Bound by Dreams Read online

  TWO HOURS LATER Nicholas was outside Calan’s room waiting for an update when the elevator doors opened.

  Calan’s great-aunt appeared, scanning room numbers carefully. When she saw Nicholas, relief filled her face. “I just had a phone call from the hospital. They told me that Calan had been hurt, but they wouldn’t give me any details.”

  “He’s downstairs in intensive care.” Nicholas took her arm. “Why don’t we sit down. Calan can’t have any visitors yet.”

  Agatha MacKay’s face went pale. “What happened, Nicholas?”

  “There was an…incident. Calan missed the gunfire, but something has affected his heart. The diagnosis is still unclear, I’m afraid. He may need a temporary pacemaker. Do you know if he has any history of cardiac arrhythmia?”

  Calan’s great-aunt ran a hand across her eyes. “I’m not sure. His side of the family has always been very closed. My husband, when he was alive, never spoke much about family matters. I’m afraid I can’t help you very much.” She frowned, watching an orderly push an empty gurney into the elevator. “But aren’t there tests that can be done? Things like X-rays or ultrasound exams?”

  “For some reason Calan’s condition doesn’t fit any existing model. If we knew his medical history, it would help the staff to decide on treatment.”

  “I can search my letters and old records when I get home. But I would like to see him before I go, even if it’s only a brief visit.”

  “His doctor will have to decide that. They’re with him now.”

  She nodded, looking tired and a little dazed. “Have you spoken with Miss Morissey, Nicholas? You know…her story?”

  “I do,” Nicholas said flatly. “But we’ve had no chance to speak about it.”

  “It sounds tragic. I do hope you can get to the bottom of what happened.”

  “Not for a while, I’m afraid. Kiera was hurt, too.” Nicholas motioned down the hall. “She’s in the room next to her sister, who is a patient, too.”

  “All three of them are here?” Agatha MacKay sank down in the chair that Nicholas had drawn up. “I suspected that something was going on. Calan never tells me much of anything, not that I expect him to discuss his work. But where did this all happen? Was it at the abbey? Were you or any of your family…”

  Nicholas had already planned a sanitized account without any sensitive details. “No, the incident did not take place at the abbey. All my family is fine, thank heaven. But that is in a large part due to your great nephew’s bravery, Agatha,” Nicholas said. “And I’m going to do everything in my power to see that Calan recovers.”

  The woman looked more worried than before.

  “Agatha, maybe we should find someplace more comfortable for you to sit.”

  “Not yet. I need to see Kiera first. But this…incident you mentioned. It involved you, Nicholas? They didn’t come after Calan, did they?”

  Nicholas frowned. “I don’t know what you mean, Agatha. Who would come after Calan? He never mentioned any problems to me.”

  The old woman cleared her throat. “Of course not. I was—mistaken. There has been no contact with his brother or his uncle, I take it?” Her voice was cold. “Not that I would know how to contact Magnus, even if I wanted to.”

  “I don’t know how to reach them and Calan hasn’t been conscious long enough to pass on any information to me or the hospital.”

  “So they haven’t been told.” His answer seemed to make Agatha MacKay strangely relieved. “I will see Calan as soon as his doctors permit it. Now I would like to see Miss Morissey.” The old woman’s determined tone made it very clear that neither hospital protocol nor nursing regulations would stand in her way.

  “She may be asleep. She has been through a great deal.”

  “Then I’ll wait. While I do, perhaps you will tell me exactly what has happened to her, Nicholas. And I only hope…” Agatha’s voice trailed away. Whatever else she would have said was forgotten as the door to Kiera’s room opened. A bandaged hand closed around the door frame.

  The fingers locked, white with tension.

  Kiera’s eyes were clouded with anxiety as she walked slowly through the door. “Where are my sister and Calan?” she said hoarsely. “I’m not taking any more medicine until I’ve seen them both.” She swayed a little, and Nicholas lunged to grip her arm.

