Arch Through Time: Books 1, 2 and 3: Scottish Time Travel Romances (Arch Through Time Collections)

by Katy Baker

  Gretchen rolled her eyes. “Not you as well. I’m not a child—I made my decision and now I have to live with it. It wasn’t your fault, Isabelle, just as it wasn’t Amy’s. And besides, we’re going to fix this so they’ll be no lasting harm done.”

  They quickly explained the plan to Isabelle who listened in silence, nodding at intervals.

  “I wish ye good speed, the both of ye. Here, I’ve two horses ready.”

  She led out two chestnut mares saddled and ready. Gretchen and Amy swung into the saddles then Gretchen reached down and clasped Isabelle’s shoulder.

  “Thanks, Isabelle. Try not to worry, we’ll be back soon, and the Murray clan will be right behind us. Then we’ll tuck into one of your famous feasts!”

  Isabelle laughed. “Aye and ye’ll be in the kitchen helping me prepare it!”

  She stepped back and the riders kicked their horses into motion. As they neared the gate Gretchen kept her hood up but Amy rode ahead with her hood down so the guards could see who she was.

  “Nice day for a ride dinna ye reckon?” she called to the guards as she approached.

  “Aye, if ye say so, my lady,” one of them replied, stepping back to let her and Gretchen pass.

  Gretchen held her breath, any moment expecting them to call her back but they didn’t. When they rounded a bend into the village and the first row of houses hid them from sight she pulled up her mount and let out a breath. Amy was grinning and there was a flush to her cheeks. She wasn’t enjoying this, was she?

  Frowning at her friend, Gretchen slid from the saddle and ran down the street to the baker’s shop. She searched under the empty water barrel and pulled out the parchment, grateful that it hadn’t been damaged. Carefully she tucked it into her pocket then raced back to Amy and remounted.

  “Got it?” Amy asked.

  Gretchen patted her pocket. “Got it.”

  “Good. Let’s ride.”

  It wasn’t difficult to find the army’s trail. A wide swath of hoof prints and footprints marked their passage, littered with the detritus of the march: broken equipment, the remains of food, piles of horse-dung. Amy and Gretchen rode hard all afternoon through the heather-covered hills, splashing across streams, racing through valleys, until finally, as the sun was sinking behind the horizon, they reached the army’s camp.

  They reined in and gazed at the valley before them. It twinkled with hundreds of campfires and the smell of smoke and roasting meat filled the air. It was a sight to behold and Gretchen sat for a moment, taking it all in.

  “How will we find Ewan in that?”

  Amy rolled her eyes. “He’s a commander, he’ll be in the center, of course. We need to act as if we have every right to be here—people willnae question us if we look confident. Everyone knows ye and Ewan are well...close...but they dinna know about ye being arrested. They shouldnae make too much of ye being here—as long as we dinna run into any of de Clare’s men, that is.”

  “So what do you suggest?”

  “We’ll leave the horses at the edge of the camp and go in on foot. We’ll make for the center, ye going to find Ewan and me going to find Merith. I’ll make out I followed the army because I want to take part in the campaign. She’ll believe that. She reckons I’m too wild as it is. When I find her I’ll do my best to get Richard de Clare away from her.” She shrugged. “Then ye’ll need to show Ewan that parchment and do some convincing.”

  Gretchen nodded. “Let’s go.”

  They rode to the edge of the camp and dismounted, leaving the animals in one of the many corrals that dotted the area.

  “Wait! Who goes there?” a voice called from the darkness. A guard carrying a naked sword emerged from the night.

  Amy lifted her chin and put on her best haughty-lady voice. “It’s me, Amy Murray. I’m here to see my sister. Ye will escort me to her right away.”

  The guard, recognising Amy, sketched a rough bow and then led the way between the tents, weaving between campfires and knots of warriors until they reached an open space in the middle of the encampment. Here three large tents stood apart from the rest. The Murray plaid flew from the center pole of one—Merith’s tent at a guess.

  “My thanks,” Amy said to the guard. “Ye may return to yer post.”

  Gretchen and Amy crouched down behind a supply wagon and looked out, considering their next move. A group of men approached talking in low voices. Gretchen’s heart skipped as she saw Ewan at their head. He was deep in conversation with Connail. The men stopped not ten paces from where Gretchen and Amy hid.

