Celtic Peril (Celtic Storm Book 6)

by Ria Cantrell

  “Now, then, let me have a good look at you. I do not wish to be so forward, but I must be sure I will not be tempted to break our ruse.”

  Now, it was Kiera’s turn to blush. He was damned sexy and that would never do if he was to be her father. She was actually glad Derek wasn’t here. He would go ape shit over Drew’s assessment of her.

  “Lovely; isn’t she lovely, Wife? My, she really does look like our girl. It is eerie. Like I am getting a glimpse into the future.”

  “In more ways than one,” Kiera murmured.

  “Indeed. Lady Kiera, it will be too hard for me to call you Jenna. Would it be alright if we just addressed you as Daughter?”

  Kiera nodded. That would actually work. She was afraid she would forget to answer to Jenna so the less people called her by that name, the better. Now, if only she could convince the king of it.

  Drew smiled and he said, “You will do fine, my lady. You need only meet him. If all goes well, he will be occupied with Royal duties and you will be but a passing acquaintance.

  Kiera eyed the man who just read her mind and realized Bronwyn wasn’t he only one in the family that had gifts. So, the man was psychic, too. Damn, these medieval guys were too much. Smiling to herself at her own naughty thoughts, she said, “Okay, I uh, I mean aye.”

  Drew handed her a goblet filled with honey-scented liquid. Mead. She had tasted some commercial mead, but somehow this seemed more potent. She could smell it. Things weren’t chemically enhanced here. Thankfully, she held the goblet in her shaking hands and she took a sip. She was right about it being more potent, but it was delicious and a warmth, like drinking whiskey, slid down her throat and reached her stomach, spreading through her veins within seconds. It tasted like there were other herbs in it; like lavender and cloves. She knew she shouldn’t drink if there was a chance she was pregnant but she wasn’t sure she even could be and it was just a few sips. By God, she needed it to calm her down and it was quickly working.

  “This is wonderful. I’ve never drank anything as delicious as this.”

  “Our beekeepers pride themselves on making the best honey for our mead. They have worked over diligently to procure enough for the king’s visit. There, now do you feel a little better?”

  “Yes, thank you, but how did you know?”

  “Love, it does nay take a Seer to miss the color in yer cheeks. Why, ye’ were fairly green. Drew always knows how to calm the lassies.”

  “Yes, well, all but one wayward daughter, I suppose.”

  “Beloved, ye’ have always been her champion.”

  Nodding, Drew said, “Shall we go to greet our guests? I heard the portcullis being drawn. The watch said that they could see that our son and Erik were leading the Royal Guard.”

  Bronwyn smiled. It had been a long time since she had seen Ian. She expected to see him for the wedding, but that was postponed till after the King’s progress was done. She wished both Rhianna and Marianna could accompany Erik and Ian. She missed them very much, but Marianna had to make her wedding plans without Ian’s presence. It was a lot to ask of a bride. Weddings took as much as Royal visits to prepare for. Bronwyn also knew that since the death of Rurik, Erik’s father, Lady Brekka had become very fragile in spirit. Rhianna was ever the good daughter through marriage and she had taken on the blessed burden of caring for her elderly mother-in-law. Still, Bronwyn was filled with joy at the thought of seeing her son. Her son! “Drew…our son!”

  Drew let out a low curse.

  Kiera heard the oath from the lips of the chivalrous knight and she forced herself not to giggle. This was serious!

  “I will head him off from the retinue and explain the situation to Erik and Ian. Just worry about greeting the King. Let me worry about explaining things to Jenna’s brother.”

  Kiera raised her eyes to Sir Andrew Brandham. She said, “The others in the keep will know I am not Jenna.”

  “Maybe not. You cannot believe how much you look like her. Here, please allow me to arrange your hair.”

  Kiera had braided her hair and hung the thick rope over her shoulder like the painting she had seen so many times. Instead, Drew gently unplaited it and he arranged it about her face and shoulders. Bronwyn nodded. “Yes, that’s better.”

  “But I thought….”

