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

Hugh asked. Now it struck him in thinking about them how similar his sister Mathilde’s coloring was to Scarlett’s. Auburn hair. Brown eyes. Though his sister was more statuesque in build.

“They’re all well. By the by, yer cousin and his new wife hae taken on a wee lad as their ward. An orphan of the battle at Culloden who has nae other to teach him the duties and responsibilities for his new title.” Donell’s face folded into a fond smile. “Once I pointed it out to Keir, he appreciated how appropriate it might be for a man learning to be a duke to share his education wi’ a young earl who is equally unprepared.”

Keir always had a kind heart. Though he’d hidden it well. Hugh was pleased to hear his cousin was doing so well. “Incredible. I’ve been able to find nae information aboot Rosebraugh.”

“And ye willnae. Cannae. I’m sorry for that as well.” The old man tipped his head back and swallowed down the rest of his ale as if he were drowning his sorrows. “But rest assured yer cousin is better than contented. He’s truly happy. For all the many mistakes I’ve made, ‘tis glad I am that one of them turned out for the best.”

“But I am nae mistake? Nor Scarlett? Or Emmy?”

Donell shook his head in the negative but provided nothing more.

Frustration inched its way up Hugh’s spine. “Will ye no’ tell me what we are then? That they will all be able to return home? Ye ken it weighs on them?”

“Ye’re no’ mistakes. Ye’re my attempt to fix one,” he answered cryptically. “And as long as ye’re still here, ye can ken they get home safe.”

Hugh took a sip of his own drink, considering his words. Aye, he wouldn’t have been born or be here now if they didn’t return to their lives in the past.

Donell slid off his stool and tipped his hat. “Well, ta-ra, lad. I maun be on my way. Pick up the tab, will ye?”

“Wait,” Hugh called after him as he ambled toward the door. “Will ye no’ tell me how ye did it?”

But he was gone with more speed than a man of his years should possess, leaving Hugh to ponder all he’d learned. Why had Donell gone to such lengths to help create a time machine when he possessed such power? What made Hugh different from the others?

There were no answers at the bottom of his whiskey glass. He suspected there would be none at all until Auld Donell was ready to give them.

* * *

The infant beneath the plastic shell of the incubator beyond the glass was asleep. Scrawny little thing, the man looking at her through the window to the neonatal nursery thought. Though the newborn lacked the excessive tubing and breathing apparatuses some of the even tinier babies had. He’d overheard the nurses talking. The child was basically healthy, just needed help to keep warm and eat. It wasn’t excessively premature.

It wasn’t going to die.

Not unless something drastic happened.

It’d been easy enough to backtrack the group he’d been watching outside from the parking lot to where they’d come from within the hospital. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been able to glean any information about the father of the child his investigation had led him to. The nurse became closed-mouthed when he’d asked too many pointed questions.

Were they just visitors or something more?

Unfortunately, the band around the baby’s ankle provided no assistance. Only a series of numbers and a barcode graced the blue band. He took a picture of it on the off chance he might be able to hack their system. Briefly, he considered snatching the baby and making a run for it, but the RFID technology imbedded in the ankle bracelet secured the child’s good fortune.

For now.

Turning on his heel, he strode with measured steps down the hall and past Scarlett Thomas’s hospital room. Unlike many of the rooms in this section, there was no window to the hall and the door was closed.

A part of him longed to open it, step in and confront her about the child and its father, but again he refrained. He wasn’t prepared to reveal himself and show his hand yet. He had time.

She wasn’t going anywhere.

Rhys

 

Ten days later

“Are ye all right, mate?”

“What? I beg yer pardon?” Rhys blinked and lifted his gaze to the lean man skirting the pool toward him.

“Nothing.” The chap laughed and slung a towel over his shoulder. “Ye’re just staring at the pool as if ye’d never seen one before.”

Rhys chuckled too, though he had to force some levity into the sound. If it looked as if he’d never seen a swimming pool before, it was because he hadn’t.

The water was impossibly clear. He could see through to the bottom. Even at what Hugh had termed the ‘deep end.’ What discouraged him thus far from diving in and enjoying the cool water, however, was the stink of it. An acrid stench he couldn’t quite identify. He’d been thinking about waiting for Hugh to join him prior to risking his health.

But perhaps he didn’t have to.

“Smells bluidy rank.” Rhys phrased his curiosity as casually as he could.

“Aye,” the fellow nodded. “They may have put too much chlorine in. Seen worse though. At least we’re not bleeding out our eyes, aye?”

“Aye.”

Taken aback that such a thing was a possibility, Rhys nonetheless echoed the man’s laughter once more. ‘Twas enjoyable the way he threw back his head and let the humor flow unrestrained as he removed his T-shirt. He was young, a few years younger than Rhys’s thirty years if he had to guess. Close cropped brown hair and hazel eyes. Nearly as tall as Rhys but far leaner with finely cut,