“Death.”

“Death in general or of someone in particular?”

Ian looked at him from the corner of his eye. “My own. Thinking about one’s mortality is an everyday event at my age.”

“I imagine it is.”

“I don’t want to die here, Robbie.”

“I don’t think you have a choice, Uncle. None of us does.”

The old man stopped and canted his head. “It’s not death I’m thinking to avoid but the place. I’ve a wish to see my children before I die. And I’m needing to wrap my arms around my wife and bury my face in her bosom. I miss the smell of the village fires, the heather in the fields, and the clanking swords of sparring warriors. I want to go home, Robbie,” he whispered. “And I want ya to take me.”

“I can’t do that, Uncle.”

“Aye, ya can,” he softly contradicted. “Ya was given the task of watching over Daar for us, not because you’re the eldest but because you’re our guardian. And I’m thinking ya have the ability to grant my request.”

“Have you spoken with Grey about your wanting to go back?” Robbie asked, neither affirming nor denying Ian’s claim.

“Nay. Only you.”

“What about Kate? The two of you have been companions for over twenty years now.

Are you willing to leave her?”

“It was Kate who gave me the courage to finally ask ya,” Ian said with a nod. “She’s always known my heart belongs to my wife, and she’s been after me for some time now to find a way to get back to Gwyneth. We’ve had a good friendship, and I care a great deal for Kate,” he added. “She’ll not only understand, she’ll be happy for me.”

“And the rest of us?”

“You will be happy for me, too. Grey and Morgan and Callum and your papa have wives and children and grandbabies now. Their home is here, and mine is back there.

That’s why Kate kept encouraging me to go speak with Daar.” Ian laid his hand on Robbie’s arm. “But I’d rather bring my matter to ya. It’s you I trust.”

Robbie led Ian to the edge of the road, and they both sat down on a fallen log. “But the journey itself could kill you, Uncle. Surely you remember how violent it was thirty-five years ago.”

Ian’s face paled. “You’ve been,” he whispered. “You’ve already traveled back, haven’t ya?”

Robbie said nothing.

“It was three nights ago, wasn’t it?” Ian speculated, taking hold of Robbie’s arm again. “I heard the thunder and felt the entire mountain shake. And the next morning, I heard it again.”

He pointed at Robbie’s waist. “That gash on your side. It was made by a sword, I would bet. Ya went back and nearly got yourself killed.”

“What makes you say that?”

“The little lass, Nora. She told me they found ya lying in the woods, and that they thought ya was dead. She said her mother used thread from her kit to sew up a cut in your side.” He pointed at Robbie’s face. “Ya didn’t get that bruise on your cheek from bumping into a door, and ya didn’t go to Libby so she could heal ya, because she would realize how ya got hurt.”

Robbie sighed and stared across the road at nothing. “They mustn’t find out,” he finally said, looking back at Ian. “Grey and Callum and Morgan and my father—they can’t know about this. Did Grey hear the storm?”

“Nay,” Ian said, shaking his head. “He and Grace are down visiting Elizabeth at college.

And the others live too far away to have heard it.”

Robbie nodded. “Then please don’t tell them.”

“What are you and that crazy priest up to?”

“It’s… complicated. I went back to try to get a new book of spells for Daar.”

“What?Ya know how dangerous it will be for us if that old fool gets his hands on the spells.”

“But if he doesn’t,” Robbie quietly explained, “then your wish will be granted on this summer’s solstice. But you won’t be going back alone.”

Ian went utterly still, his face turning pale again around his widened hazel eyes. “All of us?” he whispered.

“Aye,” Robbie gently returned. “In three months, if Daar can’t extend the original spell that brought you here, all five of you will go back.”

Ian looked away, saying nothing.

“I won’t let it happen, Uncle.”

Ian looked back at him. “I can help,” he said, squaring his age-stooped shoulders. “I’m old, but I ain’t dead yet. I can’t wield a sword anymore, but I know that time, the people, and the land. I can help,” he repeated with a growl, grabbing Robbie’s arm again. “Take me back with ya.”

Robbie gently pulled Ian’s hand free and held it in his. “I saw Gwyneth,” he quietly told him. “When I went back, it was ten years after you had left. She never remarried and lives with your daughter, Caitlin.” He smiled. “Caitlin is married to a fine warrior, and she has three bairns.”

A huge grin spread through Ian’s beard, and he squeezed Robbie’s hand. “How did my Gwyneth look?”

“Beautiful,” Robbie whispered. “And very busy spoiling your grandbabies.”

“Did ya actually speak to her?”

“Aye. I told her I was a distant relative, and had been away for several years, when she wondered why she didn’t know me. She fed me and spoke of her husband, asking if I remembered Ian MacKeage.”

“What did ya say?”

“I said I remembered a giant, ill-tempered, wild-eyed warrior who scared little children when he walked by.”

Ian snorted and pulled away, clasped his hands together, and looked up at Robbie with eyes far more shining than wild. “And Niall?” he asked. “Did you see my son?”

“He’s Laird Niall now.”

“No!” Ian grabbed his chest. “But how can that be?”

Robbie shrugged. “He was elected, I gather, a few months after Greylen disappeared.

You’re all legends, Uncle. Grey and Morgan and Callum and you, you’ve all become the talk of the campfire.”

“And Megan and James? How are they?”

“Megan married a Maclerie warrior and has five bairns, Gwyneth told me.” He took hold of Ian’s hand. “And James died three years after you left, in a hunting accident. I’m sorry, Uncle.”

“It was hard times back then,” Ian said, turning away and swiping at his eyes. “The cost of mistakes was high.” He turned back to Robbie, his sad eyes looking worried. “What would happen if I suddenly showed up? How would I explain where I’ve been?”

“With the boldest lie we can think of,” Robbie suggested. He stood up and helped Ian off the log. “Not that I’m saying youcan go back. I need to think about the ramifications,”

he explained as they started walking again.

“What ramifications?”

“We would have to come up with a good lie for this time as well. Men can’t just disappear. People would investigate.”

“You only have to say that I returned to Scotland. Ya don’t have to mention whattime I returned to.”

“Aye. That would work. But there’s still the storm and your age to consider.” He stopped and turned to him. “There’s a good chance you might not survive.”

“Then I die trying.” Ian gathered the front of Robbie’s jacket in his fists. “Give me the dignity to go down fighting, Robbie. Give me the gift of seeing my wife again.”

Robbie covered Ian’s hands with his own. “I understand your want,” he told him, pleased by the spark in Ian’s eyes. “But it’s not really my decision to make. It’s ultimately yours.” Robbie took a shuddering, painful breath. “And if you truly wish to go home, then I will be honored to help you get there.”

He leaned over and kissed Ian on his bearded cheek, then wrapped his arms around him in a gentle hug. “In one week, Uncle, I’ll take you back,” he whispered near his ear, closing his eyes against the sting of his imminent loss. “Spend these next days making peace with all who love you. But remember, you can’t tell them you’re going. They mustn’t know what I’m doing, for their own sakes.”

Ian hugged him back and stepped away with a firm nod of agreement, then turned, brushing at his face as he started for home again.

Robbie silently fell into step beside him.

Aye. Every warrior deserved to die trying. And with a boon from providence, Ian would again bury his face in his wife’s bosom before that happened.