“Ye flatter me, Sorely. Have ye seen yer cousin since ye returned?” She couldn’t say why but she was growing nervous and she held out her hand for her reins.
Sorely, whether he noticed or not, kept the reigns out of reach.
“Conal, ye mean? Aye, I was just there although I didn’a get to spend too much time with him. He was entertaining a lass from Derry. Shall we ride together? We can catch up.”
Sive swallowed hard. He had to be lying. Conal was hers and he wasn’t like that. “I’ve got to head on. Da will be looking for me.” She reached for the reins and took them from him. She didn’t care for the way he stared at her bosom as she bent forward.
“That’s unfortunate for me. Is Uilliam back from the Parish of Drumachose already? I heard he’d gone to Dungiven Castle to meet with Naill Ó Catháin.”
“Aye, naught but a momentary disruption to work out.”
“I shouldn’t like to dash yer spirits, lass, but I canna see things farin’ well.”
“Whatever do ye mean?”
“Ye haven’t heard? Yer kin killed Conal’s brother.”
“Shane? Who would’ve done that?”
“I canna say for sure which one of the McQuillan lads but I think they caught him. 'Tis lucky the Ó Catháin’s didn’a kill the louse outright. He deserves it, to be sure, but instead they’ve ransomed him. That’s most likely why yer Da is there, to negotiate his release.”
“Ye’re mistaken,” Sive said in a suffocated voice.
Sorely shook his head. “I amn’t.”
“My wedding...” Sive looked down at him rather wildly.
“Aye, I’m sorry, lass, but it’ll be a frosty day in hell before that happens. Yer Da’s not pleased, but there isn’a much he can do. Both sides of the clans are after blood. Conal tried to reason with his men but the lot of them are just too hard-headed.”
Sive just stared, stunned by the news.
“Never ye fret, Sive McQuillan, there’s nothing so bad that it couldn’t be worse. Ye’ll find another lad to warm yer bed. There’s always Clan MacDonnell.”
NINE
Northern Ireland, Present Day
I struggled to consciousness with a sigh. The Inn’s room was dark except for a soft orange glow emanating from the fireplace. Stretching, I listened for a noise, something that might have waked me. The room was quiet and Cullen was still in bed beside me. I could feel the warmth of his thigh against my own. His breathing was even.
I reached out to touch him, my fingers brushing gently across his chest. Reluctantly, I pulled back and rolled away, untangling myself from his arms.
As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I surveyed the room. Pale shafts of light spilled in through the window. The room was certainly charming by moonlight. The beams danced along the walls, illuminating a tapestry similar to the one I’d seen at the castle—a family crest of a knight’s helmet. My mind wandered back to yesterday. Surely a tapestry would have been a good place to hide a secret entrance but we’d found nothing. Leslie and I had searched the castle from top to bottom while Cullen met with his team, and if a hidden room existed, it was hidden remarkably well.
I sighed. My mind was growing more active by the minute, imagining the Castle’s hidden room. I’d been hungry and exhausted when we’d looked; perhaps having another go at it today would prove more fruitful. After all, my track record was good, I’d found two secret passages in a previous life—one in a fireplace and one in a wardrobe. I could sniff this one out. I just needed another go at it.
I was too excited to remain in bed. Cautiously, I stuck a foot out of the pile of blankets and with a sleepy yawn, I left the warm comfort of Cullen’s body and searched for my suitcase. After I’d dressed warmly, I made my way to the door with the box of documents in hand. The hallway beyond was darker than our room and I took a hesitant step down the stairs.
Slowly, quietly, I roamed farther down the Inn’s staircase until I came to be in the sitting room. Moonlight seeped around the corners of drapery hanging from a window. The dim light kept the room from being pitch black, but still relegated its contents to deep shadow. With cautious steps, I crossed the floor to the table lamp in the corner. I reached out in search of a knob or switch, stopping in mid-motion when I heard a noise. Heart pounding, I looked into the blackness of the room. Was someone there? It was simply too dark to see. I strained into the darkness, listening intently. Silence surrounded me.
