by Ria Cantrell
“Oh, trust me, there have been things I have learned and seen in the near eight decades I have walked this earth that would shatter faith of saints. And ye’ are, lad?”
“I am, well here I am called Tavish and I am told I am a MacCollum.” Oh that sounded really good. He was going to get his head handed to him by the old Laird if he didn’t get a grip.
Caleb raised an eyebrow and he said, “Ye’ were told ye are a MacCollum? Did ye’ nay know it before?”
“I am also known as Tom Callum.”
“Callum? Hmm, interesting. T’is a form of our ancient surname, to be certain. And where did ye’ come from Tom Callum. Ye’ have the speech of a Sassenach.”
“I beg your pardon, my Laird. It is really quite a fantastical story.”
“Well, lad, ye’ best think how to tell it, for it seems that my lassie here is quite taken with ye’. As her grandfather and laird of the clan, t’is my duty to see that any suitors are worthy of her.”
“Grandfather!” Jenna screeched. Feigning nonchalance, Caleb said, “Well, t’is the truth, is it nay? Were ye’ nay just tellin’ me about yon swain before we rode over the bridge?”
“Grandfather, please. Dunna’ say another word. Ye’ are embarrassing me.”
Tom grinned. He couldn’t help himself and so with a disarming smile, with his best flirtatious glance, he said, “You were talking about me? You told your grandfather you were taken with me?”
Jenna looked horrified. She wanted to slap that self-satisfied smirk right off of the handsome face of this Tavish or Tom or whatever his name was.
“Shut up,” she blurted out and she brushed passed Tom in a huff. Tom actually laughed. She was beautiful when she was pissed off. His momentary respite was quickly nullified as he felt the strong arm of Caleb MacCollum thud heavily about his shoulders. It felt like a freaking tree limb had fallen upon his back.
“Well, now, laddie. We need to have a talk.”
Tom could only nod; mute once again. He was certain his legs would buckle under the weight of the laird’s captive hold, but he felt them almost scraping the cobbled stones as Caleb pulled him along, like a sack of grain. Out of the corner of Tom’s eye, he saw that scoundrel de la Pole scurrying out into the courtyard. Damn it!
Tom had wanted to try to follow him at a distance at least to see what the traitor was up to, but he had lost his focus upon Jenna’s arrival. Now he was being guided not all that willingly, by the Laird of the clan back into the keep and there was nothing more he could do at the moment about de la Pole. Tom hoped he would be able to do something; anything, despite that Morag had warned him against it. There seemed to be a lot at stake and Tom was not a man who usually settled for complacency. His hands were literally tied at the moment. He could not escape the strong clutch of Caleb MacCollum’s grip even if he wanted to.
Upon entering the keep, Caleb thought he was seeing things. Beside his beautiful daughter was the spitting image of his granddaughter and the two women were staring at each other in disbelief. What the hell was going on here?
Slowly, with the aid of her ever-present staff, Morag approached the welcoming party. I might have known she had something to do with all of this, Caleb thought. Morag was the only woman who could make him feel like a lad caught with his hands in his pants. He expected to be chastised for something, even though he was rapidly approaching his eightieth year. Instead, she simply said, “Please release my son.”
Both Caleb’s and Jenna’s heads whipped around to gape at the old woman who had gone to stand beside the mysterious stranger who had attracted the attention of each of them.
“Son? Nana Morag, this is nay yer’ son. He is an unwelcomed stranger and a bounder.”
“He is a stranger t’is true and ye’ may think him unwelcomed, but he is my son. I would nay lie about that.”
With a sarcastic little laugh, Jenna said, “Nana Morag, he is a little young to be yer’ son.”
Caleb and Bronwyn spoke as one, “Hush, child.”
So, it was as he suspected. The only one whose eyes were like this stranger’s was the Wise One’s. Caleb stood in awe of what was unfolding before him. In all his years with Morag as his confidante, he knew so little about the secret she kept locked in her heart. His own dear father had told him long ago that Morag harbored a hurt so deep that it was never to be spoken of and no one ever did.
