Celtic Blizzard

by Ria Cantrell

  “Look, I don’t understand why you are so upset. I thought you loved Jamie. Aren’t you happy that he didn’t get killed?”

  “Aye, of course. But even I dunna’ know the punishment for the preventing of it. I dunna’ know much about our path as Walkers of Time, but I am certain ye’ are nay supposed to try to change what has been written. I tried to change it once, too and I paid so dearly. I lost everything. My husband and my son. T’was my punishment for abusing the Gift of Time manipulatin’. Now ye’ have thwarted what was to be Jamie’s lot. I know not what will happen to ye’, lass. The Guardians can be stern and unforgiving task masters. I suppose that ye’ did nay know ye’ would change what had been written will soften Their ire.”

  Sinead was feeling dread heavily weighing upon her. This was going from bad to worse. She stammered, “W-well, I will just wish myself back…I wish I never made that wish…there…it is undone.”

  “Ye’ are still here, lass.”

  Sinead tossed the covers off of her and she forced herself to stand. Pain shot through her thigh and it almost sent her sprawling on the cold stone floor. She gripped the edge of the bed and she said, “I see that. I shall just wish it harder.”

  Morag knew hysteria when she saw it and this woman, strong though she was, was beginning to sink into despair and into an irrational frenzy. She tried to remain calm, despite what Sinead had just told her, because the repercussions were sure to be dear. She said simply, “It just does nay work that way, lass. For some reason, the Guardians saw fit to let ye’ interfere with their Web. I know not the workings of the Guardians. I do know they dunna’ like meddlin’. But mayhap the fact that Jamie was to be killed through trickery allowed fer’ yer’ interference. That must be it, Lass. Yer’ purpose here is yet to be fulfilled, else the Guardians would nay have let you slip through time to help him.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m sayin’ ye’ were meant to save him and I think there is more ye’ must save besides his life.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “His heart, lass. His soul, for his life is naught without the saving of those.”

  Chapter 12

  Sinead did not really know how to reply to Morag. On one hand, she had wished to save Jamie just because she read he had been killed in an untimely ambush. Why had his plight called to her over the ages? She had no idea that if she were to actually meet the man of the story that he would look like he did. He was beyond the norm for the handsome category. Gorgeous was more like it and yet, he acted like he had no clue he looked that way. He was strong and fierce, but protective at the same time. He believed in his heart that she was his enemy, yet, he had done everything in his power to get her to safety and to have her taken care of. Why would he do that? Did the unspoken code of these medieval men run so deep that Chivalry was inbred and not something that had just been written about in prose and epics? She knew about the history of chivalry, but this ran deeper. It was like they aspired to it in a natural way. It was part of their genetic make-up, in a way.

  On the other hand, good looks or not; budding desire or not, Sinead had a life that she truly enjoyed. She had good friends, and she liked her independence in the great city of New York. She loved her work delving into the secrets of the past. Wait a minute…I spend my life cataloguing antiquities and here I have the opportunity to experience them first hand. I mean, no artifacts can beat actually being here; living it. In a way, it’s like a dream come true…okay grant it…there are dangers and inconveniences…but how many times did I feel like I didn’t belong in the modern world? I lost myself in my work because it made me feel closer to the past.

  Morag watched the girl. She was warring with herself, Morag knew it. She had not lived this long a life without being able to read the expressions of people and this girl had just run the gamut of emotions in a matter of seconds. That was good. Morag knew that meant that the lass was actually giving consideration to her words.

  She said, very nonchalantly, “Lass, ye’ dunna’ have to decide right now. Anyway, I need to look at yer’ leg. I have some things that will staunch infection and aid in the scarring.”

  “Oh, yeah, sure. Thanks. That would be awesome. It does hurt quite a bit. The last thing I need is an infection in medieval Scotland.”

