On the Scots side, a terrific roar went up and the men in the center started sprinting forward in a charge. To the left, some men were not moving and others appeared unsure what to do. To the right, those soldiers had joined the charge only to collide with the center which had suddenly veered into them. Chaos quickly ensued, men milling about as orders from different directions were shouted.
Charlotte watched in horror as the English took advantage and moved forward, their guns and horses quickly encircling and overpowering the Scots whose charge had been bungled.
History was playing itself out in front of her just as it had been written.
She searched the field for Niall and finally spotted the tartans of the Frasers off to the right. She caught sight of the white scarf she’d given him. He was still on his feet and still fighting, even though the ground around him was littered with the wounded. And then his head snapped back as he clutched his shoulder and fell.
Charlotte tried to race forward, but her feet felt leaden and she couldn’t move, as much as she willed herself to. She was living the nightmare that had haunted her. She couldn’t run. Only this wasreal. She had to get to Niall.
Then, suddenly, there was quiet. No shouts, no cries of dying men, no trampling of horses’ hooves nor clashing of swords. Time was standing still.
Her limbs loosened and she found herself moving amongst soldiers who stood still as statues. Reaching Niall, she knelt beside him. The white scarf was covered in blood. She quickly felt for a pulse and found none. Niall was…gone? He couldn’t be! Not after—
“Doona fash.”
Charlotte stilled. Where had those words come from? Nothing was moving and all was quiet save for that voice. Slowly, she looked up.
The auburn-haired woman she’d seen by the river—Bridgid—stood beside her. Charlotte blinked. “What…what are you doing here?” She shook her head. “Never mind. Can you help me?”
“Aye. I brought ye here. Now ye will return.” The woman lifted both arms high. “Gum faigh thu sith, Taibhse à Culloden.”
“What…what does that mean?”
Bridgid smiled. “May ye find peace, Ghost of Culloden.”
And then, white mist swirled around her.
Epilogue
Texas, present day
Charlotte knew the exact moment Niall gained consciousness, even though he didn’t stir, lying beside her in her bed. She propped herself up on one elbow and waited.
Slowly, Niall’s eyes opened. His head didn’t move as he looked around. Luckily, her room was simply furnished with an oak four-poster bed, side tables, and dresser with mirror. Her walls were a muted beige, the bedspread and curtains hunter green. It wasn’t all that much different from Castle Dounie.
His gaze found hers. “Is this heaven, then?”
“Not quite.” She smiled. “You’re in the twenty-first century.”
“How did that happen? I remember being shot and then…nothing.” He frowned. “I didn’t die?”
“That’s up for debate. When I found you, there was a lot of blood, and I didn’t feel a pulse.” She took a deep breath. “Are you ready for me to tell you what happened?”
“As much as I’ll ever be.” He propped himself up against the headboard, looked around the room once more and took a deep breath himself. “Tell me.”
“I guess I really need to begin somewhat before the battle. Do you remember when you brought me to Inverness and left me for an hour to talk to Mr. Gordon?” When he nodded, she continued. “Well, I was sitting on the bench, contemplating how I’d gotten to your world, when a young lady joined me—”
“I saw her.” Niall looked uncomfortable suddenly. “We were watching to see if ye’d meet with a messenger.”
Charlotte drew her brows together, then cleared her expression. “Ah. You still thought I was a spy at that point.”
“Aye. ’Tis sorry I am.”
She waved her hand in dismissal. “Not important now. The woman is, though. She told me her name was Bridgid.’
He looked confused. “Why is that important?”
Charlotte studied him before answering. “Because she was the one who brought me to you and sent us back here.”