  He didn’t scold her for being out of bed. The look of anguish on her face was too deep for anger or reproach.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  KIERA STOOD through raw force of will, ignoring the pain at her chest and the effort it took to stand up. Questions about Maddy and Calan haunted her, their condition burning through her mind. She had to know they were safe.

  “Your sister is downstairs in X-ray right now. She should be finished in about fifteen minutes.” Nicholas Draycott spoke slowly, as if he was considering every word. “If there’s anything I can do for you—anything at all—I hope you will let me know.”

  Kiera looked at him squarely for the first time. Emotions warred in her face. There was none of the hatred she expected to feel. “Just take me to Calan. I can’t think about anything else now. As long as Maddy is safe, nothing else matters, don’t you see?” She took a slow breath. “Calan wanted me to ask you what happened. He told me to listen—really listen to what you told me. So I will,” Kiera said quietly. “But I have to see him first. He looked so pale in the helicopter. If I lose him—” Kiera looked away, and her voice broke off sharply.

  Izzy emerged from a nearby room, pushing a wheelchair. He cleared his throat as he made a neat turn and angled the chair behind Kiera with a flourish. “Nobody is going to lose anybody,” he said briskly. “Now we’ve got that straight, let’s go for a ride.” He helped Kiera sit down. “And if the nurse says you can’t see Calan, we’ll go find someone else who says you can.” He glanced at Nicholas Draycott. “He won’t tell you this, I see. But since your uncle there happens to have endowed almost every room in this facility and he is spending a hell of a lot of money on your care right now, I don’t think breaking a few rules will be that hard.”

  BUT KIERA’S HOPES of seeing Calan failed.

  He had gone straight from one set of tests into another room for more tests. The closed looks of the staff made it clear that his situation was grave.

  The afternoon shadows ran into night. The day staff went home and the night staff moved efficiently into their place. The hours ran together for Kiera, exhausted after her own ordeal. Recovery was slow. Every movement made her chest ache. She refused sleeping medication, wanting to be available as soon as Calan was able to have visitors. Maddy and Kacey Draycott became unlikely co-conspirators, bringing Kiera frequent progress reports so that she would make no more rash attempts to walk downstairs to find out his current condition.

  On the afternoon of her fourth day in the hospital, Kiera awoke and finally felt clearheaded. She was still in considerable pain, but the pounding throb had settled to a low, continuous ache. And with the return of her energy, she made it clear that she had to see Calan.

  Reluctantly, she agreed to use the wheelchair that her sister and Kacey Draycott made certain was on hand. Kiera was relieved to see her sister was entirely recovered. Even the horror of captivity appeared to have receded beneath Maddy’s natural optimism and endless curiosity. Meanwhile, there were half-a-dozen military guards posted around the hospital, Kiera noted. Apparently Nicholas Draycott and his government connections were taking no chances on further problems. Izzy had given her a guarded account of what had happened after she had been wounded, and Kiera didn’t ask for details. She was only too happy to put the bitter memories behind her.

  Finally she had permission to enter Calan’s room. She ran a hand through her hair, leaving it in spiky chunks. She probably looked like a walking disaster.

  The first sight of his face left her reeling. He was so pale. His breathing was so shallow that it was barely noticeable. Machinery whirred quietly behind the bed, flashing lights and spiking sensors ma
rking his vital signs.

  Kiera wanted to hold him tightly. As she leaned over the bed, she was overwhelmed by a need to reach out and somehow make him safe and well again. She hated feeling helpless in the face of his condition. “I don’t understand what happened.” She frowned at her sister, who didn’t answer. “No one will tell me anything, and I can’t remember any details. Was he shot or did he fall?”

  “I think you’ll have to ask my husband,” Kacey said quietly. “He was there. He knows. He won’t tell me any of the details, either. I’m sorry.”

  “I want to know,” Kiera said flatly. “I have to know.

  Kacey nodded. “I’ll find Nicholas.” She glanced at Maddy. “Maybe we should go outside and wait, so you can be alone with Calan.”

