A Bridge Through The Mist

by Denise A. Agnew

  "Eh? Soldiers? Is that what ye were?"

  A soft laugh escaped her. "No. Why would you think that?"

  "The way ye fought. I never saw a woman do the things ye did today."

  A satisfied gleam came into her expression. "And you were worried about me being able to take care of myself?"

  The challenge in her statement, spoken in a honey and smoke voice, did something to his senses. When he stepped closer, Alenna’s guarded expression told him his aggressive stance had the effect he wanted. Maybe he would threaten her with kisses to keep her in line, even if it came at the expense of his own sanity.

  "Do ye need another taste of the dangers hereabout?" he asked softly, unable to stop himself. He leaned closer, wanting to taste her lips again and hard pressed to keep from taking her in his arms.

  He saw the quick intake of her breath as much as he heard it. Her breasts rose slightly as she took another slow, less startled breath. "I’ve had all the danger I need since I’ve been here."

  "Yet ye defy the very idea of takin’ my lead."

  "In my time, I have only myself to rely on. No one else."

  "Ye must ken that everyone in the castle is in danger, lass. Dinna think these thick walls can keep ye safe if the castle is attacked. Ye must be on yer guard at all times."

  Alenna shrank back a little, as if his warning had some effect. Satisfied with her worry and his ability to intimidate her, he eased back.

  He took in her prettiness and compared it to other woman he knew. Half her allure came in the bold, often impudent way she talked and presented herself. Her defiance made his blood surge, tossing him from anger to lust with relative ease. His gaze fell to the snug fit of her bodice, and he wanted to cup those full breasts in his hands. To taste the centers and bring them to hard, hot life.

  What would it be like to smooth his hands down the fabric of her gown and mold her hips to his? He held back a groan when he thought of moving intimately between her legs, of sinking into the hot, tight warmth.

  Tynan watched her face turn a becoming shade of pink. Her lips parted, and he almost leaned down and covered her mouth with his, right then and there. It took all his willpower not to touch her. He cleared his throat.

  "And why have ye no guidman?" he asked.

  "I was engaged once."

  "Engaged?"

  Alenna paused, as if searching for the right way to answer. "Betrothed."

  "And why are ye no with him now?"

  Pain flickered in the depths of her eyes, and he regretted that his question served to hurt her.

  "He found another woman more to his taste. We worked together. I was a paralegal … a person who assists in the law. We were a day away from our wedding and he …" She swallowed.

  "Then what?"

  "I found him in bed with another woman. He said he didn’t love me anymore, and when I went back to work … I found I couldn’t handle it. I got angry, and we had an argument in the office. The firm dismissed me from my job. I wanted to get away from him so much I didn’t even fight for my career."

  "Och, what a sumph. He does no deserve ye."

  "Sumph?"

  "A man with no brain. Why would he trade a woman like ye for another?" He let his guard down, drinking in the way her lips parted in surprise. Wanting to consume the taste of her as well. He reached out to touch her.

  She moved away from him before his hand touched her shoulder.

  Tynan took a deep breath and shoved his craving back into the deep well he’d placed it in, after Florie’s murder. He doubted this beautiful woman gave her favors lightly.

  Alenna reached for the poultice. "I’ll put this on your bruises."

  The idea of having her hands on him sent a shaft of heat into his gut for what seemed the hundredth time in an hour.

  "Nay." He’d live with the ache in his side for awhile longer, or he’d have an agony far more powerful in his loins to contend with all night. "I must get ready."

  Tynan turned away, wondering how he could continue to withstand this woman in his chambers, so close, yet so far away.

  * * *

  As Alenna advanced into the great hall in the keep of the castle, a feeling of unreality passed over her. Only the sensation of Tynan’s hard forearm under her fingers gave her strength. What fortitude she’d bolstered with wine had dissipated the moment Tynan had called her beautiful. The look in his eyes had unsettled her.

  No man had a right to eyes that delved deep into a woman’s psyche and plumbed her secret desires. Tynan’s eyes were those of a predator, a ravenous beast in need of a healthy snack. Unless she was blind she’d have to recognize that look.

