Arch Through Time: Books 1, 2 and 3: Scottish Time Travel Romances (Arch Through Time Collections)

by Katy Baker

  All she had to do was return to the church. All she had to do was abandon her friends, leave Andrew behind, forsake her new life.

  She bit her lip as tears threatened to fall. No, she wouldn't cry. After all, Andrew would shed no tears over her when she was gone, would he?

  That thought made her pause. When she was gone? Had she decided to leave them? Had she decided to follow Gretchen’s advice?

  "I need to go home," she said to herself. "So what am I waiting for?"

  She climbed off the bed and crossed to the small writing table under the window. She pulled out a piece of parchment and dipped the quill in the ink pot then hastily wrote a note to Mona, Annis, Dougie and Jamie, thanking them for all they’d done for her and saying goodbye. As she sealed it and placed it on top of the writing table she felt like a coward. She owed her friends more than a quickly scribbled note but if she faced them in person she wouldn’t have the strength to do what was needed.

  She closed the door quietly and stole through the castle on cat’s paws. She made her way to the stable and quickly saddled Snowflake, the placid mare she'd gotten used to riding. Nobody stopped her as she slipped through the gates and rode away from Dun Arnwick.

  ANDREW KNOCKED ON THE door and waited. His heart was hammering in his chest and he felt as nervous as a young lad. What if she was angry with him? What if she slammed the door in his face? What if she hit him twice as hard as she had the last time they’d spoken?

  All of that, he could deal with. All of it, he deserved. Whatever happened, he'd make sure she listened to him. He'd make sure she was left in no doubt about how he really felt about her.

  There was no answer so he knocked again.

  “Lucy? It’s Andrew. May I have a word with ye?”

  When there was no answer this time he turned the handle and pushed the door open. A candle burned on the mantelpiece showing the room was empty. Puzzled, Andrew stepped into the room. There was no sign of Lucy. He noticed a parchment sitting on the desk. He snatched it up, saw it was addressed to Mona and the others. Why would Lucy be leaving a note for them? Surely she could speak to them in the morning if she needed anything?

  He suddenly felt uneasy. Breaking the wax seal with his thumbnail he quickly unfolded the parchment and scanned through its contents. As he read the blood drained from his face. The hammering of his heart intensified as panic gripped him.

  She'd gone! Lucy had left!

  He spun on his heel and rushed through the door. He pelted along the corridors, through the Great Hall, across the bailey and into the stable. Sure enough, Snowflake was gone. Andrew stared at the empty stable, his breath turning ragged as the full import of what he was seeing sank in.

  Lucy's note hadn't mentioned where she’d gone. Only that she was going home.

  He’d lost her. Oh, Lord help him, he’d lost her!

  He heard footsteps and Ewan suddenly burst into the stable, Gretchen a step behind.

  "What's going on?" Ewan asked. "I saw ye pelting across the bailey from our chamber window.”

  Andrew gestured helplessly to the empty stable. “She’s gone. Lucy’s gone.”

  Gretchen gave a little yelp, her hand flying to her mouth. "Oh my God!" She cried. "This is all my fault! I had no idea what was going on between the two of you until Ewan told me just now! If I had I wouldn't have said what I did!"

  “What do ye mean?" Andrew said, turning to Gretchen. "What did ye say to Lucy?"

  "I told her that if she wants to get home she has to go to the place where she first came through. I'm so sorry, Andrew! This is all my fault!"

  Andrew shook his head. "It is nay yer fault, Lady Gretchen. If I hadnae been so foolish this wouldnae have happened. But ye must tell me, what do ye mean by ‘the place where ye first come through’?"

  "She said it was a church. A small white church. That's where she’ll be heading if she's trying to get home."

  Lady Gretchen's words didn't make any sense to him. How could a church take ye home? But he didn't have time to question her now. He knew what church Lucy had been referring to—the one where he'd first encountered her all that time ago. He threw a saddle over Firefly’s back and led him from the stable.

  “I'll come with ye," Ewan said.

  "Nay," Andrew answered. "This is my mistake. It's up to me to sort it out. Please tell Dougie and Mona what's happened. I'll be back as soon as I can."

