Page 34 of The Finest Scottish Fate

“Not necessarily your clan, but the Highlands of Scotland in the fourteenth century. From what little I remember, this place is a minefield of dangers for the next several centuries.” She held a hand to her throat as if afraid someone was about to cut it. “I can’t survive here on my own. I can’t afford to outlive you.”

Her words chilled him to the bone. Not just her rejection of him, his clan, and country, but the way she spoke as if she knew what was to happen in the years to come. “Who are ye, Evie Waterton? Where is this Chicago that ye fear and the Nashville that ye’ve survived?”

She sidled over to the table across the room and edged her way behind it, placing it and the chairs between them.

Drummond almost laughed. As if that paltry table and chairs could keep him from her if he so desired to pull her back into his arms. To put her at ease, he backed all the way to the door, not wishing to frighten her any more than he already had; however, he had done it. The terror in her eyes was heartbreaking. “Answer me, Evie. Remember our kiss. Our connection. I deserve yer honesty. Yer answer.”

“Morganna told me not to tell you,” she said so softly that he almost didn’t hear her. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and chewed on it, reminding him of its sweetness. “She said I shouldn’t.”

“Who is Morganna?” He widened his stance and braced himself in front of the door. Neither of them was going anywhere until the truth was laid bare between them.

“Uhm…a friend.”

“A friend.” He studied her, noting the rosiness high on her cheeks and the brightness of her eyes. She was upset, but he didn’t think she was lying. At least, not yet. “And when did ye last see this Morganna of yers?”

“Before you found me.”

That was a lie. He smelled the stench of it rolling off the words. “The truth, if ye please. Ye’re a verra poor liar.”

“Yeah, well, you’re not the first person to tell me that.” She perched on the windowsill behind the table, turning to frown at the small, lead-set glass panes that had been an extravagant gift from Robert the Bruce. “How do you see through these? Everything is distorted and blurry.”

“Ye push open the window and look.” He didn’t attempt to hide his irritation at her insulting the gift he’d received from the king.

Apparently she heard it in his voice, and bowed her head. “Sorry. That was rude of me. They’re very nice.”

“When did ye last see yer Morganna? This person who warned ye that ye’d be better served by telling me lies.” He didn’t appreciate such meddling and refused to tolerate it.

With a huffing snort, she threw up her hands, then let them fall into her lap. “I might as well tell you everything. I’m damned if I do, and damned if I don’t.” She rubbed her forehead as if her head were hurting again. “Can I just ask one thing before I start?”

“What?”

“When you have me put to death, will you please pick a way that’s as fast and painless as possible?”

He stared at her, unable to believe she’d think him capable of such a horrendous act. Especially not when, even though she frustrated him so much he wanted to roar, he yearned to sweep her into his bedchamber and keep her there until she listened to reason and made sense, until she realized what they could be together. “I dinna make it a habit of killing defenseless women.”

“Yeah, well, you may not think me so defenseless when you find out who my friends are.”

Even though she hadn’t said it as a threat, another chill swept across him. “The English?”

“Worse than that.” She drew up her shoulders as if wishing she could curl into herself and disappear. “The Fae.” Then her worried look switched to one of befuddlement. “Well, some of them are Fae. There is a troll, too. And a dragon, and a kelpie, and something called a wulver, but I’m not really sure what that is. I didn’t get to meet Jarrah in person. But I met the others, and sort of noticed something odd about them. Then Morganna confirmed it, so I wouldn’t think I was losing my mind.”

By all that was darkness or light, she was mad as could be. His heart broke for her.

“I am not crazy.” She shook a finger at him. “Think about it. You know where you found me.”

He couldn’t deny that truth. The sidhe hill was her irrefutable witness. “Tell me yer truth, Evie. I would hear all of it.” He resettled his stance once more and braced himself for whatever she was about to say.

“Nashville and Chicago are in the United States of America, which is on a continent across the ocean. West of here. But the United States doesn’t exist yet. It won’t exist until 1776. It was founded two hundred and eighteen years before I was born. Before I traveled to Scotland for a vacation, I lived in Nashville and worked as a dispatcher for a logistics company. Where I’m from, it’s currently the year 2026.” She wet her lips and jutted her chin higher. “I traveled back in time from the twenty-first century. Not on purpose, and not knowingly. Morganna and Callum, a pair of cursed Fae—they’re cursed because they aren’t supposed to love each other—sent me back here to meet my fated mate.” She pointed at him. “That would be you.” She tucked her chin in a cringing shrug. “Sorry.”

He wished he could call her a liar, but he clearly saw the truth of everything she said reflected in her eyes. All he’d hoped for the two of them sank to the pit of his stomach and roiled like a poorly cooked meal. “How can any of that be true?”

“I asked the same thing. Trust me. It takes some getting used to.” Another heavy sigh left her. “But it is the truth. When the woman you know as Mistress Martha gets back here, you can ask her yourself. See, Mistress Martha is really Morganna in one of her glamours.” She rubbed her forehead again while frowning. “I’m not really clear on how that part works. She hasn’t explained it.” Then she offered him a sympathetic smile. “Now do you understand why I wanted you to take me back to the sidhe hill?”

“But we—” He thumped his fist to his breaking heart. “Do ye not feel it too, lass? Tell me ye feel the connection between us.”

Sadness rolled off her in waves. “Yes. I feel it too. I could never deny that we’re fated mates. But now you know why I don’t belong here and can’t possibly stay. I’ll never survive. If someone doesn’t burn me at the stake for being a witch, then something that never would’ve endangered me in my time will surely catch up with me here.” She shook her head. “Or even worse, I’ll outlive you and suffer who knows what fate.” Her expression turned pleading. “Did it ever occur to you that my very presence here endangers you, too? I don’t want anything to happen to you because of me. You can’t tell me that what I’m saying doesn’t make any difference.”

He had no words for the pain about to rend him in two. Nay. He did have a word for it: unacceptable. “We canna spend our lives living in fear.” He charged across the room, pulled her out from behind the table, and caught her up in his arms. Burying his fingers in the thickness of her braid, he tilted her head back and forced her to look him in the eyes. “Ye canna deny what exists between us, and all that it could become. Ye belong here, lass. With me.” He kissed her again, the connection between them raging even stronger than before. It pounded through him with an otherworldly power, and he knew she felt it too.