10 Timeless Heroes; A Time Travel Romance Boxed Set

by P. L. Parker, Beth Trissel, L. L. Muir, Skhye Moncrief, Sky Purington, Nancy Lee Badger, Caroline Clemmons, Bess McBride, Donna Michaels

  So much for chatting. He smiled so sweetly. As if he'd planned Jennifer's actions all along. Forget steak. Bangers and beans were better than being tossed aside like an old shoe. Some slap in the face. What a vacation of missed meals because the soup kitchen began looking as if it wanted me to eat bangers and beans out of an old shoe. Returning to Cousin John tomorrow is bad enough. I would have erred immensely latching onto Murdo's smiling mug. Good thing Jennifer flushed out his true colors.

  Footfalls whispered in crunching gravel at my heels. An arm wrapped around my shoulder.

  Pam.

  Her purple sweatshirt crept into view as she settled in to walk beside me. "Hey." Pam chuckled. "We're about to cruise around Loch Lomond. Doesn't that send a chill down your spine?"

  Actually, no. Mr. Boots does. I mustered a smile. "No more chills."

  A cool breeze jangled the leaves in the nearby treetops.

  A chill. Oh what a joke. The universe could make a girl feel mighty edgy. On the other hand, the sunset will be the payoff for a long vacation. If only I found some kilted Scotsman who preferred a simple metal smith over money-grubbing big-boobed Guinevere. Surely there's a kilted man somewhere who wants more than a trophy wife!

  "You didn't answer," Pam cooed.

  Who wants to answer? I blinked and realized I stared at Murdo's slightly curved legs.

  Muscular calves that should be immortalized in bronze. Damn him. I shook off the fog and studied Pam's expectant straight-lipped smile. "I was just thinking about going back to work tomorrow."

  "Well, you won't truly be working until Tuesday."

  "True. But there's still so much I haven't seen."

  "That's what keeps us going."

  If only I could operate on that kind of logic around the clock. But logic isn't squelching the bangers-and-beans monotony from my future.

  Murdo walked up the wooden steps leading up to the shop's door.

  Dang, the way his legs bent with each footstep stole my breath away. Maybe he isn't so bad. If I could just overlook my experiences. Block them from my mind. Heck. He hadn't groped me when he saved me from Mr. Boots.

  The shop's door whined.

  A lovely plea for me to stop thinking Murdo could be different.

  A cloud burst of sweet tobacco escaped from the boathouse.

  Who cares about homey aromas when Murdo's square calves lured a girl upstairs? Why can't I stop looking at those block-shaped muscles? Because Jennifer had already snared him.

  "Hul-looooo," a deep voice called out.

  Who is that? He sounded friendly. I reached for the open door's wooden edge, pushing the slab wider, stepping into the boathouse behind those bodies blocking my view.

  The others shuffled sideways, revealing a smiling man.

  No more than forty-five, his face browned and furrowed from life on the water.

  He plucked a pipe from his mouth, parted his lips, and exhaled a long plume of white smoke. "Good day. You must be the Lovelace party?"

  "Yes." Pam plied forward, always the one to take command after using her credit card in making reservations.

  He poked the stem of the pipe back between his burgundy lips.

  A sign above his head read Black Liam.

  Black can't imply good. Talk about an omen with the day's course of events. Whatever "Black Liam" referred to didn't resonate with friendly tunes. Especially since the man has golden hair. Black must note something bad.

  Chapter 6

  Katie didn't know whether to run or unsheathe Murdo's claymore. Somehow, she managed to stand perfectly still. Somehow is one ridiculously magical word, she concluded.

  "You're right on time. I'm Skipper Liam." The captain thrust his palm out and grinned. His grin split his graying short reddish growth of a beard.

  Women who don't take omens seriously might have thought him friendly. Not me. Not with all the whining and creaking-ass doors around Scotland.

  Pam took the offered hand and shook heartily.

  Keep him busy, my friend. I scanned the room's walls for a clue to the meaning of the nickname.

  Every wall except one was covered with topographic maps and pictures of catches, boats, and people. One wall held a display of snacks like convenience stores in the States, offering everything from candy to nuts. A red-and-white Coca-Cola dispenser hummed in one far corner. A nice collectible piece worthy of drawing massive volumes of electricity just to appeal to the masses for the sake of nostalgia. A treasure. One day, I'd be in a place where I could keep such antiques from being lost to time. One day.

