Wild about the Witch Page 14

  Honestly, she wanted everyone to leave. She poured a tiny bit of whiskey, hoping it would calm her irritation and get rid of her headache. Settling down at the table, she surveyed her guests.

  Oliver had perked up considerably. Elbow to elbow with Mel at the counter, he helped her slice carrots, while she asked him question after question about his townhouse, his country house, his life. She wondered when Mellie had gained such an interest in the past, and wondered if she was interested in Oliver himself or always wanted to ask such questions of Lachlan but was too scared.

  Lachlan had relaxed considerably since he’d settled into this time, and was getting used to not having to be in charge of everything, but still had moments of autocratic bossiness. She thought he seemed happy, but wondered if he’d grow bored with no real responsibility.

  Aren’t you sick of worrying about everyone? A nasty little voice sounded in her head.

  She sat up straighter and almost exclaimed out loud at it. Evie looked at her, eyebrows raised. She had mostly convinced her she was fine now, ever since they returned from the ill-fated visit to her grandmother in the past. And she had been, until they returned from vacation. Perhaps whatever plagued her was afraid to fly, or couldn’t leave the land.

  She wanted to confide in Evie, get her imaginative ideas and opinions about it, but was overcome with another overwhelming sense of anger. Why was she mad at Evie? It didn’t make sense, but it was so strong, she had to look away from her friend’s inquisitive smile.

  Thankfully Sam mentioned it was time to fetch Magnus, and after telling her to call one of them if Catie needed a ride back to their house after she spoke with Lachlan and Quinn, they headed for the door.

  “Catie will be fine,” Piper snapped, then pressed her lips together, alarmed at her voice.

  She wanted to say thank you, see you later, anything to soften her bitchy tone, but the words wouldn’t come out. They literally wouldn’t come out, and panic rose as she also realized she was holding her teacup in a crushing grip. When had she even picked it up?

  A few moments after Sam and Evie left, Catie peeped her head around the back door. Lizzie stood up and ran to her, taking her hands and pulling her into the kitchen.

  “Catie, I’m so glad you’re all right,” she said.

  Catie looked relieved to see her old chaperone, then her face went through a series of horrified expressions, settling on fear.

  “Quinn is here?” she asked, all color drained from her face.

  Lizzie nodded and gently turned Catie to the kitchen counter, where Oliver stood with the knife poised frozen over a large, leafy carrot. He swallowed hard and Piper didn’t think it was possible, but Catie went even paler. She thought the girl might faint, and wanted to rush to her side, but her feet wouldn’t do what her mind wanted, and her hand shook.

  Piper looked at the cup in her trembling hand and struggled to put it down. Tears burned the backs of her eyes, but wouldn’t fall. She couldn’t control her own body, and the voice was back. She didn’t feel good about what might be coming.

  “Oliver,” Catie squeaked. “Why are ye here? I mean, I’m pleased to see ye,” she finished lamely, turning to Lizzie, then Piper, for help. Lizzie shook her head, and Piper was powerless to do anything.

  “Well, we came to rescue you,” Lizzie said, flapping her hands. “However, it seems you’re doing well.”

  “Aye,” Catie said, eyes narrowing. She looked apologetically at Oliver. “I didna need rescuing, though I thank ye for trying.”

  “Certainly,” he said stiffly.

  Piper laughed at the ridiculous manners flying everywhere and everyone looked at her.

  Why are they here? the voice hissed.

  The irritation Piper had been fighting since she came downstairs flared to red hot rage and she saw with horror that her hand was rising, as if she was going to fling the cup at someone. It didn’t matter who, she was equally disgusted with them all.

  Recalling the time she actually tried to speak back to the voice, she forced all her remaining will to keep her hands steady and closed her eyes.

  Let me go, she thought forcefully.

  Brilliant idea. Let us leave these intruders, the voice said cheerfully.

  Oh, that wasn’t what she meant and when her feet turned her toward the door leading to the front of the house, she used the last of her fading will to grab onto the table. How bizarre was she acting? Shouldn’t someone notice her behavior?

