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

  “We will go care for the horses and hunt for food,” Arianna interrupted, a wide grin on her face.

  “And we will set things aflame,” Alan assured with a wink.

  Caitriona rolled her eyes. “We will have a fire ready when you return.”

  Stephen and Arianna took each other’s hand. Their step was lighter and they seemed young lovers as they vanished down the path. “I hope they remember to be back before dusk.”

  “Oh, they will…just,” he murmured, trailing kisses down a surprisingly tender area just beneath and behind her ear. “But ‘twill not be the caring of the horses or the hunting that will slow them down.”

  Caitriona pulled away before she melted further into him. “Well, at least we can get done what we promised.”

  Alan shook his head and grabbed her hand. “Nay, not yet. There is time. Come. I want to show you something.”

  Every time he wanted to show her something it was an even more intimate location. Her resistance was weakening as it was. She stopped. “Nay. ‘Tis never so simple with you.”

  His brows arched. “Now lass, I will carry you if forced.”

  Dubious, she pulled her hand away and crossed her arms over her chest. “I said nay, Alan. I mean to stand by it.”

  “Well which way will you have it then? Over my shoulder or in my arms.”

  “Neither!” She said. “I dinnae want to see what you have to show and that is final.”

  “You dinnae want to see?” He shook his head and started toward her.

  There was no moving fast enough when this man gave pursuit. The cave flipped and the next thing she knew the floor was far below. Air puffed out of her lungs when her belly hit his shoulder.

  “You really thought over the shoulder the better of the two choices?” She gasped.

  “I wasnae the one given the choice. When you didnae make one, I made it for you.” His hand tightened on her backside. “Besides, this allows me to climb.”

  Climb! Oh no. She held on tight. As it was, he was taller than most men. There didn’t need to be more distance between her and the cave floor.

  “Dinnae worry. I willnae drop you.” He began climbing. “Yet.”

  It was impossible to see what he climbed as they moved up. Caitriona squeezed her eyes shut. “Bloody hell, Alan.”

  “Such language.” He squeezed her backside. “And all for naught had you just followed when asked.”

  “A little more debate over this might have been nice. You put in no effort to persuade,” she muttered.

  “Remember when we discussed our equal amounts of determination at the loch? I believed you. So why continue bantering?”

  Higher and higher he climbed. She wasn’t about to tell him that he might have convinced her otherwise. Upon reflection, perhaps she should have. At least then, she’d have a wee bit more control. But would that much matter? Wherever he brought her now there would be no easy escape from.

  If he set to seducing her she’d all but be trapped.

  What seemed far too much time later, he finally stopped climbing and stood. He took his time about lowering her, choosing to let her slide slowly down his long, hard body. Caitriona would be lying to herself if she said it was the climb that made her tremble. Nay, it was the highlander.

  His eyes sought hers, their dark depths churning with something quietly vicious and blatantly possessive. If any air was left, the last of it fled her lungs. He’d brought her someplace all his and he intended to make it all hers. Getting around him this time would mean trying to get past not only the warrior and chieftain but by his other side too, the seasoned wizard.

  “Did you truly think I would let you protect me forever?” he said softly.

  “I thought you would honor my wishes.”

  “Then you gave me too much credit.” He made no move to release her. “I would rather have you in every way a lad should have a lass then never to have had you, all for the sake of remaining alive. There will come a day when I battle alongside my clansmen and you willnae be there. If a blade is aimed true, what good will your healing do then? I would die without ever having known you as I should.”

  His words were moving, profound, troublingly convincing. As such, she had no rebuttal. And if she did it would be impossible to find the words through the fog of desire building inside her. Already, his magic stirred. It appeared the wizard would take the first stand against her fleeing.

  Ever so gentle, he pulled her hair away from her face and kissed the area above and between her eyes. “Share with me your gift. ‘Tis part of what we have together.”

