The Key to Her Heart
A Time Travel Romance
Blanche Dabney
Copyright
Text Copyright 2019 - Blanche Dabney
All Rights Reserved
Cover design - Copyright Melody Simmons
All characters and locations are a product of the author’s imagination and bear no resemblance to real people, living or dead.
No part of this ebook may be reproduced without prior written consent of the author excepting short segments quoted in the context of a review.
Contents
Copyright
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Epilogue
About the Author
Also by the Same Author
Connect with Blanche
Author’s Note
Dedication
For Thomas and Mischa
Prologue
Jock knew the only way to save her was to hurt her. She was lucky she was alone with him, locked away in his private bedchamber where she was safe from trial.
If she raved like that about time travel in front of anyone else in the castle, she’d be imprisoned as a witch.
It was not so long ago that a woman spouting such babble was almost burned at the stake. Superstitions hung on for a long time in the Highlands, even in this more civilized age.
“Let me go,” she yelled, tugging at the bonds that held her tight to his bed. “Let me go right now. You’ve no right to hold me here.”
She was so different to how she’d been just a few minutes earlier. She had been perfectly calm while they climbed the stairs to his bedchamber, talking about nothing much at all. Did she know then what he had planned?
Of course not.
He shook his head, tuning out her continuing shouts. This was no time to crack, to start to feel sympathy for her plight. This was for her own good.
She still looked good even in the depths of her madness. Her eyes bulged as did her muscles while she fought frantically with every fiber of her being to loosen the knots binding her to the bed frame.
She looked as good as the first time he saw her. How had he not noticed the demon within her then?
If he was honest with himself he knew the answer. He had allowed himself to become distracted by her beauty. He looked at her, unable to look away.
There was something about her flawless skin he’d found irresistible, so different to any of the other women in the clan. Her accent too, so exotic, so unusual, so unique. No one else spoke like she did.
There could be only one explanation for her voice and the strange foreign words she kept using. The woman he loved had a demon inside her.
She was ranting and raving again, twisting her head toward him. “You said I could trust you and you do this to me? Let me go!”
He shook his head, walking away to kneel before the altar in the corner of his room, genuflecting before lifting his eyes and hands up to heaven.
“Save her, Lord,” he said, raising his voice so it could be better heard over her shouts. “Banish the vile denizen of the underworld that lurks within her soul. Send it back to the fiery pit from whence it came and allow this innocent one back into the your good graces.
“Take me instead if you must punish someone. I have sinned, she has not. I should have prayed for her from the moment I first met her. Forgive me, Lord, my omission, and save her.”
“There’s no demon in me,” she yelled back at him. “Stop saying that.”
He finished praying, picking up the scourge, turning to face her with the leather fronds dangling down from his hand.
“What’s that for?” she asked, fear flashing across her eyes.
“This is for your own good,” he said, whipping the scourge through the air to test it “It will free your soul and save you from your torment in this life and eternal damnation in the next. The pain will purify you.”
He wanted to kiss her so much in that moment. He knew he must not give in to the temptation or they would both be lost.
“Look,” she said, her eyes wide as she stared at the scourge, watching it move toward her. “Just stop and listen to me for a minute.”
He shook his head as he remembered the talk they’d just had. “I will not listen to the rantings of the demon within you. It must be cast out if you are to be saved. Know that this brings no pleasure for me but it must be done. If the clan were to hear of your rantings, the punishment upon you and I would be far worse than scourging.”
“Listen, please,” she begged, craning her neck to look at him. “It’s not rantings. I swear on my life I’m telling you the truth. I’m from the future. I’ve traveled back in time and…and…and look at me, Jock. Do I look like I’m lying?”
He saw the innocence in her eyes and he was torn. She had been nothing but honest with him up until this point. What if she was telling the truth about this as well?
Was it at all possible she’d come back in time eight hundred years from a strange future? Was it possible he was wrong?
He thought about his parents and their ramblings about time travel. As their minds had begun to go they had spoken of the ability to travel through history as if it were possible.
But then they at least had the excuse of age to explain the nonsense they told him about keys and doors to the past. What of this woman? What excuse did she have for telling him she was from the future?
As he looked into her deep blue eyes, she looked honest. Honest and afraid. She did not look like a liar.
He almost crumbled.
He shook his head. That was the demon trying to persuade him, twist his mind to believe in the madness. He looked at her and then down at the scourge.
“Please,” she said, her voice reaching deep inside his soul causing his to hand freeze. “Please let me go, I’m begging you. Please, Jock, don’t do this. Don’t hurt me. You promised you’d never hurt me.”
