The Winter Laird

by Nancy Scanlon

  Nioclas repressed his sigh and inclined his head. “That is my understanding as well. Shall we discuss the betrothal terms?”

  “Certainly. Once we know for sure she’s my daughter.”

  “You mean…” Nioclas trailed off as he realized Kiernan wasn’t certain the woman they rescued last night was his true daughter.

  “There’s only one way for us to know,” Lady O’Rourke said gently. “We must see the mark.”

  Chapter 7

  Brianagh was not one to give in to hysterics. She never was—a fact of which she was absurdly proud. When her first matched couple decided to get married and the groom was caught with not one but two bridesmaids the night before, she managed to calm the bride, cancel the wedding, and save the reputation of her business before the groom could even put his pants on.

  However, as she looked around the barren room, with its stone walls, hard floor, and prickly bed, she accepted that everyone had their limits. Bri wasn’t quite sure how to have a hysterical fit.

  The first thing on her list had to be the time travel itself. Bri couldn’t fully piece together the logistics of it—it was a sensation she never really wanted to go through again, and she hoped Reilly had a different way to get her home.

  Speaking of Reilly, he was on the list too. He wasn’t who he claimed he was, and although she was angry with him, she understood why he’d never told her about his little superpower. She would have laughed herself into a fit of tears, then teased him mercilessly for the rest of his days. But he was the only person she knew here, so she’d reserve the teasing for after they got back. She vowed she wouldn’t speak to him for a good six months¸ at least, though.

  She also didn’t know where here was—Ireland, but when? She understood the language. Gaelic was taught to all the O’Rourkes at an early age. Her aunt ensured it. Reilly had finessed her language skills by spending almost five straight years only speaking Gaelic. He knew she was curious—or stubborn—enough to learn it just so she wouldn’t miss out on what he was saying. But Bri was completely unaware as to how the language may have changed from this point in time—again, wherever this time is; the lack of knowledge was really bothering her—to her time. Modern times.

  Her list further proved she needed answers, and she needed them now.

  Unfortunately, she had no idea where her dress went, and the long white nightgown she wore resembled something she’d seen on TV about a crazy cult where the women were required to be covered from neck to toes.

  She needed some clothes.

  She flicked the covers off herself and immediately pulled them back on. The air was bitingly cold, and she was fairly certain if she dared to place her feet onto the floor, they’d stick like a tongue to cold metal.

  Her door creaked, and Bri sat up, clutching the covers to her chest. When Reilly poked his head in, she narrowed her eyes. “I have some questions for you.”

  He sighed. “I figured you did. You always have questions.” He closed the door behind him and withdrew something from his tunic. “What’s this, Brianagh?”

  Her face lit up when he tossed her purse to her. “I thought someone stole this from me!”

  Reilly gravely sat on the edge of her bed. “If I hadn’t felt it on you when we were in Dowth, you’d be in some serious straits right now. I told you in the car, nothing but the dress.”

  She unzipped the pouch and dumped the contents onto the bed. “My phone! License, credit card, cash…”

  “None of it will do you any good here.”

  She turned her phone on. “About that,” she said in what she hoped was an even voice. “Where are we?”

  His gaze never wavered. “The MacWilliam castle, in what will be County Mayo, Ireland, in the future.”

  A breath whooshed out of her before she could stop it. Collecting herself, she asked, “The date, Reilly?”

  “Sometime in November of fourteen fifty-seven.”

  Her mouth opened, then closed, then opened again, but no sound came out.

  “What are you doing?” Reilly asked curiously.

  “Well, if you’re really interested,” she said with a sniff, “I’m attempting to go into hysterics.”

  “How’s it going?”

  “Not well,” she grumbled, flopping back on the straw mattress. “I don’t think I’m capable.”

  He cleared his throat. “Well, if you’re done with that, give me your things and I’ll lock them in my trunk. If anyone discovers you with them, you’ll be burned at the stake for witchcraft. If anyone finds them on me, I can get away easily. I’ve brought you a maid,” he suddenly remembered. “She has clothes and will help you dress and do all kinds of, um, womanly things.”

