Cruel Fortunes Omnibus: Volumes One to Four

by RAE STAPLETON

  “What’s the date?”

  “Today is the seventeenth day of November and ‘tis yer weddin’ day.”

  I started to refute the woman’s claims, only to find that my mouth was dry and my knees were shaking. I sat quietly instead.

  “This is Dunlace Castle?” I’d done it again I thought remembering the date on Sive McQuillan’s marriage certificate. Laughter threatened to bubble up out of my throat. I was in the year fifteen hundred and fifty-one.

  Unless I’d hit my head in the temple chamber and I was now conjuring this up in my mind. After time traveling so many times, I often dreamed about it but I never made up new adventures. Then again, Cullen had asked me to solve the mystery of the Castle. Perhaps he’d put the idea in my head but more than likely I was really here and the only thing I could do was solve the mystery and find a way home.

  “And what were ye needin’ Conal for, lass?”

  The woman’s question seemed to throw me out of my thoughts, and I found myself answering automatically.

  “It doesn’t matter.” I relaxed a little as I noticed that my knees were no longer shaking, and my breathing had returned to normal.

  “Come on, lass. Old Bridget’ll get ye fixed up for the wedding, ye can count on me.”

  The woman I assumed was Bridget took off up the stairs, leaving me with little option other than to follow.

  I should have been frightened but I wasn’t. Startled, yes, but not scared.

  Much like the castle, the woman was a familiar sight; she looked just like the Sam’s Aunt Ida from the inn in modern-day Ireland, except the clothing and the accent was slightly different. She was a good four inches shorter than me, and her eyes were still the deepest shade of blue. Of course, she wouldn’t know me, not the real me. This was clearly the past-life version of her. It was funny to me how sometimes we looked exactly the same in our past lives and yet other times completely different.

  As I followed along, I rationalized my worries away by concentrating on two pieces of information that stuck out in my mind.

  One, time always stopped when I traveled so there was no rush back, which was also a negative because no one would notice that I was gone, and I could be stuck here until old age, depending on when I died.

  Two, I only ever traveled into a past life so clearly, I had existed in this time and place. I suddenly wished I’d paid more attention to Cullen when he’d spoken of the castle ruin’s history. I should have known we were drawn there for a reason.

  The research Leslie and I had been doing came back to me in snippets. My mind started to grasp the facts one by one as they presented themselves. I was pretty sure the McQuillan clan was attacked in November of 1551. This started a war between the three close-knit clans. As to why, or who was responsible, no one had ever been able to find out. Regardless, there was nothing that I could do about it now. If there was one thing I’d learned from my past experiences, it was to play along.

  I looked up as Bridget came to a halt in front of me and realized instantly that I had been paying little attention to the route we had taken to the door in front of which I was now standing.

  It was a magnificent door. Strong yet feminine, the door was carved with precise detail that swirled in and around the wood.

  “Into yer bedchamber, lass. After the weddin’, ye will move to yer husband’s castle.” She paused to push the door open and gestured, nudging me inside.

  The bed was covered in jewel toned shades that were mirrored throughout the rest of the room, and I allowed myself to fall into the center of it. I was just snuggling deep down into the lush fabrics when Bridget tugged at me.

  “Come on, lass. Up ye go.” She grabbed me by the arm, hauling me up out of the bed.

  My head swam once again as I stood, and I gripped the wooden bedpost to hold myself up.

  “What are ye doing?” I pushed the old woman’s hands away from me.

  “What does it look like I’m doin’, lass? Ye are to be at the church promptly!” Bridget’s voice was shrill and demanding as she placed her hands on her hips and glared straight at me. Bridget’s face seemed to soften. “Lass, I’m sorry everythin’ is happening so fast for ye. I dinna know why yer Da changed his mind about who ye would marry but we have to respect his decision.” Bridget sank down onto the edge of the bed and crossed her arms with a look of exasperation. “This is yer duty and yer fate now and ye must accept it with grace.”

  “Who am I marrying?”

