by Ria Cantrell
There was something quite amiss about Jamie’s demeanor. Out of all of his sons, Jamie was the least prone to bouts of hot-headed anger, but as Caleb observed him, he could see it was more than the attack that was troubling his son.
“Da’, they took some of my prized ewes and they left a trail that a simpleton could follow. I guess I was that simpleton indeed for I let the idea of the raid of my sheep cloud my judgment. I followed the trail into the hills past Morag’s Ridge and took two of my brothers with me. I could have gotten them all killed, Da’. I could have gotten them killed.”
Caleb took a deep breath. It was true; the day could have ended in tragedy for his family and for his clan. Jamie was not always keen to wanting to take over as Laird when Caleb’s time came and he worried that sometimes his rash decisions would not lead his people well when he left the world, but it was these terrible lessons that strengthened his son and gave him the perspective that a leader needed. Caleb found himself thanking God for the blessing of this day, after all.
Jamie continued, “We were ridin’ and my brothers were hard pressed to follow me, so focused on retreivin’ those bloody sheep, was I. Li and Ruiri both had a bad feelin’ about it, but I would nay listen, Da’. Ruiri’s damned instincts are so honed. I should have known to trust them. When Liam agreed, I started to believe that something was wrong about the day. The sheep were a ruse! A bloody feckin’ ruse!”
Jamie pounded his hand upon the mantle. It rattled under his heavy fist and he said, “Almost at once we were set upon. Li and Ruiri acted quickly and by the grace of the One Power, they were nay hit. Not with the arrows that had rained down upon us, nor by those who wished to put us to the sword.”
“And yer’ certain t’was the MacDougals, then?”
Jamie’s brow drew inward and his lips snarled into a deep frown.
“I was certain t’were those bloody bastards, but….”
“But what? Were they not sportin’ the colors of MacDougal?”
“The storm came upon us almost as quickly as the ambush. I could nay see one plaid for another.”
Jamie swallowed deeply. The image of Sinead standing amid the falling snow shouting out a warning played before his eyes. That was quickly replaced with the one of her standing in her shocking underthings when he had intruded upon her accidentally.
Caleb went toward the mantle. The warmth of the fire did him good. Placing a hand on Jamie’s arm, he brought Jamie out of his momentary reverie.
“Son, ye’ need not berate yerself. In learning to be a leader, ye’ sometimes have to learn the grave mistakes that a Laird canna’ afford to make. Ye’ have arrived unscathed and the lesson has been learned, I reckon.”
Jamie felt a wave of guilt assault his senses. He could have gotten them all killed, he was reminded, and instead of worrying about that, he was thinking about that beautiful creature in his chambers; the woman who may or may not be his mortal enemy.
“Da’…there’s more.”
“I thought as much. Go on, then.”
“It may no’ have been the MacDougals after all, although, I am still nay convinced entirely that t’were not those thieving bastards. We were told t’was the MacKenzies who wished treachery upon us this day.”
“Told? Who would have told ye’ such a thing?”
Jamie struggled with how to explain that a spy for the MacDougal clan had saved his sorry hide and that she lay up in his chambers now being tended for an arrow wound meant for his very own heart.
“We have a prisoner…well not a prisoner exactly, but perhaps a spy taken from the fray.”
“Well, then, what are we waitin’ for, son? Take me to him so I may question him accordingly.”
If Jamie could look as sheepish as one of his ewes, it was now. Bowing his head in further defeat and humiliation before his father, he said, “Her, Da’. Ye’ will need to question her! She is being tended to by Morag. I have placed her in my chambers.”
“A woman? The MacKenzies sent a female spy to do their dirty work?”
Jamie shook his head no.
“She’s a MacDougal, Father, and she saved my life.”
Chapter 14
Caleb MacCollum was pretty certain he was not prepared for the information that his son had just given him. A female MacDougal spy was being housed in his keep; possibly responsible for the rout upon his offspring. If she was a spy, why would she have saved Jamie’s life? And how could a mere woman save a big man like Jamie? Caleb put those thoughts aside. The woman would need to be dealt with.
