Temple of Indra's Lies (Time-Traveling Bibliophile Book 3)

by Rachael Stapleton

  I smiled and shook his hand. ”It’s a nickname he has for me. Please call me Sophia.”

  “Pleased to meet ye, Sophia. I’m Sam.” He released my hand and took a step back to glance around the room.

  “Sam—as in our new boss—Samuel MacDonnell, owner of Dunlace Castle?” It was Leslie’s voice that spoke. She flipped her hair and wet her lips as she stepped into the kitchen in little more than an oversized plaid shirt.

  Sam laughed. “Aye, I am the castle’s owner but I’m no fit to be anyone’s boss.” Leslie stepped forward until she stood next to him. She reached out to take his hand and their eyes connected.

  I cleared my throat, “Cullen says the castle means a great deal to you.”

  “Ahh, it does. It was built by the MacQuillan family in the thirteenth century. They lost it to my ancestors, the MacDonnells, in the 16th,” Sam replied, his eyes still firmly planted on Leslie. “Have ye seen the castle?”

  “Cullen took us there yesterday,” Leslie responded before I had the chance.

  “So he did. I was supposed to join ye, now, wasn’t I, but didn’t I get delayed. Just got in late last night.” The man finally let go of Leslie’s hand, “I’m glad ye lasses are on board. I’d like to restore things as accurately as possible, and knowing the full history would surely help.” I noticed a strain in his voice as he finished speaking and I turned to see the innkeeper’s wife standing in the doorway. She was scowling. Most likely she didn’t approve of Leslie’s choice of attire.

  Chapter Ten

  Oul MacDonnell had a Bride

  Northern Ireland, November 1551

  “Come in, and have a seat, daughter. I’ve news to share.”

  Tension crept up Sive’s spine as she took the seat across from her Da. All she could think of was Sorely Boy’s comment with regards to her wedding. It’ll be a frosty day in hell before that happens.

  Her father had barely been home an hour and she had no idea how his visit had gone.

  “I’ve sent a messenger to Dún an Aonaigh. Ye’re to be married.”

  Sive didn’a believe herself capable of such happiness. He was sending a messenger to the surrounding clans to announce the wedding. How wonderful. He had worked it out with Niall. “Da, I’m thrilled. Does Conal know?”

  “Now, dinna go getting’ ahead of yerself, lass. Ye will no like what I’m about to tell ye.”

  Sive sobered. “But Da…”

  “Ye’ll not be wed to Conal.”

  “Then who?”

  “The Warrior Chieftain of the MacDonnell Clan.”

  “Sorely Boy. But…”

  “I’ve not discussed the arrangement with him yet, but Saundra says she does not foresee him turnin’ us down, aye.”

  The idea of marrying Sorely Boy was suffocating. Conal and Sorely Boy were cousins—they were practically brothers. If she remained unwed then at least she would have been free to carry on with Conal when no one was watching, but Sorely Boy would kill her if he caught her with Conal. She could feel her spirit retreating farther and farther into itself.

  “I want ye to ready yerself.” Her father went on, “Ye will accompany me to Dún an Aonaigh Castle tomorrow.”

  “But Da, ye’ve just returned. How can ye travel again so soon?”

  “It’s not far and it makes no difference to me. What matters is that my only daughter is cared for, and that the lands and our people are given a proper leader.”

  Sive contemplated shouting but her father was a hard man and when she’d defied him before, he’d locked her away. And yet part of her pondered the confinement—it would be a better option than marriage to Sorely Boy. “Why Sorely? Ye know Conal would make a fair leader and husband.”

  Uilliam sighed, “Careful now, daughter, if ye dig a grave for others, ye might fall into it yerself. I’ve my reasons and I expect ye to abide.”

  “But ye won’t share ‘em with me?”

  He ignored the question, clearing his throat instead. “A closed mouth is a wise head. Ye will remain here at the castle until the wedding, after that ye will move to yer new home, Dún an Aonaigh Castle.”

  Tears fell from Sive’s eyes but she swiped them away as quickly as she could. Her Da would not appreciate her blubbering at a time like this. He pretended not to notice, turning his head to reach for his water. When he was done sipping, he set it down and turned back to her.

