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  Willie held out a loaf of bread and flask of whisky to him and his stomach growled in response. “You shouldn’t be here. Does Mam know that you’ve gone?” he asked, though his tone had softened.

  Willie smiled mischievously. “I told her I had to use the privy and then I snuck down to bring you some food.”

  At the sound of the word ‘privy’ Aiden’s head snapped up. His face froze in horror as the realization sank in that the Spaniard had never come back. “Holy mother of God,” he whispered. Willie looked at him in confusion and fear. Aiden took a dagger from his belt and pressed it into the boy’s hands. “Take my dirk and guard the door. If anyone comes, remember how I showed you. One stroke with all your strength, under the breastbone and push up.”

  He mimicked the motion on his own chest, pointing out exactly where the knife should penetrate. Mustering all his courage, Willie drew himself up tall and nodded. Aiden hugged the boy tightly, then pulled away and held him by the shoulders. “You’ll do fine. I love you, lad.” Then he turned and bolted up the stairs. He ran full bore, scanning the grounds and water in search for the Spaniard.

  Acrid smoke filled the sky and the walls of the castle were badly damaged from the battle. Three English warships were in plain view; the sound of their belching cannons was deafening. He spotted Delgado streaking across the other side of the loch. It was too late to stop the traitor. He cried out in anguish and fell to his knees in shame. The Spaniard would tell the English of the hundreds of barrels of gunpowder and shot stored within the castle, a fact that he himself had made known in his boasting.

  A soldier from the closest ship spied him and fired a musket. The ball struck Aiden in the left shoulder and knocked him backward. I watched in horror, unable to do anything to help. Blood began flowing freely from the wound and he scrambled to the stables for cover. Within minutes, a longboat carrying six Englishmen was launched, covered by heavy cannon fire.

  Aiden ran down low and took cover behind a boulder near the water’s edge. He waited until the boat had drawn close to the shore and fired his pistol. One man went down and the rest turned to see where the shot had come from. Aiden ducked behind the rock and waited as the shots from the boat whizzed past him on either side. Realization crossed his features and he breathed in horror, “Willie. Oh, blessed Jesus.”

  The longboat landed on the shore with a thud and the men splashed into the water to pull it onto land. Aiden dropped his empty pistol and came streaking out from behind the rock, screaming a war cry with his sword held high in the air. He swung the heavy sword across the neck of the first soldier coming toward him. Blood spurted in a stream as his head flew away from his body. Bile rose in my throat and I stifled a scream.

  Two other men converged on him, wielding bayonets as they scrambled onto the shore. He ran his sword through the guts of one soldier and spun around to face the next. The Englishman thrust his bayonet through Aiden’s upper thigh. His face clenched with pain as he sliced the man through the chest with his massive sword. The soldier made a sickening gurgling sound as he fell dead.

  Two of the redcoats remained near the boat and one took aim, but his musket misfired. He swore and instead swung it with both hands and cracked Aiden in the skull with the butt of the gun. He crumbled in a bloody heap on the ground.

  The soldier drew his sword to strike the killing blow, but the officer swore at him impatiently. “Leave him! He’ll either die where he lies or we’ll circle back to hang him later. Move out!” The soldier spat at Aiden, then broke into a run behind the officer, disappearing into the castle.

  Tears streamed down my face as I imagined the scene inside with Willie bravely guarding the door against the two Englishmen. He was only a boy and I knew he had no chance of survival. The waiting was gut wrenching and I breathed out a mournful sigh when I saw the English officer running full-tilt away from the castle. He was alone and I realized with a surge of pride that Willie must have been successful in carrying out his brother’s instructions with the dirk he’d been given.

  The vibrations of the Englishman’s footsteps as he passed stirred Aiden into consciousness and he moaned, trying to sit up. The officer jumped into the boat and bent down to pick up the oars. Aiden took a small knife from his sock and flung it with all his might at the man. The blade stuck cleanly into the base of the man’s skull and he fell forward into the boat with a thud. Aiden collapsed with the effort. With an ear-splitting roar, the barrels of gunpowder caught fire and the castle exploded around us. Aiden’s limp body was blown across the grounds and against the rock where he’d been hiding before.

