Chapter 18

I t took a moment for Emeric's words to sink in. Anna stared at him, uncomprehending. She turned to study the family scene below, the laughing couple and their children splashing through the puddles with not a care in the world. Then she looked back at Emeric's tight, angry expression.

"I...I don't understand. Your father died. He drowned."

Emeric gave a sour laugh, tinged with bitterness. "Aye, that's what everyone thinks. That's what he wanted them to think. But as ye can see, he's very much alive."

He turned to her and his expression was ravaged. "The day he ‘drowned' I went looking for him. It was unusual for him to go sailing alone. I normally went with him. It was one of the things we did together on the odd occasions he was home, on leave from serving in the king's elite. But this day he left without me, before I was even out of bed. So I went to the loch to find him. And find him I did."

He stared down at the scene below, rain dripping unheeded down his face. "I found him punching holes into his own boat and pushing it out into the loch. When I stepped out to ask him what he was doing, he looked shocked to be caught—shocked and guilty. Then he got angry and ordered me home. I pretended to go but then doubled back and followed him. He didnae go sailing. He picked up a pack that he'd hidden in the brush and set out towards MacDonald lands. I followed him all the way here, keeping out of sight. At the time I didnae know why I did that. After all, he was my da, wasnae he? Why would I need to keep out of sight? But I think even then I knew something was very, very wrong."

He ran a hand across his face, staring at nothing, as though memories played before his eyes. "And when I got here, I saw him go down to that mill and be greeted at the door by a blonde woman with a bairn in her arms and another on the way." He turned haunted eyes on Anna. "He was leaving us. He was turning his back on us all and leaving us for his other family. And here he remains."

Emeric watched his father, his eyes flashing. "Everyone thinks him a hero. But the truth is that my father is a womanizer, a bigamist and a liar. All those times he was off fighting for the king's elite? He was really off with his mistress—or mistresses—for I have no idea if there are any others, or how many bastard half-siblings I have up and down the land."

Anna stared at him, appalled. She didn't know what to say. So she said nothing. She sat there in the rain-soaked grass, her skirts soaking up the rainwater and the mud, and turned to watch the family below. The children were now racing around the yard, squealing and laughing as they chased one another. The sandy-haired man—Emeric's father—was still out in the rain with them, egging them on, while the blonde-haired woman stood in the doorway of their home, shaking her head in amusement .

Emeric's gaze was locked onto his father, an intensity radiating from him that was almost palpable. His hands were clenched into fists, the knuckles white as he watched his father living this second life that none of them had known about.

What must that have been like for him? To carry this secret alone all this time whilst his family grieved for a man who had betrayed them all?

She rested a hand on his arm, a small comfort in the face of his raw pain. "Emeric, I'm so sorry," she murmured.

Now she understood. Now she understood why he had left Dun Achmore. Now she understood why going back there caused him so much pain. She understood why he pushed his family away.

After a heavy silence, Emeric turned to her. "I meant to confront him that day, ye know," he said softly. "I was going to storm in there and demand to know why he'd chosen them over us. But when I saw them all together..." He sighed, his shoulders slumping. "I realized it didnae matter. His choice was made."

He turned back to the scene below, expression hardening once more as he watched his father now hunched over with laughter as the children continued to splash water at him. "So, I left, went home, and kept his secret."

"Why?" Anna asked. "Why would you do that for him?"

"I didnae do it for him," he replied, his voice hard and bitter. "I did it for my mother, my sister, my uncle. Had the truth come out, the scandal would have ruined my clan and destroyed my mother. Imagine it, the great hero of Clan Mackintosh, thrown into the bishop's prison for bigamy. The MacDonalds or the Murrays or any of the others would have taken it as justification to destroy us. And I dinna think my mother or sister would ever have recovered from such a betrayal. Nay, better they think him dead. Better to grieve the loyal husband and doting father rather than be forever broken by the truth."

"And you've told nobody? All this time?"