How much time had to pass before I stopped being afraid that I would turn around and see Liam standing there with his faintly mocking smile. Liam was dead. I was safe, I knew it.
So why did I feel so horridly vulnerable? For the past few days I’d had the suffocating sensation that someone was spying on me again. No matter how hard I tried to reassure myself that Liam was dead—I was still consumed by a morbid unease. Every instinct I possessed warned me that something was—or was about to go—terribly wrong. Having been pulled through time more than once now, and hunted by an obsessed maniac, I had learned to listen to my instincts. They were almost always right on target.
But my instincts had been wrong about Liam. I’d loved him from the beginning. Only when it was too late had I understood that I’d overlooked all the signs, that I’d been a fool.
I let out my breath with a whoosh and laughed at myself. Of course, there was nobody in here. It was four in the morning and everyone was fast asleep as they should be. Calmed by the silence, I switched on the light and took a seat on the couch. After a half an hour of looking over the castle’s floor plans the glorious smell of coffee reached me.
I expected to find one of the Innkeepers in the kitchen, but instead found a dark-haired man standing next to the coffee pot. It surprised me, although it shouldn’t have. This was an Inn after all. There had to be more than just us in the place.
“Care to share?” I said, pulling out a chair at the kitchen table.
The man smiled and extended a mug in my direction. “Aye, but drink at your own risk. I’m not quite sure how to make the stuff. It’s entirely possible that it tastes like dirt.”
“You don’t know how to make coffee?” I questioned.
He had to be at least twenty-five years old. How could he not know how to brew a decent cup of coffee? I sipped the liquid cautiously. It was strong but delicious.
“Never had the need. I drank tea as a lad and since then someone else is always beating me to the kitchen, plus there’s all those delicious café’s in Dublin.” He smiled and threw his hands up. “‘Tis a bachelor thing to say, I guess.”
I smiled and took another gulp. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been a bachelor.”
“You must be Cullen’s wan? Yer man mostly refers to ye as Aeval, but I don’t believe that’s yer name.”
I smiled and shook his hand. “It’s a nickname he has for me. Please call me Sophia.”
“Pleased to meet ye, Sophia. I’m Sam.” He released my hand and took a step back to glance around the room.
“Sam—as in our new boss—Samuel MacDonnell, owner of Dunlace Castle?” It was Leslie’s voice that spoke. She flipped her hair and wet her lips as she stepped into the kitchen in little more than an oversized plaid shirt.
Sam laughed. “Aye, I am the castle’s owner but I’m no fit to be anyone’s boss.” Leslie stepped forward until she stood next to him. She reached out to take his hand and their eyes connected.
I cleared my throat, “Cullen says the castle means a great deal to you.”
“Ahh, it does. It was built by the MacQuillan family in the thirteenth century. They lost it to my ancestors, the MacDonnells, in the 16th,” Sam replied, his eyes still firmly planted on Leslie. “Have ye seen the castle?”
“Cullen took us there yesterday,” Leslie responded before I had the chance.
“So he did. I was supposed to join ye, now, wasn’t I, but didn’t I get delayed. Just got in late last night.” The man finally let go of Leslie’s hand, “I’m glad ye lasses are on board. I’d like to rest
ore things as accurately as possible, and knowing the full history would surely help.” I noticed a strain in his voice as he finished speaking and I turned to see the innkeeper’s wife standing in the doorway. She was scowling. Most likely she didn’t approve of Leslie’s choice of attire.
TEN
Northern Ireland, November 1551
C ome in and have a seat, daughter. I’ve news to share.”
Tension crept up Sive’s spine as she took the seat across from her Da. All she could think of was Sorely Boy’s comment with regards to her wedding. It’ll be a frosty day in hell before that happens.
Her father had barely been home an hour and she had no idea how his visit had gone.
“I’ve sent a messenger to Dún an Aonaigh. Ye’re to be married.”
Sive didn’a believe herself capable of such happiness. He was sending a messenger to the surrounding clans to announce the wedding. How wonderful. He had worked it out with Niall. “Da, I’m thrilled. Does Conal know?”
