“Are ye a thief, young waif?” His beautiful, pale blue, eyes bore into hers. Flustered beyond belief, she at first failed to realize that he had spoken to her in Gaelic.
But as fear was replaced by anger, she came to her senses. She answered him in the Irish. She was amazed that under the circumstances that she could recall the words at all. “Lig amach mé!”
He seemed stunned by her response and she wondered if she had misunderstood. Maybe he hadn’t spoken in Gaelic. She repeated just as forcefully in English, “I said, unhand me.”
Dougray eyed her with suspicion. He had thought that he was looking at a young boy; the hair was cut so short but that voice was definitely feminine. To make sure he reached out and grabbed at her chest. She was so swift that he didn’t even see it coming. Before he knew it, she had sent a powerful blow
to his jaw. He fell back, hitting his head once more on the hard rocks, blackness engulfing him.
“What are you doing?” Connor had come down the embankment to see her plow the guy.
She stood up with disgust. “He grabbed me.” She pointed at the man accusingly.
“Grabbed you?” Connor moved forward to look at the unconscious man. “Yes. He’s obviously a pervert or something.”
“Looks like he was headed to a party. Look how he’s dressed.” He bent down and picked up the sword. “Wow, this thing is heavy.”
Just then their parents appeared. “There you are.” Her mother threw her arms around Aislinn as though she had thought to never see her again. Aislinn looked at her father who seemed just as uneasy. Before she could say anything, Francine let go of her and went over to where the man was sprawled out on the ground. “Is he…is he….”
“No, Mom. He’s quite alive.” The terseness in Aislinn voice caused her mother to look at her questionably. Aislinn shrugged. “We had somewhat of
a limited conversation.”
“And then he passed out again?” she asked.
“Not exactly.” Connor swung the sword around.
“Let me take a look at that.” Donagh came forward admiring the weapon. “Boys.” Francine shook her head. “We have a man down.”
“I thought A.J. said he spoke,” Donagh said as he swung the sword. “Well balanced.” He swung it again.
“Yeah, that is until she knocked him out cold again,” Connor was good enough to inform everyone.
“What?” Both her parents looked at her.
“Well he….” It did seem awful that she punched the man when he was obviously hurt. When he spoke to her, he didn’t even make any sense. “Oh forget it.” She bent down again to look at the guy. “God, look at how he’s dressed.” He was attractive even in the ridiculous garb making her stomach do flip-flops. She leaned forward to make sure he was still breathing. She closed her eyes as she put her hand on his chest, warmth radiating up her arm. “He smells so….” She was about to say wonderfully male. Her eyes shot open to find her family looking at her as if she had lost her mind. Physically shaken by her reaction to the stranger, she cleared her throat. “I don’t think he’s bathed in a while.” She jumped to her feet moving a safe distance away.
Her father gave Connor the sword so that he could take a look.
“I think it’s his head,” Aislinn offered. “He wasn’t making much sense when he was conscious. He called me a waif or something of the sort, and in Gaelic if you can believe that.”
Donagh and Francine exchanged a quick look. “I’m calling for help,” her mother announced as she pulled out her cell phone. “Do they have 911 here?” “Get an operator. They’ll connect you.” Connor stood by his mother.
Francine tried, but the phone kept blinking off. “I thought you charged this thing.” She looked to Donagh.
“I did.” Her husband looked up.
“Well it’s dead now.” She flipped the lid down. She became aware of her surroundings then and not liking it one bit. “The mist, Donagh.”
He just nodded as though in agreement of whatever she had meant by the mist. “Let’s try carrying him to the car.”
“Should we move him, Pop?” Aislinn was concerned that they could end up doing more harm than good, but of course her punching him hadn’t been much help.
“No broken bones that I can tell. Better to get him to a hospital, than to leave him out here in the damp air.” He looked up at his son. “Think you can help me?”
“Sure.” He handed the sword to his mother.
“What in the world would the man need this for?” Aislinn asked and her mother flinched at the question. She was acting quite peculiar as she nervously looked around her, like she expected someone or something to jump out at her.
“I don’t know,” she finally answered as her daughter took the weapon from her.
“Looks authentic, doesn’t it? It’s heavy.”
“He must be part of the theatrical group or something.” Her mother
seemed too eager to explain.
“Mom, there’s nothing out here.”
Donagh and Connor had started the process of moving the unconscious man. “How can you be sure?” Connor spoke up with a hint of sarcasm. “I can’t see more than a few feet in front of me. As far as we can tell, there could be a castle beyond the mist.” They started up the incline, Aislinn and her mother right behind them.
“I read the map, Connor,”Aislinn insisted. “There isn’t anything around here for miles.”
“Maybe we took a wrong turn.” Connor was still fishing for a logical explanation.
“I know that I didn’t.” They made it to the road and there the fog had vanished as if a curtain had lifted and now they were center stage. “How very odd.” Aislinn looked over her shoulder to where the sea of mist was so dense that she couldn’t see through it. She was about to turn away but she heard something that sounded like horses, and clanging of metal. She started to go back and investigate.
