It nagged at her, begged her to form … like an elusive scent lingering in a room, the sensation almost came clear. Abruptly it vanished, leaving her with a sentient déjà vu stronger than anything she’d ever experienced. Somewhere before this moment … before he’d almost run her down with his horse, she had met him. Where?
"Why do ye look at me that way?"
"Have I met you before?"
"Nay. I never set eyes on anythin’ like ye in all my life, before yesterday."
She wasn’t sure if that was an insult or a compliment.
A bit dazzled by all the raw masculinity so close, she said, "I haven’t seen anything like you before either."
"Humph."
When Tynan said nothing more and stared like Alenna was a prize salmon catch, she grew uneasy. She needed to make a plan to somehow get out of here in one piece. At least the man seemed to have the decency not to take advantage of her while she remained ill. But how could she get back to her time? Her mind reeled with the implications. How had she come back in time in the first place? And why?
Clad only in trews, he got up from the bed.
"You’ve got to let me go," she said.
"Nay," he said firmly. "If ye went now, no matter where it was, it wad be far too dangerous. Word has been that the Ruthvens are comin’ this way intent on killin’ his lordship. Everyone has come within the castle walls. We think the Ruthvens and their supporters will be here any day. They will lay siege to the castle."
"War?"
"Aye."
The thought of being trapped in this place while a war raged settled a hard cold dread over her body.
"Come to the table and eat," he said.
She nodded but said nothing.
"Then ye can tell me how ye happened to be in MacAulay Castle alone. Have ye no guidman?"
"Guidman?"
"Yer husband? A betrothed?"
"No … I have no man."
Alenna tensed. Despite the fact Tynan hadn’t harmed her, she wasn’t sure she trusted him. She could tell him she’d come from another time, but she hesitated. Would he think she was crazy and have her thrown into the dungeon? The thought of being stuffed into that hellhole made her blood freeze.
"Elizabet said ye came here for a special reason," he said.
When his words mirrored her thoughts, a tingle prickled her body like static electricity. "Special reason?"
"Elizabet is a wise woman. She knows many things that wad brand her of the de’il. When first I came here, four years ago, she told me a woman wad appear to me as if from a mist. She said ye were special, and I must protect ye with my life. I dinna believe her then, nor do I now." He walked to her and held out his hand. "Can ye stand?"
She allowed his warm hand to close over hers, and as she left the bed she drew the plaid around her. The floor beneath her bare feet felt icy. With her legs so weak, she felt grateful he held her hand as he led her into the front chamber. After she settled into a chair next to the table, he knelt by the fire and stoked it high and roaring. She watched him poke at the flames, mesmerized by the way the muscles moved in his back and shoulders and arms.
A wooden bowl sat on the table, partially covered with a piece of linen. Peaking into the bowl, Alenna saw a stew of potatoes and onions. The idea of eating the concoction didn’t appeal, and her stomach did a little flip. She closed her eyes and pressed her hand to her midsection.
He squatted down next to her chair. "Are ye goin’ to be ill?"
She took a deep breath. "No. I … would you have bread or some cheese? I don’t think I can eat this."
He nodded. "Aye." After he’d retrieved a trencher and cheese, and she discovered the taste was not bad, he settled into a chair across the table from her. "Who are ye?"
Disoriented and singularly scared at turns, Alenna didn’t know how she wanted to answer him. When she remained silent, he stood and reached for his shirt, which lay looped over a chair. He pulled it over his head, covering his magnificent chest. After he sat down in a chair opposite her again, he leaned across the table, his gaze intent, as if by mere force of will he could see into her heart.
"Elizabet said ye were sent to save my life, and I must protect ye."
She shook her head. "No. There’s been a horrible mistake. I don’t belong here."
"Ye are not from the village. Ye speak most strange."