  Catie and Lizzie glared at one another. What was their deal now? Oliver stood awkwardly trying to get Catie’s attention and Mel was as imperturbable as ever. If Evie was here, she would notice something was wrong, that Piper was about to be dragged from the room by some inner force that had taken over.

  Scream, she told herself, no longer caring about embarrassment, only concentrating on trying to stay in the kitchen. With witnesses. If she could stay until Lachlan came back down, he would notice something was off. Maybe his strong, comforting presence would be enough to snap her free from whatever had her in its clutches.

  Like a robot, with stiff, jerky movements, she slammed the cup onto the table. Still no one glanced her way and she felt her mouth opening. Please let a scream come out, she thought.

  “I have to go … speak to Dr. Stone,” she heard her voice say.

  She shuffled toward the door. Whatever was controlling her didn’t seem to have the full hang of it and she tried one last time to grab the door frame as she made her way into the hall. Her fingers tingled and went numb and her feet continued to send her toward the front of the house.

  She made an abrupt turn past the stairs, knocking her shoulder into the bannister. The pain brought her back to her senses and she reached out and planted her palms on either side of the narrow hallway walls, trying to dig in her feet.

  I need you to come with me, the voice said. And after a tense moment, her muscles shaking from stiffly pressing the walls, the voice spoke again. Please.

  This so shocked her, she lost her concentration and her arms flapped to her sides, pinned there by the unseen force. Her legs began their ungainly march through the halls once more, as tears flowed over her lids and down her cheeks. She’d lost the tenuous control she regained and no amount of focus could get it back.

  She wound her way through the castle, down some stairs to an unused cellar, all the way to the back to stand in front of what looked like a plain plaster wall. Terror struck as she watched her hands push against the opening of the secret passage she’d meant to have permanently sealed, just hadn’t got around to it yet.

  The opening swung inward and she took a step, dragged into darkness by the force that controlled her.

  Chapter 15

  Lizzie sat locked in an awkward showdown with Catie, who wore a pink satin prom dress of all things, her hair mussed and windblown, her cheeks slightly sunburned. She looked radiant, not at all in need of rescuing, but as if she’d spent the time Lizzie was being dragged across the countryside by a madman, the same time that Quinn was frantic with worry and getting shot, having the absolute time of her life. And she had a new boyfriend? What in the hell was that all about? Poor Oliver.

  “Catie, sit down, please,” she said after Piper wandered out of the room, muttering about finding the doctor.

  Catie barely glanced at her. “I’ll do standing, thank ye,” she said.

  Lizzie sighed. “Your brother was injured in trying to get here.”

  Catie sat down. “What? Where is he?” She looked around. “I should go to him.”

  Lizzie tentatively placed her hand on Catie’s wrist. “The doctor’s patching him up. He should have stayed behind and let us come alone, but …”

  “Ah, that’s Quinn,” Catie finished. She shook her head, brow creased with worry.

  Oliver cleared his throat. “He would stop at nothing to make sure you were safe,” he said, then visibly gathered his courage and added, “Nor would I.”

  Catie’s back was to him, so only Lizzie saw her cl
ose her eyes and quietly sigh. Her light blue eyes popped open and beseeched Lizzie for help. Oliver had taken a chance in crossing the ages for someone he’d only known a month, and who had been on the verge of being promised to another. It had been a courageous gesture and completely daft.

  Lizzie didn’t know what to say. The rules she learned to follow in the eighteenth century didn’t apply here and no amount of managing could change things. It was as if the veil had been ripped away. Catie didn’t need a chaperone here in this time. There would be no turning back the clock for Oliver’s feelings.

  “Oliver, have you seen a car yet?” Mellie asked, putting her knife down.

  “They’re brilliant,” Catie said, overly chipper. She turned and gave Mellie a long look. “You should let him ride in yours.”

  Oliver shrugged, seeming tossed from Catie’s distinct lack of enthusiasm that he was there. Mellie linked her arm with his, snuggling right up next to him. That made the false, bright smile slide right off Catie’s face and she jumped up, suddenly saying she’d like to go for a ride as well.