“Now, dinna go getting’ ahead of yerself, lass. Ye will no like what I’m about to tell ye.”
Sive sobered. “But Da…”
“Ye’ll not be wed to Conal.”
“Then who?”
“The Warrior Chieftain of the MacDonnell Clan.”
“Sorely Boy. But…”
“I’ve not discussed the arrangement with him yet, but Saundra says she does not foresee him turnin’ us down, aye.”
The idea of marrying Sorely Boy was suffocating. Conal and Sorely Boy were cousins—they were practically brothers. If she remained unwed then at least she would have been free to carry on with Conal when no one was watching, but Sorely Boy would kill her if he caught her with Conal. She could feel her spirit retreating farther and farther into itself.
“I want ye to ready yerself.” Her father went on, “Ye will accompany me to Dún an Aonaigh Castle tomorrow.”
“But Da, ye’ve just returned. How can ye travel again so soon?”
“It’s not far and it makes no difference to me. What matters is that my only daughter is cared for, and that the lands and our people are given a proper leader.”
Sive contemplated shouting but her father was a hard man and when she’d defied him before, he’d locked her away. And yet part of her pondered the confinement—it would be a better option than marriage to Sorely Boy. “Why Sorely? Ye know Conal would make a fair leader and husband.”
Uilliam sighed, “Careful now, daughter, if ye dig a grave for others, ye might fall into it yerself. I’ve my reasons and I expect ye to abide.”
“But ye won’t share ’em with me?”
He ignored the question, clearing his throat instead. “A closed mouth is a wise head. Ye will remain here at the castle until the wedding, after that ye will move to yer new home, Dún an Aonaigh Castle.”
Tears fell from Sive’s eyes but she swiped them away as quickly as she could. Her Da would not appreciate her blubbering at a time like this. He pretended not to notice, turning his head to reach for his water. When he was done sipping, he set it down and turned back to her.
“Most likely ye will wind up back at this castle one day. Now go and prepare for our trip.”
ELEVEN
Southern India, Present Day Present Day
I awoke alone in the empty, unbearably hot fleabag hotel room we’d been forced to shack up in for the night. The air conditioning was sketchy at best so I wandered out onto the hotel’s balcony in search of a cooling breeze, but there was none to be found in Kumbakonam. I could only assume Leslie and Cullen were one of two places, the pool or breakfast. Why the hell had they left me behind?
Since arriving in India, we’d met bus and train delays, found many of the tours full and, most troubling, discovered that no one seemed to know where the Temple of Indra—the very reason we’d flown all this way—was located. We’d even scoured the Sati Chaura Ghat in Uttar Pradesh, where I’d always assumed it was.
I frowned in the mirror as a bead of sweat snaked its way into my eye. Cullen was probably downstairs swimming laps, cutting sleekly across the thirty-foot length of the pool while I drowned in my own perspiration. After twisting the top portion of my hair into a top knot, I threw on a peach-and-black Ikat print bikini and headed down the hotel’s chipped and peeling stairway.
The pool was empty but Leslie was curled up asleep in the shade. There were two loungers about ten feet from the edge of the pool and one of them held Cullen’s sunscreen and towel. I hurried over to the empty chair, the pavement warm on my toes, and settled into my research—a folder of Dunlace Castle documentation detailing family lineage with birth, death, and marriage certificates. I was three pages into one of the journals when Cullen returned.
“Aeval!” I could see out of my peripheral vision that he was walking toward me–his cell phone, which he’d just been on, was still in his hand – and he was clearly in a state of excitement. “I’ve found it! I’ve found Indra!”
“Great,” I replied distractedly.
“South Indian Tours will take us to the Airavatesvara Temple this Saturday.”
“I can’t wait.”
“Sophia, are ye listenin’? I just spoke to South Indian Tours. I’m meeting a man named Ram Kumar in the lobby this afternoon to get the tickets.”
“Got it! You found the temple.” I glanced up from the document and met Cullen’s mock-hostile expression with a mixture of amusement and dread.
“I guess that wasn’t a proper good morning.” He grinned.
