by Glenn, Laura
Joy lightened Anna’s heart as she recalled how much fun she’d had playing with the two little girls while she and Helena caught up the day before their grandmother’s funeral. “They look exactly like their mother, don’t they?”
“Yes,” Ian answered proudly. “They’re gonna give their da, Alex, a run for his money soon enough.”
She laughed. Grandfatherhood seemed to really agree with her uncle. Without a decent man in sight, she was beginning to wonder if she would ever have children of her own.
“Are you doing all right back home, lass?” he asked as though he could read her thoughts. “We worry about you a bit with no family to speak of. Any boyfriends we should know about?”
She shook her head, her lips twisting into a sardonic smile. Perhaps two years ago she could have said yes. That was the last time she’d been in any sort of relationship. Well, that is if one could call the two-month, on-again-off-again affair she’d had with an emergency room doctor, which had ended when Anna kicked his ass to the curb after finding out he had a fiancé, a “relationship”.
Men sucked.
“Between working double shifts at the hospital and commuting, there’s not a whole lot of time to find a boyfriend,” she stated, uncomfortable with the turn the conversation had taken. “When did Helena want to have dinner? I was thinking of heading to the castle for a tour before they start setting up for the fair tomorrow.”
“Oh, about seven or so, I think.”
She nodded. “I was surprised to hear the fair wasn’t starting tonight since it is the equinox.”
Ian shrugged. “Budget cuts, you know how it is. It’s gone from a week-long affair to just three days. Made more sense to capture the tourists over a long weekend rather than starting up mid-week.”
Anna grabbed her purse and green cardigan from where they lay on the bar.
“Do you need a ride up the hill? I could take you on the back of my motorbike,” Ian offered with a boyish grin.
She laughed. “Nah, I’ll be fine.”
The heavy, well-worn wooden door to the pub creaked as it swung open. Ian and Anna turned as a tall, middle-aged man with dark, curly hair crossed the threshold.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Ian said. “We’re closed at the moment. Death in the family.”
The man’s eyes widened and his palm covered his heart. “Oh, I am so very sorry. Please excuse my intrusion, but I am actually looking for an Anna Campbell.” He moved toward them. “I have information indicating she resides here.”
Ian and Anna exchanged surprised glances.
“Well, I’m an Anna Campbell.” Anna tilted her head in curiosity. “I used to live here many years ago.”
“And she is the only Anna Campbell to reside here within my memory,” Ian offered.
The man studied her for a moment, focusing intently upon her eyes and hair. Finally nodding, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a small, white cardboard box. “My name is Neil Campbell. I am the curator of the Maree Castle museum, which is a couple of hours northeast of here. We’ve had something in our possession for some time now that was left to an Anna Campbell at this address. It is from one Alec Campbell. Do you recognize the name at all?”
Anna’s lashes flew up in shock. “My father?” she whispered as a hopeful shiver passed through her.
He offered her a tight-lipped sympathetic smile. “I am sorry, Miss Campbell, but I doubt that, seeing as how the Alec Campbell of which I speak died in 1233.”
1233?
Her heart sank. She breathed deeply and shook her head, determined to dislodge the tears threatening to form in her eyes. She was annoyed the mere mention of her father’s name could dredge up so many emotions after all these years. It just wasn’t possible that someone who died in 1233 would have left her anything. This guy surely had to be some sort of nut job.
“But how can that be, Mr. Campbell?” Ian draped a protective arm around her shoulders. “Are you certain you have your facts straight?”
The man laughed good-naturedly. “Yes, I know how odd it sounds and it has been a wee bit of a mystery for as long as anyone can remember. The item has been passed down in the Campbell family for generations and no one knows any longer about its origins. All we have is Alec Campbell’s will dated to 1232, not long before he died. It clearly states someone is to deliver this package to an Anna Campbell with curly red hair and greenish-blue eyes at the public house in Fannich on September 22, 2012. You appear to be exactly who I am looking for.” He held the box out to her.
