10 Timeless Heroes; A Time Travel Romance Boxed Set

by P. L. Parker, Beth Trissel, L. L. Muir, Skhye Moncrief, Sky Purington, Nancy Lee Badger, Caroline Clemmons, Bess McBride, Donna Michaels

  “I too only knew you when old,” Stephen concurred.

  “Aye,” Alan agreed.

  “It had to be the proximity of this Defiance then. Mildred and I were standing at the foot of another Defiance. The last of the MacLeod’s gone.”

  Alan grumbled. “Bloody MacLeod’s. Ever a thorn.”

  Mildred murmured, “Then you will age after all, Adlin.”

  He looked at her warmly. “‘Twas always a matter of time, and of course, finding my true love.”

  Caitriona gave the satchel of rings to Adlin and told him of the prophecy. “You only told me so much though, Adlin. ‘Twas our hope you can fill in the rest but now…”

  “Now you realize I might be too young to know.” Adlin poured its contents into his palm and for a brief flicker it appeared he wore white robes. As soon as the vision was there it vanished and he once more wore the MacLomain tartan. His voice rasped when he said, “‘Tis indeed the work of Fionn.” His curious gaze went from Caitriona to Alan. “And both of you. The passion formed. The love. Ancient magic.” Adlin fisted the rings and closed his eyes. “Someone lost. Someone found. And someone made.”

  Alan felt a chill ripple through him and he whispered, “Aye. To save the MacLomains.”

  Adlin turned, deep in thought. “And how does my clan fare in your time?”

  “Better, stronger than they were when I was a bairn. Iain leads them well.”

  “Twigs formed by a wizard’s pact,” Adlin said thoughtfully. “To save a clan. Then years later transformed into circles.” His gaze again flickered between Alan and Caitriona. “‘Twas a verra sensual bit of magic that created these rings. And a verra powerful god indeed to oversee it.”

  Adlin slowly sat and stared into the fire. “But why a Stewart laird and a mystic? I ken the Stewart part,” he said.

  “You do?” Alan asked.

  “The Stewarts and MacLomains are longtime allies and intermarried. Do you not have MacLomain blood running through your veins?”

  Surprised, he replied, “Aye, my grandfather married a MacLomain.”

  Adlin waved away the information as if it meant little. “Then that of course explains how your magic would help protect the clan. But it doesnae explain the rest.” He again looked at Caitriona. “Are you sure you knew your real parents, lass?”

  She nodded. “Since the day I was born.”

  Adlin flinched and turned his eyes back to the fire. “Little does a bairn see on the day of her birth.”

  They all sat around the fire, waiting patiently for Adlin to come to a much needed conclusion. Alan held Caitriona’s hand. “Do you mean to say they might not be her real parents?”

  “Oh, her Ma is,” Adlin said. “But I dinnae sense any Broun blood in her.”

  Caitriona inhaled sharply. “‘Tis why Iosbail never sensed I was kin.”

  Now Adlin appeared surprised. “You know my sister?”

  A wobbly smile surfaced. “Aye. She is a good soul and my friend as well.”

  “Really?” For the first time, Adlin chuckled. “Never have I heard someone speak so fondly of her.”

  “We traveled for a time together. She saved my life several times.”

  “Traveled together? Where?”

  “Across Scotland with Alexander Sinclair. She had a seething hatred for the lad.” Caitriona blushed. “But they managed through just fine.”

  Adlin grinned. “Ah, that journey! I remember sitting with her in our Lord’s year 1005. The lass was in a fit raving about the monster who was Alexander Sinclair. But I knew her monster was meant to be a great man. So with the right persuasion, mainly that I told her not to, Iosbail was whisking through time to intercept him in our Lord’s year 1094. That all worked out exactly as I planned,” he said happily. “I didnae know about this part though. You.”

  “The version of you I knew did,” Caitriona said.

  “Well, with age comes wisdom,” Adlin muttered.

  “So is that what year it is now?” Mildred asked softly.

  Caitriona shook her head. “Nay, ‘tis now 1199.”

  “Oh my,” Mildred said.

  “And is Adlin’s time yours?” Arianna asked. “‘I have never heard such a strange accent.”

