What's that noise? I turned to find a tray of teacups waiting for the teapot on the kitchenette's bar.
Liam poured steaming water into the pot.
Warmth. And the sunset. I turned back to the window.
Blackness champed at the edge of my view.
Night creeping in. Invading. At least, it might blot out Jennifer's grip on Murdo. And her horrid grin.
Water gurgled, jingling against china.
"Tend to your tea. In a moment, I'll cut the light." The clink of a tray noted Liam placed the tea service on the table.
Fine. Hot tea with sugar might dull my whisky fog. Especially after I blurted at Jennifer. Geesh. I quickly added a spoonful of sugar and stirred a jangling spoon in my steamy liquid.
The warm cup handle promised wonderful heat. Like the way Jennifer rubbed Murdo's arm. Whore. I'd never forget this trip. Ever.
The lights shut off.
Thank goodness.
Black Liam sighed, long and loudly, then quieted. "Oh my love is like a red, red rose that's newly sprung in June. Oh my love is like the melody that's sweetly played in tune."
Robert Burns? Who disliked Burns? Probably Jennifer. She'd rather rub her teats against a male instead of listen to poetry. Pig. Gobbling up every hunky guy whose path she crossed.
The shrill clank of Black Liam's teacup against the tabletop indicated he'd sipped his tea.
Good idea. I sucked down a warm steamy.
Alcohol perfumed the steam.
Shame on him. Black definitely referred to an evil streak in Liam's personality. And the way my body hummed, that is good. Black Liam just elevated from pirate to saint level. Especially when I'd need to get smashed to sleep in the Chinese Bird Room.
"As fair art thou my bonnie lass, so deep in love am I." Liam continued. "And I will love thee still, my dear, till all the seas gang dry."
Again the teacup rang out against the tabletop. "Till all the seas gang dry, my dear, and the rocks melt with the sun. And I will love thee still, my dear, while the sands of life shall run."
Another pause in recitation required I sip a reverent moment from my spiked beverage as well. Just a sip. Not too much to dull my senses. Even more. Why do I want to chuckle?
Oh, the ambiance is more than sufficient for any sunset.
A low chuckle gurgled behind me.
Who ruined the perfect ambiance? I couldn't turn away from the serene vista though.
"I think Robert Burns had something there," Liam added. "Welcome to the gloaming."
****
I fought for a breath as the last sliver of molten sun slipped beyond the black horizon because Black Liam has to be a Ring Master. There's no other explanation for his recital. The words were for my benefit. Clarifying the connection between us through simple mythology. The setting sun was Lugh, the warrior, setting off on a journey to do a man's bidding. Just the way of life. The warrior would return to his love every dawn, bringing life to the land by stirring wind, warming everything on the earth, and filling all with hope. The ring would seal the conclusion.
Darkness, the eternal antagonist of Light and Time-Guardian Post-Modern alchemists, prevented me from viewing Black Liam's ring. I must get a good look at the ring.
Chapter 8
I'm confronting the skipper now that we've docked. Or, at least, get a look at his ring.
The maidens strolled down the hall, making way to the pier behind Black Liam.
I'd just protect the rear since Seers could come and go in a wink. I followed them along the pier.
"Wasn't this wonderful?" Pam cooed.
"Perfect," Katie answered.
The happiness in Katie's voice is good to hear. I continued across moonlit boards behind the milling females.
Guinevere paused, leaning against the rail to take more photos.
In the dark. The sneaky female.
The camera clicked. She turned, pointed the lens at me, and the gadget beeped again. A flash of light blinked everything away for a moment. Spots danced in my view like mischievous fairies.
Bloody Hell, the photographs. Perhaps the wanton maiden shouldn't take my picture. No Point of Gaelic Time Travel ever deal with that issue though. Maybe time-travel Code needed a little amending? I shrugged off the disconcerting twinge the vile vixen caused.
Guinevere grabbed my elbow. "Come on, Murdo. Let's get something to eat. I'm starving."
The wench pulled me down the creaking pier toward the maidens and Black Liam at the end of the decking.
