GUNNER: MC ROMANCE (Forsaken Riders MC Romance Book 4)

by Samantha Leal

  She turned back and called to the driver, “There’s something here,” she shouted. “Can you help me?”

  The driver looked around uneasily before shaking his head in defeat and crossing over the gravel to meet her.

  “What is it?” he asked, looking up at the sky. The sun was almost set and the air was getting cooler with each passing minute.

  “I think there’s an animal in there,” she whispered, “and I think it may be hurt.”

  The driver shifted uneasily on the spot and shrugged.

  “Please?” Moira asked him with pleading eyes.

  With reluctance, they both pushed open the door to the castle and stepped carefully into the entryway. The driver didn’t want to be there, that she could tell, but she stepped forward and shone the light into the corner by the wall and waited for him to react.

  “Aye, looks like an animal,” he said matter-of-factly. “Now what?”

  Moira realized he wasn’t going to be any use to her, so she rolled her eyes and stepped cautiously forward. As long as he was right there behind her, she felt safer than being in there alone. She approached the mound of black fur slowly, but as she got closer, she could see that there was no movement to suggest it was breathing. On the floor there was a broken tree branch which she picked up and used to prod it gently.

  The moment she touched it, she knew that it was neither an animal nor alive, and her shoulders relaxed as she exhaled with relief.

  “What is it?” he asked her.

  “I think it’s an animal skin,” she said as she prodded it again and managed to flip over the thick fur.

  “A pelt?” he asked as he moved closer.

  “Yes,” she bent down and pulled it towards her. It was a thick black furred wolf pelt.

  “A black wolf,” the man nodded, “Rare.”

  Moira shook it out and then bundled it up in her arms.

  “My first Scottish souvenir,” she smiled as she made her way back to the door.

  “Are you sure you want that?” the driver asked cautiously.

  “Yep,” she said, “I’ll give it a wash and a clean-up and it’ll be a great memento of my first day here.”

  The wolf pelt was soft and heavy in her arms and even though she knew she shouldn’t be taking it, she just couldn’t help herself.

  “Suit yourself,” he laughed as they both walked back through the doorway and towards the car. The sky had grown dark and bats squeaked as they flitted around the trees overhead. As Moira sank back into the seat, she felt oddly connected with her surroundings and the pelt. She didn’t know why, but she felt strangely protective over it and she never wanted to let it go.

  4.

  As the taxi pulled away, Moira entered the quaint bed and breakfast where she was booked for her first few nights in Scotland. She hadn’t had any idea what to expect from Lennoxtown, so she had planned to move on to other areas after she had explored the land of her ancestors.

  After the little old lady at reception gave her the key to her room, Moira tightly clutched onto the pelt as she made her way up the stairs, dragging her heavy luggage behind her.

  The room was basic but large, and she went straight into the bathroom and ran the big marble sink full of warm, soapy water. The pelt was so beautiful and soft, she had no idea how it had ended up lying on the floor of the derelict castle but she wanted to revive it as much as she could and take care of it. She put it into the sink and let the water seep into it, and then rubbed and massaged until all of the dust and bits of dirt and crumbling stone seemed to have come loose. Afterwards she rinsed it under the shower and rung it out before plugging in the hair dryer and carefully drying it while running a thick comb through the soft fur. She felt so much affection for it, but she couldn’t figure out why.

  Once the pelt had been groomed and was silky smooth and shining, she lay it out across the end of her bed and looked at the clock. It was almost 10:00 pm, and she hadn’t even eaten or unpacked her bags. Her body ached and her mind was swimming with possibility and information. She wanted to unpack, but she also wanted to explore. She opened the small menu at the side of the bed which told her that breakfast would be served between 7:30 am and 9:30 am the following morning. It was a long time to wait, but she would have to stick it out.

  After she hung up the clothes she didn’t want to get too creased, she got into her pajamas and lay down on the bed before turning on the television. She smiled as the array of English and Scottish accents came flying at her, and when the temperature dropped and she found herself chilly, she pulled the wolf pelt up from the foot of the bed and wrapped herself in it. The faint scent of strawberry shower gel still lurked among the soft fur.

  As she watched the local news, her eyes grew heavy and the warmth from the pelt was keeping her so comfy in her little cocoon it wasn’t long before she drifted off soundly to sleep.

  5.

  The cold bit her skin as she stirred the following morning. The air was icy and she shivered beneath the wolf pelt as she clutched it to her and nuzzled into it, pulling it close and breathing in deep. She hadn’t yet opened her eyes, but she could tell something was different. It wasn’t just the temperature in her room, but the smell and sounds around her and the breeze blasting her ankles. She shivered and pulled the pelt around her again, almost nervous to acknowledge that something was wrong and someone could potentially be in the room with her. She rubbed her eyes and slowly opened them. The shock hit her all at once, and she jumped up, flying back against the headboard, which was hard as stone.

