“I’ll be back,” he called down.
“My name’s Luke. Lucas Tavish. Will that get me out any faster?” A moment of silence was followed by a string of muttered curses.
The man was slumped against the bars when Kiernan reentered the holding room. “Lucas?” Kiernan nodded, then whispered, “Loukas—the bringer of light… Your name is written in the books.”
“What books?”
“Never mind that for now. Is there any way you can prove who you are?”
The man, Lucas, was already nodding, though he let loose another string of curses as he pressed his hand into his back pocket then the front. “Damnit to hell! Mairi said I should give her my wallet and phone when I ripped my pocket. My ID and everything was in there. I’ve got nothing… except…” He reached into his other front pocket and pulled out something that looked like a thin, silver coin. He held it up and looked squarely at Kiernan. “My great grandfather told me no matter what, to never be without this.” He handed it to Kiernan. “He said someday it might very well save my life.”
Kiernan studied the thin metal. None of it meant much to him. Judging by its weight, it couldn’t be worth much either. Then he noticed something. Along the bottom edge on one side was a date. The numbers 2016 rose from the metal. He lifted his eyes to the man. “This number. What is it?”
“Each year, Grandpa Kiernan has had me replace the coin with a new one. That number,” he motioned to the coin, “reflects the current year.”
Kiernan nodded, staring back at the coin’s face. “Two thousand and sixteen,” he whispered before looking up. “It appears you have traveled back nearly six hundred years to meet your destiny.”
Luke started to scoff, then looked around. He still didn’t know what was going on, but arguing with the man who claimed to be his great grandfather, even though he was younger, not to mention that the span of six hundred years didn’t add up… no, something was wrong with the whole thing, but arguing those points weren’t going to help him. That much he knew.
Relief washed over him when the younger Kiernan handed his coin back.
“It doesn’t help with the who, but perhaps the when. I have to go speak to the Lord of the Keep now, but I’ll be back,” Kiernan told him. It was obvious by the way Kiernan’s eyes darted about he was trying to figure out everything as well. Luke stepped back and nodded. What else could he do?
“Don’t forget me,” he charged.
Kiernan chuckled and tapped his temple. “Memorable men are not soon forgotten.”
Luke sucked in a startled breath. Those were the same words his great grandfather had used throughout his childhood.
With a nod, Kiernan turned and left him alone again. Luke looked at the coin in his hand, tossing it up a couple of times before slipping it back into his pocket.
The creaking of the heavy door at the top of the stairs was followed by hard footfalls pounding against the steps. Luke stopped his pacing and moved back to the bars. He wasn’t surprised the person who entered the holding area a few seconds later wasn’t Kiernan, though he was surprised when the burly man dressed in leather and fur didn’t so much as lift his head to look in his direction as he crossed the space to another door on the far end of the room.
“He…hey!” he managed just before the man’s massive hands closed on the thick ring handle and heavy plank used to keep in whatever was behind that door. He had to suppress a shiver when the man turned toward him, the battle-damaged face bringing up forgotten boyhood images of one of the Hagan brothers leering at him from above as he administered face numbing blows. This man had obviously seen far worse, but his dark eyes and scraggly features held an uncanny resemblance. Frowning, Luke continued. “Kiernan Tavish. Any sign of him up there? He’s supposed to be coming to get me out of here.”
His hand now fondling the end of the whip attached to one side of his belt, the man took two steps toward Luke’s cell. “He tell ye he was comin’ back, Lord Tavish did?”
Luke was mesmerized by how the man’s mouth barely moved when he spoke, though when he smiled after Luke nodded, he was sure he knew why. The blackened and chipped teeth had to hurt like hell. It would have taken years of neglect or some powerful blows to get them to such an extreme.
“Well, if’n he did tell ye such, then he’ll be ‘ere. Otherwise…” He let his gaze rake down Luke from head to toe and then threw his head back and laughed at the scowl he received. “If not, I’ll be back to take ye to hell.” With another deep laugh, he turned back to the door, unbolted it and pulled the round ring to let himself in.