He shook his head. "How could I? It was my shame to bear."

" Your shame?"

"Aye, my shame," Emeric said, his voice choked and rough. "His secret became my secret because I chose silence over truth. I've lived with the guilt and the humiliation of it every day since I discovered him here, living this other life."

Anna watched as Emeric's shoulders bowed under the weight of his burden. "Emeric," she said gently, touching his arm. "You were just a boy when you found out about your father's deception. You did what you thought was right at the time. You put the welfare of your family and your clan before your own anguish and anger. How can you berate yourself for that?"

She didn't know how he had been strong enough to withstand it. She knew she wouldn't have been.

"Because I wasnae strong enough to bear it," he said, as though reading her thoughts. "It drove me from Dun Achmore, from my family. In the end, I abandoned them too."

Anna shook her head, a tangle of emotions welling up inside her—anger, disbelief, sympathy. "That's not your fault, Emeric," she said softly. "You shouldn't have to bear this alone. You've carried this secret for far too long."

"Who else should I have burdened with it then?" Emeric asked, his voice hoarse. He stared ahead at the family playing in the yard, his face a mask of misery. "My mother? My sister? Should I have shattered their illusion of my father as a noble man?"

Anna didn't answer immediately. Her heart ached for Emeric, for the burden he'd borne all alone. That he had done it to protect his family from scandal and ruin was testament to his strength.

"No," she said slowly, "but it wasn't fair to you either. This... this is something that should have never been your burden alone to carry. Your father made selfish choices, Emeric, not you."

Emeric let out a harsh laugh but didn't respond. His eyes remained focused on his father and the other family who lived so obliviously in their joy. The rain continued to pour, soaking them in its relentless downpour, yet the laughter from the yard echoed up to them—a painful contrast to their somber atmosphere.

The woman in the doorway called the children inside, her laughter ringing out as she disappeared into the warmth of their home. Emeric's father followed, pausing at the threshold to glance back over his shoulder. It was as if he sensed Emeric's eyes on him, but he merely shrugged and stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

Emeric stared at that closed door, his face like stone. "Ye are right," he said finally, his voice heavy with resignation. "It wasnae fair. But life rarely is. "

Anna had thought his family the perfect representation of what she'd always thought a family should be. Caring. Close. Warm. And it was. It was all those things, but that didn't mean it didn't have a darker side, a more tangled side, riddled with secrets and tension.

There was no such thing as a perfect family, she realized. Just a bunch of people tied together with bonds that could harm as much as heal. A bunch of people who did the best they could for each other with what was given to them.

That thought gave her pause. Had her parents done the best they could for her? Had that transient lifestyle been the best life they could offer their daughter with the hand that life had dealt them? She'd never thought of it that way before.

There was silence, broken only by the rhythm of the rain on the leaves and distant peals of laughter from inside the house. Anna knew that she should feel anger towards Emeric's father, yet all she felt was a profound sadness for Emeric, for all of them.

She reached out and squeezed his hand. "Thank you for trusting me with this."

Her hand was dwarfed by his and she could feel the strength in him as his fingers slowly closed around hers. Warmth seeped into her from where their fingers entwined.

He let out a long, slow, breath. "It feels good," he said at last. "To finally tell someone." His eyes found hers in the gloom. "It feels good sharing this with ye, Anna."

She couldn't help but notice how their hands fit together, a lock and key. She looked down to hide the strange warmth spreading across her cheeks, focusing on the way his thumb gently stroked over her knuckles. She had never met anyone like him, anyone who made her feel the way he did: terrified and exhilarated in equal measure. She could make no sense of it.

"Emeric—" she began, but he put a finger against her lips to silence her.

And then his lips softly brushed hers.

She froze, the world suddenly reduced to the soft pressure of his lips, the warmth of his hand, the bitter chill of the rain. Then, slowly, she closed her eyes and leaned into him, surrendering to this unexpected tenderness. His lips were warm and firm and tasted oh so sweet. His other hand moved to cradle her face, fingers brushing the wet strands of hair away from her cheek.

