CHAPTER 28
Fingal had sent for his oldest son, Blair. It was early in the day, but a fire was already burning in the fireplace, and
a cup of sweet, heavy wine was warming him up. He didn’t like to admit it, but his wound and the subsequent fever had
cost him a great deal of strength. On top of that, he’d had a bad fever of the lungs several months back. That had also
almost killed him, and he had not been able to fully recover since then.
For the first time in his life, he felt his age, and it made him restless. There was so much left to do before his time
would come. He owed that to his sons, and to his clan. He had taken a first step already when he expected not to live
through that fever. Back then, he had called on his sons to recognize their eldest brother, Blair, as his successor and
future clan chief. They swore Blair loyalty and allegiance, just as he had demanded. While that took care of his
succession, the constant feuds and cattle raids along the borders worried him more every day.
When Blair entered, Fingal hoped that his son would recognize the importance of long-lasting peace and submit to his
wishes.
“Blair, mo bailaich, come in and sit with me. I have to discuss a matter of the utmost urgency with you.”
Blair took a seat in his favorite spot by the chessboard. As befitted the game of kings, two magnificent chairs invited
players to sit down for a game.
Fingal joined him, taking a fragile pawn and opening the game by moving the piece forward two squares. He set down his
cup of wine and took his seat opposite Blair. They had played so many games against each other that Fingal already
anticipated Blair’s first countermove: pushing his own pawn two spaces up against his. He smiled when his son did not
disappoint.
“I have asked you here today because I’ve been thinking about something,” he started their conversation. He moved a
knight onto the board.
Blair countered with his own black knight and looked his father square in the eye.
“What I want for you is a life without conflict and strife. These constant unrests need to be resolved once and for
all. We must make peace between the clans.”
“Aye, Father. But what do you want us to do? We cannot put up with these cattle raids.”
“This is why we need to establish and strengthen alliances, my son. Not just by an oath but by arrangements that are
longer lasting. We must unite our families and establish blood ties.”
Blair’s hand floated above his chess pieces.
“I agree with you, m’athair.”
“A marriage would unite our clans far better than any oath,” Fingal continued.
“An arranged marriage? And you will allow me to choose my own wife, Father, will you not?”
“Of course I’m not going to force you, but I’m sure you will do what is necessary.”
“I will, but I prefer to choose my own bride. However, I will gladly take your suggestions into account.”
Fingal was relieved. He had expected to be met with greater resistance.
“And if children were to come of such a union,” Fingal enthused, “then we would gain long-lasting, enduring peace.”
He rose from his chair feeling satisfied. Placing a hand on his son’s shoulder, he said, “I am very proud of your
understanding and sense of responsibility. You are going to lead our clan into peaceful times.”
“Father, don’t talk like that. You are on the road to recovery and will regain your health and strength in no time.
You will be managing our clan’s affairs for many years to come,” Blair countered, making his next move on the
chessboard.
A knock on the door interrupted their conversation, but for now Fingal was content. Blair would know what was right, and
he would act accordingly. Kyle stuck his head through the half-open door.
“Father, we have visitors. Duncan Stuart and some of his men are in the Great Hall. I had roast meats and beer taken to
them. Would you like to join them, or do you want me to ask Payton to keep them company?”
“Where is Sean? I want him to fill in for me for a while. Blair and I are just not finished with our talk.”
Kyle shrugged. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen Sean all day. He wasn’t even in the hall at breakfast time. Nor was
Payton.”
Fingal was visibly displeased. He pressed his lips into a thin line and turned to Blair.
“Since your brother Sean has apparently decided to chase after skirts right now, we will have to continue our
conversation at a later time. But we’re in agreement on the important things, which I find reassuring. Would you go
greet our guests whilst I’m having my bandages changed? This damn poultice is soaked through and running down my side.
”
Blair was already back on his feet.
“As you wish. I will give them your regards.” With that, he made for the hall with Kyle wanting to join him—but
Fingal had a task for his youngest.
“Wait. Go look for Payton. I need someone to keep an eye on that Cameron girl while we have the Stuarts in the house.
And I need her here in my chambers. Nanny MacMillan is still a little scornful because I might have been grumpy toward
her yesterday.”
Kyle chuckled because he knew that she could hold a grudge for a long time, despite being an otherwise kind soul.
