A Bridge Through The Mist

by Denise A. Agnew

  Tynan’s brow furrowed, and he dropped his hand away from her face. "I was."

  As she stood, she felt at odds with herself. Walking out would show him she didn’t care about him, or at the very least show him how much his impertinence and teasing perturbed her. Why was she so mad at him?

  The answer pained her because she didn’t want it to be true.

  She was jealous.

  Plainly, simply, unequivocally jealous.

  "Are you messing with that young woman’s heart?" she asked suddenly.

  "Eh?" His frown deepened.

  "You know what I mean. Are you … are you sleeping with her?"

  When this wording received a perplexed look, she practically yelled at him. "Are you Caithleen’s lover?"

  He opened his mouth, then closed it.

  "Never mind," she snapped, turning to go.

  Alenna let out a squeak of surprise as he grabbed her hand and swung her about, tugging so that she fell directly into his lap.

  * * *

  CHAPTER 10

  Tynan settled Alenna’s bottom tight against him and wrapped his arms around her. One glance at his face said his time for teasing had ended. His dark-as-soot eyes melted her insides like chocolate and penetrated her guard, pulling her as close as his handhold. She stiffened against him.

  "Do ye always walk away when a person is speakin’ to ye?" he asked.

  "No. Only big, obnoxious, dumb—"

  "Are ye callin’ me a fool then? I ought to—"

  "What are you going to do? Hmm? Throw me in the dungeon? Feed me to the wolves?"

  "Nay," he whispered, leaning over her. "I’ve got other plans for ye."

  He gently kissed her forehead.

  A startled gasp left her throat as the burn of his lips zinged through her sensitive skin. Just the simple, light touch set sparklers of need exploding along her body.

  "Let me go."

  "I’ll let ye go when ye tell me where ye got the idea Caithleen and I are lovers."

  "You were meeting her alone last night. I just assumed—"

  "Och!" Tynan let out a growl and gritted his teeth. "Woman, I swear by all that’s holy, ye were sent not to save me but to fling me into my grave."

  "Huh. I won’t get so lucky. Maybe some more henchmen will beat me to it. They’ll get you next time and beat you into a soup. All you brave, braw macho types are like that, aren’t you? You think no one can bring you down. Well, you’re wrong." On a roll, feeling a rise of hormones and distress, she pushed forward, letting the words flow without thinking. "Or maybe the blow to the head has scrambled your brains even more than they already were—"

  "Enough!" Tynan’s face reddened, cheeks tinged with unmistakable anger. He looked like a madman for the space of a second, and she went rigid like a board in his arms, pushing against his chest. The rock solid feel of his muscles did nothing to reassure her.

  "I dinna ken why yer whinin’ and yammerin’ like a hound from hell’s gate! I’m here. I’m alive. What in the blazzin’ infernos of Beelzebub—"

  "Shut up!

  "Eh?"

  Tears welled in Alenna’s eyes again, and she crammed a sob back into her throat. God, since when had she turned into a complete ninny? Why was she overacting?

  "I’m sorry." Sighing, she relaxed in his tight grip, and deliberately softened her expression. "I was … I think it’s because I—"

  "Ye were afraid to be alone at night," he said, as matter-of-fact as if he’d announced that clouds produce rain and snow. A mighty grin punctuated his words.

  "No—"

  He laughed again, and she frowned.

  "Dinna worry, lass. I never fight unless I have to." His voice softened. "When I saw those bastards hurtin’ ye, it made my blood boil. Do ye call me mad for protectin’ ye, goin’ off to get myself beaten to a bluidy soup?"

  When she didn’t answer, he let out a sigh.

  "Is that what ye want, lass?" he asked softly. "First ye act as if I’m a madman and that I’ve done somethin’ wrong, yet ye act as if ye might care for me." He shook his head. "Nay, that couldna be."

  Care for him? Why else would she have been so concerned and frightened when she thought he’d be killed?

  Damn his eyes. Damn his deep, dark, sexy eyes. She cared about the thick-as-a-plank, fierce, insolent—

  "Would ye like to see me dead?" he asked. "For that is the look in yer eye."

  "No! Of course not … I … you …"

  "Aye? Why the burr under yer saddle, then?"

