Celtic Blizzard

by Ria Cantrell

  Jamie saw a lone dark figure approaching on foot and he tried to determine if the foe was armed with a bow or a sword. Why would this person venture out into the open without being on horseback? He was as much a sitting target as Jamie at the moment, but he would die, if Jamie had his say. Standing or riding, the bloody bastard would die!

  As Jamie kicked his horse into a full gallop toward the approaching figure he had to wipe his eyes again. When Jamie got closer, he could not believe what he saw. Although dressed in strange masculine trews, the person nearing him was clearly and most definitely a woman. What the hell? What sort of ruse was this?

  To make matters more mystifying, the woman called out to him and he could have sworn she said, “Jamie MacCollum, go back. It is a trap. If you do not go, you will die this day.”

  Just then Liam rode alongside of Jamie and he said, “What in feckin’ hell is happening? Where did she come from?”

  “Glad ye’ see her, brother. I thought she may be a portent from the Guardians or something.”

  “She looks real enough, Jamie. But have a care? She may be part of the ruse.”

  Jamie broke past Liam and rode at full tilt toward the strange woman who knew his name. With sword still drawn, he rode straight at her and he saw the terror in her eyes when she thought he would run her through or trample her. With the skill and strength of a soldier, Jamie’s warrior instincts kicked in and he grabbed the woman with his free arm, using his knees to steer the horse and he hauled her up, seating her sideways across his saddle. He felt her sag against him and he realized she must have fainted, but Jamie was ever guarded and he had already fallen for one trap this day. He would not be so stupid again.

  He slid his sword back into its scabbard on his back and he wheeled his horse sharply away from the rise. The snow had acted as a screen and he was going to use it to his advantage after all. Aye, he was no coward, but it would do no good to get himself and his brothers killed. The thing to do was to get reinforcements and to meet those treacherous MacDougals on even ground. Besides, he had to find out who this woman was and why she had put herself in danger to warn him. Or had she? Perhaps she was a willing pawn for the MacDougal cause and she was another piece of the ruse against MacCollum. Either way, Jamie was not going to wait to find out.

  Riding at a break-neck pace past his brothers, Liam and Ruiri had no choice but to turn and keep up with their brother. It was a good idea, too, because arrows had begun to fly and even though the snow had given them a momentary shield, they could probably still be seen by those upon the ridge. They had to move and it had better be rapidly. They could make it to cover so long as the sudden blizzard did not hinder their horses. They let Jamie take the lead and they followed closely; pushing the horses to their limits in order to keep up with him and the mysterious woman who had appeared magically out of the falling snow.

  ⌘⌘⌘⌘⌘⌘

  Sinead stood in shock for a moment. One minute she had been in the Cloisters, buried in the stories of the past and the next she had felt herself falling off a cliff or something. She felt like the plummet was never going to end and she remembered blacking out just before she hit bottom. Now, she was standing in the midst of a ferocious snow storm in the middle of some sort of field. Could she have died when she hit the ground? Or maybe she had really fallen asleep in the library and was dreaming. That had to be it. Sinead pinched the palm of her hand, digging her nails in and already feeling the numbness of cold spreading through her exposed fingers. She stamped her feet to gain some warmth into them and she felt the crisp sting of the snow as it landed on her face and melted upon her cheeks. Nope, not a dream, Sinead was certain of that. As she tried to make sense of what just had happened, she heard an ungodly shout from above her. She may not have heard a sound like that before, but she knew it for what it was. Holy Shit, that’s a war cry!

  Legend says if you make a Christmas wish on the Solstice, it’s more than likely to come true. Sinead heard the words as plainly as the battle cry that rang and echoed through the blanketed hills around her. What had she been wishing just before she fell? It seemed hard for her to remember all of a sudden. One thing she knew for sure was that she had to get out of the line of fire. She knew enough, at least, to do that. She shook herself from the daze and shock of what had just happened and her survival instinct kicked in. Run, girl…you are a runner…GO!

