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

  “One of my sisters married a Sinclair in this verra castle. I remember the day well.” He pointed at one of the highest turrets overlooking the moat. “I was only fifteen winters at the time but still managed to get pushed off that.”

  Caitriona winced then smiled. “Dare I ask how you managed such a feat?”

  Innocent, he said, “I had but a dance with a wee Sinclair lass.”

  “Just a dance?”

  “Aye, but as it turned out she was spoken for by the first in command.”

  “That seems quite the punishment for a dance.”

  “One would think. But nay, he threw me. These Sinclair’s are a rowdy bunch.”

  “Did he drag you all the way up there then?”

  Alan grinned. “Nay, she did. ‘Tis where he found us.”

  “Now you try to make me jealous,” Caitriona admonished.

  He leaned close and wrapped his arm around her back. “And is it working?”

  “Do you want it to be?” She asked, the devil in her eyes.

  Sinclair clansmen were riding out to meet them, one ahead of the rest. With hair as black as Alan’s and a wide encompassing smile, the lad slid off his horse, his long-legged gait bringing him ever closer.

  Caitriona’s face lit up. “It cannae be!”

  Before Alan had a chance to ask her who he was, his lass was off and scooped up by the man. He swung her a few times, laughing the whole time. Alan ground his jaw as the man set her down and held her at arm’s length, his bright eyes sweeping over her face. “How I have missed you, my wee Caitriona! The only lassie I should’ve never let get away!”

  Then his hands cupped her cheeks and his lips covered her own.

  Chapter Ten

  No matter how quick the peck from an old friend, Caitriona felt Alan’s discontent. She immediately introduced them. “Alan, this is Shamus Flanagon, Alexander’s good friend. He traveled with Alexander, Iosbail and I. Shamus, this is Alan Stewart, my love.”

  Shamus continued smiling while they shook hands. Alan’s expression was far from cordial.

  “Alan Stewart. Yours was a name that was on Caitriona’s lips often. You are a lucky man to have caught the heart of such a lass,” Shamus said.

  The Irishman seemed unaffected by Alan’s turbulent eyes.

  “Aye, I am,” Alan replied. “I intend to marry her.”

  Caitriona’s stomach flipped. Her heart clenched. If only his gods would allow it.

  Shamus continued grinning. Caitriona sensed that he knew he’d riled up Alan. She had to wonder why. But now would not be the time to find out. As if to smooth the way, the Irishman turned to her and said, “I never thought to see you again. You will have to meet my new wife. She has heard much about you.”

  Shamus walked on one side of Caitriona, Alan the other.

  “Wife! ‘Tis good news indeed,” she said. “You well deserve a good lass.”

  The Irishman looked at Alan. “The last time I saw you, you lay dying. It seems as she did for me, Caitriona saved your life.”

  The Stewart’s sharp gaze went from Shamus to Caitriona. “Did she then?”

  She nodded. “Not so much his life but his arm.”

  Shamus rubbed the limb. “I would have missed it.”

  Alan seemed to have settled some. It still struck her rather odd to have this incredible man so protective of her. They did, without doubt, belong to one another now. It felt as if every place they went and every person they came across, even Shamus, pushed them closer and closer together. Caitriona almost felt as though each and every step on this journey had long since been written in a very precise way to get them to whatever this prophecy became.

  The Irishman didn’t stay with them much longer and left with a twinkle in his eye and a promise of a dance that eve. Pensive, Alan said. “I do believe via magic he heard our words earlier.”

  “Our words?”

  “Aye, your friend has a verra passive way of telling me not to speak of other lassies when with you.”

  Surprised, Caitriona looked up at Alan. “Ah, so your days of telling me tales of being thrown from the Sinclair turret are over?”

  Alan shrugged but his eyes had grown merrier. “I suppose they better be.”

  “Well then, I suppose my days of kissing Irishmen must be behind me as well.”

  Adlin came alongside and nodded at the Sinclair castle. “It appears we might have found Caitriona’s stone.”