“Woman or not, lad, I must question her.”
“Morag is tendin’ her now. She got struck by an arrow as I rode away with her. Da’, she has made a mad claim. I dunna’ know what to make of it.”
“What sort of claim? And how in hell’s name did she save yer’ life?”
“She saved my life by screamin’ out a warning for me to go back. She knew of the trap. T’is why I am no’ certain that it wasn’t the MacDougal treachery after all.”
“Well, son, last I heard the MacDougal and MacKenzie have no great love for one another. Perhaps she was tellin’ ye’ the truth. How did she come by bein’ in the midst of the storm to warn ye’?”
“That’s the mad part, Da’. She claims to nay be from our time…says she comes from a span many years from now. If she weren’t so damned beautiful, I’d say she was completely mad and I would nay even worry about her MacDougal name for her lunacy would be reason enough to imprison her and ransom her. That is, if the MacDougal would want so mad a woman back.”
Caleb smiled despite the dire situation that had unfolded this day. “Beautiful is she?”
Jamie faced his father and said gruffly, “Never mind that, Da’. She is a MacDougal by her own admission and she may be a mad one at that. Another time! Honestly, I dunna’ know who is more mad. Sinead MacDougal or Nan Morag.”
“Morag? What’s Morag got to do with this?”
Jamie rolled his eyes and replied, “Oh Da’, ye’ would nay believe me if I told ye’. Morag claims it is so and that the woman is from a distant time. That she came through time to warn me…to save me. Can ye’ believe such foolery?”
With the smile dying on his face, Caleb replied soberly, “I have ne’er known Nan Morag to be dishonest. Nor has she ever shown signs of madness in all the years she has served as chatelaine and governess of this family. Morag is a very special woman and I believe the Gifts of the Ancients she possesses are too many for us to understand. If Morag believes it is so, than I shall have to consider the truth of it.”
“Look, Da’, Morag nay only believes it. She had an outlandish claim that she herself has been able to walk through the eras.”
Caleb gave careful thought to his son’s words. Stroking the beard upon his chin, Caleb replied, “Hmm, that would explain, much I suppose.”
“What do ye’ mean?”
“The times when we canna’ find Morag; when she seemingly has vanished into the hills; when we think she is just off on some healing or scrying mission, perhaps she is nay able to be found because she walks in another time.”
“Oh honestly, Da’. Ye’ canna’ believe such nonsense. I understood her claim for just giving way to Morag being on in age. Surely, ye’ are nay of the same mind as she.”
Caleb studied his son’s face and then said, “Make no mistake, lad. There is nothing addled about Nan Morag. She may be as old as the Ancients herself, but her mind is as clear as it was when she was a young girl. If Morag claims she walks through the Wheel of Time, I can assure ye’ that she does. If she believes yer’, er, prisoner, I would have to say I may be forced to as well.”
“Father, Sinead is not from another time. She is a very good liar, at best.”
“A beautiful liar, Jamie?”
Jamie felt heat rise in his face. Beautiful was not even the word. Sinead MacDougal was the most sensual and alluring woman he had ever rested his eyes upon. If he thought long enough on her, he could still feel her pressed into
his body as he rode to MacCollum Keep. He could still feel her lush curves fitting wickedly in between his thighs as he spurred his mount to return home. He could still see her in those tantalizing underthings as he happened upon her in his chambers.
“Aye, she is beautiful…and she is a liar! And a bloody feckin’ MacDougal,” Jamie roared, not wanting to even give merit to thoughts of Sinead’s beauty.
“Who saved yer’ life, by yer’ own admission.”
Jamie spewed out an oath and Caleb finished warming himself by the fire. He said, “Perhaps ye’ best take me to yer’ hostage, Jamie. I will wish to question her myself. Then I can determine how we should best protect ourselves from both the MacDougal and MacKenzie threats.” Caleb hid his smile. He was certain that his son would not be able to protect himself from their unexpected visitor detained in Jamie’s chambers.