His kiss was gentle, yet insistent, filled with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine. She felt him pull her closer, his free arm wrapping around her waist. She responded instinctively; her own arms moving up to drape around his neck. The world spun around them—rain and wind and cold—but all she could think about was Emeric and how right he felt against her.

He was the first to pull away, though he kept his forehead resting against hers. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his breath warm against her lips. "I shouldnae have—"

"Don't you dare," she stopped him. "Don't you dare apologize, Emeric. Not for this."

His eyes searched hers with an intensity that made her breath hitch. His hand left hers, only to move up and brush a damp curl from her face .

She pulled him close again, pressing a soft kiss against his lips. She felt Emeric's surprise melt away as he moved with her, matching the rhythm of her lips against his own. He wrapped his arms tighter around her, pulling her against him until there was no space between them.

Anna was no longer cold and could barely feel the rain. Heat shot through her, her veins suddenly on fire. She hadn't realized how much she'd wanted this, how much she'd wanted him , until this moment.

His hand slipped into her hair, fingers tangling gently in the wet strands. He deepened the kiss, his lips moving over hers with a passion that stole her breath. She kissed him back hungrily, clinging to him, her fingers gripping the damp fabric of his plaid, losing herself in the feel of him, in the taste of him.

Then there was a wet snort above them and a shower of freezing water cascaded right down the back of Anna's neck. She pulled back with a gasp and looked up to see the long face of Plover looking down at them, dolefully. He shook his sodden mane and a mist of water went flying in all directions, drenching them again.

Emeric gave a low laugh. "Bloody hell, ye daft beast. How did ye get free of yer tether? Had enough of the rain, eh? I canna say I blame ye, lad."

His sea-green eyes found Anna's. "We'd best get out of the weather too, lass. What say ye we find somewhere warm where we can dry off before heading back?"

"I would say that sounds wonderful," Anna replied. Although what she really wanted was the horse to go away and for Emeric to kiss her again. Yet the thought of getting warm and dry was also very appealing.

Emeric extended his hand, helping her to stand. She took it gratefully, her legs feeling more than a little unsteady.

They began their journey back to the village, the horse's hooves clopping loudly in the silence of the rain-soaked countryside. Anna leaned into Emeric, the warmth from his chest seeping through her drenched clothes, staving off the chill of the evening.

As they rode, Anna tried to process what had happened between them. Each time the horse took a step, their bodies pressed together and her heart raced—this time not because of fear or cold but because of desire. She tried to think of something to say, something cocky, something flippant, but the confident, flirtatious persona that had served to guard her heart so well in the past seemed to have deserted her, and all she could do was sit in the silence, wondering what Emeric was thinking. Was he struggling as much as she was?

The smell of rain-soaked grass filled her nostrils along with the less pleasant, yet somewhat comforting scent of wet horse. She focused on that. Anything to distract her from the unsettling thoughts of the man sitting behind her.

They left Emeric's father's house behind and soon reached the village. The people who had been outdoors when they'd rode through were nowhere in sight, having sensibly retreated indoors out of the rain. Emeric did not take the road that led towards Dun Achmore but instead turned them downhill towards the river and to a long, low building built on stilts right at the water's edge. Several boats were tied up at piers jutting out into the river, tiny row-boats to larger barge-like vessels that bulged with cargo lashed down under tarpaulins made of sacking.

"This is the local waystation," Emeric said by way of explanation. "An inn of sorts. It serves as a stopping place for trading vessels along the river. It isnae much but it should be warm and dry."

There was a stable behind it on the riverbank and they rode in and dismounted, handing over Plover to a stable hand. Inside the inn, it was warm and surprisingly cozy. The air was filled with the scent of wood smoke and ale, mingling with the faint trace of damp wool from sodden clothes drying by the fire. Laughter rang out from a small group huddled around a table, their conversation filled with good-natured ribbing and the clinking of tankards. The innkeeper, a portly man with a red face, greeted them with a gruff nod.

