by Ria Cantrell
~
Chapter Twenty-Seven ~
Bronwyn stood back, aghast at what she had just heard and witnessed. Could it be possible that the son, she had only recently learned about now stood beside Morag? For a moment, she thought that the man was going to kill Morag, as he raised his sword like a trained warrior. Bronwyn knew that she would be too late to stop him, but as she approached the stones, she saw, with relief, that instead, he drove the sword into the sacred ground. Despite not harming Morag, Bronwyn could see, the man was deadly in his anger. She forced herself forward, only to hear the confession of Morag to this unlikely man, who was her son. How had he been brought back? The Soul seeks those who are a part of it. The wind whispered these words in Bronwyn’s ear and she shivered from the force of it. The Guardians were at work. She could feel it and somehow, this unlikely son of Bronwyn’s treasured mentor was going to change all of their lives.
Bronwyn’s legs finally loosened from the stiffness of her watch through the night. She moved toward the small group standing amid the circle of stones. She called out to let them know of her presence, “Morag, t’is I.”
Tom turned toward the sound of the woman’s voice. She resembled his lovely vision of the young woman he had kissed in his dreams but she was older; more like a woman in her forties. Had he come back too late?
“Jenna,” he murmured. Morag’s head whipped around and she said, “What do ye’ know of Jenna?”
Kiera answered hastily, “He…he saw her painting in the great hall. He does not know we are here to aid her.”
“Wait, what? You came back in time to aid Jenna? Why?”
“All will be explained. Come, we must leave this place now. The dawn is upon us.”
Morag got herself to her feet unsteadily and Bronwyn raced to her side to take her arm. Her face bore tear streaks and Bronwyn’s heart was moved to pity for the old woman who had sacrificed so much and only now was Bronwyn coming to understand that.
Tom looked at the woman helping Morag and he knew he had to say something. So many crazy things had happened in just a few days that he did not care if he looked foolish. “Don’t you remember me?”
“Pardon?”
“I thought you would remember me, but it must have been many years ago.”
Now the rest of the traveling party looked at Thomas as if he had truly gone mad. “Tommy, what are you doing? What are you talking about?”
“I believe I kissed this lady or at least, I think I did.”
“I assure ye’, sir, ye’ have nay e’er kissed me.”
“I’m sorry, Lady Jenna. I do apologize. It was in a dream that felt so real, and with all this other ….”
Bronwyn laughed, even though the situation looked like it was going from bad to worse.
“Jenna is my daughter, sir, and I dunna’ know where ye’ think ye’ met her, but if I know my daughter, ye’ would still bear the mark of her hand upon yer’ cheek if you had so much as greeted her.”
Tom remembered the other poor bastard that bore such a mark and he was glad that at least, in his dream, the lady Jenna had kissed him without the aforementioned violence that apparently Jenna was known for. He felt like such an idiot. This was the girl’s mother, and now he had gone and embarrassed her. He had to remember he wasn’t in the twenty-first century any more. There were many more formalities to be considered and he could not afford to be so bold.
At that statement, Bronwyn and Morag made eye contact and they shared some unspoken understanding. Remembering her station, Bronwyn introduced herself formally, saying, “I am Lady Bronwyn Brandham, daughter of the Chief and Laird of the clan MacCollum.”
Kiera elbowed Tom and she said, “Take her hand…”
“Ouch, I know.”
Tom took Bronwyn’s hand and placed a kiss upon it. He bowed slightly and said, “I am pleased to make your acquaintance. Please forgive my inappropriate behavior.”
“It is forgiven. And ye’ are?”
“I am Thomas Callum…er…Tavish.”
He looked at Morag and she nodded. “Tavish MacCollum…apparently, I am this woman’s son.”
“Aye, so it would seem. And the lady?”
“My lady, I am Kiera Campbell.”
“Ahhh, the one who tamed the wild Derek. Your sister through marriage is one of my most treasured friends.”
“My sister…Derek’s sister?”