Anna eyed it suspiciously for a few seconds before taking it from him. “This doesn’t make sense.” She stared at the box in her palm. “How could some guy eight hundred years ago have known about me or what I look like?”
Neil chuckled and nodded. “It’s a very good question and one we have been attempting to answer for years. Honestly, I did not expect to actually find anyone matching your description here today. Perhaps, you can tell me how this could be?”
She shook her head. “Sorry. The only Alec Campbell I know of was my dad and he disappeared a few months after I was born.”
“I am sorry for that, Miss Campbell,” Neil murmured sympathetically, clasping his hands in front of him.
Anna studied the box, her stomach churning nervously. Her hands shook as she gently laid it on the bar and pulled off the lid. Inside rested a pendant with imperfectly wrought and tarnished but lovely silver knotwork surrounding a polished amber quartz. Always a sucker for slightly flawed antique jewelry, she immediately fell in love.
“A bit of an ugly thing, isn’t it?” Ian leaned over her shoulder to peer at the pendant.
“Oh, no.” She gingerly picked it up. “I think it’s beautiful.”
“It is a Scottish topaz,” Neil stated with a hint of pride in his voice. “It’s native to this part of the Highlands. From what we can tell, the pendant dates to the eleventh century. A mid-twentieth century Campbell laird put it on that chain so that part is not original.”
“Can I put it on?” she asked, awestruck by how the facets of the stone caught the sunlight filtering through the window.
Neil nodded. “Yes, for a little while it would be fine. But I would recommend removing it to a safe place soon. The oils in your skin could damage such an old piece.”
Anna unhooked the clasp and brought it to her neck to secure it in back. A comforting warmth seeped from the pendant into her skin and she stared down at it, admiring the golden honey stone.
Neil reached into his jacket and produced a paper and a pen. “If you could show me some identification and then sign this form indicating you are accepting the pendant, I would appreciate it.”
Anna fished her passport out of her purse and gave it to the man while she quickly scanned the document to make sure she wasn’t signing something she might later regret. Once the man accepted the proof of her identity, she signed the document.
He turned to Ian. “Will you witness?”
Ian nodded and accepted the pen from Anna when she was finished signing.
“Thank you.” Neil placed the paper and pen inside his jacket. “If you ever have any questions or would like to tour the castle, please do not hesitate to phone. We even have Alec Campbell’s will under glass, if you would like to read the words for yourself. I know the staff and current laird would love a chance to speak with you.”
Anna thanked him as a strange uneasiness settled into the pit of her stomach. Something just didn’t seem right about all of this. The man was so quick to hand over this antique to her, not even asking her to prove some sort of lineal descent from the ancient Alec Campbell. Could this actually be for real?
“Well, now isn’t that something,” Ian remarked as the door to the pub closed behind the man. “Would you like me to phone the castle for you? Maybe they will have some answers about how this could have even happened.”
“Sure, maybe in the morning.” She brushed her worries aside and glanced at the clock over the bar. “I’d better get up to t
he castle here, though. The last tour starts in about thirty minutes.”
“You wanna take that off first? It’d be a shame to lose it.” He pointed at the pendant.
Her first instinct was to say yes, but she enjoyed the thought of wearing something so ancient. The Alec Campbell who died in 1233 couldn’t possibly have been her father, but perhaps he was an ancestor of hers. It was silly, but this pendant might be the closest she would ever get to the man who had stared so lovingly at her as a baby in that photo her grandmother had given her. She needed to feel it against her heart for just a little while longer.
Anna shook her head. “No, not just yet. Besides, maybe it’ll be some sort of good-luck charm.” She flashed him a girlish smile as she grabbed her purse and slung it over her shoulder.
Ian rolled his eyes and chuckled. “Just don’t go getting yourself into trouble again, you hear? I am not above giving you the same lecture your grandmother did.”
