A Bridge Through The Mist

by Denise A. Agnew

  Alenna watched in fascination as servants brought more food into the room. Wooden spoons were provided, though some of the men used knives to eat. The baron, Alenna, and Caithleen were given wooden bowls lined with bread and a manservant provided them with beef, venison, and chicken from a silver platter.

  "I would have you choose our meat for us this night," the baron said to Alenna.

  When the manservant held the platter in front of her, she hesitated, feeling slightly nauseated from a night’s accumulation of nerves.

  "Mistress Carstairs, are you feeling unwell from your wound?" The baron asked, his brows lowering into a frown.

  "Mayhap the events of today have distressed ye," Caithleen said, her concern clearly written on her young face.

  Alenna was surprised Caithleen had said a thing; she’d been silent until this point.

  "I am well," Alenna said, and pointed at the chicken.

  After the baron took a large portion, he served Alenna and then Caithleen. Once they’d had a blessing, they took more wine while kitchen assistants brought in bread and butter.

  The men at the lower tables didn’t receive wooden bowels, but trenchers of bread that they shared with another. Tynan and Dougald ate with relish, using their fingers.

  As the meal progressed, she followed the examples of those around her. People didn’t put their elbows on the table, nor did they spit on the floor, or wipe their mouths on their sleeves. The formality startled her. Somewhere she had gotten the idea that people in this time didn’t care about table manners.

  As Alenna ate the chicken, she noted the heavy garlic and pepper seasoning. She wondered if she would ever be able to stomach eating the food in this century. Even sipping the wine didn’t take away the bizarre taste. Wondering if the spices covered the flavor of spoiling meat, she put down her spoon. Her stomach did a nasty turn.

  As the meal progressed, the din in the room increased as the knights talked. The baron spared few words for Caithleen and concentrated on Alenna. At no time did Caithleen look angry at being spurned, yet Alenna felt uncomfortable with his attention.

  The servants arrived with the washbowls again and afterwards served cheese and nuts. Alenna took one look at the additional food and decided if she took another bite, she would be sick. She pushed aside her bowl.

  "You are not eating," the baron said, indignation in every word.

  She gave him a feeble smile. She had to have an excuse for not eating or he would be insulted, and right now she did feel nauseated. "I fear I am unwell, my lord."

  "She does look most pale," Caithleen said, looking around the baron. "Perhaps you should take your leave and rest, Alenna."

  Grateful for Caithleen’s suggestion, she said, "Thank you."

  "My apologies," he said, his tone changing to sympathetic.

  Deciding it was better for him to assume the arrow wound was the problem and not the food, she nodded. "My wound does pain me. I am tired. It has been a long day."

  "Then we shall not keep you longer at table. Tomorrow, if you are well, you may dine with us and stay long enough to hear the minstrels play."

  "Thank you, my lord."

  As she stood a wave of dizziness came over her so that she had to grip the table. Hoping she could stop the twirling sensation, she closed her eyes and tightened her hold on the table.

  "Alenna," a deep, concerned voice said at her elbow. She opened her eyes as Tynan put his arm around her waist. "I will take care of her, my lord."

  "I am all right. I—"

  "Tynan shall see you safely to your chambers," the baron said. He nodded and smiled as they left.

  Once out of the great hall, Tynan pulled her to his chest. His expression was thunderous, as if she’d committed a great transgression.

  Before he could speak she said, "You can wipe that glower off your face, Tynan. I can’t help it if I don’t eat rotten meat every day."

  "Meat in yer time is better?"

  "It’s preserved by freezing."

  His eyebrows went up. "Then ye have only good meat in the winter?"

  His comical expression temporarily took her mind off the muddle in her intestines and she smiled. "No. We have a way to keep it frozen year round."

  Cocking his head to the side slightly, he said, "I’ve much to learn of yer time, Alenna."

  In contrast to the glares he’d given her all evening, his gaze grew soft and concerned. Without hesitation he lifted her in his arms.

  "Tynan, you don’t have to carry me."

  He strode through the castle. "Nay. But I will. I’m takin’ ye home."