“A.J., are you coming or what?” Her brother had taken the driver seat and had leaned out the window wondering what was taking her so long to get into the car.
“Coming,” she called back, hesitating for a second trying to listen for the strange sounds she had heard, but she couldn’t detect anything other than the purr of the car engine.
Chapter 7
Dougray had been awake for some time now, but he was playing it safe, trying to get his bearings before he made this fact known. Was he in the custody of friend or foe?
“I know that you are awake,” a rather sultry voice with an edge of sarcasm lacing it had spoken. He knew it was no use continuing with the charade, and opened his eyes to view his captor. She stood there before him with her arms folded across her chest. It was the girl or rather woman that he had gravely mistaken for a young lad. He felt quite silly over that assumption now, for if
he had looked passed the garments and the short-cropped hair, there was no mistaking the feminine features. She was quite alarmingly striking with her dark hair the color of midnight and her eyes…. Never had he seen eyes so dark, and they were framed with such thick sooty lashes. They were simply beautiful even with the accusing flash of anger within their depths.
He lifted his hand and felt the side of his jaw. It felt like he had been hit with the end of a battle-ax. “Are ye going to be taking a swing at me again?” She heard the glimmer of amusement and she lost some of her hostility.
“That depends.”
His brows lifted. “Depends?”
“Yes, on if you are going to manhandle me.”
“Aye.” He sighed but not completely with regret. He saw her eyes flash with anger again, and he was quick to rectify the slight. There was no need to antagonize this woman when he still was not sure if he was a captive. She was speaking to him in his native tongue but he recognized a slight difference in the dialect indicating it was not her first language. “I apologize. I didn’t realize that ye were a lady, that was only dressed in a man’s attire.” Eccentric attire at that, he thought to himself.
Aisl
inn was puzzled for she was just wearing a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, nothing out of the ordinary. “Do you remember what happened to you?”
“Not really. It seems that a few things do not fit well. I do not recognize ye. Are ye with the Butler clan?” He was still wondering why he knew the name when she answered.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know any Butlers.”
He sat up a little. “Are you friend or foe?” Where was his sword?
Furthermore where were his clothes? He was wearing some kind of thin material that barely covered him.
She realized that she was being rude. The man had every right to be suspicious of her. She immediately tried to put him at ease. “I guess, friend.” She came forward then to stand beside the bed. “My father changed you so that we could have your clothing laundered.”
“Ye should not have bothered.”
“They needed it,” she said a little too hastily. She took a deep breath before she started in again. “They were covered in mud. You know from your fall.”
“The fall?” He tried to recall what had happened but everything seemed a little hazy.
“Yes. Don’t you remember?”
There was something that seemed rather important or so he thought. It nagged at the edge of his memory, but then it was gone.
“What is your name?” she asked hoping to find the identity of the man she had run off the road, so that they could contact his family.
His eyebrows knitted together. Something so simple as his name was eluding him at the moment. “I’m not sure.”
Just then another woman entered the room. “How’s our patient…oh, he’s up.” As the woman approached, Dougray realized that she was older than the other one that stood watch over him. She was still very attractive. The only telltale signs of age were the slight lines around her large brown eyes. She was slim, petite really, and when she smiled he could see that she still had all her teeth. That was miraculous indeed for he had seen many older women in England that…England. He had been in England to study. Yes, he remembered that.
“My name is Francine Hennessy.” She extended her hand to him. “And you are?”
He stared for a second at the woman’s opened palm that was extended toward him. He took hold of it and turned it slightly so that he could place a light kiss on the top, befitting of what a lady should expect. She withdrew her hand and he read the surprise there before she could conceal it. What had she expected him to do with her hand? “Milady, I fear that ye have me at a disadvantage. I cannot recall my name, nor do I remember meeting ye or….” He looked at the tall dark woman that was eyeing him closely as if she feared he might attack. “How did I come to be in yer company?” He looked at the older woman again, feeling she would be the easier of the two to deal with.
“We found you on the side of the road. We would have brought you home but we didn’t know where you lived.” They had all agreed for now to not say anything about nearly running him down unless the man brought it up. “You didn’t have any identification on your person.”
“Ye do not know me then?”
Francine shook her head. “No. We were hoping that you could tell us.” He ran his hand through his dark hair, his eyes darting from one woman to
the other. He didn’t sense that he was in any danger, but something seemed to unsettle him. The strange clothes for one and the room, the bed, his whole surroundings seemed odd and out of place.
“Maybe seeing something that is yours will help.” Francine pulled the amulet out of her pocket and handed it to him. “You were wearing this.” He took the piece from her and turned it around in his hand, rubbing the smooth amber. The spiral lines looked oddly familiar, maybe even important, but he didn’t know why.
“You were dressed like you were going to a costume party,” the younger woman offered making him look at her.
“How so?”
“You were wearing garments that were of another century, royalty or something, and you had a sword with you. Does this help you in any way?” Aislinn waited for him to answer.
