A Time & Place for Every Laird by Angeline Fortin (ebook reader TXT) 📕

with gold surfaces printed with words Hugh didn’ttake the time to read except to make out a name. Captain MatthewManning.

Her husband. Where was he now? What would hethink of his wife bringing a stranger into his home?

“Here.” Hugh turned to find Sorcha holding asteaming mug out to him.

“What is it?”

“If we’re going to do this, you’ll have tolearn to trust me.”

Hugh took a step forward to take the cup,noting that Sorcha stepped away as she extended it even farther.Did she fear him? It was difficult to tell. He had frightened herat the lab, that much was certain, but their recent exchangesindicated that she was a bold and courageous lass. There were notmany women who would dare argue with him when he was angry, and headmired her pluck. Hugh only hoped it would not fail her now. Heneeded her assistance. At least for the time being. If she became awilting lily, Sorcha would be of no use to him. Watching her, Hughtook a sip from the mug. It was coffee. Not the strongest he’d evertasted, but it was welcome, nonetheless.

Sorcha sat down once again and leaned towardhim with her elbows on her knees, cradling her own cup between herhands. “We need to talk.”

Hugh didn’t argue. He needed answers aswell. All he knew at this point was that she could not send himhome again. That, as far as she knew, no one could. He knew nothingelse, nothing at all. He didn’t even know where he was. “Aye, wedo. Tell me, what is this world I am doomed tae inhabit? I ken thatI am nae dead, so this cannae truly be hell.”

However, Sorcha merely shook her head at hisquestion, much to his annoyance. “Why don’t you tell me how you gothere first? Then maybe I can figure it out.”

Hugh’s hand fisted as hegritted his teeth, and her eyes widened in trepidation. Forcinghimself to relax, to accept that the answers would come, Hugh told her, “I wasfighting wi’ my clansmen against the Sassenach in a battle that wasthe gravest of mistakes.” He sighed and sat as well as he recalledwhere he had been weeks before. The blood. The battle. “BonnyPrince Charlie and his attempt tae retake Scotland an’ England forhis own. He called on the Hielanders tae aid him, and my unclecalled me home tae support him. Though I dinnae necessarily supportthe prince, I fought for my laird and my clan. Prince Charlescalled for an attack on the Sassenach though our troops wereexhausted from travel and fighting. We had already seen manybattles from York tae Inverness. No one wanted the fight, ye ken?Even the French envoy begged the Prince on his knees not taecontinue. But the Prince was determined. He wouldnae even wi’drawtae Inverness or take the higher ground at the river Nairn. ’Twasover almost before it was begun.”

“Where was this battle?”

“On the Drummoisse Muir outside Culloden,”he told her. “It dinnae last long but ’twas the bloodiest battleI’d ever seen. We were called to retreat but I was in the heat ofbattle, in pursuit of my enemy. I was running after him when theground opened up before us, swallowing us whole.”

“Culloden? The Battle ofCulloden?” Claire asked, trying to place the vaguely familiar termin history. It sounded like something from Braveheart, and Hugh lookeddecidedly like the Scots portrayed in the movie, so it must havebeen in the Middle Ages somewhere, right? Shaking her head at herown ignorance, Claire thought about firing up her laptop andGoogling for information.

“Ye’ve a name for it?”

“Yes,” Claire said with a nod. “What yearwas that?”

“The year of our Lord seventeen hundred andforty-six,” he answered. “So, yer turn, lass. Where am I now?”

Claire met his bright blue eyes. There wasas much dread in them for her answer as she felt at being the oneto deliver the bad news, which was why she had been delaying themoment as long as she could even though she knew that herreluctance vexed him. “You are in the year two thousand andthirteen.”

Hugh knew he was staring at Sorcha dumblybut he could not form any reasonable thought or response to herrevelation. He had known he was in a different world. Whateverwitchcraft had torn him from his home had transported him faraway—he had known that. But, even with all the strange things hehad seen, for some reason he had considered only distance. He hadnever considered time until she had asked him the year.

Two thousand and thirteen. More than 250years into his future. He couldn’t release the notion from hismind, and for several minutes he stood immobile, struggling withthe knowledge and its implications. His family and his clan wereall long gone. Nothing but dust in the sands of time. He feltnumbed by the realization that he was alone. Alone in an alien landwith no one but this single lass as his ally. “Am I even inScotland?” he thought to ask.

“No,” she told him with evidentsympathy.

Reluctantly, his lips formed the question hewas oddly the most afraid to ask. “Does it still exist?”

“Yes,” she answered, then as if she couldread his relief went on to reassure him, “Yes, yes, oh God, yes!I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”

Hugh felt the feeling return to his limbs.If nothing else, his homeland still existed. Rosebraugh, his home,was still out there somewhere. Perhaps, if he could find that thensome sense might return to his existence. “Then I should like taegae there,” he said. “If I cannae hae my family and my life, I canat least have my homeland. Take me there.”

“I can’t just take you there, Hugh,” shesighed. She crossed the room and waved him over to a large globe inthe corner. “Never thought I’d use this tacky thing for anythinguseful,” she muttered. It looked like other globes Hugh had seenbefore until Sorcha lifted the northern hemisphere, pointing to theglasses and bottles inside. “Matt’s mother got this for us. Classy,huh? Finally, I can get some use out of it.”

She bent over and pointed at the side,motioning to him to join her. “Humor me. This thing doesn’t rotate.This is England and there’s Scotland.” She pointed out the