  He wanted her.

  She glanced up at him quickly. He appeared calm and perhaps even bored. Then again, he’d probably attended these repasts numerous times, and had escorted woman far more beautiful.

  The scent of cooked meat tickled her nostrils, and her stomach growled. Placing a hand over her stomach, she hoped no one could hear. So far today she’d had bread, wine, and some stew and it had worn off a long time ago. Other scents assaulted her; unwashed bodies and a few more aromas as yet unidentifiable.

  Alenna gazed at the cathedral-like vaulted roof and its criss-crossed timbers. Two great fireplaces, large enough for a human to stand almost upright within them, were at either side of the hall. Fires burned within them, but she could still see her breath. She shivered, wishing for her fur lined cloak.

  Along a wall halfway between the two fireplaces was the hie burde, the wood platform elevating the high table. Behind the table, in the center, sat a man she could only assume was the baron. Above him hung a flag, which Alenna recalled was called a cloth of estate.

  Before she could take in more of the room, the baron looked directly at her. From this distance she couldn’t identify the shade of his eyes, but he had no compunction about staring. A tumble of light brown hair, thinning on top, curled above his collar. Two dimples creased his narrow face as he gave her a thin, tight smile. He looked about forty years old. Uncertain how to act, she took a wild guess, and lowered her head and gave a slight curtsey.

  Tynan leaned down to her slightly. "Are ye sure ye have no done this before?"

  "I’m certain." As soon as she said the words, Alenna knew she was lying. Somewhere, at some time, she had entered a great hall, perhaps even this one. For all its feudal harshness, this place had an oddly familiar flavor that she neither understood nor wanted to think too much about. "I guessed a curtsy was in order."

  She quickly surveyed the rest of the room as they continued to walk. Next to the main table was a series of trestle tables set in a perpendicular fashion to the baron’s dais. Fourteen men sat on benches around the table, some of them in chain mail. Only three people in the room wore velvet.

  Herself, Caithleen and the baron.

  This made Alenna uncomfortable; in a sense she felt like a bullock on display, as the men turned to look at her slow progression.

  Caithleen sat to the right of the baron, a smile spreading over her face as she nodded to Alenna.

  "She’s sitting with the baron," Alenna whispered to Tynan as he led her to the main table.

  "Aye. The baron willna hide his mistresses from sight."

  "He has more than one mistress?"

  "Caithleen has been his mistress for a short spell … he keeps only one at a time."

  "How many has he had?"

  "Ten."

  "Ten? In the four years you’ve been here he’s had ten?" Her voice almost squeaked in her indignation.

  "Nay. He’s had but four since I’ve been here."

  Her mouth went on without her brain. "How many have you had?"

  "‘Tis not yer concern," he snapped, startling her. "Save your worry for yer speech. Try to sound more like one of us."

  "How? It’s not like I’m good with accents."

  "Try."

  She glared at him as they proceeded down the line of tables to the dais.

  The baron did not stand,
but nodded to them again. Alenna curtsied, and Tynan bowed at the waist.

  "My lord, this is Alenna, my cousin. Alenna, his lordship Malcomb Leath, Baron MacAulay."

  "Mistress Carstairs, I am pleased to make your acquaintance and thank you for Tynan’s life. You have given it back to me when all might have been lost. Please, sit at my table." Flavored with cultured English tones, his voice was deep, but sounded rusty, as if his windpipe had been damaged. He gestured to an empty chair to the left of him.

  "Oh, no, I couldn’t—"

  Tynan nudged her slightly with his arm.

  "You have saved Tynan’s life, Mistress, and perhaps even my own," the baron said. "And for that I would be grateful and have you as my guest tonight. I hear you have acquaintance with Caithleen." He nodded toward Caithleen.

  "Aye," Alenna said, hoping this was the right answer. "Both she and her …" she looked for the word she’d heard Caithleen use, "brathair have been most kind to me."

