Page 75 of Beyond Dreams

Nothing happened. Holly was still here. Having braced herself—for impact, so to speak—Holly unclenched her fists and opened her mouth. She glanced right to where Cora, Gabby, Kayla, and their husbands waited. Everyone stared, but not at her.

Following the shocked gazes of every other person in the room, Holly turned to where Graeme had stood next to her...

But did no more.

She whipped head around to Sidheag, her mouth wide and round.

“Oops,” said the witch, without an ounce of remorse just before she crumpled to the ground.

“Oh...bother,” snarled Samara and she, too, simply vanished as Graeme had, was there and then gone, her golden shimmer the last thing to leave.

No one said a word. They stared, collectively aghast, at the fallen figure of Sidheag for a long, long time.

***

He was dazed and confusedbut knew the very instant he opened his eyes that something was not right.

In a split second, it came back to him, everything—the improbable witches, the whole profanity of journeying through time, Holly’s tears, him pleading with her to wait, Sidheag lifting her hand to move Holly through time....

At the last moment, as she’d lifted her hand, the witch’s gaze had transferred to Graeme.

She’d done it apurpose.

“I’ll kill her,” he vowed as he sat up. “I’ll murder that witch with my own hands.”

He wasn’t sure what he expected to see as he took in his surroundings, but this wasn’t it.

While he hadn’t expected to still be in Newburn’s hall, he also hadn’t expected to still be so close to home. He recognized the peaks of the Five Sisters straight ahead, though a wee distance separated him from them. Mayhap the witch hadn’t moved him through time but across the region. He sat upon pine straw covered earth, inside what looked to be a destroyed keep, someone’s ancient broch whose western wall had been decimated. This bit of the broch’s ancient interior was sunken, dug into the earth, half a dozen feet beneath true ground level.

He breathed easier now. He was still in the right time, he decided, just not the right place. But some time had passed, he reasoned, noting the sun’s position in the sky. Mayhap several hours, but he couldn’t be sure.

“Jesu, but how’d she do it?” Sidheag had sent him leagues away from Newburn, Lucas Thain’s keep. Perhaps she’d not been strong enough to do any more to him.

Was Holly still there? God’s bone! Holly!

He tried to stand, only to have his legs refuse his command. He tumbled over onto his elbows and knees.

“Holly?” He called out, stunned by his inexplicable weakness. “Where are you, lass? Holly!” He roared, as much as his scratchy voice would allow. His throat was inexplicably dry, felt as if it were coated in sand. As much as he hadn’t wanted Holly to go, he feared even more having abandoned her. While he trusted Lucas, Michael, and Aedan, they had their own lasses to look after. Without Duncan knowing all the tragedy of this day, it was up to Graeme to protect her in his cousin’s stead.

Putting two fists onto the ground, Graeme tried again to stand. The process was slow, his brain simply not working in conjunction with his limbs. All that should have been simple, that should have come naturally, did not. He was forced to conceive and imagine every movement.Lift knee. Place heel on ground. Raise head and neck. Straighten back.

He would swear more than five minutes had passed since he first attempted to stand.

“Sir?”

Graeme spun around, striking out his arms when a burst of fogginess assailed him. Bluidy hell, but he felt as if he’d imbibed too freely on the poor man’s wine, so ill was his gut and fuzzy was his head.

“Sir?”

He spun on his heel at the small and wary voice, nearly losing his balance.

“Cease!” He ordered of the darting figure. “Show yourself,” he ground out, reaching for his sword. He wasn’t spinning, didn’t think he was moving at all presently, but the figure with the hesitant voice waved and fluttered before him, the picture unclear. “Go on with you!” He lifted his sword and aimed it in the general direction of the only thing was not green or brown or gray, but bright pink.

“Sir, are you all right? Should I call—an ambulance? Is it nine-one-one here like in the States?”

Never in his life had he felt so weak, so damn vulnerable. He couldn’t focus his eyes, couldn’t put a face to the cautious voice. And then he could stand no more. His knees didn’t buckle but he fell straight backward, landing hard on his arse. Without intention, without control of his own body, he flopped onto his back.

“Oh, crap—are you okay?” Asked with great urgency and what sounded like genuine concern. And then, “Holy shit—why...why are you carrying a sword?”

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