by Ria Cantrell
She whispered a quiet apology to her parents and she took the bridle to lead her horse through the gates that were already open from her father’s return. She had watched him and his men ride through and though the main entrance had been barred behind them, the portcullis and bridge remained open.
Jenna kept herself in the shadows feeling more like a fugitive than the daughter of the master of the house and she longed to taste the freedom that beckoned once she reached the open terrain. The moon was waning but it cast enough light to help Jenna see her course. She had traveled the road between Campbell keep and MacCollum so many times, she felt as if she could ride there in her sleep. What she needed to do was to be with her cousin, Brigid Caitlyn, and her grandfather and uncles. Grandda’ Caleb, Uncle Jamie, Uncle Sean, Uncle Liam, and especially Uncle Rory were her favorite people, outside her immediate family in the entire world. Jenna knew she could count on their love when her heart was troubled. Besides, she needed someone her age to confide in. She loved Brigid like a sister and she knew that all worries would disappear once she had a good talk with her.
Jenna had not realized she was holding her breath as the shadows of the guards moving across the battlements threatened to give her away. If they detected her, there would be no telling what sort of trouble she would have bought. As the guards began to relieve their posts for the night, Jenna knew she would only have one chance to make her get away. She waited as the familiar shouts signaled the changing of the watch. She knew the procedure well. She had grown up with it and remembered when her father had captained the command while they lived at Ragnorsen Keep. Even though she had been but a child, the memory of it still lived vividly in her mind. It served her well this night because the changing of the night guards were done similarly as they had been when her father was the captain of Sir Erik’s elite guard.
Jenna decided the time had come to take flight and she quickly let the mare out of the gate while the watchful eyes of the guards were momentarily distracted. Once out of the keep, Jenna kept close to the lane leading from her home. An icy blast blew her tawny hair from her neck and a chill raced down her spine. She certainly wished she had donned more than the thin woolen crêpe gown as a shiver coursed through her. She had not even packed an extra garment knowing that Brigid would happily share one once she arrived at MacCollum keep. They had traded clothes for as far back as Jenna could remember. Only now as an owl hooted a warning in the distance, and another chill raised gooseflesh on her skin, Jenna thought perhaps she had not logically planned this journey through.
Gaining view of the copse of trees that bordered the woods, Jenna jumped up on the back of her dark mare. She pulled the hood of her cloak up around her hair and she made a dash to the open meadow beyond the keep. It would take a little longer, but if she circled past the loch, she would remain unseen. Despite her bravado of being fearless, Jenna knew enough to steer clear of the open road until morning. While the area between her home and the MacCollum lands were afforded of virtual safety, a lone woman riding in the night could be set upon at a moment’s breath. Jenna was not so foolish to get herself accosted and raped just for the sake of her escape. Certainly, thwarting an arranged marriage was not worth risking her virtue or for that matter, her very life.
Jenna also avoided the woods that passed near the ancient ruins that had been part of the original keep. Something about that moldering old tower gave Jenna an uneasy feeling. Some said the place housed the cursed spirit of one of her families’ enemies but Jenna was not so sure she believed in the tales of troubled ghosties. Still, she avoided the place even when the daylight warmed the land. There would be no point to frighten herself silly before she even began her trip. If all would go as planned, Jenna would reach her grandfather’s castle by midday on the morrow; even with the detour around the loch.
Leaning low on the mare’s neck, Jenna gave the animal its head once she reached the open meadow and she tasted freedom now in her grasp. All her concerns and reservations drifted away on the fresh night air. Jenna forgot about being cold as she breathed in the crisp aromas of churned earth beneath her horse’s hooves or the scent of the fallen leaves and pine needles. She took a deep breath and she felt the bite of cold dance like ice crystals in her lungs. Aye, ‘twas a wee bitter, but it made her feel alive. As her mount lead her away from a probable betrothal, time was her only companion and thoughts wheedled into her mind. She allowed it to wander with the passing miles. Och, winter would come early to be certain. I hope the harvest will beat the first snow this time.
