She hoped he wouldn’t be able to pick her out in the crowd. If he did, he’d assume she’d had a burning need to know whether or not he competed for the right to court her. She did have a burning need, but he didn’t need to know.
Grayce had managed to avoid him during the feast, thanks to the entire clan introducing themselves and wanting to get to know her. Sadly, avoiding him didn’t mean she hadn’t been acutely aware of where he was at any given moment. Especially when Rebecca crowded his space, batting her lashes and hanging on every word he uttered. Not that she cared who hung on his every word. Much.
Brian’s eyes had strayed to her time and again, and when he’d finally freed himself from Rebecca’s clutches, he’d been quickly surrounded by others who wanted his attention. Even the druid who had led the meeting earlier that day sought out Brian for an intense conversation. Frustration had pulsed from him, poor guy. How trying it must be to be so popular. She’d never had that problem, and that was by design.
“It’s chilly this morning.” Grayce pulled the shawl Brianna had loaned her tighter around her shoulders and rubbed the wool between her thumb and fingers. “How difficult was it for you to adjust to living like this? I mean, you had to weave this wool, didn’t you?” She’d had a full day to recover, raise the hem on her borrowed shift and over-gown, and to observe her surroundings. She couldn’t help but notice the loom and the spinning wheel in Brianna’s cottage.
“You must miss electricity, indoor plumbing, and appliances.” Sloan and his son had spent all yesterday shearing the fleece from their sheep. She might enjoy learning how to weave if she weren’t so certain she’d be returning home soon.
“Adjusting was not as hard as you might imagine.” Brianna glanced askance at her. “I find a great deal of satisfaction in being so close to the business of living.”
“If you don’t mind my asking, where are you from, and how did you find yourself here? I detect a very slight accent, but I can’t place it.”
“I’m Portuguese on my mother’s side and British on my father’s. We divided our time between the UK and Portugal. My father taught at the Polytechnic Institute of Bragança. As to how I came here, my parents, grandparents, brother and I were vacationing in Ireland the summer after I graduated from college. We were visiting the stone circle in Kenmare.”
Brianna peered out over the landscape. “One minute I was walking around the inside of the standing stones, and the next step I took, everything around me changed. The stone circle had disappeared, and so had my family.” Brianna shook her head. “Turns out, my family hadn’t disappeared; I had.”
“That must have been difficult for you and for your family.”
“Yes, and I miss them every day, but I met and married the love of my life here, and we have our son. One day I hope to have a grandson.” She slid Grayce a speculative look. “Soon, I hope.”
Grayce swallowed a few times. How was she supposed to respond to such an overt nudge? Instead of firing more questions at Brianna, Grayce studied the surrounding hills and fields as the sky grew lighter. Hedgerows and walls made of stone taken from the fields kept the livestock out of the crops. She’d seen the exact same kind of walls all over Ireland.
A crowd had gathered on the banks of the river by the road leading into the village. The scents of fermentation and woodsmoke filled the air. The path they were on widened, and Sloan dropped back to walk with her and his wife. “What is that smell from?” Grayce asked.
“We have a couple of pubs in the village, a brew house and a distillery.”
Temptation reared its nasty head, and she stomped it down. “Do you have money, a form of currency?”
“Aye, but we also barter,” Sloan told her. “We’ve a blacksmith, millers, chandlers, weavers, a butcher and a baker, along with many other crafters. We visit the other two villages, and they visit us for trade,” he said, his tone proud. “We hold regular fairs, and our village has a fine market square.”
They’d reached the river and so had most of the inhabitants from the valley. “I can’t see through the crowd.”
“Come. Let us walk upriver a bit. The lads are on the opposite bank, and I know ye’ll want to get a good look at those who have decided to compete.” Sloan winked at her. “As ye are one of the prizes to be won and all,” he teased.