  “She does braid it, but more often she leaves it loose. And, also, she is not timid. Hold yer’ head up, my girl and carry yourself with, how shall I say it….”

  “Arrogance.”

  All heads turned at the sound of Morag’s voice. She was never one to mince words or to sugarcoat situations. She also always moved so silently, which was most unnerving.

  “Ah, Morag. Where would we be without your wise words?”

  “Well, the girl is haughty, at times, Andrew and ye’ know it.”

  “I would not disagree with you, Lady. Only, she is not so much arrogant as she is self-assured.”

  “And willful. And disobedient. And headstrong. And quite a handful. Ehhh, but I am ever fond of the girl. She has a heart of gold and is quite kind. I’ve no wish to malign her, but Kiera needs to understand, she canna’ be shy like a doe in the woods.”

  Kiera smiled for the first time since arriving in this predicament.

  “She sounds like a girl after my own heart.”

  Kiera had to wonder what it was truly like to be a woman in these uncertain times. She knew that women had very little choices of their own, and their destinies were mapped out by the men who either sired them or married them. Perhaps Jenna would have been better suited to a time that Kiera was suddenly very happy to have been born into.

  “I think I can handle it now. I had thought perhaps she would be quite...oh I don’t know…austere and serious.”

  Drew nearly choked at that description of his daughter. Austere; hardly. Serious, well mayhap, but only about dodging marriage proposals. Collecting himself, Drew said, “Well, we must greet our guests. Are we all ready?”

  “As ready as we can be.”

  “Ye’ just follow the lead of Bronwyn and Drew. Ye’ll do fine, lass. We will nay let ye’ fall.”

  The four of them walked toward the entrance of the great hall. There was much activity in the outer bailey as horses were being led to stables and the Royal guest and his entourage clamored before the great open doors leading inside the keep. Kiera could feel her heart beating wildly in her chest and she prayed she wouldn’t do something stupid like faint or hurl. The thudding in her ears seemed deafening and she tried to concentrate on breathing.

  Then she saw him; the king; and a sudden urge to start laughing burbled within her. He was adorned like a peacock and the way he strutted about almost made Kiera think that said bird had been his role model. He was small for a man; like a little boy trying to play at being a king. It was all Kiera could do to not burst out into a full guffaw. Morag must have sensed her sudden amusement, because she felt the gnarled fingers closing on a bit of her skin in a painful pinch on the palm of her hand. Kiera bit back a yelp and that small amount of pain quelled the urge to laugh in the pompous little idiot’s face. Good God, this was the ruler of all of England? Somehow, this is not how Kiera imagined it to be.

  Andrew bowed on one knee before the king and said, “My Liege, welcome to our humble home. I present my wife, Lady Bronwyn Brandham nee MacCollum and my daughter, Jenna Brandham.”

  Each woman curtseyed in turn and then Drew acknowledged Morag. “And this is Morag MacCollum. She is our chatelaine and resident healer.”

  Morag lowered her head. She could not get into a curtsey and the king nodded his greeting. Bronwyn spoke and said, “Welcome, Your Grace. We hope ye’ enjoy yer visit here. Please come and have a light repast in our privy chambers while yer’ retinue is being settled and placed. We have many fine entertainments fer yer’ pleasure and tonight’s feast is presented in yer’ honor.”

  The small man’s eyes locked on Kiera and he took her hand swiftly. He brought her hand up to his lips and he said, “What a beautif
ul daughter you have.”

  Placing a too wet kiss on her palm, Kiera felt her skin crawl, but pasted a false smile on her lips. She imagined Derek pummeling the little creeper into the mud.

  “Perhaps you will do me the honor of sitting beside me at the meal,” he said, thinking himself to be gallant. Kiera panicked. Morag nudged the small of her back with her bony knuckles and so Kiera just curtseyed again and said, “T’would be my honor, yer’ Grace.”