  Without giving it much thought, Sinead undid her ruined jeans and she took them off. She also peeled off her sodden sweater and she was about to lay it near the hearth. As she raised her head, there back in the doorway, looking like a man who just got smacked in the head by a two-by-four, was the very one who had been tugging at her emotions. He had come back and there he stood gawking at her as she was dressed in nothing but her wet bra and her very skimpy undies. He muttered a loud oath and then he quickly turned his back. He stammered out an apology and Morag said, “T’is alright. Come on lass, back under the covers and I will put the healing salve on your leg.”

  Sinead sort of smiled at the back of Jamie. I do believe I unnerved the big stoic brute! Good to know he is not immune to me, Sinead thought. It was wicked to want to seduce him, but it felt good to know that she probably could. She had been thinking it had been too long a dry spell and well, if she was going to be stuck in medieval Scotland, she may as well enjoy the local attractions. She knew she should be concentrating on what to do to get herself home, but suddenly, the idea of sticking around did not seem so daunting after all. She saw that look on Jamie’s face and it spoke boat loads. She may be the enemy, but he wasn’t too quick to turn away. One thing about Sinead; although she was rather direct at times, being an intellectual and all, she did love the thrill of the chase. It had been a while since she dabbled in the art of flirtation and she suddenly thought it would be quite a fun way to spend her time in this place until she could find a way to get home. That was, unless she decided that this was home. That would yet be determined, but for now, she mused about the possibilities of flirting with the laird’s oldest son.

  As soon as she was settled back into Jamie’s bed, Morag covered her and only exposed the area that had been grazed by the errant arrow. She said, “T’is alright, Jamie. She is covered.”

  Jamie turned back around and his gaze was drawn to the beautiful eyes of the woman who was propped up in his bed. He said, “I came back for some of my clothes. I do apologize fer…stumblin’ in upon ye’.”

  Sinead shrugged one shoulder and smiled at him. She said, “It was my fault for forgetting I was not home.”

  “I’ve no wish to embarrass ye’.”

  “You didn’t. Where I come from, sometimes we wear things called bathing suits and they aren’t as modest as my underwear. I’m sorry if that offends you.”

  Sinead saw a change in his face at her explanation. It was as if a quiet fury bubbled just below the surface. He said gruffly, “So it is normal for lasses to expose their bodies so shamelessly?”

  Sinead was shocked. She hadn’t really done anything wrong, but here she was feeling embarrassed for the first time in a long time about her body. She knew she was in quite good shape but the way Jamie said the last statement made her feel ashamed and mortified. She tried to explain but realized that it would only make things worse. She wanted to flirt, that was true, but she did not want him thinking she was a whore. She had to remember that medieval expectations of women were quite different than what she was used to. Sex was very much still taboo in many ways and though she was certain Jamie MacCollum was no virgin, the scruples of women were something held in quite a different light. She needed to remind herself of that because the last thing she wanted was to offend her hosts in this very difficult situation she had been left to. She said, “I must apologize. I did not wish to offend you or Morag, for that matter. Things are not quite the same in my time. It is not that we expose our bodies shamelessly, exactly, it is just not as …oh, I don’t know how to explain it. Again, I am sorry.”

  Morag just continued to smile. Jamie had gotten a good gander at her newest charge and what a true beauty sh
e was. Nay, he’d not be resistant to her charms! He was a man, after all. He needed a good strong woman and as far as she could tell, Sinead was the perfect selection for just such a man like Jamie. She never even flinched as Morag cleansed the wound with a watered cloth and then applied the salve to it. Morag knew that the mixture had a tendency to sting open flesh but Sinead, never so much as gasped. Instead, it seemed that she could not keep her eyes off of her braw laddie. Good, she thought. This is all very good.

  Morag sent up a silent prayer to the Guardians for it seemed they knew what they were doing when they had sent the lass to this time. Perhaps it was their will after all. Morag tried not to expel a laugh. So she just bit back her grin and called over her shoulder, “Well, lad, what are ye’ waitin’ for?”

  “I beg yer’ padon.”

  “Yer’ clothes, laddie. Yer’ clothes. The lass needs to rest and ye’ said ye’ were comin’ in for some dry clothes.”