  “Tell the scouts to push further east,” Ewan was saying. “I dinna like the look of that copse. It could hide an ambush. I’ll not have the MacFarlanes sneaking up on us unawares.”

  “Aye, it will be done,” Connail replied. He placed his hand on Ewan’s shoulder. “Why don’t ye come join us by the fire? Nay doubt the men will be getting roaring drunk by now. I’ll nay be surprised if the singing doesnae start soon.”

  Ewan smiled wryly. “My thanks for the invitation but I’ll pass. I prefer to be alone on the eve of battle.”

  “As ye wish,” Connail replied. “But ye know where we are if ye change yer mind.”

  “Aye. Make sure the men get some sleep and don’t drink so much they canna get up in the morning. It’s a big day ahead. Good night, Connail.”

  “Good night, Ewan.”

  The men moved off and Ewan strode to one of the tents, ducking through the flap. A moment later a candle lit inside. Anxiety churned in Gretchen’s belly. This was it. Ewan was only a few feet away from her but now she was suddenly as nervous as a girl on her first date. She hadn’t seen Ewan since she’d been accused of being a spy. How would he react to her? What if he didn’t listen? Or worse, gave her up to Merith and Richard de Clare?

  Don’t be stupid, she told herself savagely. He won’t do that. He loves you.

  “What are ye waiting for?” Amy muttered. “Go now, while the coast is clear. I’ll go find Merith.”

  She held out her hand and Gretchen grasped it.

  “Stay safe, Amy.”

  With that she darted from their hiding place and over to the tent. She ducked under the tent flap and stepped inside. The smell of leather and polish hit her immediately, along with something else. It was a subtler scent but one that she’d recognize instantly. Ewan.

  She looked around the tent but Ewan was nowhere to be seen. It was sparsely furnished with just a pile of furs for a bed, a small table which had maps strewn across it and a candle burning on a stand in the corner.

  She heard the soft hiss of steel too late. A blade suddenly pressed against her throat.

  “Who are ye?” Ewan’s voice hissed in her ear. “Some MacFarlane assassin?”

  Gretchen gasped, all too aware of the razor sharp blade brushing her skin. “It’s me!” she cried. “It’s Gretchen!”

  There was a hiss of intaken breath and the blade disappeared. Strong hands seized her, spun her around so she was standing in the candlelight. She found herself staring up into Ewan’s face.

  His eyes widened in shock. “Gretchen? What, by all the hells, are ye doing here?” He stepped back, sheathing his sword and then tossing it to the floor. “And why are ye sneaking into my tent like this? I could have killed ye!” His voice was laced with anger and his eyes flared with suspicion.

  Gretchen swallowed. She had to handle this very carefully. “I came because I need to clear my name, Ewan. I came because I have to do everything I can to stop this idiotic battle. I came because I had to see you, to explain everything. Amy helped me escape Dun Carrick.”

  “Amy? What’s she got to do with all this?”

  She took a step towards him. He watched her, his dark hair framing his face, his eyes pinning her to the spot. Jesus, he was so handsome. She longed to reach out, run her fingers through his hair but she didn’t. She knew instinctively that would be the wrong thing to do. She could almost see the thoughts churning behind his eyes. He was trying to figure out what
was going on. Hoping she could explain all this away, dreading that she couldn’t.

  “I’m waiting, Gretchen,” he growled. “Tell me why I shouldnae call the guards and have ye taken away.”

  There it was. The pain she’d been expecting. It was raw in his voice and now she saw it in his eyes too. She’d hurt him. She should have told him about Darcy, trusted him. But she hadn’t and now he looked at her with a mixture of hurt and mistrust. It cut her to the bone.

  “All I ask is five minutes of your time. Listen to my story. Then, if you still don’t believe me, you can call the guards. Deal?”

  Ewan stared at her for a long moment. Emotions warred in his eyes. His arm jerked as though he would reach out to her but he kept his distance.

  “Deal,” he said.

  Gretchen breathed a sigh of relief. “That woman you saw me talking to? It was Darcy, my friend. The one I came to Scotland to find.”