  Home.

  A strange word for him to use.

  He shifted her in his arms as if to get a better grip. "I’ll have Elizabet put together a tea for ye."

  At the mention of the woman’s name, a twinge of consternation added to the conflict in her stomach. "The baron was very talkative tonight."

  "Aye. I could see that. He likes yer company too much."

  The sour quality to his tone surprised her. "Why too much?"

  "When it comes to women, I dinna trust him."

  "Because he’s had ten mistresses?"

  Tynan looked down at her, and in the flickering light of one of the torches, she noted the tightness about his mouth. A sure sign of his disapproval, if ever there was one.

  "A man with mistresses is often foolish. He doesna think with his mind."

  She smiled. "I see. You mean you’re afraid he won’t make good decisions if he’s distracted by a woman."

  "Aye."

  Alenna let out a laugh. "Do you know this from personal experience?"

  "Aye. If a man places a woman’s welfare above his duties, above the trust other people have in him, he is fair ruined."

  Startled by his statement and by how it made her feel, Alenna said, "So a man in love is ruined?"

  His nodded firmly. "Aye, he is."

  "You think the baron can’t perform his duties correctly when he has a mistress?"

  "If he dare fall in love with her." As they came to the Black Tower, Tynan sat her on her feet.

  "Is he in love with Caithleen?"

  "Nay. But if he were to take ye as his mistress, I ken it wadna be long before he were a mad man."

  Indignation stirred her as he opened the door and they went into the room. "Are you saying I would make him crazy?"

  Shaking his head as if she couldn’t possibly understand, he leaned in close. "Ye might, at that."

  "I don’t know whether to be insulted or flattered," she said weakly.

  "He finds ye comely, as any man with two eyes must."

  Suddenly the warmth and special attention in Tynan’s gaze was immediate. Too intimate.

  Do you find me comely, Tynan?

  He jerked back, and for a moment Alenna thought she’d asked the question aloud. Feeling tired, she sat on the pallet. Immediately he went to work on starting a fire in the hearth.

  "The baron will want ye for his mistress before long."

  She gasped. "What?"

  "I watched ye together. Dougald even noticed it."

  "If you mean that he was rude to ignore Caithleen, then you’re right—"

  "‘Tis not just that. ‘Tis in his eyes. I saw it before he took Caithleen as his mistress. If a man looks close, he can see what another man is plottin’. ‘Tis not a hard thing to do."

  "You had me fooled. I thought you were staring at me and yet you were watching the baron."

  He cocked an eyebrow and grinned. "I was starin’ at ye part of the time."

  The little devil on her shoulder wanted to know why. "Oh?"

  He stood. "I wanted to see if ye wished for his attentions."

  "Of course not. He touched me," she said.

  His spine stiffened. "He touched ye?"

  "On the hand. Several times."

  He swallowed hard. "He should no have done that."

  "Well, he seems like the type of man who does whatever he wants, whenever he wants."

 
Tynan’s face hardened again. "Aye."

  Even in that moment, when he frowned, she knew the essence of what made Tynan a powerful man. When he looked at a woman he saw her. Beyond a woman’s fetching facade, or fancy clothing, Tynan looked into the soul.

  Somehow his watchfulness was deeper than sexual, though as disquieting as any lustful gaze. As he continued to stare, she felt devoured, yet somehow protected at the same time.

  Alenna drank in the sight of him like a thirsty woman. In that moment she understood why women admired him, and yet feared the primal man hovering under the surface.

  "I’ll get Elizabet for ye," he said.

  Seconds later he was out the door, leaving her more confused about the man than ever.

  * * *

  "Drink this."

  Elizabet handed Alenna a goblet filled with a substance that looked like weak coffee. "What is it?"

  Elizabet sat in a chair next to the table. "Southernwood. ‘Tis a weak herb tea I’ve put together for the cramps. Cures most that ails a poor stomach. Though ye must not have more than one cup, for beyond that ‘tis most unhealthy."

  Skeptical, Alenna tested the drink and found the flavor similar to chamomile tea. "Toxic?"