  “Oh, aye, my clothes,” he answered, realizing he had been standing in the doorway like a simpleton. Seeing the lass with so little clothing was unnerving to say the least. He had not expected it and worse, he had not expected to be affected by it. He hurried to look into a large, carved chest that was at the foot of his great bed and he lifted the latch. Jamie rummaged through some of his things and he found a clean shirt and some warm trews. He bundled his clothes under his arm and he quickly slammed the chest closed. He stood and looked at Sinead MacDougal and saw she was still smiling at him. She was quite beautiful when she smiled and already her hair was beginning to dry. It had come loose from its tie and it fell about her face in straight, glossy tresses. It was dark, with hints of gold at the tips of it and it framed her head like liquid burnished mink. When she saw he was still looking at her, without speaking another word, she ran her fingers through her hair and pulled it back, only to let it spill down onto her shoulders. She said, “I want to thank you for getting me to the safety of your home.”

  Jamie just nodded and he turned on his heel to leave. Morag let go of the chuckle she had been suppressing and she said, “He is smitten with ye’ lass.”

  “You think? He barely speaks to me. He really got mad about the bathing suit thing.”

  “Lass, Jamie is a man of few words. And we dunna’ have something called a bathing suit. I’m quite sure he did nay even know what ye’ meant.”

  “Oh he got it, alright. He was pretty definite about the opinion of the exposure of the human body.”

  “Och, he is nay so innocent.”

  “I didn’t think so.”

  “T’is just that he…well ye’ are quite intriguing to him. If he is indeed smitten, he can nay think of ye’ exposing yer’ body to others…especially male ‘others’, if ye’ know what I mean.”

  “I do. I forget that things are very very different here. I need to be careful of that.”

  “Ye’ see lass, in his own way, he has claimed ye’.”

  “But I am not his to claim.”

  “Again, different worlds, lass. Different worlds. By claimin’, I dunna’ mean he wants to imprison ye’. He wants ye’ to be protected. And he will nay wish ye’ to be with anyone else.”

  Sinead felt herself laughing at the absurdity of it all. “Well, I am not quite sure yet that I want him to claim me. I mean he is absolutely gorgeous, but I am not ready to be in a ‘claimed’ situation.”

  Morag nodded and with a wistful look in her eyes, she said, “Give it time, lass. Give it time.”

  Chapter 13

  Jamie could not get the image of that woman out of his head. She was not even shy about her attire as she stood there dressed in God knew what for any stranger to see. He did not know if that disturbed him more than the vision of her standing there in those things she called underwear which were far from anything proper. Try as he might, the memory of it was burned in his mind. It had clearly left nothing to his imagination…in fact; he doubted his imagination could have conjured such a fantastical sight. And what a sight it had been! She was perfectly formed. She was taller than many of the women he had known and she was muscular, but not in a masculine way. Her long legs were shapely and toned and they seemed to go on forever in those very meager pants. Her hips were curvy and her belly was flat. His mind danced at the thought of her perfect little navel peeking out from below that black gossamer thing she wore on her upper body, which molded and lifted her breasts deliciously.

  By God, just thinking about it made Jamie’s mouth go dry. He had to stop it. She was his enemy, despite what Morag had said and even if she was not, Jamie knew he could not have faith in her. Even if what Morag had claimed was so, and Jamie was pretty certain he did not believe that wild story, Sinead was not to be trusted. Her name marked her as his enemy and that was the end of it.

  Aye, the image of her standing there, smiling at him, wearing nothing more than scraps of filigree fabric to cover herself made lust surge within him. He was a man after all. Any man would react that way, Jamie was quite certain. Only, the thing was; that Jamie did not like the idea of any other man reacting that way. The thought of some other man looking at her or touching her did not sit well with Jamie.

  Jamie wondered if, what Morag said was true, had she left a lover or a mate behind? She had practically flirted with him in spite of her situation and her injury. Or had she? Was he just imagining that, as well?