  “Did ye hit yer head lass, whilst ye were in the bottle, or are ye teasin’ me?” I sat while she ran a comb through my hair. “Who,” she chuckled. “As if ye could ever forget after moanin’ and cryin’ about it for weeks now.” Bridget walked in front of me. “Ah! That’s not bad, lass!” She took my shoulders and turned me around so that I was facing the mirror. “There. All fixed up.”

  I stared back at my reflection, barely able to recognize the girl in the mirror. The pink in the dress made my blue eyes sparkle, and the cut of the gown pushed the girls up fairly high. “Thank ye, Bridget. Ye did a great job.”

  “I’m pleased to hear it, miss. Now, off we go.”

  I followed her down the steps and we chatted as we went. “Ye seem to be a smidge more accepting of the weddin’ than ye were earlier, so I’m glad to see ye’ve had a change of heart…Oh dear. I forgot the bouquet. Stay put. I’ll only be a moment.”

  As I stood in the foyer of the castle, I scanned the walls searching for exits, wondering if and when I should make a run for it. Any moment Bridget would return to take me to meet my groom. Then he came into view. My heart hammered wildly inside my chest, and my breath lodged in my throat as we locked eyes.

  Coming through the doorway, he was beaming back at me with a smile so wide that I couldn’t help but smile in return.

  He stepped forward and I was immediately hypnotized by his eyes. The different flecks of gold that danced inside and around the swirls of green—I wanted to melt inside him.

  “I shouldn’t be here but I just needed to see ye again. To tell ye that ye look beautiful, my love.”

  I was staring at his eyes so intently that the impact of his lips on mine startled me and I tried to jerk away, but he prevented me from doing so with his hand on the smallest part of my back. Instead he pulled me close to his chest. His right hand cupped the left side of my face as he moved his lips confidently against my own.

  Part of me felt I should have stopped the kiss; realistically, I was kissing a total stranger. But I wasn’t. This stranger was my Cullen, and my body betrayed me, sending heat down to the farthest ends of my fingertips and toes. Relief coursed through me as I realized I would be marrying Cullen. Granted, it was a past-life version of him but that was fine by me.

  Had it not been for Bridget’s grunts on the stairs, I think the kiss would have gone on much longer, but the noise caused Cullen—as I thought of him—to jerk away. As he did so, a look of utter shame crossed his face. We’d been caught kissing before the nuptials. That was definitely a no-no.

  I reached to lay my fingers against his cheek. I expected a smile in return, but instead I was rewarded with a pained expression.

  “Are the two of ye ready? It’s time.”

  I nodded and he disappeared back out the way he’d come. Bridget fawned over my hair and then led me around the corner and up the path. I tried to keep pace with her stride, but the bottom of my dress kept getting in the way and instead I stumbled along, tripping with every other step.

  There was firmness in the way she gripped me, which I couldn’t understand. What could I have possibly done to upset her? Was it that big of a deal that the groom had seen me before the wedding?

  The wedding chapel was not right at the edge of the cliff but it was close enough.

  A crowd had gathered out front of it. I remembered from my history lessons that the couple would often meet at the church door on the steps, in front of everyone where the priest would perform the marriage ceremony. After that they would go inside
to hear mass as a married couple for the first time, before heading off to the wedding feast.

  As we neared the church that overlooked the ocean, I scanned the crowd of townspeople all dressed in their finest, excitedly waiting for the wedding to begin. I’d been here only weeks before with Cullen and Leslie and wandered this very area.

  My heart fluttered at the thought that he would take my hand in marriage, and I would live each day happy until I could get back to my own time.

  The crowd parted and I envisioned Cullen next to the Priest on the steps. Instead, I locked eyes with a stranger. A man, older than the one I’d just met by about ten or twelve years. He was brawny and handsome and only the silver running through his dark hair gave his age away. Could he be my father, no, too young and he was dressed differently from the rest. He was definitely the groom.

  My heart hammered wildly inside my chest, and my breath lodged in my throat. I looked all around me but I couldn’t find the man who’d kissed me.

  The groom stepped forward and grinned as the ceremony began. There was something familiar about that smile—a madness I had seen before.