  Mildred shook her head. “No, I’m afraid I’m from a much different time and place. It was 1942 when I left my home.”

  Arianna’s eyes rounded. “Bloody hell!”

  Alan wondered if she knew Caitlin Seavey. After all, was she not from the distant future as well?

  “Then we are all misplaced in time,” Adlin said and looked at Alan. “Except for you.”

  “Nay, I am now eleven years in my own past.” He nodded at Stephen and Arianna. “They are the only ones who are where they belong.”

  “But even that is not the case, is it?” Adlin said.

  “Nay,” Stephen said. “We have fled our clan. Chosen exile for love.”

  “‘Tis foolish. Why would you do that?”

  Arianna cleared her throat. “Because I didnae want to marry your grandson, Iain.”

  The MacLomain wizard cocked his head. “For shame. So where is Iain now?”

  “At his…your castle,” Stephen said. “Awaiting his promised bride.”

  “Och, my jilted lad,” Adlin said and shook his head.

  Alan had to give the MacLomain credit when he did not show more anger. He’d always maintained a rational mind. His disposition when in a young man’s body was really no different than when old. Then again, Adlin had been alive for a very long time.

  Alan tore off some pheasant and handed it to Mildred. “Here. Please eat.”

  She nodded her thanks. He then handed some to Caitriona and Adlin.

  It wasn’t really an uncomfortable silence that settled over the group but one of contemplation. After all this, it seemed Adlin had few answers to give. For whatever reasons the gods intended, this younger version of him was here. And however engaging it might be to meet the MacLomain in his youth, it didn’t help Alan in the least. They were no closer to the truth about the prophecy and there remained a very good chance he would still lose Caitriona.

  The first to finally break their reflections was Stephen. “This Defiance is greatly weakened. Will you have the power to return with Mildred?”

  Adlin popped the last bit of food in his mouth and stood. His eyes turned sad as he walked around the Defiance, touching it here and there. “There is barely any power left here.”

  Stephen stood as well and looked up at the magnificent structure. “I am sorry that it might not get you home. But know this, ‘tis only weakened now because in this time you are all that much stronger.”

  “If I only had the power of…me,” he said caustically. “Speaking of me, where am I?”

  “As far as I know, with Iain at the MacLomain castle. His is a marriage you would want to witness.”

  “I suppose I would,” Adlin conceded. “‘Tis safe to assume then that this future me knows I am here. If, that is, I have become as powerful as you say. Strange that I dinnae sense him.”

  Alan had thought of that. No doubt Adlin was aware of his own arrival from another time. It would, most likely, not faze him in the least. Nay, if anything it would feed into his mischievous nature and lend a bizarre edge of truth to whatever riddles he told.

  Adlin’s compassionate eyes met Mildred’s. “I am afraid our adventure is not over yet, love. This Defiance will carry us nowhere. The last of its power dwindles even as I speak.”

  Alan had been fairly certain about one thing. If they managed to get Adlin here he would be able to get himself home. Now it seemed that would not be. But there were worse fates than having Adlin MacLomain as a traveling companion. If anything it increased the odds of Caitriona’s survival.

  “It doesn’t matter where I am so long as it’s with you,” Mildred said.

  Alan studied the lass, impressed with her devotion. She was as lovely as he would expect of the MacLomain’s lass but she possessed something extra, somet
hing suited specifically to Adlin. There was a lightheartedness about her that was rare. He supposed there would have to be to tolerate the peculiarities of such a man. As far as anyone knew, the MacLomain was immortal and had his hands in the fate and destiny of nearly all he came in contact with. Which again, well-suited Alan when it came to the qualities of a newfound traveling companion.

  “Are they all weakened like this?” Adlin asked Stephen.

  “I dinnae think so. At another, I was able to bring Caitriona and Alan here without issue.”

  Adlin’s shrewd eyes landed on Caitriona. “Where do you travel to?”

  “The Sinclair clan,” Arianna interjected. “They will offer us shelter.”

  The MacLomain shook his head and again asked, “Where, Caitriona?”

