A Bridge Through The Mist

by Denise A. Agnew

  "I’m still here," she said, smiling at the way his look turned from devouring to puzzled. Without saying another word, he opened the door and started out. Concern pierced her. "Don’t go out there, Tynan."

  He looked back, his hand on the door. "I must see to the baron. He may need me."

  "But it’s dangerous—"

  "Aye, so ye have seen." He paused again. "Bar this door and let no one in but myself, Dougald, Elizabet or Clandon. If anyone tries to break in, there is a dagger on the table in the next room. Dinna hesitate to use it, lass."

  With that he was gone.

  As she barred the door, her hands trembled slightly. Unsteady on her feet, she went into the other room and retrieved the dagger. Holding the hilt tightly in her hand, she sat down on the small stool next to the table. She could still hear shouting and other sounds of battle, so she knew the fight raged on. Fear rose in her again. Fear for the mysterious and infuriating man who had just walked out the door.

  * * *

  "The wound isna bad," Elizabet said as she dabbed a concoction of herbs and egg whites across the laceration on Alenna’s arm.

  "‘Tis no bigger than a bug bite, it seems to me," Johanna said as she held back the covering over the window to look out. "I dinna ken why he sent for ye, mathair."

  Elizabet turned an irritated glance on her daughter. "Every wound must be treated, Johanna. Ye ken that as well as I do."

  "Why isna he here?" Johanna asked.

  Sighing heavily, Elizabet turned in her chair and paused in her ministrations. "He is tryin’ to discover the traitor within the castle."

  Johanna looked at her mother. "Traitor?"

  "Aye. The man who shot the arrow at Alenna was not one of the baron’s soldiers. He might have been sent here to slay the baron."

  "He did try to kill Tynan," Alenna acknowledged. As Elizabet finished tying the bandage, Alenna stood.

  "Ye shouldna get up." Elizabet grasped Alenna’s arm.

  "I’m fine." Alenna reached for her goblet of wine and drank deeply. She’d had a full glass of the stuff and planned on having a second glass, despite the taste, to dull the throb in her arm and her anxiety for Tynan and Clandon.

  "May I go now, mathair?" Johanna asked petulantly.

  Elizabet gave her daughter an exasperated look. "Nay. We are not to leave here until Tynan comes back."

  "Did either of you see Clandon when you were on the way here?" Alenna asked.

  Both women shook their heads.

  "He saved my life, I think," Alenna said.

  Elizabet smiled. "He is a good boy, that one." She paused a moment. "But then, ye saved Tynan’s life."

  "Just as you predicted," Alenna said, the confirmation of the spaewoman’s prophecy tingling along her bones like an electric current. "What I don’t understand is why. Why was it so important I come back in time and save him?" The thought of Tynan dying sent a panic through her. She stiffened. "What if Tynan needs me now? What if saving his life this time wasn’t the only time I am supposed to help him?"

  Elizabet clasped Alenna’s hand. "Nay. He is no in need of ye now. He is with the baron."

  Johanna turned from the window. "Dougald comes."

  Johanna opened the door to Dougald. He still wore chain mail, although he had no coif or helm for his head. Grinning he said, "I’ve come to see how our heroine is."

  Johanna beamed at him, and as he winked at her she blushed.

  Elizabet stood. "She is fine. Would ye have some wine?"

  "Nay. I canna partake until the assembly tonight. And maybe not even then. We must be on guard for a full attack from the Ruthvens."

  "What exactly happened?" Alenna asked.

  "A soldier went traitor. Mayhap he thought to slip away with no of us the wiser."

  "Why would he want to kill Tynan in particular? Or was that just an accident?"

  Dougald sat down in a spindly chair, and Alenna heard it creak under his weight. "Tynan was guardin’ the baron. ‘Twould make sense the archer planned to kill Tynan first and then slay the baron. As was the plan of the knight that chased the baron into the bailey."

  "A clever plan," Elizabet said, taking a sip of her own wine.

  "Without the brave action of Mistress Carstairs, the plan might have worked," Dougald said, turning his brilliant smile on Alenna.

  "I didn’t think. I just acted," Alenna said.

  "Where did ye learn to use a bow?" Dougald shifted in his chair as if the very idea made him nervous.

