Saundra swore that setting up the Ó Catháins for killing Uilliam’s nephew—the heir to Dunlace Castle—was a surefire way to end the arrangement, leaving Sive and the Castle up for grabs.
“Ye dinna keep yer end of the agreement. Ye said I would be Lord of Dunlace.”
Saundra stepped to his side and sweetly took his arm. “Calm down, Sorely. And so ye shall. We’ll figure this out.”
It had bothered Sorely to betray his cousin, Conal, but it was for the greater good. The route was meant to be his. Sorely threw the metal goblet into the hearth and the flames roared up. “What kind of beast hands his daughter over to the clan that has just killed his heir?”
Of course, the Ó Catháins had not been the ones to kill the McQuillan heir, but Uilliam wasn’t aware of that.
“We mustn’t let this go, Sorely. With Rory dead, Sive is heir to the largest keep in all of Ireland, while yer territory is by far the second largest. ‘Tis an insult of the deepest accord that Uilliam passed ye over for yer lowly Ó Catháin relations. Ye are meant to rule the route. Ye must do somethin’ more to end this betrothal once and for all. I foresee the way but it means the death of one of yer own kin—one of the Ó Catháins. Can ye do it?”
She was right. She was the witch of Dunlace—all knowing. It wouldn’t take much to rile the feathers of one of the McQuillan lads. He’d talk them into retaliating. There was nothing like a revenge killing to sour relations.
“Ready my horse. McQuillan may not have the balls to call off the betrothal but we will see how understanding the Ó Catháins are when one of their own is taken.”
Chapter Seven
Research Trip
Northern Ireland, September 11, 2015
“Aren’t ye a wee bit old for the boogeyman, Aeval?” Cullen said, retreating into the bathroom before I could retort.
“He’s right, Sophia, what exactly are you looking for?” Leslie asked, “You look sort of crazy, rifling through empty drawers and checking in closets and under beds.”
Grunting, I put one hand on the bed and pulled myself back up onto my feet. Leslie wore sweats and had her hair pulled up, she was casually holding a half-eaten Twinkie in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other.
“I don’t know. Something feels off, Les. I just can’t shake the feeling that something isn’t right about this place. Did you not find that old couple weird? The woman, Ida said she’d only met Sam once, but he told Cullen these people were his family?”
Leslie plopped down into a floral printed wingback chair. “Not all families are close—just look at mine.”
“True, but there were black candles on the mantle and the woman wore a pentagram around her neck.”
“So.”
“She tucked it into her neckline pretty fast when she met us. It drew my attention.”
Cullen opened the bathroom door and returned to our conversation as if he’d never left. “Are ye a witch hunter now, Aeval? What’s the big deal if the old gal practices magic? Most folks out here are a wee bit superstitious.”
“Besides, don’t you feel hypocritical?” Leslie asked.
“Stop ganging up on me.” I walked across the room and grabbed the corkscrew off the table, working away at the wine bottle while I spoke. “I don’t care whether or not she practices magic but why did she hide it?” The cork popped out of the bottle, and I paused to take it off of the corkscrew before pouring us each a hearty glass. “Rochus practiced magic and obviously I do in a way because of the time travel and the spell book. That’s not what’s bothering me. I just can’t ignore this feeling, I’m not sure if it was the castle or the Inn but something has me on high alert.”
Leslie took a big swig, “This wine tastes funny.”
“That’s probably because you’re pregnant and your spawn is interested in self-preservation right now even if we don’t agree with it and anyway, that was Cullen’s glass.”
“Stop calling it spawn.”
Cullen’s brother, Liam, had manipulated Leslie and gotten her pregnant. He’d also stalked me and we’d battled it out resulting in his death.
“Everyone’s got to do their own growing, no matter how tall their father was.”
“What does that even mean, Cullen?”
“It means ye can’t blame this baby for Liam’s sins.”
I rolled my eyes. Ireland still hadn’t come round to the idea of abortion, and apparently neither had Cullen. Not that I was a huge fan, but in cases like this it made sense.