  Moira was no longer in the adorably old-fashioned bed and breakfast, but in a large stone room that looked like it could have been something out of a strange movie. Something not from her time at all. She looked down and the pelt was the only thing she recognized. Even her clothes had gone and she was wearing a long, raggy brown robe. She hugged her knees to her chest and got to her feet. When they touched the stone floor, the icy cold shot up her legs and made her tremble.

  “Where am I?” she said aloud as she rushed to the window.

  When she looked out, she could tell that she was in some sort of castle structure, and she was very high up from the ground. She was still in Scotland by the looks of things and from the view from her bed chamber, she could see the rolling hills and a lovely blue loch in the distance. The sun was shining, making the landscape look so beautiful and peaceful, but it was so cold, she shivered and was gripped with fear.

  “Kincaid Tower,” a gruff voice came from behind her. She turned to see a small woman standing in front of her. She was haggard and old, but her eyes were warm and welcoming.

  “What?” Moira asked.

  The woman laughed and shook her head before approaching her with a long and elaborately stitched green dress.

  “Here,” she said. “You look cold.”

  “It’s freezing,” Moira complained. “Who are you and what happened to the bed and breakfast?”

  The little woman looked at her as if she were crazy and shrugged.

  “You’ll have to get dressed quickly, lassie. Sir Hamish is on his way to see you.”

  “Who?” Moira protested as the woman pulled the dress down over her head and began to lace her in at the back.

  “Sir Hamish,” she laughed at her. “Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of him.”

  “Well to be honest…” She was about to launch into a long rant about how she actually hadn’t ever heard of him and that also she was completely confused as to what the hell was going on, but before she could finish her sentence, the door to the bed chamber burst open and a tall, hulking, red-haired man stood in front of her. His arms were thick and veiny, and he wore armor over his massive frame. Moira swallowed with shock as she looked up at him and realized that she did know him, and had indeed seem him before.

  The man in front of her was no stranger...

  He was the one who had seduced her in her dream.

  ***

  “Moira?” he asked as he stepped forward
and looked at her as if he was unsure that she was real.

  “Yes?” She took a step back, afraid of what may happen.

  “It really is you.” His face relaxed and opened warmly. “My God, I never thought we would see each other again.”

  Moira looked at him with confusion in her eyes and the little woman came beside her and wrapped a protective arm around her before pushing her forwards.

  “What’s going on?” Moira asked.

  “You came back,” Hamish smiled. “I thought I’d lost you forever, but you came back.”

  She didn’t know what to say or where to look… Was this some kind of elaborate joke? Had the taxi driver and the woman from the bed and breakfast set the whole thing up? Or worse, was Jack Tranter somehow involved?

  “Elizabeth,” Hamish said proudly, “we must show our guest nothing but kindness, please, and make sure she wants for nothing.”

  The little lady smiled and bowed daintily, and Hamish stepped closer again so he was almost right up against Moira.

  “I am so happy to see you again,” he reached out and touched her cheek. “I really had thought that I’d lost you.”

  As Moira looked in his eyes, something stirred in her. The dream was one thing and was fresh and vivid in her mind, but there was something within Hamish that was more than familiar… They had been tied together before, she was sure of it. There was a love running between them, ancient and unbreakable, and it made her quiver.

  “I’ll be back for you.” He touched her hair softly before he turned and made his way towards the door. “Elizabeth, feed our guest and make sure she is safe.”

  The little lady nodded and Hamish left the room with a loud slam of the door.

  6.

  “Please, Elizabeth,” Moira pleaded. “I don’t understand. You must tell me what is happening!”

  The little lady had constructed an impressive fire in the hearth and was stoking it with an iron rod. Moira was sitting on the end of the bed, her bare feet lightly skimming the cold stones of the floor.

  Elizabeth turned to her and sat down in a chair by the fire before sighing and rubbing her temples.

  “Moira,” she said slowly, “you really don’t remember?”

  Moira shook her head with frustration and got to her feet, crossing the room and sitting in the chair opposite Elizabeth so the two women were either side of the fire. The orange glow from the flames shone brightly over both their faces, and Moira was so glad of the warmth as it spread through her chilled bones.

  “You and Hamish were so in love,” she began. “And then one day you simply vanished… No one in all of Scotland could find you, and God knows we tried.” She stopped and let out a little laugh of sadness. “Hamish was always the one leading the pack, desperate to track you down, to find out who had taken you and what had become of you… But after years and years, he had to let go… It pained him to do it, it really did, but he is Sir Hamish Kincaid, and he was betrothed to marry another. The Kincaids have always married well to advance their position up here in these parts, and the Lord and Lady would not allow an exception. With you gone, they arranged for Hamish to wed Lady Fraser, much to his annoyance.”

  Moira listened with intrigue, although she was certain the story she was hearing had nothing to do with her.

  “But now you’ve returned,” Elizabeth said with a wry smile. “And now Hamish will not marry Lady Fraser.”

  “Wait,” Moira interjected. “So how long have I been gone?” She believed she was humoring the old woman for information.

  “Around three years,” she said, “And Hamish tried to find you… But eventually he had to admit you were never coming back.”

  “So he hasn’t already married?” Moira chipped in.

