Time of the Celts: A Time Travel Romance (Hadrian's Wall Book 1)

by Jane Stain

  This fort was not a good place.

  Two other men haggled Jaelle down the long dark windowless hall into the courtyard, where a toga’d officiant was waiting. Oddly, there was nobody else out in the courtyard except the officiant and Marcus. The men deposited Jaelle in front of the officiant, waited for a nod from Marcus, and then went off toward the gateway outside.

  The officiant stood there looking bored, with his eyes far off in the distance over the wall of the fort into the mountains.

  Lovely.

  She was practically alone with Marcus.

  Her mouth didn’t like that either.

  “How do I rate a toga anyway, Marcus? What makes you think I’m marriage material?”

  He gave her a shrewd but amused look.

  “Well the way I see it, Breth is nobility of a sort among his people ― and he chose you, which means you are worthy of him. Oh, don’t try to deny it. I saw the way he looked at you. He’s very smitten, you know. Therefore, in the Roman way, your status carries over into our society, thus making you eligible as my bride.”

  Well that wasn’t the answer she wanted.

  “Nobility isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

  He laughed.

  “Don’t tell me you would rather join the ranks of slaves.”

  She put on a mockery of being shocked, placing her palm on her chest.

  “You mean it matters what I would prefer? Well in that case, let me and all the other women go. In fact, pack up all your stuff and go back to Rome where you belong.”

  He gave her that evil grin again, laughing at her, rather than with her.

  “Ironically, before you showed up, that’s exactly what I wanted. But now I think I might enjoy staying here and fathering children.”

  Incredulous, she smiled on one side of her mouth, lowering the same eyebrow at him while throwing her hand up to the side.

  “You only picked me because you knew it would break Breth’s heart, so let’s not pretend you’re actually interested in me for my charm and wit.”

  At this, Marcus threw back his head and laughed.

  “I’m definitely starting to enjoy myself. Now let’s get on with the ceremony so we can get on with… the rest of it.”

  Casting about for anything to keep this wedding from going forward — not that she would feel obligated to honor a marriage taken under duress — she grabbed the sword the officiant wore and drove it hard at Marcus.

  At first he just stood there with his jaw dropping.

  "You dare?"

  But then drawing his own sword, Marcus came at her with a calm seriousness that was more frightening than it would have been if he had lost control of his temper. His considerable weight was a large disadvantage, though. He was slow going.

  Guessing that most of the reason he was going slow ― aside from the toga ― was that he knew his weight would cause him to tire quickly, Jaelle retreated across the courtyard, forcing him to run after.

  It worked.

  He was out of breath and huffing after her.

  She checked the officiant, but he was still acting bored, as if he had no idea what was going on. Maybe he was on drugs. Or maybe he knew what was good for him.

  Resisting the urge to laugh at Marcus and thus give him a chance to catch up to her, Jaelle pushed her advantage and rushed at him with her sword high in the air and chopped down.

  Wheezing, Marcus raised his sword and blocked her.

  Hearing battle sounds outside the fort, Jaelle’s spirits rose. Breth!

  She continued to criss cross the courtyard, hacking and slashing at Marcus and making him run after her for fear she would escape in the absence of his soldiers, who must be outside fighting. She would let Marcus just about catch up to her, and then she would turn around and rush at him, forcing him to stop and pivot and raise his sword in defense.

  She gave him no opportunities for offense whatsoever. She was cocky, but she wasn't stupid. He was much stronger than she, even if he was in terrible shape. No, her two advantages were speed and endurance, and she used them.

  It seemed like forever that this running about continued, but finally the Pictish warriors rallied into the courtyard.

  And there was Breth, calling her name.

  “Jaelle!”

  She continued to fight Marcus off until Breth got there to take over the job for her, to finish it. She hadn't killed anyone yet, and she knew she could, but she would rather not.

  At last, Breth took over.

  Jaelle was just standing there admiring Breth’s sword-fighting form ― and watching with abated breath to make sure he was winning and she didn’t have to move in and help him ― when out of the corner of her eye she saw Nechtan, running at her and swinging the bag with the helmet in it.

  If he threw the helmet, only God knew where it would end up.

  She couldn’t let the druid do that.

  Tearing her eyes away from Breth ― whom she only now realized she must already love in some crude primal way ― Jaelle prepared to push the little druid to the ground and stop him from throwing the helmet over the wall.

  Only that wasn’t what Nechtan was doing.

  He was making that gesture he had made a few days earlier in the sacred grove, when he had animated the vines in retaliation against Deoord's vines. It had been an impressive and powerful show of natural power.

  Jaelle braced herself for the onslaught.

  But the vines didn't come.

  Looking down, she saw why. Of course. The courtyard of the fort was paved with stones cut by man. The ground wasn't in its natural state. As she looked, though, odd strains of moss hurriedly grew up out of the cracks between the stones.

  She smirked at the little man.

  “Really? That’s all you can muster, moss?”

  Laughing a mocking laugh at the impotent druid, she turned to face him.

  And then she understood the moss. It was slick, and in her haste to push the little man over, she slipped.

  The druid was swinging the bag in an arc that would make the heavy iron helmet connect with Jaelle’s head.

  She raised her arms up from their position designed to push the little man over.

  But it was too late.

  Passing over her arms, the bag with the helmet in it completed its arc and swung toward her head.

  As she fell from slipping on the moss, Jaelle looked for the man she admired more than any she had ever met. The man she was only just beginning to get to know. And love. The man she wanted to be with.

  There he was, still alive.

  Still fighting.

  And oh, thank God, he was winning, stabbing Marcus fatally.