“Aye, the lady Brielle MacCollum.”
“Would I be able to meet her?”
“We shall see what the Guardians have set forth for us. Now please, we must make haste.”
Both Kiera and Tom did not know why, but they somehow felt the urgency of the request of the Lady Bronwyn.
Tom walked alongside of Kiera, following closely behind the two older women. The sun was nearly up and the darkness that had cloaked the night was starting to evaporate like the mists that shrouded the standing stones. He felt as if he had been struck by lightning and was in fact, still smoldering from the blast. Part of him hoped he was still dreaming. First that dreadful fall that seemed to plunge through eternity and then finding his birth mother to be living in medieval Scotland. He really hoped he was dreaming, because his head felt like he had smashed it on one of those standing stones. The small band walked silently up a craggy slope and even though the sky was no longer cast in pitch, it was still difficult to see through the gloom. They had to be careful where they placed their steps because there were all sorts of pitfalls upon the path. Kiera stumbled twice and Tom had to catch her so she would not plummet over the rocky precipice.
When they got to the top of the rise, they could see the outline of Campbell Keep before them. Parts of it looked the same, but much of it appeared different to the way it stood in modern times. Tom looked at Kiera and saw her scanning the horizon, like she was looking for something. Without a span of seconds, Morag turned and faced them and pointing a crooked finger at Kiera she warned sternly, “Dunna’ think to find him, for it will be disastrous.”
“I--I wasn’t going to do anything.”
“I know t’is tempting, but he must stay his course in this time.”
“But maybe if I could just do something to give him hope.”
“Nay!”
Morag fairly shouted it. “Dunna’ trifle with what ye’ have been granted, for if ye’ do, I will nay be able to help ye’.”
Tom looked at Kiera with the unspoken question burning in his mind at what the cryptic warning was and Kiera just said, “Derek.”
“Ohhh, right, right. He is here, somewhere, before ….”
“Before he has found his redemption. If she plays with what she should not, all will be lost. He is nay the man ye’ are married to now, Lassie. Ye’ would be wise to put him out of yer’ mind for a time.”
“But how can I?”
“Ye’ must. For his and for yer’ sake as well. Heed me well, Kiera MacCollum. Do nothing.”
Properly admonished, Kiera just nodded in supplication and continued to carefully walk along with the rest of them. They stopped briefly at the peak and looked out on the valley below them. Morag leaned on her staff and pointed toward the horizon.
“Riders. They will be upon Campbell within a few hours.”
Tom was amazed that this woman who was older than dirt; his mother; could see the riders. He could only barely make out specs that dotted the land in a line, like ants raiding a picnic. Yet the sharp eyes of this woman caught them in her sight. Tom felt his heart pound in anticipation. Something about these people on horseback was the reason they had all been brought here; he was certain of it.
“Who are they,” Tom asked.
“T’is the king of England. We have been awaitin’ his arrival.”
“King? Which king? What year is this?”
“T’is the thirteenth hundred and eighty seventh year of our Lord.”
Thomas scratched his chin and he blurted out, “Richard of Bordeaux…Oh my God, this is the Gyration.”
He had only ju
st read about it on his train ride to Scotland. There would be an assassination attempt on this king in this very place! He had to warn them, but he struggled to find the right words. He was, up until a few moments ago, a very unwanted guest. His mere presence could muck things up pretty badly, so he said nothing for the moment. He wished he brought along the book so he could figure out what to do.
He would tell Kiera when he had a moment alone with her and perhaps she would know what to do. He bit back any words that threatened to spill out and kept silent. Now was not the time to reveal such a thing. Besides, Kiera was looking rather miserable at the moment, so he could not add to her burdens with the information he harbored. He would have to wait, he decided, but not long. He was pretty certain there would not be much time. This was the castle that had been the first stop on the king’s tour of Scotland. According to the history book he had been reading, this was where the attempt on the king’s life would be made. God, he hoped this was one of those occasions that history had been recorded incorrectly.
