Malcolm “Colm” MacRobert is ordered by his chief to travel through time and return with a woman. Not just any woman, the daughter of Laird and Lady Grant. There’s one problem, though. Everyone knows the Grants never had a daughter. Who is he bringing back? And why is she so important that his laird using the village witch to send Colm over 200 years into the future?
Word Count: 22,972
Genre: Paranormal/Time Travel Romance
Available formats: : PDF, RTF, Epub, HTML, Mobipocket (.prc)
© Cover Art by Jenny Dixon , December 2012
New Concepts Publishing
Lake Park, GA 31636
This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author's imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.
The hag was pulling his strings, and Malcolm MacRobert hated having someone else's will forced upon him. However, his laird needed him, and that was enough. Malcolm had heard of their ally the MacRae laird taking a woman of mesmerizing beauty from another time, and anything a MacRae could do, a MacRobert could do as well. Steeling himself and throwing his shoulders back, Colm braced himself for what they were about to do. Before he could so much as take a step, a heavy hand landed on his forearm.
“Are ye sure?”
His best friend and son of the laird, Caelen was staring intently at him. “Ye doona have to do this.”
“Aye, Caelen. I do. And ye ken it as well as I.”
Caelen blew out a breath, and closed his silver eyes. “Aye, that I do.” Opening his eyes, Caelen’s grip tightened, then left Colm’s arm. “Virutis Gloria Merces, braithair.” Honor is the reward of bravery, the MacRobert family motto. By the time Colm returned, he hoped that he had more than just honor. Everything hinged on this.
The old hag Grissall had told the laird a woman from a distant time needed to be brought into their clan, but she wouldn’t say why. The witch was never wrong in her visions, but she was a selfish old bat, and one never knew her motives. But the laird believed this was for the good of the clan, so Caelen had offered to go to this far away time. As future laird, he felt it his duty. But she’d had words for the son of the laird as well. His destiny was not yet come. And then her hazy gaze had landed on Malcolm. Straightening from his position Malcolm had stalked over to the old woman and glared down at her from his impressive height. He was taller even than the Caelen, who stood a handful over six feet.
“Why are you lookin’ at me, old woman?” Malcolm had all but growled at her.
“You who will no’ be laird. You who will no’ find a wife here. You who will no’ find happiness or peace here…”
“Have you a point, hag?” Malcolm looked deliberately mocking. He hated this old witch. Witch, he almost smiled as even her name, Grissall, meant witch. She was self-serving to the end, and he didn’t believe for one moment that she was concocting this plan for his future happiness.
Grissall cackled at him. “Aye, I’ve a point, lad. Your destiny lies in the future. And your destiny is my destiny.”
“Stop speaking in riddles. How can we share the same destiny? ‘Tis no’ possible.” Colm was glaring at his laird Iain MacRobert. “She’s trying to twist fate to her own will. And I’ll no’ be a part of this.”
Before he could storm out, his laird, who until now had been quiet, stood and said “You’d deny your laird? The man who reared ye as kin?”
That froze Colm in his tracks. Damn. The man had taken him in when his family had been killed during a friendly neighboring reive. Which had turned out to be less neighborly and more of a slaughter. So to show his deference, and his appreciation, Colm had taken the clan name MacRobert, even though he’d been born a Donnachaidh.
“Laird, ye ken I’d deny ye nothing.”
“Good, then it’s settled. You’re to go and retrieve this lass from her time, and bring her to ours. If all follows as planned, she’ll be yours to keep.”
That shocked Colm even more. His mouth gaped for but a moment, before he ground out, “I’m to wed?”
“Is that a problem, laddie?” When the MacRobert’s voice grew soft, Colm knew he was at his most deadly, and not to trifle with the man.
"Aye then. You've no reason to be sour. You've a grand adventure ahead of ye lad. You have my trust, Colm, and I ken you’ll make me proud.” He patted his still flat stomach. “Now, let us eat! We’ve a feast to prepare. If all goes well, we’ll have a wedding to attend.”
Pushing the memory away, Colm steadied his breathing and stepped forward into the cave. The old woman was waiting for him. He could feel her in there. Caelen followed, but Colm stopped him with a hand to the chest. Being a couple inches taller than Caelen helped at times like this.
“Nay, Caelen. I do this alone.”
Caelen looked as if he would argue, but instead dipped his head in acknowledgement. Colm nodded and strode into the cave. He refused to look back.