  They looked at the MacLomain, confused.

  “There.” He nodded toward a corner of the castle where they had begun to replace the wood with stone. “‘Tis facing in the direction of Ireland. Do you see it?”

  Caitriona grasped Alan’s hand.

  Clear as day, the stone had only been partially laid, its pattern closely resembling that of a woman’s profile. The shadows of the different color stone even made it seem her eyes were lovelorn as she gazed toward a land far away.

  “Bloody hell, look at that,” Alan said. “That has to be Caitriona’s rock.”

  “Found here at the Sinclair castle,” Adlin said. “Who would have thought?”

  “Besides their wizards, there is no great magic here that I know of,” Alan said. “But why else would Fionn want us to find this?”

  “Mayhap ‘tis not magic we are meant to find but something else. We will have to explore further.”

  As they walked over the first drawbridge, Caitriona found that while she anticipated spending the eve in the company of good friends, the pull to the north only grew stronger. “We must not stay on too long.”

  “Nay, I feel it too,” Alan replied. “An eve at most.”

  Adlin shook his head. “Despite your inclination, no matter how strong, Fionn wanted us here for good reason. That construction is an important piece of your prophecy.”

  The Sinclair clan greeted them as warmly as the Brouns had. She and Alan were given their own chamber, a large room with decent sized windows instead of arrow slits. When at last they were alone, Caitriona looked out one of those very windows. “There can be no surprise in this.”

  “What?” Alan came behind her, his hands braced on either side of the sill.

  She pointed down. “We overlook a portion of the construction seen from the other side.”

  “It again looks as if a lass,” he remarked.

  Caitriona leaned back against him, comforted as always by his large body. “Does it not seem overly coincidental that we would be so close?”

  “This is the room I was always given when I visited the Sinclairs. That alone makes me think the gods are at work.” He pulled aside her hair and kissed her neck. “It pleases me to have you here in this room. I want you everywhere I ever was and wherever I will be.”

  “Soon enough, I think, we will be able to start our life together.” Caitriona pushed the prophecy from her mind. “Mayhap have a bairn.”

  Alan pressed against her, aroused, his hands sliding under her cloak, his warm lips kissing her neck then trailing along her collarbone. “Many bairns.”

  He groaned when a light rap came at the door. It was Adlin. He’d apparently changed quickly and looked quite dashing in the Sinclair colors. His amused gaze went from Alan to Caitriona. “You must wash up and join me. There will be time enough for lust later.”

  “We have walked all day. Is there not time for a bit of rest first?” Alan said.

  “Lust,” Adlin repeated and nodded at the wash basin. “Is what you consider rest, Stewart. But if we dinnae explore this construction soon we might not get the opportunity.” It was clear he thought of spending time with Mildred. “At least not with my assistance.”

  Adlin MacLomain had always been forthright to a fault. Even when young it seemed. Caitriona nodded. “Of course, you are right. We will be out soon.”

  Though Adlin turned away when she shut the door, Caitriona knew he would not go far. And if the MacLomain wizard felt urgency about this, so too did she.

  Alan, however, wasn’t about to be overly rushed. He
took his time undressing her and even more time helping her wash, every swipe of the cloth enflamed, its placement purposeful and thorough. Not once did he kiss her. He didn’t need to. His every touch cherished and his words were soft and murmured, descriptive. By the time he was finished her body was afire with need.

  Another tap at the door from Adlin. “I am not above overseeing if it keeps the lust at bay.”

  Caitriona groaned this time. “He really is meddlesome.”

  “Aye.” Alan sighed and dried her off. While she began dressing, he washed. Caitriona was so busy watching him that she managed to tie all her sashing’s wrong.

  Though he’d dried off, he remained nude as he helped her readjust. She whispered, “You are cruel.”

  His lips curled slightly, his eyes seductive. “In the best ways possible.”

  Once she was fully dressed, he threw on his own plaid, a tunic, a rich, red cloak and black boots better suited to this climate. His eyes never once left her. “You are a vision, lass.”