“I think it’s my right to call the fetus spawn considering Liam almost killed us two weeks ago. I’m a Scorpio; forgiveness is not exactly my forte.” I turned to Leslie. “How are you feeling, anyway?”
“Quit asking me that. I’m pregnant, not injured.”
“Debatable. Have you thought about what you’re going to do?”
“I’m still getting an abortion.”
I let out a sigh. “Good. I was worried you’d changed your mind.”
She had to be roughly seven or eight weeks pregnant now.
“Why didn’t you go through with the abortion when you flew home to Toronto? Are you waiting for the baby to pop out and nod its approval? Because it might be a little late at that point.”
She shrugged her shoulders at me, annoyed. “I’ll deal with it after we get back from India. So, back to your crazy behavior, how is searching our rooms going to help?”
“I don’t know.” I set my glass down so I could swing my arms about in aggravation. “I’ve seen too many scary movies, I guess. Mostly thanks to you. I just want to make sure there are no hidden cameras or poisoned weeds hidden in the room.”
“Or trapdoors. The masked old couple could sneak in and kill us in the middle of the night.”
I shook my head, frustrated that she found all this funny.
Leslie only laughed harder at my disapproval and pulled a movie from her bag. ”I guess you don’t want to watch this with me then, huh? It’s one of your beloved cheesy eighties movies. I figured it was appropriate since we’re going in search of a temple and it’s about a mystical boy being kidnapped from a temple.”
“The Golden Child—my favourite. You brought your laptop?”
“Of course. You can borrow it in India. I’m sure they’ll be lots of time to watch old movies when we’re sitting on trains and buses. I’ve heard transportation is slow.”
She pulled a brownie from her bag and took a bite.
“Do you really need more sugar before bed?”
She looked down at the brownie in her hand. “Yes, I do, Mom and I’m eating for two, remember.”
“Oh, please, lass, ye’re always eatin’ for two.”
“More like two hundred,” I added.
“Oh Jaysus, let’s hope it’s not a two hundred pound man ye’re birthin’.” Cullen laughed like a lunatic at the thought.
“That would be painful,” Leslie added.
I placed both hands over my face and exhaled as calmly as I could, ”And impossible because she’s not having this baby.”
“Well, Ms. Serious-pants, why don’t you go back to your paranoid babble and if you need me I’ll be next door in my own bed enjoying a slice of pizza with my movie.”
“Pizza?” Cullen sounded intrigued.
I glanced over at Leslie who was wearing a huge smirk on her face. “Yep. Pizza. I packed myself a small cooler bag of munchies. I also have cheese and crackers.”
Cullen stood and faced me after she’d closed the door behind her. “Do ye think I could take the wee lass, Aeval? I could really use some cheese, especially if I’m gonna choke down that wine.”
I emptied my wine and grinned. “Nothing’s impossible, but short of slipping a sleeping pill under the cheese of her pizza, I doubt it.”
His arms shot out, encircling my waist and pulling me into his lap. I gave a funny little giggle that made me regret how fast I’d drunk the wine. ”I guess I’ll just have to satisfy my appetite some other way.” He brushed my lips with his and t
hen tugged softly at my lower lip. I was about to push myself off of him, when I inhaled his familiar spicy scent and my body rebelled. He took my silence as approval and ran his hands down my back, massaging, pressing. My heart slammed in my chest. This was getting carried away.
“Oh no you don’t. I’m getting started on the research tonight. I’ve been waiting all afternoon to dive in.” I pushed against his chest but he held me tight.
“I too have been waiting all afternoon to dive in, Aeval. We’ve not touched since the funeral and I need some distraction, so your wee papers shall have to wait.”
A curious warmth spread through my body, an aching, tingling feeling. I opened my mouth to protest but the words died. I pressed even closer to him, a whimper escaping from deep in my throat. I should find that hidden room. The thought ran through my mind even as I pushed it away, reaching instead for the hard muscles of his chest and arms.
