Timeless Desire

by Cready, Gwyn

  With water running from her burning eye, Panna was led behind Jamie through the bowels of the castle into the blinding daylight of the courtyard and down a rise to the animal pens. There they were shoved past pigs voicing irritated squeals into a small wooden structure stacked high with stinking piles of straw.

  One of the guards searched Jamie while another grabbed the books from her arms. “A lot of good they will do you here.” He tucked the books under his arm. “What do you have in your pockets?” He reached for her again, taking a generous feel of her ass. “Wait, what’s this?” He pulled out the handful of animals from Noah’s ark and laughed. “And you two will be the pair of pigs.” He tossed the animals onto the floor and crushed them with his boot. Then the guards left, and the lock was fastened behind them.

  Jamie pulled her into his arms. “Did he hurt you?” He lifted her chin and winced at the sight of her throbbing eye. “Oh, God, I’ve failed you. I can bear everything else but not that.”

  “No,” she said. “If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t be in this mess.”

  “Satisfying as it may be, twill do us no good to sit here excusing each other’s blame. We must look for a way to escape.” He walked the tiny perimeter, quietly pressing his shoulder against the wall as he moved. “As sturdy as a fort,” he said.

  Panna dropped to her knees, the crushed animals bringing her inexplicably to tears. Only a fox remained unbroken. She picked it up. “Oh, Jamie.”

  “Come.” He helped her up and guided her to a box with a solid lid, then sat down and pulled her onto his lap.

  “Your grandfather surprised me,” she said. “I had thought perhaps . . .”

  “I know.” He tucked her head into the curve of his neck.

  “He even joked with me about my name.”

  “He sways with the wind. Today’s wind was a strong gust away from compromise.”

  She ran her hand along his cheek. “Everyone has abandoned you. And you don’t deserve it.”

  “You haven’t abandoned me, Panna. You came back for me twice.”

  “Lord, what sort of a box have I opened? Your grandfather was right: I am like my namesake. I should—Oh, my God! My namesake!” She jumped up. “Get up! Get up!”

  When he stood, she tried to lift the lid, but it was locked. “Why would a box in a pig house be locked?”

  “I don’t know.” Jamie gave the lock a calculated kick and it dropped into the mud.

  Panna pulled open the lid and found . . . nothing.

  “There’s nothing in here.”

  “What did you expect?” Jamie asked.

  “I don’t know. ‘Do you see the box of trouble you have opened here? See if you can do the same thing there.’ There was just something about the way Hector looked at me when he said it.”

  Jamie’s brows went up and he got on a knee, feeling along the bottom of the box. “There’s a finger hole at each end.”

  “A what?”

  He didn’t bother to explain. Instead, he pulled the bottom loose and handed it to her. “There’s a ladder!” he whispered. “It goes to a tunnel!”

  He picked up the lock. “Go! As quickly as you can.”

  She slipped the fox in her pocket and stepped into the box. It was barely wide enough for her shoulders, but she was able to find a foothold and descend into the darkness below. Jamie followed, carefully closing the lid and replacing the floor as he went.

  The passageway smelled of rotten food and dirt, and was so narrow that Panna had to turn sideways to move forward.

  “Where does it go, do you think?”

  “If I know a Scot, and I do, to a store of whisky and, I hope, a door to the outside.”

  Jamie was right on both counts. After at least a hundred feet of pitch darkness and cobwebs, they found themselves in a tiny storeroom filled with barrels and lit only by the light seeping in from a trapdoor in the ceiling. A ladder leaned against the wall below the trapdoor.

  “Lord,” Jamie said, taking a deep sniff. “This is fine whisky. Tis a shame we can’t take some.”

  “Perhaps you and your grandfather will be able to share a glass someday. He saved you, Jamie.”

  He nodded. “Saved us.”

  “It was you. He has no other family.”

  “And that’s the reason he didn’t speak for me. If he had spoken up—”

  “They wouldn’t have trusted him,” she said. “He was able to send us to the pig house because they thought he was on their side.”

  Jamie grinned. “Damned canny Scot.”