  Ewan nodded and stepped back. He put his arm around his wife's shoulders and the two of them watched as Andrew set his heels to the horse’s flanks and sent him galloping through the gate.

  He would find Lucy, he vowed to himself. He would find her and bring her home with him. To where she belonged.

  IT WAS A WARM, CLEAR night. The sun had finally sunk behind the ocean but it was still light enough to ride by. Lucy was heartily grateful for this fact as she’d left the castle in such a hurry she'd given little thought to how she would find the way. In fact, it turned out to be relatively easy. On her first ride to Dun Arnwick with Andrew they had followed the coast northwards on a well-worn track. So now she just followed the same track south, trusting that she would eventually find what she needed.

  If she had not been driven by such a burning need, she might have even enjoyed the ride. The air felt clean and fresh in her lungs and the soft sighing of the sea was a soothing melody. Yet Lucy barely noticed.

  A mixture of grief and anticipation filled her mind. Grief at what she was leaving behind but a sense of relief that she’d finally solved the mystery of how to get home and would soon be back in her own time where things made sense.

  Her riding had improved in her time here and so she dared to kick the horse into a canter along the path. In this fashion it seemed to take no time at all before she spotted a small white building in the distance. It soon resolved itself into the tiny church where she’d first appeared in this time. She pulled the horse to a halt outside the door and then slid from the saddle.

  The windows were dark and the place looked empty but the door was unlocked. Lucy let herself inside. It took a little while for her eyes to adjust to the gloom inside but when they did she was greeted by the same room that she first appeared in. The window stood at one end, the colors of the stained glass muted by the darkness. Rows of seats filled the space in front of the altar.

  A figure sat in one of them.

  Lucy yelped, her hands flying to her mouth. Her heart all but leapt into her throat.

  The figure turned. “Whatever is the matter, dearie?” said a familiar voice.

  Lucy’s mouth dropped open. She took a few tentative steps closer. Sure enough, Irene MacAskill was sitting there watching Lucy with a smile on her face.

  “You!” Lucy cried. “You’re here!”

  “Where would ye expect me to be, lass?”

  “Oh, I don’t know!” Lucy retorted, anger flaring. “Under a rock? At the bottom of the sea? Anywhere but where I went looking!”

  Irene cocked her head. “Ye seem a little distraught, lass.”

  “Do I? Yes, I suppose I do. Maybe that has something to do with you bringing me to this freaking time and abandoning me!”

  “Abandoning ye? I did nay such thing. Didnae I provide ye with everything ye needed? A home? Friends?” She leaned forward and her eyes twinkled. “Love? What more could a person want?”

  “I...” Lucy trailed off. Talking to this woman was as infuriating as ever. “You never asked my permission!” Lucy said. “You kidnapped me.”

  Irene MacAskill pursed her lips. “Are ye sure about that, lass? I seem to remember asking if ye wanted a chance to find yer heart’s desire. And I seem to remember ye agreeing to it.”

  “Yes, but I never thought that would mean traveling through time!”

  “Ah, I see. Ye mean ye wanted everything I offered but didnae want to take any of the risks? Things rarely work that way, my dear. To have anything worth having ye need to pay the price.”

  Lucy opened her mouth and closed it again. “But...bu
t...”

  “And didnae ye find exactly what it was ye were looking for?”

  An image of Andrew’s face flashed in Lucy’s mind. She dashed it away mercilessly.

  “Yeah, well, things didn’t exactly work out.”

  Irene gazed at her steadily. “That remains to be seen.”

  “Stop it!” Lucy snapped. “No more of your cryptic remarks. I guess you know why I’m here?”

  “Ye want to go home.”

  “Yes. I’m done. Send me home. Now.” Then, realizing she was being snappy and rude she added, “Please?”

  Irene MacAskill nodded. “Very well.”

  Lucy blinked. “What? Just like that?”

  “There is always a choice, Lucy Jennings. It seems ye have made yers. This way.”

  She stood and made her way over to the great window. Hesitantly, Lucy went to stand by her side. The diminutive woman barely came to her shoulder but even so, her presence seemed to tower over Lucy.