  "I dinna ken that word."

  Alenna took another healthy swallow and found the taste better the second time around. "Harmful."

  "Aye. But dinna fash yerself. I wadna give ye that much."

  Smiling, Alenna ignored the continuing tumble in her stomach for something else plaguing her mind. "Did Tynan go back to the great hall?"

  Elizabet rose from her chair and checked the makeshift bandage on Alenna’s arm. "Yer wound looks much better even now." For a moment she appeared unwilling to speak about Tynan, but then continued. "He dinna say where he was goin’, only that it would be awhile, and I should stay with ye until he returns."

  Decidedly weary, Alenna said, "You don’t have to stay."

  "Tynan would be angry with me if I left ye here alone."

  Alenna sighed. "Do you always do what he says?"

  Elizabet smiled. She held her hands out to the roaring fire. "He is used to my stubborn ways, if that is what ye mean."

  The answer seemed designed to obscure rather than clarify, and Alenna wanted to ask the petite woman if she was Tynan’s mistress. But despite the need, she managed to reign it in for fear of alienating Elizabet. She appeared to be a good woman, with a kind heart. Alenna already considered her a friend.

  "Then he shouldn’t have trouble getting used to me," Alenna said finally.

  "Ye have softened his hardened soul. But ‘tis no a bad thing."

  Alenna rose gingerly from the pallet and discovered her stomach already felt better. "He thinks the baron wants me for his mistress. But he said he only keeps one at a time … and there is Caithleen."

  The tiny woman retreated from the fire to stand closer to Alenna. "The baron takes women when and where he will."

  "What about married women—"

  "Oh, nay. Nay, he chooses them carefully. ‘Twas barely a day after he banished his last mistress when he had Caithleen move into his chambers. I saw what he was about long before that."

  "What do you mean?"

  "‘Twas plain he meant to be rid of his other mistress. She was gettin’ nigh on five-and-twenty years old, and her looks were goin’."

  "Twenty-five? Terribly old."

  A grin tilted Elizabet’s lips. "In your time, I take it this is very young."

  "Adult. But still young." The idea relieved Alenna somewhat. "If I’m nine-and-twenty, he shouldn’t want anything to do with me."

  "But ye are fine lookin’ and unmarked for someone of yer age."

  Speculating on Elizabet’s age again, Alenna finally gave up and asked. "You’re a beautiful woman. How old are you?"

  "I am three decades old."

  Alenna knew her mouth hung open. "But your daughter is–"

  "Six and ten. I gave birth to her when I was but four-and-ten."

  "How is that Tynan has reached his age without a wife and child?" Alenna asked without thinking. "He’s old by the standards of this time. Even that scar on his forehead doesn’t take away his looks."

  "Aye. Tynan is a braw man. Make no mistake, the women hereabouts think very well of him. Many a young woman, and some not so young, have pined for him. Mathairs have oft set to make their girls available in marriage to him."

  "Well, you were wrong to say he’s in love with me, Elizabet. He told me tonight a man in love is distracted from his duty."

  "He does fine work of pretendin’ that which he doesna feel, lass."

  The wistful tone in Elizabet’s voice led Alenna to believe the baron was right. Elizabet was Tynan’s mistress, but maybe she wanted his love.

  Elizabet went to the window. The bright moon illuminated her finely drawn features. Did Elizabet wish Tynan was with her now? Alenna recalled his meeting with Caithleen. Was Tynan toying with both Caithleen and Elizabet’s affections? Annoyance moved through her like writhing worms. Damn him. She didn’t care if it was the fourteenth century. He couldn’t play with the hearts of these women. Elizabet and Caithleen deserved men that would love them with all their heart and soul.

  "I suppose he has more than one woman at a time?" Alenna asked, fiddling with the plaid on the pallet.

  Elizabet turned her gaze from the window, her brows pinched together in a frown. "Nay, he is much different than the baron."

  Yet Elizabet said he loved her. If Elizabet was his mistress, why would Elizabet believe him in love with another woman? Deep in her heart Alenna felt Tynan couldn’t hurt someone he cared about. Could he?