  Alenna clutched at his torn shirt. "I understand this is your time, but I hate to see women used by men like livestock. Like chattel traded from man to man, at a whim or pleasure."

  "Who is tradin’ women from man to man?"

  She flung out a hand. "The baron, for one. Elizabet explained to me that his last mistress was only twenty-five and that she was thrown aside when he tired of her, and then awhile later he replaced her with Caithleen."

  "Aye." His granite features hardened. "She was his mistress. But she wasna traded."

  "How do you know?"

  "Her name was Florie. I came to know her well." He moistened his lips. "A fine, fair woman with light hair and brown eyes. There was nothin’ old nor ugly about her. I dinna ken why he put her aside, other than he tired of her."

  "You knew her well?" She leaned back against his arms but he held her firm. "The baron gave her to you as a present, didn’t he? For a job well done?"

  "Aye. But ‘tis no what ye are thinkin’."

  "Well, how else could it be?"

  "The baron said he was given’ her to me because he dinna like her ways. She spoke with spice and fire. Like ye—"

  She rapped him on the chest lightly. "Get on with the story."

  "There’s more. She was goin’ to have a babe. The baron’s babe. She asked Elizabet for somethin’ to get rid of the babe, but I said that she could have the child, and I’d take care of it with her."

  Her heart squeezed in her chest and she felt as if his arms held her too tightly. "You were going to marry her?"

  He flinched slightly. "Nay. I dinna wish to marry her. But I could have kept her from harm, until she found another man to take her. She was a free woman. But she chose to stay with me and after a month we became lovers. I bought her clothes and she stayed with me at the Black Tower."

  A tight knot formed in her throat and threatened to choke her. "And?"

  "She took a likin’ to Dougald, and I thought he might take her to be his mistress."

  Alenna recalled the conversation between Dougald and Tynan on the first day she’d arrived back in time. "He didn’t?"

  He shook his head, and his hair fell over his shoulders. Temptation almost lured her to reach up and brush it away from the hard planes of his rugged face. "Nay. She was gone one mornin’ when I awoke and when I found her—" He inhaled a deep, harsh breath, and her own air supply seemed suspended as she waited. "She was dead, lass. Someone had cut her in the belly."

  "Oh, Tynan," Alenna said, her throat aching with unshed tears. "How awful."

  "Aye."

  "No one tried to find out who killed her?"

  "Dougald and I tried but found nothin’ to prove who did the horrible deed. Mayhap if she had still been with the baron … he may have looked for her murderer." His gaze was hot and determined. "I did ask him, but he refused."

  "Caithleen was already with him then?"

  "Nay. Florie was dead two years before Cathleen became his mistress. She has only been his mistress a year. There was another woman during that time."

  A pause stretched like a canyon between them as Alenna took in his solemn face. Shame rolled over her in a great wave. She’d acted like a fool.

  "Why did you want to help her with her child when it wasn’t yours, and she wasn’t your wife?" she asked, certain that his answer would explain so much about him. "Many men wouldn’t."

  Tynan tenderly traced the side of her neck with his index finger. A shiver of pleasure darted l
ike a fire through her.

  "Florie was a good woman. She’d had but two lovers. The baron, and myself. She thought the baron loved her. When she told him she was havin’ his babe, he tossed her out with the rubbish."

  Another type of anger toiled within her breast. "He’s a rotten bastard."

  "Aye. But perhaps no more rotten than I."

  "What do you mean?"

  "If ye knew what I was … if ye knew what I had done in my life, ye wadna allow me to hold ye now."

  At one time she would have believed him. But she had witnessed his honor and his integrity. Certainly, he was a barbarian. A bit of a savage. But he couldn’t have done anything so bad to warrant this self-loathing.

  Tynan slipped his hands up to the cap that held her hair, pushing it off with one sweep. She reached up to trap his fingers. Trying to distract herself away from the sensuous touch, she asked, "But how could you work for him … how could you like—"

  "I dinna say I like him, lass. I pay homage to him because …"

  "Yes?"

  He closed his eyes tightly, and for a moment she wondered if the ugly bruise on his forehead hurt. The sensation of his fingers pushing through her hair, caressing the tresses like a lover might, sent her heart drumming in overtime.