⌘⌘⌘⌘⌘⌘
Caleb knocked sharply on the heavy hinged door to Jamie’s chambers. He heard the distinct voice of Morag, his oldest and truest friend, say, “Come.”
Pushing the door open, Caleb peered into the room. There was a warm fire casting a glow amid the granite of the walls and there, propped in Jamie’s big bed was the woman who had saved his son’s life. Morag had seen to it that she was covered and so nothing indecent could have been rendered from her position in Jamie’s bed. She was indeed lovely. Thick dark hair hung about her face damply, drying into soft waves after being wet with fallen snow. She had the face of an angel with eyes the color of a stormy aquamarine sea. Her face, though pale from her ordeal, Caleb supposed, was wind burnt upon her cheeks. It made her appear to be blushing, but Caleb was almost certain she was not.
Though she was clearly in a strange place and perhaps even in a strange time, if what Jamie had claimed was true, she sat there with the self-assuredness of a queen. She should have been terrified, but Caleb could see, clearly, she was not. Her demeanor was quite different than many women he knew, but having known Morag his entire life, Caleb thought there was more of that same determination and fortitude that the Old One always possessed in this strange woman, cast upon their doorsteps.
Caleb watched as Jamie pushed his way into the room, with his arms crossed about his chest as he warily stole glimpses of the woman. He smiled. His son, for all his bluster about remaining a single man, to live his life among the sheep, was smitten with the lass. There was no denying it. He was trying to make himself appear gruff and unaffected, but Caleb knew better. Jamie could scarcely take his eyes off of her. Caleb saw the lass’ eyes widen at the intrusion and so he smiled at his “guest” and said, “Laird Caleb MacCollum, at yer service.”
“Laid MacCollum, please forgive me for not rising. It seems I suffered a bit of an injury and I.…”
“M’lady, I am sorry ye’ have been hurt. I do hope Morag helped ease yer’ pain somewhat. By all means, take yer’ comfort as ye’ can. My son tells me ye’ are a MacDougal. Is that so?”
“I am, but I am not your enemy. I come from, well a time and place where we do not war with your people.”
Caleb nodded slowly. If what Jamie had said was true, and the more he watched the girl, the more he believed it; then perhaps their clans were no longer enemies. Time had a way of leveling all playing fields to be certain. Caleb wondered what could have happened to change the animosity between his clan and that of the MacDougal for it seemed they would always be at opposing sides. Caleb pulled a wooden stool up to the side of the bed and he sat down. Jamie still stood with his arms wrapped tightly about his chest and he looked as if he was to assure that peace between the clans would never come. Not now; not in the years to come. Caleb knew better. He calmly said, “Lass, do ye’ know how ye’ came to be here?”
“You believe me?”
“Until ye’ prove a lie, I have no choice but to believe ye’. It seems our chatelaine and Healer believes ye’.”
“Aye, Caleb. I do.”
“Hmmm, aye. Ye’ and I shall speak later in private. For now, I need to learn what danger awaits MacCollum. If it is not from the MacDougal, then I need to know what to prepare for.”
“Sir, I know it is hard to believe. I barely believe it myself, but it was not the MacDougals that sought to cause tragedy upon your house this day. It was the MacKenzies.”
“Aye, so Jamie explained. And ye’ know this how, exactly?”
Sinead looked at Morag and saw the expression of horror on her face. She had already admonished her for changing the course of history, but what could she do? It was what happened. She had to tell it, or she could be held as a spy for the Clan MacDougal. Sinead’s life depended on her telling the truth. Even though the laird seemed kindly, Sinead knew well enough that a man did not become laird of a clan by being kind. He was a lethal warrior in his own right and Sinead knew better than to provoke his ire. Reminding herself to not show fear, for bravery was highly prized in the medieval world, Sinead calmly responded, “Sir, I was reading about the history of this place. I work in a museum…uhm, that’s a place where we preserve artifacts from the past and we had received a shipment of manuscripts. They were dated back to this time and they recounted a short battle that had come about.”
“The one ye’ stumbled upon in yer fall through time?”