  "We're to return by 7:30. You didn't request supper but there'll be drinks aboard." Black Liam had anything but a sinister voice. He literally sounded like a kind grandfather.

  Me believe that? Right. And that Mr. Boots was just pulling my leg waving that carving knife at me.

  Jennifer hustled over for a bit of last-minute snack foraging along the shelved wall.

  "Come on, Jennifer," Pam scolded. "You can't be hungry. We just ate at one o'clock."

  No more bickering. Pam sleeping with Murdo looked more and more like the best arrangement for the night. Not to mention, Pam's devoted to her fiancée.

  Jennifer cast a beguiling smile toward Murdo. "Hungry, Murdo?"

  "Of course he isn't. He ate a side of beef three hours ago," Pam snarled.

  Jennifer stuck her tongue out at Pam, grabbed a bag of peanuts, and headed for the counter.

  More sad behavior? I tried not to grimace and turned for the door, looking through the glass down the pier. "Is The Introspection our ride?"

  "Aye," Black Liam confirmed from behind the counter.

  Good. Jennifer and Pam could both use a little introspection. "I'll be outside." I gripped the cold doorknob and twisted.

  Two steps later, I closed the door and headed for the weathered pier.

  The door whined again.

  Departing guests apparently left the shop wanting. I wouldn't return to make a purchase just because the door cried for everyone to do so.

  My feet found firm footing in the pier's timbers.

  Heavy footfalls matched mine though.

  By the sound of them, the footfalls had to belong to Black Liam or Murdo. Neither of the girls weighed more than me. Better Murdo than Black Liam. The captain must be a pirate. What else can black imply given the day's strange events?

  The pier's rail herded me along a hundred feet, then, forked left and right. But glorious peaceful water stretched on beyond the weathered boards. I leaned against the rail and watched dark clear water riffle beneath a cool gusty breeze. Trees peacefully swayed along the edge of the Loch. As in a graceful dancing salute to this grand finale for a vacation.

  Blue-and-green plaid sidled up beside me in my periphery.

  Murdo planted his elbows on the rail and canted toward the water. "'Tis beautiful." He scanned Loch Lomond.

  The obvious. But I'd be nice. "Yes it is. That's why we had to see it this year."

  A black-and-white water bird flapped wildly out of a clump of grass that ringed the mirroring water's surface. The creature pounded the air with black wings, working straight across the lake in front of them.

  Murdo craned left toward the boat, watching the bird pass. "You're not Scottish?"

  "My father was." I studied the leather tie binding his dark queue at the nape of his neck.

  His profile turned a curious stare to anchor a chilling blue gaze on me. "But you revere the loch?"

  Oh my. Really really magnificent. Just his eyes alone. That's why Jennifer kept after him. His eyes had a spell-binding quality. No one could refuse. Could that gaze see right through me? Spot my indecision about him? He needs to look away. "Who wouldn't? Just look at it." I waved his view back to the amazing sun-lit panorama.

  There's no reason to cough up details of my life though. Oh God. I'm actually taking this man home with me.

  "Was?" he asked.

  What? Now, I'm lost. I have to pay more attention or look the idiot.

&
nbsp; Murdo turned back, gracing me with the most perfect inquisitive stare. "You said your father was a Scot."

  Hollow footfalls noted people approached on the pier.

  Good. I can answer this question and be done with this discussion before his closeness and attention set my body throbbing. "Father died with my mother when I was seventeen. They were killed by a drunk driver."

  Murdo flinched and grimaced.

  "Come now. The loch awaits." Black Liam stepped toward the bobbing Introspection, moving beyond Murdo's tartan draped shoulder.

  "Murdo," Jennifer squealed, taking his arm. "I've got us some snacks to tie us over until dinner. Let's get a drink. Something sinfully warm." She smiled wickedly, tugging his upper arm into her breasts, tugging him along after the skipper.

  So much for chatting with Mr. Perfect. Catching him with a pity hook was awful foolish in retrospect. I dropped my gaze to the water lapping at the beams over the edge of the pier beneath my brown hiking boots as if demanding I revere the surrounding scene.