  The baron tilted one eyebrow. "Clandon?" He glanced at Caithleen. "He’s a mischievous boy, if ever I have seen one."

  Mischievous maybe, but a good kid nonetheless. "He’s a nice boy."

  The baron blinked, as if a bit shocked by her assessment. He gave her a small, rather calculating smile. "He knows how to get into trouble. My steward had him whipped for impudence on more than one occasion."

  Alenna’s distaste grew in her mouth like mold on bread, but she kept her immediate thoughts to herself.

  Caithleen smiled brightly at her. How could Caithleen sit there and smile, when the baron had just said he’d whipped her brother? Alenna didn’t believe Caithleen could be a heartless young lady. There were things Alenna had yet to understand. Unlike the life she’d led before, here in this world she couldn’t control much of what happened around her. Sometimes she felt like a duckling swimming on its own in a big, deep sea. Being at this table with the baron made her uncomfortable, as if she was his mistress as well.

  Wishing she could rely on Tynan for help with her medieval etiquette, she kept her gaze on the baron. "I would be delighted to sit at your table, my lord."

  After she was seated, Tynan left the dais area and took a seat on a bench next to Dougald.

  A man came into the room and brought a bowl to the baron, then poured water into it out of a pitcher. When the baron and Caithleen washed their hands and took the rough cloth handed to them by the servant, Alenna followed suit.

  The baron smiled, and his grin showed crooked, yellow teeth. Silver grey, his eyes compelled with a hypnotic lure as potent as a wolf stalking prey. "You are welcome at my table every evening, Mistress Carstairs."

  "I usually take meals with my cousin."

  "Aye. But I would like to see you here at least twice a fortnight, if not more. Your cousin is a great help to me, Mistress. Like him, you have shown that bravery runs in your family."

  Uncomfortable with his regard, she shifted in her chair.

  When a manservant set a pewter goblet of wine in front of her, she took a tentative sip, trying not to wrinkle her nose at the taste. Admittedly, it tasted better than the brew Tynan had at the tower.

  "Ah," the baron said. "I see you are modest. Such humility is admirable. I like boldness in women. To a point."

  Although he’d contradicted himself, she thought she knew what he meant. Spiciness in bed, but meek in all other aspects. "Tynan is brave. I just reacted."

  He leaned his elbow on the table and placed his chin in his hand. As he looked out over the tables filled with men, she hoped he’d keep that keen, penetrating gaze away from her. Unfortunately, he looked at her again.

  "Did it occur to you that you might have been saving the enemy?"

  The challenging question took her off guard. Her mouth opened, then shut.

  The baron chuckled, soft and without remorse. "‘Tis not often a woman of your bravery is thus mute."

  "I am not sure I know what you mean about the enemy."

  His lips thinned into an uncompromising line. "Many traitors have been discovered amidst my very own soldiers these many weeks. What if Tynan had been one of those traitors?"

  "Are you saying he’d betray you?" Alenna asked without thinking. A feeling of danger, of looking down into a deep well pumped through her stomach.

  "Nay. Tynan would never betray me. He is my most loyal and powerful knight." Like a chameleon his eyes changed from hard to glowing good humor. "You are indeed a woman of daring and intelligence. How is it that you know of archery?"

  "My father taught me when I was a child," she said, wondering if the inquisition had just started.

  "I see. How very unusual."

  "I had a varied upbringing," she said quickly, her heart thumping steadily harder as her discomfort with the situation increased. "I learned many things other girls did not."

  "What other things?"

  "Hiking … I mean climbing mountains. Self-defense."

  His brow wrinkled. "Defending yourself? Against what, pray tell?"

  "Other people."

  "Men?"

  She looked away from his penetrating gaze. "Aye."

  Feeling his scrutiny intensify, she wondered if she’d said too much. Then again, with a man like this, mystery might urge him on rather than repel him.

  He reached just under the table and placed his hand over hers. "I find that extremely exciting, Mistress."

