Dana smiled. “Into the hall with all of you, dinner’s getting cold.”
Samantha ignored the banter between her companions as she pondered what Boomer had revealed. Faolan expected her to expect him, lightning in a bottle, and the flash point when things clicked into place. All these thoughts merged together to form a shadow across her field of vision. Could there be a flashpoint in the fluid mass that makes up time, or will it pop the proverbial bubble?
Without a break in her even footfalls, Samantha whispered to Boomer, “After dinner, I need an hour or two plugged in.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want to risk another episode.”
“UNK005 has been running some calculations for me. I need to check on the progress. Promise, just a quick log in,” she reassured him.
“I didn’t know you could do that,” Boomer answered.
“I couldn’t before with the big one,” Samantha said. “I pulled a massive amount of data last time and left UNK005 running projections based on the recapture of the other orb and the possibility of failure.”
Boomer nodded and said, “Two hours max, and I stay at your side.”
With a nod, Samantha agreed.
Samantha entered the hall with Boomer at her back. She had been true to her word, and two hours had been all she could handle with UNK005. The probabilities had left her shaken and at a loss, a condition she didn’t quite know how to deal with or readily solve.
Boomer had seen it in her eyes when she disconnected and only asked if she was okay. Physically she was fine, but mentally she was wrung out. She was thankful he had not asked any questions so she did not have to offer any information.
The hall had emptied in the time passed; the families had left. Her men sat at a table passing a pitcher back and forth. Given the butchered song they were spewing, it wasn’t the first one. Her head shook in disgust at their inability to remember all the words to “American Pie.” They should be ashamed of themselves.
“I now know what kept humanity in the dark ages for centuries. You people.” Her comment was met with cheers and laughter.
Weiler offered, “We have room for you two, and Keira is fetching another round.”
Samantha looked across the hall and found Jeff sitting with some of the older Draig warriors. “Go ahead, Boomer. I need to talk to Jeff.” As the big man sat, she placed a hand on his shoulder. “Have them sing something they actually know the words to.” She walked to join the captain. The last thing she paid attention to was Boomer asking how they felt about Coolio.
As she approached the table, she noted the older warriors of the clan who surrounded Jeff. The five men all had some gray in their long hair and lines on their faces.
One of the men rose to his feet and held his cup high. “To the old laird. He died with a sword in his hand.” All six drank to the tribute.
Jeff offered, “There are people I’ve heard of who cry out at the death of a warrior to warn the afterworld a brave and dangerous man is about the join them.” The table broke into yells and screams with fists pounding at his comment.
Samantha leaned in and asked, “Who does that?”
“Klingonsss.” She didn’t miss the slur in the captain’s voice.
At the comment, Samantha let out a light laugh. “Good thing we aren’t contaminating the timeline, Jeff.”
His hand patted the bench. “Sit and have a drink. We’re toasting fallen men, brave deeds, and the promise of tomorrow.”
She sat by his side and took the cup he held out for her. After one swallow, she asked, “What is this?” The taste had been rough, and her throat burned as it went down.
“I think in a few hundred years it may morph into scotch or some form of whiskey. For now, it’s enough to get you drunk,” Jeff said as he poured the remains of the pitcher into the cup.
Another man rose to toast. “To the new laird. May the young pup be worthy of his ancestors and have the strength to survive.” Again, all the men drank deeply from their cups.
Jeff rose. “To this woman’s father. He led by example and treated us all with respect. The world lost more than a great warrior, they lost a leader, a damn good man, and I lost a friend.” Cheers erupted at the toast.
When Jeff sat back down, Samantha asked, “Have you had enough yet?”
“There isn’t enough to erase everything that I’ve seen and done,” Jeff stated as he peered into the empty pitcher.
A full pitcher hit the table, and all the men praised the deliverer, Keira, the housekeeper. She chided, “You dinna need more. Go home to your wives.”
A man said, “Too late, I’m sleeping at this verra table.”
Keira laughed, though she warned, “If you do that, you’ll wake to Dana’s broom upside your head.”
The men seemed to sober at the comment, though all took the liberty of filling their cups and offering a toast, “To Keira, the bringer of drink!”
Samantha chuckled when the woman smacked the man who made the toast on the back of his head. Though they had little direct interaction, she liked the woman. The housekeeper had lived her whole life in the village and had worked in the keep forever. Dana trusted her completely, and that was worth its weight in gold.
It was impossible to miss Jeff’s stare at the woman. Samantha could see why; Keira was attractive. She had long blond hair always kept in a neat braid, an hourglass shape, and blue eyes that were fixated on the drunken captain.
Keira asked, “How long are you going to let him drink like this?”
“Given the conversation we need to have, one more should do it,” Samantha replied.
Jeff turned in slow motion to stare at Samantha. “That bad?”
“Have a drink, and then pour me a big one,” she replied as Keira shooed the warriors away from the table and out of the hall. Samantha heard her clear the soldiers out as well. “Go to bed, Boomer. I’m up as soon as Jeff and I are done.”
