Page 11 of Seductive Scot
“The only king that died in the year 1286 was Scotland’s king, King Alexander.”
“Okay. Go on,” Ian said.
Reikart thought about what to tell him. What was really necessary? “She apparently delivered a note to the king that she thought his wife, Queen Yolande, had allegedly written to him.”
“What are you saying?” Ian bit out, his impatient nature showing. “Are you saying the queen didn’t write the note?”
“I have no damn idea, but according to the history books, King Alexander died when he ignored his advisors and traveled in bad weather to return to Queen Yolande. History says his death was accidental, that he fell off a cliff during the storm that night.” He thought about what his mom had written, how terrified she was that she’d helped kill the king and that they’d lock her in the dungeon and never let her out. That or simply hang her.
Ian was staring at him expectantly. Reikart cleared his throat. “I think history doesn’t know what really happened. I think…” He swallowed, his gut clenching. “I think the king of Scotland was murdered, and Mom saw who did it.”
“Jesus,” Ian muttered and took his shot of tequila.
“Yeah, Jesus,” Reikart concurred. “I think that whoever murdered the king managed to cover it up, but that Mom must have seen something, must have been a member of the party traveling with the king from Edinburgh to Kinghorn. I don’t know for sure, but one thing is for certain: Mom said she was scared, and that must be why she went to her sister, Grace.”
“Aunt Grace,” Ian corrected in a snarky tone that implied he still found it all hard to believe. Reikart did, too, though he believed it now.
“Aunt Grace,” Reikart said, eyeing Ian, who grinned, “told Mom not to worry. That she’d send her home.”
“Mom should have been a whole hell of a lot more worried,” Ian said, smirking.
That was one thing the two of them had long shared: their caustic humor when facing stress. Reikart knew where his came from, but he wasn’t quite sure about Ian’s, and he was suddenly regretful that he’d been persona non grata for the last four years. He was a shitty elder brother.
“Bet she never guessed her sister would be sending her to the future,” Ian added.
“No,” Reikart agreed, focusing on what he needed to do, not all the things he regretted. That list was damn long, and they’d be dead by the time he was done going through it if he started. “I’m sure she didn’t. Listen, Ian…” He clasped a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “After talking to Axtell and comparing the chant Rhys wrote down to the one mom said and the one in the ancient spell book, I’m pretty certain she ended up in our time because she either said one word in the chant wrong or her sister did. You have to say the chant exactly the way Rhys wrote it.”
Ian glared at Reikart. “No shit. Didn’t we both already do that?” Ian bit out. He shoved Reikart’s hand off his shoulder and stalked to the bar cart.
“Yeah.” Reikart stared at his brother’s back as Ian poured himself another shot, “but also roll theghon the last word.” When Ian didn’t immediately respond, Reikart closed the distance between them, grabbed Ian by the arm, and turned him around. His brother’s eyes narrowed, but Reikart ignored the simmering anger he saw there. This was too important. “Did you hear what I said? I told you—”
“I’ve got it,Dad,” Ian growled. “Now get your hand off me unless you want to fight.”
The last thing Reikart wanted was for them to get into one of their legendary brawls right before going through time. Plus, he knew Ian was just keyed up and worried. Reikart immediately released him. “There are a few other things you should know before we try the chant again.”
“Shoot,” Ian replied, arching his eyebrows.
“It stands to reason that Mom is in trouble.” Ian nodded, so Reikart continued. “Scotland is on the verge of war with England. It will be bloody and long.”
Ian shook his head. “I never did understand why you and Rhys liked history so much, but I guess it’s coming in handy now.”
“Yeah,” Reikart concurred. “The medieval period was brutal. People killed each other all the time. Be alert. And if we don’t go through together, make your way to Mom’s home at Castle Hightower. Do you remember her brothers’ names?”
Ian quirked his mouth, his irritation obvious. “Didn’t read the notes, re-mem-ber?”
Reikart ignored the baiting tone. Ian was clearly itching to fight. “Her dad is Laird MacKinnish. Her brothers are Alastair, Ross, Dermot, and Colban. Hopefully, someone will know them, and we can find our way there relatively easily if we don’t end up there from the start.” Reikart took his phone out of his pocket. I’m going to record us. If one of us doesn’t make it, whoever is left can watch the recording for clues.”
Ian nodded, and after Reikart set the phone up to record, he looked to Ian. “Ready?”
“Hell no. I’m starving.” Only his brother could be hungry at a time like that. “Let’s eat first.”
With a quick nod, they headed out the French doors, down the long hall, and into the gleaming expansive kitchen. Memories of their mom were really strong here, and Reikart chuckled remembering how she’d tried to get them all to try haggis one night, but only Dad had been willing to eat a dish made from the liver, heart, and lungs of a sheep. There had been other things like that which made so much more sense now that he knew the truth, like her strange way of cussing with phrases likeGod’s teethandChrist’s blood. She never could bring herself to say the f-word, as she’d called it. And then there had been her love of mead. She’d bought a kit online and made her own.
After Reikart and Ian cooked some food and did the dishes, they silently made their way back to the study. Reikart walked to his dad’s desk to retrieve the cross. He glanced down at it. It had a star and an anchor set in the middle with a round, raised ball set on each end of the cross. Mom had taken it through time with her, so Reikart assumed they’d take it through with them today if they both went.
He picked up the heavy cross, the metal frigid to the touch as it had been every time his fingers had come in contact with it. The sensation of wind blowing began immediately.
Ian eyed him warily. “Still cold?” his brother asked.