  "When I tell of the horrors in this castle, I am no tellin’ ye to have my foot on yer neck. Ask me, and I will take ye wherever ye wish. I will protect ye with my life. Just dinna go about this cursed place without me."

  His heat enveloped Alenna, warming her from the inside out as his lips descended and he kissed her forehead again. She drank in his handsome if battered features and tried to control the budding tumble of emotions within her.

  "You’ll protect me with your life because you know I was sent here to save your life," she said cynically. He didn’t answer, and her heart did the inevitable tumble back to reality. "I see."

  "Nay. Ye dinna know everythin’ about me."

  She almost moved out of his arms, tired of the verbal battle, and sickened by Florie’s tragic story.

  "Why do ye look at me that way?" he asked.

  She shook her head. Giving him a mock laugh, she said, "You are a mess, Tynan of MacBrahin. Only a mother could love your face."

  A grin moved slow and silky over his lips, setting off a chain reaction in her that dissolved every nasty word, every abuse she’d wanted to hurl at his head.

  He cupped her cheek for a moment in his rough palm, stirring an immediate response deep in her belly. He anchored his other hand in her hair and gently massaged his fingers against her scalp like a caress. Her pulse pounded, and her breath quickened.

  Although all her anger didn’t drain away, her defenses felt plundered. Brought down as easily as he might have besieged a castle wall.

  "Ye are a bonnie woman, Alenna. Did I ever tell ye that?" he asked softly. His gaze went to her lips.

  "Please …" she said, moving slightly so that he dropped his hand away from her face.

  "Please what?" he said as he lowered his lips until they almost touched hers.

  "Don’t." He moved, nuzzling her ear gently with his lips. Electric tingles danced over her and she gasped. "Tynan, what will Elizabet think if she saw you like this with me?"

  He didn’t flinch, didn’t move … just kept up that maddening trace of his lips over her ear. He dipped down to her neck and pressed a lingering kiss to the pulse hammering at the base of her throat. His fingers traced over her neck where his lips had been. Suddenly he boldly cupped her breast. Alenna gasped in surprise, captured in the animal hunger she saw within him.

  His fingers traced over her breast, swept over the nipple so that tingles of exquisite pleasure darted all along her body.

  He placed a kiss to her lips, barely touching his mouth to hers … lingering … drawing her closer until Alenna allowed her lips to part. Deepening his caress, he tasted her with a hungry fervor. His tongue surged inside, thrusting with a heady rhythm. A message of primal need … a staggering, erotic sensuality pulsed through her blood.

  Alenna felt the heat of his caresses in every part of her. Her body betrayed her … her nipples stiffening, her womanhood tightening … clenching.

  Tynan released her lips.

  "Please," she murmured again, a gasp escaping her as he placed a tender kiss to her cheek and trailed toward her lips again.

  "Please not want ye so badly I ache?" he said with a husky murmur that sent her arms about his neck.

  Before she could answer, his mouth covered hers. Tynan’s lips took hers in a shimmering, delightful way that didn’t force or demand. His kiss asked. It appealed to her for comfort.

  And Lord help her, she wanted to give it to him.

  Over and over his kisses lingered like soft flutters, touching then retreating. Maddening and gentle, they drove her wild with need. Alenna lost all touch with time, all need for anything but his arms around her.

  He tore his lips from hers and buried his face in her neck, breathing hard. When he touched her breast again she gasped, aroused by the intimate caress. She welcomed his soft touch as he circled around and around her nipple, brushing lightly with his index finger. Hot waves of need moved through her in all directions. She ached with longing. She pushed up against him as she writhed with the exquisite feeling of his hands caressing her rib cage, over her waist, then traveling to her hips.

  Clutching at the thick mane of his hair, she gloried in the silky texture, enjoying the feeling of something forbidden and wanton. Then, in a move vastly bold for her … that demonstrated her arousal more than anything, Alenna pulled his head up so she could place a soft kiss on his lips.

  "Jesu, but yer a beautiful wench," he said hoarsely.

  "Don’t call me wench," she said.

  "Woman."

