HIDDEN IN TIME

by Longley, Barbara

  A year ago, she never would’ve suggested or believed what she was about to say. Regan and Fáelán had changed all that. They’d shaken her perceptions of the world to the core. “She’s not here. I know what happened. Grayce is no longer in our realm, or dimension … plane, whatever the hell you call different layers of existence.” She patted the jutting boulder. “This is where she crossed into where she is now. She’s trapped. Grayce is trapped somewhere else. She’s hurt, and she’s frightened.”

  Her mother sobbed and Meredith put her arms around her. “Fáelán, is there a way you can reach your daughter? Boann is our only hope in finding Grayce and bringing her home.”

  “’Tis the veil between the realms ye feel. Fecking fae,” Fáelán muttered, stomping around in a circle and raking his fingers through his hair. “They’re at it again. King Lir will surely—”

  “No.” Meredith shook her head. “I don’t get the sense the fae are at anything again. Something about this magic and Grayce’s disappearance feels ancient.”

  Grayce had bathed, and her scrapes had been slathered with some sort of herbal salve that eased the sting. She now wore borrowed clothing, a full-length linen shift, covered by another shift. The outer garment of finely woven, lightweight wool opened on either side, and like Brian’s tunic, the fabric had been dyed an earthy green. The gown had also been embroidered in the same Celtic pattern as Brian’s tunic.

  Both shifts were too long, and she had to hold up the hems to keep from tripping. Her clunky hiking boots completed the ensemble. What a picture she made. Her leather boots with their fat, black, rubber-treaded soles, peeked out from beneath the hem of a gown like those worn by women in the Dark Ages. Her piercings added a nice touch.

  Brianna had insisted Grayce wear a kerchief over her blue hair. She’d complied, only because she didn’t know anything about where she was or how the other inhabitants might react to her. “Where are you taking me?”

  “To our ceremonial grounds where everything will be explained,” Brianna told her. “My son and husband will join us there.”

  “Why can’t you just tell me what’s going on, where I am and when this is?” she asked, not for the first time.

  “I cannot. That’s not how things are done here.”

  She was on her way to a place where ceremonies were held, and these people lived as if they were still in the third or fourth century. Her gut tightened. “Um … your clan doesn’t perform human sacrifices to ensure the year’s crops are bountiful, do they? Because, just so you know, I’m not a virgin.”

  Brianna laughed and shook her head. “Not at all. A lamb perhaps, or an ox, but we never sacrifice humans, especially not a woman,” she chided, her eyes sparkling. “Women are highly revered by the men here.”

  “You speak differently than your son and husband.”

  “Like you, I am not from here,” Brianna told her.

  Grayce had been wondering about that since she’d met Brian’s parents. His mother had a very slight accent, not Irish. French maybe? Italian? Her olive skin, dark eyes and hair hinted at Mediterranean origins. Moroccan? Now didn’t seem like the right time to pry into Brianna’s personal life. If the woman wasn’t willing to tell her where they were and how Grayce had gotten here, why would be she be willing to share personal information about herself?

  For that matter, if she’d fallen into the distant past, how was it Brian spoke fairly modern English—fairly modern as in Shakespeare’s English—and not his native Irish? Wait. Was she even still in Ireland? All the questions crowding her brain gave her a headache, or maybe she’d bounced her skull against the rocks one too many times as she twisted and turned her way down that tunnel.

  They’d reached a wide, worn path leading to a wooded area, and other men and women joined them, along with a few young boys. All the looks coming her way were curious, but she also sensed a welcoming vibe and an odd acceptance at her sudden appearance in their midst. Where was the suspicion, the fear of someone who’d simply appeared that she’d expect from an ancient culture?

  Brianna answered greetings and waved, yet no one approached or introduced themselves to her. No one asked who she was or where she’d come from. The entire situation left her baffled and off-kilter.

  Well, hell, she’d fallen into some kind of alternate, parallel universe where the inhabitants behaved like Stepford Wife characters in a television drama. All will be explained soon. She’d find all this interesting if she weren’t the main character in the drama about to unfold. Who knew what these people had planned for her? She shivered, and dread settled like a sandbag in her gut.

