The Time Traveler's Christmas (Guardian of Scotland Book 3)

by Amy Jarecki

  “I-I-I am sorry.”

  Christina’s jaw dropped. Dear God, save her, she couldn’t hold back if she were blocked by a hundred pikemen. Wrapping her arms around her only son, she pulled him into a tight embrace. “My son, my son, ye dunna need to apologize to me for anything. Ye were torn from your home as a wee bairn, and anyone, no matter how strong, would suffer greatly after enduring such abominable atrocities.” She moved her hands to his cheeks and gazed into the lad’s eyes. “I love ye, I love ye, I love ye, no matter what. I am your mother and I will always love ye.”

  Andrew nodded while a tear spilled onto her fingers. Shaking his head, he pulled away. “I shan’t cry.”

  “Nay, not here.” Clutching a fist to her mouth, Christina forced her own tears at bay. “Come. We shall share a meal together.” Once alone in her chamber, she could allow her tears to flow. But now they must put on a display of strength for the clan. Her son had uttered three words she’d longed to hear. With God’s help, she was positive Lachlan had put Andrew on the path toward his destiny. The path he was born to follow.

  Once inside, she listened to Andrew tell how he’d been left alone for three whole days. Gracious, if Lachlan had told her what he intended to do, she would have tried to put a stop to it for certain. But the experience must have been remarkable. The lad had never spoken so animatedly and while simultaneously shoving his mouth full of food.

  All the while, Lachlan ate, drank and listened. Though quiet, the braw warrior’s gaze fixated on Christina throughout the meal. What was he thinking? For a moment, perspiration sprang across her skin. If he’d come to help Andrew, was his work nearly done?

  She raised a shaking hand to her forehead.

  “Are ye all right?” asked Andrew.

  Blinking, she forced a smile. “Merely a wee swoon. It must be the excitement of having ye home.”

  Her champion pushed his trencher away and rose to his feet. “I’m off for a bath. I can barely stand myself.”

  “Will we see ye on the morrow?” she asked.

  “Of course we will,” said Andrew. “Sir Lachlan said he’d teach me how to defend myself against a sword using only my fists.”

  Lachlan met her gaze and gave a smile. Though Christina should rest assured, she still couldn’t shake the idea of the medallion and the fact that Lachlan’s purpose had been achieved. Had it not?

  “He’s smarter than any man I’ve ever met,” Andrew said as he watched Lachlan retreat into the stairwell.

  “I do believe ye are right.” She unabashedly patted her son’s shoulder for the first time since his rescue. Truly, she didn’t want to push the lad, but there were still many unanswered questions and Christmas would be upon them faster than anyone realized. “So, are ye ready to accept your father’s mantle?”

  Andrew’s lips thinned. “To be honest, I dunna ken.”

  “What’s troubling ye the most?” she asked, folding her hands in her lap to steady her jumping nerves.

  “When…er…if I take up my father’s sword, I will be pledging for Robert the Bruce. All my life, I’ve been told he’s a murderer and a usurper. How can I take up arms for a man I canna trust?”

  “Hmm, I think ye’ve touched on a topic any man would have difficulty answering.” She reached for the ewer and poured for them both. “Let us first take a step back. Let us consider, for a moment, the death of King Alexander. Do ye ken what happened ever so long ago?”

  “Aye, he died whilst riding his horse and he had no forthright heir. Then King Edward was invited by the Scottish bishops to appoint a Scottish king.”

  “Indeed. It would have been all right if Edward had come to help, but he immediately pronounced himself overlord and began a litany of atrocities meant to humiliate the Scots people.”

  “But they undermined him.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “Only after Edward began to murder innocents, lad.”

  Andrew sat for a while and sipped his watered wine. They chatted a bit more about all that had transpired during King Edward’s oppression of the Scots. They discussed the war led by William Wallace and Andrew’s father and the reasons behind their patriotism.

  Andrew was still puzzled, his brow etched with a furrow far deeper than it should be for a lad of six and ten. “But Robert Bruce killed the Earl of Badenoch in a chapel, a holy place.”