The moans and screams mixed with the repugnant smell that wafted out before the door closed had Luke stumbling back toward the dirt wall of his cell, his hands covering his nose. He’d always thought castle dungeons were part of the myth and folklore. You always thought time travel was impossible, too. He rolled his eyes at the voice in his head and slid back down to the floor to wait for his release.
Back against the wall, elbows on bent knees, he exhaled into his hands as he scrubbed them down his face. Keeping one ear alert for the sounds of the door above opening, Luke let his exhausted mind wander. None of this was truly possible. Was it?
His eyes scanned the room and thought about the door at the top of the steps. Just a few days ago, he and his youngest brother had found that door. At least he thought it was the same door. Set into one of the remaining walls of Somerled Keep, covered by at least a century of overgrown vegetation, the door would have remained hidden had Will not stumbled. The bush, followed by an unmistakable metal thud, had broken his brother’s fall and had the two men pulling back the vegetation to see what they had found. Luke had expected armor or some kind of artwork. He definitely wouldn’t have considered a door. He tried to remember the layout of the old castle ruins, wracking his brain for what he’d expected to find on the other side. Certainly, not steps carved into the dirt beneath the castle leading into a dungeon.
Together, he and Will had tried to pry off the locks that had been added to the thick, wooden plank that stretched across the door and fit snuggly into cradles on either side. They’d managed to break one, but the years and the elements had other plans. Luke told Will they’d come back with the proper tools to get the job done. The twenty-four-year-old had shrugged, putting his palm against the door one more time before turning to finish their rounds about the old ruins. His brows drawn, Luke had stared at the door, putting his palm against it as well before quickly stepping away. The door, even in the cool of the morning, was warm to the touch. He’d made a mental note to ask his great grandfather about the door… a note that he never got around to pulling back out again.
Three days later, he and Mairi were up checking the ruins after Will hadn’t come home and she’d wanted them to go down there. Mairi. The thought of the foul-mouthed girl, who seemed to have always been a part of their lives, made Luke smile. Sexy as sin… at least the woman she was growing up to be was. She’d been a bit homely as a young girl and early teenager, but she’d recently grown into her big blue eyes that she swore were a dark shade of purple. And that sandy brown hair that looked red in the sunlight… It had run your fingers through it while you kiss me hard up against a wall woven into every strand. Too bad he’d never get to do that.
Mairi had the hots for his older brother, Seth. At thirty-one, Seth had to be what… thirteen years older than her? Luke shook his head, wondering if she even remembered Seth or if it was just the memory of him that had her teenage body all wet and ready. He’d joined the military when she was just ten and hadn’t returned until she was fourteen. After that, he’d been back every two years. Maybe. It made no sense to him why she’d taken such a liking to Seth. He would have been better suited for her. Or Will. Luke sighed. Truthfully, Mairi and Will would have made the better match. They were closer in age, though Will was probably too much of a dreamer for Mairi. Maybe not. She loved her old jewelry and ancient artifacts and often looked like she was walking back in time when she’d talk a
bout them. That was close to day dreaming.
Time. Walking back in time… Luke let himself think of the woman he’d seen just before… He shook his head. This was crazy. There had to be another explanation. Maybe he’d been hit in the head when he and Mairi had moved the debris away from the metal door and it had flown open with the gush of foul-smelling air that blew out from inside. He squinted, remembering the two of them fighting the door closed and working the thick wooden bar back over it. After a few minutes of startled laughter, they’d made their way back toward the front of Somerled where they’d encountered the woman. What had she said her name was? He wracked his brain.
Amileigh. Amileigh McCollum, she’d said. The only daughter of Gairlich McCollum. He searched his mind, trying to remember the history of the old castle, though history had never really been his cup of tea. If he wasn’t mistaken, Gairlich McCollum and his family had lived in the Keep around… six hundred years ago. Luke groaned. Maybe this was all just a really bad joke.
