by 33 authors
“Everything you need is in that file. You can key in the coordinates yourself. Don’t forget to change. You know the drill.” With that, Jackson turned and walked away.
Yeah, he knew the drill.
Declan had just returned from 1942 and was dressed as a soldier. He’d see Ginny in wardrobe for his new clothes later. Figuring he’d shower in his office, he marched down the hall. Hell he spent more time there than he did in his apartment, that everything he needed was already here. He hoped his fish hadn’t died this time. Maybe it was time to admit that he didn’t even have time in his life for fish? Sighing, he ran his hand through his hair. It was longer than anyone else’s in the Time Ops department, but he went undercover the most. Hard to blend in when you had a high and tight cut.
After his shower, Declan walked into his office to see that Ginny had already stopped by. His latest costume hung from the doorframe. Yeah he called it a costume, because nothing beat a pair of jeans and a shirt, yet all of his jobs involved pantaloons, breeches, knee-high socks and high heels, or in his case today, a kilt and shirt.
Declan was one of the Time Ops’ best agents. He was a chameleon and could blend in anywhere, any time. And that was what made him so good.
Originally from Scotland, he was the best agent for this job. Not to mention he’d dealt with the MacRaes before. Booting up his computer, Declan plugged in the flash drive and prepared for his next mission.
* * *
CHAPTER 2
Spring, Scotland 1792
“Stop! Och, stop! You’ll drown yourself, ye daft bampot.” Beitiris’s voice echoed around Fiona, but she paid her no mind.
Beitiris was struggling to keep up with her cousin Fiona. Fiona McClure wanted to swim across the widest part of Loch to prove she could, and her cousin just didn’t understand that. Fiona was tired of being treated as if she were made of spun glass. She no longer was the sickly child who couldn’t go outside. She was two and twenty now, and completely healthy. If this didn’t show her da and brothers, nothing would.
Stripping efficiently to her pink sark, Fiona stepped into the cold water of the loch. Her breath seized, and for a moment, she thought she might have an episode. She firmly pushed the old fear out of her mind as she waded further out. As the water grew deeper and her feet could no longer touch the muddy ground, Fiona began a slow but steady swim across the loch.
“I’m getting your brothers, and ye can answer to them if ye willna listen to me,” Beitiris called after her, but Fiona kept swimming, counting her breaths, keeping each one even. Her father refused to let her marry until she was well, and while she didn’t exactly have anyone in mind, she wanted children. Her friends all had married and moved on while Fiona moldered in her rooms.
Well no longer.
Not wanting to ruin her rhythm, Fiona took a careful glance around on her next breath, and realized she was actually doing it. She was more than halfway across the loch. Pausing to tread water and revel, she ducked her head under and surfaced with a whoop! Her father would have to believe that she was healthy now, he had to. Never again would she watch life pass by through her windows, Fiona would finally be a part of the world.
That was when something grabbed her, yanking her to a hard, warm body and dragged her through the water.
Was she being abducted? Fiona bit, kicked and slapped at her attacker, hoping he’d let her go. If she could swim quickly enough below the surface, she might be able to escape. They were at peace with the MacLeods, so she knew it couldn’t be one of them, but who? Who would kidnap a chieftain’s daughter?
The second he stepped out of the water, Fiona kicked him as hard as she could in the place her brother Ian had told her about. Her knee met flesh, and the man dropped to his knees.
“Christ woman, are you trying to geld me?” The rich, deep voice had her whipping around to face the man.
“What do you think you’re doing, dragging me about like that?”
“I heard you screaming. You were drowning,” Declan wasn’t sure who this hellion was, but her wet sark plastered to her body made it hard to concentrate on her words. Christ but she was beautiful. And it was pink. He was no expert on ladies undergarments, but he was pretty sure they weren’t typically pink.
“I was not!” her temper flared. “Nay, you simply canna pluck a woman from the loch and pull her out for your own purposes. I was swimming.” She gave Declan a look that clearly showed what she thought of his intelligence. “A braw man such as you ought to ken the difference between a woman who is swimming and one who is drowning. What are you planning to do with me? Ransom me? I’ll have you know my father willna pay, rather it’s you who’ll pay. He’ll bring his warriors down here to retrieve me, and you’ll be left bluidy and deid.”
“Are you finished, lass?” Declan was on his feet now, and arms crossed, he stared at her.
Her heaving breaths once more drew his attention down to her chest. A gentleman would give her his plaid, or even his blanket in the bag he carried. But Declan was in no mood to play the gentleman. He’d tried once, and look where it had gotten him—an arse-chewing by a wet girl.
The girl’s mouth dropped. She sucked in a breath, ready to launch into another tirade, he supposed, but he stopped her. “Lass, I thought you were in need of help. You were screaming in the middle of the loch and splashing about. I beg your pardon for saving you and bringing you to shore. If you’d like, I’d be more than happy to pick you up and dump you back in the water.”
Her mouth snapped shut with a click.
Straightening up, she glared at him as haughtily as any princess, “I doona ken who you are, or where you’re from, but you’re on MacLeod land and they doona care for strangers mucking about.”