  “A dark day for Scotland.” Christina nodded. “But the earl stood between King Robert and the throne. Moreover, Badenoch openly proclaimed his support for Edward. After the massacre at Berwick, no honorable Scotsman could stand idle and allow a tyrant to murder and torture our people, though the Earl of Badenoch bade us to lay down our arms.”

  “Tyrant,” Andrew said contemplatively. He picked up his goblet and sipped. “’Tis what the English call the Bruce.”

  “That doesna surprise me. Many people have died on both sides of the border.” She patted his hand. “War is never black and white, or good against evil. Both sides always believe in their own virtue. And ye will never agree on everything, especially when it comes to a king. What ye must decide is if ye believe in your clan and kin. Then your heart will lead ye toward the right path.”

  ***

  It always seemed to take too long to fill the enormous tub Lachlan had moved into his chamber, but given a couple kettles of boiling water followed by a few buckets of cold, the preparation was always worth it. Indeed, there were not many conveniences about this life. No lights to switch on, no water, hot or cold, from a tap, no cell phones or televisions. No internet, no cars or planes. He could write all night and not exhaust the list of differences. Still, he wasn’t ready to go home.

  After sinking into the glorious water and letting out a long sigh, he removed the medallion and turned it over in his palm. He’d been gone nearly six months now. What had changed back home? Where was his stuff? Jason surely hired someone to cover for Lachlan’s classes at the dojo. Mother must have made his excuses. Angela had been lost to him even before he’d time traveled.

  What if I chose to stay?

  When no answer came to him, he tossed the medallion on his pile of clothes. Reclining, he closed his eyes and focused on the color yellow, focused on the thrum of his heart and willed his mind to clear. Breathing deeply, the feeling of weightlessness encircled his muscles as if a field of antigravity surrounded him. In and out he continued to breathe, allowing the warmth from the color yellow to infuse his flesh. Nowhere on earth had Lachlan ever delved to this level of inner peace. Yet he was in the midst of unrest, in the midst of one of the most brutal eras in man’s history.

  He slid under the water, listening to the liquid slosh in his ears. And when he opened his eyes, he imagined only Christina. His thrumming heart squeezed into a knot. She was not yet out of trouble. In about six months, she had no choice but to take Andrew south and present him before King Robert. Not only would Andrew’s fate be determined, the king held her life in the palm of his hand.

  Snapping out of his meditative trance, Lachlan sat bolt upright.

  I cannot sit idle and allow her to be used as a pawn for the benefit of Robert’s kingdom. For the love of God, the woman deserves to be happy. Life is so goddamned short. Christina can’t just obey without standing up for herself.

  Lachlan’s stomach turned over.

  And I cannot stand idly by while she is forced to marry a stranger.

  He glanced to the medallion.

  Do not take me away now, you son of a bitch. I’m not ready.

  He had no sooner sunk back into the warm water when Christina cracked open the door. “May I come in?”

  “Please do.” He beckoned her with a wave of his hand.

  Her grin brightened the chamber. Though she always had a bonny smile, this time, it seemed happier. “I canna believe the change in Andrew.”

  Lachlan grasped the soap and rubbed it under his arm. “He’s not out of the woods yet, but I think I finally got through.”

  She pulled a stool beside the bath and sat. “Do ye thi
nk he’ll fall back?”

  “I’m certain of it, but it’s up to us to watch and control how far. Teenagers are built to rebel by their very nature. It’s what equips them for adulthood.”

  “Ye have no children. How do ye ken all this?”

  “I studied Psychology—um—how people think and I spent years teaching them.”

  “Well I thank ye.” She picked up the medallion and rubbed it between her fingers. When she looked up, her expression of happiness turned to worry. “When?”

  He snatched the bronze from her fingers and slung it across the floorboards. “Do you think for a moment that I’ll stand idle while King Robert holds your future in his hands?”

  Her gaze intensified. “Ye mean to stay?”

  “I do.” He grasped her hand and clutched it over his heart and squeezed his eyes shut. “Dammit, I wish I had more control, I wish I could look at my own destiny, but I cannot. I can only offer you my sword and my love until I vanish into dust.”