But the fully restored Keep hadn’t been a joke, though. He’d dived across dirt and grass in the midst of ruins to keep the woman from hitting her head on jutting debris when she fell, and landed with his hands beneath her, both of their bodies sprawled on cool tile within a warm, fully enclosed entry hall fit for a castle.
God, his head hurt. And that damn humming… When had that started? He thought… when he’d rounded the corner of the crumbling entryway. No. Before that. He’d been dealing with a slight hum ever since his hand had contacted the metal door that first time, only he’d pushed it aside, figuring it was a change in the weather or whatever shift was occurring that was causing the earth tremors. By the time he’d entered the entryway area of the old Keep, the sound in his head had grown to the point he’d had to really fight against it to concentrate on the woman. What did he remember of her between the time he’d first seen her in the future and been pulled away from her in the past? Or would that be present? Luke didn’t really care. All of it made his brain hurt, especially since thoughts of her seemed to be causing the hum to grow.
Crazy, he thought. That was how he felt about the situation as well as what he’d thought when he first saw the woman who claimed she was Amileigh McCollum. Stunning, but batshit crazy in her long, creamy-white dress covered in dirt and dried leaves. Other than being soiled, the dress looked like something Mairi might have had in the little antiques and vintage clothing store she ran with his great grandmother. The woman’s long, blonde hair was obviously thick given by the width of the braid draped over her shoulder. It was probably beautiful when it was loose and clean. But the way she’d held herself, as if life itself was confusing and terrifying… except when she looked at him.
When her eyes locked with his, he’d wanted to make the world stop for her, forcing it to answer all her unasked questions, and she’d looked at him as if she believed he could do it. He’d been unable to tear his gaze away from her from that point on, especially when she practically licked her lips when she was looking him over. Luke was certain he’d laughed at that, or at least smirked. It wasn’t like it was a response he’d never had from women. He and his brothers were all decent looking men, naturally fit. He also spent a fair amount of time defining in his home gym and he supposed his line of work helped too. He’d always dreamed of restoring old houses, and that’s what he’d ended up doing after his college years. His great grandfather had laughed when he’d first told him what he wanted to do, which really didn’t make sense, especially with the old man’s love of history and freakishly guardian-like concern over Somerled.
Beyond that, Luke wasn’t entirely sure exactly what Kiernan did since he was already retired by the time Luke met him for the first time. Now Kiernan mostly puttered around, pestering his grandmother and Mairi at the antiques shop, and pushing Luke and his brothers to make sure they settled close to Ruthven Manor. At least he was when he wasn’t off traveling somewhere, which he also seemed to do a lot.
Luke groaned again. So much of his life was starting to make sense and yet still made no sense at all. He let his head fall back against the wall behind him. Where was Kiernan? And where was the woman? Amileigh.
Chapter 5
Kiernan practically burst through Gairlich’s study door after running all the way up the steps from the holding cell and back to the wing where the man waited. Gairlich jumped when the door flew open and Kiernan spent the first few seconds apologizing to the Lord of Somerled.
“Well?” Gairlich commanded, his tone holding irritation that Kiernan suspected went well beyond the irreverent intrusion.
“Aye, my Lord. I do believe this man is from the future. Some nearly 600 years, to be exact,” Kiernan told him through labored breaths. At Gairlich’s urging, Kiernan told him what all had been said and about the coin, all the while, Gairlich sat at his desk staring down at a large book opened before him.
“Stop,” Gairlich ordered at one point. “What did you say was his name?”
Kiernan told him and Gairlich nodded, spinning the book around and pushing it toward the opposite side of the massive desk.
Looking from the open page back to Gairlich, and then back at the book, Kiernan caressed the pages with reverence before asking, “Where did you get this?” When Gairlich didn’t speak, Kiernan turned his eyes back to the somber man.
“You… you know what it is?”
Kiernan nodded. It was the book that mentioned Luke’s name. Loukas, actually, but they were too similar to be coincidence.