How could she possibly answer his questions? If she came right out and told him she had traveled back in time, what would he do with her? If he’d been going to rape or murder her, he would have done it long ago. And he’d gone to the trouble to take care of her and had tried to keep her warm. But just because he didn’t intend her physical harm didn’t mean everything was peaches and cream. She still couldn’t trust him.
"I’m not from the village. As I said, I’m from a place far away."
"I heard ye speak of it. America?"
"Yes."
Silence stretched for a moment before Tynan said, "Ye aren’t eatin’ much. Ye must build yer strength."
Alenna nodded and did as he suggested. Soon she felt better, and the fire in the hearth warmed the room.
Eager to stretch her cramped muscles, she stood and moved toward the small pallet next to the wall. As she sank to the pallet she said, "You said you are a knight. Yet you live in such … meager chambers."
His brow, with its deep scar, wrinkled as he frowned. "These chambers are fair large and guid. Most other knights have less. My rooms are grand."
She looked at the rushes on the floor, the linen coverings over the windows that barely kept drafts out, and the fireplace. "You have no lands of your own?"
"Nay. I am not a noble."
"How did you come to be a knight for the baron?"
Tynan rose from the table and came toward her. As he advanced her muscles tightened, as if readying her to flee. When he sat beside her, his closeness, coupled with the intensity of his regard, made her hyper-aware of him. She shifted a couple of inches away.
"Ye ask many a question without givin’ any answers," he said. "I saw the strange cards ye have in the odd little bag that was around yer waist. I canna read them."
"My fanny pack," she said.
"Yer fanny what?"
"That’s what the bag is called. Where is it?"
He moved to the other room quickly and returned with the fanny pack. Alenna checked the contents and found the lip balm, wallet with her credit cards and money, and her comb were intact. As she riffled through the fanny pack, she realized something was missing. She looked down at her right hand.
"The ring!" she gasped.
"Eh?"
"The garnet ring! Where did you put it?"
He gave her a frosty, grim look. "I dinna steal from ye, if that is what ye think."
"You must have taken it! It’s gone. Give it back."
His frown turned to full-fledged anger, darkening his eyes. "I am not a thief. I dinna take yer bluidy ring."
Wildly she thought about what could have happened. "Maybe I … maybe I dropped it somewhere. It was loose on my finger—"
"Aye. That is the way of it. Maybe when ye ran out of here earlier."
She thought back to her mad dash from the room. Everything was a little foggy. The last time she remembered seeing the ring was right before the horse almost ran her down and she’d toppled back into time. If it had fallen off her finger then, maybe it still lay on the ground outside.
Before she could say another word about the ring, however, he plunged ahead. "What is yer name?"
"Alenna Carstairs."
"Lady Alenna?"
"No. Ms. I mean, no. I don’t have a title." She grimaced slightly at her stumbling words. Why did Tynan’s presence make speaking coherently such a chore? Was it the deep concentration of his gaze upon her? Or that fabulous body so close to her … the one that had hummed with arousal when she’d lain practically on top of him this morning?
Get a grip, Alenna.
"Alenna," he said, soft and
light. As if it were a mere breath on his lips. "‘Tis a beautiful name."
A tremor of pure female satisfaction drove her to smile widely. "Thank you."
Feeling warm, she let the plaid fall from her shoulders. As he perused the front of her gown closely, she felt her nipples peak against the material. Self-consciousness flooded her face with heat, and she crossed her arms over her chest. The way this man looked at her was scary.
No. Scary was too light a word.
She took a deep breath. Maybe if he checked the items in the fanny pack again, he’d believe her if she told him she’d come from the future. The paper money with Queen Elizabeth’s countenance printed upon it should be proof she wasn’t from this time.
She shifted and cleared her throat. Though she already knew his name, she asked once more. "What is your name again?"
"Tynan of MacBrahin." The sound rolled of his tongue with a slightly guttural accent that intrigued her every minute more she listened.
Once again her gaze locked with his in a battle of wills. "I assume I must call you Sir?"
"Nay, ye can call me Tynan if it suits ye."