  Leaning over, she caressed his forehead with her lips. “But isna that all any man can give?”

  A weight lifted from his shoulders. Did it matter that his life hung on a precipice?

  Hell, yes.

  But what more could he do about it?

  Love her.

  “Take off your clothes,” he said.

  She giggled—a darling sound that made her crystal blue eyes dance with mischief. “Isna the water turning cold?”

  “Not yet. I start with it near scalding.” He flicked a splash onto her hand. “I want you naked.”

  She rubbed her outer arms. “Ye make it sound naughty.”

  He raised his hips up enough to give her a good look at his lengthening erection. “Good. Now untie your kirtle laces.”

  Standing before him, she watched his eyes as she removed her veil and ran her fingers through her glorious hair. She tortured him by slowly untying her kirtle and slipping each arm out, then gradually letting the wool cascade to the floor. Stepping out of her slippers, she pulled the lace on her shift. “Ye turn me wanton.”

  His tongue shot to the corner of his mouth as he watched the pebbles of her nipples strain against the fine linen. “If that’s a bad thing, I never want to be good.”

  In one graceful move, she pulled the linen over her head and took a step nearer. Pert breasts tipped by rose stood proud, ready to be suckled. Simply walking up and down the stairwells and taking care of the keep kept her body toned. Her creamy flesh had never seen the light of day and her curling, hip-length locks caressed her skin in striking contrast. Lachlan rose to his knees and wrapped his fingers around her tiny waist. “You smell like a field of wildflowers.”

  “And ye smell clean and crisp like fresh rain.”

  Sitting back, he guided her into the tub, straddling him. “I missed you,” he whispered.

  “Me as well.” She rocked her hips forward as her soft flesh connected with his cock.

  Lachlan shuddered with the friction. “I’ll never grow tired of your beauty.” He sank his fingers into her soft bum and encouraged her to rub up and down his length. Sliding his hand to her breast, he cupped her as he trailed kisses along her flesh until his tongue found her nipple.

  Christina threw her head back and writhed in tandem with his kisses. “Can we come together like this?”

  A deep chuckle rumbled through his throat. “After all this time, you ought to know we can make love in any position we can imagine.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  As Christina predicted, the remainder of the year flew past. And as Lachlan predicted, Andrew had his ups and downs, though by and by, the lad molded into clan life and grew more accepting of his birthright. He’d spent the summer riding horses with Aileen, which worried Christina, though Lachlan told her to turn a blind eye. Playing the father figure, he’d given her son the appropriate talk to ensure Andrew didn’t do something daft and end up with a bastard.

  With both happiness and impending dread, autumn came and, with it, arrived Sir Boyd. Christina and Lachlan met the great knight in the courtyard.

  “My heavens, ye’re the last person I’d expect to come to call.” She offered her hand, which the knight politely kissed. “What brings ye to the far north?”

  “At the moment, a good tot of whisky.” Sir Boyd grinned and looked to Lachlan. “I’m surprised to see ye’re still here, Wallace.”

  “Walking through time as my mother did.” Lachlan waggled his eyebrows at both of them.

  “Ye are incorrigible,” Christina whispered, swatting his arm.

  Lachlan led the way into the keep. “The pair of you are the only people who know the truth.” He gestured toward the stairwell. “Shall we chat in the privacy of the solar?”

  “Indeed,” Boyd said, following them up the wheeled steps.

  Once inside, Lachlan moved to the sideboard and poured three tots of spirit. Christina smiled inwardly. No man she’d ever met would have even thought to offer her a dram, but Lachlan had a way of treating her like a queen and an equal all at the same time.

  She slipped into a chair, gesturing for Sir Boyd to do the same. “Tell us, what is the nature of your visit?”

  “I’m on a mission for King Robert. I’ve been visiting the northern nobles. We need more conscripts for the borders.”

  “More unrest?” Christina accepted a cup from Lachlan. “Will it never cease?”

  “Unfortunately, things grew worse after the king negotiated the prisoner exchange for his queen.”

  “Elizabeth has been reunited with him?”