All eyes were suddenly upon him and Morag inquired, “What do ye’ know of him, lad?”
“Oh, not much,” he lied. “Only that he had wanted to tour all of his holdings and make it to Edinburgh in time for the spring Court.”
Morag nodded. He could feel that she knew he was not telling the entire truth, but she said nothing to challenge him at the moment. He wished he could trust her, but he had so many mixed emotions about the woman presently, he said nothing more. Now that they had seen the riders in the distance, there was a greater sense of urgency to make it back to Campbell. The tension in the air was thick and it breathed among all of them. This was going to be quite an adventure, Tom thought. An adventure he wasn’t sure he wanted to be part of; kiss or no kiss.
~
Chapter Twenty-Eight ~
Kiera stood stiffly as the Lady Bronwyn laced her into her daughter’s gown. It was almost as beautiful as her wedding dress. It was a soft lavender woolen crepe with fitted sleeves that pointed over her wrists. There was gorgeous embroidery lining the neck and gems glinted within the intricate Celtic knotwork design, which Kiera knew to be amethyst; real gems; not lab created knock-offs. Along the hem, the same design wreathed the skirt of the gown, which was widely cut with many gores to add fullness at the bottom, near her feet. The knotwork was carried down the front of the bodice to a peaked vee below her belly button. It made her waist look teeny, but even so, the gown was a little tight. They had bound her breasts with a linen banding so she would fit better into Jenna’s gown but their bodies were still somewhat different. She had given birth to a baby after all, and she did not want to think about the possibility that she was pregnant again. Kiera kept trying to put that worry out of her mind, but it niggled at her subconscious. She sure as hell did not want to find herself pregnant in Medieval Scotland, so hopefully she would be able to return home as quickly as possible and seek modern medical attention, should she indeed need it.
Kiera was pretty certain that the lady of the house wasn’t the one designated to dress her, but she was also certain that Bronwyn wanted the least amount of discussion of her sudden appearance in Jenna’s stead. Kiera fidgeted a little. The gown pulled across her breasts even with the binding and she looked over her shoulder with a withering look, saying apologetically, “I just don’t think I fit into it very well.”
“Dunna’…try to use our dialect.”
“I just dunna’ think it fits!”
“Ach, ye’ll be fine, Love. I will just loosen the lacing up near yer’ shoulders. Now, repeat to me again what ye’ will say to the King.”
“Greetings and welcome, yer’ Majesty.”
“Nay, lass. T’is not so. Yer’ Grace.”
“Oh, that’s right. Majesty would have been used a bit later, er, I mean a wee bit later. Welcome, Yer’ Grace.”
“And then?”
“And then I shall curtsey.”
Yanking the lacing a final time and securing them by tying them off and tucking it into the back placard of the gown, Bronwyn said, “Show me. Now that ye’ are in the dress, ye’ must show me that ye’ll not topple. A noble lass has already learned the proper stance to meet her betters.”
Having worn medieval attire for her own wedding, Kiera, felt moderately comfortable in the length of the garment, but the tight fitting sleeves were a little restricting. Still, she gathered her skirts, mumbling how ridiculous this was. She was in her thirties. How was she going to make anyone believe she wasn’t even twenty-three?
With the heavy fabric clasped in her fists, she placed one leg behind the other and nearly went down to one knee, and then she bowed her body at the waist and said, “Yer’ Maj...Damn it. I mean Yer’ Grace.”
Kiera raised sheepish eyes toward the lady. Her crass New York ways were sure to offend the genteel woman. “Sorry,” Kiera fairly whispered. Her potty mouth was going to get her into trouble if she wasn’t careful.
Bronwyn smiled at Kiera’s outburst. The young woman looked so much like her daughter, it was uncanny and her nature was not so unlike Jenna’s either. Jenna was known to spout an obscenity or two when she was upset. She was a more mature version, it was true, but it would do. She would have to try to make as many people believe the ruse to assure them that the king would not be displeased. She prayed they would be able to pull it off. God almighty, she wanted to wring her daughter’s lovely neck for putting them into such a predicament.