Grayce scowled, which only made him laugh. She followed the couple upriver and walked with them to the edge of the bank. There, she finally caught a glimpse of the opposite side of the river where the men who would run were milling about and stretching. She counted seven, and all of them were shirtless. They wore crude versions of kilts for the event, a few yards of wool draped around their waists. Brian stood out. How could he not? Tall, muscled and half naked, the sight of him tugged at her senses, awakening desire deep within her.
She fisted her hands, forgetting they were injured until they stung. Ouch. She drew in a long breath, released it slowly, and willed away the annoying onslaught of desire. “Are all the runners from this village?”
“No. Three are from ours, two are from the upper village, and two from the lower,” Brianna told her. “We’re going to go say hello to friends from the other villages. Would you like to join us?”
“Thanks, but I think I’ll stay here.” Where I can ogle and drool over your son.
“All right. We’ll find you before the men start out.”
Nodding, Grayce’s attention shifted back to Brian. He seemed to be searching the crowd as he stretched and warmed up. Was he looking for her? That prospect should not thrill her as much as it did. All the men were well muscled, and they all carried leather pouches full of what she guessed must be food for the day. Most were also extremely good looking, yet she was drawn to only one. Helpless to fight the attraction, she took in Brian’s overall sexual appeal and settled into openly staring.
“Hello, Grayce,” a woman said, sidling close to her.
Her skin crawled at Rebecca’s nearness. “Good morning.” She put some distance between them.
“Where are you from?” Rebecca asked. “How did you come here?”
“I’m from the US,” she said. “I have family in County Waterford, and I came to Ireland for a christening.” She briefly described how she’d come to be in the hidden vales. “And you?”
“I live—or I used to live—in Dublin, though I was born and raised in Limerick. How I came to be here, I couldn’t say. I was in St. Stephen’s Green, walking off a night of revelry in Temple Bar. I closed my eyes for a second, took a step, and tripped. When I got up from my knees, I found myself in the middle of the bleedin’ mountains.”
Rebecca gawked at the half-naked men waiting to begin the race. “I’ve been thinkin’,” she said, leaning close to speak quietly into Grayce’s ear.
“Oh?”
“Look at all that manliness, would you, and all of them desperate for a woman.”
“Hmm.” Rebecca’s selfish intent washed over Grayce, and she suddenly wished to take a shower. She wanted nothing to do with whatever this woman had been thinkin’.
“You and I could rule this place if we teamed up.” A throaty laugh filled the space between them. “We’d have ’em eatin’ from the palms of our hands if we played our cards right.”
“I’m not sure that’s—”
“Have you noticed the gold some of the women wear? Bracelets, brooches, rings and what not?” She went on as if she hadn’t heard Grayce. “You and I could take over control of this backwards village easily enough, and the men would lay gold and silver at our feet for a few intimate favors, if you know what I mean.” She sighed happily. “Look at ’em, lined up to run all day long just for the chance to be chosen by one of us. We could string ’em along by their cocks for months and months. From what I hear—”
“That’s sick and wrong.” Grayce frowned. “I have no wish to rule over anybody, and I certainly have no desire to lead any man around by his cock. What good is silver and gold going to do you here, anyway? Besides, the jewe
lry you see probably came with the women. Mine did. I doubt there’s more to be found in these mountains, which are primarily sandstone.”
“Well, excuse me. I hadn’t figured you for an uptight prude.” Rebecca stared pointedly at Grayce’s piercings and blue hair. “Ah, well, no partnership then. No matter. I’ll do better on my own anyway. I only offered to be fair.”
Fair? She knew for a fact this woman didn’t have a single fairness bone in her entire body. “Good luck with your plan.” Should she warn these good people about Rebecca’s ridiculous scheme?
“Which one of the lads do you fancy, Grayce?”
She knew full well Rebecca had designs on Brian, and Grayce also knew better than to reveal how attractive she found him herself. Doing so would only make an enemy of someone like Rebecca. “I don’t plan on being here long enough to make a choice.”