  She followed Brianna into a large, circular clearing at the center of the wooded area. Benches had been arranged around the center, and there, an elderly man who could’ve stepped out of a Lord of the Rings—type movie paced around a stone-ringed fire pit. The wizard wore a flowing robe of grayish wool, and he had a long white beard and equally long thinning white hair. All he lacked were a magical staff and a pointy hat to complete the picture of a wizard from Middle Earth. A similarly dressed teenaged boy worked on starting a fire in the pit. The elder’s pacing came to a halt as Brianna led Grayce to stand before him.

  “This is Grayce MacCarthy. My son found her near the southern cliffs,” Brianna said, gesturing toward her. “Grayce, this is Ceann Carraig, our—”

  “By the goddess,” he murmured as he studied her intently, his mouth twisting this way and that. Suddenly he sucked in a breath and gazed off into the distance, his eyes narrowing. The old wizard grunted and shook his head.

  “This changes everything. Take a seat there.” He pointed to a bench in the front row. He muttered to himself as he strode off toward a group of men and women also wearing flowing robes.

  More cryptic shit. Great. Grayce sighed as Brianna led her to their assigned spot. “What did the wizard mean when he said—”

  “He’s not a wizard; he’s our head druid priest, and I don’t know what he meant any more than you do.” Brianna searched the crowd filing into the clearing. “There they are.” She held up her hand.

  Weren’t druids and wizards pretty much the same thing? Grayce followed the direction of Brianna’s gaze. A shock of awareness slammed through her the instant she caught sight of Brian. He kept his eyes glued to her as he wended his way through the milling crowd. OK, this is new. Why couldn’t she breathe … or blink? She’d never reacted to a man this way before. Never.

  Earlier, she’d wanted to do him bodily harm. She still did; didn’t she? Yet, now she couldn’t tear her gaze from him. Sure, he was something to behold, standing half a head taller than everyone else, strutting like he owned the right to crow about how impossibly strong and handsome he was. Still, he was just a man. He put his snug-fitting, suede pants on one leg at a time—something she’d very much like to witness, only in reverse.

  A sudden hush spread through the clearing, followed by a low murmur. Tension vibrated through the air as a young man led a woman through the crowd to the front of the circle. She was gorgeous, tall and curvy. Lustrous dark hair cascaded down to the middle of her back, and her hips swayed seductively as she walked.

  She wore purposefully ragged jeans, the kind people paid way too much for, and a slinky blouse in a shade of crimson that screamed Hey, look at me; I’m sexy as hell. Her lipstick matched the shirt, and so did her fingernails.

  Figures. Grayce had come to this place a muddy, scraped, and bruised mess. Then she’d been swathed in layers of shapeless shifts two sizes too large. Somewhere inside all this linen and wool, she had curves too, dammit. She studied her torn fingernail and scowled at the unfairness of life. What did I do to deserve falling through a monster-sized rabbit hole anyway? Grayce blinked against the sudden sting in her eyes. Her family must be so worried about her.

  The sexy woman sauntered into the clearing looking as if she were walking along the red carpet at a movie premiere. Her dark eyes flitted over the crowd, stopping when she caught sight of Brian. Then her expression
turned to intense, covetous speculation.

  Why didn’t this woman seem even a little bit freaked out to find herself in such strange surroundings? Grayce concentrated on the newcomer. Deceitfulness and cunning came through loud and clear, and understanding came to her. This woman wasn’t freaked out because she was the type who took advantage of whatever situation she found herself in at any given moment and in any given place. Grayce also caught a hint of relief from the brunette, like she’d just dodged a bullet. Hmm.

  As the beauty was introduced to the druid, Grayce snuck a peek at Brian, curious to see his reaction to the sudden appearance of another woman, this one a stunner. Her breath caught. His attention hadn’t waivered; his eyes were still glued to her and only her. He flashed her a brilliant, heart-stopping smile.