  Panna began up the ladder.

  “Ah, ah, ah.” He caught her arm. “On this end I go first. We don’t know what’s out there.”

  She let him lead. He removed the door in the ceiling, just as he had on the other end, and a load of dirt tumbled onto her head. He gave her a sheepish look. “My apologies. But the news is good: We seem to be in the middle of a stand of oaks.”

  He helped her out. Nunquam was visible through the trees. They were within shouting distance of the gates, which sent fingers of fear walking down her spine.

  “Where’s Clare?” she whispered.

  “A mile down the Edinburgh road, which luckily”—he gave the shadows a quick look—“is in the opposite direction, right over that hill.”

  They stole through the trees, and every crack of twig underneath their feet made Panna start. At one point a distant dog barked, and she expected a pack of hounds to come bounding into view, followed by several hundred clansmen with swords. Jamie insisted on keeping off the road—wisely, she had no doubt—but the path through the trees was hard on her kitten-heeled mules. This Three Musketeers stuff was definitely losing its shine.

  And yet, that would be what she was choosing if she decided to remain with Jamie in his own era. For the first time since he’d told her she couldn’t come back if she returned to the twenty-first century once more, she had a chance to think about what that might mean.

  Her parents were dead, but her brothers were still alive and would be for many years. Could she go without seeing them and cheering their children from the sidelines?

  The sidelines.

  That’s what it would be. She would not remarry. She knew that in the core of her being. Whatever she’d been thinking when she agreed to marry Jamie, her feelings were very different now. That was his ring on her finger, and she would hold their vows sacred, even if three hundred years separated them. Which would mean she would never have a child if she returned, or make a family as her mother had done, or die surrounded by her children and grandchildren. She would work at the library and be the good aunt and live at the margins of other people’s lives. Could she deny herself the profound joy of intimate love and a family she might enjoy if she stayed here, in the past? Perhaps more important, could she deny that to Jamie?

  “You’ve become quiet,” Jamie said.

  “I’ve been thinking about you.”

  He squeezed her hand and smiled.

  “I don’t want to leave you,” she said.

  “I know it. Oh, lass, I do know it.”

  AND KNOW IT HE DID. WHICH made every moment they shared infinitely precious to him. He had taken a vow to protect her, and until she was safely out of Scotland, he could not rest. Out of Scotland and, if she would agree to it, out of England as well.

  He would lose everything. Once that idea would have destroyed him, but he’d won something more important than money or glory or even the acknowledgment of his father. He’d won the love of a remarkable woman. And he loved her in return. For the first time in his life, he belonged to someone, which made everything else seem inconsequential.

  The call of a nightingale split the morning air.

  He paused, and Panna frowned. “What?”

  He shook his head and whistled the call in return.

  The sound of footsteps came through the forest, and in a moment Clare came into view with two horses on a lead. He bounded toward Jamie. “There isn’t much time, sir. Lord Adderly has issu
ed a warrant for your arrest. Men are gathering at the ferry crossing.”

  Jamie snorted. “Did they think they could take me by storming Nunquam?”

  “Perhaps they were counting on your grandfather to hand you over obligingly.” Clare smiled. “I myself would have placed money on it.”

  Jamie looked at Panna. Hector had surprised them all.

  “How did your plea to the council go?” Clare asked.

  “Poorly. You’d have thought an English spy had stolen into their midst.”

  Clare didn’t laugh. He could see the kernel of truth in Jamie’s eyes. “What happened?”

  Jamie sighed. “A sentence of hanging. Though it wasn’t much of a trial.”

  Clare’s eyes widened. “How did you—”

  “We found an escape tunnel, courtesy of my grandfather.”

  Clare nodded approvingly. “Blood is thick.”

  “And surprising,” Jamie said. “I’m glad to know I still have a few allies left.” He thumped Clare on the back. “I have friends in Savoy, near Turin. Whatever the state of my reputation here, I know I can always find work as a soldier there.”

  “How can I help? Can I deliver Miss Kennedy somewhere for you?”

  Jamie smiled. “Miss Kennedy has taken a new name, Clare. She is Mrs. Bridgewater now.”