“Oh? And how is it you plan to escape?” Again, she laughed. “From what everyone tells me, no woman to come through has ever returned to the outside world.”
“I’ll find a way.” The less she revealed the better. “Don’t you want to return to your home?”
“Feck, no,” Rebecca said, eyeing the men who were now lining up behind a length of twine held at either end by a druid.
“Hmm.” Why wouldn’t Rebecca want to return to her life in Dublin? Once again, the sense that Rebecca had somehow escaped something by coming to this place wafted from the other woman. No doubt Rebecca had been the perpetrator of whatever trouble she needed to escape.
“May the best man win—and the best woman.” Rebecca smirked before sauntering off, her hips swaying in her Dark-Ages finery, which she wore belted to show off her ample breasts and curvy waist.
Grayce snorted and took a few steps back to blend into the crowd.
“What was that all about?” Brianna asked, coming to stand beside her.
“Rebecca believes she can take over your village by starting her own little business.” Grayce studied her healing palms before wrapping her arms around her midriff. “She plans to offer the men favors of an intimate nature in exchange for gold and silver laid at her feet. She wanted me to be her partner. I declined.”
Brianna’s sudden burst of laughter startled Grayce and brought curious stares their way. “That’s funny?” Grayce asked.
“Yes,” Brianna said. “Very.”
At that moment, a blast from a ram’s horn sounded, and the race began. Grayce hurried closer to the riverbank, just as a collective gasp filled the air, followed by an angry shout. She reached the bank in time to see one of the contestants scrambling out of the river to join the runners. She bit her lip. Even dripping wet, with his hair plastered to his head, there was no mistaking Brian’s very fine form. Someone had pushed him into the river, delaying his start. “Oh no.”
“Don’t fret.” Sloan slid her a sideways look. “Brian’s stride is long, and none can match my lad for determination, cleverness, or endurance.”
Nodding absently, Grayce couldn’t tear her eyes from Brian. She willed him forward as if she could somehow lend him a boost.
“He’ll hang back anyway. At least until later in the afternoon.”
“Why?” She turned to face Sloan.
“Because by doing so, he’ll keep well away from the mischief committed by others. He’ll put on speed in the last leg of the race. By then the rest of the lads will be tuckered out.” He patted her shoulder. “You’ll see. There’s naught to worry over, Grayce of the Blue Hair.”
She cringed at the nickname and flashed Sloan a disgruntled look. “I’m not worried,” she said. Not much anyway. The trail the men followed, like everywhere else, was rocky and uneven terrain. The runners passed by, and then he was there in front of her. Brian still searched through those standing along the river instead of watching where he was going. Grayce fought the urge to yell at him to keep his eyes on the trail. In that instant, he found her. Brian slowed down and aimed one of his lethal smiles straight for the bull’s-eye on her heart. “Watch where you’re going,” she shouted after all.
Laughing, Brian winked at her before turning his attention to the path before him, and then he was gone, disappearing around a bend. Whatever he’d been carrying in his leather bag had surely been ruined when he went into the river. “Do any of the villagers meet the runners along the way?” she asked. “Like, to give them water or something to eat?” She remembered watching the Boston Marathon on TV, and the way people standing along the route thrust cups of water or protein bars at the runners.
“Nay. They must fend for themselves. Come, we’ll walk with ye through the village so you can see what’s what.” Sloan’s gaze followed the trail taken by the runners for a moment longer.
“Grayce, tell my husband about your encounter with Rebecca,” Brianna said quietly.
Once again Grayce related what had transpired between her and the dark-haired schemer.
Sloan didn’t laugh like his wife had. His features darkened, and he shook his head. “She’ll be trouble, that one,” he murmured. “When the druid said the Tuatha dé Danann taught us how to live in our hidden vales, he referred to the rules governing our society as much as how we care for the land. Unless she has made it clear to the clan he’s her choice for a mate, it is strictly forbidden for any man to … um … have relations with an unwed woman who has come to us. If a lad defies that law, he forfeits any chance to compete for a wife in the future, for he’s already proven he cannot be trusted.”
