BULL: MC ROMANCE (Forsaken Riders MC Romance Book 6)

by Samantha Leal

  She pulled a coat hanger out of a box next to her and started to scrape around in the thick dust. She could feel it dragging against something along the bottom and there was definitely something there. An object of some kind. She lay down flat on her stomach and held the cell phone in her teeth as she probed with one hand and moved the dust with the hanger. As she slowly dug and searched, she began to uncover a long glinting object and to her utter shock and amazement, the more of the dirt she moved, the more she realized what it was. She pulled herself up and sat back on her heels, looking down into the pit below.

  She couldn’t believe her eyes.

  It was a sword.

  ***

  Gwen reached down and pulled the sword free. It was heavy and ancient from the looks of it, and she shook as she held it in both hands and carried it into her bedroom. She lay it down on the floor next to the mattress and sat and stared at it. It was like nothing she had ever seen. It was well over three feet in length, and the steel was still intact and shone brightly as she wiped it down with the edge of her sleeve.

  “Wow,” she whispered. “This could be worth a fortune.”

  She knew as she looked at it that the sword was special. It wasn’t of this time, and it had been hidden for a reason, and now she was determined to find out why. As she studied the handle, she could see that it had a specific pattern stitched into the leather and what appeared to be the image of a flower.

  Gwen smiled. It was incredible. She could tell she held in her hands a huge piece of history.

  “Tomorrow,” she said aloud, “I’m going to take you to an antiques dealer and get you valued.”

  As she climbed back into bed, she couldn’t help but smile. Maybe her luck was finally changing after all.

  4.

  There was screaming all around her and the clashing of steel. Gwen rolled onto her side and tried to pull the pillow over her head, only to realize it wasn’t there. She grasped out above her, her eyes still clenched tight, but she could feel that it was bright where she was and more than anything, that she was outside.

  She rolled onto her back and opened her eyes. The bright sunlight hit her and she shielded herself from the sun’s glare.

  “What the hell,” she said as she got to her feet and looked around.

  She was in the middle of a forest, and the trees were high in the sky and skeletal, as if it were winter. She was cold. She wrapped her arms around herself and tried to keep warm.

  What is happening? she thought. Where am I?

  The sounds of screams and rough calls of men were filtering through the trees, and when she squinted she could see a group fighting out on an open plain. She stepped backwards quickly and ducked behind a trunk. She had no clue where she was but knew she must be dreaming. She rubbed her eyes and tried to wake herself up.

  Come on Gwen! Snap out of it, wake up!

  But when she reopened them, the men were still there, wearing armor and clashing swords and she was still in the forest.

  Her heart began to pound with terror, and it only intensified when she looked down and saw that she wasn’t in her pajamas, but a long, grubby smock. Her hair tumbled down her shoulders in thick waves and her feet were bare… and right there ahead of her on the ground, about the meter away, was the sword she had found in the apartment.

  She slid her back down the trunk of the tree and crawled forward, trying to stay out of sight. She picked up the sword and held it heavy in her hands. She was shaking, with no idea what she should do, and then she began to cry.

  As she sat there shivering in the forest, with the sounds of death and fighting behind her, she was about to give up and run when she suddenly heard the crunching of twigs ahead of her.

  She looked up to see a man standing there. A handsome man with armor and long brown hair, a bearded chin and a sash across his shoulder. He walked slowly towards her with wide eyes and stopped when he almost reached her toes.

  “What you doing here, Lassie?” he asked in a rough Scottish accent.

  Gwen blinked and stared up at him, unsure of what to say because she didn’t know the answer herself.

  “I, I don’t know…” she finally managed.

  “Your voice…” he said, recognizing that she was not local. “Where are you from?”

  “California,” she said. “But I live in DC.” She was hopeful he would have answers, but she just seemed to have confused him more.

  “Here,” he said, holding out his hand to help her to her feet.

  Gwen took it and stood up, still shaking. She looked over her shoulder at the small battle taking place on the field.

  “What’s happening?” she whispered.

  “Och, ignore them,” he laughed. “They’re just playing.”

  Gwen looked up at him like he was crazy. His smile faded as his eyes fixed on something behind Gwen.

  “Where did you get that?” he asked slowly, staring at her with caution.

  Gwen looked down to see he was looking at her sword.

  “I found it,” she said. “I found it in the basement of the apartment I’m staying in.”

  He didn’t seem to have a clue what she was talking about, but he bent down and picked up the sword in one hand. With the other, he scooped her up in his big muscly arm and threw her over his shoulder.

  “You’re coming back to the castle with me,” he said. “I’ve got someone who would like to talk to you.”

  Gwen gasped at his power as he began to stride out of the forest, and she wrapped her arms around his neck before hammering on his back and asking him to put her down.

  “Please!” she wailed. “I can walk!”

  “No time,” he said as he strode forward.