  Alan looked at his lass. That same guilt he’d seen earlier simmered in her pretty brown eyes. She sighed. “The true tip of Scotland. The Orkney Isles.”

  While it was easy enough to set aside his frustration with her in lieu of curiosity, Alan made mental note that though they might have shared so much together, he still had much to discover. “‘Tis certain death for us both, then. The Norsemen inhabit that place.”

  Adlin frowned. “Why would a Celtic god tell you to go to Norse ground?”

  Caitriona shook her head. “He didnae. You did.”

  “Och, ‘tis unfortunate.” Adlin crossed his arms over his chest. “Pray tell I gave you good reason.”

  “Only that he whom I sought would be there. Not on the mainland of the Orkney’s but on one of its smaller isles. I would know which when the time came. There, and only there, upon the death of my one true love, would the prophecy find truth. When it did, the MacLomains might be saved.”

  “Might?” Alan said, incredulous.

  “I really am cryptic at times,” Adlin said. He handed the satchel of wooden rings back to her. “If I was that specific and then you were told by Fionn to take these on your journey, then do so and keep them safe.”

  Caitriona tucked the rings away and looked Alan’s way. “I saw no reason for you to worry the entirety of our journey. I always meant to tell you but closer to our destination.”

  “‘Tis good you realize ‘tis our destination. And it seems I overestimated our union earlier. For though I thought we shared, you still withhold. Could it be that your lies will lead to the verra outcome you so fear?”

  Stung, she replied, “‘Tis a marked difference between a lie and simply withholding information.”

  “‘Tis not.” He needed a skin of whisky and a sword to sharpen, anything to get his mind off of her. When he stood so did she. “Nay, remain here while I check on the horses.”

  Wounded, she slowly sat back down. Alan grabbed a skin and blade and left the cave. She made it an easy thing to remember why he’d formed a habit of loving the lassies then letting them go. But the further away from her he walked the more miserable he became. He had never really been one to turn to spirits when he brooded so when Alan made it to the horses; he set aside the skin and leaned against a rock.

  The night was quiet, moonlight slipping and sliding down through the canopy of leaves. He twisted his blade, testing its weight. Why couldn’t she tell him all her truths from the start? Alan knew she wished to protect him as strongly as he did her but how could they do that without honesty? They needed to think as one. He was convinced if they did then all they faced would be conquered.

  “Alan.”

  He heard Caitriona’s call moments before she emerged from the cave. Alan was glad she hadn’t listened to him and that she’d followed. With long strides he headed her way, eager to hold her. Yet something shifted and warped as he got closer, as though time itself slowed. “Caitriona?”

  But she shook her head as if movement was impossible, eyes wide and terrified.

  Strong magic came from everywhere. So powerful he could not fight it because he could not pinpoint it. Terrified for her life he tried to cast a spell of protection over her but nothing happened. The next thing he knew arrows rained down with speed and precision. Not one hit him.

  All four struck her.

  Then all went quiet and the magic vanished.

  Caitriona stood, arrows riddling her chest.

  With a cry of rage, Alan leapt forward and caught her right before she hit the ground.

  “Alan?”

  He shook with disbelief as he lowered her. She couldn’t be dead.

  “Alan?”

  It took several excruciatingly long moments before he realized that she spoke not from her position in his arms but from somewhere else. When he looked up it was to see her just emerging from the cave.

  For the first time.

  Chapter Eight

  Caitriona didn’t understand what she witnessed. Alan knelt on the ground as if he held something, his face ravaged with grief. Fearful, she said, “Alan?”

  He’d looked up, an odd sense of recognition on his face before he yelled, “Run! Now!”

  But she was given no chance to. The Stewart leapt forward and scooped her up so fast, Caitriona could do nothing but watch behind him as four arrows thumped to the ground where he had only moments before knelt. How he managed down that narrow hallway and back to the cave with her over his shoulder, she’d never know.

  “They come!” He yelled and flipped her to the ground.

  All grabbed a weapon, including her.

  “Nay, lasses, climb!” Adlin shoved Mildred toward the cave face that Alan had climbed earlier.

  She looked up and up. “Climb that?”

  “Aye, now!”