  "Has the tea helped ye?" Elizabet asked as she returned to sit at the table.

  Either the tea or the conversation had helped, because the discomfort had reduced. But she had a sneaking suspicion the cramps weren’t the result of rotten food.

  "I do feel better," Alenna said. "I think I know what’s wrong, though. What do women do here when they get their, hmmm …" she searched her mind for the right words "… monthly courses?"

  * * *

  Tynan moved through the semi-darkness of the castle, working his way toward Dougald’s chambers in the west tower. As he walked, he inhaled a deep draught of the night, scented the clean air that washed away more of the earthy aromas of the day.

  All around him, though, he sensed an unsettled wave of discontent and malaise, increasing with each passing day. The people of the castle were loyal to the baron. But with what he had learned tonight from Caithleen, he wasn’t certain how much longer he could remain a faithful attendant to his lordship. It wounded his soul to think all this time he might have placed his trust in someone who did not deserve it.

  In four years he’d found refuge for the heartache that had trailed him from Glenfinnan, and he’d encountered much to be thankful for in his lordship’s service. Strong in body and spirit as he may be, Tynan didn’t know if he could withstand anything more. It seemed the last few years had been nothing but blow after blow … disappointment after disappointment. Such was the life of a sinner, and it may be his iniquity had been too great to atone for. Too great to stamp out with good deeds or intentions.

  Shoving aside self-pity, he thought of Alenna and hoped she felt better. Although he’d wanted to remain at her side earlier in the evening, what he’d seen at the meal had assured him that a visit with Caithleen was necessary. The baron planned something involving Alenna and Tynan had to know what.

  A fierce rush of protective instinct entered his heart. By God, no man … not even his lordship, had better lay a hand on her again.

  He would kill them.

  * * *

  CHAPTER 9

  When Alenna awoke late in the night, the room was silent and cold. Nothing of the fire remained.

  Tynan hadn’t returned yet from his trip to see Caithleen.

  She rose from the pallet and looked out the window. She saw nothing but the darkest black night. No one seemed to be up and abou
t.

  A niggling of worry for his safety started within her.

  Perhaps Tynan had stayed away from her because of anger. As the biggest, strongest man in the whole damned castle, he probably believed he could do fine without her.

  She smiled. His male ego had splintered when a mere woman had saved his life. At the moment she didn’t feel at all macho.

  She hadn’t spent one night alone in this alien world. She’d found restless snatches of sleep, stolen from the few moments her ears didn’t detect the sounds of night.

  Where on earth could Tynan be? Was he hurt … lying somewhere in need of help? Fright went straight through her like a cold sword. The idea of him lying dead terrified her. She wrung her hands and tried to regain her wits. Determined not to give in to a fresh spate of unreasonable panic, she shoved her feet into her shoes and set about making a fire. Even this simple duty couldn’t keep her mind off Tynan’s whereabouts.

  Maybe he was safe.

  Maybe he had stayed in Caithleen’s arms.

  A wedge of discomfort, unexpected and unwanted, came into her heart. She poked at the fire, stabbing as if it were Tynan’s face. The image startled her and she stopped at mid-thrust.

  Convincing herself her restlessness and worry had as much to do with hormone overload as it did from real concerns didn’t come easy. She wouldn’t have peace until she’d found Tynan.

  For several moments Alenna stared into the fire and contemplated her options. Gadding about the castle in daylight was one thing, but traipsing along at night wouldn’t exactly be a day in the park. She went to the other room and located the dagger Tynan had left for her use.

  For several minutes she stood by the fire contemplating her plan to leave the tower. Tynan had to be all right. Besides, what could she do for him? The fire snapped, reminding her she had saved his life once.

  Perhaps her purpose in coming back in time was to be his permanent guard.

  Absurd!

  What would be the sense in that?

  Nerves fraying at the edges like unraveling cloth, she made a decision. Intuition told her to seek him out—there must be a good reason for her being here.

  After changing her clothes, she went into the night. Shivering under her cloak, she hurried out the door toward the tower where she knew Dougald and several other knights resided.