  Bridget whispered in my ear. “Dinna’ look so disheartened lass. I know ye had feelings for Conal, but his cousin’s a fine lad too and in time ye’ll be happy with him, ye’ll see.”

  His cousin. Panic spread through me. No. This couldn’t be happening. So far in my past lives, the same people had rotated around me and the same man had murdered me. Cullen’s brother, Liam. Only, I’d taken care of him…but that was over two hundred years from now. He could do anything he wanted to me in this time, especially if I were his wife.

  I stared down the aisle and he stared back. Did he know it was really me? I couldn’t take the chance.

  “I’m sorry. I feel unwell. I need a moment.”

  I turned and ran back in the direction from which I’d just come.

  THIRTY-ONE

  I headed for the castle’s main doors, scooping the length of the gown so I could run faster. Gasps followed me but I only increased my speed. One of the men shouted to let me go. I could only assume it was the groom. They most likely thought I was about to be sick. I was inside and on the second floor of the castle, moving as quickly as I could up the stairs, when I tripped. Before my face could impact the stone, I felt hands around my waist.

  “Are ye alright?”

  Conal pulled me into his arms, and his eyes, a mixture of green flecked with gold, held my own for a second longer than felt comfortable, but I fought the urge to look away. He bent his head to plant a quick kiss on my lips as he carried me up the staircase.

  I allowed my head to fall against his chest.

  “I’m sorry. I just couldn’t...”

  “I’m glad ye couldn’t go through with it, lass.” He carried me into my bedchamber, and set me gently on my feet as he turned to close the chamber door.

  I turned away from him to take in the wood, stone, and furs that surrounded me. I closed my eyes to breathe in the delicious scent of the room’s luscious materials, just as he flattened himself against my back, wrapping his arms around my waist.

  He nuzzled his mouth against the back of my neck, and I could feel his hot breath on the exposed skin. My heart was racing with anticipation as he turned me around and touched his lips to my neck, trailing kisses from my collarbone up to my ear. He nibbled it gently, and I reached my hand up behind me so that I could run my fingers into his hair.

  “Ye need to stay here. I’ll go and have a word with my cousin and yer Da. He isn’t going to like what I have to say but I’ll say it none the less.”

  “What will happen?” I started to interject on impulse but was silenced by a sharp bite on my neck.

  “Shhh ... Yer safe, lass. I’ll no let anyone else come between us again.”

  His hands had only just left my waist when a fierce knock came at the door.

  “Conal! Are ye in there, man?”

  “I’ll be out in a minute.”

  “Hurry up. Sorely Boy’s men have set a fire. We need to take leave before McQuillan blames ye.”

  “I said I’m comin’.”

  Conal headed for the door. “I won’t leave ye, lass. I’ll be back.”

  THIRTY-TWO

  I made my way to the window to watch the scene below. The fire was raging. What I could only assume was the guardhouse. I truly was in 16th-century Ireland. Truly in Dunlace Castle and surrounded by the people—the very dead people—Leslie and I had been reading about. Something tugged at the back of my brain. I’d read over so many facts… Surely, I knew something that could save us. I would have to tell Conal the truth and then we could brainstorm.

  I headed for the large wooden door when it opened. At first, I assumed it must be Conal returning, but one quick glance told me this was not my ginger-haired love.

  “Well, well, well! Who should I find but my runaway bride?” The man walked toward me in a menacing fashion, and I could tell from the glazed expression in his eyes that he’d been drinking.

  There was something familiar about him but I couldn’t pinpoint it. His eyes were dark, like Liam’s, except a fleck of green ran through this man’s iris.

  “What is yer name?” I questioned, backing up until I hit the bedpost behind me.

  “What are ye playing at, Sive? He swayed slightly and leaned back against the wall. He knew my name—although he pronounced it funny, it almost sounded like he’d said Sheeva.

  I took a step forward, realizing I could make a run for it, if I could only get him on the bed. “Ye look as if ye are about to collapse. Why don’t ye sit down on the bed?” I said.

