by J. D. Robb
“Bloody barbarians would rather pillage and steal from us than do the work involved to prosper.”
“Why do you wait for them to attack? Why not send your warriors out to find them before they wreak their havoc?”
Again that arched look before he smiled. “I promised my people peace and prosperity. It is not our way to take from others. But we will die before we will give in to the barbarians. It is my sworn duty to protect my people, my flocks, and my land from invaders. You and they would think little of their laird if I did not. And I would rather die than have you think ill of me, my beloved. Now that I know you’re safe, I’ll see them all routed from these shores.” He rubbed idly at his shoulder, giving Laurel the opportunity she’d been waiting for.
“You’re losing too much blood. Let me tend that wound.” She eased herself from the settee and glanced around the room. Spying a basin and pitcher, she motioned him to follow her.
With a sigh of resignation he crossed the room and plunged his arms into the basin while she poured water over the wound. “Woman, have you no heart? You know what I want.”
“And I want…” To wake from this nightmare, she thought. She bit back the words she’d been about to hurl and cautioned herself to speak with care. “…I want you strong and healthy.”
He gave her a mysterious smile that had her heart tripping over itself. “I’d be happy to show you both my strength and my health, if you’d but cooperate, wife.”
“One thing at a time.” She picked up a linen square and dried his arm, then looked around for something with which to disinfect the wound.
As if reading her mind, Con filled two goblets with ale. After handing one to her, he splashed some of his on his wound, gave a quick indrawn breath at the sharp pain, then drained his goblet.
He tore a length of linen into strips and bent close. “Here you are, my love.” His mouth brushed her cheek, causing the most amazing sensations to ripple along her spine. “You’ve always had such a light touch when tending to my needs.”
She took the linen strips from his hand. Oh, what she wouldn’t give for some antiseptic ointment and an antibiotic, not to mention a doctor to stitch this deep, bloody gash. This whole scene was so primitive. But since it was all she had, she would do what she could to stem the bleeding, and pray the wound healed without infection.
While she carefully wrapped a strip of linen around his shoulder and tied the ends, she couldn’t help but notice the perfect symmetry of his body. Despite the many battle scars that marred his flesh, his was the most beautiful body she’d ever seen. All hard, tight muscle and sinew, without the bulk of a bodybuilder. This was a lean, fit warrior, who would put the men in her New York office to shame, even though many of them spent hours each week with their personal trainers in a gym, sweating on their treadmills and exercise bikes to stay in shape.
She gathered her courage. “You are Con the Mighty? Conal MacLennan?”
“I see your memory is returning. A good sign. You had me concerned. Do you remember your name now?”
“I’ve never forgotten.” She couldn’t help grinning. “Laurel.”
“Aye. My beloved Laurel, of the Clan Douglas. What happened to you, love? Were you pushed from the tower as I’d feared?”
“I…don’t know.” She turned away to avoid those piercing eyes. How could she possibly make this man understand that she didn’t belong here? That she was caught up in some sort of mad dream, even though wide awake? “None of this makes any sense.”
At once his hands were at her shoulders, drawing her back against him. He circled his arms around her, his big hands resting just beneath the fullness of her breasts, causing a strange tingling deep inside her. She’d never known someone so powerful to be so gentle, so caring.
His words, spoken against her ear, vibrated with tenderness and passion. “You’re not to worry yourself about it, my love. The memories will come to you in time. These things often happen after a blow to the head.”
“But you don’t understand. I’m not…” She turned to him, intent upon explaining. But when she saw the look in his eyes, her mind seemed to go blank. No man had ever looked at her with such fierce, abiding love. Even if she didn’t deserve it, even if she wasn’t the one he really loved, she was helpless against such a tidal wave of feeling.
What must it be like to be completely, utterly loved? Hadn’t she always wondered? It would be so easy to pretend, for a little while, that she was the woman he really wanted. Yet she knew in her heart that it wouldn’t be fair to accept, for even one moment, the love this man meant for another. But, oh, how she wished it were so.
She took a deep breath. “There’s something you should know.”
“Aye, love?” He drew her close, his mouth pressed to a tangle of hair at her temple.
She could feel his breath, warm on her cheek. And his strong, steady heartbeat keeping time with hers. “I come from another time. Another place.”
“That would explain your strange garb.” He looked her up and down. “The barbarians took you with them and forced their clothes and customs on you.”
“The clothes are mine. I wore a business suit on the plane. And when we got here, I thought I’d just exchange the skirt for comfortable slacks while we took a tour of the castle.”
He smiled at her as if she’d just babbled in a foreign language. “How did you escape your captors?”
She sucked in a breath, determined to make him understand. “I didn’t need to escape. I was never…”
“Nay.” He touched a finger to her lips to silence her. “It matters not how you did it. It is enough that you are back where you belong. Here in my arms. Safe in my fortress. But know this. If they harmed you in any way, my love, I’ll make them pay in ways they will regret even after they lie in their graves.”
She shook her head, more determined than ever. “It isn’t like that, Conal.”