Sinead nodded. Her eyes seemed to grow larger as the flickering flames danced and threw shadows against the wall.
“And this manuscript told of the death of my son?”
“Yes, sir. I don’t know why, but I was greatly saddened by the story. I found myself....”
Sinead glanced over at the man who had protected her and carried her to his room so that she could be helped. None of the imagined tenderness was present in his stance or in his features. In fact, they had seemingly turned to stone and he was a hardened warrior once again. He still was drop-dead gorgeous, though, even with his jaw set in ire. He didn’t like her. He sure as hell didn’t trust her, Sinead could tell that. She was not sure she blamed him, but she wished he wouldn’t look at her like she was waiting to slip a knife into him.
Dirk…they were called dirks…he looked like he was waiting to be stabbed with a dirk. I’m not going to hurt you Jamie. I came to prevent you from dying. I don’t know what my being here has done to history, but I am very glad you are not dead; at least you have not died today.
Sinead did not know if she should tell how she had wished to be able to help Jamie and that how she did not want him to die. She was afraid he would use such knowledge against her somehow. She clamped her mouth shut and did not finish that part of it.
“Go on, lass. Ye’ found yerself’ what?”
“I…I found myself here. I don’t know how or why I got here but when I realized I wasn’t in Kansas anymore, I knew I had to try to prevent Jamie from getting killed.”
“Kansas? Is that where yer’ museum is? Is that the name of the town where ye’ come from?”
“Oh, no. Sorry. It was just an expression. I am from a place called New York. It is a big city. Kansas is another place in the country I live in, but I digress. I just did not really think at all at the time of the attack but I knew that your sons were heading straight for an ambush.”
“And yer’ manuscripts told ye’ it was the MacKenzie?”
“The person who wrote the words was very clear about that. The person wanted it to be known that it was not the MacDougals at all, but the MacKenzies. They had plotted a ruse to lure Jamie in particular to the clearing and they wanted to do nothing but murder. In taking your other sons, as well, as part of the package, I suspect it was to assure the lineage of the MacCollum lairdship to be greatly compromised.”
Morag mumbled, “Bloody MacKenzies. May they all rot in hell! Every last one of them!”
Sinead could see that the hatred ran deep and to this old woman, it seemed to cut her to the core of her heart for some reason. Just mentioning the name of the MacKenzie clan forced a change to come upon Morag and Sinead knew that these were bitter feuds that had harmed so many through the years. Sh
e suspected that the MacKenzies had done something very personal to Morag; something that she could never forgive and certainly never forget. Sinead was again reminded how different things were in medieval Scotland. Survival was harder than living.
“I just had to help and once I was sent here, I had to see that the day ended differently. I know it is ridiculous to think you would believe me, but I swear to you that it is so.”
“She’s lying.”
Sinead’s eyes flashed in the firelight and she said, “I am not. You don’t have to thank me for saving your life, Jamie MacCollum, but I’d thank you not to call me a liar.”
“Savin’ my life! T’was I who saved yer’ life, as I recall.”
Sinead mumbled, “Men…no matter what time they live in they are all the same. Assholes!”
Caleb tried not to chuckle at the girl’s outburst. She had a mouth like a sailor but he found it rather endearing. She was a tough little thing. Why, just the fact that she had endured what had already happened to her; the very least of it being struck with an errant arrow, showed Caleb what this woman was made of. A girl like her would be the perfect mate for the future laird of the clan. That was, of course, if she did not kill Jamie herself.
Caleb did not need to hear more. He had already made his determination. The girl was not lying. Not only that, she could not lie if she wanted to. Something about her told Caleb all he needed to know. This girl was so steeped in the truth that if her life depended on it, she would not lie. Caleb was a good judge of men, and sometimes of women, too. There was a deep sense of honor about this strange and beautiful woman from the future eras. It was good to know that with the passing of time, there would still be people who aspired to those codes of honor that Caleb held dear.
He took the girl’s hand and brought it to his lips. He said, “I do hope ye’ will heal quickly. We will see to it that ye’ have every comfort we can offer ye.”