“Mother, what is this? Who is this woman? How is this man Nan’s son,” Jenna demanded.
“Daughter, I would wager ye’ have some explainin’ to do of yer’ own. Ye’ had best rethink yer’ tone of voice and go to yer’ chamber. We will meet ye’ there. It is dangerous to have the two of ye’ here at the same time. Now go and dunna’ think to disobey me this time.”
Jenna looked from the face of her mother to her Grandfather. He said, “Do as ye’ are bid, girl. T’is time fer’ a great reckoning, I think.”
Defeated and properly chastised, Jenna turned from the small group and hurried toward her chambers. Her face burned with humiliation and anger as she ran up the stone steps leading to her quarters. She did not know what the hell was going on, but she was absolutely mortified. Before she took her leave, she caught sight of the one who had wreaked havoc on her mind the last few days. He no longer looked smug and arrogant. He looked sad and concerned. He tried to smile at her, but she turned her back on him before she could see anything more in those silvery grey eyes…eyes just like Nana Morag’s.
~~~~~
“Uh, that didn’t go so well, did it?”
Bronwyn faced Kiera and she said, “Dear lady, this is nay yer’ concern. We were wrong to bring ye’ into this?”
“Perhaps, but it is a little late for that. And after all, if I hadn’t come, Tom wouldn’t be here either. I think it is important that he is here to reunite with Morag.” Then gazing at Morag, Kiera said, “Morag, I think I did not believe you when you told me you knew about heart ache. I am so sorry for not understanding.”
“Ach, Lassie, t’is forgiven for look what ye’ have granted me; my son--my beloved son.”
“Come on, dear, let’s go talk to Jenna. She must be so upset right now. Lady Bronwyn, would you mind if we tried to help?”
“Nay. Thank ye’ fer yer’ kindness. I am sure I am the last person that my daughter wishes to speak to. I will be up in a while. I will visit with my father and then I will join ye’.”
“Hmm, well lass, I would love a visit with ye’, but young Tavish and I were about to have a talk.”
“Tavish? Why? This poor soul has been caught up in all of my machinations and I daresay, he has suffered the most for it. Because I could nay explain how he is our visitor, yer’ grandson thought to protect the king by locking the lad up.”
“Lady, please do not fret about that. T’is forgotten.”
Tom really liked Bronwyn. She was kind and patient. He realized that Jenna had caused her hardship in her little adventure, but he understood her plight. He guessed having lived in a time where women made choices for themselves, he had empathy for the woman who did not seem to have that right. Hell, none of these women did, for that matter. Tom was pretty certain he could not get used to that. He liked women, but in particular, he loved women who were independent and strong. He sensed that in Bronwyn, Morag and especially in Jenna. These were not damsels in distress, like the story books portrayed. These were tough women of strength and fortitude. A woman had to be courageous if any manner of husband were picked for her.
Somehow that thought made Tom feel like vomiting and he wasn’t sure if it was the idea of Jenna being forced to marry against her will, or merely if it was the idea that she would marry. Tom did not delude himself into thinking he would be her choice if she were allowed to choose. There would be no good in entertaining that little fantasy. His life was not here in this time, despite being born to it. His life was back where he had come from; enjoying the modern conveniences; being a front man for the singing group Celtic Storm. He would be wise to put romantic n
otions of Jenna Brandham out of his head. Once he returned home, this would all just simply be a blur.
But would it? Tom had a sinking feeling that nothing would ever be simple again; especially if it concerned the likes of Jenna Brandham.
~
Chapter Thirty-Six ~
Jenna could still not believe what had happened. The woman, Kiera, was brought by Nan Morag to take her place while the king had visited. Looking at her was like looking into a mirror. It was unnerving. The woman was older, but the resemblance was disturbing. The only difference really, was the color of their eyes. Jenna’s hair seemed darker than this Kiera’s hair, but it was only shaded with deeper hues of auburn. Kiera explained that the water in her time was processed with things called chemicals and thus it bleached out color of the hair.