  And then, as quickly as he had focused upon Kiera, the king’s attention left her for the moment as many more of the retinue poured into the open doors of the castle. Kiera was thankful for the brief reprieve and she hoped she would be able to slip away as soon as possible. Poor Jenna! No wonder she had run for the hills at the prospect of meeting this strutting peacock.

  ~~~~~

  Tom paced nervously. He had to get to Kiera and tell her about what he knew. He wracked his brain for every detail he had read and he wished he had paid closer attention to the particulars concerning the assassination attempt on Richard of Bordeaux’s life. Something about one of his trusted council wishing to stir up trouble with Scotland. Damned if he could remember how it panned out. One thing he knew for certain; and that was the name of the man behind the treachery. Michael de la Pole. Tom remembered the name as if it was permanently burned into his memory. He remembered thinking it had been quite an odd name, sounding almost Spanish, rather than English; which is why it stood out. Was the traitor in house already? If he was, what was Tom supposed to do, really? He had only had a cursory training in swordplay. Then, there was the fact that he couldn’t really tell too many people. One, they would think him mad, or two, they may even point the finger at him, a stranger from another time and place.

  Dammit to hell, this was really a bad idea. He could kill Derek Campbell for convincing him to put himself in the thick of this mess. He didn’t even want to think of the woman who had come out of the past to claim him as her son. He felt sorry for the old lady; he really did, but he could feel no attachment to her. His life was good and he liked where he had ended up, despite the abandonment when he was a young child.

  Tom paced again, drawing his hands through his hair. Jesus, what a mess he had gotten himself into. Tom shook his head. He had better forget insipid fantasies of stolen kisses. The proverbial shit was about to hit the fan, so to speak and he could not waste precious time trying to find some wayward woman who wanted no part of anything remotely romantic.

  Still, he could not just settle in while danger lurked below him. He had to warn them even though the idea of changing history did not sit very well with him.

  Bronwyn said that Tom would be able to join them for the feast because there were so many people about, that he would be able to slip into the crowd and mayhap not draw too much attention to himself. He decided that he probably wasn’t very good at speaking medieval English, but he could speak Gaelic as well as anyone and they were in Scotland after all, so he thought that would be his language of choice.

  Tom could barely stand being cooped up much longer so he ventured out, checking to see if anyone was in the hallway. The least he drew curious eyes to himself, the better. Besides, he needed to find Kiera and sooner than later. History be damned! Tom didn’t know too much about these people, but he was pretty sure he did not want them blamed for treason. Even if he never got to meet Jenna Brandham in person, he did not want the wrath of England to befall these folks, or for that matter, his mother Morag, especially. She was too old and frail. Tom decided, that was it! He was not going to stand by while a plot unfolded that threatened to endanger them all.

  Tom made his way down to the main hall. Throngs of people milled in and out of the open oak doors and it seemed impossible to find Kiera amid the raucous revelers. There were all sorts of sights and smells to tease his senses. People were dressed in finery and some looked outright ridiculous. Some looked beautiful or regal. There were gorgeous girls who Tom guessed were courtesans, as there were no ladies in waiting at the moment because there was yet to be a queen.

  Then there were the delicious aromas of roasted meats and fresh bread probably still baking in the giant ovens of the bakeries that were outside. Those buildings were no more in Kiera’s home now, but this was a thriving, castle with living inhabitants and not just a museum. Tom also wrinkled his nose at the odor of unwashed bodies. Stale sweat seemed to cling to the fabric of the garments worn by many of those who packed the great hall waiting to be fed. He checked himself and wondered how long his deodorant would hold up. He hadn’t packed a bunch of toiletries when he fell through the portal upon entering the standing stones. Well, he would just have to make the best of it for now. Besides, he was on a mission. He had to find Kiera.

  He pushed himself through the crush of the people, politely begging pardons when he jostled someone. So far, his Gaelic was keeping him out of the crosshairs and no one seemed to think him odd or out of place. In fact, Tom had caught a few of the lasses eyeing him and some even flirted outright with him. Any other time, he may have been up for it, but not tonight. Maybe if he could get someone to listen to his concerns, he would enjoy the “damsels” in need of a man such as himself. Besides, he may never actually get to meet Jenna because he hoped to be out of the fourteenth century sooner than not. Tom wasn’t sure why, but that thought disturbed him. He pushed it to the back of his mind and he went to find Kiera.