Jeff drained the cup. “Thank you for making the singing stop. Think we can teach them some Simon and Garfunkel?”
It was Samantha’s turn to empty the cup. As the drink burned down her throat, she replied, “I doubt it. They seem intent on destroying civilization before it gets going again.” With the cup back on the table, she asked, “Did you enjoy yourself?”
“It was good to sit with men my age again,” Jeff answered. “Before you begin, there are some things we need to go over.”
Samantha nodded and waited for Jeff to finish his hardcore stare at Keira’s backside as she left the hall. “What should we discuss?”
“I like the idea of the men in civilian clothes at night. If this is home, they should dress the part. That being said, there have been some conversations about how much we treat this like home, and a few of the men have asked if they can date. I’ve ignored the questions about rendezvous offers from a few of the young ladies,” Jeff said as he stared at the doorway Keira had vanished through. “Know that I’ve cautioned dating here is a bit different. A few walks in the moonlight and they are probably engaged or something.”
Samantha nodded in agreement. She knew firsthand it took so much less than that. “I don’t think we can order them not to be attracted to someone. Given the circumstances, it seems reasonable to allow it provided they treat the women respectfully and ask permission from family.”
“My thoughts, too,” Jeff said. “You agreed a bit too quickly for someone concerned about time interference and changing the future.”
“Given my work tonight, it doesn’t matter,” Samantha stated. The dread in her heart had crept into her voice.
“Am I drunk enough to hear it?” Jeff asked, reaching for the pitcher.
Samantha intercepted and took the full cup and drained it. When done, she allowed Jeff to fill it for a drink. She said, “UNK005 is concerned about the s
econd time bubble given that the other orb is in the other version of time. The two orbs are meant to be together.”
After draining the drink, Jeff asked, “How bad is it?”
“Bad. For reasons unknown to me, the two need to be together or this bubble loses integrity. All I can decipher is this time sphere was created as an offshoot of my quantum door. The good news is that the probability of this time sphere mirroring ours is a given. We could write history before it happens here. There is a low probability of the world war we left, which again is good news. Our initial mission has been met,” Samantha stated with confidence.
“The problem lies in the orbs being separated. Again, for reasons beyond my scope of understanding, they need to be in the same time bubble or the bubbles will merge of their own accord.”
“Is that the bad part?” Jeff asked.
“Yes, that’s the bad part,” Samantha said as she tried to think of a way to make the complex situation simple. She settled for, “One of the bubbles will pop, and I believe it will be this one if the two orbs are kept apart. There is also the potential that if the bubbles merge both will pop.”
Jeff took another swallow. “I like this bubble.”
“Since this one doesn’t seem to end with the destruction of the planet in the early part of the twenty-first century, I tend to agree with you. UNK005 doesn’t sense it being found in this time bubble.” Samantha took a turn with the cup.
“Watch that stuff . . . it catches up fast,” Jeff cautioned as she took another sip. “So we still definitely, without a doubt, and with all great certainty, need to go back and get the other UNK005?”
“You’re extremely verbose when you drink,” Samantha commented. “But you are correct, we need to go back. For this bubble to remain, the two UNK005s need to be stored here together. The problem is, I still haven’t found the way.”
Jeff wrapped his arm around her shoulder and offered a light squeeze before placing a kiss to her head. “You will. How much time is there before we pop?”
With the thought she should have used a different analogy, Samantha said, “Time isn’t really the issue, but for your peace of mind, let’s just say a few months. The issue is still how.”
“Well, in that case, I’m going to bed. We can worry about it tomorrow,” Jeff said as he staggered to his feet.
Samantha caught him right before his knees buckled. With his weight on her shoulders, she said, “Nice to know the end of existence doesn’t bother you.”
Jeff shifted enough to brace her shoulder under his arm and said, “Right now I’m more concerned that the drink appears to have cut off my legs. Can you feel your legs? Can you feel mine?”
As she dragged the drunk captain out of the hall and toward the barracks, she answered, “Don’t worry, we all still have legs.” However, hers weren’t as stable as she would have preferred. Jeff wasn’t kidding because the drink definitely packed a wallop.
She would have made it to the barracks if he hadn’t started humming. The only option was to answer his song with the mandatory conclusion, “Pop goes the weasel.” Then they both lost themselves in laughter and landed on the hard stones only a few feet from the barrack door.
Jeff looked up with laughter’s tears in his pale blue eyes. “You should say ‘pop goes existence.’”
The laughter died in her throat as she whispered, “I can’t laugh about it. While attempting to prevent a war, I may have inadvertently threatened everything. I had no right—”
Jeff cut her off. “No one else tried to stop it, only you. If it all ends tomorrow, it’s okay by me. I spent a day doing honest work in the sunshine with good men. I spent an evening flirting with a pretty woman who winked at me. I spent the night drinking with men who understand how rare it is to be an old warrior. Would I like more? You bet I would. But that might just be too greedy.”