  “Most likely ye will wind up back at this castle one day. Now go and prepare for our trip.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Bloody Heat

  Southern India, September 2015

  I awoke alone in the empty, unbearably hot fleabag hotel room we’d been forced to shack up in for the night. The air conditioning was sketchy at best so I wandered out onto the hotel’s balcony in search of a cooling breeze, but there was none to be found in Kumbakonam. I could only assume Leslie and Cullen were one of two places, the pool or breakfast. Why the hell had they left me behind?

  Since arriving in India, we’d met bus and train delays, found many of the tours full and, most troubling, discovered that no one seemed to know where the Temple of Indra—the very reason we’d flown all this way—was located. We’d even scoured the Sati Chaura Ghat in Uttar Pradesh, where I’d always assumed it was.

  I frowned in the mirror as a bead of sweat snaked its way into my eye. Cullen was probably downstairs swimming laps, cutting sleekly across the thirty-foot length of the pool while I drowned in my own perspiration. After twisting the top portion of my hair into a top knot, I threw on a peach-and-black Ikat print bikini and headed down the hotel’s chipped and peeling stairway.

  The pool was empty but Leslie was curled up asleep in the shade. There were two loungers about ten feet from the edge of the pool and one of them held Cullen’s sunscreen and towel. I hurried over to the empty chair, the pavement warm on my toes, and settled into my research—a folder of Dunlace Castle documentation detailing family lineage with birth, death, and marriage certificates. I was three pages into one of the journals when Cullen returned.

  “Aeval!” I could see out of my peripheral vision that he was walking toward me–his cell phone, which he’d just been on, was still in his hand – and he was clearly in a state of excitement. “I’ve found it! I’ve found Indra!”

  “Great,” I replied distractedly.

  “South Indian Tours will take us to the Airavatesvara Temple this Saturday.”

  “I can’t wait.”

  “Sophia, are ye listenin’? I just spoke to South Indian Tours. I’m meeting a man named Ram Kumar in the lobby this afternoon to get the tickets.”

  “Got it! You found the temple.” I glanced up from the document and met Cullen’s mock-hostile expression with a mixture of amusement and dread.

  “I guess that wasn’t a proper good morning.” He grinned.

  “No, it wasn’t.” I agreed.

  “Let’s try that again.” He waited a minute and then smiled. “Howya gorgeous, sorry for leaving ye behind. I thought it best to let ye lie in. Is this spot taken?” He towered above me in a fedora, plaid swim trunks and a white tee shirt that was almost see-through from sweat—the bared part of his body muscled, lean, and sensual. I felt a familiar fluttering.

  “I suppose you can sit here, but only until my husband arrives and only if you get naked.”

  Cullen laughed, stripping himself of his shirt, and then bent over to kiss me. “Jaysus, the sun is splittin’ the stones today.”

  I nodded and he took a seat, stretching out in the chair next to me. Leslie’s snores grew louder from the back corner and we smirked at one another. Leslie always denied that she snored.

  “So why aren’t ye excited that I found the temple? This is what we’ve been searchin’ for.”

  “I am excited.” I put the marriage certificate I was holding aside and ran a hand through my newly bobbed hair, lifting and ungluing the sticky ends from my neck. Had the last two weeks finally paid off? The tips of his own ginger hair peeked out from under his fedo
ra, looking just as sweaty as my own.

  “It’s just that you’ve said this every time and so far we’ve been to sixteen possible places and none of them has turned out to be Indra.” I adjusted my sunglasses to hide my skepticism.

  Over and over we were told there was no temple dedicated to Indra, but that had to be a lie. Gigi had told me the tale of the Purple Delhi Sapphire a hundred times. My mind rejected that it was only a bedtime story, not after all I’d been through and yet doubt was beginning to creep in. The only woman who even vaguely knew of Indra told me of the Airavatesvara Temple, a place where her Great Aunt Saraswati worked. She claimed her aunt was a Rishika—a female sage—who would help us.

  “Ye don’t think we’ll actually find a resting place for the jewels, do ye? Ye need to have faith, woman!”