She laughed and reached up to plant a quick peck on her uncle’s cheek. “See you at Helena’s.”
* * * * *
“And here is the dungeon, which each of you may look into,” droned the castle tour guide. “However, only a few people will fit at a time so, as we walk past, you may enter if you wish and then meet at the castle kitchens.”
Anna glanced at the time on her cell phone before slipping it back into her bag. In about three hours, she was due at her cousin’s house for dinner and her stomach was already growling at the thought of a home-cooked meal.
The tour guide turned toward her tour group and, with a rehearsed faux-grand wave of her hand, motioned toward the dungeon. “In 1213, the MacAirth laird, Galen of Glenverlochy, traded his life for that of his younger brother, Geoffrey. He was imprisoned here for two days before his escape. No one is entirely certain how he got away, but it is said he was aided by a Campbell woman named Anna who was a cousin of the Graham laird, Archibald ‘The Brave’. The two later married.”
Anna’s eyebrows arched in surprise at hearing her name used in reference to some real-life romantic heroine who had lived nearly eight hundred years ago. Perhaps they were even related. She stifled a snort at the thought.
Wait…eight hundred years?
She glanced back at the tour guide as she slid one fingertip over the antique pendant lying against her chest and recalculated how many years it had been since the necklace was willed to her. About eight hundred years. A strange chill breezed across her neck and she shook her head to get rid of it. Those dates were simply a coincidence. She breathed deeply to reassure herself.
The mass of people shuffled along and, as if on an elementary school field trip, Anna fell into line at the back as the tour group filed toward the dungeon entrance. Try as she might, however, she couldn’t shake the notion of some other, more daring and romantic Anna Campbell risking her life to aid an unjustly imprisoned, honorable warrior. Surprisingly, her heart skipped a beat at the thought.
She rolled her eyes in cynical exasperation. What was she, anyway? Some silly, overly romantic eighteen-year-old girl?
Been there, done that, and had the annulment papers to prove it.
She turned to survey the haunting ruins around her. The former walls only stood a few feet high and what was once the floor of the castle was now a nicely manicured lawn. The huge arch they had gone through in order to enter the site, however, was still intact. The ruins appeared so different in the light of day than they had at the fair a decade ago, almost as if there were an inherent sadness in them that was hidden in the darkness.
That poor young man…
Anna’s eyes moistened as she recalled the picture of John Gorham in the local paper the day after his body had been found in the ruins of the castle. He hadn’t been much older than her and was on holiday with some friends before returning to the university where he studied medicine. The strange thing about the murder was that the only thing missing from his wallet was his ID. All the cash and credit cards had been left behind.
When the police had come to her grandparents’ pub to speak to Anna, telling her the young man’s ID had been used in gaining her marriage license with James Gowrie, guilt had descended upon her as though she, herself, had plunged the knife into John. They even showed her a copy of the marriage license and she could barely believe her eyes—the name signed in the space reserved for the groom’s signature was not James Gowrie, but John Gorham. She knew then what must have happened, but no one could figure out why. Why would James need to kill a man for his ID unless he was not who he said he was?
Anna scanned the decaying walls of the castle and was drawn to the river that lay just beyond. Earlier, she had stood at the far wall, marveling at the beauty of the crumbling moss-covered stones as they melded into the rocky shore of the River Fisk. The gentle rapids flowed swiftly beneath her, the water glistening as the sun’s rays bounced off every ripple.
“Hate to be stuck in there,” remarked a woman with a strong Bostonian accent as she exited the chamber.
Her reverie broken, Anna glanced around and realized she was the only one who hadn’t yet viewed the dungeon. A young couple from her tour group shuffled out the door, leaving the antechamber empty. She stepped inside, running her hand over the heavy, well-worn oak door that was propped open with a beat-up rubber doorstop shoved unceremoniously underneath.