“Sword?” He closed his eyes trying to recall something, anything. His name was at the tip of his tongue. “My name…Doug…Dougray.” His eyes flew open and his face eased with relief that he had remembered something.
The tall woman spoke again, “Doug. That’s your name?”
He was about to correct her when the door flew opened and this time two men came bursting in. They both started talking at once and the women joined
in making it impossible for him to make heads or tails of the conversation, that was obviously now conducted in some form of English. Finally the older
of the men came forward to eye him closely. He was a large man with bulging muscles that were evident beneath his shirt. His unwavering gaze and his stance that bordered on defiance made Dougray take note that this man would
be a dangerous opponent if he were an enemy. “So, young man, yer name is Doug Gray.” His Irish was impeccable, but the way he said his name, it didn’t sound quite right.
“Aye,” he answered slowly. Again he wondered who these people were. He understood them, but still their speech was foreign to him. They were not from his region. This made him pause for how did he know that?
The older man rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Ye don’t know where ye
live?”
“I am not sure. The blow to my head has me disoriented. Could I trouble ye to bring me back from whence ye first found me? Maybe then my memory will return.”
“That would probably be a good idea, and soon as ye are up to it, we will do so.” The older man agreed. “My name is Donagh Hennessy.” He extended his hand to the young stranger. “Ye met my daughter, A.J.” He motioned behind him toward the tall woman with the dark eyes. So that was her name. An odd name for a woman, he thought before he listened to the rest of the introductions. “My wife, Francine.” The older woman came forward with a smile on her face, but there was a sympathetic expression bordering her eyes. “And my son, Connor,” Donagh finished.
The younger man eyed him closely, his hand stashed in his pockets. He finally nodded his head toward him with a quick jerk. “Hey.”
Dougray could only assume that this was a greeting of some sort. “I am in yer debt for coming to my rescue.” He didn’t miss the exchange the four gave each other. Were they hiding something?
“We’ll get you something to eat,” the woman they called A.J. offered hastily leaving the room before he could thank her.
“Now for clothes.” Donagh pursed his lips. “Can’t have ye going around in the ones we found ye in.” He looked at Connor. Though his son was probably the same height as Dougray, he was of a slighter built. He decided that maybe his clothes, though he was heavier, might fit the man better. “I’ll let ye borrow something of mine.”
“Thank ye. I will repay yer kindness.”
“That won’t be necessary. We only want to help.”
Connor and Donagh left the room then. As soon as the door closed behind them, Connor gave his father an anxious look. “What are we going to do, when the man remembers we are the cause of him forgetting who he is, in the first place? God, Pop, A.J. ran him off the road.”
“We will worry about that when the time comes.”
“Right. Besides, it’s not all our fault. The fog was so thick and what in the world was he doing out in the middle of nowhere and dressed like a lord of a castle? Did you get a load of the way he talks? He doesn’t sound like one of the locals. Do you think the blow to his head triggered him to think he actually is from that time period? Maybe the man’s an actor or something.”
Donagh just nodded his head. “Could be a possibility. We’ll make some inquiries and see if we can find out anything.”
Chapter 8
They stayed an extra two days in Dublin, while Aislinn asked around, showing a picture of Dougray, but no one recognized him. They were at a loss what to do with him. He was in perfect health other than he had no memory of anything pr
ior to waking up in their hotel room.
“I say we continue our trip,” Connor announced as soon as they were all situated for the Hennessy meeting.
“That’s a little insensitive, don’t you think?” Aislinn moved away from the window. They had decided to meet in their parents’ room while their guest used the shower to freshen up. After he had gotten the hang of it, he enjoyed taking the warm showers. He had told them that he didn’t remember ever taking one before. It was just another piece of the puzzle to add to the obvious. She tried to think of every possibility of why the man was roaming around a deserted area dressed like a warrior. She even went as far as the possibility that he was a vagrant, but she had to dismiss the idea for the man was carrying gold coins that had to be worth a mint. His sword was unbelievably authentic and the clothes seemed to be just as realistic. He was well built; his biceps bulged beneath the T-shirts that their father had given him. His hands had calluses indicating that he was not afraid of hard work. He could carry on a conversation, even though he spoke as if he had just been transported from the world of the past where both English as well as the old Gaelic were spoken. “We just can’t abandon him. Not that he isn’t capable of getting along, but he does seem…I don’t know, not aware of how the world works.”
“I agree.” Her mother nodded her head. “We can’t just let him wander around Ireland alone. He needs our help.”
“There they go again, Pop. Out to save the world.” Something the Hennessy women were prone to do. They took in strays only they were men and women rather than furry cuddly animals.
Donagh just smiled. “We are somewhat responsible for his condition.” “How do you know?” Connor had their attention. “Maybe he was always like this. Maybe he never could remember his name. Maybe this is all a scam.”
“A scam?” Aislinn didn’t believe that for a moment. “How do you suppose that? One, he offered us the gold coins for payment. Two, we were the ones that mowed him down or have you forgotten? It was an empty road, Connor. Did you think he just stood out there all morning waiting for the first car to come by? And just his luck, it was foggy to boot.”
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