Emeric ordered them each a bowl of stew and two mugs of ale. They found a quiet table near the fire and sat down. Anna shivered as she shrugged off her wet cloak, relishing the heat that soaked into her chilled bones.

The silence between them felt different now. Before, it had been charged with tension and uncertainty; now it held something softer, more intimate. Anna watched as Emeric picked up his spoon and carefully blew on the hot stew before taking a bite.

"Good?" she asked.

"Aye, not bad," Emeric replied, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips.

Anna took a spoonful of her own stew, savoring the rich, hearty flavor. As she ate, she kept stealing glances at Emeric, her thoughts awash with memories of their kiss. The taste of him still lingered on her lips, and each time their eyes locked, heat flushed over her cheeks.

After they finished eating, Emeric leaned back in his chair, stretching his long legs under the table. He ran his fingers through his damp hair and sighed. In that moment of silence, Anna felt an overwhelming urge to reach out and touch him. She yearned for another taste of his lips, another moment of melting into him.

The silence between them was broken by the innkeeper bringing over two more mugs of ale. Anna stared into hers, swilling it around and around. She replayed the events of the day over in her head. It had been quite the day. So much had happened that she wasn't sure how to begin working through it all. The revelation about Emeric's father. The kiss...

She took a sip of ale. It was warm and stale-tasting but she did her best not to make a face as she swallowed.

Emeric snorted a laugh. "Not an ale drinker, eh?"

"No. I don't think I'd had a pint of beer in my life before I came here. Give me some fizzy wine or a gin and tonic any day of the week."

"Gin and tonic? Canna say I've ever heard of that."

"You haven't? Oh, that's right. I don't think gin has been invented yet has it? Well, if you ever visit me in the twenty-first century I'll take you to a bar I know in Glasgow. It has gin in about a hundred different flavors."

"When I visit ye? Is that an invitation, lass?"

The look in his eyes sent heat spiraling right through her core. "If you like."

"Aye. I like. "

Emeric was staring at her and Anna found she couldn't look away. That heat in her core intensified and she felt her heart thumping against her ribs. She cleared her throat and took another sip of her ale, desperately trying to get a grip on her racing thoughts.

"So...um..." she stammered. "After your father left, that's when you joined the Order of the Osprey?"

As soon as she said it, she wished she hadn't. The heat left his gaze, to be replaced by weariness, as though she'd dumped a jug of cold water over his head.

"Aye," he said, his voice low. "That's when I left to join the Order of the Osprey. I had sworn to myself that I wouldnae reveal my father's treachery, that I would keep his secret in order to protect my family, but if I stayed in Dun Achmore, I knew eventually I would crack. They all thought him lost on the loch, drowned when his boat sank. Their grief was awful to watch, made worse because I knew I could have ended it if I had chosen to." He glanced out the window at the pouring rain. "But that wasnae the worst of it. With my father gone, all their expectations fell on me. I was to be my uncle's heir, to take over the lairdship one day. They all said I'd make a fine job of it, that I was my father's son and that I'd carry on his legacy of service to the clan."

His eyes found Anna's, clouded with hurt and anger. "That was the last straw. I had fostered with the Sutherlands when I was a lad and I knew all about the Order of the Osprey. So, much to my family's chagrin, I left Dun Achmore when I was sixteen years old. I have returned only sporadically in the years since. "

Anna opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again. She realized there was nothing to say, no words of comfort that would ease the raw pain in Emeric's eyes. He was a man caught between two worlds—the world of his clan, with its expectations and preconceived notions, and the Order of the Osprey, where he found purpose but no less conflict.

"Did you ever regret it?" she asked softly. "Leaving Dun Achmore?"

His gaze remained steady on her as he considered her question. "At times," he finally admitted. "I miss the land, the people. But I couldnae have stayed there and lived a life that wasnae mine."