  Nausea roiled in her stomach, and she stared at his hand like it was a nasty bug. Momentarily paralyzed, she let him caress her fingers. Unbidden fear clogged her throat, and she couldn’t speak. She sought a glimpse of Tynan and saw him watching them, almost as if he would come to her rescue if only she’d ask.

  "Don’t look so worried, dear. You need not fear I will harm you," the baron said.

  Alenna tore her gaze from Tynan’s, and slowly she pulled her fingers out from under the baron's grip.

  "I am not worried," she managed to say.

  With cool calculation in his expression he put his hand over hers again and said, "I have been told, you see, that you were meant to save Tynan’s life. That Elizabet, Tynan’s mistress, foresaw your arrival."

  For a moment her breath stopped. Not because the baron had revealed he knew her secret. Not because his hot, sticky hand lay over hers.

  Elizabet was Tynan’s mistress.

  * * *

  CHAPTER 8

  Alenna felt the blood drain from her face as she stared at the baron’s grinning countenance.

  Well, she had suspected Tynan cared for Elizabet. Was that why he wouldn’t answer her question about how many mistresses he’d had? Worse yet, did the baron also know Alenna came from the future?

  Automatically she looked at Tynan. He watched her, his face granite hard. Did he guess the baron touched her?

  "I am sorry, Mistress Carstairs. I have shocked you with my plain speaking. Forgive me," the baron said, removing his hand from hers.

  Partial relief swept through her. At least his clammy hand no longer touched her. "There is nothing to forgive, my lord. I suspected they were together."

  "Then you are not only beautiful and brave, but clever."

  "Your lordship is generous with his compliments."

  His grin widened, putting grooves in his cheeks. "Nay. I speak nothing but the truth in all matters. My word is my honor."

  Trying not to think about Tynan taking the petite Elizabet into his arms and making love to her, she turned her attention full on the baron. "Elizabet told you I would come to save Tynan’s life?"

  "Nay. She told me naught. But gossip runs rampant among the servants. I was told that you appeared out of a mist, right in front of Tynan’s war horse."

  A warning tickled the back of her neck, like a chill breeze. She smiled her broadest and feigned a small laugh. "The servant’s gossip is a falsehood. I am Tynan’s cousin."

  He laughed, the sound loud enough to echo around the hall. Many of the men, including Tynan, looked up.

  The baron lowered his voice and leaned c
lose to her. She caught a whiff of his unwashed body. "Do not worry yourself, my dear. I see you are an honorable woman. Though you speak with a strange accent and strange words, you are not the Beelzebub’s own, come to make mayhem on the people of the castle."

  Another disturbing tumble pushed into her stomach. "Do people think I have come here to do harm?"

  "Nay. And I shall have anyone who speaks ill of you flogged."

  She grabbed his forearm impulsively. "Oh, please do not. It is not important enough for such a severe punishment."

  He looked down at her hand, and she hastily snatched it away. "If I say ‘tis important. ‘Tis important."

  "I apologize, my lord."

  His lips curled into a knowing grin. "You are not familiar with our ways here. That gives you much latitude for mistakes. Much."

  Internally Alenna cursed. She had to be more careful what she said and did, or soon she’d be on the chopping block or hanging from the gallows.

  The baron clapped his hands together once and servants came into the room bearing platters of food. "We shall speak no more on it tonight."

  Later, after he’d consumed copious amounts of food, he spoke again. "We have fewer at table than I would like."

  "Tynan says the nobles won’t come here if they believe the Ruthvens will attack the castle at a moment’s notice," Alenna said.

  His hard eyes told her nothing. "If you mean that they are frightened hens, you are correct. They are afraid. They do not have people such as Tynan of MacBrahin, or Dougald of Douglas here to defend the castle. Without them, as well as my other good knights, the castle might fall to the heathens." The baron held up his wine goblet. "To all my good men. Long life and good health, so long as you serve me."

  A hardy cheer went up around the room, and Alenna looked at Tynan and Dougald. Dougald smiled and swigged his drink, whereas Tynan took a sip and put his cup down. His frown centered on her, and she looked away, conscious of a strange warmth spreading into her chest whenever she caught him looking at her.