  “Just walk through the arch and ye will be home, Lucy Jennings,” Irene said. She smiled and patted Lucy’s arm. “Yer life will be as ye left it.”

  Lucy hesitated. That was it? With a few short strides she could leave this behind and go home? Back to her old life?

  Do I want to go back to my old life? she thought suddenly. Do I want to leave all this behind?

  Then Andrew’s last words to her echoed in her mind and her heart hardened. There’s no other way, she thought. Goodbye, Dougie. Goodbye, Mona. Goodbye, Annis and Jamie.

  Goodbye Andrew.

  Drawing in a deep breath, she walked towards the window. As she touched the glass it shimmered like heat haze.

  Lucy stepped through.

  ANDREW RODE LIKE HE had the Devil snapping at his heels. It was dark now with only a sliver of a moon in the sky. He knew it was dangerous to ride so fast in the darkness but he had to take the risk. When the small white church finally came into view he rode right up to the door, pulling Firefly to a halt in a shower of mud and flinging himself from the saddle before the beast had even come to a stop.

  He burst through the door, sending it crashing into the wall. "Lucy!"

  Somebody had lit a single candle that burned on the altar, revealing the small room inside. Andrew looked around wildly but there was no sign of Lucy. Instead, Irene MacAskill was standing by the altar, hands clasped in front of her, gazing at him patiently as if she'd been waiting for him to arrive.

  "Where is she?" Andrew demanded, striding across the room towards her. "Where is Lucy?"

  "Exactly where she wanted to be, my lad," Irene replied.

  "I'm in no mood for yer riddles, woman," Andrew snapped. "Where is she? I was told she would be here."

  "She was. But now she's gone."

  "Gone where?"

  "Home. Back to her own time."

  Andrew froze, staring at the old woman in shock. "Her own time? What, by all that's holy, is that supposed to mean?"

  The smile that crossed Irene MacAskill's face was sad. "Have ye not realized by now that she's a time traveler? She came here to find her heart's desire and to save a life. It seems she found and lost what she most desired but succeeded in saving a life. Do ye know whose life that was, Andrew Harris?"

  Andrew didn't have time for this. “Just tell me where she’s gone, curse ye!”

  “I’ve already told ye,” Irene sighed. “But I can see ye willnae believe unless ye see with yer own eyes. Look.” She pointed to the window above the altar.

  It began to shimmer like heat haze over a bonfire. Andrew’s eyes widened as the shimmering coalesced into images. He saw tall buildings, metal wagons moving in lanes at incredible speeds, metal contraptions flying in the sky like birds.

  “What trickery is this?” he cried.

  “No trickery. The truth. The future.”

  Andrew backed away. “Are ye a witch? Why have ye shown me this?”

  “I’m no witch, Andrew Harris, as ye well know. Why have I shown ye this? To convince ye of the truth. Would ye believe me about Lucy time-traveling otherwise? So I ask ye again: do ye know whose life she saved?”

  Andrew opened his mouth to snap an angry retort at the woman but the look on her face stopped him. Her eyes were like spears, pinning him to the spot. The question hung in the air between them and Andrew suddenly knew the answer.

  "My life," he whispered. "Lucy saved my life. She stopped me from spiraling into darkness and taking my clan with me."

  Irene nodded slowly. "There are some events that canna be allowed to happen. The destruction of Clan Harris was such an event. There is too much potential in ye, Andrew Harris, to let ye destroy yerself in guilt."

  "And her heart's desire?" Andrew asked. "The thing she found and lost? What was that?"

  Irene MacAskill wagged a finger at him. "Dinna play the fool with me, Andrew Harris. Ye know very well what that was. Ye know what ye and Lucy forged together."

  The words pierced Andrew to the quick. His heart cried out in anguish. How had he made such a mess of things? How had he been such a blind fool?

  “Send me to her,” he said suddenly. “Ye have the power of such things do ye not? I care not where or when she may be. Send me to her. Please.”

  Irene raised an eyebrow. "Ye would leave yer own time for her?"

  "Aye. I'd leave everything for her. She is my love. My life. My home is wherever she is."