Anna nodded slowly. She could understand that; after all, it was only a few days ago she'd made a similar decision—to leave her own life behind for an uncertain future in some new place.

She propped her chin on her hand. "Tell me about this Order of yours."

"How long have ye got?" he said with a smile. "I left home with a head full of dreams of adventure and glory. What I got was nothing like that. The training was brutal. Not just physically but mentally. We were taught to think, to strategize, to outwit our enemies. We are not just warriors but diplomats, scholars even, like my sword-brother Conall. I could never beat any of my sword-brothers with the blade but when it came to the bow, well, that was a different matter. I guess I had reason to be thankful to my father after all."

"And Lily's Oskar is part of your order too?"

"Aye. He's the best swordsman I've ever met. "

Anna shook her head at the craziness of it all. "I can't believe Lily never told me. I'm her best friend! I'm going to kill her when I see her!"

"I'm sure she wanted to tell ye," Emeric said placatingly. "But ours is a dangerous life and anyone who gets caught up in our business can find themselves in jeopardy."

"But Lily got caught up in it."

"Aye, she did. But like Irene MacAskill says, that was her choice. She couldnae make yer choice for ye."

Anna's head came up. "Like who says?"

He waved a hand as if this was unimportant. "Irene MacAskill. Just someone I know."

The cold, which had been lifting from Anna's bones with the heat of the inn, suddenly settled back in. Irene MacAskill?

Emeric gave her a puzzled look. "Are ye all right, Anna? Ye've gone as pale as a landed fish."

Anna opened her mouth but no words came out. She felt like the floor was tilting under her. "This Irene MacAskill," she said, forcing the words out beyond a tightness in her throat. "Is she small, with gray hair that she ties back into a bun?"

"Aye. How do ye know that?"

"Because I saw her, right before I ended up here."

Emeric choked on his ale, coughing and spluttering as he put down his mug with a thump. "What?" He coughed again and then stared at her, his eyes wide. "Ye saw Irene MacAskill? Did she speak to ye? What did she say? And why didnae ye tell me? "

"Why would I tell you? She was just some old woman who turned up at that farmhouse I went to when I got lost. She wasn't important and she didn't say anything of note. Just some ramblings about choice and destiny and stuff." She paused. "Emeric, why are you looking at me like that?"

Emeric's brow furrowed. "Because, lass, Irene MacAskill is anything but unimportant and her words are not ramblings—even though it might seem so at the time."

It was Anna's turn to shake her head. "What? How do you even know her? I met her in the twenty-first century, not this one."

"That doesnae matter. Time holds no meaning for one like her."

"One like her?"

"The Fae, lass. Irene MacAskill is one of the Fae."

Anna sat back. What? Was he trying to tell her that the eccentric old woman who'd accosted her at the farmhouse was actually some kind of fairy tale creature who could travel through time? Ridiculous!

And yet...and yet...

"What are you talking about?" she stammered. "I don't understand."

Emeric blew out a breath and ran a hand through his hair. "Neither do I, lass. All I know is that Irene MacAskill has a habit of turning up when least expected, and turning people's lives upside down. But she's a friend of the Order for all that." He leaned forward, clasping his hands together. "What exactly did she say to ye, lass?"

Anna pursed her lips, trying to remember. In halting, stuttering sentences, she relayed everything that had happened to her from the moment she'd walked out of her job and decided to go see Lily, to the moment Emeric had stumbled over her trapped in that bog, leaving nothing out this time including getting fired and bumping into Irene MacAskill.

Emeric listened in silence but his expression grew grimmer as she spoke. Finally, when Anna had lapsed into silence, he said, "What made ye think Lily lived out here?"

"Because I followed the address she gave me."

"And it was Lily herself who gave ye her address? With her own hand?"

"Well, not with her own hand, no. She sent me a text message."

"A what?"

"A message. On my phone. A little electronic device."

"Can ye be sure the message was from Lily?"