  Try as she might, she couldn’t suppress her own answering smile. Damn biological chemistry and damn her pendulum-swinging emotions. Brian and his father reached her bench. Sloan sat next to his wife on one end, and Brian took the spot next to her on the other end. Jazzed up molecules of mutual attraction leaped and danced between them. Not good. Not good at all. She could not and would not succumb to the attraction, no matter how brilliant his smile or how incredibly hot she found him.

  After all, she still couldn’t say for certain he hadn’t caused her crash-entrance into this place. She was not convinced these people weren’t fae, and everyone knew how much the Tuatha dé Danann loved to wreak havoc upon mortals. Well, not everybody knew, but then not many had a brother-in-law who had been cursed centuries ago by a fae princess.

  Besides, her visions might return any second, which never boded well for romance, and her family would rescue her very soon. No point in starting something she couldn’t finish. Grayce stiffened her spine and focused all her attention upon the wizard pacing around the fire, which now licked at the air with tongues of orange flame.

  Brian made a deep rumbling sound, half groan, half purr. A tingle worked its way through her. She risked another peek, only to find him studying her intently. His expression took on a decidedly possessive glint the moment their eyes met and held. She did her best to glare, eliciting a soft chuckle and a wink. Her brother-in-law winked a lot too. Was winking a Baiscne clan thing?

  Her heart pitter-pattering, she leaned ever so slightly, inhaling Brian’s fresh, entirely masculine outdoorsy scent. He must use some kind of evergreen as sachets for his clothing. “Whatever it is you’re thinking, forget it. My family will come for me.”

  “Aye?”

  She nodded and faced the wizard again just as the elder lifted his gnarled hands for quiet. Curse the man sitting beside her. Her hormones weren’t interested in why she should ignore him. She leaned a millimeter closer to catch another whiff of his enticing scent. He must’ve picked up on her slight shift because he too leaned closer. Their shoulders met and stuck like opposite poles of two magnets, and then their thighs followed. The swift intake of his breath scrambled her brain and set her pulse on a racetrack around her ribcage.

  Dammit. No. She’d best keep her hands and her thoughts strictly to herself. Grayce straightened away from Brian, and the wizard began speaking. Good. She needed answers as much as she needed something to distract her from the seductive heat and scent of one Brian of na Baiscne.

  Torn between wanting to prevent Grayce from fleeing and eagerness to witness her reaction as she learned the truth, Brian kept her in his field of vision. Ceann Carraig stopped his pacing, and silence descended like nightfall over the sacred ceremonial grounds. The druid would begin as he always did when a woman came to their valleys. He’d recite their clan’s history. Pride swelled. His people were Fionn MacCumhaill’s chosen.

  “Eons ago, it came to pass that the kings and clans of Éire began fighting amongst themselves. Our own Fionn MacCumhaill foresaw his great army would be defeated and scattered to the four corners of our beloved island.” Ceann Carraig paused, his gaze roaming from villager to villager. “MacCumhaill knew with certainty his army of Fianna would be betrayed and destroyed by the very kings they had served faithfully for an age.”

  Even though they’d all heard the tale a thousand times, a hue and cry arose, and many shook their fists in the air as if hearing this disturbing news for the first time. Ceann Carraig held up his hands, and the crowd once again quieted.

  “Fionn MacCumhaill had a vision foretelling the battles to come. He feared the destruction of his army would leave his clan vulnerable to attack. If Fionn did naught to prevent the injustice, we of na Baiscne would be wiped from the face of the earth.”

  At this, a fresh wave of anguish arose from those gathered within the circle. Grayce was every bit as transfixed by the druid’s tale as the rest of his clan. Brian lowered his chin and continued to watch her as she perched closer to the edge of her seat. He studied her profile. The curve of her cheek, the straightness of her fine nose, and the fullness of her lips. She fascinated him. It would be quite pleasing to stare at her for hours.