  The dress Alexander had provided was lovely, decadent. A rich velvet, it was dark blue with deep violet interwoven. The bodice was low, giving all an ample view of her cleavage. The waist cinched, flattering and promoting curves she wasn’t entirely sure were really there.

  “And this.” Alan held up a luxurious purple cloak. “Made for such a bonnie lass.” His appreciative gaze slid down her body. “Though I am not sure I want to cover such beauty.”

  When Adlin’s tap came again, Alan shook his head and wrapped the cloak over her shoulders. “But it seems I have no choice. At least for now.”

  The MacLomain was pacing by the time they opened the door. His exasperated eyes met theirs. “‘Tis nearly dark. Hopefully, what we seek will not be lost in shadow.”

  Caitriona peered down the darkening hallway, now lit by wall torches. “Alan, you know this castle. Is there a back way out to the construction?”

  “Aye.” He grabbed a torch and led them down the hallway then down spiral stairs. “The construction is at the bottom of this tower.”

  When they exited it was at the foot of what they’d viewed from a distance. At this range, it looked nothing like a woman. From this proximity it was simply a wall made of wood and stone.

  “It doesnae look like much at all,” she remarked.

  Adlin and Alan studied the wall, running their hands along it, both seeking with magic.

  “I feel nothing,” Alan said. “Do you?”

  The MacLomain shook his head. “Nay. But that doesnae mean something is not here.”

  Caitriona looked at the moat alongside then the forest beyond. “It must take a great deal of work to get these stones quarried and brought over.”

  Adlin made a noncommittal grunt as he crouched and studied the castle’s foundation. Alan looked past the forest to the mountain beyond. “Aye, they get the rock from there.”

  Caitrona felt a spark. “Is that not the verra same direction of Ireland?”

  Adlin slowly came to his feet and turned, thoughtful. “‘Tis indeed.” His wise eyes narrowed on her. “Do you feel the pull?”

  Alan and Caitriona nodded.

  “I believe we will find nothing more at the Sinclairs,” Adlin said assuredly. “This night we will rest and tomorrow, set out for the quarry. There we will find more answers.”

  He was right. She felt it in her bones. “Should we not leave now?”

  “Nay, Adlin is right,” Alan said. “We need rest. ‘Tis best to travel when refreshed.”

  “We would be remiss not to take the opportunity afforded us here,” Adlin confirmed. “Despite how desperate we all are to find our way home.”

  Alan handed the torch to Adlin and took her hands. “Let us take this time and start out on the morn. I want one eve with you inside the protection of these walls. We need some normalcy, a good meal and a warm bed.” He leaned in close and whispered in her ear. “I want to feel you in my arms not in or against a tree, but by torchlight and candle and beneath twisted blankets.”

  A delicious shiver of anticipation rolled through her. Still, the way he said it worried her. Did he feel the same, odd finality coming that she did? Their answers were not far off. Then they would either no longer be alive or they would start a new life together. The former option was too agonizing. So for this eve they would talk of simple things. What life might be like, no, what life would be like when they returned back to the Stewarts.

  Caitriona ran her hand down the glorious cloak and felt the alluring dress against her skin. “‘Twould seem awful to let such fine clothes go to waste.”

  “‘Tis agreed then,” Adlin said, vanishing back up the stairwell before they could reply.

  But they weren’t really listening anyway. As they stood there, he in full Highland regalia and she in a billowing lady’s gown, near the moat at the foot of the Sinclair castle, the two were never more lost in one another.

  Alan appeared enthralled as he pulled on the purple hood. “You may be many things, a lowland Broun, a Norman lass, even perhaps a demi-god, but right now with the mountains behind you and the moon in your hair you are every bit my Highland mystic. That description, above all, suits you best.”

  Caitriona stood on tip-toe and pulled his lips down to hers.

  She felt like his mystic, even perhaps a Highlander, at least while in his arms.

  The kiss he gave her was long, unconstrained, filled with passion and promise and a new adventure right in this very castle. One she knew they would take with them. These precious few moments would sustain them, whether in this life or the next.

