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

“I will help you find food, Laird Stewart,” she said automatically.

  “Nay.” Her devotion unnerved him. “I would prefer you care for yourself. ‘Twould be best.”

  Once settled for the eve he intended to ask her some overdue questions.

  Her submissive eyes lingered on his several seconds before she nodded. “Aye.”

  Alan was glad she listened. Though it had been an impressive thing to see her stand strongly in the fight, now it was time for her to be young again. She deserved none of this. Blade in hand, he went hunting. To find and kill game in this land proved easy. Yet discontented thoughts churned. Why was he truly here? Would he be able to return home? Traveling through time was not such a far-fetched idea. After all, Iain had done it. Still, Alan did not much like the complete lack of control he felt.

  Above all concerns, however, was the lack of warning. Why hadn’t his magic let him know this was about to happen? True, he was not a terribly powerful wizard, but magi should have hinted at all of this.

  When he returned it was with a few rabbits and a determined face. Stephen appeared bathed as he sat against a tree, eyes to the water. Alan threw the game at his feet and said, “‘Tis time to skin and cook.”

  “Aye,” Stephen said, his eyes still glued. “What is she to you exactly?”

  “She who?”

  “The lass.”

  He set aside his weapons. “I have yet to ken that, lad. No need to worry though, I will keep the bairn safe.”

  Stephen cocked a brow at him. “Bairn? Nay. She is no bairn.”

  It was only meant to be a glance to assure his clansman that was exactly what she was but his gaze became ensnared. Trapped. ‘Twas not a bairn hunched by the stream but a lass he had never before seen. Like an angel, her long dark hair hung in loose tendrils over her narrow shoulders and slim body, dampened by a slip of a dress that showed true that she was indeed no bairn. Caitriona possessed the body of a woman. Her curves were slight but there, young but enticing, her breasts, full and round.

  Alan swallowed and blinked.

  “No bairn,” Stephen repeated softly. “And you had no idea.”

  If he had been blind enough to miss a beautiful woman standing in front of him, then what else had he missed? Alan knew well that perception was a tricky thing and mistakes easily made. Yet, it seemed he was off his mark. Frustrated, he gathered wood and again ran over in his mind everything that had happened from the moment he’d met Caitriona. Aye, it was time for some answers. For a brief moment Alan considered allowing Caitriona her privacy and waiting until after they ate but dismissed the idea immediately. Questions needed answering and a lovely lass bathing proved too much to resist.

  “‘Tis time for a dip in the stream.” Alan pulled his tunic over his head as he walked toward Caitriona. If there was one skill he was blessed with above all else it was the ability to charm the lasses.

  But even as he approached an unexpected niggling of guilt grew. Mostly because of the startled glance she shot him. This lass was not used to a lad’s attention. Despite what he already knew to be true about her; Alan couldn’t seem to resist giving her a long, languid appraisal. It started at her trim little ankles, rose up those slender smooth legs, over her flat stomach and surprisingly ample cleavage to her lovely face. It just went against his grain to approach a bonnie lass any other way.

  Caitriona might be an innocent but the blush blossoming over her cheekbones and her wide-eyed stare made obvious that she knew he wasn’t looking at her the same way he had an hour before. Yet, despite her revelation, the lass clearly wasn’t beyond appreciating him without his tunic.

  But he could show mercy.

  Instead of removing his plaid right away, Alan leaned against a nearby boulder and crossed his arms over his chest. “I would say ‘tis time we spoke more about who you are and why you were with me when I awoke from what should have been my death.”

  Caitriona folded her hands together and nodded. Only the slight quiver of her lower lip betrayed her nervousness. “I suppose I should start with why I am here. There are two parts to it really.”

  “Either part will do.”

  “Of course,” she replied, her delicate fingers clenching together ever so slightly. “I was born in East Lothian in the year one thousand and seventy-two where I was raised by the Broun clan.”

  “Och, then you are from nearly a century in the past,” Alan muttered and shook his head.

  “Aye,” she said, a touch of sadness in her voice. “Nearly a year ago I began having this dream, well really more of a vision. I cannae say I am altogether sure which it was. Either way it haunted me day after day.” Caitriona’s lashes lowered a fraction and her voice softened. “You haunted me.”