  Sinead’s legs began to move and though it was hard to see through the veil of snow, she was able to do what she was so good at. Her feet slipped a little. Running shoes weren’t the best thing to wear in a blizzard, but that was all she had at the moment. She was also glad that she had put her sweater back on in the library, even though it wouldn’t be long before it, too was soaked through. The snow was the heavy wet kind that stuck. Already, it seemed that her hair was coated white with it, but she could not take too much time to worry about that now. She had to get out of the line of sight at least and then she would try to figure out what to do. Hell, she didn’t even know where she was.

  As she ran blindly through the thick blowing snow, barely able to see her hands if she held them out in front of her; there before her was a man on horseback. He was charging toward her and she was pretty sure he was going to trample her. Christmas Wish! She had been thinking of Jamie MacCollum, the man who had been killed all those centuries ago. Even though, it was pretty certain that he would run her down; or worse! He was brandishing the biggest sword Sinead had ever seen and it appeared that he wanted to slice her completely in half with it. Cleave, she heard the word sound in her head. It shall cleave you. And then she knew!

  She was in Medieval Scotland. Somehow she had fallen through time to medieval Scotland. She thought she would not be able to speak from the fear of what she had discerned. It was almost too much. Too many shocks all at once and the heart can just purely stop! Somehow, the words formed and through the blur of fear and panic, Sinead heard herself scream, “Jamie MacCollum, go back. It is a trap. If you do not go, you will die this day.”

  It did nothing to stop him. He was riding at full speed toward her, with that monstrous blade swinging over his head. Sinead was pretty sure, that not only was Jamie MacCollum supposed to be killed, but that she would never survive his attack. She froze there, like a deer in the headlights and watched in slow motion as he wheeled his horse inches from where she stood.

  Instead of feeling the blade slice her in half, Sinead felt the most powerful arm hook about her as he leaned sideways over his saddle and he grabbed her like someone grasping the brass ring on a merry-go-round. It was a good thing, too, because Sinead thought, “I do believe I’m going to faint.” And faint she did. It was all too much for her and as she felt him clasping her around her waist, and pulling her before him on his horse, he whipped the horse around and rode so fast, it took Sinead’s breath away. There, before the man who only seconds ago nearly ran her through, Sinead swooned and fell limp in his arms.

  Chapter 7

  Arrows seemed to be coming in every direction and the brief cover of the storm did nothing to shield the men now. Liam and Ruiri were flanked on each side of their brother, to try to protect him and the mysterious woman who had fallen out of the sky with the rash and sudden snow storm. She was dressed in the most outlandish attire, but that was the least of their worries at the moment. She had shouted a warning to Jamie and now she was as still as death in his arms. Her lips were beginning to turn blue and all men knew that if she wasn’t dead yet, it would only be a matter of time if they did not get her to safety.

  Only, there was no respite from the danger at the moment. They had managed to dodge the deadly barbs that had been rained down upon them for the moment and so far, it did not look as if they were being tracked by those who sought to do murder that day. Bloody MacDougals! If they wanted war, the MacCollums would be happy to oblige.

  With a nod of his head, Ruiri directed his brothers through the winter sparse woods and they knew if they could outrun the arrows, they would be safer ami
d the trees than out in the open, but they could also be trapped if they were followed. Either way, they were in grave danger, but now they had someone else’s life in their hands. A woman; a woman who was going to die if they did not get her out of the elements. As they were making their way to cover, a lone arrow grazed passed Liam and tore through the sodden trews of the woman. Luckily it did not stick through, but it opened a nasty gash on her thigh.

  A cry of pain brought her out of her faint as fire seared through her leg. She heard a loud curse from the man who was riding behind her and she heard him call in Gaelic to the men riding with him. The horrible wound was agonizing and Sinead feared that whatever had caused the injury had pared her muscle to the bone.

  “The lass has been hit,” Jamie exclaimed and another foul curse exploded through his lips. Crimson droplets dotted the snow like garnets and Liam said, “Go, I will cover these tracks. Try to staunch her blood for it will leave a trail for those bloody MacDougals right to us.”

