Part 10 (2/2)
”The only way of knowing is to go to the castle, I suppose,” Quinn said.
Lizzie looked at her clothes. ”If we made it, we're going to look pretty out of place. But you're right. I don't see any other way.”
She inspected his bandage, and helped him wrap his kilt as firmly around his arm as she could to keep it still. He seemed to be in a lot less pain than when they left, and any bit of tipsiness he'd displayed earlier was gone.
Lizzie prayed they'd see a car or other dead giveaway when they got within sight distance of the castle, and she spent the time walking trying to think of a cover story for their odd clothing and Quinn's gunshot wound. She went back and forth between praying they'd made it to the right time, and praying to stay out of jail.
Quinn stopped abruptly and she ran into his back, nearly causing Oliver to run into her. Quinn turned around and gave them both a fierce glare and nodded ahead of them and to the left.
Her heart sank at what she saw. A man with dark, curly hair and wearing a kilt with a sword strapped at his side, led a horse along a narrow path.
”We didn't go far enough,” she said.
Everything about the man said eighteenth century, from his boots to the saddle. She could have cried.
Oliver took her arm to pull her behind a tree. ”We'll just try again,” he whispered, tossing a twig at Quinn's back to get him to move out of sight.
Too late. The man turned in their direction and saw them, a welcoming smile lighting up his face. Lizzie was shocked, sure that he would charge at them with his sword raised. Instead, he led the horse toward them, calling out, ”You lot are well lost, aren't you?”
He was English. She turned to Oliver, wondering if she had heard wrong, but Oliver's mouth hung open in surprise at the man's accent. Quinn turned around with raised brows and all she could do was shrug. She didn't know enough about history to know if this land had ever been occupied, but even so, why would an Englishman be wearing a kilt and acting so friendly to strangers? The man stopped in front of them and held out his hand, which Quinn took after only a second's hesitation.
”Archebald Bancroft,” he said, pumping Quinn's hand before offering it to her and Oliver. He furrowed his brow. ”Say, you didn't park in the scenic overlook did you? We've been getting complaints.”
Lizzie opened her mouth, then shut it, her mind further boggled by another man appearing from the path wearing jeans and a flannel s.h.i.+rt, hiking boots and a battered jacket.
”Oi, Archie, I found a trap. You were right about the poachers-”
”I found some new campers,” Archebald called to the man in modern clothes. ”Quite a bit lost, I'd say.” He turned back to them. ”That's Sam. He's not one of us, as you can tell, but he's a good chap.”
Sam made his way around the trees and stopped dead about six feet from them, his eyes narrowing at the sight of Quinn.
”No b.l.o.o.d.y way,” he said in a low voice. His eyes flew over Lizzie and Oliver before settling on Quinn again. ”You're the brother,” he said in an accusatory tone, then clapped his hands and grinned. ”Jesus, you have to be. Quinn? Right?” His seeming delight instantly faded and he gave them hard looks, before nervously turning to Archebald. ”Can you see the resemblance?”
Archebald tilted his head from one side to the next, all while Lizzie had a silent panic attack. Had they done something so terrible to the fabric of time that English and Scottish, eighteenth century and twenty-first, were now a bizarre and unholy amalgamation of one another? And how did that man know Quinn?
”Why, you're right,” Archebald agreed. ”Delighted to meet you. Your brother is a wealth of historical knowledge. We've learned so much from him.”
”Ye know my brother?” Quinn asked.
”Yes, of course,” Sam said. ”Everyone knows Lachlan. He didn't say you were visiting, though.” He spoke in a loud, unnatural voice. ”I'm sure you meant to go up to the castle before you checked out the re-enactor's camp, isn't that right?”
Quinn stared at him stonily so Lizzie jumped in, knowing an improv when she saw it. ”Yes, that's right. We're so lost. You couldn't show us the way, could you?” She turned to Archebald, who continued to smile at them. ”We can't wait to visit the camp, but Quinn hasn't seen his brother in months.”
”Of course, of course,” he said. ”I'll just continue looking for traps, and see you later. Marvelous costumes, by the way. The best I've seen in a while.” He patted the horse and led it away, scanning the ground as he went.
”I can't believe this,” Sam said as soon as Archebald was out of hearing range. ”When did you get here? And how?” He took a phone out of his pocket and Lizzie's breath caught at the sight of the modern gadget. She was home. Well and truly home. ”I can't believe it,” he repeated, tapping out a message. ”You came for Catie, I'm a.s.suming?”
Quinn slumped with relief at hearing her name. ”Ye know my sister as well?”
”Aye, she's staying with me and my fiancee. She, er, got angry at Lachlan and didn't want to stay at the castle.”
Quinn laughed and leaned against the nearest tree, wiping his eyes. ”Ah, that sounds about right. She is well?”
Sam made to clap him on the shoulder, stopping when he noticed the bandage. ”She's fine, mate. But what's this?” He turned to Lizzie and Oliver knowingly. Oliver had sat down as soon as Archebald left, overwhelmed by everything. ”Stabbing?” Sam guessed.
”Gunshot,” Lizzie answered. ”Can you get him help?”
”Gunshot, that's different,” he said. ”We can certainly get some help.” Sam grinned some more and took out his phone again, tapping out a new message. ”Their minds are going to be so blown. Let's go.”
Chapter 12.
Piper spread out her wedding notes, fabric samples, and pictures of flower arrangements on the table and went to slice some pound cake for when Evie arrived for their serious planning session. She frowned at the cake and hid it away, deciding to slice up some apples instead. Baby number two was going to show any minute now, and even with a Regency style wedding dress, the belly was only part of the problem.
While Piper had sadly missed almost all of Evie's pregnancy with Mags, due to being trapped in time travel limbo, she'd heard stories from Sam and Mellie about how Evie's level of craziness amped up considerably the further along she got.
Weddings weren't exactly stress-free things to plan and execute, and she didn't want any hormones making things more difficult than they were sure to already be. All she wanted was for her two best friends to finally be married. They were the most in love people she'd ever known, besides herself and Lachlan, of course.
She looked with distaste at the makes.h.i.+ft wedding central she'd set up. When this one was over, was she really going to want to plan another? She made a mental note to ask Lachlan if he wouldn't mind eloping. He'd probably be delighted. Every time she showed him a cute chandelier or ring-bearer pillow, he seemed appalled at the extravagant lengths people now went to in order to get married.
”Why dinna they just do it in the village church some Sunday?” he asked when she wanted his opinion on some tiny birdcage garlands.
He'd then said the birdcage garlands were daft, and she'd told him to shut up, and hadn't asked him his opinion since. She shook her head, hoping the wedding wasn't going to tear them apart.
She had bigger things to worry about tearing them apart if Daria had actually resurfaced. She sat down and closed her eyes, digging deep into her mind for any whispered voices or out of place thoughts. Nothing.
Evie swung into the kitchen and unloaded her laptop onto the table, shaking Piper out of her useless revery.
”What's up?” Evie asked, looking concerned. She always seemed to know when something was wrong, and continued to worry about Daria.
Piper sighed. ”Nothing.” She would tell Evie about her fears if the nightmares and sleepwalking continued. She couldn't deal with it right now. ”Sam not coming?” she asked, mostly relieved that Sam wouldn't be part of the initial planning. She was fed up with men's opinions when it came to the wedding.
”No, he saw Archie at the gate and they're going to hunt for poachers.”
”Oh, it's poachers now?”
”Always something, right?” Evie asked with a laugh.
She had been in charge of the estate for eight months while Piper and Lachlan went missing in another century and knew well all the problems that could and would arise.
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