The maidens shook hands with the captain. Light cast through the window of the boathouse's front door onto them as if they were the focus of some Renaissance painting. The ever-so-cautious Katie even hugged the man before stepping off toward the terrestrial cart.
Black Liam stepped rearward. "Don't forget to come back and see me, Katie. You're welcome any day, on any trip."
She turned, weak light from the doorway painting her exquisite smile. "I won't."
"Come work for me, lass." He waved. "No sense in you looking so sad. We'll look after you here."
Why the persuasion?
Katie laughed. "Don't tempt me." She walked onward to the vehicle.
What would an offer of work gain Black Liam? I tugged free from Guinevere's armhold.
She stepped up to shake Black Liam's hand. "The trip was amazing. Thank you."
"And you." Liam smiled, patting her shoulder.
Guinevere paused a moment with an approachable look on her face, blinked, turned, and headed for the maidens. Black Liam rolled his eyes at me.
Why the gesture? He must have grown tired of the slattern too. Now, for the opportunity to test the skipper with the Freemason's handshake. I thrust out a palm.
Liam stepped forward, extending a palm, slipping the two together appropriately while placing his side of his foot flush with mine.
The Masonic handshake.
A wicked smile stretched across Liam's face as pressed his body against mine, uniting our cheeks in the complex Masonic hearty embrace.
A Ring Master. I was right. The War Furies definitely had their proverbial hands in the oatcake jar.
"Katie's for you," the skipper whispered, patting my back.
A rush of intense possessiveness jolted my being.
My heart clenched as if squeezed with an iron fist.
The sign of a Ring Master receiving official orders about the assignment of his soul mate when a Druid and a Brother wed for eternity. Now? How can Katie be a Druid? She makes weapons for Conn's sake! Druids are forbidden to wield weapons to prevent unnecessary deaths along the timeline. Just who is Black Liam?
The captain withdrew, wearing a half-cocked grin. He extended a business card. "The High Priestess sent word. Call me if you need to. You're always welcome under my roof. Make certain to bring the lass along."
What of the High Priestess? We couldn't speak here. Not with the nosy females so close. I took the slick bit of stiff paper and studied the note.
Still warm, the card seemed real enough. And The Orders felt real. I focused on Liam's skewed smile. "My assignment?"
"Take care of her. 'Tis all I know." Liam turned and climbed the three steps to his door.
All was said. Done. It's not every day a Ring Master met his wife. My wife?
The old Ring Master turned the knob.
A Seer had to have contacted Black Liam, declared my assignment. My purpose.
The door clapped.
Shaking my thoughts back to the quiet boathouse.
"Come on, Murdo. I'll die if I don't get something to eat soon," Guinevere called.
Dealing with the pushy wench would only lead to trouble. Stoke my betrothed's jealousy. Time to precariously dance upon Time's grand tightrope.
****
Steering the car back along the moonlit road to Culcreuch Castle wasn't so awful. The outing on The Introspection had been wonderful. Maybe a little confusing. Blame that on the whisky. And the clown car is only slightly more helpful than a Scottish draught. Black
Liam must have known that. He's just so perfect.
The car's high beams illuminated the darkness more than my future though. I'd just found the perfect man. But Black Liam who is too old for a gal of twenty-two. Damn.
Jennifer's voice broke the silence. "Can you believe that dirty old man hitting on Katie the way he did? What a Lech."
"What?" Pam squawked.
Leave it to Princess Slut to tear down the sunset's ambiance. I scowled into the rearview mirror.
Pam raised her hands, her fingers curled yet flinching before the brunette.
Somehow, Pam didn't strangle Jennifer. Impossible.
"Todd told me his mother died two years ago. His father's been looking for a wife," Jennifer sneered and conspiratorially glared into my gaze.
Pam fidgeted behind the driver's seat. "Excuse me. How does that translate into Black Liam hitting on Katie?"
Liam had been a wonderful host. Jennifer has no room to badmouth him.
"My love is like a red, red rose." Jennifer waved a palm to complete the poem.
"I'm surprised you even know that much of a poem. And the poem was metaphorical, bonehead," Pam moaned.
"Metaphorical?" Jennifer sneered. "Please. The man was horny."
God help us. Pam would be imprisoned tomorrow if Jennifer didn't shut up.