His lips fought a smile. The minx was saucy, he’d give her that. His gaze dipped once more to her sodden pink undergarments. And well-endowed. Forcing his gaze back to her eyes, blue eyes the color of the loch, he saw when the moment of clarity hit her; where she realized she was alone, nearly naked, and with a stranger. She started to edge back into the water.
“Oh no you don’t.” Declan caught her by the arm.
The loch wasn’t very wide across, so when the shouts from the group of men on the other side rose up, both Declan and the lass could hear it clearly.
“That would be my da’s men, come to fetch me back, so if you’ve any impure ideas about me going through that lump you call a noggin, you’ll have to just forget them.”
Lord but this lass was mouthy. Declan’s eyes dropped to her lips, where he spent a moment imagining all the ways he could keep her mouth occupied that didn’t involve her berating him.
“What’s your name?” He couldn’t help himself; he had to know.
“Lady Fiona McClure,” she murmured, barely acknowledging him. Instead she gazed across the loch at her father’s men, who were pointing at her.
“Ahh, you must be the McClure’s daughter then.” It explained her haughty demeanor.
“Aye, and here he comes, off to fetch me like an errant child.” He couldn’t stop the smile that twitched his lips. She was just so cute with her full lips pouting down.
“I take it you doona care to be fetched?” Declan couldn’t help teasing her.
“Och, nay, not if it means he treats me as a child. I’m two and twenty, long past my childhood.”
By this time the men had fetched boats and were rowing across the loch.
Declan was tempted to toss her over his shoulder and take off, but he needed to see if anyone suspected that the MacRae men had women from different times. What better way than acquainting himself with the McClure?
Bracing himself for what was sure to be a proper Highland welcome, Declan kept his hands loose and at the ready, while he prepared to be surrounded by the men of her clan.
The focus wasn’t on him, as he’d thought it might be. Instead, Fiona’s father stormed over to the lass and gripped her by her upper arms. Declan thought the man nearly shook her, but seemed to control
the urge.
“Fiona, what do y’think you’re doin’ out here? My daughter tells me she’ll be out picking wildflowers, and instead I hear she’s swum across the loch? What manner of foolishness is this?”
“‘Tis no’ foolishness Father, I did swim across the loch, just as my brothers have, just as you have. Mayhap now you’ll see I’m no’ so fragile as you believe.”
Declan had to admire her bravery, but he could see she was in no danger from her father. There was obvious affection between them.
One of the men had brought forth a plaid from a boat, and the McClure wrapped it snugly around his daughter.
“This was to prove yourself to me? Daughter, you are no’ one of my warriors, you are a lady. You should be inside working on your needlepoint, no’ frolicking out here in front of strange men.”
Declan was now the center of attention and realized two things. One, he hadn’t escaped notice; the older man was every bit as aware of his surroundings as Declan was. And two, the men were well trained. Without a word, each man had inched around until Declan would either have to fight or surrender.
“You are no’ one of the MacLeod warriors. I would ken your name.”
“Declan Wallace, Laird.”
“Ye ken who I am?”
“Aye.” Declan inclined his head ever so slightly.
A grunt was his response.
The lass wouldn’t keep quiet though.
“Father, I was no’ frolicking around with a stranger!” She looked so frustrated, Declan thought she might actually stomp her foot. “I swam across the loch. By myself. Now can you understand I doona need your guards on me?”
“Daughter we will discuss this later.”
With no more than a head nod in his direction, Declan knew that he would be captured. And he allowed it. Without taking his eyes from her father’s, Declan felt himself divested of all weapons. The only thing that mattered to him was his way home, and that was around his neck. When a hand reached for it, Declan gripped the man’s wrist, and addressed the laird directly.
“You’ll not be taking that. It was my mother’s.” The laird nodded, and Declan released the man’s arm. With one last look at Fiona, Declan allowed himself to be hauled away.
* * *
CHAPTER 3
The dungeon was exactly what one would imagine a dungeon looked like. It wasn’t Declan’s first, and he was sure it wouldn’t be his last. His line of work was dangerous, and policing time infractions didn’t always endear one to his host. Although this was the first time he’d been thrown in a dungeon for reasons not work-related.
A scratching sound to his left caught his attention, and he was stunned to see the MacRae laird step from behind a loose rock.
“Hallo, Declan Wallace, well met.”
Declan nodded at Connor MacRae.
The laird’s brother Liam stepped out as well, “Mayhap not as well met as yesterday, aye Wallace?”
The bad joke earned a grunt from Declan. “What are you doing here?”
“Saving your arse, ye ingrate,” Liam said looking about the dungeon.
“My arse is fine.”
“Oh aye, we can see tha’ you’re in the McClure’s dungeon enjoying his hospitality.”
“Wheest Liam,” Connor interrupted. “Wallace, we’ve some news. There’s a rumor of someone from your time in London. I’m no’ sure if she’s still there, but the source is reliable.”
Declan knew he’d have to tell his superiors about this, but for all he knew it was a routine assignment. However, routine assignments meant undercover. Either someone’s cover was blown, or someone was flaunting the rules. Yet all Declan cared about was a lass in a pink sark who’d swum across a loch just to prove she could.