He looked from the scourge to her and back again. She continued fighting to free herself and he knew he could not leave her like that for much longer.
The demon would soon give her the strength to escape his bonds and his castle. Then the clan would deal with her. They would never let one of the possessed roam free around the highlands.
He had to make a choice.
Let her go? Condemn her to death in this life and damnation in the next?
Or beat the demon from her but lose her trust forever?
He took a deep breath, muttered a silent prayer, and then made his decision, taking a single, slow, step toward her.
Chapter One
Daisy’s journey to the past began with a sneeze. The sneeze that woke her up that fateful morning, did not come from her. It came from her housemate, Tabby.
Sitting up in bed, blinking sleep from her eyes, Daisy tried to remember the dream. She could almost see the person’s face this time. It was a man, she knew that much.
He had taken her hand, pulling her away from a hooded figure, a hooded figure that wanted something she had. But then the dream was gone, drifting away like the morning mist when the summer sun begins to rise.
Another sneeze from downstairs. Tabby clearly still had a bad cold. “Daisy!” her weak voice shouted up. “I need you.” A loud cough and t
hen another sneeze.
With a sigh, Daisy swung her legs out of bed and headed downstairs, putting the dream out of her mind.
She thought about telling Tabby about the dream but decided against it. She knew exactly what her housemate would tell her.
She would fetch down her big book of dream interpretation and tell Daisy she needed to find a man. That was her answer to everything. Get a man.
The last thing Daisy needed in her life was a man. What she needed was a cash injection. As things were going, she was going to be two months behind in paying her half of the rent in precisely three days time.
Tabby was in the living room, wrapped up in too many blankets.
“You look like a Tabburrito,” Daisy said as she walked in. “Tabbyarrito.”
“That’s nacho funny. I’m dying here.”
“You’re not dying, you have a cold.”
“The worst cold in the history of everything.” She sneezed again, blowing her nose into a tissue which she then dropped onto the close to overflowing bin beside the couch.
“How are you feeling?” Daisy picked up the bin and carried it outside, dumping the contents outside in the trash.
“Awful,” Tabby said when she returned.
“Need me to run to the store for more painkillers?”
“No. I need you to deliver a package for me.”
“Not again.” She shook her head, waving her hands in front of her. “No way, I’m not doing it. Last time took all day and anyway I’m meant to be job-hunting. I owe you a fortune, remember.”
“This is different. I’ll pay you this time.”
Daisy rubbed her hands together and boomed out her most evil laugh. “You fool, that’s exactly what I wanted from you. All the money, mwuh hah hah. How much exactly? Enough for the rent?”
“I thought you’d say that.”
“Hey, I’m not precious, just greedy.”
Tabby smiled. “And broke.”
“That too.”
Daisy knew why she was asking. Tabitha’s courier job had some weird rules. If she agreed to deliver something it had to be done on the day specified on the contract. Otherwise they docked her a week’s pay.
Tabby had worked her butt off for the last four days to save up enough for a decent summer vacation but now her cold was too bad and she was taking a rare day off.
“One package,” Tabby said, coughing into her hand. “That’s all.”
Clearly, a late shipment had arrived. She had to get it to the client or she’d lose all she’d earned that week.
Daisy asked her once why the company didn’t just deliver the parcels themselves but she gave her a whole big speech about the gig economy and personal service and a load of other things she didn’t really understand.
What it boiled down to was the job involved taking packages the last couple of miles to the client’s door and being polite while doing it. That was the job. Or in this particular case, Daisy’s job.
“It’s got to be there by noon,” Tabby said, passing a small wooden box across to her. “It turned up here first thing. I was going to go this morning but look at me. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Where’s it going anyway?” Daisy asked, looking down at the address handwritten across the brown paper glued to the top of the box. “Jock MacGregor. MacGregor Castle? Seriously? That’s miles away.”
Tabby nodded before slumping back on the sofa, the effort of sitting up becoming too much. She groaned and then blew her nose again. “I’ve taken him a few things before. You just go to the gatehouse and the building supervisor takes them off you to give to him.”
“What if he’s not there?”
“He better be. I’m not losing a week’s pay over one package. Don’t let him tell you to take it to the laird himself. Just hand it over to the super and get out of there.”
“And why’s that?”
“I’ve heard some stories about the guy from the other couriers. The laird is said to be more than a bit eccentric. About as old as the castle and just as rough by all accounts. Gets aggressive toward visitors. Just dump the thing at the gate and get out of there before the place goes all Wicker Man on you.”