  Pam's scuffed tennis shoes halted next to my brown hiking boots, and she smirked.

  Always the aardvark. What now? The gesture can't be because Pam ruined a good pair of walking shoes while hill walking over the past month.

  "Come on." Pam took my elbow. "The sunset's what we came for."

  If Pam had only found a kilt of her own, she would agree coming was what vacation was all about. I'd secretly wished to find a decent man, the one my father promised lived in Scotland. But designing swords would have to suffice. Pam doesn't need to know though.

  "All aboard." Pam pushed my shoulders up the three steps to the cabin and across The Introspection's wooden threshold.

  "You're sure pushy today," I growled over my shoulder.

  The boat proved bigger than expected. But then again boats were like houses. Smallish on the outside. Huge interiors. The cabin was both tall and well lit by an endless expanse of windows. Nothing blocked the view of distant trees, endless swells, and sky. Or the traffic jam. Everyone in front of me stopped to gaze out windows. So much for progression through the cabin's narrow passageway.

  "There's Ben Lomond," Black Liam boomed.

  Yes. Nice mountain peak on the hill.

  "You're welcome to venture out on the spacious side decks for shooting photographs," the captain said.

  His words seemed to encourage the group to move again. Maybe Jennifer would disappear too. With her camera. Nice idea. I scanned the horizon for the quasi-mountain, finding hills peaking in every direction.

  A stork beat its huge brown wings out of the eastern tree line, serenely heading westward.

  "Wow," Jennifer gasped, her expression blocked by Murdo's upturned cuffs ahead of me. "It's amazing how the same animals live in so many latitudes."

  Well, that shouldn't have been such a profound point for a biologist. Ditz. I shrugged off the blithering declaration.

  The bottleneck finally sputtered into motion.

  I followed Murdo's wagging kilt.

  God, why am I looking at his ass again? Thank goodness it's covered. I strained to focus on the craggy horizon beyond the window to the right, just inside where the window ended in paneling and another door.

  "The lavatory is on the right. And up here is the galley," our host announced.

  Black Liam proved quite the attentive guide. Not so dark after all.

  The hallway opened into a large windowed space with two small tables surrounded by benches and a kitchenette to the left.

  Black Liam fingered a switch on the wall and soft golden light shown down on the metal sink. Wineglasses glittered like a chandelier where they hung upside down from wooden slats beneath the light box. Black Liam turned his smile our direction. "You may take your time here. We've an ample bar of which I'll open once my son, Todd, arrives. He'll be at the wheel. Feel free to come and go to claim the most memorable views."

  "Ahoy, Da," a man timbered.

  We spun to find a lean young man, working his way toward us.

  Now, he isn't Murdo, but his kilt revealed a nice pair of bronze-able legs. Oh. Yes. Casting statuary started to look like a pretty good second-best choice with metal working if swords didn't pan out.

  "And this would be Todd. So, we'll be off." Black Liam began to whistle.

  It isn't the Gilligan Island tune but the song sounded like a sea chantey. And Todd smiled far too much to ignore his presence. Talk about a brunette with the biggest blue eyes a girl had ever seen after peering into Murdo's. Most of all, Todd's orange-and-red kilt showcased those gnaw-able Scottish legs. Yes. Meaty. Dinner metamorphosed from beans and weenies into London broil.

  Todd sauntered toward us, pausing at Pam's side. "Ladies." He beamed without showing any of us a bit of favoritism, and nodded, scanning our huddle. "Anyone care to pilot the boat with me?" His gaze worked around the group until locking on mine.

  Now, here stood a Scot with excellent taste. The problem has to be related to the origin of the man. New Zealand verses Scotland. Scotland wins. Always.

  ****

  Murdo fought the need to shake the wanton Guinevere from his arm and strangle the life from the captain's son. By the Gods, that despicable man had boarded and propositioned the maidens, he seethed and gritted his teeth.

  "I'd like to go," Guinevere lilted.

  But some good could come from the proposition. Och! To regain an arm through sacrificing a female. Not a virginal one. But Todd doesn't seem to mind.

  Red and Katie turned accusing gazes toward Guinevere.

  What is that all about?

