Page 59 of Desire of a Highlander

“Isnae it?” The challenge in his voice made her flinch. “Ever since ye arrived here, ye’ve dodged every question.”

“I haven’t dodged anything.”

“Aye? Then why dinna ye tell me right now who ye really are, Elodie MacNeil? Where did ye come from? Why were ye on that hillside? What are ye running from?”

She backed away another step. “I hit my head, remember. My memory—”

“I believed that to start with,” he said. “I dinna believe it anymore. So if ye want the truth about me, how about ye tell me the truth about ye first?”

She tried to speak but nothing came out. How could she explain? How could she tell him she came from a future he couldn’t even imagine?

The silence stretched between them and Ronan’s expression slowly hardened.

“That’s what I thought.”

Before she could speak, he whistled sharply, bringing Bran and Skye bounding towards him. Then he marched away, disappearing into the shadows between the trees.

Elodie watched him go, feeling like her heart was breaking.

RONAN STALKED THROUGH the woods with only the dogs and the silence to keep him company.

The forest was damp from the recent rain. Moss coated fallen trunks and droplets clung to every branch. Somewhere overhead a bird called. Ronan noticed none of it. He was trying not to think. Trying not to remember.

Yet all he could hear was the pistol shot.

The crack echoed through his mind and he saw David falling. The look of shock on the young man’s face as he fell.

He stopped abruptly. His breath caught and for an instant the woods disappeared. He was back there again, on the moor. Smoke hung in the air. Men were shouting. David was being thrown backwards, blood exploding from his shoulder as the musket ball tore through his flesh...

Ronan bent over, bracing his hands on his knees then looked down at his palms. He half expected to see them coated with blood. His stomach twisted as he remembered reaching for his own pistols. Remembered the terrible cold clarity that had settled over him as his hesitation vanished and the world narrowed. He remembered taking aim. Pulling the trigger. Firing the first pistol. Then the second. Dropping them to the ground once they were spent and pulling his sword instead.

Murdoch’s men had looked as surprised as David as he’d dispatched them with brutal efficiency. It had been over in minutes. Those men, breathing, talking, living one minute. Snuffed out like a candle flame in the next.

He squeezed his eyes shut against the memories, against the dark, pulsing shame that washed through him

This isn’t who I am, he told himself desperately. I’m not that man.

But a darker, more insidious voice answered him. It’s exactly who you are. Just ask Bryce. Or have you forgotten what you did?

He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes as though to keep the memories from forming. No. No. No. But they came anyway.

Once again, he was eighteen years old, facing his oldest brother with rage boiling through his veins. Once again he saw his brother’s arrogant expression as he pronounced their father’s will invalid, pronounced that he was taking everything. Once again he felt that blind, white-hot fury. Once again he felt himself lose control, felt the rage take hold of him. Once again he saw himself draw his dagger, throw himself at Bryce. He saw his brother’s eyes widen in shock. Felt the soft pressure as his dagger punched into his brother’s stomach. Felt the hot wash of blood over his hands. Felt the horror as he realized what he’d done.

Oh God. Oh God. No more. Please.

But the memories weren’t done with him. Faye’s face flashed in his mind. He heard her voice saying, Ye have a past that could save us all. Will someone have to be seriously hurt before ye act?

And then David falling, blood exploding, Sarah screaming.

No. No. No.

Bran whined suddenly and put a paw on his knee, snapping Ronan back to the present. Around him, the woods were quiet and still. Yet Ronan’s heart was pounding as if he’d been running and a soft sheen of sweat coated his forehead.

“I’m fine,” he told the big sleuthhound.

The lie sounded hollow, even to his own ears, and the dogs weren’t convinced. Skye nudged his hand with her nose and then licked his fingers. Ronan breathed deeply for several moments. Finally, he straightened and carried on walking.

He’d maybe gone a hundred paces before Bran barked in warning and Ronan saw Eamon hurrying towards him through the trees.