Page 62 of Highlander’s Bride

Down in the underground room, he was amazed to see that Bryanna had managed to finish the job and the rock was cleared.

James looked at Bryanna with worry. “Time is of the essence. She must be in a diabetic shock.”

Raghnall nodded and crouched with her in his arms next to the rock. David sank to his knees by Raghnall’s side.

“Listen to me, when you go through there, you’ll be in a museum. Ask for help. Ask for museum workers and tell them they must call an ambulance right away because this woman is in a diabetic shock and is dying. Got it?”

Raghnall blinked, the words mixing like a porridge.

“Repeat what you need to do,” said David.

“Um…” Raghnall blinked. “Museum. Find workers. Tell…call ambu…”

“Ambulance. Doctors. A healer.”

“Ambulance,” Raghnall repeated.

“What are you waiting for, go!” cried Rogene. “Put your hand in there.”

Raghnall’s jaw muscles worked as he looked around at his family, perhaps for the last time in his life. He met Catrìona’s eyes. “Please, take care of Seoc,” he said. “I’m such a shite for leaving him—again.”

Catrìona nodded solemnly, and squeezed James’s hand. “Dinna even worry, brother. no one is going to let Seoc be sad or lonely for a moment. Go. Save her.”

His heart cracked open, and he felt like one half of it fell off and rolled on the floor, but he didn’t allow himself to think anymore. His stomach flipped like he was about to jump into a dark abyss.

Cradling Bryanna’s limp body to him, he leaned forward and put his hand into the handprint.

Distantly, he noted the carvings glowed. It felt like he didn’t touch the stone, but as though his hand went through empty, cool air, and then there was no rock at all, and he was falling and falling into darkness. He held on to Bryanna, but after some time he couldn’t feel her anymore.

He couldn’t even feel himself.

And then darkness took him.

Chapter 30

Raghnall was cold and his whole body ached. Rising up on his elbows, he struggled to remember where he was and what had happened. Rough stone walls and a vaulted ceiling were illuminated by a single source of light that hung suspended by a black rope. Was it some sort of an oil lamp? But it couldn’t be fire as the light didn’t move, didn’t blink, and didn’t dance.

Then the next thought came.

Bryanna…

Her name was like the air he needed to breathe, her presence as necessary as the blood in his veins.

He looked around and his gaze fell on the unmoving body lying next to the rock with the handprint and the ancient carving. And suddenly the memories of what had happened and what he had to do came back.

She was dying. He had somehow fallen through that rock and traveled through time. It must have worked because the rock was the same but there was no rubble.

He scrambled to his feet, aware of numerous sources of pain in different parts of his body—the bruises, cuts, and wounds from the battle of Eilean Donan. He still had his sword and was still dressed in his leine croich, though it was cut and torn and caked with drying blood.

“Bryanna, I have ye, lass,” he whispered as he leaned over her and cupped her face with one hand and found the vein in her neck with the finger of the other hand. There was no pulse. There was no movement, no sign of life he could find under his fingertips.

“Nae!” he cried, dropping his head to her chest…but he couldn’t hear her heart. “Nae!”

Fear rushed over him like an avalanche of icy rocks, crushing his very soul, tearing his heart into a bloody pulp. He lifted her into his arms and ran.

He couldn’t be the reason for her death. He couldn’t be that man from her vision.

He couldn’t lose the woman he loved.