Celtic Peril (Celtic Storm Book 6)

by Ria Cantrell

  “And a happier occasion I can nay imagine. After the King has had his fill of travelin’ through our fair land, the wedding will be our next priority.”

  “Ian is ready, my lady. I think I could not have asked for a better husband for our precious Marianna. He has grown into a man you should be well proud of.”

  “Aye, that I am. I owe much of it to yer’ fostered teaching. He is an honorable Knight and a good man.”

  “Well thank you, My lady Bronwyn. Your lass is so grown up, as well. I nearly did nay recognize her. Last time I saw her, she was chasing some poor sot down the lane and I daresay she got the better of the lad. I had to pull her off of him and prevent her from bloodying his nose.”

  Bronwyn nearly choked on the compliment. Clearing her throat, she said, “Well, that is what I wished to speak to ye’ and Ian about. T’is rather important and a little embarrassing, I must admit. Do ye’ think ye’ can spare a moment to speak to me in private along with yer’ Guard?”

  Erik looked about the main hall; a frown creased his brow. He did not really like leaving the king’s presence, but he could tell the matter Bronwyn needed to discuss seemed to be an important one. He silently signaled Ian to follow him and his mother and he said, “Aye, my lady, but I do not wish to be gone too long from the king’s company.”

  “I understand. It will only take but a moment, if ye’ will. I, too want nothing to go wrong with this night or during the time His Grace is our guest here, but this is something I must explain to prevent just such a thing, I think.”

  “As you wish, my lady.”

  Erik took Bronwyn’s arm in his as she led him to Drew’s private study outside of the raucous feast. Ian followed a few paces behind them; his face serious and bland of expression. He was already piqued at the deception that was underfoot and he had yet to deal with that infuriating stranger he had locked in the storeroom for safe keeping.

  Checking that they had not been followed, Bronwyn closed the heavy oak door behind them and she bid the two men to sit down. Erik did, but Ian did not. He stood leaning against the wall, with his arms crossed over his chest.

  “What is this all about, Mother? You had best start explaining yourself.”

  “Ian, take care! You will show your mother the proper respect. Even though you are a Knight now, you are still my ward and I shall be obliged to meter out my hand for your insolence.”

  Bronwyn went to her son and kissed him. “He’s right, Erik. I have deceived ye’ and the king.”

  “Deceived? How?”

  Bronwyn took a deep breath and said, “That woman is not Jenna, but a very close imposter. When ye’ said that she had grown up since the last time ye’ have seen her, ye’ were quite right. She is mature, for she is older than Jenna by eight or nine years I would wager.”

  “What? How is that possible? Who is she? And why would you wish to deceive us. For that matter, to deceive our king?”

  When Bronwyn paused, Ian urged, “Please answer Uncle Erik, Mother. This does not bode well, for any of us.”

  “T’is really difficult to explain.”

  Erik gave Ian a warning look and he reminded him again, although silently, to be respectful. He said, “Lady, why not just speak what is troubling you? We have been friends these many years. There is naught that you should fear in telling me.”

  Bronwyn’s eyes met Erik’s. If anyone would understand, it would be him. His own dear wife was steeped in the Old Ways and he had learned about things that were too mad to believe at times, just from having lived with her. She said plainly, “Jenna is missing.”

  “What? Mother, what do you mean missing?”

  Raising her palms up to quell Ian’s response, she corrected her initial statement and answered, “Well, she is safe. She is with yer’ uncle Rory at the MacDougal Samhain celebration. She ran away because she thought the king wanted her to be his wife or worse, his mistress. Ye’ know yer’ sister, Ian. She is determined to marry a man of her own choosing.”

  “Not such a bad idea, I’d say,” Erik replied wistfully. His marriage had been arranged and annulled to suit the whims of his king at the time; Richard’s grandfather. He had even been deemed to marry Bronwyn in Rhianna’s stead so he empathized with his “niece” Jenna.