When Jenna thought about the harvest, she was again assailed with remorse. Her parents only wanted what was best for her. She knew that, but she could not have them choose a mate for her. No, she answered out loud; fully aware that no one but herself would witness her dialogue. I will nay let my destiny be guided by someone else’s hand. I dunna’ care if I am an old spinster like nanny Morag. I would rather be like her then be forced to wed someone not of my own choosing.
Even as she heard her words echo in the silence of the night, Jenna felt the hand of fate pressing upon her. Somehow she knew she would not be able to escape it this time.
~
Chapter Six – Scotland, Present Day~
Kiera Campbell watched her handsome husband silently as he sat by the fire reading his book. He crunched down on a crisp apple; lost in the pages of the tome he held in his big hands. It was times like these that Kiera pondered the wonder and beauty of life. A year ago, she never had believed she would have found love so completely; especially with a man like Derek. A failed relationship had left her reeling and forced her to seek refuge in a place far from her home; in the Highlands of Scotland.
She sought to put all memories of her failures and heart aches in a place where she would not have to confront them and so when she had the opportunity to travel to Europe for her dead-end job; despite wanting another career--anything different--she took the opportunity to put distance between the man who had broken her heart and the memories that would haunt her. At least, that was her hope.
Her battered spirit was ripe pickings for a boss who took advantage of her and used her weakened soul to foster his abusive and irrational expectations. After a brief trip into the Highlands of Scotland, Kiera seemed to find the nourishment of her psyche that had been lacking and with a renewed strength, finally put an end to a situation that would only continue to get worse. She quit her job and fled back to the lush hills of Scotland where she became a tour guide in an ancient castle. The perks were unimaginable.
Kiera smiled at the memory. She was afforded lodging in the upper apartments of the castle and she would live no less than the noble ladies she had read about in steamy romance novels when she was a young and impressionable girl. Kiera glanced again at her husband, Derek, and he sensed her eyes on him. A slow sexy smile spread on his lips and it practically turned her legs to jelly. His dark stormy eyes lit with unspoken desire for her with just a single glance. It was always like that for them; even when it seemed impossible that anything real could come of their attraction for one another. But as Kiera listened for the sounds on the baby monitor in the nursery, she knew that all things were possible and that no one was denied the most miraculous of blessings. At least that is what she believed. Tossing his apple core into the leaping flames of the hearth, Derek silently held out his hand and Kiera smiled. She went to him and he pulled her onto his lap. He tucked her head against his chest and he kissed the top of her hair. Putting her arms around his neck, she breathed his scent and felt that very same miracle’s heart beat beneath her cheek.
“Mo anam Cara,” he whispered. It was her favorite thing to hear. Soul mate; his soul mate! Derek called her that and she believed it was true. She settled into his arms, comfortable to just touch him. A little less than a year ago they had descended into hell; or so it seemed. Now, the simplest pleasure like sitting in his lap was cherished and sacred.
Feeling his strength and the simple act of sitting with him while he read
his book calmed Kiera. All day she had been feeling an odd sense of apprehension and somehow being physically close to her husband allayed her uneasy feeling, which had plagued her. She could not put her finger on it but the worrisome energy niggled at her instincts. Kiera was a sensitive. That’s what she liked to call it. She didn’t want to refer to herself as psychic and in fact for most of her life she had made very definite strides to negate that very thing. She had run from that gift from when she was a child because it made her different. The kids made fun of her. Even her mother tried to keep her from admitting her ability. In fact, her mother made Kiera very aware that admitting to having such a gift was unwelcomed and would not be tolerated. However, like the times in her life when she had run from the hurtful memories of her past, eventually Kiera had to face up to her mistakes and failures. So too, did Kiera have to own up to that gift she had long denied.
