Christmas Knight by Christina Skye

Author:Christina Skye [Skye, Christina]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Knights and Knighthood, Scotland, Contemporary, General, Romance, Historical, Fiction, Time Travel
ISBN: 9780380800223
Google: WwkrXs2hcAAC
Amazon: 0380800225
Publisher: Avon Books
Published: 1998-01-02T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 19

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Sky and loch had blurred into black as Hope took her place at the top of the stairwell, clad head to toe in her luminous costume.

Outside, snow drifted down and wind played through the glen. Then an engine backfired and Gabrielle poked her head excitedly from the kitchen.

"They're coming! Dieu , there must be twenty of them. Young and old. Big and small. In a bus, they come." Gabrielle seized Hope's hand and dragged her toward the back stairway. "Come, you must hurry. Vite, vite. "

Hope rolled her eyes, feeling more dishonest by the second. "How do you say 'boo' in German?"

"Forget this boo. You will keep to the plan that Jeffrey has given," Gabrielle said sternly.

"Fine, fine, let's just get it over with." Hope suddenly frowned. "Where is Banquo, by the way? If he charges through the room and knocks down all the wiring, we're sunk."

"Already taken care of," Gabrielle said smugly. "I put him in his cage for the night."

"Has everyone else gone?"

"Every last graying head. Though I wish one younger man were not gone," Gabrielle murmured.

Hope pretended she had not heard.

The lights flickered, then went out, as prearranged.

Hope slid her hood into place as ghostly light rippled off her full-length skirt. Thunder boomed down the staircase, her signal to appear.

She prayed that she wouldn't catch her foot again, topple down the stairs, and break her neck.

Cold wind rushed past her face. Hope turned, sensing a presence nearby. "Banquo?" she whispered. "Is that you?"

When the silence held, she shrugged. Nerves, she told herself.

Another peal of thunder cascaded through the hall.

The German tourists stood in a huddle by the door, staring upward. Suddenly Hope felt the drama of the moment. If they wanted a ghost, then she would give them one.

McLeod ran, ignoring the branches that slapped at his arms and chest. A warning beat in his heart as he shot across the field, passed the loch's stony edge, and plunged through the black orchard.

No owl cried to greet him.

No fox barked from the cliffs.

The earth itself seemed to mock him, hindering his progress and catching at his feet. And as MacLeod ran, his fear grew apace.

Give her one month, MacLeod of the Isles. Keep her safe until the moon waxes and wanes one cycle.

No time to make sense of their odd speech. No time to understand what magic they had worked to bring him here.

Only Hope mattered.

Glenbrae House was before him when he made out the prints of running feet. From the woods they came, flying along the stone fence toward the south wall of the house. MacLeod tossed the canvas sack over his back and fell to one knee.

The prints stopped abruptly in the middle of a dark tangle of holly vines, as if the runner had vanished into air.

Frowning, he scanned the lawn and the stable beyond.

When he looked up, fear roiled into fury.

High above, a window lay open, its long lace curtains flapping in the wind. MacLeod drew back, just able to make out a black shape vanishing over the sill.

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