  Bronwyn smiled nervously at Erik’s observation. “Indeed, Erik. Well, Richard deemed that all lasses of a certain age be presented to him. In a missive to us, prior to his visit, he stated he was looking forward to meeting our daughter. It seems he had been told there was a daughter of marriageable age within our household. We could nay just say she was off celebrating a “heathen” Sabbat, now could we? It is dangerous for our kind, Erik, would ye’ nay agree?”

  Erik rubbed his jaw and he said, “Aye, verily. Rhianna chooses her gifts wisely and she is ever careful now more than ever to keep them private.”

  “Mother, but who is the woman who is set to deceive our king?”

  “She…she is perhaps one of our descendants, for her resemblance to our Jenna is most uncanny.”

  “Descendants?! Have you gone mad, Mum? I think you have mistaken….”

  “Ian. She is nay from this time. Nana Morag brought her here from a time much away from this one. She is the lady of this Castle, but many spans of time in the future.”

  “How is that even possible?”

  With a faraway look glazing over his eyes, Erik mumbled, “Lad, there are things the Ancients cannot explain. Your aunt Rhianna has many gifts, but not one such as this. I tell you, years ago, I would not have believed such things were possible.”

  “Even I did nay know such a thing could be done. The lady ye’ saw in Jenna’s place is named Kiera…Kiera Campbell.”

  “Campbell? You must be joking.”

  “This is the Campbell stronghold, in case ye’ have forgotten. It actually belongs to yer’ auntie Brielle, but she wanted no part of it. It has been returned to Brielle’s brother…in that time so distant from now.”

  “Lady, I’m not sure I understand.”

  “Kiera is from a time near six centuries in the future. Derek Campbell was cursed or punished, for I know not which, to neither live or die until he found redemption. That redemption came at the hands of our beautiful imposter, but she is from the future. That I know is true. Derek fell in love with her and gained his mortality back, breaking the curse and he lives in that time now, with the lady sitting with the king; the one who is pretending to be our Jenna.”

  Erik stood up and paced a bit before Bronwyn. His duty was to protect the King, but he could not betray his best friends and he understood why they sought to deceive the king. These days, it was dangerous to admit Pagan ties and even when they took Christianity as their beliefs, Celtic people were all linked to the Old Ways. His wife, though of Welsh decent, was a strong Healer and Seer. Why even his own mother, had been known to live by prophetic dreams. Jenna, although some would say had been disobedient, was a strong young woman, not so unlike Bronwyn or his Rhianna. These were the types of women who did not always conform to the restraints that had been placed upon them. What was Erik supposed to do? If the ruse became apparent, he would look like he had betrayed the King’s trust. On the other hand, he could not expose Bronwyn’s secret.

  Ian spoke the words Erik had refrained from saying. “Mother, you have put us in a very difficult situation.”

  “I had little choice, Ian.”

  Erik nodded; his cold blue eyes, darkening with the burden of his dilemma. “Sins of omission are sometimes as great as deception.”

  “Erik, aye, t’is a deception on our part, but as a mother, I could nay see my bonnie lass fall prey to the king’s whims. I would nay have her become the king’s leman. I would rather she marry a MacKenzie than to dishonor herself with such a station. She aided my hand by deserting to the MacCollum’s. I have only known Kiera Campbell a short time, but I trust her. I also think she can manage the task, from what I have seen. The king is enjoying her company, but he does nay seem besotted with her. I
f he was, then that would be an entirely different problem. After he leaves in a few days, I suppose, he will never think upon ‘Jenna’ again.”

  “Lady, what would you have me do?”

  “T’is not my wish to cause ye’ to dishonor yer’ vows to the Order of Chivalry. If ye’ think it best to expose our ruse, I will abide by yer’ decision and face the consequences that my deception has caused.”

  Erik silently pondered the predicament for a few moments. Finally, he said, “I will not betray you, my lady. My vow to the Order is also to protect those in harm’s way. It is also to protect my family from danger. You are my family. You are my friends. I will not expose your secret.”

  “But, Erik….”

  “Enough, Ian. What would you have me do? Lock your own mother and sister away or have them punished for their decisions? I will not speak of it…unless it is asked of me. I cannot lie, my lady. That is a fault of mine. I can, however, be silent. What is not drawn to light, I need not trim the lamp to garner attention to the matter.”