  "I learned as a child. My father taught me."

  "He was a wise man, I ken. For where would Tynan be now, if it hadna been for ye?" Dougald asked.

  Johanna sighed dramatically. "Can I go home, mathair?"

  Elizabet gave her daughter a stern look. "If it will stop yer whinin’ it will be all right with me. Dougald, would ye be so kind as to see to her safety?"

  Dougald put his arm out to Johanna. "But of course. ‘Twould be my pleasure."

  Obviously pleased, Johanna took Dougald’s arm.

  After they’d left, Elizabet turned back to Alenna. "When Tynan came to me and said ye had been wounded, he was much worried."

  Alenna made a sound of contempt. "The man drives me crazy. You certainly didn’t see him thanking me for saving his life. Is he jealous? Does he feel since he’s a man and a knight he somehow failed?"

  A trace of a smile hovered on Elizabet’s lips. "Aye. I dinna ken for sure, but ‘tis rare for a woman to fight such as ye did. And that ye kept him from his duty also made him sore."

  "Kept him from his duty? How?"

  Elizabet sat in the chair Dougald had occupied a short time ago. "Ye are a woman, Alenna. He feels he must protect ye. Not the other way ‘round."

  Of course. How could she be so dumb? "His pride is wounded."

  "Aye, and more. When ye were hurt he was taken from his duty, and ‘tis his duty to protect the baron. Ye kept him from doin’ that duty because he was worried for ye. He left the baron’s side to take care of ye."

  Alenna clenched her hands together. "Will he be punished for that?"

  "By the baron, I dinna believe so. By himself … aye." She paused for a long moment before continuing. "He has much sorrow within him, that man. He dinna like feelin’ for ye. He’s fair gone in love with ye already."

  Alenna almost choked on her wine. Tynan in love with her? How could that great, lumbering, ugly—

  Oh, now she was deluding herself. He was far from lumbering, and light years from ugly.

  "In love with me," she whispered, incredulous.

  The idea of his love … no matter how brutish, no matter how crazy, was a wild, robust potion that slid into her bloodstream like a firestorm.

  "Aye. Gone from the first he lay eyes on ye," Elizabet said.

  "No. He can’t be. I don’t believe in love at first sight. It’s all a chemical thing. You know … hormones."

  "Hormones?"

  "It’s … uh … something from the future. But he can’t be in love with me."

  "He can and he is. But ‘twill take more time for him to ken his feelin’s."

  Alenna would have spoken, but the door swung wide and Tynan stepped in, carrying a large bundle under one arm, his shield, and his sword. As he slammed the door behind him, he put the weapons and bundle on the bench beside the door. His hair was tousled, a day’s growth of beard covered his jaw, and the darkness of fatigue shadowed his eyes.

  "Elizabet, thank you for tending Alenna’s wound."

  "Ye are most welcome," Elizabet said as she stood. "Are ye well?"

  "Aye," he said, hastily yanking his cloak off and pulling his stained shirt over his head in another quick jerk.

  Alenna let out a gasp when she saw the bruises covering his right side. She rose and walked toward him, her attention fixed on the damage. "When did you get those bruises?"

  He glanced at the black and blue skin. "‘Tis nothin’."

  "Have ye anythin’ for those?" Elizabet asked.

  "The poultice
ye left me two weeks ago."

  Elizabet smiled at him, then gave Alenna a conspiratorial smile. "Well, ‘tis in a hard place to reach. I suggest ye have Alenna help ye put it on."

  "But—" Alenna began to protest.

  "I take all is clear and safe now?" Elizabet asked as she walked to the door.

  Tynan dropped slowly into the chair Elizabet had vacated. "All is clear. Take care."

  After Elizabet left, he stared at the door for several moments, a look of sheer concentration putting tiny lines around his eyes. Curious about what troubled him, Alenna poured him wine and held the goblet out to him. He took it blindly, without saying anything.

  A niggling annoyance and worry built within her. "Did you get those bruises when you fell off your horse?"

  He snapped to attention, as if she’d knocked him out of a stupor. "Nay. I was kicked by one of the men pursuing us today. I fell about twenty lengths over the side of an outcroppin’." He reached out and took her hand, pulling her closer until her legs almost touched his.