  “As war raged throughout Éire, Fionn gathered his druids, his chieftains and the clan’s elders. He called upon his fae kin and met with the newly formed council in secret.” Ceann Carraig’s voice projected over the crowd. “He charged his council with the task of finding a place where our people could be hidden from the rest of the world. After weeks and weeks of searching, our three connecting valleys here in na Comeragh were chosen. Here we have everything we need to prosper: game, fresh water, timber, minerals and plenty of land for farming and for grazing our livestock.”

  He paced around the fire as he spoke. “Fionn’s fae relations taught our ancestors how we must live, and how best to care for our valleys to ensure we would never want for aught. The fae then blessed us with good health and long life.”

  A murmur of assent and the nodding of heads punctuated the druid’s speech. Ceann Carraig also nodded. “Here in na Comeragh, the fae and our druids rent the very fabric of time and space, creating a fissure wherein our three valleys would be hidden from the rest of the world for all time.”

  Grayce tensed. Her mouth opened slightly and she gasped. Then she turned an accusatory glare his way. “If that’s true, how did you manage to bring me here?”

  “Patience, Grayce.” He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms in front of him. “I did naught to bring ye to our valleys, and ye cannot lay blame at my feet for what my ancestors did more than a millennium past,” he said, his tone low. “Ye do realize I did not yet exist when all this took place.”

  “Hmph.”

  His mother held a finger to her lips and aimed a stern maternal scowl at him, as if he were an errant lad of no more than eight summers. Mind, she did so in front of the woman he wanted to impress. Sighing, he turned back to Ceann Carraig and feigned calmness when he felt anything but calm. His entire being attuned to the blue-haired woman beside him, he prepared himself for how Grayce might react once she heard the rest. The part where her sudden presence in their hidden vales would be explained—along with her fate.

  The druid’s expression clouded. “Always it has been thus: When one of our clan passes into the realm of spirit, the fabric of the tapestry of time and space opens, and a young woman is brought through to one of our valleys. The fae and our druids planned our society in this way from the very beginning. They knew for our clan to remain strong and healthy, ’twould be necessary to control our numbers and to bring new blood into our line.”

  His gaze settled first upon Grayce, and then upon the dark-haired woman. “This day, as our chieftain passed, two women came through. Two. This can only be interpreted as yet another portent. The magic protecting na Gleannta Bhfolach is unravelling.”

  Ceann Carraig glanced toward his fellow druids as if seeking their approval. They nodded encouragingly. His brow lowered and his visage turned to one of resignation. “We have taken all that has occurred into consideration. In the past, we’ve held contests of will, wit, strength, and endurance between the young men wishing to lay claim to the one female who came to u
s, and only the strongest among them were considered worthy.”

  Grayce straightened and tensed. “Lay claim?” she hissed.

  “Sráidbhaile Meán is without leadership at a time when our need for a strong chieftain is great. We must have a leader of exemplary character and strength of will to see us through our present threat.” The druid’s voice rose to a dramatic pitch. “We have discussed the matter amongst ourselves, and with the welfare of our entire clan at heart, we druids have come to a decision.”

  Ceann Carraig’s eyes glinted with resolve. The druid priests and priestesses were responsible for the spiritual and physical well-being of the clan, while the chieftains and council of elders managed the day-to-day governance, resolved conflicts, planned for the future, and administered justice. Brian had great respect for the druids. They maintained the delicate balance necessary for harmony between mankind, the land, beasts and the goddess and the fae.

  “As well as winning the right to claim his mate, we have determined the coming tournament will also decide who our new chieftain shall be. The one who scores highest overall will step into the leadership role for our village.” Several men stood up and shouted.

  “Ceann Carraig,” Aiden shouted over the others and leaped to his feet. “We have always chosen our chieftains by consensus. Competing for the right to claim a woman has never been part of choosing who will lead us. The way we have always determined these matters must not be altered. Doing so will only weaken the magic further.”

  Ceann Carraig arched a brow, his stare boring into Aiden. “Ye know better than the druid caste how to protect our way of life and our clan’s well-being? Tell me, Aiden MacBlaine, can ye also bend the elements to your will? What do ye know of potions, I wonder?”