Well actually, if it wasn’t for her psychic ability, she never would have been able to find the other half of her soul. Derek was in her arms because of that very gift, though even when Kiera pondered the entire mystery of their union, she still had a hard time believing everything that had actually happened.
Kiera again breathed in the clean masculine scent of her mate and she forced those thoughts to the back of her mind. What mattered now was that Fate had seen to it to bring them together. Their love, although initially tempestuous, was the strongest force in her life. Kiera had given birth to their first child about five months ago. She had settled into wedded bliss; living like a princess as the Lady Campbell in the ancient castle she now called home.
Derek closed his book and laying it on a table beside the chair he sat comfortably with his wife. He said, “What is troublin’ ye’, Lass?”
Even after being together almost a year and a half, the deep rich burr of his accent sent a ripple of delight right through her.
“Nothing,” she lied. There was no point in mentioning anything that had no basis or merit. After everything they had been through and despite her husband’s strength, Kiera still sought to protect him. Derek, having been steeped in the ways of the Ancients, was on to her immediately.
“Love, I dunna’ know why ye’ think to hide things from me for ye’ cannot! Something’s amiss and I would know what that is.”
With a sigh, Kiera said honestly, “I don’t really know. Just a feeling, that’s all.”
Derek raised an eyebrow and smiled. “Do ye’ suppose ye’ are with child again?” Kiera laughed and said, “I’m sure it’s possible but no, I don’t think so. It’s more an uneasy feeling. Like something is looming or going to happen.”
Derek knew not to brush off those feelings. Kiera was a Seer. He was not about to deny the gifts of his beloved woman. He knew better than that. Calmly he said, “Well, whatever it is, we shall face it together. All will be well, my love.”
Kiera wanted to believe him but neither of them did and she knew it.
~
Chapter Seven ~
Tommy was all packed. The cast of Celtic Storm would be leaving in a couple of days to begin the first leg of the tour. He felt strangely calm, despite the fact that he would be performing in sold-out venues every night for the next four months. The first leg would begin after the holidays and then the group of young men would hit the studios to record the songs that would be performed throughout the tour. They would be heading for Ireland first and then after recording they would go on to Scotland. He was glad he had come home for a few weeks so he could pick up some extra winter clothes. He was pretty sure he was not prepared for winter in Scotland. Tommy was happy to be spending Christmas at home, but he was excited to start his grand adventure.
He couldn’t wait to get to the ancient Isle of Erin and then to the wilds of Scotland. All of his life, the Celtic culture called to him. He supposed it was because he was adopted and maybe he just sought some heritage to call his own. His parents were tied to those people, as well, but he knew that their blood did not run through his veins. Still, he had read everything he could about his adopted family’s surname and lineage in the hopes that he could feel his own ties through them. The Callums had come over to the states from Scotland and were descended from a clan called Malcolm. But long before that they were known as MacCollum. Tommy remembered how he had loved the sound of that name. He supposed if he could not claim his heritage by blood, he was happy to own it through his adoptive family tree.
As Tom folded the last of his clothes, he heard the gentle rapping of his mother on his bedroom door. He said, “Come on in, Mom.”
His mother came in carrying a folded blanket. She forced a smile to her lips and she said, “Do you have room for this? It’s your old baby blanket.”
Tommy grinned. “I can’t believe you saved it after all these years. I had nearly forgotten about it.”
Deirdre nodded and said, “It came with you. I kept it all this time because it was the only link I had to your identity.”
“Mom, I know you did your best to find out what you could. I was just thinking if I never knew my true heritage, I am grateful to be linked to yours and Dad’s.”
“Tommy, I put in lots of hours looking things up about the colors of this plaid.”
“Brat, mom. I think it is called a brat. Don’t ask me how I know that,” he said with a wistful smile.
“Well, I wanted to give you the notes I took about it. Someone took great pains to duplicate a tartan from an ancient clan in Scotland. Here, take a look at this. I even copied some of the notes in the Gaelic language. I figure you might be able to decipher it, since you’ve been using the Gaelic lessons now to sing some of those wonderful Celtic songs with your troupe.”