  Irene watched him for what felt an age. Andrew got the distinct impression he was being weighed on a set of scales. Andrew held his breath, terrified that Irene would refuse him.

  But finally she nodded. "Mayhap there is a chance after all." She turned and pointed at the large stained glass window that filled the wall. "Ye must pass through the arch. It is the only way to travel to her time."

  Andrew eyed the window warily. "That's made of glass. How am I supposed to pass through that, woman?"

  "Have faith, Andrew Harris. Be warned, her time is very different to yers. There will be dangers and threats and wonders and miracles of which ye can only dream."

  "I dinna care," he answered her. "I dinna care whether this archway will transport me to paradise or into the burning depths of Hell. Wherever Lucy has gone, I will go."

  Irene smiled and patted his shoulder. "Ye have become a fine man, Andrew Harris. And if ye can win Lucy Jennings back to yer side, ye will become greater still. Ye are part of one another and only by finding that part can either of ye be truly whole."

  She stepped aside and Andrew looked up at the window. It seemed pretty solid to him. He licked his lips nervously then stepped forward. He laid his palms flat against the glass and realized that it was mere illusion. His hands sank into it as though it was made of water. A worm of fear wriggled in Andrew's belly but he choked it mercilessly. Wherever Lucy is, I will go, he said to himself. No matter where that will take me.

  Without looking back, Andrew stepped through.

  Chapter 18

  LUCY OPENED HER EYES. An archway of trellis work loomed over her. She blinked. This certainly wasn't the ruined church where she'd first gone back in time. Confused, she pushed herself into a sitting position and looked around. She was on a round wooden platform with a railing circling it. Three steps led down onto a wide, flat grassed area set with rows upon rows of empty deckchairs.

  Lucy didn't move for a moment, giving her brain a chance to catch up with events. Where was she? What had Irene MacAskill done this time?

  She thought back to her last conversation with the woman. I want to go home! Lucy had yelled. And Irene MacAskill had agreed.

  Home, Lucy thought. That's what I asked for. Not just my own time but my home as well.

  Could it be? Could Irene have sent her back to the US?

  She looked around slowly and then climbed unsteadily to her feet. Something about this place seemed familiar. Beyond the rows of seats lay only darkness but past this she spotted headlights moving on the freeway. To her left glimmered the lights of the city and from that direction she heard the
rumble of engines, the blaring of horns and the general hubbub of the twenty-first century.

  Then she had it.

  The bandstand! she thought. I'm in the bandstand in Green Park! She'd played here a few times when she was little.

  Her knees suddenly went weak with relief and she sagged, grabbing the railing to hold herself up. Irene MacAskill had been as good as her word. She'd sent Lucy home.

  On shaky legs she made her way down the wooden steps and across the lawn. Coming to a path lit with streetlamps she turned right, making her steady way home. As she wove through the streets she felt a little overwhelmed by the busyness of it all. Cars zoomed past her on the road. Bars and restaurants blared music into the night. Groups of people, laughing and joking, swept down the sidewalk, paying her no heed.

  Nothing had changed whilst she'd been away. And yet, it felt oddly alien,

  Don't be stupid, she said to herself. You'll soon get used to it again. After all, isn't this what you wanted?

  She turned into her road and paused in front of her house. Uncle Nathan's beat-up old sedan was parked in the driveway, at odds with Aunt Helen's neat flower beds. Lucy made her way up the steps to the porch and paused. Through the window she spied the kitchen. Uncle Nathan sat in his customary place, some contraption lying on the kitchen table in front of him. It looked to Lucy like a lawnmower engine.

  Aunt Helen was bustling around the kitchen. She waved a hand at Uncle Nathan's contraption and said something Lucy couldn't quite make out. Uncle Nathan obediently placed the engine on the floor by his feet.

  Lucy smiled to herself. Some things would never change. Some things she would never want to change. A surge of emotion swelled Lucy's heart. Oh, how she'd missed them.

  She paused by the door, realizing she no longer had her key. That was still somewhere in Scotland with the rest of her stuff. And, she realized, she was wearing a sixteenth century gown. How was she going to explain this away? In fact, how would she explain any of this? Where would she even start?