The Sapphire Brooch Katherine Logan (best beach reads TXT) 📖

her bag off her shoulder. “It’s not about comfort. It’s about finding true love, and there isn’t a damn thing easy about it.”

“What do the brooches have to do with finding true love?” she asked.

“It’s complicated, and we shouldn’t let it distract us.” David beckoned her to follow with a cock of his head. “We’ll tell ye everything we know when ye return.”

Charlotte crossed her arms. “No. I’m not moving until you tell me what the stones have to do with true love.”

Elliott sighed, scratching the back of his head. “Sean the first told Kit a story she later recorded in her journal in 1852. She left the journal for me to find in the future. According to the story, over four hundred years ago, a laird’s wife was kidnapped. Three brothers went to rescue her. When they returned her to her husband, the brothers were each rewarded with a brooch. One was a ruby, the other a sapphire, and the third brother received an emerald.” Elliott cleared his throat. “The stones bring true lovers together.”

“What?” Charlotte put her hands on her hips and stomped to within a foot of Elliott. “Are you serious? This has all been about finding true love? What. A. Bunch. Of. Crap.”

Elliott threw up his arms. “I’m merely telling ye what I learned. Ye’ll meet Sean shortly. Ask him.”

“I will.” She marched into the office, then stopped, and turned back toward Elliott, who was standing in the doorway, looking rather perplexed. “The stone gods got it wrong this time. You know that, don’t you?”

He sort of smiled and shrugged. “I don’t have any control over the stones, Charlotte. I don’t get to decide who gets them or where the stones take them. My job is to prepare people for their journey. This isn’t about what’s before ye, or even what’s behind ye. It’s about what’s within ye. When it’s all said and done, if ye can say ye’re a happier and better person and have a fuller life than ye did before, then the brooch will have given ye all it was meant to give.”

“I want my brother back, but even when I get him back, we won’t know anything about each other because we’ll have different memories. I can tell you right now, when this is all said and done, I will not be a happier and better person.” She grabbed a tissue from the box on the desk and wiped her eyes. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to take this out on you. You’re right. You didn’t pick me. You’ve given me everything I need to succeed. It’s up to us now to bring Jack home.” She went over to him and held out her arms for a hug. “Thank you so much.”

Elliott pulled her into his arms and squeezed. “Ye’ll be fine, lass. Trust yer intuition and ye’ll turn ’round right.”

She wasn’t sure what he meant, but when she returned home she’d have plenty of time to reflect on his Elliott-isms.

David set her bag next to his on the conference table. He pulled out his cell phone and handed it to Elliott. “Don’t run up my bill while I’m gone.”

Elliott hugged him. “Ye got everything? Money—”

David held up his hand. “No litany, please. We’ve gone through this a dozen times. If I’ve forgotten anything, we’ll make do.” He turned toward Charlotte. “Are ye ready, Charley?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Elliott handed the brooch to her, and she quickly turned it over to David. “You steer this trip.”

He gave it back. “I can’t. This trip is yer destiny. Not mine.” David looped the straps of his bags around his shoulders.

“Are you armed?” she asked.

He flipped open his jacket, revealing a revolver tucked in its shoulder holster.

“Good. If we land in the midst of a battle—”

He gave her a thumbs-up signal. “I got yer back.” David’s dark brows drew together as though the late afternoon sunlight bothered him now that he was without his aviators. He caught her eye, and gave her a wry grin.

She tried to give the Frasers a smile, but her lips felt stiff. Days of preparation had led to this moment. Her heart hammered suddenly in her ears. God, she couldn’t believe she was doing this again. It was going to be the last trip. A trickle of sweat ran down between her bound breasts as the brooch heated in her hand.

David tapped her on the head. “Hold on to yer hat.”

The tension broke, her anxiety faded, and she smiled. “I’ll hold on to my hat. You hold on to me.” She opened the stone, took a breath, and then stammered through the Gaelic spell once more. As the fog swirled around her feet, she added a silent prayer.

79

MacKlenna Farm, Lexington, Kentucky, 1865

When the fog lifted, Charlotte found herself on a tree-lined drive leading to the MacKlennas’ front porch. Instead of asphalt, the driveway was a dirt road full of muddy potholes. The fragrant smell of burning wood hung in the air. When she and David had left the future, the buds of the trees had been bursting open in the springlike breezes. Now brilliant sunshine streamed through the dense stand of elm trees. Dark green, fully leafed branches formed a canopy on both sides of the road. The season had jumped ahead from late March to May or early June. It wasn’t hot enough to be summer.

She glanced at David. His face was unreadable, but not his eyes, which were scanning the landscape. He was perfectly still, a warrior assessing danger and weighing risks. Then he seemed to relax and adjusted the weight of his two large carpetbags. “The wee farm looks the same but different. If ye had put me in the paddock out of sight of the house, I would have still known where I was.”

“It’s beautiful, regardless of the century. Do you think the architect intended the Doric columns to resemble sentries guarding the house?”

“Thomas MacKlenna designed the house to resemble