  "Come along then." Todd smiled, waving the wench in the direction of Skipper Liam.

  The vixen finally took his bait and released my arm.

  Naught proved more liberating. Looking out for the other two maidens would be easier without the taxing female hanging on my elbow.

  Red shrugged and settled down onto an upholstered bench.

  Katie moved to the bench opposite Red. "How long is their engagement?" she asked Red.

  Engagement? Guinevere betrothed? Never. Impossible.

  "One year." Red wagged her head, rolling her eyes. "It can't last."

  Ludicrous. That wanton vixen is after every man she lays eyes upon. Oh, to scrub my arm with lye. The blessed cleansing agent could strip hair off the wooliest arse.

  "It's insane." Katie slid across the seat, propped her elbow on the back of a bench, and viewed the loch.

  What could be insane-r than Guinevere betrothed? I descended beside Katie.

  Red shot me a smile. "How long are you in Scotland?"

  Oh, no reason to lie. "My stay could become permanent." That was a hard-to-chew mouthful of Truth. I fingered the hard bend in my sword.

  Red stretched her arms out upon the table in front of her, clutching her hands together. "Oh? You know Katie lives here." Her conspiratorial tone hinted at something else though.

  "Yes." Katie smiled, fixing her gaze on the wooden tabletop.

  With blue water yapping at the afternoon sky beyond her shoulders, she could make any man's heart thrash. How could a man think of anything else with such a beauty poised before him? Todd was a fool for wandering off with Guinevere. And a fool wouldn't keep his eyes peeled for astral-projecting Seers. There are things unfolding that Katie knows nothing about. Something reeked in Scotland. A Ring Master just had to bide his time to sniff out the carcass.

  ****

  Katie couldn't think of a better backdrop to the cruise than the whistling captain. Black Liam's whistle is flawless, she thought. Hands down. And now I chat with Murdo without Princess Guinevere's annoying interruptions. If only the pirate would kidnap Princess Slut. This magical little world would be perfect. But Black Liam just looked less and less evil. And Murdo might be staying permanently in Scotland? Time might show if he was actually a good guy. Might. He still causes too much confusion in his actions. But I can give him some time to prove he isn't a jerk.

  Pam began tapping her fingernails on the table
top to Black Liam's perky tune. "What do you do, Murdo?"

  Black Liam rustled with his back turned to the table in the kitchenette. His elbows worked as bottles clanked beyond our view.

  Murdo leaned into the leather bench's back. "I'm a pilot."

  Pam gave a slight nod of accomplishment. But then, wouldn't she certify the profession dignified given its prestige? She was a corporate executive after all. Corporate executives require the services of pilots.

  The Introspection's engine hummed to life and shimmied, edging us away from the pier.

  The skipper hefted something with the bottom of a bottle protruding beyond his upper arm.

  A type of bottle that Scotland is renowned for… Maybe the skipper has a wee bit of dark in him after all. "What are you up to, Black Liam?"

  Pam shot me a look of admonishment.

  Lord, had the nickname slipped out without the captain giving us permission to use it? I need to keep quiet.

  Black Liam chuckled, returning the bottle to the countertop with a chink. He eased about, smiling from ear to ear, his settling on me. "You took note of the sign, did you, now?"

  Good grief. I'd insulted him. "Aye." Hopefully, use of the vernacular will ease things over.

  Black Liam produced four tumblers filled with sloshing brown liquid and headed for the table. "Can't decide whether to tell you what I tell the young ones or just come clean." Without cracking so much as a smile, he placed the glasses on the tabletop and scooted each across, one by one, until each person had one to claim, reserving one for himself. "What's your preference, lasses?"

  Pam grinned. "What do you tell the kids?"

  "Och," he leaned his head back for a long gulp of the dark brew from his glass and smacked his lips in humble reverence of the libation before eyeing Pam. "I tell them I pirate the High Seas when tourism is slow."

  The cabin rumbled with laughter.

  What else can top that tale? "Come clean then. Tell us the truth." I hefted my cool tumbler.

  The pungent perfume of whisky nipped my nostrils.

  But it wouldn't steer my thoughts away from this confession. I took a sip, staring at Black Liam, ignoring the sharp alcoholic rancor of the drink.