A Laird to Hold by Angeline Fortin (best feel good books .txt) 📗

thought, telling her he knew it too. As always, though, he was sure to provide the answer.

“Hopefully we’ll be gone by then.”

“We cannae be assured of a positive outcome,” Laird countered. “Nor will it ease the continued threat to Hugh. We need a plan to guarantee he will cause nae other problems. Ever.”

That sounded decidedly final to Scarlett, and not at all the sort of solution she’d been hoping for. Of course, Laird had never been one to back down from a problem. He may have killed for King and country in battle, but he was no murderer and she told him so.

His expression only hardened enough to send a shiver through Scarlett. “I will do what I maun do to protect ye and my wee lassies. And my grandson, for that matter.”

Around the room, to the last, they all heard the promise in those words. Not one of them could doubt he’d meant it.

Emmy

Bandages and quick fixes.

Following Laird’s dire vow—a solution Emmy was a hundred percent behind if that’s what it took to save lives—the apprehensive grip on the tightly banded group had loosened. Laird had Scarlett wrapped in his arms, whispering something… assurances maybe, in her ear.

Assurances that he was ready and willing to kill for them all? To Emmy’s mind, it was the most solid proposal as yet.

Though no one else had outwardly agreed.

Connor, Rhys, and Hugh were pouring themselves glasses of whiskey as if liquor solved everything. Hermione had woken from her nap and was sitting in Claire’s lap flipping through a book.

All of them waiting to hear from Scarlett’s agent whether Jameson had been taken into custody and was out of their hair.

But it was only a temporary fix. A Band-Aid.

In Emmy’s experience, they never worked well or lasted long. To her mind, they needed to evaluate the cause, not the effect. That meant figuring out how this agent had leapt to the conclusion that the men, or even she, had come to this time from another.

It didn’t occur to her to think Connor was wrong in his logic. He was a passionate man, decisive and quick to act, but never rashly. She’d seen the wheels turning in his head while Claire recounted her confrontation with the NSA agent. Plying logic to what she said and extrapolating the only possible conclusion.

No, Emmy trusted her husband’s instincts and agreed Jameson somehow knew most or all of the truth. The real question was why a man as brilliant as Hugh did not agree.

She moved to join the group of men, accepting Rhys’s offer of a drink gratefully. Taking a sip and allowing herself a moment to appreciate the burn of alcohol, Emmy looked up at Hugh. “I’m wondering something.”

“Aye?”

“How can you be so sure this Agent Jameson doesn’t know the others are time travelers like you?”

“Jameson was the NSA liaison to Dr. Fielding at Mark-Davis. They developed the machine as a weapon for the NSA for whatever nefarious purposes they wanted to use it for,” he told them. “Spying, assassination… The files Sorcha’s brother found for us was filled wi’ enough information to blackmail them into leaving me be.”

“How’s that working out for you?” she retorted, then waved the question away. “Obviously, this guy doesn’t care about unofficial investigations any longer, but you didn’t answer my question. How are you so sure Jameson doesn’t think the others came here the same way as you?”

“I’m certain, because the time machine I came through has been destroyed,” Hugh admitted and shrugged as if it were no big deal. The gasps around the room as the others overheard him said differently.

Even Claire gaped at him. “What? How can you know that?”

“Donell told me,” Hugh confessed. Drink in hand, he took a seat on the sofa as they crowded around him. “He was trying to assure me there wouldn’t be another to suffer like me.”

“And you didn’t tell us?” Scarlett stared at him in disbelief as she pulled away from Laird. “Didn’t make sure he stuck around so we could get home? I could use some assurance on the matter given everything that’s going on.”

Hugh smiled softly in her direction. “As long as I’m here, ye get home.”

Laird looked at him doubtfully. “How can ye be certain?”

“Because of the grandfather paradox.” They all looked at Rhys who had been silently listening to this point. “I may hae done some light reading on the subject of time travel of late. I came across a book at the bookseller. It’s a part of the dynamic timeline. Altering events of the past has a definite impact on the future. Hugh wouldnae be here if ye dinnae make it back. Safely, I might add.”

“Precisely,” Hugh agreed with a nod of respect to Rhys. “As long as I’m here wi’ ye, ‘tis proof enough to ken ye make it back to yer own times.”

“At least Scarlett and Laird do,” Connor pointed out. “Yer being here has naught to do wi’ Emmy and me going back.”

“I think that’s something we can worry about later,” Emmy cut in. This whole who knew what was becoming so circular it was difficult to be sure of anything. She flashed her husband an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m troubled about it, too, but isn’t the bigger concern how Agent Jameson could possibly know about us? Especially if he knows it wasn’t his toy that brought you here? He had nothing to do with us coming here. Not like he did Hugh.”

“Now that’s no’ entirely true, lass.”

They all turned to find Donell standing near the window.

“I would love to know how you do that,” Emmy told him as Connor came to her side.

“Are ye saying Jameson did hae a hand in bringing us here?” Connor