  Brianagh slanted a glance at him as she gathered her things, then handed them back to him. “Define womanly things.”

  “Jesus, I don’t know, Bri. Your hair and shoes and lacings and stuff.” He fidgeted uncomfortably for a moment. “You and I can talk more once you’re properly dressed. I want to speak with you before…um…” He coughed. “Before Kathryne.”

  “Who’s Kathryne?” Bri asked as a young woman popped into her room, arms laden with clothing, ribbons, and shoes.

  Reilly coughed. “Your birthmother. See you in a bit,” he said as he shut the door behind him.

  Brianagh couldn’t have responded even if he had stayed. She was speechless.

  • • •

  Brianagh smoothed the skirts of her dress and tried not to fiddle with whatever it was Darby, her thirteen-year-old maid, did to her hair.

  It was rather alarming how the girl simply walked over, stripped Bri naked before she knew what was happening, then just as quickly tugged a soft, warm dress over her. With an authority Bri had never seen in any teenager before, Darby sat her on a stool near the fire, opened a wooden box that had been somewhere in the pile of clothing she’d carried in, and proceeded to wrangle Brianagh’s hair into a fashion “befitting her station.”

  She gently touched her thick, dark hair. She had a feeling it was brushed to a gloss a shampoo model would envy. It was pinned back on the sides and cascaded over her shoulders in perfectly behaved waves. Darby used gray ribbons to match her dress. The dress was simple but soft. Bri wondered what it was made from; tags didn’t seem to exist yet.

  Darby wasn’t one for talking much—she seemed a doer more than a talker. Bri wasn’t up for talking much either. She was just grateful the girl was efficient and had the room back to its bare bones in record time.

  “I see the chamber pot is empty,” Darby noted.

  Bri glanced with alarm at the large pot on the floor by her bed. She hadn’t even noticed it, much less thought about using it. The thought of it was enough to make her feel ill; she didn’t want anyone emptying anything out of her window.

  She made a mental note to keep an eye to the sky when she went outdoors.

  Darby finished putting the hair accessories back into the wooden box. “We have garderobes in this castle, my lady, if you prefer those. They’re marvelous things; they empty right into the moat, and the water carries everything right out to the fields in an underground trench. You know it’s good for the crops, aye? Truly, the laird is brilliant for thinking of such things.”

  Bri managed a smile, and as Darby left, Reilly walked in and nodded his approval.

  Brianagh swallowed. “The castle has garderobes.”

  He blinked. “Many do.”

  She nodded, biting the inside of her lip. “Tell me again who you are.”

  He closed his eyes as if in pain. “Reilly O’Malley, O’Rourke protector.” His eyes opened and searched hers. “But I’m still the same Reilly you’ve known your entire life.”

  Unwilling to discuss that, she folded her hands in front of her. “Final question. Why on Earth did you bring me here?”

  He shot her an incredulous look, but she waited silently for his answer. After a moment, he realized she was serious. He sighed. “Because, Brianagh, you are the chosen O’Rourke daughter who
is the first in our line of time-travelers. You were given to me right after you were born, and I took you to the future, to Evelyn and Connor.”

  “Do they know who I am?” she asked.

  His eyes shifted to a spot on the wall somewhere behind her left shoulder. “I believe so.”

  All the air left her. She couldn’t believe she’d been deceived by everyone around her since her infancy.

  “We couldn’t tell you, Brianagh. The Fates decided long ago, before you and me, that you couldn’t know until the proper time. For generations, the O’Rourkes held this secret. When your aunt realized she was the one charged with your upbringing, she knew the stakes. If she told you, the threat of what you might do would alter history.”

  “Like what?” Brianagh exclaimed, angry. “Do you think I would jump off a bridge because my family thought I was some sort of fantastical legacy-holder? Maybe try to go back in time myself?”

  She paused. Damn. That’s exactly what she would have done, if for no other reason than to prove their insane story false.

  “You know you would have,” Reilly said, crossing his arms. “While it was my job to protect you, it was Evelyn’s to raise you.”