She twined her fingers tightly in the plaid. "Where are you from?"
"Glenfinnan. In the Highlands."
"You speak English well," she said, then realized how bizarre her statement sounded.
"‘Twas not always so," he said, apparently taking no offense at what she’d said. "I speak Gaelic, but I learned English over these four years I have been at the castle. I dinna learn it as well as I wad like, but ‘tis enough to get me through day by day."
"When did you come to the castle?"
Once again he narrowed his gaze, and the scrutiny felt like a lead weight. "As I said before. Four years ago. For such an ill woman, ye ask a lot of questions."
"I feel good now. Thank you for the meal."
When Tynan reached out to her, she pushed herself back. He gave a noise that sounded half laugh and half scorn. He touched her forehead. "Why dinna ye sleep more? Ye still are hot."
Alenna felt the edge of weariness returning. What she should do was figure a way out of her predicament. But where did one start when it came to time travel? Thinking about the idea made her head throb. She’d never believed in the possibility of something so incredible.
There must be some reason she’d been sent here, but she had to get back to her time. Anything else was unthinkable.
"Alenna?"
The quietness of his voice startled her. "Yes?"
"Ye look deep in yer thoughts. Are ye fashed about bein’ in the room with me?"
She shook her head, although she was lying. "I’m not worried."
He lifted one dark eyebrow, and it wrinkled the deep scar on his forehead. She mused that the mark could have made him less attractive, but instead it gave him a tangible air of danger that was wildly intriguing.
"Only fallen women worry naught about their virtue."
Slivers of resentment moved through her. "It’s none of your business—"
Tynan reached out, grasping her arm in a grip that was stern, but not tight enough to cause pain. "Ye should worry. There are many who wad prey upon a woman within this castle."
"Including you?" she asked, indignant.
"Nay. But not all men wad have a care for your virtue."
She wanted to smile. Her virtue. Well, little did he know …
"I can take care of myself," she said.
His smile lifted one side of his mouth in a sarcastic twist. "I wadna be so sure about that."
A slow burn of irritation and fear pushed her up from the bed and out of his grasp. "I’m a grown woman. I’m twenty-nine years old, and I’ve spent a good portion of my life getting along without a man to guard me every step of the way."
He made an aggravated sound in his throat and stood. Toe to toe, he stared down at her. Her heart did a strange jump and suddenly she wasn’t sure she was getting enough air.
"I am three-and-thirty, and in my life I have seen many horrors. Not the least, the fate that could befall a woman without a man to protect her. I have seen women raped and murdered by men with no souls. Ye have no knowledge of what a woman like ye wad do to a man with no sense of honor and decency to hold him back."
"I can fend off the advances—"
He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her flush against him, startling a little gasp out of her. "Can ye?"
"Damn it," she said in frustration and fear, yanking back from him and finding his grip too tight for her to dislodge.
He loosened his hold just enough to quickly slip his arms about her waist and press her close to him. "Do ye think every man wad be honorable enough to stop when ye asked him?"
"Please let me go," Alenna said quietly, hoping her tone would convince him she didn’t want to fight. Besides, she didn’t know what he had in mind. Thinking in 1318 was obviously different than twentieth century acceptable behavior manners.
"Do ye think, if I were some knave on the street, ye could ask me in that soft, sweet voice to let ye go and it wad be that simple?" One of his hands came up and tangled in her shoulder-length hair. He leaned down to sniff her hair, and his warm breath tickled her ear. She shivered against him, alarmed when the sensation excited her more than frightened her.
"Ye smell fair sweet. Ye have no feelin’ for how ye look?"
"What do you mean?" Alenna strained back against his arms but his muscles wouldn’t give an inch. Instead, he pressed one hand to her bottom and cupped her. She let out an outraged gasp. "Get your hand off my—"
"I saw the way Dougald looked at ye. Though he is an honorable man, he wad be sore tempted to touch ye as I am now."