  "What! Twenty feet—"

  "I wasna hurt, lass. How is yer wound? Does it pain ye much?"

  It throbbed, but not enough to distract her. Not as much as the barrage of questions Alenna had for him. "No."

  "Guid. But ye must never disobey me again and leave the tower without my permission." Stone hard, Tynan’s expression was unreadable.

  An immediate retort came to her lips, and was silenced as he turned her hand over and traced her palm with his index finger. A sweet shiver traced along her body. Lord have mercy. The man had found one of her erogenous zones.

  "Ye have such soft hands. The kind of hands a man wad die to have on him."

  The husky statement sent an additional glimmer of heat over her, setting her pulse into swift beats.

  She pulled her hand away. "Are you worried someone will discover I’m from the future?"

  Tynan stood, and she stepped back, startled by his sudden movement. He towered over her. All six foot five of finely honed, superbly muscled, male creature. As he glared down at her she should have been afraid. Instead she was as exhilarated as if she’d just finished a roller coaster ride.

  He smelled of sweat, horseflesh, and hard work. Yet despite the tangled hair, dirt on his face, and bruised flesh, he remained the most virile man she’d ever seen. The thought that he might have been seriously injured or killed today gnawed at her, and she almost reached out to touch his bruises.

  "You’re not going to tell me, are you?" she asked.

  "Ye could have been killed," he said with a soft hiss.

  "But I wasn’t. I was sent here to save you, remember?"

  "Aye. But no one is free from death. No one." His words, laced with bitterness, ate at her. "And whether you care or no, a woman isna safe in this castle without her man. Please promise me ye will listen to me."

  "You let Elizabet go home with no escort. What makes her different?"

  "She is familiar with the castle. And though many respect her, they fear her as well."

  It made sense. The superstitious, which would probably include everyone in this case, might think Elizabet could put a hex on them if they dared harm her.

  "Promise me ye will listen to me from now on," he said again.

  The idea of taking direction in all things from a man grated her nerves. But this wasn’t the twentieth century.

  "I can’t promise it—"

  "Alenna." Tynan cupped her face in his hands. His gaze penetrated something inside her, smoldering and flowing through her like a heady liqueur. "I vow, if ye dinna obey me, ye'll learn quickly what I’ll do."

  The threat ignited her in a way she didn’t want … shouldn’t want. Part of her wished to tell him to go to hell. The other realized letting him kiss her would be surrendering to feelings and emotions she couldn’t have. Not for a man from another time. Not for any man in any time. Alenna couldn’t allow him to kiss her again.

  "All right, I’ll obey."

  "Guid," he said, releasing her and heading slowly to the bundle he’d put on the bench. He unwrapped it, and she watched in fascination as a gown not unlike the one Caithleen had worn today was slowly revealed. "Then I will show ye what Caithleen gave ye to wear."

  "Another dress," she said, numb.

  His smile was tinged with disapproval. "‘Twas a present, actually, from his lordship."

  The emerald green velvet garment was exquisite in every detail. A matching green silk band for her head and a gossamer thin white veil also nestled within the bundle.

  Her gasp of appreciation made him glower. "Put it on now. We have little time to spare before the meal at the great hall."

  "But I thought it was reserved for nobility and high born and you said—"

  "‘Twould be, but there is naught but the knights, and the baron and his men who will be there. Yer bravery has taken his attention. He wishes to pay ye homage. And, as yer cousin, I canna let ye go without an escort."

  "I see." Intrigued, she examined the dress.

  "And when the baron requests yer presence, then ye must go."

  Glancing at Tynan’s disheveled state, she gave him a dubious once over. "You’re going to go to the great hall like that?"

  His sensual lips turned up in the slightest of smiles. "Nay." He reached for the container of poultice. "After ye dress, will ye help me put on the poultice?"

  His request made her breath accelerate. The very idea of touching him sent a silly dance of butterflies into her stomach. But if she didn’t obey him …

  "Yes. If you can find me some new shoes." She held up one foot and showed him her ankle high shoe. "They pinch my feet."

  "Those are the biggest I could find."