  “I understand, Erik. I am grateful for your discretion.”

  With a deep-felt sigh, Erik said, “But she does truly look like Jenna. Strange how the passing of time does not change the offspring of one’s ancestors.”

  Bronwyn smiled nervously, “Strange is indeed the way of it. The entire scheme is brewed in strangeness.”

  Erik mumbled, “Damned witches. They will meet out my death yet.”

  Though the words sounded stern, Bronwyn knew he meant them without malice. Putting her hand on his arm, she said, “Would ye’ have us any other way, M’lord?”

  Casting Bronwyn a sidelong glance, he sighed again and said, “Nay.”

  They were about to leave the study when Ian stopped suddenly and said, “So who is this man, calling himself Tavish MacCollum? Is he also part of your deception, Mum?”

  “He is who he says he is.”

  Bronwyn was not certain it should be up to her to share that secret. Instead she just said, “He accidently was drawn through time when the lady Campbell appeared.”

  “Well, then, until I know that he is no threat to our king, he will stay put where I have left him.”

  “Ian, what have you done?”

  “Nothing. I simply have him where he cannot be suspect to cause harm. The hall is full of people and it is hard to watch them all. This person is not known to any of us.”

  “Where is he?”

  “I have him under guard.”

  “Where,” Bronwyn demanded. She was starting to become irritated. While it was true that they did not know much about the man, he was as much a guest in her home as the bloody English king.

  “Mother, he is simply in the storeroom near the kitchens. I have left him with two guards to see to him.”

  Bronwyn’s eyes pleaded with Erik’s. She knew that he would be able to reason more with her son than she would. He said, “Free him.”

  “But….”

  “He has done nothing to be imprisoned. Free him.”

  “He has raised my suspicion. I must go on my instincts.”

  “He is Morag’s son,” Bronwyn blurted out.

  Ian’s head whipped around and he faced his troubled mother. “He is her son. T’is true. In a twist of the Fates, he was brought back to her.”

  “I did not even know Nan Morag had a son…and this man is near to my age.”

  “It is a very long story, my son. She had brought him to a time to heal him. He was dying and she could nay save him. She never saw him again…until she brought the woman here to help us.”

  “Truly, mother, this is mad.”

  “It has been a cruel warp in the web. Believe me; I believed it to be a fantasy, too. But I went with Nan Morag to the glade. I saw it with my own eyes. It was like the shadow of the Stones had swallowed her and when I thought I would nay see her again, she returned; bringing the lady and the MacCollum lad with her. It does seem mad,but I assure ye’ t’is the truth.”

  Erik spoke up and said, “Ian, return to your post within the great hall.”

  Ian did not question Erik and he bid his order. Taking Bronwyn’s arm, he said, “Show me where this storage room is.”

  Bronwyn nodded. That growing feeling of doom settled in the pit of her stomach. It was like a potent warning but the strength of her friend’s arm felt comforting and she led Erik to where the two guards kept watch over the door. They had moved a heavy bench in front of it and one sat pressed against the door, while the other stood beside it. Erik’s voice never seemed to rise, and his commands were either silently given or spoken softly. He simply said, “Unbar the door and set the man free.”

  They did not question his authority and so they both shoved at the bench, clearing the path of the door. Bronwyn put her fingers around the door handle and pulled. The door stuck from the moist heat of the nearby kitchens but finally with another tug, opened. The man within the stifling room sprawled at their feet. He was covered in perspiration and his eyes looked like that of a caged wild animal. Erik stooped down to help him up and Bronwyn said, “Tavish, are ye’ alright?”

  Tom took in deep breaths of oxygen. His lungs seemed to burn but anything was better than being locked in that small room. Bronwyn looked up at Erik Ragnorsen and she said, “Could ye’ help me with him? He needs tendin’ and I canna’ lift him alone.”

  “Aye my lady.”