  Ewan crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Ye already told us that. Am I supposed to believe ye didn’t know she was a MacFarlane?”

  “Yes! The first I heard about it was when Amy’s friend sent word of someone matching Darcy’s description living with the MacFarlanes. By that time it was too late to tell you. Merith had already begun mustering for war. Do you think she would have let me go running off to meet with the enemy?”

  “Nay, she wouldnae. But ye still should have come to me.”

  “And you would have agreed to me meeting Darcy?”

  “Of course not.”

  Gretchen threw up her hands. “There you are! So how the hell could I tell you? You’d have stopped me meeting her. Darcy. My friend who I feared was dead. The whole reason for me being here. I couldn’t let this chance slip away. She’s no enemy of the Murrays and I’m no spy. We were just two friends meeting after such a long time.”

  His eyes narrowed. “I heard ye, lass. I heard ye telling her where our camp would be.”

  “So she would know where to send messengers that’s all! The MacFarlanes have offered safe passage to go speak to them. They want peace!”

  “Is that so? So why have they been raiding our lands? Why did they attack MacGregor’s caravan?”

  Gretchen stepped forward, laid her hand on Ewan’s arm and was pleased when he didn’t pull away. “They didn’t! The MacFarlanes aren’t behind any of this—Richard de Clare is! This is all a game, a ploy to get revenge on the MacFarlanes and give him power over the Murray clan. We shouldn’t even be here, Ewan.” She raised her hands, indicating the surrounding camp. “This whole situation has been engineered by Richard de Clare. We are playing his game exactly how he planned.”

  “Those are mighty claims, lass,” he said, his voice hard and cold. “De Clare is a coward and a snake but even he wouldnae dare do the things ye claim.”

  “Oh, do you think? This is the man who believes he can force himself on any woman he wants and get away with it? But if you don’t believe me, believe the man himself!”

  She dug into her pocket, pulled out the scroll and thrust it at Ewan. He took it hesitantly. “What’s this?”

  “Proof. Proof of everything I’m telling you. That’s a letter that de Clare wrote to a man called Drummond. Does the name ring a bell? He’s the caravan merchant. The one that was ‘attacked’ by the MacFarlanes. It details de Clare’s payment to the man for staging the attack.”

  Ewan unrolled the scroll. His eyes scanned the page, his scowl deepening with every word.

  “I don’t believe it,” he breathed. “That bastard. I’ll kill him for this.”

  He grabbed his sword from the tent floor and strode towards the entrance. Gretchen threw herself in front of him and shoved against his chest.

  “No!” she cried. “If you confront him now, you’ll ruin everything! We have the advantage because he doesn’t know we’ve uncovered his schemes. Give that away and you’ll squander our chance!”

  Ewan glared at her, fire in his eyes. For a moment, Gretchen was afraid. Afraid of what he’d do. Afraid of what the consequences might be.

  But then his gaze softened and he sighed, letting his sword thump to the floor.

  “I’m a fool,” he whispered. “A damned fool. How could I have fallen for his lies? How could I have believed him over ye?” He stepped forward, took Gretchen’s hands and kissed them. “Can ye ever forgive me, love?”

  A wave of relief washed through Gretchen. She found herself laughing and crying at the same time. “There’s nothing to forgive, you big oaf.”

  “Oaf is it?” he growled. He grabbed her round the waist and lifted her from the ground, throwing her over his shoulder like a sack of spuds. “I’ll give ye ‘oaf’!”

  She squealed and pounded his back. “Put me down! I think I’m going to be sick!”

  With a laugh he crossed the tent and lowered her onto the pile of furs. “Should I get ye a bucket?”

  “You have no manners, has anyone ever told you that?”

  “All the time,” he replied. Then his expression turned serious. He gazed at her, emotion flickering in his eyes. “Lord, but I’m mighty glad to see ye, love. I nearly died of fright when I realized it was ye who’d snuck into my tent, but I was pleased as well.” He shook his head in amazement. “Ye are a wild one, Gretchen Matthews. I dinna know many lasses who’d be able to escape imprisonment, ride across country and then sneak through a war camp.”

  Gretchen laughed. “You should meet Darcy. She’s every bit as bad as me. And your cousin Amy isn’t too far behind.”