  It was not just her maidenhead he spoke of but her magic, what was at the very core of her being. To merge their magic would be powerful, unusual, and life-enduring. The very concept made her nervous. When two people shared their gifts, the outcome was at best unpredictable. Could a healer’s gift trickle into another? And if so, would it not offer him more protection on the very battlefield he now threatened her with? Or would it harm him as a foreign disease would damage a healthy body?

  “Such heavy thoughts,” he murmured. “Let me show you what you have not seen.”

  Only when he pulled away did she realize that they stood on a ledge overseeing the cave. He climbed a good distance and the ground was far below. The cavern was even more beautiful from above. Mist brushed by her face and twirled down the sun beams. “Oh my!”

  Alan waved the view away and pulled her after him. “Not that, lass.”

  They walked down another small cave path before it opened up into what appeared a break in the mountainside. If that were not impressive enough, the tree that had grown its way into the large v-shaped crevice certainly was. With ancient, twisted limbs, it reached in and pressed against the rock wall, almost as if it were trying to climb its way into safety. A lowering sun trickled through the branches, splashing on large, green leaves.

  “‘Tis one of the oldest oaks in Scotland,” Alan said. “The roots are in the ground far below. Iain MacLomain always speculated that it survived as long as it did because the mountainside protects it from the brunt of the wind.”

  Caitriona could only put her hand over her mouth. Never had she seen anything so magnificent. As she imagined most would, she felt a protective connection to the tree. Almost as if she wanted to help it crawl inside entirely and help it escape the harsh Scottish climate. What a preposterous notion. A tree would not be a tree without its roots buried in the Earth.

  Alan walked further into…the tree!...toward the outside. “Iain and I and the others had many a mock swordfight around these very branches.” His voice turned reflective. “Long before we all became lairds and the weight of responsibility rested on our shoulders.”

  When she walked forward, Caitriona swore she felt the air change, grow warmer, thicker. Despite her impression of a somewhat desperate tree, there existed great peace here…and memories. It seemed almost that she could see young Alan swinging on a limb, swiping at his friends with a wooden stick. Like now, his black hair would have been striking against the vibrant sun filled leaves and near silver tone of the wizened branches.

  “This place suits you,” she whispered.

  Though she’d barely said it aloud, he heard. “And you.” He leaned against a branch and cocked his head, gaze startled. “‘Tis pulling your magic to the surface, lass. You glow and your eyes, that brilliant blue.”

  “‘Tis strange. I do feel it but I dinnae control it.” She ran her hand along the sometimes smooth, sometimes rough surface of the bark. “Yet I am not afraid. Whatever exists here does not seek to steal from me.”

  Caitriona looked at him, curious. “‘Tis a verra special tree.”

  He stepped up on a thick limb and held down a hand. “We used to hide in these branches. In fact, we buried treasure here. Let me show you.”

  Quick to remove her cloak for easier mobility, she tossed it aside and allowed him to pull her up. With every step she became more and more enraptured. Years subjected to the elements had for
med the branches into delicate arcs overhead and intricate walls of twisting branch and leaf. In addition, the rain and wind and snow had formed coves plush with moss. Filled with vibration, everything seemed to hum around her. Low, deep, but there was sound.

  “Do you hear it?” She whispered. “Feel it?”

  Alan shook his head, amazement evident in his ever intensifying gaze. “You appear a fairy in this tree.” He cupped her cheek. “So verra beautiful, enchanting.”

  She closed her eyes. “It might sound vain of me but I feel beautiful. So alive.”

  Now both of his hands cupped her cheeks, his warm breath fanning her skin when he spoke. “I have never met a less vain creature.”

  When she opened her eyes his were filled with magic. Ethereal, his gaze went from near black to a swirling mist of light gray, matching the limbs around them. Caitriona never realized just how much power he had until she looked into them here in this place. “But there are green flecks too,” she murmured without meaning to.