  “Harrumph,” I said, making the growling noise I’d learned from him. “I had plenty of faith when we left Dublin.”

  I jumped up and strode to the pool, quickly taking the steps until I was deep enough to dive below the surface. I swam the length and rose at the far end of the pool. The water was refreshing. I swam back to the shallow end right below the surface and right into Cullen.

  “Sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

  I smiled and turned using the wall to shoot away from him. I was a fast swimmer.

  He passed me in an instant and was waiting in the deep end when I arrived.

  “I wasn’t done with ye yet. Why are ye runnin’ away, love?”

  “I’m not,” I answered. “I’m doing laps. I hardly ever get to swim anymore and you’re in my way, so please move.”

  He leaned into me and gave me a kiss on the neck. His fingers teased the strap of my bathing suit top.

  “You are insatiable,” I whispered.

  “Do ye know what I think?” He pulled back; fiery green eyes surveyed me pointedly.

  “Yeah, I think I do,” I said, biting my lip.

  I turned, kicking away from the wall again.

  Once more, he was at the other end, waiting. I plowed into him, fingers scraping his warm, muscled stomach.

  He grinned, catching my hands. His grip was strong, his breath was husky. “I think ye’re trying to bury yourself in the Dunlace Castle’s research to cover up the fact that you’re scared and discouraged.”

  “Not true,” I said, attempting to break free. “What about the Rishika? Have you heard from her?”

  “No word from that one yet. Besides, if she works at the temple, love, then we should be able to find her there. Now tell me what ye’re really thinking.”

  He caught my chin. I went still and he studied me. “I’m fine.” I lied.

  The truth was transporting the dagger and ring from Ireland to New Delhi and now to Southern India, had weighed on my last nerve. The thought that I might be transported into the past once more haunted me daily. The reflection from the water made his eyes like tiny little mirrors reflecting my guilt.

  “I always know when ye’re fibbin’, Aeval,” he teased. “Now admit it or I’ll work it from ye.”

  His mouth ground down on mine, his tongue parted my lips and filled me. I felt a shot of fire streak directly between my legs.

  I pulled away. “Cullen, Leslie’s right there and this is a public pool. People can see us.”

  “All the more reason to cooperate.”

  A twinge of excitement twisted inside me. “I guess you’ll just have to work it from me.”

  “I think I’m gonna vomit!” Leslie shouted, jumping from her chair.

  We jerked apart like two teenagers caught necking behind the jungle gym, surprised and shocked into silence by the sound of Leslie’s gagging in the bushes.

  “We’d better get her upstairs.” I said.

  “I’ll grab some dry toast for her from the breakfast area.” Cullen replied.

  Chapter Twelve

  Negotiation

  Northern Ireland, November 1551

  The long table in Dún an Aonaigh Castle’s dining hall looked inviting, covered with shimmering candelabras and a fruit centerpiece. Pewter plates were added, each one topped with a white linen napkin. Sorely Boy invited the McQuillan’s to join him at the head of the table.

  Once they were seated, their glasses were filled.

  “I offer my apologies for the hasty arrival but I have a proposition for ye. I hope ye will find it pleasing.”

  Sorely Boy plastered a huge smile on his face. ”Ye have always been good to me, my Lord, and I canna see how anything ye propose would not be to my liking.”

  Steaming leg of lamb and tongue were brought in and set on elevated dishes.

  Uilliam McQuillan stood and held out his glass in toast. “Good then, let us eat first and, after, we can discuss the strengthening of Clans McQuillan and MacDonnell.”

  Reluctantly, Sive took a sip of her wine. She found the toast to be rather vexing considering she was the bargaining chip, but she drank anyway.

  Sorely Boy and Da were reminiscing about Sorely Boy’s own father, who’d passed two years before, while Sive pondered a life here in this castle with this man. She’d always thought him to be awkward and slightly mad in the head, always talking to himself as a child. At least he’d outgrown the madness but he was still awkward. Unlike Conal, he’d never shown her an ounce of attention, this gave her hope that he would turn down her Da’s outlandish proposal.

  Sive was pulled from her self-doubt when suddenly Sorely Boy turned to her, “Has yer tongue stopped working, Sive. I dinna think I’ve ever seen ye so hush.”