“What harm can there be in a man seeking all from this life?” Faolan asked as he crouched beside them.
Jeff wagged a finger and said, “You’re getting better at sneaking up on us.”
Samantha looked up as Faolan roared with laughter. There were small braids that held his light hair from his tanned face. She groaned at the realization she had missed him. She had missed his stories at dinner, the way he filled her plate with food, and the constant care in her comfort. His smile wasn’t there to brighten her day, and his flirtatious nature had been absent. There wasn’t enough of whatever the drink was to make that a good observation.
“You have been sampling the strong drink,” Faolan said as he pulled Jeff to his feet.
“I sampled it hours ago. It was the indulging that caused the problem,” Jeff replied as he let Faolan take his weight. He pointed at the barracks. “If you can get me to the door, I can find my bunk.”
When she saw Jeff being led into the barracks, she rose to her feet, only slightly slowed down by the long skirts. Faolan’s laughter echoed through the quiet night as she assumed the thud was Jeff finding his bunk. The curses clearly came from the men whose sleep had been disturbed.
It was mission accomplished as far as all men tucked in for the night. She turned to go back to the keep and was stopped mid-step by Faolan’s arm around her waist from behind.
“How much did you sample?” Faolan asked as he pulled her tight against his chest.
Her eyes gazed down at the muscled arm, and she said, “Not nearly as much as Jeff but enough to know tomorrow is going to be rough.”
Faolan’s head dipped to place the whisper against the shell of her ear, “Can you answer my question yet?”
Samantha wanted to believe her eyes rolled in their sockets due to the audacity of the question and not his warm breath caressing her delicate skin. But that thought was futile since her mind used the word caressed. Even with the sensory stimulation, the question bothered her, as did the answer.
With a quick move, she stepped out of his hold and turned to face him. She looked up at his expectant expression. “You expected me to expect you to be there when I woke up.”
“I did,” Faolan said with a triumphant smile crossing his lips.
“Well, I didn’t expect you to be there. We just met, and despite your claims of my dragon and object of power knowing you, I barely know you,” Samantha said as she crossed her arms in a clear hostile stance.
She didn’t miss Faolan’s gaze leaving her eyes to settle on the cleavage revealed by her dress. Samantha snarled, “If you want to talk, my eyes are up here.”
“The green fire is a sight I shall never tire of, Samantha. However, this night you have presented a vision for me to feast upon.” Faolan closed the small distance between them. “How fine you look dressed as a lass.”
“I’ve always been a lass, I mean woman, even in pants.”
Tingles shot through her stomach when Faolan lifted a finger to trace the edge of the bodice of the gown. Goosebumps rose over the swell of her breasts as his finger gently traced the skin exposed.
“The word you seek is trews, and you look fine in them. But ‘tis how you should be attired.” A half smile crossed his face. “Take down your hair for me.”
The request caught her off guard as she realized her body was being far too compliant. She sucked in air if only to offer his finger more to touch. The goosebumps were rapidly becoming something warm and tingly. Samantha looked into his face only to see him mesmerized by his finger that continued to trace a lingering path on her skin at the edge of the fabric.
Aren’t I supposed to be irritated with him? It had bothered her to no end that he just asked, “What happened?” for days and then left. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew he asked for too much. She had no real reason to expect him anywhere. Yet since the night in question, he had stayed away. Faolan had remained doting and accommodating, but there had been no promised goodnight kiss. Dism
ay filled her that she wanted the kiss, or at least the whiskey-like substance clouding her mind did.
With forced concentration, Samantha stepped back away from his touch. She couldn’t cope with the combination of the drink and the heat from his skin. The desire he created was a force she couldn’t and didn’t want to handle. Desire had no place in her mind that raced with questions and concerns over the fabric of reality and the prevention of a war.
As Faolan stepped forward to close the small distance between them, she challenged, “Take down my hair? Why in the world would I take down my hair? How does that solve anything?”
“It would answer my question of how your hair would feel within my hand when dry.”
The laughter at his impudent statement choked in her throat and came out as a sob. “You don’t understand . . . it doesn’t matter . . . there may be nothing left because of me.”
The weight of it all crashed down as if gravity crushed her being. As her knees buckled, the realization came that the alcohol had been another mistake. It was impossible to be strong when left weak. The several cups had cut the last ounce of strength left in her soul.
Samantha never hit the stones of the courtyard. Faolan caught her and lifted her body within his arms and cradled her as if she were a small child. The movement of his steps was felt but not seen while she cried into her hands. All she knew was that he sat, and she curled into the warmth of his body with her head buried in his neck.
With a hand against her back and one stroking her head, Faolan said, “If my touch bothers you, I will cease.”
Again, choked laughter stuck in her throat. Samantha knew he thought it was because he touched her in the courtyard and guilt weighed heavy. She said, “This has nothing to do with you.” But even that was a lie.
Time of the Draig Page 16
