A Laird to Hold Angeline Fortin (most important books of all time .TXT) 📖

“Aye, and ye as well?”

Claire nodded. “He used to work at Mark-Davis.”

“He served in the Rosebraugh stables for years,” Hugh turned to Donell, concealing as best he could how confounded he was. For all this time had shown him, nothing compared to this coincidence. “Would ye care to explain how that’s possible?”

The old man stuffed his fists into his pockets, rocked back on his heels and looked about the room. “Bit crowded in here, ain’t it?”

“Sure would be interested in hearing your master plan, Donell.” Again, it was Scarlett who spoke the question raging in Hugh’s mind. No doubt in the mind of everyone in the room.

Laird might’ve been the only one unmoved by the old man’s appearance. His icy gray eyes remained locked on Hugh with a mixture of disbelief and shock.

“Och, well, I ne’er did anticipate ha’ing all its parts together in one room,” Donell responded to Scarlett, scuffing the toe of his shoe on the floor. “Bluidy awkward.”

“I’ll say,” Emmy chimed in. “Never thought all your little projects would be in one place, did you?”

Confusion further clouded Hugh’s mind and he tried to shake the stagnant feeling. “What do ye mean projects? Did Donell hae something to do wi’ all this?”

Scarlett laughed aloud, the sound filled with bitterness. “How can you doubt it? Didn’t he lead you down some primrose path with cryptic advice about finding what you’ve been looking for?”

“Or about second chances?” Emmy glared at Donell, who suddenly seemed fascinated by his feet.

Hugh frowned. “Nay, I—”

“Fate.”

He looked down at his wife. “What?”

“He said it must have been fate that day I first found you,” Claire told him with wide eyes. “And that everything happened for a reason. That was why I finally decided to help you.”

Anger surged in Hugh and he glared at the man he’d long considered a kindly part of his childhood. For months, Hugh had been jailed, treated worse than an animal. And Donell had known all along?

“Ye knew I was in that hell hole? And did nothing after all the kindness my family showed ye?”

Donell shook his head, but with more regret than denial. “I dinnae mean to hae ye suffer as ye did, lad. It just took longer to arrange things than I thought. I regret yer pains.”

“Why did ye do it? Why?”

“I told yer mother, ye were meant for better things.” Hardly the justification Hugh was looking for. “And I was correct, aye? Look at ye now.”

“Sloppy is as sloppy does, eh Donell?” There was a wealth of sarcasm in Scarlett’s tone. “We all got a dose of suffering thanks to you.”

Not like his, Hugh would wager. Months in a tiny cell, treated like an animal. Hunted like prey. “To what end? Speak, auld mon. I would know what game ye play.”

“Wouldn’t we all,” this from Connor.

“Aye,” Laird agreed, finally speaking for the first time since Hugh had dropped the bomb of his ancestry upon them.

His ancestry. Hugh looked back at Laird with a dash of pride mixed in with his wonder. This man was his grandfather. Scarlett Thomas, his grandmother. Many times removed, aye, but still his blood.

The moment he’d seen his medallion around the man’s neck, combined with the kilt Laird had worn, the ancient Hepburn tartan, he’d suspected the truth. No matter how fantastic the thought that what had happened to him, being moved through time and space, inconceivably happened to another.

He and Claire had been outside the infirmary for the past day, waiting for an opportunity to present itself after being turned away from the door. No amount of bribery had gotten them past the nurse’s station. Fate had been smiling on them when he’d recognized Connor and Emmy standing at the curb in need of assistance.

Fate.

He glanced at his wife again. Had Donell’s words to her truly been the reason she’d chosen to help him escape? But how had Donell known Hugh was imprisoned at the lab to begin with? It wasn’t as though he’d brought him there. Hugh had fallen through a portal generated by the lab. Science had brought him to this time.

How, then, was Donell here? And the others? How did they all know the old man?

“Did ye ken Donell from yer time as well?” he questioned Laird but looked to Connor as well.

Both men nodded, confusing Hugh all the more. He turned to Donell. “Ye dinnae employ the machine at the lab. ‘Tis too well guarded. So, how did ye manage it?”

“Machine?” Laird repeated. “There were nae machines to what he did. ‘Twas magic.”

To Hugh’s surprise, the others in the room all nodded in agreement. Emmy punctuated hers with a shrug that told him she didn’t like to believe in such nonsense, but couldn’t argue the point.

The man of science and reason within him rebelled at the thought. “Och, there’s nae such thing as magic!”

“Of course, there is. How else could you explain Donell pulling us all through time then?” As soon as Scarlett voiced the question, she turned her inquisitive gaze to Donell. Everyone’s eyes followed hers.

“Time to fess up, you old fart,” Emmy added.

Donell’s mouth opened and closed like a landed fish under the expectant looks directed at him. He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and Scarlett jumped up with a wince.

“No, don’t let him…”

But Donell was gone in a blink. Laird reached toward him but caught nothing but air. If Hugh hadn’t seen the old man disappear with his own eyes, he never would have believed it possible.

Magic.

Fookin’ sorcery.

Scarlett

Hugh and Claire had won points with practically everyone in the room by bringing a suitcase full of men and women’s clothes with them. Apparently