  “Aye, but at a cost. Word is the English are planning another invasion.”

  After giving Sir Boyd a dram, Lachlan pulled out a chair for himself. “Really?”

  “I tell ye true,” said Boyd. “Spies loyal to King Edward have infiltrated every corner of the kingdom.”

  Christina leaned forward on her elbows. “Spies?”

  “Aye, ye recall the nobles loyal to England afore the Bruce took charge…and afore that, practically the lot of them walked away from William Wallace—bought by offers of land and riches from Longshanks.”

  “Will it never end?” Christina heaved a long sigh.

  “Only if we strengthen our forces and protect our borders.”

  Lachlan raised his cup. “And insure the greedy nobles remain loyal.”

  Christina met his toast and sipped, waiting until the wee burn in her throat passed. “What do ye need us to do?”

  Boyd gestured his arms wide. “The de Moray presence in the Moray Firth is of utmost importance. But ye are still required to present your son before the king during the Yuletide feasts.”

  “I havena forgotten my promise, not for one minute.”

  “Then I suggest ye make your way to Stirling Castle forthwith.”

  “Stirling?” she asked.

  “Aye, King Robert aims to keep Queen Elizabeth far away from the borders.”

  “I don’t blame him.” Lachlan gave a nod.

  “Me neither,” Christina agreed. “Is it safe to travel with all the spies about? Or should I leave the de Moray army here to guard the fortress?”

  Boyd picked up his cup. “’Tis never safe to travel without a regiment of men. I say leave a henchman here to lead a good fighting force. Ride south with a contingent of twenty men as well as Sir Lachlan—keep him with ye and the lad at all times.”

  “And ye?” Christina asked. “Will ye ride with us?”

  “Unfortunately nay. I have business at Dunnottar Castle afore I can join ye in Stirling.” Boyd threw back the remainder of his whisky and eyed her. “Now tell me true, is the lad ready to pledge fealty to the king?”

  Christina’s fingers began to tremble. “He is.”

  “I agree,” said Lachlan with unfaltering confidence. “I do not believe there is more we can do between now and Christmas.”

  Biting the corner of her lip, she knew he was right. If only she could purchase another year.

  ***

  Days later, L
achlan didn’t know why unease prickled his nape as they prepared to leave Ormond Castle. Maybe it was the wagon with a multitude of Christina’s gowns and other supplies pulled by two enormous oxen. Perhaps the five pack mules laden with tarps, cooking pots and candlesticks. But in all likelihood, the reason for his angst was probably a compilation of everything. Bottom line, he just didn’t feel right. The fact that he was armed with sword, dirk and daggers up his sleeves and in his boots didn’t make him any more comfortable, either.

  Lachlan took up the rear while Hamish led the retinue. The best man for the job, the old guard knew nearly every byway between Avoch and Stirling. If anyone could lead them across the Cairngorms, it was he.

  After they set out, Andrew raced ahead and doubled back several times.

  “We’re nearly to Inverness,” Christina said. “Please stay near me.”

  The lad rolled his eyes. “Ye talk to me like I’m a wee bairn.”

  “Oh? How are ye to protect your mother racing your horse around like ye’re on a picnic?”

  “Lady Christina’s right,” Hamish barked from his place in the lead. “Stay near your mother. Ye never ken when outlaws are lurking in the shadows until they’re upon ye.”

  Lachlan further didn’t like it when Hamish led them straight into the town of Inverness, leading the horses into a yard alongside an alehouse. He spurred his mount straight up to the bumbling man-at-arms. “Why the hell are we stopping?”

  “Supplies, ye maggot.” Hamish hopped down and loosened his horse’s girth strap. “Besides, we always call into Inverness to wet our whistles.”

  Wonderful. They had at least five days of riding ahead of them and they were planning to mosey into an alehouse and inebriate themselves?

  Christina stopped her mount alongside Lachlan’s. “My guess is ye still are not accustomed to these times,” she whispered so no one else could hear.

  “You’ve got that right.” He helped her down and inclined his lips to her ear. “In my time, it takes no more than three hours to drive from Inverness to Stirling.”