“If a woman should become a widow at a young age, it’s a different story,” Brianna added. “There’s no shame attached to liaisons between the unmarried men and a widow, and there are rules for that too.”
“Aye. Widows are treated and cared for with the utmost respect, for they …” Sloan plowed his fingers through his hair and his face turned red. “I’m not certain how to explain the role a widow plays in our society.” He turned to his wife. “Brianna, love?”
“Young men without access to women can become aggressive, and sometimes that aggression can turn to violence.” She shrugged. “If they choose to, a woman who has lost her husband to an accident or from an illness, can provide relief for our young men. They’re also charged with instructing a man how to please a future wife, should he be lucky enough to be chosen.”
Brianna paused for moment before continuing. “If a widow chooses not to follow that path, they are free to pursue their chosen livelihood, and they are also free to remarry. If she already has a son, no children come from such unions. Older folks who have lost their mates and have already raised their sons might choose to remarry. Sloan’s father did so, and he now resides in the upper village with his second wife.”
“Adultery and assaulting a woman in any way are strictly forbidden.” Sloan’s jaw clenched, and his tone held bitterness.
Grayce picked up on a deep emotional wound he carried, and the resulting rage. The strong emotions flowing between Brian’s parents piqued Grayce’s curiosity. Brianna reached for her husband. Sloan gripped his wife’s hand and drew her close to his side. He whispered something to her in Irish. Brianna nodded and bit her lip.
“I’d like to help with chores,” Grayce said, gently pushing the conversation onto a different path.
Brianna’s expression eased. “I’m not sure what you can do until your hands are healed.”
“I was thinking we could wrap them in strips of linen, and then I could work comfortably enough at something. Weeding the vegetable garden, or housekeeping stuff. I can certainly sweep, fold laundry or sew. I need to make something to wear, so you can have your things back.”
“We’ve a shed full of recently sheared wool, love,” Sloan said to his wife. “Ye could begin teaching Grayce how to card and spin.” He beamed at Grayce. “No one weaves wool as fine as my wife’s.”
Affection for the couple warmed Grayce’s heart. They were obviously deeply in love, and Sloan’s respect and admiration for Brianna came through loud and clear.
“Hmm. That’s a
good idea,” Brianna said. “The lanolin from the wool will aid in the healing of her scrapes.”
Grayce’s brow rose. “I’d love to learn to card and spin. What’s lanolin, anyway?”
Brianna laughed. “A form of fat that coats a sheep’s fleece. Lanolin keeps them dry when it rains or snows.”
“Ah.” She nodded.
“But first, breakfast,” Sloan said patting his stomach. “I’m famished.”
“It’s settled then. After breakfast, put me to work.” Had Brian caught up with the rest of the runners, or did he hang back as Sloan had suggested? Based upon what she knew of Brian and his family, along with the innate integrity she sensed within all three, he’d make an excellent chieftain. Of course, she wouldn’t be here to see that, but she wished him well in the test of endurance.
Her throat tightened, and a pang of regret stole her breath. This was not her home, and she needed to be home with her family. She had a new nephew, and she didn’t want to miss watching him grow up. She had her sisters, parents, an extended family, and she had a job to get back to in Knoxville.
Her heart a bit conflicted, she followed Sloan and Brianna to their cottage, her mind drifting once again to Brian. Sloan had said the competitors were not allowed to cause any real harm to each other, and that should have eased her concern. So why couldn’t she stop worrying about him?
Grayce forced her mind away from thoughts of Brian. Carding and spinning wool with Brianna would give her the perfect opportunity to ask all the questions jam-packed in her brain, and she planned to take full advantage. She’d also take the opportunity to check her cell phone. She wasn’t certain whether she’d landed in the past, or if this place was simply hidden from the rest of the world. But if she was still in the twenty-first century, she might have a cell signal.
HIDDEN IN TIME Page 6