  Feckin’ hell! Jamie suddenly felt like he was over-heated again, even though it had only been a few moments since his teeth were chattering from the cold. His body felt hot and he had a mind to go out into the snow and throw himself in a drift to cool his blood. He needed his wits about him, especially if he had to barter a ransom for the lass to the MacDougal.

  Jamie took himself to the private antechamber of his father. Caleb MacCollum would know what was best to do. Jamie thanked God for the calm voice of reason that his father always had been. He felt lucky that his father was still a hale and young enough man to rule over the clan with wisdom and kindness. Aye, his father was a warrior in his own right, but it was tempered with mercy and compassion. Jamie wished he could be one tenth of the man Caleb MacCollum was.

  He knocked on his father’s door and in hearing no answer Jamie let himself in and sat down. He would just wait. No doubt, Caleb would return soon. He would offer Jamie counsel and the problem of Sinead MacDougal would be solved. The sooner he could send her back to where she belonged; be it to the MacDougal himself or to the preposterous time that Morag claimed she had come from, the better they would all be. That would really be for the best, Jamie tried to reason with himself, but when he thought of that beautiful woman, tucked up in his bed, Jamie had a hard time convincing himself of it. Now that she was here, part of Jamie did not wish to see her gone. In fact, he rather liked the notion of getting to know her a little; at least to see if he could gather information from her. He told himself the lie over and over a few times as if to force himself to believe it. It turned out that he did not even after trying to brand it into his heart with repetition.

  ⌘⌘⌘⌘⌘⌘

  Caleb stomped the caked snow off of his boots. He had not seen a storm like this in many years. Mayhap, the last one was the year his beautiful Mairgred had left the world. There was a bad snowfall then, too. The cold had been so complete, that it sapped what little strength his wife had fought to maintain. The birth of their daughter had taken a terrible toll on Mairgred and she soon lost the fight after that. Bronwyn had grown up never really knowing her mother and it was a pity, too. Caleb shook out his cloak and tried to shake off the melancholy memories of so long ago with it. It was just the raging storm that had brought him back to that sad time. This was a different day and he had too many things to concern himself with as Laird of the MacCollum Clan to coddle sentimental feelings of by-gone days. Och, how he still missed her, though. Especially on a day like this. There was nothing more comforting than to seek the warmth of his woman when the cold had gotten into his very bones.

  Alas, there was business to
attend to. As he had approached the stables, he had been accosted by some of his clan with news of a stranger who had been brought to the keep. He did not know what it was about, but the appearance of strangers in the midst of a blinding snow storm was not usually a good thing. He wondered where the stranger had been brought and where had the stranger come from. Caleb supposed he would find out soon enough. He had been riding out on the land early that morn when the sky darkened and changed with each passing second. It was nearly time to prepare for the Yule celebrations but stores had to be checked and the granaries had to be secured so that their supplies would last through the winter. They were used to inclement weather in the Highlands, but this particular storm was shaping up to be a beast of a tempest.

  When Caleb had returned, he was told about how Jamie had been sieged upon with his two other brothers. Caleb was just glad to learn that none of his sons had been killed that day. The appearance of the mysterious stranger could be a portent of warning or of danger. Either way, it must have had something to do with the ambush set upon his sons. He would get to the bottom of it and he would seek retribution where it was due, that Caleb was certain. He could feel the anger rising within him at the thought of an ambush upon his sons. Perhaps the warming of his bones would have to wait.

  Caleb turned the handle on the door leading into his private council. There, standing before the hearth was Jamie, his eldest son. Grateful to see him alive and well after the news he had received, Caleb said, “Son, yer’ alright. I heard that ye’ had been attacked.”

  “Aye, by the MacDougals…or so I thought. But they were out for murder, Da’. This was nay just a sheep raidin’.”

  Caleb nodded silently. It was true. The MacDougals had been a pain in the arse for years now, but they had never taken it to the next level and caused out and out bloodshed. Why was this raid different? Caleb waited while Jamie paced about. He could see his son was mightily disturbed over the matter and until he told the tale of the day, Caleb would not make any rash assumptions.