A small electric shock zipped through her fingertips and she yanked them back. She threw the door an annoyed glare and shook her hand to rid it of the strange sensation when a wave of dizziness hit. She grabbed the cool stone wall and took several deep breaths, fervently hoping she hadn’t caught some nasty bug she might pass onto Helena’s adorable twins at dinner.
As quickly as it had come on, the dizziness left. Once she steadied herself, she scanned the small chamber. One window, looking out onto the River Fisk, was opposite the door. The room was circular and in the center, a smaller circular structure made of stacked stone stood about waist high. It was open but a heavy iron grate covered the top to prevent anyone from falling into the pit.
Or getting out.
Anna shook her head as she peered into the dim dungeon. She shivered, hating to think about what else might have lived down there with the poor unfortunate souls who were thrown into the pit.
Like the warlord who had once been imprisoned below and was later rescued by the other Anna Campbell. The tour guide mentioned they had married. She hated to admit it, after all she’d long ago given up the idea romantic fantasies could actually happen, but the idea was quite appealing. It might be nice to be whisked into another time if only to experience for just a moment the kind of passion that must have existed between this guy and her namesake.
A sudden, loud bang echoed through the small chamber and the light abruptly dimmed. Her spine stiffened in fear and she whirled to find the door had closed.
She grabbed the heavy iron handle and yanked several times, straining her elbow. Nothing. Not even a creak to reward her for her efforts. With her fists, she pounded on the door and shouted for help. Still nothing. She placed her hands on her hips and studied the frame more closely, wondering if she had missed some other latch.
A man’s muffled, annoyed words bounced off the walls behind her and she turned again, carefully surveying the room. The sun dipped behind the clouds, cutting the little light available from the one window in half. Cold air slithered around her ankles, crawling up her body, and strange, almost putrid smells assaulted her nose.
The antique pendant swiftly heated against her chest, the temperature rising to the point it threatened to sear her skin. Before she could grab it, her vision blurred and her breath caught in her throat. She clawed desperately at the door behind her as a wave of dizziness sent her sprawling to the cold dirt floor.
Everything went black.
Chapter Two
Anna groaned and rolled onto her back. The plunking of dripping water reverberated off the walls. Her eyes quivered open and she carefully rubbed away the pain in the shoulde
r. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, the individual stones of the floor sharpened in her vision.
She pushed herself up and the color of the sky outside the window caught her attention. The purples and reds of sunset glowed back at her and she shook her head in disbelief. She must have been lying there for almost three hours. The sun wouldn’t be setting unless it was nearly seven o’clock.
She had to get out of here and down to Helena’s before her family started to worry. Cursing the disinterested tour guide for not checking his whole group had been accounted for, she grabbed the iron handle of the oak door and pulled herself to standing.
Dizziness washed over her again and she pressed her cheek against the cool, wooden surface of the door. Several deep breaths later, the room finally began to hold still. Anna pushed away from the door and took a deep breath before using as much of her strength as she could muster to yank it open.
Pain shot through her shoulder, radiating through her arm and up her neck.
Rubbing her arm, she furiously kicked the door and then pounded on it while shouting for help.
A low, throaty voice floated up from somewhere below. The little hairs on the back of her neck stood and she fell silent. She was not alone.
She slowly turned toward the dungeon pit, her eyes darting back and forth across the room. “Hello?” she tentatively called.
Galen whipped his head toward the mouth of the pit. Pounding…strange shuffling. Something out of the ordinary was definitely happening. Had his men already raised an army and begun a siege of the castle?
“Is someone up there?” he called.
He waited, his eyes transfixed on the iron grate above. Silence was the only thing that answered him.
Patience was not one of his virtues, especially since he was as ravenous and angry as a half-starved wolf. “Show yourself to me!” he commanded.
“Hello?” came a trembling voice.
The bluster fell out of him and his face cracked in a slow, confident smile for the first time in days. It was a woman, he was certain. This might be his chance to escape, if he could only convince the girl to help him.