  Gwen tried to lift her head to look around and see what was happening and where she was, but as she bobbed along on his shoulder, she struggled to get a good view. His hands were so strong, they kept her gripped in place and her hair tumbled down his back. She could make out that they were in the wilderness somewhere. Somewhere cold and foreign. She was sure she could hear the clip-clop of horse’s hooves, and the more voices she heard, the more she became aware that they were all Scottish.

  Am I in Scotland? she thought, as she finally pushed her hands into his muscly back so she could look out ahead of her. Her mouth gaped open as she saw the view… The man was walking down a steep, grassy hill with her, towards the most incredible stone castle positioned on the edge of a calm, still loch.

  “Oh my goodness,” Gwen gasped, completely unable to believe what was happening. “Where am I?”

  The man smiled and slapped her lightly on the behind.

  “You’re at Urquhart Castle,” he said gruffly. “My home.”

  5.

  “Who are you?” Gwen asked as he set her down on the drawbridge that connected the hill to the castle. “Am I in Scotland?”

  The man laughed and took hold of her arm, pulling her forwards, across the drawbridge and into the castle walls.

  “My name is Andrew Urquhart,” he said. “And your name?”

  “Gwen,” she said. “But please tell me what’s happening here?”

  He ignored her and marched with her to the castle gates. She was still trembling, not really daring to speak in case she angered him or said the wrong thing. She knew that whatever was happening was out of her control, and she only had Andrew to protect her. She just hoped he would be on her side.

  ***

  The castle was amazing. She had never even been outside of the United States before, so seeing all of this ancient history was baffling to her. The more she saw, the more she knew she was no longer in her time. She couldn’t be sure how or why, but she had the distinct feeling it had something to do with the sword. It was like something she would watch on television. As Andrew led her into the castle and through different corridors and rooms, she began to relax. She could tell he wasn’t going to be hostile, and he seemed instantly protective over her.

  “I need you to meet my father,” he said sternly.
“He will be very interested in your sword.”

  “But it’s not mine,” she said with panic. “I found it, I told you that.”

  “You are different, Gwen, and I think you may be someone we have been waiting for.”

  Her heart began to race, and she found herself moving closer to him and hoping that he wasn’t about to feed her to a pack of wolves.

  ***

  They rounded the corner of a large stone hall and a pair of tall wooden doors stood in front of them.

  “My father is in there,” Andrew said as he slowed his pace and took hold of her hand. It was tiny in his and his skin was rough and manly. “You will be safe with me,” he said as he stared into her eyes. “I promise you that.”

  Gwen smiled at him, even though her fear was mounting. She still did not understand how she had come to be there, or why.

  As the doors creaked open to a grand dining hall, she saw a large man sat at the head of a long table, ripping into a full chicken with his bare hands and teeth. He glugged what appeared to be wine from a tankard and slammed it down on the table before guffawing, “Andrew! Sit my lad!”

  Andrew walked forward and Gwen followed meekly behind him. She peered around the side of Andrew’s huge shoulder and could see that his father’s eyes had fixed on the sword and his mouth was lolling open.

  “Is he here?” the father asked seriously.

  “Yes,” Andrew began, “but you mean she.”

  ***

  They welcomed her to their table and watched her with intrigued eyes. Gwen didn’t know what they wanted with her, or what on earth was happening. All she knew was that they viewed her as someone important.

  “I found her in the woods,” Andrew said. “She said her name is Gwen.”

  “Gwen,” his father repeated. “I always thought it would be a man.”

  “As did I,” confirmed Andrew. “But she said she found the sword and woke up here… it is too much of a coincidence for it not to be real?”

  “Yes,” his father nodded.

  “Gwen,” Andrew turned to face her. “Long ago, the head of our clan, my great, great grandfather, had this sword made. It served him well and became a good luck charm for our people. He was very attached to this sword, it never left his side, and when he died, it was buried with him…”

  Gwen watched his eyes fill with tears as he recounted the tale and she had the overwhelming urge to reach out and touch his hand to let him know it would be alright.

  “After his death, our clan was overtaken by our rivals, Clan Matheson, in a bloody battle where hundreds lost their lives… And our people believe it is because this very sword was not used in the fight. This sword is a symbol of our people, a talisman. It is pure luck, strength and honor… Without it, we are lost.”

  His eyes were glistening, his emotion and love for his clan powerful and abundant. He looked to his father, and his father nodded with a sealed smile.

  “A plan was forged to reclaim our castles and our land, and the Urquharts never went down without a good fight. But when we went to the tomb to unearth it, we found that it had already been taken,” Andrew continued. “It was a sign… the time was not right… we had to hold on and wait until the sword was returned.”

  Andrew reached out and grasped at a tankard before taking a huge gulp.

  His father continued. “We visited witches, oracles, women who would tell us when to strike… and they all said one thing.”

  “The sword will be returned to you, in many years,” Andrew recited. “By a messenger sent from afar. Take care of them.” Andrew’s eyes warmed as they fell on Gwen’s delicate face. “But we always thought it would be a man, a warrior who would help us rise again… We didn’t think for one moment that the messenger could be a woman.”