“No, it wasn’t.” I agreed.
“Let’s try that again.” He waited a minute and then smiled. “Howya gorgeous, sorry for leaving ye behind. I thought it best to let ye lie in. Is this spot taken?” He towered above me in a fedora, plaid swim trunks and a white tee shirt that was almost see-through from sweat—the bared part of his body muscled, lean, and sensual. I felt a familiar fluttering.
“I suppose you can sit here since my fiancé left me in bed alone this morning, but only if you get naked.”
Cullen laughed, stripping himself of his shirt, and then bent over to kiss me. “Jaysus, the sun is splittin’ the stones today.”
I nodded and he took a seat, stretching out in the chair next to me. Leslie’s snores grew louder from the back corner and we smirked at one another. Leslie always denied that she snored.
“So why aren’t ye excited that I found the temple? This is what we’ve been searchin’ for.”
“I am excited.” I put the marriage certificate I was holding aside and ran a hand through my newly bobbed hair, lifting and ungluing the sticky ends from my neck. Had the last two weeks finally paid off? The tips of his own ginger hair peeked out from under his fedora, looking just as sweaty as my own.
“It’s just that you’ve said this every time and so far we’ve been to sixteen possible places and none of them has turned out to be Indra.” I adjusted my sunglasses to hide my skepticism.
Over and over we were told there was no temple dedicated to Indra, but that had to be a lie. Gigi had told me the tale of the Delhi Sapphire a hundred times. My mind rejected that it was only a bedtime story, not after all I’d been through and yet doubt was beginning to creep in. The only woman who even vaguely knew of Indra told me of the Airavatesvara Temple, a place where her Great Aunt Saraswati worked. She claimed her aunt was a Rishika—a female sage—who would help us.
“Ye don’t think we’ll actually find a resting place for the jewels, do ye? Ye need to have faith, woman!”
“Harrumph,” I said, making the growling noise I’d learned from him. “I had plenty of faith when we left Dublin.”
I jumped up and strode to the pool, quickly taking the steps until I was deep enough to dive below the surface. I swam the length and rose at the far end of the pool. The water was refreshing. I swam back to the shallow end right below the surface and right into Cullen.
“Sorry, I didn’t see you there.”
I smiled and turned using the wall to shoot away from him. I
was a fast swimmer.
He passed me in an instant and was waiting in the deep end when I arrived.
“I wasn’t done with ye yet. Why are ye runnin’ away, love?”
“I’m not,” I answered. “I’m doing laps. I hardly ever get to swim anymore and you’re in my way, so please move.”
He leaned into me and gave me a kiss on the neck. His fingers teased the strap of my bathing suit top.
“You are insatiable,” I whispered.
“Do ye know what I think?” He pulled back; fiery green eyes surveyed me pointedly.
“Yeah, I think I do,” I said, biting my lip.
I turned, kicking away from the wall again.
Once more, he was at the other end, waiting. I plowed into him, fingers scraping his warm, muscled stomach.
He grinned, catching my hands. His grip was strong, his breath was husky. “I think ye’re trying to bury yourself in the Dunlace Castle’s research to cover up the fact that you’re scared and discouraged.”
“Not true,” I said, attempting to break free. “What about the Rishika? Have you heard from her?”
“No word from that one yet. Besides, if she works at the temple, love, then we should be able to find her there. Now tell me what ye’re really thinking.”
He caught my chin. I went still and he studied me. “I’m fine.” I lied.
The truth was transporting the dagger and ring from Ireland to New Delhi and now to Southern India had weighed on my last nerve. The thought that I might be transported into the past once more haunted me daily. The reflection from the water made his eyes like tiny little mirrors reflecting my guilt.
“I always know when ye’re fibbin’, Aeval,” he teased. “Now admit it or I’ll work it from ye.”
His mouth ground down on mine, his tongue parted my lips and filled me. I felt a shot of fire streak directly between my legs.
I pulled away. “Cullen, Leslie’s right there and this is a public pool. People can see us.”
Cruel Fortunes Omnibus: Volumes One to Four Page 49