Tom sat down on his bed next to his open suitcase and he sifted through the photocopied pages and his mother’s hand written notes. After reading through some of the notes, Deirdre saw her son’s beautiful gray eyes grow wide.
“Mom, you have got to be kidding me! Do you know what this says?”
With a wan smile, Deirdre said, “I was hoping you could tell me.”
“Mom, it says the plaid is from a clan Malcolm; formerly MacCollum. This is unbelievable.”
“I know. Quite a coincidence isn’t it?”
“Our name… Callum… Is one of the forms of MacCollum.”
“I know. I guess there was a reason we were chosen to be your parents; a reason that is beyond anything we can even understand.”
Tom shook his head in disbelief. Hadn’t he just been thinking about the noble origins of the name Callum? Now to find that he may have indeed had a link to that heritage after all; it was just too weird.
“Why didn’t you ever tell me, mom?”
Shrugging, Deirdre said, “I don’t know. I guess part of me wanted to protect you. Part of me wanted to…,” Her voice faltered. “I guess it was selfish of me, Tom. I think maybe I didn’t want you to know so you wouldn’t want to look…for her. I realize now it’s time to let you go.”
“Mom, even if I ever did find my birth mother, it wouldn’t matter. You’re the one who loved me and raised me. Besides, it’s not like we won’t be able to stay in touch… I mean you and I. I will have my phone and laptop. We can Skype. As for my birth mother, she has never looked for me and I don’t think I’ll be looking for her. I’m not mad at her for anything. I’ve sort of outgrown that. I mean sure, it would be nice to know where I came from, but you and dad have been everything to me. I couldn’t have asked for better parents.”
Deirdre paced the length of Tom’s room and in front of his bed. Her resolve to be cheerful was quickly fading and as she looked at her handsome son, she needed to make a confession of sorts. It was time to tell him everything she knew; the things she had withheld. It was her day of reckoning and while she had always feared this day would come, explaining it all now somehow seemed like the right thing to do.
“Tommy, you know I did my best to find the woman who…who gave birth to you. I really did, but there are things I never told you; things I ne
ver told anyone.”
Tom patted his bed and he said gently, “Sit down, mom. It’s all going to be all right.”
Deirdre looked into her son’s face. He had grown into quite a fine looking man. No one could’ve ever guessed that the sickly little boy she had nurtured would have turned into a brawny hunk of a guy. He looked more like a lumberjack than a singer in a Celtic traveling show. His dark hair just brushed his broad shoulders. He was taller than most of the men she knew and he didn’t need to spend hours in the gym to get in shape. It was as if he had a pre-clinician to a perfect body that made him quite popular with the ladies. Hell, girls practically threw themselves at him. Deirdre had hoped that eventually he would get tired of dating and maybe even get married one day. Now that he was a grown man, she liked to imagine a house full of grandbabies to play with. Dan would be able to retire in a few years and he talked about setting up a small home-managed practice. What better way to spend their golden years than to spoil some grandkids. Deirdre sighed heavily. No one knew what tomorrow would bring. She said, “Tom, there were things about you; medical things, that no one could explain. Nothing life-threatening now, but back when you came to us, we had to have lots of tests done on you because you were pretty ill.”
“I know, mom. I vaguely remember all those trips to the hospital. Not my happiest memories I’ll admit. But I’m not that sick little boy anymore.”
“No, you certainly are not. Well, the thing is that your immune system was an enigma. You didn’t have natural antibodies that most kids were born with but you did have ones that warded off diseases we no longer worry about.”
“Oh, like polio and the mumps?”
“No, like the bubonic plague.”
Tommy laughed a little nervously. “Well, that’s good right?”
“Tommy, the only people who have that immunity are people who survived it or from someone whose mother passed it on through breast milk.”