  “As are there in yours,” he replied softly. “‘Tis the third magic reflecting. Yours, mine—” He nodded to the tree. “And its.”

  Caitriona nodded, emotion clogging her throat. There was great love here, not only between her and Alan but whatever ancient magic flowed around them. The need to try to make sense of it was non-existent. Though his eyes lingered long on her lips he did not kiss her.

  “Not yet,” he whispered. “Treasure first.”

  A small smile tugged at her lips. Was he not treasure enough?

  There was no denying him though. With the step and pure disposition of a child at play he leapt away and crouched in front of a spot where the main trunk branched off to others. “It has been a verra long time since I was last here.” He grinned over his shoulder. “Iain gave me a good battle over this one. Even used my own sharpened sword against me. In the end I won and got to hide this.”

  She couldn’t help but smile and crouched down beside him. “You mean sharpened stick.”

  Incredulous, he said, “Nay, real swords, lass!”

  Alright, she would humor him. “You must have been verra brawny lads indeed.”

  His chest puffed up some. “Aye!” Then he shrugged and muttered, “Though they may have been daggers. As I said, ‘twas a long time ago.”

  “Regardless.” She put her hand on his shoulder and nodded where his hand lay. “What is there?”

  Eager, he moved aside dried leaves and felt around. “Where is it?” He murmured, brows furrowing. At last, a smile broke over his face. “Ah.”

  Careful, he pulled out a small satchel and chuckled. Made of rawhide, it appeared to have withstood time quite well. She could only envision what might be in it. Perhaps some rare precious Scottish gems. Why not? The boys had been important even in their youth and the Lord knew young boys could find mischievousness wherever they went. Had they all stolen a little something from their castles and made a pact that they’d one day come back for them?

  Alan sat and pulled her down next to him. With a whimsical tone he said, “For some reason I thought they would vanish.” His smile grew wider. “But the gods didnae let me down.”

  “Why would they?” She said softly and nodded at the satchel. “So what is in it?”

  His eyes widened and he spoke as though he were about to show her something very special indeed. “Someone lost. Someone found. And someone made.”

  She shook her head. “I dinnae ken.”

  “What is in this pouch we created for Iain’s clan, the MacLomains. War came to his doorstop more than ours that year.” Alan sighed. “I remember how troubled he grew. Men were going off to war never to be seen again. Others would be found but broken, inside and out. Families in the clan were still made but ‘twas a rare thing in those days. It seemed there were never enough lads left for the lasses. One way or another, ‘twas not all that different than what all of our clans experienced eventually.”

  “That sounds terrible,” she replied.

  “‘Twas the way in the highlands. The Sassenach brought trouble even then.” He said the word ‘Sassenach’ as though it soured his tongue. “Though it was not them who caused the direct trouble they certainly led to it. If we Scots didnae fight enough before they came we most certainly did after.”

  Caitriona waited as he worked through his anger. Alan, however, did not dwell on anything too long and soon turned his attention back to the satchel waiting patiently in his hand. “So we created a game.” He shook his head. “Nay, it was really more of a way to help Iain vent his frustration.”

  They stole jewelry to help Iain vent his frustration?

  Alan picked up a twig and rubbed it between his fingers, thoughtful. “We knew we were wizards though we knew little of how to use the gift. This tree was our verra first attempt at using our gift without help from an elder.”

  Such a tree would certainly be a good place to start…if supervised! There was such enormous power here.

  He held up the twig. “What we used for target was not much bigger than this.”

  “Target? ‘Tis a mere twig!”

  “That,” he said passionately, “was the point. If we were to seal the fate of the MacLomains it needed to be a true challenge.”

  A slither of trepidation crawled up her spine. “How did you boys think you would seal the fate of the MacLomains with a twig?”

  “With our swords, of course.”

  “You mean daggers.”

  He looked skyward briefly then said, “Sword. Dagger. It makes no difference to a young lad’s mind.”