“Conal.” He gave her a wicked smile that had her heart actually fluttering. “Besides my mother, you are the only woman who dares to call me that.” He put a hand beneath her chin, forcing her to look at him. “You know what it always does to me. But then, that was your plan, love, was it not?”
“Con…” It was too late. His mouth claimed hers in a blazing kiss. As he lingered over her lips, tasting, devouring, she could actually feel the floor beneath her feet begin to dip and sway, until she was forced to wrap her arms around his waist or risk falling.
“There’s the Laurel I know and love.” He kissed the tip of her nose before lifting his head and taking hold of her hand. “You’ve tended my wound. We’ve quenched our thirst. Now, love, there is a hunger, deep and abiding, that must be fed.”
As he started toward the settee there was a quick rap on the door.
Con looked up in annoyance. “Enter.”
A young warrior with red hair, his handsome face clean-shaven, paused in the doorway, looking from Con to Laurel. For a moment he seemed so startled at the sight of her, dressed in her man-tailored slacks and white shirt, he couldn’t seem to find his voice. For the longest time he merely stared in stunned silence.
Finally he managed to say, “I see ye’ve found her.”
“Aye. Just beyond the wall of the keep. She’d managed to flee her captors and was making her way home. What is it, Duncan?”
When the man continued to stare at Laurel in silence, the warrior standing behind him pushed him aside. “Ye must come, m’laird. Our warriors caught one of the barbarians.”
“That’s grand. Bind him, lad. I’ll see to him later. There are…” Con turned to Laurel with a burning look. “…things here I must see to before I deal with him.”
The warrior gave a quick shake of his head. “Ye’d best come now, m’laird. The intruder has made wild claims that his leader knew before the attack how to breach our defenses.”
Con’s eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. “Is he saying there’s a traitor in our midst?”
The warrior nodded. “’Twould seem so,
m’laird. But you know these barbarians are sworn to never speak the truth.”
Duncan suddenly composed himself enough to say, “Leave me alone with him and I’ll get the truth out of him before I slit his throat.”
“Nay. I want him alive.” With a hiss of anger, Con released Laurel’s hand. “I’m sorry, my love. I have no choice but to deal with this immediately.”
Laurel felt a sense of elation. She’d won a reprieve. But even as the thought rushed through her mind, she wondered at the chill she felt when he released her.
Con lifted a hand to her cheek and gave her a look so loving, so tender, she could feel herself blushing. “I’ll send Brinna to tend to you until I return.”
“Brinna?”
“The lass from the village.” He took hold of her hands. “’Twill all come back to you in time.” He seemed torn between duty and desire. “I waited so long to find you. I hate to leave you for even a little while.” He surprised her by pressing a kiss to each of her palms before closing her fingers over the spot. “Until I return, hold this as a token of my love.”
He turned and strode from the room.
Laurel stood perfectly still, wondering at the way her heart behaved in response to the simple touch of this man. She ought to be terrified by this entire situation. Instead, almost from the beginning, this strange, primitive warrior had been able to put her at ease.
What patience he showed for the woman he believed to be his wife. What passion. What a deep, abiding love.
Still, she had no time for romantic notions. The capture of one of the intruders had given her a chance to escape. She dare not squander this opportunity. She would use the moment to slip away before the girl from the village arrived.
There had to be a way to get back to her own world.
She opened the door, peering around anxiously before stepping from the room.
Though she’d been too shocked to pay much attention which direction they’d taken through the darkened passageways, she was fairly certain she could find her way back. Like anyone who lived and worked in New York City, she had a keen sense of direction.
A short time later, after becoming lost in a maze of darkened passageways, and retracing her steps many times, she spied a doorway up ahead. Though it wasn’t the niche behind the tapestry, she was hopeful that it would lead to freedom. Shoving the heavy wooden door open she stepped outside and stared around in confusion.
There were no ruins. No tumbled stones. Instead, the once ancient fortress and tower now rose up like a gleaming beacon in the fading light of evening. The newer additions to the castle, which housed the five-star hotel and restaurant, were nowhere to be seen. They had completely disappeared, like ghostly wisps of fog over the loch.
She became aware of something else. An eerie silence seemed to have settled over the land. Except for the call of an occasional bird, and the hum and buzz of insects, there was no sound. No planes overhead. No cars or trucks. No curving ribbon of driveway leading to the fortress. No people milling about. No lights, except for a flickering candle at several of the tower windows, and far off, in the distance, the fairy lights of what appeared to be a village.
Civilization as she knew it had disappeared. Now there was only this towering fortress. And around it, a wild and primitive Highland wilderness.
Time hadn’t stopped; it had been reversed. Laurel could see nothing familiar or comforting. Though she looked the same, and felt the same, she had fallen into some sort of time warp, with no apparent way out.
She stared around to convince herself that she wasn’t dreaming. She could feel the breeze on her face. Could smell the dank, rich tang of freshly turned earth, and the wonderful fragrance of baking bread wafting from the castle. And she could still taste Con, strong and dark and mysterious, on her lips.
If this wasn’t a dream, if this was truly happening, it wasn’t some mere accident. Laurel was far too pragmatic for that. Hadn’t she always believed that everything that happened in life had a rhyme and reason?
