Page 27 of The Finest Scottish Fate

“You be a liar.” Evie clambered out of the bed and bore down on the woman she’d sworn to punch in the nose if she ever saw her again. “You want to talk me through this? Explain what the crap happened? What you and that man of yours did to send me to the fourteenth century? If we’re really here. Or did you drug me or something? Am I brain-damaged now? Is that why my head keeps feeling as though it’s about to explode?”

Morganna backed against the wall, hitting it with a hard thump, then lifted both hands in surrender. “’Tis time-travel sickness. Callum says some mortals suffer from spatial and temporal dislocation when they cross the centuries. I dinna ken about all that. All I know is some are more sensitive to it than others.” Still cringing, she nodded. “We should have known ye would be one of the sensitive ones. What with the way ye saw through our glamours.”

Itching to pop the woman in the nose, Evie barely held herself back. “The way I see through your what?”

“Our glamours.” Morganna pulled in a deep breath, then lifted her chin as if preparing to take whatever punishment Evie decided to dish out. “Ye saw Forestor’s true form. And Mercury’s. Among the magical folk living at Craig Durness, only Callum and I allow ourselves to be seen in our true forms.” She twitched a half-hearted shrug and touched her ears. “Well…exceptin’ for our ears. Being Fae, we canna let the mortals see our natural ears.”

Evie let her fisted hand drop to her side. This had to be a drug-induced coma. Had she been in a bad car wreck or something? “What is real? Right now. Right here.” She pointed at the floor, then at Morganna. “Where the hell am I? What year is it? And how the hell did I get here—and why?”

Chapter Seven

Murdoch stepped in front of Drummond to stop him just as he entered the great hall. “I heard that Old Glengarten and the rest of the council sent word to Clan Heberdy inquiring about the chief’s daughter. I thought ye should know immediately.” He gave a meaningful glance back at the stairwell. “Considering the guest ye brought home this evening.”

Drummond had too much on his mind to waste any time and energy on clan politics. “Tell Glengarten if he wishes to remain a close advisor to the chief after my father dies, he best send word to Clan Heberdy that the inquiry was sent in error.”

“Ye know he’ll not do it. Not even with the threat of not remaining an advisor. If someone pricks yer father’s finger, Glengarten bleeds for him. That one there is loyal through and through, but only to the Old MacMuirrow.”

“Then I shall have Father speak with him.” Or at least he would try. Ill-natured as a wounded beast, his father rarely cooperated anymore.

Increasing his pace, Drummond turned down the hallway toward the kitchens and the rooms where the servants met to receive their duties for the day. The household needed to understand that Mockingbird—nay…his Evie—was the most important guest they would ever serve. They would treat her with the utmost respect, or else.

“Ye are certain about this?” Murdoch asked as he struggled to keep pace with him. “About the woman?”

The doubt in his friend’s tone halted Drummond halfway down the passage. “Who told me I’d have no peace until I heeded the Fae’s message and did what they wished?”

Murdoch looked away, glancing up and down the corridor as if making certain no one eavesdropped upon them. “That was afore I witnessed what took place today.” He slowly shook his head. “The power of that storm above the hill. The way the grasses grew, then fell away to reveal the lass that had not been there before.” He locked eyes with Drummond. “Dangerous forces stirred today. Could be evil in ways we dinna ken. Has me worried about yer soul.”

“Save the worrying about my soul for the priest.”

“The woman told ye herself that she does not belong here.”

“But she does.” Drummond felt it with every fiber of his being. “She simply does not know it yet.”

Murdoch gave him an incredulous look. “Ye canna claim to love her. Not yet.”

“I dinna claim to love her, but something is here.” Drummond thumped his chest with his fist. “A connection of sorts. A drawing toward her. Like a lodestone drawn to steel.” He caught hold of his friend’s shoulder and squeezed. “I canna explain it, but when I look into her eyes, I recognize her as a woman I’ve known since the beginning of my soul’s existence.”

“Bah!” Murdoch shoved him away. “Fated mates across lives are fodder for minstrels’ songs.”

Drummond used to think the same, but now? He was not so sure. All he knew was that his precious Mockingbird, his mysterious Evie, was different. She was not just some lost female meant to be returned to wherever she’d come from. She’d been sent to him for a reason. “Do ye mean to support me in this, or not?”

Murdoch’s jaw dropped. He puffed out his chest and scraped his boots across the floor, like an angry bull about to charge. “Ye would question my loyalty?”

“I need yer loyalty now more than ever. Ye’re the only one who witnessed today. The only one who knows where the lass came from.” Drummond had trusted Murdoch with his life many times before, but this time was different. More than one life hung in the balance. “I need yer help to protect her from those who might cause her harm.”

Hands fisted on his broad hips, Murdoch growled. “I canna believe ye would question my loyalty—or our friendship. Ye wound me, Drum. Cut me to the core.”

“Forgive me, old friend. The stakes are high this time. I had to be sure.”

The man growled again and rolled his eyes. “Then ye best be speaking to yer sire with haste so he can tell Glengarten to send Clan Heberdy a few cows and wish their chief’s daughter a long life and the finding of a good husband from another clan.” Still scowling, he nodded down the hallway, back toward the stairwell. “Shall I come with ye?”

“I’ve a better idea.” Drummond pointed Murdoch toward the kitchens. “While I speak with the MacMuirrow, see that ye make every servant, from Mrs. Farris all the way down to the lowliest scullery maid, understand that Lady Evie Waterton is the most important guest they will ever serve. If they value their places here at Dubh Tower, they will serve her well, ye ken?”

Murdoch nodded. “I’ll put the fear into them.”

“Good man.” Drummond headed back down the hallway without a second thought. Murdoch would soon have the staff well in line and fully understanding the importance of Lady Evie’s happiness.

Now, Drummond simply needed to convince his stubborn father that Clan Heberdy would not be needed. He hoped Angus MacMuirrow was in a receptive mood and inclined to agree. Ever since the title of the first Earl of Blackmorrow had been bestowed on the son rather than the father, old MacMuirrow had become even more unreasonable than usual. While Drummond understood that the Bruce’s passing over of his father had stung, his ill-natured sire should not have been surprised. Chief Angus MacMuirrow and Robert the Bruce had never been on good terms. Chief MacMuirrow was not on good terms with anyone. It was only Drummond’s political maneuvering and eventual friendship with the king that had saved Clan MacMuirrow from the Bruce’s wrath.