My Heart Stood Still Lynn Kurland (some good books to read TXT) 📖

him. "This is the truth of it. I traveled through time, then found myself in your father's pit. Duncan rescued me. He and I followed your trail. We overtook Charles's men, only to find you not among them. We fought with them just the same. We slew them, but at the cost of Duncan's life."

"Why did Duncan come?" she asked, looking pained.

"Because he loved you. And he believed me when I told him Lord Charles would kill you if left to himself."

She bowed her head. "Duncan protected me quite often at great cost to himself. He was a good man."

You don't know the half of it, Thomas thought to himself.

Then she looked up at him suddenly. "How did you know where the English-man was taking me? Not even my sire knew that."

Later, he thought. Later, when you'll believe me. "Duncan helped me," he said, which wasn't untrue. "After Duncan was slain, I took up the trail and followed you. I trailed you to the English-man's keep, got inside, and walked up the stairs to the tower room."

"How did you get past the guards?"

"The same way we got out of the castle. With the help of the ghosts. Charles had killed scores of people. Their ghosts were milling about outside the keep. They spoke to me and told me their tale. I asked for their help."

She looked at him skeptically but didn't stop him.

"So," he continued, "I got inside the tower chamber, distracted Charles, and the rest you know. Except," he added slowly, "for a couple of things that make the story make sense."

"Such as?"

"The secret of the MacLeod keep."

She was very still. "Aye?" she asked carefully.

"Well, the secret really is time travel," he said. "I wouldn't believe it if I hadn't experienced it myself."

She was watching him closely, but she wasn't calling him names or shaking her head. Those were good signs.

"And I really can see ghosts," he said. "My mother can, too. So can my sister."

"Your father?" she prompted.

"My father would"— he wanted to say come unglued, but that wasn't exactly medieval terminology— "he would roar endlessly if he knew I could, so believe me, he knows nothing of it. I didn't ask for this."

She nodded. " 'Tis understandable."

"He thinks we're all out of our minds."

"I think I would like him," she murmured.

"You probably would. And all I can say is it's lucky I can see ghosts, or we wouldn't be standing here today."

"Why is that?"

Thomas wondered how the hell he was going to get out of this intact. He wished he'd had a comfortable pair of jeans with pockets just made for him to jam his hands into.

"Well, there are several reasons," he said, hoping he managed to get through all of them before she either walked away or decked him. Why hadn't he thought to offer to hold her knife for her? "First is that the year I bought the castle was 2001."

She only blinked.

"And the keep was Thorpewold."

At that, she flinched.

"And the Highlanders I saw, including Connor MacDougal, were ghosts."

"Ah," she said; then she felt silent.

That silence became as tangible as a third person standing there. The sea still roared next to them, and the birds still wheeled in the sky above. But between the two of them, there was a stillness that half made him begin to wonder if they would remain frozen there forever.

Iolanthe took a deep breath. "And the woman?"

Thomas nodded slowly. "Yes. She was a ghost as well."

"And her name?"

He paused. "Iolanthe MacLeod."

She closed her eyes and swallowed. Hard. He could see her struggle with something, but whether it was disbelief or fear or revulsion, he couldn't tell. Then she opened her eyes and looked at him.

"I can scarce believe it," she said hoarsely.

"I know."

" 'Tis madness."

"I was hoping," he said slowly, "that you would remember."

"Remember what?" she asked with a humorless laugh. "My own death?"

"No, six hundred years of haunting," he said.

"And why," she asked with a break in her voice, "why, by the very saints of heaven, would I want to remember such a thing?" She wrapped her arms around herself. "Ach, but what a misery that must have been!"

He nodded slowly. "Yes, I think it was."

She took several paces away from him, then came back and stood in front of him. She looked up at him. "Did I..." She asked, "Did I love you?"

Now that was the question for the ages. He had no idea how he was supposed to answer it. He could lie, he supposed, but what good would that do? He took a deep breath. The truth it would be.

"Yes," he said quietly. "Yes, I think you did."

She stared at him for several moments, then looked down at her feet. "Let's walk," she said.

"Of course."

They walked in silence for a very long time. Then she stopped. Thomas stopped, turned, and looked down at her. She was studying him as if she'd never seen him before.

"You could have been killed," she said quietly.

He shrugged with half a smile. "Perhaps."

"If all this is true," she said, but she didn't sound as skeptical as she had before, "then you took a very great risk."

"That, too."

"Yet that did not deter you."

"You were here. I had to come."

She nodded slowly, then turned and walked toward the place where the sea met the sand. Thomas watched her go, watched her stand with her head bowed and her arms around herself, watched her tremble.

And he wondered if she would manage to digest it all without losing it or breaking down.

He wondered what would be worse.

Then she put her shoulders back. She turned and walked purposefully toward him.

The look on her face made him realize that he was definitely not out of the woods yet.

"Prove it to me," she said, sticking her chin out. "Take me to your time. Let me see it for myself."

He smiled faintly. "Are you sure?"

She wasn't smiling. "Aye. I am."

He felt his smile fade, and he looked at her gravely. "Very well. I can't guarantee that what you'll see