  He frowned. “Aye. I reckon ye may be a bad influence on her.”

  Gretchen nodded. “I sure hope so.”

  Ewan reached out and took her hand. “Ye may be wild but ye are also brave and kind, Gretchen. Ye are everything. Do ye understand? Everything. I never knew what living was until ye came into my life.”

  Gretchen’s breath caught in her throat. She curled her fingers around his, feeling every contour of his hard, calloused hands. His eyes were fixed on hers, so deep, so intense she was sure she could lose herself in them.

  “Ewan,” she breathed. Her voice came out in a throaty whisper. “I don’t want to be apart from you again. Ever.”

  “Then marry me,” he said, his eyes boring into hers. “Stay with me forever. Be my wife.”

  All sound seemed to recede. Hell, the whole world seemed to recede. There was nothing else for Gretchen, just Ewan and this moment. Only that.

  A shiver went through her body. Seemingly from miles away she heard a voice, Irene MacAskill’s voice saying, “and ye just might find yer heart’s desire.”

  Her heart’s desire.

  She’d never known what that was until now. Until she met Ewan. But now it was obvious, like a path laid before her. Everything she’d ever wanted was right here. A family that loved her. Friends that cherished her. But most of all, most of all, this man. This brave, beautiful, honorable man that turned her world upside down.

  There was no choice. There never had been, right from the moment he’d captured her heart.

  “Yes,” she said. “Of course I’ll marry you!”

  The smile that lit his face was pure delight, full of joy. He clasped her face in his hands and leaned close. “I’ll make ye happy, love. I promise ye.”

  “I know you will,” she said, struggling to speak through the sudden tears. “I know you will.”

  He leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers. Fire erupted along Gretchen’s nerves. A sudden, desperate need took her. She wanted Ewan. She needed him. She kissed him hungrily, tangling her fingers in his hair and pulling him onto the bed on top of her.

  Ewan seemed to feel the same. His kisses were as rough as hers, his tongue snaking into her mouth, his teeth nipping at her lips. He tasted so good. He felt so good. The weight of his body pressing against hers, the smell of him around her, the feel of his silky hair between her fingers, all made her giddy with need and desire.

  Ewan’s kisses traveled down her neck, tracing a line of fire along her c
ollarbone and the space where her neck met her shoulder. Gretchen shivered, as goose bumps rode up her skin. Her hands swept down Ewan’s back and she began pulling at his plaid, desperate to get to the body underneath.

  Ewan dipped his head, allowing her to tug the plaid over his shoulders, leaving his upper torso bare. Gretchen drank in the sight of him. The clean contours of his muscles rippled in the candlelight, his thick strong, arms circling her, making her feel so safe.

  He took hold of her dress and untied the laces on the front, exposing her chest to the chill air. She shrugged it from her shoulders and Ewan’s eyes widened, taking in her body with a hungry stare.

  “Gretchen,” he murmured. “Ye are the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen.”

  He bent his head and laid slow, sensual kisses across her breasts and shoulders. Gretchen gasped, arching her back and moaning. She ran her hands down his bare back, loving the sensation of his hard body under her palms. He shivered at her touch, a low hiss escaping his lips.

  He grabbed her dress and pulled it down over her waist, dragging it off her body and tossing it away. His eyes roved over her for a second, dark with lust, and then he untied the rest of his plaid and tossed that away too.

  He knelt above her, completely naked. Gretchen’s eyes drank him in. They traced the line of his wide, muscled chest to his narrow waist and then lower to where his manhood stood proud and ready. She licked her lips, a wave of heat flooding through her from the space between her legs.

  She reached up, grabbed his shoulders and pulled him down on top of her. His naked body against hers felt amazing. His skin burned like a furnace, warming her against the chill air. He pushed her knees apart with his own and positioned himself above her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, staring up into his eyes.

  Their gazes locked. Neither spoke. There was no need to. Everything they wanted to say was conveyed in that look.

  Then Ewan dropped his hips and thrust, entering Gretchen in one long, smooth motion until he was buried in her up to the hilt. Gretchen’s eyes slid closed as a wave of pure pleasure rolled through her. She opened them a moment later to find Ewan still staring down at her.