  He reached out, grasping blindly and finally closed his hand around the pistol he’d left there earlier. He loaded the pistol with his eyes closed and cocked back the hammer.

  To my horror, he pointed it at his head and pulled the trigger.

  I shrieked and covered my mouth with my hand. I turned to Aiden standing next to me to see his eyes filled with pain, searching mine for forgiveness and understanding.

  “Oh my God, Aiden.” I wrapped my arms tight around him and held him so close I could hardly breathe. His stiff body relaxed in my arms and then shook as he quietly sobbed, his head on my shoulder. I kissed his temple and whispered words of comfort, wishing I could hold him tight enough to somehow make it right.

  Slowly, our breathing fell into synch, our chests rising and falling together. Strength from my body flowed into him, then returned to me. The air caressed us, binding us together. When I opened my eyes, we were standing in the clearing where we’d had our picnic. He took a deep breath and straightened, then pulled away and wiped his face with his palm. I stayed close by his side, holding one hand, unwilling to let go.

  His voice trembled as he continued his story. “And then an angel stood before me, blazing white and gold, with eyes like flames and a sword made of fire. I fell down on my face, shaking with fear at the sight of him. His voice was the sound of a raging thunderstorm and it filled my head so as it would explode. He said ‘Aiden Alexander MacKenzie MacRae, God is not pleased with what you have done. But do not be afraid, for you have found favor with the Almighty One. You will not enter heaven now but instead, you will transport God’s chosen ones to join Him there.’ And that’s what I’ve been doing every day since.”

  “For three hundred years,” I breathed.

  He raised his eyebrows, and then made a grunting noise in his throat. His eyes locked onto mine with brutal honesty. “I am so ashamed of what I’ve done that I can never forgive myself. My family was killed and my home was destroyed because of my pride. I knew it wouldn’t be long before the English found me and I’d be hanged as a rebel. I didn’t want anyone to know it was my fault. I was a fool and a coward.”

  He dropped his gaze to the ground and his shoulders slumped in defeat.

  “No!” Shock and defensiveness sprang up in me at his words. I grabbed him by the shoulders and forced him to look at me. “Aiden MacRae, you are neither a fool nor a coward. You were shot in the shoulder and stabbed through the leg, and you still killed five men by yourself, for crying out loud!”

  All my pent-up emotion took over and I pounded his chest with my fists as if to beat my words into him. He didn’t flinch.

  “That damn Spaniard was the coward, not you. He was the one who betrayed your family, not you. You gave everything you had to try and save them. You’re a freakin’ hero! Do you hear me, dammit? You are NOT a coward!” He gently pulled my arms down so I couldn’t hit him anymore.

  “Thank you.” His voice was solemn and quiet.

  As quickly as it had come, my anger dissipated at his words and I let out a deep breath. A smile played across his lips as he watched me deflate from my puffed up state.

  “You’re fair beautiful when you’re angry.”

  His statement caught me off guard.

  “Shut up!” I punched him on the arm and he winced playfully. But then he shook his head and grinned, gathering me into his arms. I struggled for a second, but quickly
relaxed in his embrace.

  “I didn’t say it was a bad thing. I like it when you’re angry. You’re like a mother cat protecting her litter.” He squinted and made a hissing sound, his hand curled like a cat’s claw. I smacked him again out of principle.

  “Stop it, you.” I gave him my best glare, but I couldn't hold it and finally let loose a giggle. He bent his face to mine and lifted my chin with a curled finger. I pressed myself into him and pulled him close. His hands caressed my neck up and down as we kissed. Melting into him, I couldn’t tell where I left off and he began.

  Thank you, my sweet.

  The words formed inside my head and I heard them in his voice, yet I was certain he had not said them aloud. I gazed up at him in surprise, the unasked question on my face.

  Eyes filled with a mixture of relief and adoration, he smiled down at me like he’d finally trusted his best friend to keep his deepest secret. I shook my head in confusion and started to say something but he put a finger to my lips.

  “I asked the angel if I would ever see heaven. He said, ‘There is one whose love will redeem you.’ I asked him how I’d know that one, and he said, ‘You will know.’ And I do.”