Daisy picked up the box, surprised by how warm the wood felt. “Wonder what’s in here that’s so important it needs a personal courier.”
“Keep wondering. Just get there by twelve.”
“Want me to pick you up anything while I’m out?”
“A gun to put me out of my misery.”
“How about some ice cream?”
“Even better.”
Daisy looked at the clock on the wall. Quarter past eight. That gave her plenty of time.
She left Tabitha and took the box through to her room, leaving it on her dressing table as she headed through to the shower.
It was funny, but as she let go, she felt a strange desire to pick it up again, like it belonged to her. She shook her head, ignoring the feeling.
Once clean, she picked out a suitable driving outfit. Black jeans, black boots, plain white tee. No point getting too dressed up just to spend a couple of hours in the car each way.
Once her hair and makeup were sorted she was ready. Google Maps told her the route, two hours twenty to get there. Easy enough.
“Good luck,” Tabby shouted through as she picked up her car keys. “Let me know if the stories about the castle are true.”
Tabby had told her several stories about MacGregor Castle. Tabitha was into esoteric history. Her bookcases were filled with volumes on dream interpretation, tarot cards, U.F.Os, fairies, and in amongst the rest, a couple of out of print books on Scottish castles.
MacGregor Castle featured in several chapters. The place seemed to swirl with tales, many of which directly contradicted the others.
Tabby had told Daisy just a week ago that time travelers had been recorded arriving in MacGregor castle back in the Middle Ages. That had been a funny one. Who could possibly believe that?
Answer - her housemate. She believed them all. Not Daisy, she had more sense. Time travel was something anyone might wish were possible. That didn’t make it real.
There were other tales of druids and ghosts and all sorts of weird nonsense taking place over the centuries to Clan MacGregor and the castle.
Daisy didn’t believe a word of any of it. Which goes to show how wrong a person can be.
The journey north was a pretty one, the rolling hills becoming jagged tree strewn mountains, streams becoming rivers, and rivers becoming deep blue lochs, their azure depths reflecting the cloudless skies of high summer.
With ten minutes to go, Daisy turned off the main road and headed along a narrow track that curved slowly upward as it ascended a mountainside, the car groaning in low gear to keep going.
Finally, just as she thought the engine was about to overheat, the road opened out to reveal a vista of the distant mountains across the wide valley.
She took another turn and there it was, the road ending so abruptly she almost overshot the parking lot and drove into the gatehouse.
Skidding to a halt, she slung the steering wheel to the left and then drove onto the gravel covered lot before killing the engine. She sat for a moment, looking up at the enormous castle.
It was like something out of a Gothic ghost story, huge dark gray stone running up so far she had to crane her neck to see the top.
Crows circled the top. The gatehouse stuck out from the base of the wall like a boil, above it tiny arrow slit windows the only sign of decoration.
The corner towers were still standing and in one of them a light flickered. Other than that the place looked deserted.
“Someone better be here,” Daisy said as she got out of the car and carried the box across to the gatehouse, the car engine ticking over behind her.
The squat front door was closed so she knocked and waited before noticing a Victorian bellpull to her right. Tugging it resulted in a sonorous boom echoing somewhere far inside.
While she waited, she
again looked up at the walls directly above her, trying to decide if any of Tabitha’s stories might be true. It certainly looked like the place might hide a ghost or two.
In the quiet, she could have sworn she heard the sound of swords clashing somewhere in the distance. A trick of the wind no doubt.
She jumped when the door creaked open, taking an involuntary step back as a wizened face peered out, eyes half hidden behind lank white hair.
“Yes?” the man said, peering suspiciously at her. “What do you want? We dinnae want tinkers here nor knife sharpeners. Off you go before I set the dogs on you.”
“I’ve a parcel here for Jock MacGregor. Is that you?”
The man snorted. “I am custodian for the laird.”
“Oh, right. Well, could you sign this?” She held out the form Tabitha had given her.
“Whit’s that in yer hand? Show me that box noo.”
The man reached out with claw like fingers and she passed it to him. He looked surprised for a brief moment, his eyes widening but then his face was as suspicious as before.
“You carry this up tae the laird. Go through the open door in the courtyard and if you are who you appear, you will find him in the top room. Be sure to knock.”
She thought about what Tabby had said about the laird. Rude, aggressive, best avoided. “It’s all right, I’ll just leave it with you. You can take it up to him that way.”
The man shoved the box back into her hand. “Through there and take the open door. I willnae help you.”
“All the same,” she began as he ducked back inside, leaving her standing there talking to thin air. “If you-”
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