"Only boneheads detect horn-y-ness," Pam sneered.
Murdo twisted in his squeaking seat.
Jennifer's curt expression immediately melted into a smile, sliding from Pam, to the rearview mirror, to rivet upon him where he sat in the front passenger's seat.
"Metaphorical in the sense each day the sun and earth mate," he timbered. "At sunset, the sun travels thousands of miles to reunite and enliven its lover at dawn. The elements of Burns' day, water, fire, earth, and air, all combined to give substance to life, spirit. All the same bound within night and day." Murdo stopped, simply falling silent.
"You know, I hadn't thought of it that way, but now that you mention it." Pam nodded her acknowledgement in the moonlight.
"If Murdo says so," Jennifer added.
"You're such a ho." Pam thrust her nose toward the dark tree trunks whisking by her window.
"A whore?" Jennifer snarled.
Murdo turned a solemn mask back to face the dashboard.
Who'd blame him? His example was priceless. The fascinating interpretation had gone in one ear and out the other in the backseat. I stared at the ghostly road beyond the steering wheel.
"Everywhere we stopped this month, you threw yourself at any man that showed the slightest interest in Katie or I," Pam thundered.
If only I could turn these ears off. Just try to ignore the heightening cat fight.
"No I did not. And you're engaged anyway. What do you care?"
"Look what you just did with Todd. Need I say more?"
"Todd invited us to assist."
"You couldn't stand that he was smiling at Katie. Admit it."
"That's not true."
"Now, you're a lying ho."
God. No more. I slammed on the brakes.
The tires squealed. Murdo jolted forward. The car rocked until the world stood motionless. The keys jangled their agreement with my choice of distractions. And then there was silence. Blessed freaking silence. The world is amazingly calm beyond the windshield. Not even a breeze jostled leaves as if nature sided with me too.
"How long are we going to sit here?" Pam asked calmly.
"Until you two figure out how to deal with each other in silence." I bit my cheek to keep from saying anything else. From behaving like the two nuts in the backseat.
"We're bickering again?" Pam politely inquired.
"Thank you so much for ruining my last wonderful moment of vacation." Now for a night in Hell. I slowly pressed the gas pedal.
The car rolled into the ephemeral shadows of nighttime.
"Just one more day." I kept my speed down after The Introspection's medicinal drinks. If the drive hadn't been so short on the way over, I'd have insisted one of the others drive. Rarely did one pass another vehicle on rural roads at night in Scotland though. And, luckily, Culcreuch Castle towered nearby. I'm in sore need of supper to disperse the whisky fog draping my thoughts.
Once parked beneath the castle's upturned spotlights with three other cars, we wormed our way down to the stone-lined dungeon, to where we sat beside a pile of flaming logs under a low arched ceiling.
"I'm famished," Jennifer declared.
"You eat more than any woman I've ever known." Pam hefted a black menu like a mirror she planned to use for tanning her neck. "And burn it off as quickly."
Must be the sex drive. Apparently, I don't have one.
The waiter smiled behind Murdo. The servant's crisp black pants and white shirt seemed stiff. "The roasted lamb is exceptional this evening."
Any man who could roll his "r" deserved a big tip. An even bigger one if he could get my sex drive burning off my ass.
"Hm." Jennifer opened her menu. "Not lamb." She snooped along the listings. "Chicken. I think I'm in need of chicken."
Pam slid her gaze up over the edge of the menu to meet mine, only to roll her eyes clockwise.
After a fair amount of hemming and hawing, everyone decided on roasted duck. The waiter reappeared with bread, butter, and chilled bottles of beer.
None too soon. Time to scare away ghosts. I grabbed a cold slick bottle.
"You're drinking a lot tonight," Pam noted, slathering butter on a piece of bread.
Did sobriety matter with phantoms afoot? I chugalugged the bottle's cold bitter beer, placed the empty container on the table, and wiped my mouth with the back of a hand. "I have to sleep in the haunted room."
"What?" Jennifer gasped, smacking both palms on the table.
Pam waved off Jennifer's exasperation and pointed a recalcitrant finger at me. "So you might hear a harp. What's so bad about that? Just think of it as a lullaby."