  Arianna frowned but nodded at Stephen, tucked away her dagger and started to climb. “Mildred, follow my every move. Dinnae look down, not once. Caitriona, follow her.”

  Caitriona exchanged one last glance with Alan. Both relief and wrath turned his eyes dark. He craved the fight coming. It was hard turning away but she did. Was this when he was meant to die? Her heart pounded in her chest. She’d have revenge on all his gods if they took him from her now.

  Arianna moved swiftly, Mildred right behind. Caitriona climbed slower. If he was wounded she would go back. A battle cry unleashed and metal clanged against metal. When she looked down it was to see at least twenty foreign warriors flooding the cave. She stopped and watched as Alan cut down three with one well-aimed swoop of his blade. Blood flew and men fell. The chant of magic drifted up as Stephen and Adlin used a different method. An arc of light burst from them and ten more men fell lifeless to the ground.

  But for every man who fell, it seemed ten more replaced him.

  When an arrow thumped the wall next to her, Caitriona resumed her ascent. At the top, she swiftly swung onto her belly and stared down. Far, far too many of the enemy was below. They needed to flee!

  “We are coming, my lass. Fear naught.”

  It was the first time Alan had spoken within her mind. Caitriona wiped away an angry tear. Damn but he sounded good. Arianna threw down two thin bags and handed her a bow. “We’ve not many of these so make every one count.”

  Caitriona nodded, lifting her dress enough so she could kneel effectively. When Stephen started climbing, her bare knees were wedged against the stone and her arrow was cocked.

  “What can I do?” Mildred asked, voice calm.

  “Rocks. The bigger the better. Throw them.” Arianna said. With one eye narrowed, she released an arrow. It struck and killed a man ready to fire at Stephen.

  The Broun moved with ease up the wall, Adlin behind him. Alan would go last. Typical. Caitriona growled and released an arrow. It sliced into one man’s face causing him to release his own arrow and killing another.

  “Well done,” Arianna said, firing another of her own arrows.

  Meanwhile, Mildred was doing a good job of whipping rocks. She only missed once, the jagged little thing pegging off Adlin’s shoulder. “Oops,” she muttered and aimed better the next throw.

  Alan continued in his beserker fury. If he wasn’t using a dagger in creative
ways, then he was slicing down a man with his claymore. Brutal, ruthless, thoroughly enraged, he seldom seemed to resort to magic, much to the frustration of Adlin when he and Stephen got to the top.

  “Bloody fool,” he mumbled and immediately set to casting what looked like fireballs down on the ever increasing swarm of men below.

  “Come on!” Stephen roared and started tossing down his own brand of magic.

  When several dozen men lay dead at his feet, Alan finally seemed to realize that he was outnumbered. Caitriona could scarcely believe the crazed grin he wore as he swiftly started to climb. The slickness of blood on his hands and feet did nothing to make the man clumsy. If she weren’t so frightened for him, she might have admired his pure finesse.

  However, to save him she needed to remain completely focused. All of them did. Even though he moved right along, time felt as though it crawled. As the enemy swarmed behind him, she made every arrow count, killing two sometimes three at once. Halfway up, Alan swung around, leaning back against the stone face in a stunt that outdid stunts. She didn’t dare ask what he was doing lest she break anyone’s concentration.

  What seemed hundreds of arrows were coming at him as well as magic, warriors, daggers and even a few rocks. Yet there was Alan, calm as could be, chanting.

  “Good lad,” Adlin muttered and threw down a particularly ravaging bit of magic that toppled a whole row of men.

  A loud whoosh filled the cave and as if an avalanche fell from Alan’s feet, the wall rippled down to complete smoothness leaving any way to climb from this direction impossible. The men who had been climbing fell to their death.

  Stephen chuckled. “Nice trick.”

  But it wasn’t nearly over. There were other ledges and crevices and the enemy was soon discovering them. Not to mention the endless weaponry still flying through the air. Alan swung back around and continued climbing. He nearly made it to the top when an arrow made it by their defenses and sliced through his thigh. But even that did not slow down her highlander, nor did it make him flinch. Leaning down, he snapped half of it off and finished his climb.

  “Go!” He roared.