Her time. Holy mother of God, the woman had told her a fantastical story; that she was from a place in time hundreds of ions from this one. The idea fascinated Jenna and she wanted to learn all about that time where water bleached hair. Then, as if that tale was not enough, Jenna learned how Tavish had come to be here; how Tavish had been lost long ago to the old one who had been ever present in her life.
Jenna sat down on her bed in shock or disbelief, mayhap a bit of both. She had never wanted to believe in all the foolery of the Ancient Ways. She thought her mother was rather silly to still give merit to all those old fashioned modes of thinking. Now, she realized that the magic and wonder was something that should have been embraced, rather than scorned.
Morag was a Time Traveler. Though she did not say it, Jenna gathered that somehow her son, Tavish, was as well. How else would he have been at the Samhain Fete and then locked in the supply stores only days later. Jenna put her hands up to her burning cheeks. She felt the heat rising in them just from thinking of Tavish.
Her grandfather had said she was smitten with the man. She wanted to deny it, but it was the truth. It was more than the truth because if truth was being laid before them all, Jenna had to be truthful about something else that she had denied most of her life. It was a magic of her own that she had long discounted as having a vivid imagination. When she had explained that she had seen Tavish when he was in trouble in the stores and that she had wiped away the blood from his fingers, she heard Morag murmur words that sent a chill down her spine. Dream Walker, she had said; Jenna was a Dream Walker.
Kiera patted the young woman’s hand and she said, “I know it is a lot for you to take in. Believe me, I suffered a similar shock when I learned my fate was linked to a man who should have been dead for seven hundred years. There are so many things that we can’t believe, but it is so.”
Jenna raised large eyes to Kiera. They looked luminous and frantic. The poor girl must have thought she was losing her mind. Kiera knew about that, too.
“What--what do we do now? If the king learns my mother deceived him, she will be severely punished.”
“Well, then, we shall not let him know, shall we?”
“But I am here. There can nay be two of us. Surely most people who know me, will realize ye’ are nay me.”
“I have been able to pull it off so far.”
“Pull it off,” Jenna asked, confused.
“I mean I have been able to convince people so far except for your brother. He was not amused, to say the least. Only a handful of people know that I am here. Your brother Ian, your Uncle Erik, your mother and father, Morag, Tommy and now Laird Caleb. I was hoping the least the better, but sometimes there is no way to avoid more people being involved.”
“Oh, what have I done? I should have never left with Uncle Rory and Auntie Brielle.”
“What’s done is done and the fact is that I am here now. We just have to play it out a few more days till the king moves on and all will be well.”
Morag went to the girl who had been so much like a granddaughter to her. She placed an arthritic hand upon her shoulder and she said, “Aye, ye’ should nay have left, t’is true, but if ye’ had not, I would nay have my darlin’ Tavish back. Do ye’ understand that this gift is the most precious I could have ever received. Errr, that is except for my own dear Ian to have been returned to me. I will console myself with the product of our union, my son.”
“Nana Morag, I still dunna’ understand how that man is yer’ son. Did my grandda’ know?”
“If he has known, he has ne’er spoken of it. When I was a girl yer’ age, I married Ian MacCollum and we were so happy, lass. But he was taken from me far too young and I carried his son. The lad was sick, lassie. Too sick for me to help, even with my knowledge of the herbs and plants to heal him. But I had other knowledge and t’was the knowledge to bring him to a time where he could be healed.”
“But why did ye’ nay try to find him?”
“I did, lass. Many times, but it was nay to be. The Guardians saw fit to punish me for the misuse of the Power I was entrusted with. T’was the danger facing ye’ that drew him forward. I am certain of it.”
“What? What do ye’ mean?”
“Lass, ye’ are woven into the web of his soul; same as Kiera was to Derek Campbell. Time knows no merit in such things.”
Jenna shook her head, despite remembering other dreams when he was there from the past. It was all coming back to her now. How many times had she seen him? More than she wanted to admit. “Nay, t’is not so.”
“Is it not?”
“I dunna’ know. I honestly canna’ say.”
“Time will tell, Lassie, time will tell. It always does.”