"What harp?" Jennifer begged.
Who will think when unconscious from drinking? I swallowed a warm swig of steaming hot tea that had miraculously appeared beside my plate. "Excuse me. The guy I saw today had a really big knife."
Murdo leaned my direction and patted my back, falling toward me.
Those lips. The twinkling blue eyes. The warmth and firmness of the gesture almost knocked me on the floor. Well, maybe the beer did. But I gripped the table's hard edge with both hands. "I'm glad someone is concerned."
"I have to sleep in the haunted room?" Jennifer squealed.
The white towel draped over the waiter's wrist shook in my periphery. "Oh, you've rented the Chinese Bird Room? What a treat."
"Ah." Jennifer squealed, leaning back in her chair as if she couldn't draw breath.
Pam averted her gaze to the roaring fire and scratched her head.
What needed to be said? Ghoulies and spooks. Oh freaking joy! I grabbed another helpful bottle and gulped down more beer.
Murdo rubbed his brow.
He can sleep with whomever he liked. A wise girl slept with booze bubbling in on hard long bottle when sleeping in a haunted castle. I leaned back and guzzled, gazing at the few reddish stones mortared into the ceiling.
How much beer would it take to make me sleep like a baby? A year socializing in Scotland had built up my tolerance for alcohol. And I'd have to drink to fall asleep without thinking about ghosts. Someone would have to put me to bed in diapers.
"You'll be miserable in the morning," Pam droned. "And you're driving."
Anything to survive the night. I slid my gaze back to the faces ringing the table where the three monkeys, see no evil, hear no evil, and drink no evil, had possessed my friends' faces.
Jennifer sat wide-eyed. Pam frowned. Murdo stared at the fire.
Right. Some friends. They didn't seem to care about my welfare. Only in my driving ability. And sleeping in a haunted castle. "Bring on the whisky," I commanded the waiter.
****
The night dragged on until I was fo
rced to watch Jennifer cling to Murdo's arm as walls whirred by me. We trailed down the hall toward our rooms, whore in check. Or whore headed for the bed. By the hold Jennifer had on Murdo's arm, someone had obviously decided to alter room assignments. "Slut," I growled.
"You better not be talking to me." Pam yanked a squeezing grip on my arm.
Where is Pam? At my side. Yes. There she is. I can't believe I have to help her to her room when she was just bitching about what I was drinking! Drunks. "Not you." I swatted at her knuckles. "Walk right. I can't hold you up after supper. And you worried I was drinking too much." I laughed at the irony.
Pam snickered. "Slut? Who then?"
Who? The hallway is empty save for the black-and-white photos lining the walls. Art forms. That required my attention. I'm too sleepy to stop and admire the art form though.
A yawn stretched my mouth wide.
Vacation sure is exhausting. Especially when a girl has to haul her drunk friend to bed.
"Now, you'll be just fine." Pam patted my arm and shoved me toward a door.
Whatever Pam was yammering about must be important. But Pam stumbled on a shoe and fell forward. Lord, how much had Pam drank? I reached out to push the ugly carpet-covered floor away.
Who chose this interesting frilly formal red-on-burgundy crest pattern? With a natural vegetation-type or flame sort of edge.
Something yanked my arm backward.
"Whoa there, little sister," Pam said, using her John Wayne accent.
Where is she? I found my footing and searched for the shoe. Pam didn't want to lose a shoe. Not on vacation. We're traveling light.
"What are you doing?" Pam snarled.
Isn't it obvious? Drunks! "Looking for your shoe."
"I'm wearing them. Come on." Pam pulled my arm, making the world spin. "God. The next time I hear you order whisky, forget it. I like you sober."
Whisky? I drank beer.
My stomach flopped.
Churned. Painfully. Oh no. I grabbed my gut.
Something roiled in my stomach like a huge jagged pocket of air. Like an anaconda living in there farted. Or something even grosser. My gut didn't like the sound of that. "I don't feel good."
"Christ," Pam shouted. "Get that door open."
The world spun. Lifted me up. Something picked me up. Hell. A ghost.
10 Timeless Heroes; A Time Travel Romance Boxed Set Page 87