  Panna held up her hand to show off the ring, and Clare’s face split into a lopsided grin. He gave her a courtly bow. “Best wishes for your happiness, milady.”

  “She will need them,” Jamie said with a sigh. “Tis rather an unlucky alliance at this point.”

  Panna scoffed, and he luxuriated in the feel of her arm around his waist.

  “You got married, Captain Bridgewater?”

  Jamie turned. He hadn’t seen Clare’s companion, who had been standing quietly behind one of the trees.

  “Thomas!” he exclaimed. “How are you?” The boy’s arm was in a sling, and he stepped toward Panna, eager to get a look at the ring.

  “Better, sir, thank you. The surgeon says I shall have the use of it again within a month or so.”

  “Though he is not to play hoops with the sling or climb any trees,” Clare said sternly, and Thomas, who had evidently not been as attentive to the surgeon’s wishes as he should have, kept his eyes averted.

  “It’s as big as a beetle,” the boy exclaimed, admiring the emerald.

  “I told him I thought it looked like one of the hills of Cumbria,” Panna said.

  “Oh, I beg your pardon. Panna, this is Thomas Heatherton. He is one of the rebels.”

  Panna smiled. “I believe I recall you speaking to the earl about him.” She shook Thomas’s hand.

  Thomas scratched his nose. “The surgeon also told me to tell you he is glad for a broken bone now and then—that he can do without the pistol and knife wounds that make up your usual custom.”

  “That’s what he said, is it?” Jamie chuckled, then pulled several coins from his pocket and put them in Thomas’s hand. “Be sure he gets these, will you?”

  The boy nodded.

  “I am glad to see you in one piece. The rebels need you.” He tousled the boy’s hair.

  “Thank you, sir. It was kind of you to come for me.”

  “Thomas was the one who found out about the warrant,” Clare said.

  “Oh?” Jamie knelt beside Thomas.

  “Twasn’t me, of course,” Thomas said. “Clare says I must keep my distance from Lord Adderly and his men for a bit. Twas my sister, Rose. I had her run behind the line of children following the laundry maids from the castle to the river. Nancy, the head maid, was telling the other maids what she’d overheard. Lord Adderly is very particular about his shirts, you see, and the one he’d taken off when he arrived this morning was bloody. Nancy was telling Jane, the newest maid, how to get the stains out when Nancy overheard his lordship telling his secretary to draft a warrant for your arrest. Nancy pretended not to hear, of course—the best way to keep hearing more, she said to the other maids—and hurried out with Jane.”

  “I see. Well, remind me to speak to Nancy about her impertinence the next time I see her.”

  “He called you a bloody bastard,” Thomas said matter-offactly, then looked at the ground and reddened. “I probably shouldn’t repeat what he said about Mrs. Bridgewater.”

  Jamie cleared his throat. “No. Probably not. Well, please thank Rose for me. How old is she now?”

  “Six.”

  Jamie shook his head. “And please split this between you, will you?” He slipped another coin into the boy’s hand. He turned to the horses. “Where did you get this one, Clare?”

  “Well, the one is mine, of course. As to the other . . . well, let us just say I hope the army doesn’t do a close count of its beasts anytime soon.”

  Jamie laughed. The horse was a beautiful chestnut-brown mare with lively eyes. She would be an excellent ride.

  “What will you do?” Clare asked.

  “We’ll rent a boat to cross the Firth near Gretna,” Jamie said. “That way we avoid the ferry as well as the troops stationed in the town. From there we shall go to Whitehaven for a ship to Dublin, and from there to Amsterdam and on to Savoy.”

  Clare pursed his lips, considering.

  “You’ll go though Cumbria?”

  Bridgewater looked at Panna. Clare was right. Though Whitehaven was the nearest port of sufficient size to find a ship on which they could book passage, they would have to travel within a few miles of Bridgewater’s castle to get there. How much risk was he willing to take?

  “Whitehaven is closer,” Jamie said at last. “And there are ways to avoid the soldiers. I think we’ll do all right.”