  “It is you, Gwen,” his father said. “You’ve brought it back to us and now we can finally reclaim what is ours…for good.”

  “But this castle,” Gwen began, “is this not yours?”

  “It is,” Andrew took hold of her hand. “But the land and all that surrounds it is not… And until we have full control of our land again, the Mathesons can continue to kill our people, control us and brutalize us. We need to fight and win. We need to retake our glory.”

  Gwen looked at the two men seated at the table with her, and although she had no clue as to how this could all be happening, she nodded and agreed to help them in any way she could.

  6.

  Andrew led her to a chamber and opened the door. Inside a fire was roaring in the hearth and the heat oozed from it and warmed her bones.

  “You are cold,” he said as he took his hand in hers. “Here, take this pelt.”

  He passed her the fur of a wolf and draped it around her shoulders. Gwen looked up at him and their eyes locked. He really was a very handsome man. There were centuries between them, but she had never felt more drawn to anyone before in her entire life. She smiled at Andrew and he smiled in return.

  “You will be safe here,” he whispered as he rubbed her shoulders. “We are keeping your arrival a secret. We have to keep you safe so we can return you to your own people when the time comes.”

  Gwen felt a wave of relief rush over her. Even though she wanted to get to know Andrew more, she didn’t think she would be cut out for life in the Scottish Highlands. She would have done anything to go back to her crappy apartment and curl up on the mattress on the floor.

  “Please do not leave this room,” he said as he reached up and touched her cheek. “I will send guards to watch over you, and you will be safe here.” He held onto her chin and stared deep into her eyes. “You really are a true beauty, Gwen.”

  Her heart began to hammer hard in her chest and her skin prickled. It had been such a long time since a man had looked at her with pure appreciation and longing. She couldn’t even remember the last time Chris had kissed her, never mind made her feel wanted and adored.

  “Andrew,” she whispered, “I’m afraid… I’m so far from home and I don’t think you understand… I am not from this time.”

  He took her hand in his and held it close to his heart.

  “I do understand,” he whispered. “And I will do everything I can to make sure you are returned.”

  He made his way to the chamber door and turned back to look at her. She watched the way he clenched his fists and his heavy chest lifted and fell as he breathed. She wanted to run at him, tear at his clothes and kiss him, but she knew that he had a mission and she couldn’t lose control. Andrew and his father had to do what was right for their clan. They had to fight the Mathesons and win back their land and their honor.

  “Sleep well, Gwen,” Andrew smiled at her before he unlocked the door and stepped out into the hallway. As he closed it behind him, she heard the heavy latches fall and lock behind him. She was alone in a castle and her head was swimming.

  She made her way over to the bed and crawled underneath the scratchy cover, wrapping herself tightly in the wolf pelt and closing her eyes.

  She thought back to the apartment and the sword. How had it even come to be there? Who had taken it all these years ago and managed to get it into a crumbling house in Georgetown? Could it have been political? Could someone in the US Government had something to do with it…? Washington DC was the capital of the country, after all, and who really knew what went on behind closed doors. The more she wracked her brains, the more she knew she would never find the answer. And what did it matter, anyway? She had been the chosen one… She had discovered the sword and somehow it had transported her back in time to 1600s. Suddenly a thought shot through her. Maybe one of the Mathesons didn’t steal the sword? What if an Urquhart did and they had placed it in the basement of the Georgetown house when it was built in the 1700s for safe keeping? It was certainly plausible… It easily could have been hidden there for all of that time.

  Wow, she thought, how did I become such a huge part of this history? Why me?

  Sheer dumb luck… she thought, that’s how… Maybe this is
my destiny… my fate…

  She sighed and felt the familiar pull of sleep clinging to her. She knew she had to rest. It had been a crazy day where nothing had truly made sense and her body and mind needed to recover. She pulled the covers up over her face and breathed in and out softly. Before she even knew what was happening, she was sound asleep.

  7.

  “Gwen,” Andrew whispered as he stroked her hair. “Gwen, it’s me.”

  She opened her eyes to see him looking down at her with a soft smile. She propped herself up on her elbows and looked around the room. The fire was now just embers and she shivered. Andrew noticed and rose to his feet to stoke the fire and throw on more logs. They crackled and the flames danced around the walls.

  “Tell me about the sword, Andrew…” Gwen said as she patted the bed next to her. “I feel so in the dark about all of this.”

  He crossed the room and sat down beside her. He held out her hand and began to trace the image of a flower on her palm.

  “Our symbol is a gillyflower,” he smiled. “That’s what was brandished on the handle… That’s how I knew it was ours.”

  “How do you think I came to have it?” she asked. “I am from a long time ahead in the future. My world is very different from this one… Why do you think it was sent back with me and not with another before this?”

  “Because it wasn’t safe,” he said with certainty. “We must have faith in the timing of things.”

  “I suppose to you the timing doesn’t make much difference… It just seems so strange that a person from the 1700s couldn’t have brought it back to you… Why me, and why 2015?”

  “2015?” His eyes were wide and shocked. “I can’t even imagine what it must be like.”