Page 19 of Edge of Yesterday

“By God, a wolf.” The reenactor beside Cailean peered into the trees. “Did they borrow the beast from a zoo?”

Another knight shook his head. “Too dangerous with so many tourists about.”

Cailean whispered, “It must be a recording.” Wolves had disappeared from Scotland in the sixteen hundreds, but tonight they revisited the Highlands of thirteen hundred and ninety-five. “Heatheredge is renowned for authenticity,” he added.

The wolf howled again and a thrill lashed through Cailean. He hadn’t truly understood the lengths to which the inhabitants of modern day Heatheredge would go in order to reenact Valdar’s heartbreak. As the animal’s lonely cry faded, he rubbed his nape where the fine hairs had risen.

A woman’s wail of pain snapped Cailean’s attention to the cottage. Valdar grabbed the door latch. When it didn’t open, he threw his shoulder against the door. Still, it didn’t budge. He flattened his palms against the wood and lowered his head as if in concentration. Another cry from the woman inside the cabin split the eerie silence. The door sprang open an inch as if freed of a spring. Valdar shoved the door open wider and faint light spilled onto the dirt lane.

A soft click sounded and the façade of the cottage slid open like an accordion door and disappeared into a recess on the cottage’s right side. A collective murmur rippled through the crowd when the inside of the modest room came into view. A low fire in the hearth illuminated a corner bed where a peasant woman sat on the mattress beside a woman whose distended belly indicated she approached time to deliver a child. The girth of her middle appeared too large for her slight frame. The birthing sheet that had covered her hips had slipped from her long, gleaming thighs. She writhed, her head thrashing from side to side.

Valdar entered.

The peasant woman’s head snapped in his direction. “Who are ye?”

He didn’t answer, but strode to the bed. The woman leapt to her feet and retreated until her back met the wall.

Valdar sat on the bed, threw back his hood, and took Elizabeth’s hand in his. “Lady Elizabeth,” he murmured.

She stilled and turned her head toward him. A long moment passed before she said, “Valdar?”

“Aye, my lady. It is I.” He pressed her fingers to his lips.

Cailean’s throat went dry. He could almost feel her cold hand in his. He resisted the urge to hurry to the cottage...to her. When she lifted a hand and touched Valdar’s cheek, Cailean’s hand drifted to his own face. Valdar dipped his head closer to the delicate fingers. Her hand dropped back to the mattress and a chill swept through Cailean.

“But how are you here?” she said. “I thought all my loved ones perished when—” Her voice caught. “My father, is he…?”

Pain lashed through Cailean at the anguish on her face.

Valdar nodded. “Dead, my lady.”

“My husband?” This time, her voice rang stronger in the room.

Valdar straightened. “Your husband died like the fiend he was.”

“It was not his clan that attacked.” Her vehemence hit like a slap to Cailean’s face. “My husband was innocent.”

Cailean frowned. Not the Mackay clan that attacked the Ross bridal party? How had Heatheredge made such a huge historical blunder?

Valdar shook his head. “Your groom did not want the marriage. He desired another woman. He planned to give you to his men and say that you had been kidnapped then killed.”

“How can you know this?” she demanded.

“Those who survived the slaughter in Heatheredge spoke of it,” Valdar said. “They say his evil plans brought the wrath of God down upon them and God sent your father as an avenging angel.”

“My father, an avenging angel?” Her bitter laugh made Cailean yearn to take her into his arms and show her that no gentlewoman should experience such pain. “Nae,” she said in a bitter voice. “My father is Satan himself.”

“Satan is the man who did this to you.” Valdar placed a hand on her belly.

The peasant woman took a step toward him. “Do no’ touch her.”

“Quiet,” he hissed, and she shrank back.

Elizabeth cried out again and kicked at the covers.

Valdar stood. “Help her.”

The peasant woman hesitated.