  Kiera nodded, barely aware of Maddy’s hand on her shoulder and then the sound of their footsteps behind her. She moved the wheelchair forward toward the bed, and then leaned over, sliding Calan’s hand between her fingers. It seemed fiercely important that she make contact with him, no matter how briefly. As she watched the faint rise and fall of his chest, Kiera had the strange sense that he was aware of her presence, and that the words she said next would be infinitely important.

  She took a deep breath, staring at his motionless fingers and marshalling her thoughts. “Mainly, I want you to know this. I think I love you, Calan MacKay.” Her voice broke for a moment and then she continued. “I never expected it to happen. I’m not even sure that I wanted it to happen,” she said with a little anguished laugh. “I came to England to close the door on the past. Instead you opened entirely new doors for me. I fought and argued every step of the way, but you helped me to open my eyes when it was much easier not to look around me. They won’t tell me what happened to you or even what to expect. But I want you to know I will be staying right here. I’ll be as close to you as they will let me be, right beside you until you wake up.” There was no movement to show that he heard her, no flutter of his eyelids or tremor in his fingers. But somewhere in her mind, Kiera sensed that her words had registered. The instinct was as deep and powerful as the sense of wordless contact she had had with the dark wolf on the marsh, but she refused to believe there was any connection.

  With her eyes closed, she leaned over his motionless body. Gently, she rested her fingers on top of his. Maybe he didn’t hear anything she said. Maybe her efforts were hopeless. But a deep, wordless determination gripped her, and she refused to let him go without her best struggle.

  From the corner of her eye, she saw a nurse in the doorway. Clearly, her time was up. But leaving was the last thing Kiera wanted to do.

  “It’s time, Ms. Morissey. I’m sorry,” the nurse said quietly.

  Kiera realized her cheeks were damp. She brushed the tears away impatiently. “When can I see him again?”

  “In six hours.” The nurse’s voice fell. “Unless…his condition changes.”

  “He’ll be better. He’s strong and he’s a fighter,” Kiera said fiercely. “I know it.”

  The nurse nodded briskly. “Of course he will be better. But now you need to rest. I’ll push you outside. Your sister and Lady Draycott are waiting for you.”

  Hearing the name and the title so abruptly came as a slap to Kiera. The old instinct for anger and distrust surged to life, only to fade just as quickly. Kiera was not the same woman who had climbed over the abbey’s old stone fence only a few nights earlier. Somehow she would have to face those changes, and that included accepting the fact that Nicholas Draycott was a decent man.

  So much to accept. So many changes to face.

  But none of these things mattered if she didn’t have Calan to share the future with.

  Maddy squeezed her hand. None of the women spoke on the way back to Kiera’s room.

  HE WAS A TALL MAN, and there was a sense of distance in his eyes as he watched the three women pass. He recognized Nicholas Draycott’s wife, but not the two others.

  Which was the woman that his nephew had so rashly risked his life to protect?

  Magnus MacKay clenched his fists inside his rain-streaked jacket, cutting off a curse. It had been years since he had seen his nephew. As the laird of the Grey Isle, Magnus had carried the grave responsibilities of protecting the dangerous and ancient secrets of the clan from enemies and outsiders alike.

  He would take his nephew home, back to the fog-swept island where he belonged. There Calan would recover in the old way, using the old skills. His powers would finally be complete.

  He would be safe there on the Grey Isle, away from these English strangers who could never understand his gift. Soon he would be the new laird.

  The rest of his past was irrelevant.

  His future was with the clan and he would remember nothing about what had happened here.

  A COLD GUST OF AIR PLAYED across Agatha MacKay’s neck. She shivered, pushing aside her barely touched scone. All day she had been filled with a sense of dread, as if a trap was about to slam shut.

  A shadow fell from the window behind her. She turned—and her formless dread took on full, sharp outlines.

  He looked older than when she had last seen him. Older and much harder, Agatha thought. It was hardly surprising. The Grey Isle could turn anyone old before his time.

  “You’ve come,” she said flatly.

  “With no thanks to you. You might have reached me with the news instead of having it come from a stranger in London whom I had sent to keep discreet tabs on my nephew. You’ve never liked us,” he said coldly. “My great-uncle should never have married someone outside our clan.”