  Caitriona took the stick from him and held it up. “Then get on with it. Tell me what you did.”

  “What we did.” He nodded toward the trunk of the tree. “I stuck a twig against the tree vertically and proposed that we all compete with sword until it had been split into three separate sticks. Aim with honor but always keep in mind what you aimed for, the first of course, to win. The second was to bring back to his clan what had been taken from them. Someone lost to replace all those lost in battle. Someone found to recognize all those returned. And someone with great power to oversee and honor the marriages and new families made as a result.”

  Caitriona tried to keep her expression level but however well-intentioned it all sounded so irresponsible. “So in essence you made a demand of your gods in a childish game of daggers.”

  “Iain MacLomain like Adlin MacLomain has always worshiped the one god. Nay, we sought justice for Iain’s clan. ‘Twas not a game to wound others but one only to call goodness upon him and his.”

  Caitriona rolled the stick between her fingers. Nay, they had asked directly of the gods and the gods in turn answered. “You know better than to believe your own words.” She again nodded at the satchel. “You need to open it.”

  Alan’s brows came together. “What alarms you, lass?”

  “Do you really not know?” Caitriona touched the moss at her side. “This place, this tree, ‘tis nothing natural about it, not in the correct sense anyway. If you made a pact or demands of anything beyond this plane at this location, it was heard and it has or will come to pass.”

  Mildly exasperated, Alan shook the contents of the satchel into his palm. Three tiny slivers of twig fell out. “‘Tis but the twig I put against the tree divided.”

  Of course it was. Not jewels stolen. Not lives destroyed. Nay, nothing but simple twigs. His treasure. She leaned forward and studied them, surprised. “You saved them.”

  “Aye, ‘twas the whole point.”

  But her gift stirred stronger the more she looked at them. “You won the contest, aye?”

  “Iain will tell you to this day ‘twas him but aye, I won. Mine was the last sword to cut.”

  She held out her hand and he dropped them into her palm. When he did warmth spread over her. Relief flooded. There was nothing bad or evil in these. Whatever had been said or done that day was with the best intentions and would always come to good. But something would or did come out of these, of th
at she was certain.

  “So one is for those lost, one for those found and one for those made.”

  “Aye.” Alan maintained his smile. “I suppose we will never know if they did much good for Iain MacLomain and his clan but at least it made him happy that day. Little else mattered.”

  Caitriona tucked them safely back into the satchel. “If what you did made him happy then they did verra good indeed I suppose.”

  Though Alan’s grin had dimmed some he still seemed content enough. “Aye, it did. And in the end not one of us got the prize.”

  “What was the prize for winning?”

  Alan set aside the satchel and leaned his head back against a tree limb, a chuckle escaping his lips. “When Iain didnae win, the grand prize became his sister, Murial MacLomain.”

  Catrionna couldn’t help but round her eyes. “No!”

  “Aye!”

  “Poor lass. How did all that turn out?” She was careful to keep her expression light. The idea that Alan was or would be married had not for a second entered her mind. “Did you marry her?”

  “Nay! Right then and there, the moment I knew I won I gave my winnings to David MacMillan. He loved her even at that age. Of course she never knew Iain had promised her to David when they were only bairns. He maintained that he’d done it years later. But I knew the truth of it.”

  Caitriona shook her head. “You were so young. Why would you turn away such a prize? Did you not worry it would offend Iain?”

  “Not in the least. I never played the game to win his sister. David and he were verra close. It all made good sense.” He winked at her. “And got me out of marrying a lass years before I knew what she would look like when fully grown.”

  “Terrible!” She scoffed but couldn’t help but smile. “And how did she end up looking?”

  Alan scowled. “Sinfully bonnie I’m afraid.”

  “Aye?” She asked.

  “Aye.” He shook his head. “When a bairn, her ears were too big for her head and her feet too big for her legs. I thought myself clever in giving away the grand prize.”