  I felt as if my heart would burst, entranced by his gaze. Air was not moving in my chest, and I uttered weakly, “How do you know I am that one?”

  His brows drew together in a slightly pained expression and he took a deep breath, closing his eyes. “When I showed you my death, my shame. And you held me. I heard your sweet voice in my head. You said everything would be fine, that you were here now and that you’d never leave me.”

  I froze, remembering that I’d willed those very words to him in my mind. And he’d heard them, in his head, the way I’d heard him just now in mine. I was suddenly reminded of exactly what I’d wanted to do with him on the picnic blanket. I jerked back from him, my cheeks aflame.

  “You don’t hear all my thoughts, do you?”

  He threw his head back with an uproarious laugh and I narrowed my eyes in my most menacing glare, which made him laugh harder. “Gracious, woman, what kind of thoughts have you been thinking that you don’t want me to know?” His eyes danced with naughtiness and I turned away from him in an embarrassed huff. He reached out and grabbed my arm, pulling me easily to him. He stroked my cheek, his eyes tender.

  “Ah, my brown haired lassie, I cannot give you heaven, at least not with me. But I can show you the most beautiful palace in all of France. You can even see the king of France himself, King Louis XIV, if you like.” One corner of his mouth curled up in a satisfied grin. He’d caught me hook, line and sinker with that invitation and he knew it.

  “La Palace de Versailles? You’ve been there? And you’ve met King Louis XIV?”

  “Aye, I have. Did ye want to go?” he asked in a casual tone. I squealed and flung my arms around his neck. He lifted me easily in his strong arms and swung me in circles, laughing as I grinned at him with unrestrained enthusiasm. When he set me on my feet, I was practically dancing with excitement.

  “When can we go? Should we ride back to the château?” My eyes darted around the clearing, looking for the horse. I found him still munching grass and he glanced up at me and shook his mane, whinnying.

  “We can go anytime you like, love. I can just cast the memory and we’re there. Still…” his voice trailed off as his gaze swept over my pink shirt and beige slacks. “Maybe we should get ready for the ball first, aye?”

  Chapter 7

  The clearing washed away like a ruined painting—blanket, basket, horse and all. I blinked to focus my eyes and the château appeared, with two majestic black horses standing patiently before an old fashioned carriage. I glanced up at Aiden and my hand flew to my mouth as a giggle escaped me.

  He was wearing a forest green jacket, ornately decorated with golden embroidery. Shining buttons ran down the front and the sleeves flared in wide cuffs at his wrists. A white scarf was tied around his neck and tucked into the front of his coat. Billowing culottes peeked out from under the heavy coat, tied at the knees with elaborate bows. His legs were encased in tights that matched his jacket and ended in black shoes with square toes and two-inch heels.

  The pièce de résistance however, was the curly powdered wig that flowed over his shoulders. He looked completely regal and absolutely ridiculous. I struggled to stifle the giggles and he glared down at me, his eyebrows drawn together in a frown.

  “What’s so funny? Don’t you like my costume? This is very fashionable, haute couture, I assure ye!”

  Pulling myself together, I glanced down at the outfit he’d cast upon me and my laughter turned to amazement. “Oh, my goodness, Aiden, it’s beautiful!” Vertical rows of opalescent pearls adorned the bodice of my deep green ball gown, and my breasts floated above the corset in silk pockets like white candles in water. The tight sleeves ended at my elbows in ruffles of lace. White satin gloves covered the length of my forearms and an exquisite emerald bracelet encircled my left wrist.

  My hair was pulled up and cascaded in bouncy ringlets down the back of my neck. The gown flared at my waist while the green silk skirt split in the front to reveal a ruffled white taffeta petticoat underneath. I twirled around, enjoying the swishing sound of the skirts, and beamed up at Aiden, no longer finding his costume quite so funny. He smiled down at me, obviously pleased at my reaction to the gown.

  “Hmm… You’re missing something.” He reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a strand of iridescent pearls. An emerald hung from the center of the necklace, set into a golden replica of the sun. He affixed the necklace in place and I gazed up at him in wonder.

