Page 54 of Highlander Unraveled
“Ye bitch!” Mrs. MacDonald shouted from the floor where she sat, hugging her foot to her chest.
“How can I help?” I asked Emma.
“Wait here. Watch her.”
I did as she asked while Emma ran back upstairs, returning with a small satchel and my weapons. I sheathed my sword and returned my sgian dubh to my sock, watching her hurry toward the kitchen. Once back, I noted she’d shoved the gun into her bag, along with the black box. She then reached down and rummaged through Mrs. MacDonald’s clothes all while Mrs. MacDonald attempted to swat her away. Emma pulled out several items, and seeming satisfied, shoved them into the bag, too.
“Come on. We need to go now, before someone comes to see what happened.” She opened the door and I checked the surroundings.
“All clear,” I said.
“This way.” Emma leaned against me for a half second, though I could tell she wanted to do so longer.
She pointed to a large steel box that sat on the edge of the road, with wheels made of an odd material.
“A car,” I mused, remembering what she’d told me about vehicles.
“Yes. Get in.” She rushed around to the other side and opened the side of it, her eyes meeting mine. “Here.”
I hurried to do her bidding, managing to fold myself up enough once seated on the cushioned chair. Lord, but it was uncomfortable for a man my size.
Emma came around the other side, sat down, and plugged in the key and the whole thing rumbled to life.
“Remember what I said about cars?” she asked. “You may want to lay back and close your eyes. You’re likely to get sick.”
“I’m certain I’ve experienced things far more disturbing then this,” I assured her with a wink.
She smiled, and the vehicle lurched forward.
I grabbed on for dear life, swallowing down the bile rising up my throat, because she didn’t slow down, if anything, my sweet wife sped up.
15
Moira
Iwalked the length of the great hall at Gealach with the young heir, Saor, cradled in my arms. A tuft of fiery-red hair on his otherwise bald scalp. He gurgled and squirmed, cheeks fat and rosy, eyes as blue as the sky, looking genuinely content one moment and quite irritated with me the next.
I smiled and cooed at him, and for one so young, he had a surprisingly genuine smile. Not gas or dreams, but the grin of a babe well cared for and loved.
It’d been a week since Logan had vanished from the glen, though we all knew just where he’d gone. Or at least, wehopedwe knew where he was. Nothing was ever a certainty. And I prayed daily that he knewwhohe was. When Shona and Ewan had both come to the 1500’s neither of them knew who they were in their past life. It took Shona five years before she remembered, and Ewan took nearly twenty years to recall his past. If Logan forgot who he was, it would be a disaster for everyone, even if he only lost his memory for a few short weeks.
He was our leader. The guardian of our country. The keeper of crown secrets. The protector of many. I shuddered to think what would happen should he forget.
“How is the bairn?” Rory asked.
I looked up at him, watching him approach, kilt swaying, and muscular legs marching toward me.
“He is very happy,” I said, wondering if at that moment a bairn of my own was growing inside me.
Rory tickled Saor’s chin. “He looks it.”
Though Rory had a son of his own already, I knew he couldn’t wait to have a child who he could raise, who he could love from birth—not to mention, that this child wouldn’t want to murder him.
“Rory,” Ewan said, striding into the hall, his brow furrowed, hand on his sword hilt as though he expected trouble at any moment.
My belly flopped. Ewan often looked disturbed, and I couldn’t blame him, but he looked even more agitated than usual.
“What is it?” Rory asked, his tone conveying he felt the same as I.