  "Don’t—"

  His mouth smothered hers again, his lips prying her mouth open so he could dip inside, stroking her tongue repeatedly until she moaned and moved against him in excitement. No man had ever kissed her quite this way. Not her ex-fiancé, not any man.

  A grunt of surprise from the doorway sent Alenna out of Tynan’s lap and his arms in one swift move. Embarrassed, she put several paces between herself and Tynan just as Dougald came in the room.

  Dougald bowed slightly. "I dinna think ye would still be here, Mistress. Then again, I could see ye were tendin’ his wounds."

  Another wave of mortification swept her as her insides tumbled with a combination of arousal and pain. "Dougald, did anyone ever tell you, you are a pain in the neck?"

  "Aye. Tynan tells me daily."

  "Wipe that grin from yer face," Tynan said with a growl to Dougald.

  She started toward the door. "I’ll go back to the tower."

  Tynan sprang up from his chair. "Yer not goin’ out there without me."

  Ignoring his order, she made her way gingerly down the steps. Back into the morning air, she picked up her pace. Tynan had to rush to catch her.

  "I dinna mean for that to happen," he said as he walked alongside of her.

  "For Dougald to catch us, or for you to kiss me?"

  "To take advantage of ye. It wounds yer reputation, to be caught so."

  Alenna let out a chuckle that sounded more like a snort. "Is that all you’re concerned about? My reputation? What about your reputation?" She stopped walking and turned to him.

  His smile tinged with a mingling of gravity and indulgence. "As a man, I dinna fash myself about reputation."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean that bein’ seen kissin’ ye gathers respect to me. It wadna hurt my reputation. Now, savin’ my hide twice in two days … that hurts my reputation."

  He was right. Double standard was approved here in the world of 1318. Her forehead was stamped with a big ‘W’ and no one let her forget it for a minute.

  "Are you saying your ego is hurt because I helped you?"

  "Ego?"

  "Your pride."

  " ‘Tis not yer place to fight men. ‘Tis a man’s place to
defend women and children."

  "It’s not always like that in my time."

  When she looked at him he frowned. "Ye keep speakin’ of yer world and yer time. Well, that isna how it’s done here." He stopped abruptly and grabbed her arm. "Jesu, ye really dinna ken. What would have happened to ye if I hadna come along?"

  Alenna didn’t want to admit she needed Tynan’s protection. So she stared at him stubbornly and he stared back until it became a game of who would look away first. Finally, she jerked away and stomped off.

  He followed. "I would ask ye not to speak of what I told ye. About Florie."

  She almost stumbled over a root in the ground, and he reached out to grab her arm. Shaking off his hold, she asked, "Doesn’t everyone know about Florie?"

  "Nay. Caithleen has heard the story, as well as Dougald and Elizabet."

  "That is practically everyone."

  "Nay, lass. Only those I trust."

  Warm feelings stirred in her heart. "You trust me?"

  He stopped and turned her so his hands lay on her upper arms, gripping her firmly but not cruelly. "Aye. I trust ye. Though damned if I ken why."

  In that moment she almost hugged him … almost went back into his arms to give him a sense of solace and understanding.

  She couldn’t walk a mile in his shoes, but she understood this was a man who didn’t trust often, and when he did it meant something beyond simple words. She nodded and they went on.

  What about Caithleen and Elizabet? In her heart she couldn’t deny she’d felt tremendous pleasure in his arms, but she couldn’t be with a man who toyed with other women. She picked up the pace to get as far away from him as possible. He continued to walk by her side until they reached the Black Tower.

  When they were in the tower, he remained silent while Alenna ran to the garderobe and changed. With annoyance she saw her woolen gown had been spotted by her period. She’d have to wash it pronto. She walked out of the garderobe and cursed.

  Tynan swung around to look at her. "Words like that are no lady-like."

  She ignored his chastisement. "I need water to wash this garment."

  "Ye washed it just yesterday."

  "Female problems," she grumbled.

  His grin was all knowing. "I thought ye were a bit on the hot side. Yer kiss was warm." When she glared at him he gave a laugh reminiscent of Dougald’s. "I’m sorry, lass. Do women still have ‘female problems’ in yer century? Or is that somethin’ you’ve been able to fix, too?"