  “The wedding was fixed for tomorrow,” she explained. “But now he wants to dissolve the arrangement.”

  Moira’s heart started to beat fast. This man, Sir Hamish Kincaid of the Kincaid Clan, wanted to call off his wedding because of her?

  “There must be a misunderstanding,” Moira laughed. “I only arrived her from the United Stated yesterday… I went up to Lennox Castle to see where my ancestors had supposedly originated and then I checked into the bread and breakfast… That’s the last I remember.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes were wide, but Moira couldn’t tell whether it was from fear or sympathy.

  “I better get you something to eat, lassie,” she said as she got to her feet.

  When Elizabeth left her alone in the room, Moira went back to the window and looked out across the hills. She couldn’t see anything for miles; the whole landscape was clear and untouched. She hadn’t seen much of Lennoxtown the night before, but she knew it was a developed area with a thriving community. There was a familiarity to where she was, but it was as if the whole town and castle had been cleared overnight and only the tower remained in its place. She looked back across the bleak bedroom. The bed was large and soft with layer upon layer of sheets and woven blankets. The wolf pelt was there in the center, looking even more glossy and new than it had after she cleaned it. The bed was a four-poster with thick, velvet drapes, and the fire in the corner of the room was the only source of light save for one small unlit candle next to the bed. There was no electricity and there was nothing to suggest that Moira was in her own time. Even Elizabeth’s dress and the one she had given to Moira to wear were odd and not of the same world.

  The door creaked open and Elizabeth entered with a silver tray holding a whole cooked chicken and a strange cup filled with warm wine.

  “Here you go, lassie,” she said as she set it down by the fire. “You need to eat and keep up your strength. You don’t want the Lord and Lady to accuse you of madness.”

  The smell of the roast chicken almost sent her into a frenzy, and she descended on the plate as if it were the first time she had ever eaten.

  After she finished, she glugged down the wine and relaxed into the chair by the warm fire. She felt instantly rested and revived and ready to hear anything Elizabeth had to tell her. She didn’t want to appear crazy in case it would backfire on her, so she pretended to agree with all that Elizabeth was saying to glean more information.

  It was a strange thing, but the more time passed in that bed chamber, the more Moira felt at home. It was as if she had unlocked a secret door in her memory and all of the details were flooding back to her with each passing second. Even Elizabeth was becoming more familiar, and small snippets of memory were working their way back out of her subconscious. She remembered a day when she and Elizabeth went hunting and afterwards Elizabeth had bathed her sore and tired feet by the very same fire. Moira’s heart began to race with the realization that she had been there before and that both Hamish and Elizabeth were part of her past.

  “What year is this?” she asked Elizabeth as if it were the most natural question in the world.

  “Why it is 1581, my dear,” she smiled warmly. “Don’t tell me that from all your time away you’ve forgotten such important matters.”

  Moira felt her blood run cold.

  1581.

  How could this be? How could she have traveled back in time almost four hundred and fifty years?

  She was about to jump to her feet and scream when she heard the drum of footsteps coming hurriedly down the hall. She curled up on the chair and bit her lip as the door flew open and Sir Hamish came inside with a look of panic on his face.

  “We have to hide you,” he said quickly. “The Frasers are coming to storm the castle!”

  7.

  Hamish swept Moira up into his arms and burst out of the bed chamber and began running down the darkened hallway. She clung to his neck and closed her eyes tight. She was so afraid.

  Elizabeth trotted quickly behind them, carrying the wolf pelt in her arms and struggling to keep up with Hamish’s massive strides.

  “We need to get to the top of the tower,” Hamish grunted as he heaved open a heavy wooden door and started up a spiral staircase. The stone steps weaved around t
he turret, and every time Moira looked down, her stomach dipped with fear. At the top of the staircase, Hamish kicked open the door and rushed her inside. He placed her gently on the floor and turned to Elizabeth who struggled to make it up there with them.

  “No one must enter here,” he said seriously. “The Frasers want a war… I’m going to give them a war.”

  “Sir Hamish,” Elizabeth began. “Please!”

  “No!” he snapped. “I will not marry her! Not now that Moira has returned! She is my one and only true love!”

  His words sent shock waves through Moira, and she clutched her heart as if Cupid himself had speared it with one of his arrows. She loved him too—she didn’t know how it was possible, but she did. Just being held in his arms had brought back the rush of a memory. The dream she experienced on the plane, she began to realize, had not been a dream at all. It had been a memory. She and Hamish had run through the fields, over the hills, and they had rolled in the heather and kissed down the long, winding castle corridors. He had made love to her for hours and told her he would never leave her. They had planned a family. They had wanted it all so badly and then suddenly something terrible had happened. The more Moira searched her memory, the more that came flooding back to her. And it was with an intense shock, one that shook her to her very core that she suddenly remembered what had happened to her and why she vanished one day without a word to anyone.

  “Hamish,” she said, breaking the tension with her soft voice. “I remember… I remember what happened to me…”

  He turned and stared at her deep in the eyes and took her hands in his.