Kiera’s eyes searched Bronwyn’s nervously and she said, “I, I really hope….” The unspoken words were clear to Bronwyn and so she hugged Kiera.
“Ye’ll be fine, lass. Now, come to meet yer father. I want him to get used to seein’ ye’. We dunna’ have much time. The watch has heralded the procession approaching. Now, come.”
Kiera did not know much about Bronwyn’s daughter, but she could wring her neck for putting all her family in jeopardy as well as putting Kiera’s beloveds in harm’s way. She was pretty certain that if she ever did get to meet the girl, she would make sure she knew just what an immature little brat Kiera thought Jenna was.
With her head down, to assure she did not stumble down the stone steps, Kiera tried to concentrate on the task at hand. She was amazed how much of the castle had remained as it was so the corridors offered her the familiarity of her home, which calmed her frazzled nerves a bit. She held the hem of her gown out of the way and followed Bronwyn down to the antechamber, before the great hall. That room had been converted to the gift shop but for the most part, the layout remained the same. She raised her head only slightly to see the dashing about of the castle inhabitants. It was a much busier place than the serene mostly empty building Kiera was used to dwelling in with her beloved Derek. Delicious smells wafted from the kitchens as the feast was being prepared in honor of the royal guests, only when she thought of that, Kiera instantly felt queasy.
Bronwyn knocked softly on the heavy wooden arched door leading to the private study and pressing both her hands on the surface, pushed it opened enough to peak her head in. “Beloved,” she whispered softly to the man who was standing in front of the carved mantle of the lesser fireplace. The two huge fireplaces that were never lit in Kiera’s time, burned at each end of the great hall, and even though they were outside it, the warmth permeated the hallway, which was lit with oiled torches. Those had been replaced with gas replicas, and the smoky tails added to the closeness Kiera suddenly felt. She prayed she wouldn’t faint from the tight dress and the cloying air that hung heavily within the stone walls of the keep.
Drew turned toward the door and saw his wife seeking him out. He motioned for her to enter as she said, “She’s ready, my love. Would ye’ like to meet her, now?”
“Aye, Bronnie. Bring her in.”
Bronwyn took Kiera’s suddenly very cold hand within her own and she turned to look at the stricken woman standing behind her. What in the world was wrong with her? She looked like she was going to wretch. Bronwyn said, “Breathe, lass. It will be alrig
ht.”
“T’is hard to breathe, mother…in this tight dress…and with all the smoke.”
Despite Kiera’s discomfort, Bronwyn smiled. She had answered like a Scot and she had called her mother. The woman was already slipping into her important role, imposter though she was.
“Come inside, Daughter. There is someone I need fer ye’ to meet.”
Kiera fought back the gorge that was steadily rising and on trembling legs, she forced herself to move forward into the room that was no longer littered with souvenirs to appeal to tourists. The man standing before her was not much older than Derek. He was tall and handsome with leaf-green eyes that sparkled with warmth. Though Kiera could see he looked troubled, he offered her welcome and some of her nausea abated.
He bowed low, and took her hand to his lips, “My lady…welcome to our home. I hope you find it as comfortable as your own. I know my wife and I are so grateful for your sacrifice in order to help us.”
Kiera was charmed. He was every bit of the chivalrous Knight Kiera had imagined. He was something right out of a romance novel.
Kiera practiced her curtsey and nailed it on the first try. She said, “Thank you for welcoming me into your home. I know how odd this all must be.”
With a half-smile, Drew said, “Oh, believe me, after being married to my wife all these years and knowing her tutor ever so well, not much surprises me. I will admit, they never run out of things to challenge my sanity but it has never been dull.”
Kiera caught Drew winking at Bronwyn and she saw blush stain the beautiful lady’s face. It was wonderful. They were clearly still very much in love and Kiera was enchanted.