  At the mention of the MacDougal name, Sinead pulled herself straighter. The pain was almost unbearable, but she had to tell them that it wasn’t the MacDougals that had caused this ambush. She tried to breathe through the pain and remember. What had she read before she had been shunted back in time? Jamie had slowed the horse to a trot in the trees and he pulled a dirk from his boot with his left hand. Cutting a jagged swath off of his plaid, he pushed it into the gash on Sinead’s thigh. She cried out again and he said gruffly, “I’m sorry, lass, but we need to stop yer’ bleedin’.”

  When the pain subsided, Sinead mumbled through gritted teeth, “MacKenzie.” Jamie halted the horse completely and he said, “Are ye’ tellin’ me ye’ are a feckin’ MacKenzie?”

  Sinead shook her head, and the sodden snow glided down into her neckline of the sweater. It made her forget the pain in her thigh for a moment. She started to shiver violently, either from shock or from the cold, because it could have been a combination of the two. She welcomed the numbing cold because it deadened the agony in her leg. With teeth chattering, she said, “No…I am not a MacKenzie. Those men…on…on th-th-the ridge…Ma-Mackk-MacKenzzz-zzie.”

  “How do ye’ know that?”

  “J-j-just d-d-do.”

  Forgetting her plight, Jamie said, “I think ye’ best tell me who ye’ are, lass and how ye’ know who I am.”

  Sinead thought for a moment and she was pretty certain she did not want to say her name was MacDougal. There was clearly bad blood between this man’s clan and the forefathers of her own lineage and he would never believe her even if she did tell him the truth. Still, when he had asked her, Sinead was not able to lie. She tried to focus away from the burning pain in her leg and the bone chilling cold in order to answer the man she had somehow come through time to save. She simply said, “You w-would n-n-not believe m-m-me if I t-t-told you.”

  Halting his horse amid the thicker brush of the woods, Jamie turned the vixen’s face to his and with a murderous look in his eyes, he spoke. His tone was low, but that made it all the more menacing. “Ye’ had better tell me and I will decide if I believe ye’ or nay. Now, who are ye’ and how did ye’ come to know my name?”

  For a moment, Sinead thought, “What have I gotten myself into? This man is going to kill me, for nothing I say to him will help my cause. To think I wanted to save him….”

  She looked into his eyes and saw the cold stare of a killer. This was not a man who needed saving. He was a ruthless warrior bound in a savage time when murder was the norm. It was the way of things in order for survival. Survival of the fittest, she told herself…and was he ever fit! His muscles were rock hard and his strength was something she hadn’t even encountered in the gym with any of those testosterone steroidal body builders. No, his strength had come naturally from his lifestyle of hard work on the land and in fighting for his very existence.

  Something about that was attractive to Sinead, even though he looked as though he wanted to chew her up and spit her out at the moment. In fact, once she got past the look of pure violence in his eyes, Sinead would have to admit that he was probably one of the most physically attractive men she had ever seen. Her past boyfriends were always quite delicious, but this guy. Holy Hannah’s shit! His eyes were a strange color; a warm sort of brown with hues of amber. They were sort of like molten caramel and Sinead found herself wanting to drown in them despite the cold menacing stare that bored into her very soul. A day’s growth of beard wringed his stoically set mouth and peppered his jawline in rugged masculine beauty. His hair, which now was as sodden as hers, hung lank past his shoulders and she imagined it must be quite the crowning beauty when it was dry and freshly combed. She hadn’t dated too many guys with long hair, but it suited this guy to a tee. Why the hell do I keep comparing him to guys I have dated? He wants to freakin’ kill me.

  The truth of the matter was that in spite of the pain she was in and the very precarious situation at hand, Sinead found herself to be very much attracted to the big brute that could probably kill her with his bare hands. She didn’t know why, but somehow, she believed that Jamie MacCollum would not really wish to harm her. She had absolutely no reasoning behind that thought. She would be perceived as his enemy. At the very least, she would be called a witch and maybe even tried for being one. After all, it wasn’t every day that someone fell through time from the future to warn a person of a trap and his impending death. Still, the way his arm had been holding her on his horse defied the look of murder in his eyes. This was not a man who was careless with women. This was a man who was a protector. Sinead just knew it. You’ve read too many romance novels…this was definitely a man who could hurt a woman…but why do I feel that he won’t?