Chapter Eight
Sive to Ride
Northern Ireland, November 1551
The day was brisk, but the sun was out, which wasn’t always a guarantee in Antrim so Sive McQuillan took advantage and delighted in the freedom soaring through the misty glens of Antrim.
Her Da—Lord of Dunlace Castle—was visiting the Parish of Drumachose, which meant there was no one to keep her from riding alone. She missed the days of her youth when she’d been allowed to roam with her cousins. The free and easy exchanges with Conal Ó Catháin had given her life meaning. She hoped her Da and Conal’s kin would reach an agreement soon. It was unfortunate that her cousin had been killed, but Conal had told her of the accident and it was no reason to go to war. Surely Da would understand. Of course, she couldn’t share any of this since Conal had told her in secret. No one knew of their secret meeting place—the abandoned cottage in the Bog.
After a while she came to a waterfall, and stopped, allowing her horse to drink thirstily.
”There ye are, Sive!” The hail almost made her tumble off her horse’s back. Startled, she straightened and turned her head to find her childhood friend riding toward her.
”Sorely Boy. I haven’t seen ye in forever.” He looked older, with lines of suffering in his face that had not been there in those days at Dunlace. Here and there a silver thread glittered against the night-black waves of his hair. He was altogether taller, bigger, more formidable-looking than she remembered.
“How’re ye?” Sive was polite even as she groped for her horse’s reins. Of course they had somehow managed to unwrap themselves from the pommel only to slide down the animal’s neck.
“Aye, it has been years since I saw ye last. I’ve been with family in Scotland.”
Sive nodded and leaned forward as far as she could, but she couldn’t quite reach the reigns.
“Ye’re in need of some help, I see.” Sorely Boy dismounted and trudged through the shallow stream, leaving his horse behind with its reins trailing, to retrieve hers.
“Ye’ve grown since I last set eyes on ye, Sive. Who knew ye’d turn out to be so bonny?” Sorely Boy made no move to hand the reins up to her. Instead he stood rubbing them against his palm as he gazed at her, seemingly heedless of the stream at his feet.
”Ye flatter me, Sorely. Have ye seen yer cousin since ye returned?” She couldn’t say why but she was growing nervous and she held out her hand for her reins.
Sorely, whether he noticed or not, kept the reigns out of reach.
”Conal, ye mean? Aye, I was just there although I didn’a get to spend too much time with him. He was entertaining a lass from Derry. Shall we ride together? We can catch up.”
Sive swallowed hard. He had to be lying. Conal was hers and he wasn’t like that. “I’ve got to head on. Da will be looking for me.” She reached for the reins and took them from him. She didn’t care for the way he stared at her bosom as she bent forward.
”That’s unfortunate for me. Is Uilliam back from the Parish of Drumachose already? I heard he’d gone to Dungiven Castle to meet with Naill Ó Catháin.”
“Aye, naught but a momentary disruption to work out.”
“I shouldn’t like to dash yer spirits, lass, but I canna see things farin’ well.”
“Whatever do ye mean?”
“Ye haven’t heard? Yer kin killed Conal’s brother.”
“Shane? Who would’ve done that?”
“I canna say for sure which one of the McQuillan lads but I think they caught him. ‘Tis lucky the Ó Catháin’s didn’a kill the louse outright. He deserves it, to be sure, but instead they’ve ransomed him. That’s most likely why yer Da is there, to negotiate his release.”
“Ye’re mistaken,” Sive said in a suffocated voice.
Sorely shook his head. “I amn’t.”
“My wedding...” Sive looked down at him rather wildly.
“Aye, I’m sorry, lass, but it’ll be a frosty day in hell before that happens. Yer Da’s not pleased, but there isn’a much he can do. Both sides of the clans are after blood. Conal tried to reason with his men but the lot of them are just too hard-headed.”
Sive just stared, stunned by the news.
“Never ye fret, Sive McQuillan, there’s nothing so bad that it couldn’t be worse. Ye’ll find another lad to warm yer bed. There’s always Clan MacDonnell.”
Chapter Nine
Who’s the Boss?