How did she happen to come to this particular castle, only to learn that she shared the same name as the laird’s wife?
It had to be Fate.
But why?
Was there a mystery to be solved? A life to be saved?
Would her actions here alter the course of history? Or at least the course of the MacLennans’ history?
Deep in thought, recognizing that she had nowhere else to go, she turned and let herself back into the castle. This time she managed to find her way back to the suite of rooms with no trouble.
She stepped inside and began to pace.
She wasn’t dreaming. This was actually happening to her. But why? What was her purpose in all this? And how could she best fulfill this strange new role that had been thrust upon her?
For now, she decided, until she could find a way back to her own world, her own time, she would watch and listen and hope to learn what she was meant to do here.
She no longer feared for her life. Despite this primitive existence, she felt safe here in Con’s castle.
Con the Mighty.
Though she may be safe from the intruders, there was something else, equally dangerous. Her own foolish heart. For as handsome and intriguing as Conal MacLennan may be, he was wed to another. Trying to avoid giving in to his obvious charm may prove to be the greatest challenge of all.
Three
“My lady.” Laurel’s musings were interrupted when the door to her chambers was opened and a young woman hurried inside carrying an armload of clothing.
“Brinna?”
“Aye, my lady.” Because her hands were occupied, the young woman nudged the door closed with her hip before laying the clothes carefully across the chaise.
When she turned, it was obvious that she was out of breath from her efforts. She was taller than Laurel by a head, with flaming hair and icy blue eyes.
She gave her mistress a brittle smile. “I didn’t believe it when the laird sent word that you’d been found.”
“And why is that?”
“You’ve been gone so long, we were certain you were dead at the hands of the barbarians.” She made it sound like an indictment, as though Laurel had somehow chosen to be kidnapped and that her return had merely created more work.
Remembering her manners, the servant gave a slight bow. “Welcome home, my lady.” Her words, spoken quickly, were anything but welcoming.
“Thank you.” Laurel glanced at the array of garments. “Are these for me?”
“Aye, my lady.” The girl was openly staring at Laurel’s strange clothing. “’Tis true then? You were indeed captured by the invaders. Did they treat you badly?”
Laurel looked away. “I’d rather not speak of it.”
“Of course. Forgive my boldness. I’m sure you’ll want nothing left to remind you of your captors.” The young woman indicated a soft, white wool gown. “You will feel better when you are dressed in your own clothing.”
While she helped Laurel out of her slacks and shirt she made disapproving sounds about the strange bra and bikini panties underneath.
“Barbarians.” She spat the word. “Why did they bind you so?”
Laurel bit back a smile and managed to shrug. “I suppose it’s their custom.”
“If you’d like, my lady, I’ll gladly toss these in the fire.”
Laurel caught her hand. “I’d rather keep them.”
“Aye. To stoke your hatred of the ones who treated you so shamefully, I’d wager.” The girl tossed the bloodstained clothing to the floor with a look of disdain before helping Laurel into fresh undergarments. A soft, delicate chemise that tied in front with ribbons. Wool hose. And finally a gown of unbleached wool, with a low, rounded neckline and long narrow sleeves that fell in little points over the backs of her hands.
When she was dressed, Brinna led her to a stool. “If you’ll sit here, I will dress your hair.”
Because there was no mirror, Laurel had no idea how her hair looked, or what
the lass would do to it. Not that it mattered. What she needed was information. Something that would tell her how she’d come to be here, and how to get back home. But this girl seemed so sullen, so distant, she wondered where to begin.
“Are there any other fortresses in this area, Brinna?”
“None, my lady. For as far as the eye can see, the land belongs to none but the MacLennan Clan.”
Laurel pushed aside the little twinge of regret. She’d hoped to find yet another castle in the area that might offer a way home. A room, perhaps, that would resemble the tower stairs where she’d slipped into this other dimension.
“How long have you served the laird in his castle, Brinna?”
The girl’s hands paused in their work. “You’ve known me all my life, my lady.”
“Of course. But I can’t seem to recall…”
“Oh, aye.” The girl clapped a hand to her mouth. “The laird warned that you suffered some lapses in memory.”
“Perhaps you can help me remember, Brinna. Tell me about your…our village.”
“Ours is a prosperous village. In my grandfather’s day, our people roamed the Highlands to avoid the invaders, refusing to settle in one place. The laird persuaded us to build our huts here, for the soil is rich and the crags and hills make us impervious to attack. Under the laird’s protection our crops grow lush, and our herds of sheep grow fat. But now the barbarians have once again found us, and there is talk among the villagers of leaving this place and seeking a haven elsewhere.”
“Where would they go?”
Brinna shook her head. “I know not where.”
“Don’t they trust their laird to protect them?”
The girl’s voice held a trace of anger. “When you disappeared, the very heart seemed to go out of our laird. He could think of nothing except finding you. Because of it, he could no longer look out for the welfare of his people. When he left on his quest to find you, he charged his half brother with the care of the castle and our village and even of your son until he returned.”
Laurel’s head swiveled. “I have a…?” She paused to consider her words more carefully. “My son? Is he here in the castle?”