Jenna rubbed her temples, like she had seen her mother do so many times. Now she understood the headaches she had given her dear mum over her life as a throbbing pain nearly blurred her vision. It was almost too much for anyone to fathom.
Jenna offered one last argument, “Besides, t’was nay like I was really in any danger at all.”
“Ahh, but lass ye’ were. More than we can even know. This king is very unpredictable, but our sweet Kiera has helped ease that somewhat. The king is nay interested in taking another man’s woman. Unlike other kings who care not for such things, this one is very possessive and he wants no other man’s leavings.”
“But I am no other man’s leavings. I would be ripe for his attentions, I suppose.”
“Aye ye’ would, but Kiera saw to it that ye’ would not.”
“How,” Jenna demanded; not liking the implication of those words.
“Well, I sort of told him that I…well we, I mean you were already betrothed.”
“Betrothed! And who, shall I wonder, is my espoused husband to be?”
Morag smiled, and the wrinkles on her face deepened with delight. “Why, my handsome Tavish, of course.”
~~~~~
Tom found himself facing the old Laird and he was pretty certain that he was going to be schooled in the art of courtly love in medieval times. He suddenly wished he was locked back in that stifling room rather than the fate that awaited him at the moment. Hell, he only kissed her once. Rather, he dreamed he had kissed her. It wasn’t like he did anything else to her. Why did he feel like he was going to be found guilty of having compromised the girl’s virginity or something? Holy hell; sex was so much simpler in the future. There weren’t all these crazy taboos like there were in medieval Scotland. The way Caleb’s eyes bored into him, Tom felt like he was about to be hung out to dry. It was as if the man already knew Tom had wanted Jenna, before he had even admitted it to himself.
“Alright, lad. What are yer’ intentions for my granddaughter?”
“Shouldn’t I be having this conversation with her father?”
Caleb raised his eyebrow. “Aye, but Drew is nay here. Since I am, I will speak for him.”
Tom knew he had to answer carefully. He couldn’t just say, hell yeah, your granddaughter is hot and I would love to jump her bones. What did he want to do exactly? He knew there was no future for them, so he should just tell Caleb he had no intentions whatsoever on the girl. Somehow, he could not get his mouth to form the words.
“I…I think she is very beautiful.”
“Obviously. Go on.”
“Well, the truth of the matter is that I was thinking, that as much as I want, I mean even though she is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Damn, that’s not what I wanted to say.”
“Do ye’ or do ye’ nay find her beautiful?”
“Aye…I mean yes, of course. Very much. It’s just that we are both from very different worlds.”
“Nay so different, lad.”
“Well, that could be true, but I have not lived in this time. I was raised in a time very different from this one. My life is there, in that time.”
“Morag is here, though, lad.”
“Yes, but I hardly know her. My mother and father; the ones who raised me, they love me and they would be devastated if I stayed here.” If you stay in this time, you would be dead for nearly seven centuries to them. Tom did not like that notion at all. It sent an eerie chill through his blood and it made him feel like he was going to be ill again. It wasn’t so much the thought that he would be dead, but so would Jenna.
That thought tempered his next answer, but he felt a deep sense of sorrow all of a sudden. “While I would love to get to know Jenna better, I think it would be best if we do not. Her life is here. Mine is not. I would not wish to hurt her in any way.”
Tom felt it was suddenly hard to swallow. It was almost as if he was going to cry. Jenna would be long gone if he were to go back to the twenty-first century. That was a thought that was almost too much for him to bear.
Caleb had not been a great laird without being able to read people. The look in this young man’s eyes told the entire story. “Tavish, it disturbs ye’ greatly to think about going back to yer’ home. I can see it.”
“It’s that…if I do, or rather when I do go back, Jenna will be lost to me. I don’t like thinking about that.”
Caleb stood and went before Tavish. Placing a still-strong hand on his shoulder he said, “Then dunna’ think about it. Life is funny, lad. Love is funnier, still. There is no explanation why we feel what we do when love calls us. Jenna is here now. This is where she is; full of life and love to give. Do ye’ understand?”