  Grabbing the man beneath both arms, Erik drew Tom up from the floor. He was like a rag doll and Erik supported the man’s weight by drawing one of his arms about his shoulder. Bronwyn got under the other one and they half walked and half dragged the man back to her husband’s study. Bronwyn called out to a passing serving girl and bid her to bring a bucket of water to the room. Then they helped seat the man who was starting to come out of his catatonic lapse. He was murmuring Jenna’s name and saying something neither Bronwyn nor Erik could understand.

  Once he was seated, Bronwyn motioned that Erik could return to his duties in the main hall. The girl had come back with a pitcher of water and some cloths. She had seen the bloodied hand of the man and assumed that the Lady Bronwyn would want to cleanse it. Bronwyn thanked the young woman and closed the door behind her. She sat beside Tom and said, “Tavish, can ye’ hear me?”

  He nodded. Bronwyn gave him a mug of cool water to drink and he downed it completely in just a few gulps. Then she took one of the cloths and wet it, dabbing it around Tom’s bruised fingers. “What have ye’ done to yerself?”

  Again Tom murmured something about Jenna. It sounded like he said she had come to tend him. Bronwyn had seen this before. Once, she had even been locked in a darkened stairwell a long time ago and she had felt as if the blackness would swallow her whole. If Drew hadn’t come to her rescue, she may had been in the same state as Tavish was right now. She spoke softly to him and she said, “I am so sorry. I did nay know that Ian had imprisoned ye’. There now, are ye’ better?”

  Tom seemed to snap out of his terror. The voice was so much like the beautiful angel that had come to him. It was her mother, of course, but it was enough to get through the fog that had clouded his mind while he was locked in that horrible little place.

  “I am alright, my lady,” Tom answered lowly. His voice felt ragged and his throat felt raw, like he had been screaming. Maybe he had; he was not quite sure. It had all become a blur to him. He was mortified. He must have seemed like such a wimp to these tough Highlanders. He apologized, but Bronwyn would not have it. She said, “I know how ye’ feel. Once I was locked in a room, bigger than yon closet and it felt as if I was going to be consumed by the black darkness. Are ye’ alright?”

  “I am fine, my lady.” He helped himself to another mug of the refreshing water and despite the warmth of the room, he was starting to cool down. In fact, the sweat-soaked clothes were cold and clammy against his skin. Sheepishly he admitted, “That never happened to me before. I feel quite foolish.”

  “Nay, lad. Nay, not at all. Ye’ have suffered many shocking thin
gs of late. T’is only natural that yer’ defenses have been sorely taxed.”

  With a half grin, Tom answered, “That is quite true. How are things going with your king?”

  “He seems to like the lady Kiera. Let us just hope he shall nay wish to bed her. I dunna’ see her taking well to that.”

  “And if you ever met her husband; you haven’t have you?”

  Bronwyn shook her head and said, “Nay, but I know about him. He--well shall we say he was not one to be trifled with.”

  “Yes, and even with his hmm, well better attitude, I daresay he would rip the king’s head off clean with his bare hands if so much of a hair on Kiera’s head was touched.”

  Tom was starting to feel better. He knew now was his chance to speak to the lady before she needed to return to the feast.

  “My lady, I need to tell you something.”

  “Yes, ye’ mentioned that ye’ saw my Jenna.”

  “Yes, but that is not what I wish to talk to you about. This is very serious and very dangerous as well. It concerns the life of the king and I don’t know what I should do.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, being that I have lived in the time many years from now, this time is written in history books. I know things that have already happened, or rather are about to happen here. I need to warn….”

  “Dunna’ say another word!”

  It was her, Morag; his mother. She had somehow silently entered the room and she stood there looking as fierce as an old lady could. With a markedly arthritic hand, she pointed toward Tom and said, “Ye’ canna’ say more. Yer’ presence here, although welcomed for my weary eyes, is dangerous. Dunna’ think to play with time to change the course of history. Trust me, ye’ will regret it.”

  “How did you get here,” Tom asked, still astonished at her presence.

  “Boy, I did nay magic, if that is what ye’ think. I merely was looking fer’ my Highland Rose.”

  Bronwyn smiled at Tavish’s confusion and she leaned in and whispered, “She means me.”

  “What did you mean that I would regret it if I told what I know about history?”