Of course it was from Lily! Who else would it have been from? But now she thought about it, the message, although it had been signed off by Lily, had come from a number she hadn't recognized. She'd assumed Lily had just got a new phone.

"Hang on," she said, putting her hands flat on the table. "What are you saying? That Lily didn't send me that message after all?"

"If she did, why would she send ye miles in the wrong direction? As I've told ye, Lily and Oskar live in Edinburgh."

"But...but...then who did send it? Irene MacAskill?"

He shrugged. "Perhaps. She's Fae. Who knows why they do the things they do. "

Anna considered this, her pulse racing and her thoughts whirling. She felt suddenly like a rat in a trap. What exactly had Irene said to her? The balance is out of kilter because ye are not where and when ye are supposed to be, Anna Webster. But now ye have a chance to change that.

Her eyes flicked to Emeric and she found him watching her intently. Ye are not where and when ye are supposed to be.

"I...I don't get it," Anna said, shaking her head. "What would one of these Fae want with me?"

"I dinna know. I only know that if she spoke to ye, then she has a plan for ye, something she needs ye to do."

"Like what?"

"I havenae the faintest idea." He drained his tankard and thumped it down on the table. "Well, whatever Irene wanted, we willnae figure it out tonight. It will be getting dark soon. Time we were heading home."

He pushed himself up from the table, his tall form casting a long shadow across the weathered wooden surface, and turned to the innkeeper. The man was busy wiping mugs with an old piece of cloth, but he looked up when Emeric approached.

"We'll be needing our horses," Emeric said, his deep voice carrying easily through the quiet tavern.

The man's bushy eyebrows came together in a frown. "Which way are ye headed?"

"South."

The innkeeper shook his head. "Then I have bad news for ye, friend. I've just had word that the river's broken its banks. Islemere bridge is down. "

"Bloody hell," Emeric muttered, his brow furrowed in annoyance. He swung around to face Anna, his expression one of vexed apology. He scratched his head and gave her a resigned smile. "We'll have to spend the night here then. There's not much more we can do."

"Here? In the inn? But..." Anna glanced around the rustic common room. "Oh, bloody hell," she finished, echoing Emeric's words.

"Aye, that sums it up quite well, I reckon." Turning to the innkeeper, Emeric said, "We'll need two separate rooms."

"Two?" the innkeeper said in surprise. "But I thought..." He cleared his throat. "Right ye are. I have two left. The rates be fair and the beds warm. Follow me."

Anna shared a look with Emeric, then accepted the key handed to her by the burly innkeeper. He led them up a creaking staircase to a hallway lit by sputtering candles held in iron sconces. He stopped at two doors opposite each other and handed Anna a brass key that matched the door's ancient-looking lock.

"Safe dreams, miss," he said.

"Um. Thank you," Anna replied, her voice barely a whisper.

She watched as the innkeeper lumbered back down the stairs, leaving her alone in the dimly lit hallway with Emeric. The shadows danced on his face, highlighting his strong jawline and the intensity of his eyes. She swallowed hard, all too aware of the thudding of her heart against her ribcage.

"Well, see you in the morning," she said, with forced joviality.

"Aye. Sleep well, lass," he rumbled .

With a final glance at Emeric, Anna turned the key in the lock and pushed open the door to her room. It was small but surprisingly cozy with a large bed covered in a patchwork quilt, a small washstand, and a solitary wooden chair. It was not at all the poky little hovel she'd expected of a medieval inn. The room smelled faintly of lavender and old wood.

Closing the door behind her, she leaned against it, her heart still pounding. She felt oddly vulnerable here in this strange room far from home and without Emeric's reassuring presence.

She stripped down to her shift, hanging her wet dress by the fire to dry, then lay on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. Outside, the rain continued to lash down, rattling against the shutters like hail. Thoughts churned in her head. Emeric. Irene MacAskill. Lily. Emeric. Round and round they went.

She grabbed one of the lumpy pillows and put it over her head, trying unsuccessfully to drown it all out.