  Sive nodded and shifted uncomfortably. The servant refilled her glass for what must have been the fourth time and she realized she was feeling rather light headed. She’d never drank more than two cups during a meal, but then again, she’d never felt this hopeless.

  “Tell me, Sorely Boy,” Da said, smiling, “Have ye a lass that ye’re fond of?”

  Sive’s heart pounded, and she pushed the piece of lamb around her plate, unable to stomach even a bite.

  “I do not,” Sorely Boy stated flatly.

  Da continued, “Oh come now. Surely there must be someone?”

  “I assure ye, Uilliam, there is no one of importance. I have been far too busy for that,” he returned, looking amused.

  “What would ye say to the idea that we unite our clans?”

  “I would not disagree. What do ye have in mind?”

  “I’d like ye to take Sive as yer bride.”

  Sorely Boy paused. “Sive is an honorable lass, a fine prize to any man who wins her affections.”

  Sive looked from Sorely Boy to her Da and watched as his eyebrows knit tightly together. Hope swelled in her belly. Was Sorely Boy rejecting her Da’s offer?

  “Well?” Da asked sharply. “Was that a yes?”

  “Aye, of course it was. I would be honored,” he said at last.

  “Good.” Uilliam sighed. “Then we shall enjoy the rest of this meal, and hammer out the details and if ‘tis to both of our likings, ye will have my daughter’s hand in marriage before the next full moon.”

  Sive slammed her drink down on the table. Wine slopped over the side. The full moon was less than three weeks away.

  “Are ye alright, Sive?” Da kept his voice level as he spoke, but Sive could see the tension in his jaw.

  Sive nodded and stood from the table. “I apologize. I find myself weary from the long day’s travel.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Accidents Happen

  Southern India, September 2015

  My stomach fluttered at the thought that this time Cullen could have found the correct temple. Was I ready to part with my cursed belongings? I got to my feet after depositing Leslie in the bathroom and removed Gigi’s carved elephant box from my suitcase, where it had been safely hidden, carrying it out onto the hotel’s balcony. Despite the late hour, exotic Carnatic sound floated up from two streets over where the musicians were gathered on the corner.

  Vibrations traveled up my arm and into the pit of my
stomach as I shifted the cloth inside the box. Even the thought of looking at the gemstones spread dampness down my spine. It didn’t help that we were in Southern India and I’d never felt such heat. A sweat bead fell from my chin and landed on my chest and my fingers trembled ever so slightly as I reached inside the box, tempted to stroke the sparkly purple chips embedded in the handle of the dagger, but I pulled away when the vibrations intensified. The dagger had been my wedding present to Cullen, made using my family’s own notorious jewel—the Purple Delhi Sapphire. My engagement ring lay beside it, just as devious. It also held a chip from the same gemstone. I looked down to my ring finger, where the sapphire had been perched only weeks ago. I’d grown used to the hum, but it wasn’t safe to wear anymore. Cullen had made that clear when he bought me this new solitaire to replace it.

  I covered the dagger and ring back up and set the closed box on the table beside me, taking a deep breath to shut out the sensations. That was a mistake. The scent of unwashed bodies and hot garbage wafted up.

  “Have ye ever heard such a racket?” a voice exclaimed at my shoulder.

  I jumped slightly, so engrossed in my own thoughts that I forgot Cullen was coming back so soon.

  He kissed my cheek and then leaned back and tilted his hat, his fiery green gaze locking in on my chest. “Are ye a wee bit warm, Aeval?”

  That was an understatement. We’d just gone swimming and my white dress was already soaked through and clinging to my breasts as if it were molded there.

  “I can’t take much more of this heat.”

  “The heat, really? If this honkin’ keeps up, I’m gonna try and deafen myself, save the locals the trouble or maybe we could give ‘em a run for their money. Show ‘em how loud we can really be.” He gave me a bawdy wink.

  “I read there’s a system to it. That’s why they honk. The big vehicles get the right of way.”

  As if to punctuate our statements, we heard the ear-ripping noise of metal against metal and then shouts and horns.