  Alan quickly tried to ken what she spoke. Even as he replied the thought unnerved him. “‘Twas my misplaced spirit then?”

  “Aye,” she nodded, “but nay. You have always been very much alive to me… until of course you were dead.”

  Alan quirked a brow. “Which is it lass?”

  “Well, when you came to me it was always with the same words. It was always with the same,” a fresh blush stole over her cheeks, “unique urgency.”

  Despite his growing confusion, he found her shyness charming. “And what precisely does unique urgency mean?”

  Caitriona cleared her throat and suddenly took to looking anywhere but into his eyes. “You were perhaps a bit overly affectionate.”

  Alan couldn’t help but grin. Had this comely lass been having erotic dreams about him? “Could you be more specific?”

  Now the blush was making its way down her neck and staining her collarbones in a becoming sun kissed hue. “I am not sure how it is necessary to why we are here together now.”

  Oh, he did! “Even the smallest detail is important, lass.”

  Alan wondered if Caitriona realized one hand was twisting in the fabric of her dress when she said, “We were alone together somewhere dark but light all at once. You were holding me. Our eyes were locked…deeply locked somehow,” she trailed off.

  Well this didn’t sound all that erotic. He’d much rather be in her than holding her. “And?”

  She blinked several times and her gaze flickered to his. “We were without clothing.”

  Now this was something. And though he’d known her for a short period of time he was quickly becoming captivated by her ability to be terribly shy one moment, and quite forthright the next. This was certainly a trait that would keep her from becoming boring. Though, in truth, he rarely found a lass dull. They all possessed a little something special.

  Before he could reply, and he intended to tell her just what he thought of that, she said, “You were whispering to me though I am not entirely certain your lips moved. You spoke of Iosbail and Adlin MacLomain. You told me that through them I would find you and when I did that you would be dying. Only I would be able to save you. You were convinced of it.”

  The plot thickens. She knew of Adlin and Iosbail? And he had told her of them? Better yet…she saved him? Quick understanding came. How he woke in her arms on the cliff. He never should have awoken. He’d stepped in front of Caitlin Seavey, taken the dagger meant for her, mere moments before she and Ferchar MacLomain vanished.

  “They are far in the future now,” she said softly.

  “Who?”

  “Your friends. Caitlin and Ferchar. They are safe.”

  Alan strode so quickly through the water that Caitriona instinctively leaned back against the rock, eyes wide. Her eyes grew even wider when he held her arms and asked, “How do you know of them, lass?” He searched her eyes. “Who are you exactly?”

  Her lower lip again started to quiver. “I am, was, a lady’s maid, ‘tis all,” she whispered, “until I became more.”

  Her skin was icy beneath his touch. “More? I dinnae ken.”

  “I barely do myself.” She gulped. “It seems I have the ability to heal. And since the first time I healed new abilities have surfaced. I can sense things
such as danger.”

  Alan rarely used his gift around anybody, never mind a lass he had only just met, but now he did. Distress flooded Caitriona’s eyes as his gaze strengthened and changed. He saw precisely what she was in an instant and exclaimed, “You are a mystic.”

  Caitriona now seemed paralyzed with fear.

  Alan withdrew his magi but did not release her arms. Instead he stroked them gently. “Do you know how rare you are?”

  She whispered, “I am simply a lady’s maid.”

  “There is nothing simple about you, lass. And know this, according to the gods, you rank far above a mere mortal lady, even a queen or king.”

  “Mere mortal,” she mouthed, her plush lips still quivering. “I think I much prefer mere mortals.”

  Honestly, he didn’t blame her. At least not right now if she was only newly into her powers. Gone were thoughts of lust. In their place, a newborn respect. There was no greater gift the gods could bestow on mankind than a genuine healer. Alan now understood that if she was sent to him then there was indeed a preordained reason. But what?

  There were many more questions to be asked but now was not the time. “We need to get you warmed and fed.”

  Caitriona frowned. “Perhaps now would be the time to ask you to allow me some privacy, my Laird.”