  Good.

  The helmet hit her just before she would have banged into the paving stones of the courtyard. A blinding flash of pain took over her whole head just before she blacked out.

  Twenty-Four

  Jaelle woke up in her basement with a pounding headache. Looking around at all the empty beer bottles, she groaned. Would she never learn?

  And she hadn’t gotten much work done. She was still surrounded by all of John’s boxes full of who knew what. She was wearing the clothes she had dreamed of wearing and the Roman helmet she remembered taking out of one of the boxes. Huh. She must have taken these clothes out of the boxes, too.

  Feh, this helmet was heavy! How she had managed to fall asleep in it was beyond her. She took it off and put it back in the box.

  But what a dream!

  She paused to relive it for a moment.

  Naked warriors and mini-skirted Roman soldiers, druids who pulled vines up out of the ground to tangle people and then betrayed you to the Romans for not choosing them over the sexy warrior, a broch full and complete with five floors and a roof that also acted as a chimney?

  Wow.

  She’d always had a vivid imagination, but last night it was working overtime. Ugh, too bad that dreamy Breth wasn’t real. Talk about a man!

  The cold hard cement floor brought
her back to reality.

  What time was it, anyway?

  Huh, her phone was out of juice. It had been fully charged just last night. She went upstairs and plugged it in to charge while she took a much needed shower. How had she managed to get so sweaty while sleeping in the cold basement?

  Once plugged in, her phone came to life.

  Well that was odd. She could have sworn it was the twenty first when she went to sleep, but no. Wow, she must have really overdone it with the beer this time. Today was the thirty first. And she had work. Her bus came in forty-five minutes.

  She took off the old fashioned clothes she had dreamed about. She would put them back in the basement later. Right now she just barely had time to get ready for work. She did her normal bathroom routine, threw on some jeans — her second favorite pair, because her favorites weren't in her closet. They must be in the laundry. No time to go back down to the basement and see. She stuck her half-charged phone in her purse with her overdue library book and skedaddled, just making it to the bus stop in time.

  During the half hour ride, she got out her phone to answer her messages. Whoa. She had way too many for this time of the morning. She would tackle them at lunch, and ― oh, there was one from Amber. On seeing it, shame hit Jaelle. She hadn't left things that well with her oldest friend.

  She should call Amber, but not right now. Wait until she had enough time to do a call justice.

  For now, she prepared an email:

  Amber, let's talk. I don't feel like we left things well last night. Sorry I was so short with you about how happy you are with Tomas. Glad you guys are happy. Just understand that I'm still upset…

  Jaelle paused at that.

  She wasn't upset about John anymore. No, she was upset that the man she had dreamed about, Breth, was just a dream and not real.

  She relaxed and leaned her head back against the cushioned bus seat, letting her mind wander to that wonderful dream. Now there was a man! Strong, able, and decisive, yet still tender and considerate. He was someone she really wanted to get to know better.

  She laughed at herself, startling the woman sitting next to her on the bus, who seemed to be checking if Jaelle was one of those crazies.

  Jaelle held the phone up and jiggled it a little bit. She was telling a lie, but she really didn't want to get into it. She had to get off the bus soon and wouldn't have time to do the story justice.

  And then her mouth went off anyway.

  "I had a dream last night about the perfect man. He was gorgeous, and he understood me. And then I woke up."

  The woman smiled in sympathy.

  "Don't worry. You'll find the right one someday."

  Jaelle smiled in thanks.

  "That was nice of you to say. Well, you have a nice day. This is my stop."

  She gestured toward the door with her head.

  The woman smiled kindly.

  "You as well. Things will look up, you'll see."

  Feeling oddly comforted, Jaelle got off the bus and headed over to Vivian's diner. It was true. Things were looking up. It was good news that she was finally getting over John, even if it had taken a dream to help her get over him.

  But feh.

  When she went into the diner, she saw Richard, a fussy, long-haired, bearded man who had brought exhibits to the museum before. Funny, she hadn’t ever noticed just how tall and broad Richard was. She thought of him as a mousy man, but he made the diner chair look like a toy.

  He waved and gestured her over to his table.

  That was odd. He hadn’t ever been friendly before, just told her about the new exhibits along with all the other tour guides.

  Vivian came up and put an arm around Jaelle.

  "Hi, hun." And then under her breath, "Is that guy over there bothering you? Just say the word and I'll get rid of him."

  Jaelle chuckled.

  "No, it's okay. He's associated with the museum. Going to have to talk to him when I get over there anyway, so may as well start now. Maybe that will make things less rushed than they usually are, although I doubt it."

  Vivian scrunched her nose up at Jaelle in a look of sympathy and then nodded and walked away with the coffeepot to fill someone's cup.

  "Okay, just remember I have your back."

  Jaelle returned the gesture.

  "Thanks."

  Steeling herself for some tedium during what was usually reading time, Jaelle went over and stood by Richard's table.

  “Hello. I guess you have a new exhibit for us, huh?”

  Richard gestured for Jaelle to sit with him, another first.

  And his eyes pierced right into her.

  “Aye, and it will interest you, I think. It’s about the history of Hadrian's Wall. It includes some actual pieces from the Wall, and they have markings you may recognize.”

  “Why would I recognize them?”

  “Oh, several reasons. Don’t you know this man, for example?”

  He showed her a close-up picture of part of his exhibit. There was a carving of a warrior smaller in stature than some others. And the way he wielded his sword was unique. Because John had invented it.

  ***

  Get the next book in the Hadrian’s Wall trilogy! Time of the Picts by Jane Stain