  Jamie stared into the eyes of the strange woman in odd clothes and he was moved by the fear that met his gaze. Fear and something else; Jamie knew the look well. Lasses always seemed to be looking at him that way and up until this day, he had not given it much merit. Aye, he enjoyed a comely lass in his bed now and again, but his life had been so focused on his work within the clan, that he had not given the idea of claiming a woman as his own much thought. This woman was dangerous in more ways than Jamie wanted to admit!

  Despite the way her dark hair was plastered down from the melted snow, Jamie could guess it was lustrous and long; except it was pulled back from her face and tied with some sort of band. Tendrils of her dark tresses had escaped during their harrowing ride into the woods and now licked upon her dampened cheeks. Her eyes flashed aquamarine, like a crystal loch on a winter’s day. Though she should be terrified of him, Jamie also saw courage as she stared at him openly; even though he was pretty certain his visage was menacing at the moment. She did not cower or shudder in fright of him.

  He was obviously a very big man, who was capable of great violence, but this woman did not seem to give any of that pause. Aye, she was shivering, but she was clad in trews that looked too thin to keep her slender legs warm. She had no cloak and the short tunic in the most beautiful shade of green that she wore was soaked through as well. He had to do something or the girl would freeze to death. It seemed that the wound on her leg had ebbed and blood no longer trickled out from under the wadded plaid he had pushed against it. Her form, although lithe and muscular in its own right, sported lush curves in all the places a man wanted in a woman and her clothing did nothing to hide it from him. This woman was beautiful. As another wave of teeth chattering tremors passed through her, Jamie was forced back to the matter at hand. He had forgotten about her claim of the MacKenzies setting the trap for him and his brothers. The woman; aye, this beautiful woman, was going to die if he did not do something to warm her. Already her lips looked blue with the cold and the warmth he had felt initially when he pulled her into his saddle was being replaced with unnatural coolness of her body.

  As she looked at him and tried to work her jaw to answer him, he knew her body was shutting down. The fact that she shivered was still a good sign, because it meant she was fighting the cold but he kn
ew it would not be long before she would sink into the sleep of death. Jamie could not let that happen, even if she was a bloody MacKenzie spy.

  By this time, his brothers had caught up to him and Ruiri said, “I think we have lost them, for the moment. I dunna’ think they have followed us into the woods.”

  Liam looked at the woman in Jamie’s arms and he frowned. She was in a bad way. “Brother, the lass…she….”

  “I know. We need to get her to safety and we need to put some warmth back into her.”

  “We are yet too far from MacCollum keep, Jamie and the weather is worsening. But I think there is a place we can take shelter in for a time. It is remote and we can start a fire at least until we can make it back to MacCollum.”

  Jamie shook his head. “Nay, a fire would bring our enemies right to us. Besides, the storm may only get worse through the night. We will have to ride like the hell fires to MacCollum. Give me yer’ tartans, lads.”

  Jamie unwound his plaid as well and he swaddled it around the woman. She shook her head, not wishing him to give up whatever protection from the elements he had for her sake, but he hushed her and as the one named Liam handed over their woolen fly-plaids, Jamie tucked them warmly about her too. The heat from the men’s bodies put warmth back into Sinead but she knew it would not last long. She did not have a long time to ponder it because Jamie kicked his horse into a full gallop and it was all she could do to not be unseated. He skillfully wound his way through the trees and when there was enough of an opening, he gave the animal his head.

  The speed in which the horse fled across the snow covered ground was dizzying and Sinead was afraid she was going to swoon again. How many times had that happened in the last day? She had never fainted a day in her life and within the last 24 hours, she had nearly done so three times. The motion and swiftness of the ride took Sinead’s breath away and she settled against the man who she was supposed to save, suddenly unable to even think very much. The throbbing in her skull beat in time to the hoof beats of the great warhorse that carried her to God knew where, but she no longer cared. Everything was starting to blur and though she tried to make sense of it all, she suddenly could not. She breathed in and mumbled, “Jamie MacCollum…you have lived.”