  He repressed a grin. She had some spunk. “Aye, of course.”

  A mix of emotions crossed her face before she turned away. It was one of those moments in his life Alan would never forget, mainly because he’d just had a good glimpse of how assuming he’d always been with the lasses. They were becoming creatures in which to flirt with and then bed. Even with Caitlin Seavey he’d meant such despite Ferchar’s claim on her. And then he’d assumed the same here now with Caitriona. As soon as he realized she was no bairn but a wee bonnie lass, he hadn’t thought twice about making her his…at least for an eve.

  And to think, this time he’d assumed such of a mystic!

  Aye, she deserved her privacy.

  A bit further down the river, he finished washing and then returned to the fire. The rabbits were skinned and cooked. Stephen Broun sat quietly, his gaze lost in the flames.

  “We will start out early,” Stephen said without looking at him. “This is my clan’s land but that doesnae mean ‘tis without harm.”

  Alan nodded, his thoughts roiling. He knew already that time-travel was not to his liking. “If we traveled back but eleven years that means that I am alive here but younger, aye? What of that?”

  Stephen took a deep breath and nodded. “Aye, but you are far north in your holding. ‘Tis highly unlikely you will cross paths with yourself.”

  “I would rather not.” Alan eyed the younger man. “But as I am sure you ken, I am concerned first about Caitriona’s welfare. We need to be returned to our own time as soon as possible if not immediately.”

  Stephen’s eyes remained on the flame. “You know as well as I that the gods will stay true to her.”

  Aye, they would indeed. “So we travel to the Broun clan holding. What will your chieftain make of this? Of us?”

  “You are of my clan, a relative from the northern reach. Chieftain Tamas is of good enough mind. He willnae question it.”

  “Nay? Times are violent. No clansman trusts another yet your chieftain will without question?”

  Stephen leaned forward and stoked the fire. “Aye, I am to be trusted.”

  Alan eyed the man. “So he knew you traveled forward in time.”

  “Nay.” He shook his head sharply. “But he did know I was on a journey for a fortnight.”

  “A fortnight?” Alan crouched and rested his elbows on his knees. “Mayhap for him. How long was it for you then?”

  The Broun clansman’s eyes met his and Alan had his answer. They were full of sadness and longing. His journey, for whatever reasons he’d taken it, had lasted far longer than it should have…at least for him.

  No matter, Alan remained frustrated. Stephen knew more about why Alan was here than he himself did. That did not sit well. Or was it all a matter of Caitriona needing to be here and the gods desired that he escort and keep her safe? A strange warmth coursed through him at the thought. A certain rightness. The idea of becoming her protector held an undeniable and much unexpected thrill.

  “So now you know how important she is,” Stephen said quietly.

  When Alan looked up he found the Broun’s eyes on his. “Aye, it seems I do. And how do you know such, lad?”

  Though there should have been a chuckle alongside his inquiry, there wasn’t. “Need you ask when we both know Adlin MacLomain?”

  Good point. Regardless. “The more I know the better.”

  Stephen sighed but continued. “Fairly simple. I have the gift of foresight. Or should I say it has me. It comes when it will. I cannae control it. In this case, I foresaw the death of my lass so I sought out Adlin. As we both know his powers are great. In this case, I had something he wanted and as it turned out he had something I wanted. So an exchange was made. I helped him. He helped me.”

  Caitriona was what Stephen needed of Adlin. But what did Adlin need from Stephen? Intrigued, he leaned forward. “What could the old wizard possibly need from you?”

  The Broun grimaced when he said, “Someone who could gain the trust of Angus MacLeod.”

  Alan’s mouth turned sour. The Broun must truly love his lass to agree to such.

  “And someone to lead Caitlin Seavey to safety.”

  Now this caught Alan’s attention. “Seems you didnae do such a great job. I had to take a dagger for her.”

  Stephen’s brows arched. “But is she not now safe? And is Caitriona not now here with us?”

  Alan wondered at the similarities in the two women’s names. Was that not a sign from the gods? “Though I trust you naught, ‘tis impossible not to thank you. Caitlin Seavey was…special.”