Northern Ireland, September 2015
I struggled to consciousness with a sigh. The Inn’s room was dark except for a soft orange glow emanating from the fireplace. Stretching, I listened for a noise, something that might have waked me. The room was quiet and Cullen was still in bed beside me. I could feel the warmth of his thigh against my own. His breathing was even.
I reached out to touch him, my fingers brushing gently across his chest. Reluctantly, I pulled back and rolled away, untangling myself from his arms.
As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I surveyed the room. Pale shafts of light spilled in through the window. The room was certainly charming by moonlight. The beams danced along the walls, illuminating a tapestry similar to the one I’d seen at the castle—a family crest of a knight’s helmet. My mind wandered back to yesterday. Surely a tapestry would have been a good place to hide a secret entrance but we’d found nothing. Leslie and I had searched the castle from top to bottom while Cullen met with his team, and if a hidden room existed, it was hidden remarkably well.
I sighed. My mind was growing more active by the minute, imagining the Castle’s hidden room. I had been hungry and exhausted when we’d looked; perhaps having another go at it today would prove more fruitful. After all, my track record was good, I’d found two secret passages in a previous life—one in a fireplace and one in a wardrobe. I could sniff this one out. I just needed another go at it.
I was too excited to remain in bed. Cautiously, I stuck a foot out of the pile of blankets and with a sleepy yawn, I left the warm comfort of Cullen’s body and searched for my suitcase. After I’d dressed warmly, I made my way to the door with the box of documents in hand. The hallway beyond was darker than our room and I took a hesitant step down the stairs.
Slowly, quietly, I roamed farther down the Inn’s staircase until I came to be in the sitting room. Moonlight seeped around the corners of drapery hanging from a window. The dim light kept the room from being pitch black, but still relegated its contents to deep shadow. With cautious steps, I crossed the floor to the table lamp in the corner. I reached out in search of a knob or switch, stopping in mid-motion when I heard a noise. Heart pounding, I looked into the blackness of the room. Was someone there? It was simply too dark to see. I strained into the darkness, listening intently. Silence surrounded me.
How much time had to pass before I stopped being afraid that I would turn around and see Liam standing there with his faintly mocking smile. Liam was dead. I was safe, I knew it.
So why did I feel so horridly vulnerable? For the past few days I’d had the suffocating sensation that someone was spying on me again. No matter how hard I tried to re
assure myself that Liam was dead—I was still consumed by a morbid unease. Every instinct I possessed warned me that something was—or was about to go—terribly wrong. Having been pulled through time more than once now, and hunted by an obsessed maniac, I had learned to listen to my instincts. They were almost always right on target.
But my instincts had been wrong about Liam. I’d loved him from the beginning. Only when it was too late had I understood that I’d overlooked all the signs, that I’d been a fool.
I let out my breath with a whoosh and laughed at myself. Of course there was nobody in here. It was four in the morning and everyone was fast asleep as they should be. Calmed by the silence, I switched on the light and took a seat on the couch. After a half an hour of looking over the castle’s floor plans the glorious smell of coffee reached me.
I expected to find one of the Innkeepers in the kitchen, but instead found a dark haired man standing next to the coffee pot. It surprised me, although it shouldn’t have. This was an Inn after all. There had to be more than just us in the place.
“Care to share?” I said, pulling out a chair at the kitchen table.
The man smiled and extended a mug in my direction. ”Aye, but drink at your own risk. I’m not quite sure how to make the stuff. It’s entirely possible that it tastes like dirt.”
“You don’t know how to make coffee?” I questioned.
He had to be at least twenty-five years old. How could he not know how to brew a decent cup of coffee? I sipped the liquid cautiously. It was strong but delicious.
“Never had the need. I drank tea as a lad and since then someone else is always beating me to the kitchen, plus there’s all those delicious café’s in Dublin.” He smiled and threw his hands up. “‘Tis a bachelor thing to say, I guess.”
I smiled and took another gulp. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been a bachelor.”
“You must be Cullen’s wan? Yer man mostly refers to ye as Aeval, but I don’t believe that’s yer name.”
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