His attention switched back to the MacRae brothers and he nodded at them. “Aye, you’ve my thanks. I’ll find out what happened.”
“I ken it. It’s why we’ve come to you. Now, would you like us to help you out of this dungeon?”
“Nay. I’ve yet to speak with the McClure, and he’s the reason I’m here. I canna leave without finding out if he suspects anything about your women.”
Connor’s gaze sharpened. “Our women?”
“Aye, if he knows they’re from another time, it could prove dangerous to you and them.”
“We protect our own, Wallace.” Connor’s smile was more a baring of teeth than a smile.
“I’m on your side, MacRae. I merely want to hear if there are any rumors going ‘round.”
Exhaling a rough breath, Connor relaxed and nodded his head. “Aye, then. Send word once you’ve a better understanding of what’s happening here. You’ve our support, should you need it.”
With a nod at both men, Declan turned his back as they slipped out. A scrabbling noise followed by footsteps had him turning around again. The footfall was too light to be one of the warriors. A young lad come with food perhaps? His stomach rebelled at the thoughts of what his meal might be. Prisoners weren’t exactly given the best the laird had to offer.
The slight figure that popped into view was not that of a lad.
“Lady Fiona.”
Looking proud of herself, she tossed her now dry hair back over her shoulders and thrust her stubborn chin up.
“My father says you’re here to steal me away. Is that true?” Her lovely blue eyes flashed with mischief.
“Your father said that?” Rubbing the back of his neck, Declan met her eyes. “And what did you say about it?”
She dropped her bold gaze. “I told him that nothing so exciting ever happens around here.”
“And adventure is what you’re looking for is it, Lady Fiona?” Declan’s voice had deepened at the thoughts of all the excitement he could show her.
Her lashes lifted slowly, her blue eyes finding his. Perhaps sensing the danger in her answer, she didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to; Declan knew what she craved.
His fingers wrapped around the bars of his prison, squeezing until his knuckles whitened. He couldn’t be what she wanted. He forced a mocking smile.
“Ah, lass, I doona want to break your heart.”
Stunned, she sucked in a breath. “Who’s to say I won’t break yours?”
Aye, mayhap she was right, Declan thought. For the first time in his life, he was in danger from something he had no control over, and that scared him.
* * *
What was she doing? Fiona had been asking herself that question ever since daring to steal down to the dungeon. But something about this prisoner of her father’s called to her. She felt a bone-deep urge to be near him, to…well to something but she didn’t know what. She kept her gaze on his. She’d wager he knew what she needed. His dark brown eyes pierced hers. Unable to look away she held his stare. She didn’t notice his fingers until they slid down her cheek to her mouth. But she felt them, oh Lord she felt them. The calluses, the warmth, the slight tremble. He wasn’t as unaffected as he appeared.
He barely touched her, but the warmth seeped into her bones, and she spoke against his finger, “Who are you?” She wasn’t asking his name, and he didn’t pretend to misunderstand.
“No one,” he said, his voice flat. He pulled his finger away leaving behind a tingling sensation that lingered far longer than it should have.
“You should leave, Lady Fiona. Before your father finds out you’re down here.”
He was looking out for her. It was sweet. Misguided, but sweet. As he pulled his fingers from the bars, she placed hers where his had been. He was still close enough she could feel his breath against her hair. She tipped her face to meet his gaze better.
“You think of me as my father does.”
His eyes widened, then dropped and leisurely made their way down her body, then just as slowly back up. When he met her gaze once more, his eyebrow quirked.
“Lass, I guarantee that I doona think any fatherly thoughts when I look at you.”
Cheeks burning, Fiona snapped, “Ye think I’m impulsive and childish.
I dinna wake up and swim a loch because I was bored. I showed my father that I can do anything. He thinks I’m still a child but I’m no’.”
Chest heaving, Fiona dared this man to disagree.
But his attention was no longer on her. He was staring in the direction of the door.
“What is it?”
“Lass, can ye find another way out of here?”
“Why would I need to?”
“This may get ugly.”
“What are you talking about?” Surely he couldn’t mean that he’d be tortured? “My father would never have you tortured.”
Never looking from the stairs, he snapped, “Fiona, go! Hide, whatever you have to do to get out of here. These are no’ your father’s men.”
Fiona wanted to argue longer, but the footsteps were louder now. She darted to a darkened corner and hid.
* * *
CHAPTER 4
The heavy boots were much louder than anything from this time would be. Instinctively Declan knew that this was related to the trouble the MacRaes had warned him of. There was no way it was a coincidence.
Four men came down the stairs, not bothering to keep quiet, and all men were dressed in modern Special Ops gear. Black boots, gloves, combat gear. Declan knew the uniform well; he’d worn it many times himself.
“Declan Wallace, you’re under arrest for failing to report a temporal disturbance.”
“What disturbance? I haven’t finished my investigation, therefore I haven’t given my report. ” This was going to be bad.
“Pertaining to case file 112563, you have a time infraction.”
“I haven’t worked on case 112563.”
“Yet.”
“I’m to be arrested for a case I haven’t investigated?” His voice had deepened menacingly and he saw one of the agents step back before he caught himself.