  Clare gave him a quick nod.

  “What I need you to do,” Jamie said, “is get to the rebels. I don’t know what Adderly has planned nor whether he intends to follow the warrant for my arrest with additional warrants for them. The rebels need to be prepared, especially if the clans are going to attack the army.”

  “The clans are going to attack?” Clare paled. “They’ll be slaughtered.”

  “Aye.” Bridgewater felt his own helplessness. “I have done all I can do. All we wanted was peace. We might as well have been trying to harvest the stars.”

  “You did your best, Jamie. We all did.” He thrust out his hand.

  Bridgewater wavered slightly. He would be saying goodbye to the one man he could call his friend. And they would likely never see each other again.

  The handshake turned into a rough hug.

  “If you are in want of money,” Clare said, when they broke apart, “I have a wee bit—”

  “You are kind. I put some money aside in Whitehaven for just this sort of thing. Not a lot, but enough to get us to Savoy.”

  Clare climbed aboard his horse, and Bridgewater turned to Thomas.

  “You’re a brave lad. You do the rebels honor. I want you to find your sister and take her back to your father’s house in St. Cadoc. For the next few days the borderlands will be no place for children.”

  “But, sir—”

  “My orders. You are too valuable a spy to lose in a foolhardy battle. Promise me.”

  The boy looked down, petulant. “I promise.”

  “Thomas?” Panna said.

  The boy raised his eyes. “Aye, m’um.”

  “I shall never be able to thank you enough for what you’ve done for Jamie and for me. You’ve helped save our lives. I am honored to have made your acquaintance.” She shook his hand solemnly, and his eyes lit with pride.

  Clare took the lad’s good arm and pulled him into the saddle behind him.

  Bridgewater met Panna’s gaze. She nodded. It was time to leave.

  He helped her onto the horse and mounted behind her. This would do until he could he could get them to Whitehaven.

  “Good luck.” Clare geed his horse to a trot. “And congratulations on winning milady’s hand.”

  I have won it, he thought proudly. She had come to him, against all odds. She had ag
reed to marry him, against all odds. And then she had told him she loved him, against all odds. He would never be as happy as he was this very moment, and if this was all he was ever given, it would be enough.

  When Clare and Thomas disappeared into the woods, Bridgewater brought his arms around Panna’s waist and flicked the reins. “I hope you like climbing. The way we’ll be traveling, there will be no avoiding Hadrian’s Wall.”

  “I like anything with you.”

  WITHIN AN HOUR THEY HAD REACHED Gretna, near the eastern tip of the Solway Firth. Another hour after that they were back in England, angling west again, although Jaime was taking care to stay off the roads. Perhaps it would have been safer to avoid Cumbria altogether and catch a ship at Tynemouth on the North Sea, but his stash of money was in Whitehaven, and unfortunately they could not survive on love alone.

  Panna had been unusually quiet for the last quarter hour, though he could hardly blame her. He had been putting this off, but he knew he could not delay further. He pulled the horse to a stop, then climbed down and took her hand.

  “I do not take your accompaniment for granted. Whatever I said back there to Clare, I do not assume that the voyage upon which I am about to embark includes you.” She opened her mouth to speak and he stopped her. “Please,” he said. “Let me finish. I have asked you to give up your family and friends, your library, and everything you know about the world. No one should have to do that. I have lived without a family, without anyone, for so long. I would never wish it on someone else. I love you, Panna, but I will get you to that chapel if that is what you choose.”

  Her face was brimming with emotion, and she clasped his hand more tightly. “Would you come to the future with me?” she asked.

  He blinked. The thought had not crossed his mind, perhaps because he had an obscure fear of knowing what the future held or perhaps because there was a part of him that still didn’t quite believe such travel was possible.

  “I . . .”

  Her eyes clouded. “If you do not wish it—”

  “No!” he cried. “No. I would happily accompany you. Do you think I . . . What I mean to say is, do you think there’s a place for a soldier like me in your time?”

  She broke into a tender smile. “Unfortunately, there is. Oh, Jamie! You’d come to my time? There are so many things I want to show you!”