  “Mmm, but not nearly as special as Caitriona I’m thinking,” Stephen said, his astute gaze still locked on Alan.

  Before he could respond, the aforementioned lass appeared. Again, Alan was ensnared by her simple but startling beauty. This woman needed no face paint or fancy garments. A basic dress and a plaid wrapped over her shoulders were stunning. He studied the contours of her face. Aye, her Norman blood shone through in the fragile curve of her cheek and the well-sculptured but slightly thicker than fashionable cut of her brows. But the Scot was clear in the stubborn set of her chin and kissable curves of her lips. Alan imagined he could stare at her for years and still find desirable attributes.

  Caitriona said nothing as she ate. On occasion her glance would flicker between the two men but never for long. Alan speculated her mind must surely be in turmoil, yet only calm seemed to emanate from her. Whether she was simply finding peace in her new gift or her new gift was masking her anxiety was impossible to tell.

  When finished eating, she wrapped the plaid tighter around her shoulders and leaned back against a log. Though he sensed she had questions, Caitriona remained silent and within mere minutes nodded off. Alan knew all too well how exhausting magic could be when used. What he didn’t know was how tiring it could be when only first ignited within a mystic.

  Alan took first watch while Stephen rested. Though he always had an eye to the forest, he spent several hours studying the lass across the fire. Though newborn, his need to protect her seemed to grow evermore even as he watched. So when a slight shiver rippled over her shoulders, he didn’t hesitate to readjust her plaid. And when Stephen took his watch, it seemed most natural to lay her down and wrap his body around hers.

  Regrettably, Alan forgot he cuddled an innocent.

  Chapter Two

  It took but a blink of early dawn light for Caitriona to realize exactly where she was and exactly who was at her back. And it took all of two blinks to realize exactly what his body wanted of hers. Had it been a fortnight ago she might have shied away in embarrassment. However, two things had happened since.

  The first, she’d come to k
now Iosbail MacLomain, one of the most powerful, self-assured Scotswomen ever to exist. The second, she wasn’t half the innocent she had lead everyone to believe she was… even her good friend, Iosbail.

  Sometimes, when put in the right position with the right person supporting you, even a simple lass could become exactly who everybody needed her to be.

  So, as she knew would be expected of her, Caitriona released a proper squeal and sat upright. “Oh, Dear Lord!”

  As suspected, Alan sat up as well with a ready apology. No surprise. After all, his thick erection had been pressed against her well and good.

  When she stood abruptly his guilty eyes met hers. It was easy to look away in embarrassment because in all truth, she felt such. Alan was not nearly the lad she’d dreamt of for so long. No, not at all. But much better. He was proving far more exceptional and up to the task than she ever would have imagined.

  “Are you all right then, lass?” Came a gentle voice.

  Stephen Broun’s eyes met hers and for a mere moment Caitriona wondered if he didn’t see right through her. But surely he could not know. Unless, of course, Adlin MacLomain had told him. Yet even that seemed unlikely because Adlin had told her shortly after she started dreaming about Alan that her destiny must remain a secret. Even his sister Iosbail must never know.

  So when it came that Caitriona finally did meet Iosbail for the first time, she began her role as a timid, lowland lass embarking on an adventure beyond her wildest imagination. That adventure, naturally, was the very same that smoothly led her right to Alan Stewart when he would need her most. Then again, she suspected the adventure and all its participants were well under the mischievous yet well-intentioned guidance of Adlin MacLomain himself.

  It had not been hard to play a shy lass when with Iosbail and with Alan Stewart it came even easier. So Caitriona gave Stephen a quick nod to show she was well and accepted the offered meat.

  “‘Twas not my intention to startle you, lass, only protect,” Alan said. His dark eyes though turbulent contained an unmistakable twinkle.

  Caitriona nodded. If there was one thing she knew about Alan Stewart it was that his fondness for the lassies was remarkable. While he most assuredly lied next to her with protection in mind, sensual thoughts would always be at the forefront of his subconscious. It was an easy thing to blush under his drowsy morning appraisal. She imagined that would never change.