  “Inviting me to bed, are ye then, ye wee harlot. Why doesn’t that surprise me.”

  He lunged for me and his hand tightened around my wrist. I knew what he meant to do and I pulled back but he was too strong, too angry, too determined. He jerked me against him, imprisoning my arms with his, and bent his head to my mouth.

  “Let me go, damn it!” I clawed at his neck and broke the ribbon that held his shirt closed like a drawstring. The neckline sagged opened, revealing a large, angry purplish-red welt. This was the groom I’d run from earlier. He immediately let me go and reached for his neck as if embarrassed that I’d seen it.

  Then he grabbed me around the middle as he threw me onto the bed. He straddled me and the kiss he forced on me was insulting, hard and desperate. His hands began to paw at my dress.

  “Release her now, Sorely Boy. Or the room will run red with yer blood. “

  He didn’t stop.

  A roar to my right caught my attention, just as a hand pulled the man’s lips from mine and sent him tumbling to the floor.

  The man rolled over but didn’t try to get up. “What in the devil do ye mean by this, Uilliam? Yer daughter belongs to me.”

  “She does not. She will always belong to me. I was merely willin’ to loan her to ye!” he roared.

  “Watch yer tongue, old man, lest I cut it out. Now, we made a deal and if yer backin’ out then ye best prepare for war.”

  “Looks like I’m too late. Yer men attacked, ye traitorous devil.”

  “Yer wrong. My men would not attack without my say. That’s most likely Niall’s men ye have to thank. That’s what happens when ye call off a betrothal. Ye best not do it twice or there’ll be no one to save ye.”

  This new man, Uilliam whirled on me and before I could get out a word in protest, he jerked me up by both arms and roughly dragged me away from the large room. He trembled with anger. I could feel it in the grip with which he held onto my arms. He scooped me up and carried me down the hall, screaming in Gaelic every step of the way.

  “Please. Let me explain. I...”

  He immediately interrupted me with more Gaelic cursing. My Cullen occasionally reverted to his native tongue so I knew what this man was screaming wasn’t great news.

  The silence that followed was worse. He didn’t say a word as my head jostled up and down against his back, and as he descended the s
tairs to the main floor. Hope fluttered within and I wondered if this man—my father, according to the jilted groom—was rescuing me. But instead of going outside, he stopped and set me down in front of a large wooden door. This gave me a chance to look into his eyes and chills ran down my spine.

  I’d no sooner recognized that dark and dangerous gaze than he pulled the great door open and pushed me inside onto the first step. The dank and dirty smell of some place far below ground reached my nostrils.

  He was jangling a large set of keys.

  “What are ye doing?” I asked.

  “Shut yer gob! Ye’ve no one to blame but yerself. Ye jilted a warrior chieftain at the altar, and before that, ye seduced his cousin and now he attacks the castle! Ye may be my kin but ye are a treacherous jezebel, Sive! Ye probably started the fire as a distraction and ordered Conal to slay the castlefolk whilst ye ran. Ye bewitched him. Ye bewitched us all and now I must lock ye away so that no other lad may be cursed by ye.”

  I shook my head, remembering the story of the banshee, but she’d been locked in the tower. This was more like the dungeon. How many other things had I read and just what was truth and what had been embellished over the years? This castle was about to be torn apart—a clan war caused by a jilted suitor. I could be back in my own life soon enough, but how painful would it be to burn to death?

  Changing the past was a long shot, as I’d learned before, but if I could fix the situation then maybe everyone would live. Not that I wanted to live here in this time—but I could find another way home. Why else had I been pulled back if not to help rectify the situation? Tears unwillingly filled my eyes.

  Uilliam’s face hardened at the sight of them.

  “Never ye fret, I’ll see to it that ye die alongside yer lover.”

  “Wait, Uilliam—is it? Please, let me explain. I think I can help. My name is not Sive—it’s Sophia Marcil. I’m from the twenty-first century. I possess a magic that has allowed me at times to travel through time and that’s how I came to be here at Dunlace Castle...in the sixteenth century.”