“Aye, Father, I will see what I can do,” he said on his way out.
Fingal McLean stayed behind and emptied his goblet of wine. All that was left for him to do was to inform an
unsuspecting Sam of his plan of marrying her to Blair. The McLeans, after all, had been friends with the Stuarts for a
long time, and this marriage would add peace and an alliance between the McLeans and the Camerons. The long-standing
blood feud between the Stuarts and the Camerons, on the other hand, was none of his concern.
It was high time for Payton to take me back to my own room. I was nervous about someone finding me in his chambers. We
had slept way in, and we hadn’t even wanted to fall asleep to begin with. But being together and feeling safe and
secure in each other’s arms had obviously made us drift off.
I tried my hardest to smooth down the creases on my dress, which had been carelessly tossed to the floor the previous
night.
Payton seemed relatively unfazed. At least he wasn’t in a great hurry to button up his shirt or comb his disheveled
hair.
“What if someone is looking for me? What if your father needs my help?” I pointed out.
“Father has Nanny MacMillan. He would ask for her first.”
An urgent knock on the door startled us and made Payton frown. Now he suddenly got really busy with his horn buttons.
Quickly he slid over to the door but only opened it a crack.
“What do you want?” he growled.
I pricked my ears.
“What’s going on? What’s keeping you? We were supposed to help mend the pasture fence behind the stables. Did you
already forget?” Kyle asked, and pushed past Payton. He stopped when he noticed me. Reflecting his astonished
disbelief, his gaze wandered from me to Payton, down to Payton’s wrongly buttoned shirt, and back to me.
“What the…?”
“Hello, Kyle,” I said sheepishly, frantically racking my brain for a plausible explanation for my being in Payton’s
room. It turned out that I didn’t need one.
“I was picking up Sam in her chambers,” said Payton, “and we were on our way to the hall, when one of Ross’s stupid
dogs jumped up on me and wiped its filthy paws on my shirt. I had to go and get changed.”
I nodded eagerly, and—even though it was obvious from Kyle’s face that he didn’t believe a single word—Kyle gave a
quick nod and folded his arms across his chest.
“Aye, I understand, mo bràthair. Well, as soon as you’ve changed into a clean shirt that you absolutely need for
working on those fences, you are to take Samantha to Father’s chambers and then get your ass over to the hall. The
fences will have to wait. We’ve got visitors.”
With that, he shot me a grin and, walking backward on his way out, he playfully punched Payton’s shoulder.
“He knows, right?” I asked.
“Aye, he knows. Luckily, it’s Kyle. He will keep his mouth shut.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“We’ve always been very close. Blair and Sean stick together because they’re the oldest. Kyle and I are united in the
feeling of only ever bothering the grown-ups. We look out for each other, ken, and we help each other. It has always
been that way.”
I swallowed hard. Payton’s simple explanation, the casual ease with which he assumed his brother’s loyalty, and the
brotherly love that resonated in each of his words were almost more than I could take.
How could I send Kyle to his death—Kyle, that ray of sunshine with his entire life still ahead of him? How could I
possibly allow it? But I didn’t have a choice, did I. I couldn’t risk changing the future so significantly. His death
would lead to a whole avalanche of events, and I didn’t dare interfere with the course of history, couldn’t risk
changing it—perhaps cutting off my own roots and my own lifeline in the process.
But even though there was nothing I could do to change these brothers’ fates, I had to do something. I couldn’t let
Payton lug this guilt around with him for the next two hundred and seventy years. I had to help him find hope and
forgiveness before we met again in the twenty-first century.
“You coming?” His question jolted me from my thoughts.
“Huh?”
“Are you coming? We should hurry so we don’t arouse any more suspicion.”
I nodded, but only because I didn’t trust my voice. I felt like breaking down and crying. Where had my inner strength
gone?
We walked beside each other like strangers, Payton McLean with his prisoner, Samantha Cameron, each trying not to touch
the other, or even look at the other. Nobody could know how close we had been the night before.
Once we arrived at Fingal’s door, Payton gave me a quick wink and promised to come and get me for supper. Then he
handed me off to his father and left.
“Samantha, come in. I took the liberty of removing the poultice myself. If you could just help me apply fresh bandages.