  “Oh, no, young lady,” Lizzie told her. “You can’t have your cake and eat it, too.”

  She shook her head at Catie’s mood whiplash. As Mellie pulled Oliver out the door, she first looked outraged, then hurt, then relieved.

  The silence that filled the kitchen after the door swung shut almost suffocated Lizzie but she waited a moment for Catie to sort her obviously confused feelings about Oliver.

  “I’m sorry,” she said finally, realizing that Catie said the exact same thing at the same time. They both laughed and the tension lightened a little.

  “What have ye to be sorry for?” she asked, then held up her hand. “Before ye say anything, I want ye to know how sorry I am to have gone in your place. I tricked Lord Ashford. I dinna think he has a verra good memory and believed me when I said I was ye.” Catie took a deep breath and hurried on. “If it wasna for the kindness of my friend Shane and his mother, I wouldna be here. I— it was quite frightening at first to be in such a different time.”

  “Yes, I can relate,” Lizzie said.

  Catie twisted her hands in her skirt. “Ye must know I was desperate to save Lachlan. I know now I should have spoken to Quinn, or even to ye and I might have understood. I was a terrible brat to ye, when I knew ye were, ah, spending time with Quinn. I am sorry for that as well. It was none of my business.”

  Lizzie gathered her thoughts before answering. Catie didn’t know the depths of her treachery, and she considered just letting things lie. But, for the sake of moving forward with Quinn, everything had to be out in the open.

  “Catie, I love that about both of you, how much you care for each other. Granted, things got a little crazy, but we’re all together and safe now.” She took a deep breath. “I wasn’t completely honest, either. I knew Lord Hollingsborn was deeply in debt, and still I pushed for the match.”

  Catie shrugged. “I understand why ye did what ye did, to survive in our time.” She leaned close, her eyes sparkling, “Evie looked ye up on the computer and said ye were an actress. Were ye ever on the television?”

  Lizzie laughed, the tight band that had been restricting her chest loosening. “I had a few very tiny roles, and a couple adverts. Nothing spectacular at all.”

  “Ye must be so happy to be home at last.”

  Before she could answer, Lachlan stormed into the room, startling her and scaring Catie enough to make her jump and move behind the kitchen island.

  “Is Quinn going to be all right?” she asked, eyes wide.

  “Aye, and no thanks to ye,” he thundered.

  “It isna my fault,” she said, voice rising.

  “Ye knew he would follow after ye. It’s just as I said.” Lachlan looked like he was gearing up for a fight, but stopped and sat, putting his face in his hands. “One or the both of ye will be my death.”

  “Can I go speak to him?” she asked, edging around the counter.

  “He’s asleep and will be for some time. The physician gave him potent pain medication that knocks ye flat.” He turned to Lizzie, his dark eyes softening a little. “Speaking of medications from this time, it’s of grave importance that ye get back to Bella as soon as ye can.”

  “Of course. Oliver and I will go at once.”

  “Do ye hear that, lass?” Lachlan asked, looking to Catie. “Ye must ready yourself to leave. Say farewell to your new friends. The situation is such that ye canna tarry.”

  “Bollocks,” Catie exploded. “I’m not going back.”

  Lizzie hadn’t thought too highly of Evie racing from the room earlier when Lachlan arrived, but seeing his face change from somewhat intimidating to demonic possession level of rage, made her want to scamper as well. She gripped the bench and stayed put.

  “Indeed ye are. Ye’ve caused quite enough trouble.” His voice was measured, but a vein pulsed in the side of his forehead.

  “I havena caused any trouble,” she denied indignantly.

  “Our brother’s been shot because of ye,” Lachlan shouted.

  Lizzie held up her hand. “Well, now. You can’t really blame Catie for that psychopath who shot Quinn.” That was on her, but she kept quiet about that. She wasn’t scared of Lachlan, but she wasn’t going to be stupid either, and goad a giant berserk Highlander into turning his wrath her way.

  “Thank ye, Miss Burnet,” Catie said, crossing her arms over her chest as if the matter was settled.