  You are amazing.

  I spoke to him with my mind and he bowed his head in acceptance of my compliment. He held out one arm to me in invitation and opened the carriage door.

  “Mademoiselle?”

  With a giggle, I did my best curtsey then looped one gloved hand around his arm. Stepping through the door of the carriage was like being transported back in time as the scene changed from one he was casting now to one from his memory.

  I glanced up and gasped.

  A younger version of Aiden sat directly across from us, anxiously tapping his fingers on his knee. An older gentleman, whom I guessed to be Uncle Alex, sat stiffly beside him. He was somewhat portly, with squinty eyes and a bulbous nose. Yet he had an authoritative air that demanded unquestioning respect. I liked him instantly.

  The carriage jerked to life and Aiden reflexively reached out an arm to steady me. The movement quickly mellowed to a bouncy, rolling gait. Uncle Alex spoke in quick bursts of French to young Aiden, who responded as if he were reciting answers to an exam. Though I didn’t follow the conversation fully, I gathered that Alex was quizzing him on appropriate behavior and what to expect once they’d arrived at the palace. I caught the name Marie Hélène de Saint-Simon as they were talking and leaned over to Aiden.

  “Who are they talking about?” I whispered as if they could hear me.

  “She was the daughter of the Duke of Saint-Simon. My uncle wanted me to make a good impression on her so that I might court her and win favor with the Duke.”

  My eyebrows shot up in surprise. I hadn’t expected a former love interest and I found the thought both intriguing and unsettling at the same time. “And did you?” I asked.

  “Hmph. You’ll see,” he responded with a shrug.

  We rode in silence while Uncle Alex peppered young Aiden with questions in French. I watched out the window in wide-eyed wonder as the carriage pulled into the palace gardens. The landscaping was completely different from the countryside, with lengthy rows of hedges and meticulously manicured bushes. Grand canals of water reflected the moonlight like mirrors. Statues of King Louis peered down at us from every angle as we proceeded toward his dwelling place. An immense fountain with a golden statue of a god-like figure on a chariot spouted water thirty feet in the air. Hunting dogs encircled him, shooting water from their mouths into the center. It was all incredibly surreal an
d my heart raced at the thought of what the palace itself must be like. I’d never seen anything so massive and struggled to imagine how many people lived in this palace, catering to the king’s every whim.

  I can’t believe I’m really here. In Versailles.

  The carriage jerked to a stop and the door was opened from the outside as we reached another set of gates. A palace guard peered inside and inquired in gruff French about our identity and business. Uncle Alex stated his name and Aiden’s and that they were guests of the king for the ball in honor of the ambassador of the Shah of Persia, Mohammed Reza Beg. It was eerie the way that the guard looked right through me as if I weren’t there. I had to remind myself that he couldn’t see me since this was simply a memory of Aiden’s projected out for me to enjoy. Satisfied, the guard waved us on and the carriage started off again.

  Finally, the carriage pulled to a stop and we got out, people streaming all around us in the equestrian parade of carriages. Royal guards escorted us into the lobby, which was decorated in golden patterns covering the walls and ceiling. A magnificent marble staircase led up to the king’s quarters on one side and the queen’s quarters on the other. I thought it rather sad actually, that they had separate bedrooms. Threads of orchestral music floated over me, the violins and flutes sweetly welcoming us.

  We moved with the throngs of guests and I gaped unabashedly at the splendor of the rooms, knowing no one could see me anyway. Aiden detailed the history for me as we were swept through the interior of the palace.

  “King Louis likened himself to Apollo, pagan god of the Sun, so everything is golden and reflects the sun.”

  I nodded, enchanted by the statues of naked cherubs frolicking along the walls. The domed ceilings were painted with exquisite detail, some depicting heroic battle scenes of the king’s triumph over his enemies, others displaying peaceful harmony with angels and Rubenesque naked women fawning at the king’s feet. The crowd seemed to settle in as we came to La Galerie des Glaces—the Hall of Mirrors. My eyes welled up with tears at the beauty of the vast enclosed terrace, with its mirrored arches on one side and matching windows on the other.