  “He married for love, not duty,” the old woman said, her own voice harsh in turn. “But I suppose that’s something you will never understand.”

  “Love is an empty word,” he repeated harshly. “It belongs in a weak man’s book of tales.”

  “You’re just like your brother, aren’t you? How proud he must have been of you. I wonder if you realize how much you lost the day that Calan was put to sea. Yes, I know all about that piece of savagery.” Agatha MacKay shook her head, and then she stood up slowly. “There will be no stopping you, will there?”

  Magnus’s cold, forbidding expression was answer enough.

  “He’ll hate you for it. He’ll hate you almost as much as I do.”

  Magnus MacKay smiled thinly and shrugged his powerful shoulders. “Will he? But your feelings and your wishes are of no interest to me, old woman. Stop muttering and take me to my nephew.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  SIX HOURS CRAWLED past in a blur.

  Six hours of restless uncertainty and growing urgency.

  Now Kiera stood up slowly, carefully gaining her balance as she took stock of the quiet hospital corridor and of her life to that moment. A look, a touch, any sign of recovery—that was all she needed. It seemed that she had spent far too much time in her life on travel and furthering her career, and that time should have been spent learning to trust and grow in the company of an amazing man like Calan.

  Kiera made a fierce promise to start making up for all that lost time. When Izzy, waiting, ever watchful, made a move as if to follow her into Calan’s room, she held up a hand. “Please. Give me just a few minutes alone with him first.”

  “Of course,” Izzy murmured. “But I’ll be right outside.”

  It still hurt to walk and the stitches above her heart ached, but Kiera forced all her pain and stiffness from her mind. Smiling, she opened the door, blinking in the sunlight that spilled from the window. Then she ran a hand over her eyes.

  The room was empty. The bed was neatly made and all signs of personal belongings removed. Shock hit her in the chest like a fist.

  “Where is he—what’s happened?”

  “What do you mean?” Izzy peered into the room and cursed softly. “Must be some kind of bureaucratic decision. Maybe his condition has been upgraded. No one told me anything about it.”

  Kiera’s heart lurched. What if it was something else? What if he—?

>   No. Her whole being rebelled against the thought that Calan had died. On some level she would have known immediately. The shining thread of contact stretching between them was too strong for her to have missed its sudden snapping.

  She spun around, pushed open the door and glared down at the nursing station. “I want to know where he is, Izzy.”

  “So do I,” Izzy growled.

  Footsteps raced up the corridor behind them. “I must have just missed you in the elevator.” Nicholas Draycott strode toward them. His face was haggard, his mouth set in an angry, flat line.

  “What’s happened?”

  “Not here.” He pushed open the door to the room where Calan had been a patient. “You need to sit down, Miss Morissey.”

  “Kiera. I think we’re beyond being formal, don’t you? Just tell me what’s happened to Calan.”

  Nicholas waited until Kiera was sitting down on the bed. Then he ran a hand through his hair. “He’s gone.”

  “Gone where?”

  “North, I suspect. Up to Scotland. His uncle came and signed him out against medical advice.”

  “Why didn’t you stop him?” Kiera lurched to her feet. “He wasn’t in any shape to travel.”

  Cold anger sliced through Nicholas’s voice. “Do you think I don’t know that? I tried to stop them. I made calls to everyone I knew. But I’m a friend, not a relative the way Magnus and Agatha are.”

  Kiera ran a shaky hand over her face. “Agatha MacKay was involved in this insanity?”

  Nicholas nodded. “She signed the discharge request along with Calan’s uncle.”

  “Aren’t you going to do anything?” Kiera blew out an angry breath. “Let’s go after them. Let’s just—”

  “I tried. They have the full weight of the law on their side.” Nicholas stared out the window. “Magnus has taken him by ambulance to Hastings, and from there I gather they are traveling north by private plane.” Nicholas toyed with something inside his pocket, an then glanced at Izzy, whose eyebrow rose slowly. “At least I’ll be able to track him.”