  Lachlan’s blazing eyes told a different story. Lizzie wanted to leave but didn’t. For the first time she took a good, hard look at the the two people from the past who stood squaring off. They didn’t look much alike except for the steely determination that shone from their eyes. Quinn had that, too.

  The whole time she’d been stuck in the eighteenth century, she’d thought of everyone as nothing more than walking paragraphs in a history book, told herself they were already dust in the wind. Lew had been her only friend, but she wondered if there might have been others that she dismissed without a chance. She’d almost passed up the chance to be with Quinn, the most wonderful man she’d ever known, because she couldn’t see what was right in front of her.

  Both Lachlan and Pietro had been torn from their times, thrown into situations they might not have survived, except that they reached out to others. They’d accepted help and helped where they could. They’d made real lives for themselves, with real friends and loved ones.

  What had she done in the same situation? She’d shut off her heart and gambled with people’s lives, thinking it was of no consequence since they were all already dead in her own time, the only time she cared about. She’d been the one who was dust, not them.

  Feeling sick with grief and regret, she reached out to Catie to stop her from screaming at her brother. Lizzie determined to meddle one last time, but for the good of others, not selfish purposes.

  “Catie, I’m quite certain Lachlan will listen to you calmly and rationally if you speak in such a manner. Isn’t that right, sir?” She turned to him and blinked her eyes innocently several times, appealing to his old fashioned chivalry, which she was quite sure hadn’t worn off during his time in the present.

  He narrowed his eyes at her, then at Catie, probably suspecting they were in cahoots. But Catie’s jaw was halfway to her chest, she seemed so shocked to have Lizzie on her side.

  Catie tentatively took a step closer to the table, and Lachlan grumbled but sat down.

  “Aye. Speak your thoughts, lass and I’ll listen.”

  Catie turned to Lizzie, eyes wide. Lizzie shrugged. It was up to Catie now.

  “I want to stay,” she said. Her voice still had a tinge of belligerence and she grimaced, but didn’t seem to know how to continue.

  Lachlan sighed. “Ah, as ye’ve said. If ye dinna want to marry the English lad, ye certainly dinna have to, but ye must return.”

  “It’s nothing to do with Oliver,” she said, gripping her skirts. “It isna fair. Ye never told me I had this- this
mission to marry for my inheritance. My whole life I thought I’d work on the farm and never have a single adventure. I was happy enough to hear about yours and Quinn’s whenever ye deigned to visit me.”

  Lachlan frowned and interrupted. “Catie, ye know it was better for ye at Auntie Gwen’s. We came as much as we could get away.”

  “Aye, I know. I dinna begrudge ye for having your adventures. I never wanted my own, until all of a sudden Quinn made me have one.” She turned to Lizzie. “I know ye think ye have something to be sorry for, in concern to me, but ye helped me more than ye know. I was angry about Quinn lying to me and couldna see past it. But now I see what it’s like in this time, I can see how ye tried to give me confidence.”

  “Ye’ve never lacked for confidence, Catie,” Lachlan said, scowling at Lizzie.

  “Ah, that’s true, when I was plain old Catie Ferguson, at Auntie Gwen’s farm, or on our land. But it was different being an heiress in London, and my sole purpose to be married. It was like I was a pork chop being dangled over a pack of wolves.”

  Lachlan laughed impatiently and Lizzie placed her hand on his wrist, her stomach twisting for Catie.

  “It really is rather like that,” she said. “There are some people who would have done anything to secure Catie’s money for their own use, not giving a thought to her happiness.”

  “Well, it just wasna handled correctly,” he said somewhat desperately.

  “Dinna ye dare try to blame Quinn again,” Catie said, her voice rising.

  “It’s easy to do when he—” He rose from the bench and Lizzie quickly jumped in, serious in her new role as referee.

  “Wait, wait, we’re just circling back to an old argument. You were doing so well explaining yourself, Catie.” She motioned for Lachlan to sit back down. “Please let her continue.”

  “What’s to continue? She wants to stay because she fancies the goatherd. And that wee swain willna give her a second glance in a month’s time.”

  A long, low growl rose up from Catie’s throat and she looked around as if for something to throw at Lachlan’s head.