Gairlich sighed. “It’s been passed down from generation to generation since the beginning… Saundra’s mother, Lady Cairistine, told me I should entrust it to no one, save for my own daughter should I have one, or a woman named…” He closed his eyes for a moment, their confusion replaced with clarity when he opened them again. “She said someday I would meet a woman named Abra. Though that day has yet to come, and now my own daughter is about to be whisked away from me.” Gairlich’s voice rose and he slammed his fist down on his desk making the scattered contents jump along with his companion.
Kiernan sucked in a loud breath, knowing Gairlich probably thought his reaction was to his outburst. That had surprised him a little, though he might well have acted the same way. No, his surprise was that Abra, his Abra, had been named. The sacred tomes of the Nebrani were to be entrusted to his beloved, and if everything went as Fate seemed to be orchestrating, perhaps someday they would be returned to Amileigh. Just in a different time.
With a loud sigh, Gairlich reached over and pulled the book back in front of him where he set about wrapping it in a soft cloth before returning it to a locked cabinet behind his desk. “I should have paid more attention to the books. I’ve read through most of them. Though briefly. I just never imagined any of this would happen during my lifetime. Certainly, not to my daughter.”
“I know Abra,” Kiernan practically whispered.
Kiernan’s confession had Gairlich straightening and turning toward him rather quickly, his bronze brows drawing down along with his mouth. “Do tell. You are a man of many secrets, Lord Tavish.”
Kiernan chuckled. More than most of them would ever know. “Yes, though I believe our first line of action is to bring your daughter and the captive man face to face to see what happens. I have concerns that the Dubhagan have caught wind of your daughter’s maturity and perhaps even Fate’s plans. We would do well to take caution. Heaven forbid we stand in Fate’s way.”
Gairlich’s lips thinned, his eyes dulling. He finally nodded. “I suppose we have no choice. I will summon her here. You go and fetch the man.”
The knock on Amileigh’s door had been expected and yet she still jumped. Abigail tittered, her laugh nervous and unsure as she finished tying the bow at her mistress’ waist and stepped back. The smile on the young woman’s face told Amileigh exactly what it always did… that she looked quite fetching. Her hair loose, she pulled it around to drape over one shoulder and smoothed the mass of curls before moving to open the door.
Auley snorted. “Sorry, Sis. All you get is me.” She rolled her eyes and he continued. “I am to escort you to Father’s study at once. Not sure what you’ve gotten yourself into, but being called to the study is never good news.” He laughed when she scoffed and swatted at the arm he held out for her. “Come on, Prissy Butt. You took so long answering the door that we need to hurry.”
“I didn’t take that long,” she huffed at him and stepped into the hallway, her legs feeling suddenly heavy. Each step toward her father’s study filled her with increasing dread. And yet there was an air of excitement as well. At least there was until she faced the man who had helped bring her into this world. His handsomely stern features etched with concern, he motioned for her to sit down in one of the oversized wingback chairs near the fireplace at the far end of the room.
“We need to talk…” her father began.
Auley was right. Those were never good words. Amileigh nodded, her head remaining down so that he could not see the tears forming in her eyes. With a deep breath, she turned away from his desk.
Several steps away from the chairs, she stopped, placing her fingertips against her temples and closing her eyes. The hum had suddenly increased to the point that she was no longer certain she would be able to move. Her father was at her side almost instantly. She could feel his strong arms around her as he helped her cross the final distance and sit down just before the door opened. Kiernan stepped in, followed by the man… the one she had seen in the ruins of Somerled.
The loud sucking in of Amileigh’s breath had all eyes turning in her direction. She noticed only the man. She could feel nothing beyond the tenseness in her body and the unnerving desire to rise and go to him. He stared back as she looked him over, noting the peach rose colored shirt had been fastened and tucked into the strange britches. His dark hair, though she could tell he’d at least combed his fingers through it, still looked ruffled. She longed to touch it, to run her palm down the side of his face, to…
On Wings of Time (Lochlainn Guardians Book 1) Page 4