  A low whistle came from high above. When they looked up it was to Arianna and Stephen looking back down. The Broun lass grinned, her long hair blowing in the wind like fire, highlighted by the torch flames. “Look at you both, a fine pair.”

  Alan, his mood lighter than it had been in some time, smiled up. “And it seems you are dressed to dance as well.”

  “‘Tis dark down there. Did you not bring a torch to find your way back?” Stephen said.

  “‘Nay, ‘tis always better to get lost with a wee bonnie lass in a dark castle such as this,” Alan replied, his playful gaze on her. “One needs to feel their way along.”

  Arianna laughed and waved them up. “Come, meet us in the great hall. ‘Tis music and food. A grand affair indeed!”

  Alan nodded. “We will be there.”

  But again he didn’t mean to rush. Instead, he took her hand. “Let us walk around the castle. ‘Tis always been the best time of year for it. The snow is nearly here, the air cold enough to keep the moat a tad fresher.”

  Though dark it was still light enough to see and with Alan as her guide their stroll, even if along a moat, was enjoyable. He showed her which walls he’d climbed and all the nooks and crannies most would not see at the base of the backside of a castle.

  He also took the time to ask her questions.

  “‘Tis an interesting thing that you were raised by a witch yet you follow the one God. Though it doesnae matter, I remain curious why,” Alan said.

  “Then it does matter,” she replied evenly. “Like you, Ma worshiped the old gods. As she raised me to believe in them, I didnae take issue with the deities themselves. ‘Twas just never my calling. Aye, I am a healer, but like Adlin, it has always been acceptable to worship the one God.”

  “As it should,” Alan said, his expression pensive. “What happened to your Ma, Caitriona?”

  Melancholy enveloped her. Though she didn’t want to speak of it, Alan deserved to hear everything. “As you know, not all clans believe in our gift. After I killed my Da and she decided it best we leave, those along the way didnae think so highly of her craft.” Caitriona paused at the corner of the castle and stared unseeing out over the forest. “They burned her at the stake. ‘Twas when Adlin came along and took me with him.”

  Alan said nothing for a time, only wrapped his arms around her.

  Caitriona knew what he was thinking so she spoke. “‘Aye, ‘
twas around that time that I became angry with the gods for taking her from me, for making people so bloody ignorant. And aye, Adlin was there to teach me of the one God. But when he did he always made sure that I understood that the old gods were still there, that all the gods could co-exist. Religion need not tear this country apart. No god would want that.”

  “He might be meddlesome, but none are wiser,” Alan conceded. “The MacLomain always had my respect but now he has my heartfelt thanks. Had he not found you, Caitriona, your verra nature might be so different at this moment.”

  Though dark, she could make out Alan’s face. “Why do you say you will marry me when ‘tis not the old way? I dinnae want you to go against your beliefs for me.”

  He stroked her shoulders and back, the sensation wonderfully relaxing. “Did Adlin not share with you Fionn’s prophecy? And when he did, were you in any doubt of the god’s existence?”

  “Well, of course not. ‘Tis half the reason I dinnae judge you. I know the new god and old gods co-exist.”

  “Then why now ask me if I go against my beliefs?” Alan again kissed the spot above and between her eyes. “Through you, I know the same. As such, I know my gods would approve any bind I make with you, no matter the deity who oversees. True love is such that any divine creature would approve its development, its verra nourishment.” He brushed his lips over hers. “If you believe in marriage, so too shall I.”

  With nothing but dark shadows, three mysterious rings in a satchel and the Sinclair castle to cast witness, Alan took her hands and sank to one knee. “Caitriona Devereux, I love you so completely. With only the eyes of the old gods and your one god to watch over this union, will you marry me?”

  A tear rolled down her cheek. Joy swelled her heart. “Aye, you know I will, Alan Stewart.”

  Alan pulled her down and she straddled his lap as his arms wound tightly around her. He laughed when he said, “I never thought leaning toward the one god would make me so happy.”