  "I’ll just have to wear my own shoes," she said, smiling and knowing she’d do no such thing.

  Tynan had spent a considerable time looking at her athletic shoes, totally fascinated by the white nylon and leather, and the shoelaces.

  "I suppose there might be a man or two with feet as big as ye," he said, straight-faced.

  At five seven and a half Alenna was hardly an Amazon. She grinned and went into the other room to dress. She paused in the doorway, remembering that Caithleen had expected her to give a message to Tynan.

  "I almost forgot. Before the siege on the castle I saw Caithleen, and she told me she’d meet you in the galley in the gloaming."

  Tynan quirked up one eyebrow. "Did she now?"

  He didn’t offer any more explanation, only turned to stare into the fire. Although tempted to ask him why Caithleen wanted to meet with him, she doubted she’d get an answer. If he’d planned a liaison with Caithleen, he seemed an honorable enough man not to speak of it in front of others. With a sense of keen disappointment that he might be having an affair with the young girl, she went into the other room to change.

  Tight through the chest, the kirtle and surcoat took some maneuvering. Alenna almost took them off and told Tynan she couldn’t wear the garments. After fumbling with them for a short time, she decided they would do. She had no time to wash out her under things, so she left them off.

  Taking a deep, nervous breath, she stepped into the room. Tynan faced away from her, gazing into the fire in the hearth. He turned and his expression went stiff, as if he’d been hit over the head by a hammer.

  "Cat got your tongue?" she asked when the silence stretched as far as Death Valley.

  A tiny, crooked grin tilted one side of his mouth. He walked slowly toward her until all she could see was his hard, muscled frame, and his gaze boring into hers.

  "Beautiful," he whispered.

  * * *

  CHAPTER 7

  "Beautiful," Tynan said again, softly and with a slight catch in his throat.

  Yes, he had seen many beautiful women in his life. But no one compared to Alenna. The vivid hue of the fabric brought a special light to her eyes that enchanted him as much as a sweet muse.

  As he walked toward her, her eyes widened. Did she still fear him? Guid. She should
be afraid. Seeing her caution gave him back a little of the discipline he’d had before she appeared in his life. No woman had ever released a torrent of emotions within him the way Alenna did. Not Florie. Not even Mary.

  "Caithleen is beautiful," Alenna said.

  Her words stopped his advance. "She is. A very bonnie lass."

  "And very young." Hardness replaced the confusion he saw in her gaze.

  "Aye. Young. Too young to—"

  He cut himself off in time to avoid revealing anything.

  "Too young for what?" she asked.

  Alenna would no doubt discover Caithleen’s status when she attended the banquet, so it was useless to hide the truth. "She is the baron’s mistress."

  Alenna gasped. "Oh, my God. That explains her extravagant dress." He watched as she traced her hands down the velvet covering her hips.

  God’s blood, what he would give to touch her that way.

  A surge of heat poured into his loins, bringing him to instant, painful arousal. He took a deep breath. Nay. He couldn’t give in to the need that ate at his gut like a feeding beast.

  "So that is why she is dressed like a queen and Clandon is still in rags," Alenna said.

  "Aye." He advanced a few more steps until he stood close enough to inhale her pure scent.

  "Why does she do it?" she asked.

  "The baron wanted her and she is poor. He gives her jewels and clothin’ and food."

  A twitch of her lips, a slight curling of disgust marred the shape of her mouth. He’d seen that look before, and it intrigued him as much as amused him.

  "The baron wanted her," she said again, putting her hands on her hips. "So she just goes off to be his mistress because he wants her? Doesn’t she have any scruples?"

  Alenna’s words baffled him a little. "What is this scruples you speak of? Few women would turn from warm lodgin’, plenty to eat, and clothes like ye have on now. And if I think on it, she is a wee bit past marriage age."

  She heaved a sigh. "I forgot what century I’m in. Women in my time are not the property of men and rarely marry at seventeen."

  Tynan made a sound of disbelief. "Women have no protectors? No men at their hearth?"

  A small smile erased the sarcastic tinge from her lips. "Yes, many of them do have husbands. But many don’t. In the future women do many of the things only men do in this time." When he said nothing, taking in her words with amazement, she continued. "They are even soldiers."