”
I walked over to the washstand and took a clean linen strip from the basket that Nanny MacMillan had left behind when
she stormed out of the room the day before. In silence and still deeply engrossed in my own somber thoughts, I wrapped
the piece of cloth firmly around Fingal’s chest. The wound was healing well. Sometime in the future, a small scar would
take its place and prove to the world that I had in fact existed here—in this era.
“Lassie, you look glum. Are you frightened of something?”
To share with Fingal what I was going through would surely go well beyond his imagination. Being scared would have to
do, and so I nodded.
“You don’t need to worry. I have placed you under my protection.” He slipped into his shirt and looked me straight in
the eye. “And not only that—but as I mentioned before, you are going to help me leave a legacy of long-lasting peace
for my sons. I just talked with Blair. He understands his duties and obligations to the clan, and I’m sure that you,
too, will come to see your benefit in this.” He stopped talking to study my face, and then he nodded. “You two are a
good fit.”
I didn’t understand. What the heck was he talking about?
“Once you are married, Cathal might actually change his mind and put an end to this old feud between the Stuarts and
the Camerons.”
“Married? Me?” I looked at him wide-eyed and completely befuddled. I was sure that I had misheard him.
“Calm down, my dear. Consider the alternative: Cathal takes you with him, uses you for his own desires and purposes—
whatever they may be. Who knows what kind of a future you would have with him. On the other hand, you could choose a
marriage to Blair, a peace-loving, responsible man whom I raised well and who will treat his wife well and with respect.
”
Oh my God! I had not misheard him! Crazy laughter rose from my throat. This was insane! I didn’t even belong here!
“Samantha, think about my proposal before you reject it flat out. I will await your reply tonight.”
“Milord, really, I don’t need to think about it. It is completely impossible to enforce peace between your clans by
marrying me to your son. I’m not as close to the Cameron clan as you perhaps imagine. In fact, I’m pretty sure that
nobody at Castle Coulin actually misses me.”
I almost burst out laughing again, because the fine folks at Castle Coulin would be really surprised to learn of my
existence.
“Oh, nonsense. This has nothing to do with your standing in the clan and everything to do with your having Cameron
blood in your veins. Which will be perfectly sufficient as a sign of peace and goodwill.”
I didn’t know how to respond: It all sounded utterly absurd.
I was saved by a knock on the door, and I breathed a sigh of relief when Fingal walked over to open it.
“Is there no peace in this house, ever?” he thundered, outraged at yet another interruption. After yanking open the
door and exchanging a few words with my nameless savior, he asked me to wait inside.
“I’ll be right back,” he promised.
The door closed behind him with a thud, releasing me from my paralysis. I had to get out of here! I had wasted way too
much time already, and Fingal’s plan very clearly showed this. No matter how much it would hurt me to leave Payton, I
really had no other choice.
I hurried over to the window, jerked it open, and realized that I would break every single bone in my body if I were to
try to take that route. Climbing down the castle wall was risky even if I had enough time to tie together Fingal’s bed
curtains and use them for a rope.
“Shit, friggin’ shit!” I exclaimed, looking for a different way out. My eyes wandered across the room and landed on
the narrow secretary desk, complete with sheets of paper and a quill pen.
Jesus, a quill! And where would one find a regular pen or pencil? Seriously, everything in the past just sucked! My
hands were shaking as I pulled the stopper from the small inkwell and dipped the tip of the quill in it. What should I
write? What words could give Payton comfort over the next few hundred years or so? How could I tell him what I needed to
tell him in the short amount of time I had left?
A giant inkblot dripped onto the page.
“Dammit!” I put the tip of the quill to paper, clumsily scratching over the page. Blots, smudges, illegible
handwriting…but I eventually managed to get the words of forgiveness out and onto paper. With every minute that passed,
I grew more anxious that Fingal might return and catch me red-handed at his desk. So I signed the letter and, while
waiting for the ink to dry, I tried to rearrange everything in the exact way I had found it. When I heard steps outside,
I quickly folded the page and pushed it into my corselet at the same instant the door opened.
My attempt at leaning against the windowsill in as low-key a manner as possible failed miserably when I realized who was
standing in the doorway. My pulse quickened, and the little hairs on the back of my neck stood up.