Genuine fear began to grow within her as he snarled his fingers into her hair. She knew if she moved too suddenly that it would hurt like blazes.
"Why are you doing this?" she asked. "An honorable man would have released me by now."
"To show ye how dangerous it is for a woman who takes no care."
"So you mean to be as brutish as other men to accomplish your means?" Alenna asked, snapping the words at him.
"Nay." Tynan’s fingers did a gentle, exploratory touch along her buttocks. She jerked against him as the tickling sensation zinged through the rest of her body. He was looking at her like he might eat her up in one gulp. "Ye are safe from me."
His fingers slowly pulled up the material of her shift.
Why, the bastard had lied through his teeth. Before she knew it, his hand cupped her bare bottom. She gasped again. She couldn’t think of a thing to say, her gaze caught up in his, and the sensation of his hand running over her buttocks attracting every molecule of her attention.
"What do you want from me?" she asked.
A barely-there smile touched his lips. "The question should be what ye want from me."
"I don’t know why I’m here."
"And I dinna believe ye. Maybe I will need to find a way to get the truth from ye."
Another spark of fear obliterated the sensual surge coursing through her blood. Alenna pushed against his chest with both of her hands. "No. You told me Elizabet said I was here for a purpose. But not to harm his lordship or you."
"Sometimes beauty is a deceivin’ package. I will make ye talk, lass. Ye canna hide what ye are from me."
"But I don’t know what’s happening any more than you do," she said, aware that a desperate tone had entered her voice. She took a deep breath and tried to hush the alarm galloping through her blood. "I thought you said you wouldn’t hurt me?"
"Aye. I wad never hurt ye. But if ye dinna tell me where ye come from and why yer here, I will kiss ye until ye do."
* * *
CHAPTER 4
Alenna’s mouth opened as she tried to think of a suitable retort or a way to reason with Tynan. Kiss her until she talked? Absurd. How was that supposed to make her talk?
"I told you. I’m from a place called America. I was on an archaeological dig here at the castle. We were digging for artifacts—"
"Huh," he grunted. He brushed his lips across hers, and the sudden movement drew a sharp breath from her. He laughed, and the deep, low rumble vibrated through her chest.
"You’re right. Your kiss is so repulsive I’ll talk just to keep you away from me." Giving him a sarcastic smile, she tried again to twist from his arms.
Before she could move again, his lips came down on hers.
Immediately she pushed against him, anger and fear giving her extra strength. His hold tightened.
Astonished, her mind tumbled with confusion. Tynan held her tight, lest he lose her, but not taut enough to bruise or break.
A wild, fluttering sensation darted through her belly. His lips molded to hers, and played over her mouth with ravenous attention. But his lips didn’t hurt her … instead they tasted, searched, and cajoled in a way she’d never experienced before.
A strange dizzy sensation filled her head. As he pressed her hips tight against him, she felt the heat of his arousal. Excitement traveled through Alenna’s loins. The man was harder than granite. Before she could think much about it, a wild notion came to her.
If this was a dream, maybe she ought to enjoy it.
Suddenly he shifted his grip and lifted her up against his erection. He cupped her bare buttocks and pressed his linen covered hardness against the naked, tender point between her thighs.
When she took a startled breath, his tongue entered her mouth. With deep, languorous thrusts Tynan stroked her tongue, sending a sizzle of warmth through her blood. Stunned by the familiarity of the burning caresses, and the surge of response within her, she moaned. A deep sound of male satisfaction rumbled from his chest, and he increased the passion of his kiss. She met his tongue with her own, tasting him as he tasted her, without boundaries or hesitation.
The kiss went on and on, until the fire throbbing in Alenna threatened to reach ridiculous heights. Before she could contemplate struggling out of his arms, he broke the kiss, setting her back on her feet. She stumbled back a step.
Breathing hard, he clenched his fists at his sides like a man ready to fight. Above flushed cheeks, his eyes glittered with a predatory incandescence.
A Bridge Through The Mist Page 4