  “This is unbelievable,” Brianagh whispered. It was no use trying to deny any of it; she stood in the middle of a castle, lived through a medieval dungeon of sorts, and watched the man in front of her kill to protect her. “I want to go home.”

  “You are home,” he replied gently.

  “No!” she snapped. “No, home is where my life is. My business, for God—”

  “You really want to discuss your business? Colin has it in hand. You’ve spent a lot of time training him for this.”

  “Colin? He’s not ready to take over an entire business!” she nearly shrieked, her self-control slipping another notch. “He can’t even find himself a date that sticks around for more than a week!”

  Reilly grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her once, hard. “Brianagh, that isn’t your destiny! Your destiny is here, to have children and to pass on the ability to time-travel—”

  “You don’t have a say in my destiny!” she cried, wrenching from his grasp.

  They stared silently at each other, her chest heaving, his arms folded.

  Finally, she spoke in a low voice. “You’re telling me that I am responsible for an entire line of O’Rourkes, and that if I don’t start having these magical kids, that line will simply cease to exist?” He took a step toward her, but she threw out her arms. “That’s a hell of a lot of pressure you didn’t bother to prepare me for!”

  “If you do not do this today, history will be changed in ways even I can’t comprehend,” Reilly replied, his voice haunted.

  “Wait—do what today?” Brianagh suddenly felt ill-at-ease. She rubbed her arms to ward off the chill that stole over her.

  Reilly dropped his head. “Marry the MacWilliam.”

  She cocked her head to the side. “I’m sorry. Come again?”

  • • •

  “My lady?” A servant stood at the doorway, looking as if she wished she were somewhere else. “You’ve been requested to join the laird and company in his solar to break your fast.”

  Brianagh looked at Reilly, panic flaring in her chest. She’d never felt more like running, but she was trapped. She had no idea how to get home, nor even where was safe within the walls of the castle.

  “Relax,” he said immediately, sensing her urge to flee. “You will be fine. A solar is just the laird’s private room, where he conducts most of his business. Your birth mother and father expect nothing from you—”

  “Except for me to marry a stranger,” she cut in angrily.

  “Your brothers will not be there, though they are in the castle.”

  “I have brothers?”

  “Aye. Two. They, alongside your father, MacWilliam, and I, helped rescue you.” Reilly led her down the hall, then down another. As they walked, he told her of the battle and of her brothers.

  Reilly stopped outside a door that looked like all other doors, but this one gave Brianagh a terrifying sense of déjà vu.

  “Chin up,” Reilly murmured. “I will bring you in, but if asked to leave, I must. This isn’t part of my journey, but I won’t be far, Bri.”

  “Reilly, I’m not the girl in this legacy,” Bri said desperately. “You’re bringing me to people who think I’m their long-lost daughter, and I’m not. I’m just a girl from Boston, looking to get back.”

  Reilly put his arm around her and rubbed her shoulders in support. “Bri, I’ve known you your entire life. I’ve known you because the woman behind this door placed you into my hands when you were a babe. I held you and carried you and kept you safe.”

  “This isn’t fair,” she said, fighting the sting of tears. “You claim that you gave me a life, and now you’ve taken it away, as if you own me.”

  “I don’t own you, Bri. The Fates do. You must understand, if I didn’t do my part, I would be erasing thousands of people from history. Your descendants…myself included.”

  Her mind balked at the enormity of that, and she grabbed his arm. “One more question.”

  He smiled down at her, his eyes twinkling. “Unsurprising.”

  “When are you from?”

  The amusement fled his eyes, and he gave her a self-deprecating smile. “Brianagh, there isn’t enough time in the day for me to answer that. Let’s just say that I’m from all time.” He knocked on the door. “Good luck. I won’t be far.”

  “Come in, lass. O’Malley, make yourself useful in the lists.”

  Reilly winked at her, then walked down the hallway. She stepped into the room and closed the door. The soft sound of a latch echoed.

