Taken by Angeline Fortin (ebook reader with android os TXT) 📕

Burrowing through the contents, she withdrew the pamphlets Donell had given her and shuffled through them until she found it.  Flodden: 500 Years.  “The battle will be fought at Flodden Field, not far from here.” His eyes narrowed and a heavy sigh lifted her shoulders.  “No, I’m not a spy.”

“Then how do ye ken such a thing?  Did Rhys reveal such a detail?” he asked.

“No.  I know it because I read it in this.”  Scarlett flipped through the pages, scanning them quickly.  “Four days from now.  Thousands of men will die.”

“Scarlett, lass.”  He leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees and took her hands in his.  “’Tis war, lass.  Aye, men will die.”

Frustrated, Scarlett shook her head again.  “Look at this, Laird.”  She waved the brochure at him again.  “Your countrymen are going to die for nothing.  Even the king.  You have to stop it.”

“’Tis treason to threaten the life of the king, lass.”

“Let’s not go there again, okay?  I’m not threatening him,” she enunciated clearly.  “I’m telling you flat out that he will die if this battle is fought.”  She pressed the brochure into his hand.  “Look at it.  This is your Kobashi Maru, Laird.”

“My what?” he asked, running his fingers hesitantly over the glossy cover.

“It’s a no-win situation,” she desperately explained.  “I mean, maybe Captain Kirk beat it because he cheated but you don’t have that option.  You cannot win.  You will not.  Read it, Laird.  Don’t believe me if you want but believe that.  Read what it says.  Read the names of your family and friends who will die on that field.  Nearly ten thousand of them.”  Names that had once sounded familiar and now she knew why.  “Your uncles, your cousin.  All of them will die.  And if that sword of yours is any indication…”

Scarlett’s words broke off with the crack of her voice.  How had she not seen it all before?  Why hadn’t she realized the truth?  “You will die, too.”  The words emerged dully as she rocked backwards and she sank numbly down on the ground.

“’Tis nothing but nonsense, lass,” he scoffed.

“It’s true.”  Her voice was barely a hoarse whisper. “It’s all true.  I saw it.  Your sword.  In the museum.”

Scottish claymore, found on the battlefield of Flodden.

Even when she had first seen it, she had realized why it had been in the exhibit.  Because the Scotsman bearing it had fallen in battle.  Because he had died.

Because Laird had died.

“It was found on Flodden Field after the battle.  So either you left it there or…”

Emotion tightened at the back of her throat painfully, making it almost impossible to breathe.  Tears stung at her eyelids as she sat there in stunned silence.  Her heart pounded in hard, slow thumps, knocking against her ribs.  Her stomach twisted sickly.  She could hardly breathe, suffocating under the numbing weight of the truth.

He was going to die.

“’Tis madness ye speak of, lass.  Ye cannae ken such a thing.” He flipped through the brightly colored brochure.  “’Tis words on a page, nothing more.”

“No, it’s history.”

And for the first time in her life, the subject evoked real emotion in her.

35

 

“Lass,” Laird sighed, shaking his head as he left the chair and dropped down on his haunches in front of her, taking her hands in his once more.  “Scarlett.  Look at me, mo chroí.”

Scarlett lifted wide, dazed eyes to his, seeing the cynicism, the disbelief written there.  “If you say one word about female nerves or hysteria, I will hurt you bad,” she warned.  “I know what you’re thinking, Laird.  I’m not mad or hysterical.  It is far simpler,” – and way more unbelievable – “than that.”

“What is it then?”

“When I told you I wasn’t from around here, Laird, I wasn’t joking,” she told him.  “I’m from a place far from here, not in distance but in time.  This isn’t my time.  I came here from five hundred years in the future.  I came here, I think, to warn you. To stop this war because everything I’ve told you is true.  I know what will happen because to me, it’s history.”

After a long moment of silence, his eyes searching hers intently, Laird stood and crossed his arms over his massive chest.  He stared moodily at her for a long while.  “Now I ken ye maun be overwrought to be speaking such nonsense.”

“It isn’t nonsense, Laird.” Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Scarlett hastened to his side and laid a pleading hand on his arm. “I think somewhere deep down you know it.  You’re thinking that it actually makes sense.  You’ve never met anyone like me.  Anyone who talks like me, acts like me, right?  It makes sense now why I wouldn’t know how to ride a horse or eat with a knife or dance your dances.”

“Nay, lass.  None of this makes any sense a’tall.”  Brushing her hand away, Laird strode toward the open flap.  Fighting back a flight of panic, Scarlett knew she had to stop him.  She had to make him listen and believe.  Not for her sake but for his and for everyone he knew.

Turning back to the bed, she upended her purse spilling the contents out on to the mattress.  Her phone, wallet, passport, mints, pens… her gun.  “Look at this, Laird!  See the proof for yourself.  Any of it will show you that I’m telling the truth.”

But he wasn’t listening. Instead he was walking away.

She couldn’t let that happen!

An earsplitting explosion echoed off the tent walls and through his head, dragging his feet to a halt.  James spun around to find Scarlett standing at the foot of his bed with one arm raised and pointing at the ceiling.  Above her, a ragged hole pierced the roof of the tent, spearing a thin shaft of sunlight down upon her.  “What the bluidy hell was that?” he yelled above the ringing in his ears.

“That is a hole in your ceiling,” Scarlett said calmly.  “This is a called a Smith &Wesson Bodyguard .380 or in