  Just then, some of the King’s guards entered the room. A hush fell on the cacophony of chatter and laughter as the men made an impressive sight, lined up with swords strapped to their sides and the livery of the king’s colors displayed on the surcoats of the Guard. Was one of them de la Pole? Who the hell could Tom trust? There were two large men at the back of the Guard, but anyone could see they were actually the leaders of the contingent.

  One was an older guy with shoulder length blonde hair in about his mid-forties. He stood very straight and was he ever imposing! He was a freakin’ giant…as big as that brute Kiera was married to. He was clad in mail under the king’s colors and he seemed to wear a perpetual scowl until the man standing beside him leaned in and whispered something and the semblance of smile lifted his mouth. Tom knew immediately who the other man was for he had briefly met his father before Kiera was whisked off to dress for the ruse of his Jenna. His Jenna? Did he really just think that? Pull it together, idiot. You’ve got to get to Jenna’s brother. He looked just like Andrew Brandham. It had to be his son. Maybe Tom could convince this man of the trouble that was brewing even now as the guests milled in the great feast but how could he do it? He couldn’t just say, Hey, I’m from the future and I read about an assassination attempt on Richie boy and you have to believe me…Oh yeah sure, that would go over just great. It would probably land him in a dungeon waiting for his head to be separated from his neck. Or worse, they could think him to be some sort of warlock…especially when they find out his mother is the town witch. God, get me out of this mess! I promise no more carousing. I’ll settle down…just get me out of this nightmare.

  Tom waited while the men took their places and moved from formation to stand beside each row of long tables that would seat many of the guests for the feast. They were on duty, so now was not the time to approach any of them. Tom grew tired of all the elbowing and manhandling, so he decided to slip out of the room and try to find Kiera. Something was going to happen soon; he could feel it. He only wished he knew the exact date and time. Hell, he didn’t even know the exact date and time at the moment any way.

  Tom meandered through the steady stream of people and he tried to look nonchalant as he left the hall. There was a closed door to the left of the banquet room and he pressed his ear against it to see if he could hear any voices from within. The wood was so thick, Tom could only hear low murmurs, but he was pretty certain that he heard a woman’s voice as well. He was poised to knock when he felt a grip like a vice close around his upper arm.

  ~

  Chapter Twenty-Nine ~

  Er
ik’s eyes took in the multitude of people lining the large room. It was hot from the burning fires at both ends of the hall and from the many people crammed in to get a place at a table. It was hard to keep watch on everyone; there were just too many people, but that was dangerous in of itself. He looked over at Ian and noticed his gaze was fixed on a man pushing his way through the crowd. He seemed to be in a big hurry. Erik met Ian’s eyes and with a silent nod toward the man leaving in haste, Ian left the ranks of the Guard. Ian was an imposing Knight and he quickly gained wide berth to pass through the people.

  There was something odd about the man, but he could not put his finger on it. He knew enough to trust his instincts to follow him. Though the man was only dressed in a simple leather jerkin and trews, there was something wrong about his attire. Ian saw the man make his way to the antechamber and he watched as the man pressed against the door to eavesdrop on those inside. Perhaps he was some sort of spy and clearly that could not be tolerated.

  Before the man could make a further move, Ian was upon him, grasping his arm in a vice-like grip to not only stop him in his tracks, but to inflict a bit of pain as a warning. The man turned to face him; his fist raised as if he was hell bent on punching Ian, but then as he saw who had accosted him, he said, “Oh, it’s you. You’re Jenna’s brother aren’t you?”

  Damn, Tom forgot to speak in Gaelic and his modern vernacular was sure to raise suspicion. Not only that, he felt like the big guard could easily break his arm with his bare hands.

  “How do you know my sister?”

  “Well, I don’t, I mean not yet; not really.” Tom was digging himself deeper but it was too late to retract his words now.

  “Who are you and what are you about?”

  “I’m--I’m a friend. I was just looking for Kier--I mean Jenna.”

  “If you do not know my sister, why are you looking for her?”

  Shit! What was he supposed to say?