  “Brianagh.” A woman stood, clasping her hands in front of her. Bri studied the woman’s face; they had the same blue eyes. The sunlight filtered through the window at the far end of the room brightly enough so Brianagh could see they were both brunettes, but that’s where the physical similarities ended.

  “Yes,” she said cautiously. Despite Reilly’s insistence that all these people were here to protect her, she couldn’t fully believe it. Aside from the fact that they didn’t know her from a hole in the wall, he claimed they were trying to marry her off—as if they could do such a thing.

  Ridiculous.

  “I’m Kathryne. Your mother. And this is Kiernan, my husband, your sire. I am grateful you’ve returned to us.” She walked over to Bri and clasped her hands in her own, searching her face. “You are well?”

  Well, this was awkward. Bri bit her lip. “Um, yes. I’m well. I’d feel more comfortable if Reilly returned, though.”

  “I understand. He is the only one who knows you, aye?” Kathryne continued. “This must be so sudden for you. Come, eat. I know you were held below the stables. Were you fed?”

  Brianagh shook her head, sitting down on a proffered stool. “I did eat last night after I returned.”

  “Well, at least Nioclas’s servants are doing something to earn their keep.” One of the men grinned at her, his green eyes flashing with good humor. “Aidan MacWilliam,” he said with a bow. “Brother to the laird over there. Known throughout the land as the better-looking one, as well.”

  She smiled at Aidan.

  Her eyes fell on the commanding figure who had halted his pacing and now stared at her.

  A shiver of awareness passed through her. Bri felt naked under his intense gaze. His eyes raked her from top to bottom, appraising her, then slowly reassessed. His leisurely perusal heated her in ways she’d never before felt. She felt the blush begin on her neck. His eyes met hers, and she sucked in a breath as desire lanced through her.

  Wholly inappropriate! she chided herself. Then, as she remembered him in a particularly compromising position during one of her more recent dreams, she blushed furiously. Get a grip! She couldn’t help but sneak another look at his perfectly carved face, though.

  He was smirking at her, as if he could read her thoughts. She narrowed her eyes
. Whatever game he was playing, she was sure she didn’t want any part in it.

  Nioclas spoke. “We asked you here because Lady O’Rourke thought it wise for you, being of advanced age, to listen to the betrothal agreement we’ve set.”

  Brianagh choked. “Advanced age?”

  “Aye. You are nine-and-twenty, are you not?”

  “That’s not advanced age!”

  He ignored her and turned to Kiernan. “Recite her dowry, O’Rourke.”

  As Kiernan listed off a whole bunch of animals, gold coins, and other nonsense, Brianagh’s jaw slid farther and farther south.

  She was being sold?

  “Um, excuse me,” she tried, but neither man heard her. “Hey. HEY!”

  All eyes landed on her, expressions ranging from surprised, amused, slightly taken aback, and completely void of expression. She got the feeling Nioclas MacWilliam was a master of the poker face.

  “What happens if I don’t agree to this wedding?” she asked, rather bravely, in her opinion.

  Kiernan’s eyebrows nearly shot off his head. “Why wouldn’t you?”

  Too many reasons, she thought. “Well, for starters, I really don’t think I am who you think I am.”

  Kathryne smiled gently at her. “Easily proven.”

  Oh, now that was interesting. “How?”

  “Well, you’ll have the mark,” Kathryne explained. “The Fates promised to leave an unmistakable marking on the chosen O’Rourke daughter.”

  “I don’t have any marks,” Brianagh replied with an apologetic shrug, but inside, she was dancing an Irish reel. “Sorry. I should probably get going, so you can find the woman you’re looking for…” Her voice trailed off as Kathryne shook her head.

  “No, you must have the mark.” She gestured. “It should be somewhere on your arm.”

  Bri sighed. “I haven’t anything there but a small scar. But I wasn’t born with it. I tripped on some rocks when I was a child. I remember it well.”

  “Ah, but I didn’t say you’d be born with it.” Kathryne turned to Nioclas and Kiernan. “Perhaps we ought to tell her what we’re looking for before she shows us.”