Chapter Thirteen
After hardly sleeping the night before, Helen shoved aside the plush blankets on the softest bed she’d every lay and moved to the hearth to stoke the smoldering logs. The room was small compared to the one Simon slept in, but larger than the one in her apartment in California. The solitude of the past few hours helped ground her thoughts. For the first time in her life, she was surrounded by a loving family who thought of each other first, then thought of the world second. They accepted her as if they knew she was coming, and as if she’d play a vital part in their lives.
Throughout the previous evening, she was assured they’d help her find a way home. The only guarantees Helen had in her life were the ones she made happen so to trust in the Clan MacCoinnich was a huge step. She’d put aside her worry about being trapped in time and bask in the world unfolding in front of her.
She’d always appreciated art in its many forms. The tapestries, paintings, candelabras, and furnishings were all pieces of art that would sell in the thousands if not millions. Everything she saw had a practical use—well most of it. Tapestries and rugs kept the walls and floors warm. Still the cold from outside seeped into the rooms and reminded you there wasn’t any central heating system to ward off the chill.
The paintings were the only snapshots in time. Something Tara had encouraged the family to commission. Ian and Lora’s portrait dominated the main hall. Duncan and Tara along with Myra and Todd, Fin and Lizzy all had their portraits along the galley at the top of the stairs. Helen wondered where the paintings were in her century. She’d not seen them before, or she’d have remembered them. Maybe a private collector or a distant relative kept them hidden. She made a mental note to search them out when she returned home.
Helen poured water into a basin and washed away some of the sleep from her eyes.
Amber had told her to prepare for a solid day of learning the ways of Scotland in the sixteenth century. “Open your eyes and ears, but say little unless to me or the family. Best not to call attention to yourself.”
Impossible. Already the maids eyed her with cautious unease.
A soft knock on the door pulled Helen out of her thoughts.
“Come in.”
Amber glided into the room with two maids at her heels. “Good morning to you, Helen. I hope you slept well.”
“I did,” she lied.
“This is Lita and her sister Anabel. Both work wonders with a needle and thread and will help us tailor a few things for you to wear.”
The maids actually dipped into short curtseys before unloading their hands of the yards of material they carried.
Helen started to protest, but a stern look from Amber had her shutting her mouth before uttering a syllable. Open your eyes, close your mouth. I guess the lessons begin now.
Amber crossed to the window and opened the heavy blinds. The milky dawn of Scotland didn’t stop the glare of light from pouring into the room.
Within an hour Lita and Anabel had all the measurements they needed and were busy hand stitching clothing for Helen to wear. At home, Helen’s wardrobe consisted of clothing made in China or Taiwan. To have something not only tailored to her, but handmade, was truly jaw-dropping.
Once the maids left the room, Amber opened the conversation about her near future. “It took time for Lizzy and Tara to accommodate to the clothing we wear here. As I’m sure I’ll have to adjust when I travel with you.” As she spoke, a shadow of excitement washed over her face.
“Do Tara and Lizzy ever wear clothes from the future?”
“At times, though not often any more. And never in front of nonfamily members.”
Amber helped her into the second dress set aside for her the day before. As they spoke, Amber pulled on the corded fastening on the back of the gown. Helen wouldn’t look at a zipper again in the same way. Little connecting metal teeth did wonders to fashion.
“I don’t think I could wear this every day.”
Amber laughed.
“You’ve heard that before, haven’t you?”
“Lizzy complained the most and still refuses a corset more often than not.”
“You’ll understand her frustration when you come home with us.”
“Aye, you have the right of it.”
Why was it Amber was resolved to shoot hundreds of years into the future without showing a nerve?
“Tell me, what is your strength?”
Helen moved to a chair and pulled a brush through her hair. Amber followed her and took the brush from her hand to finish the task. Helen didn’t have girlfriends and seldom had another person brush her hair outside of a salon. This quiet moment caught her in her chest. “I’m a photographer.”
Amber waved a hand in the air. “Not your job, though the thought of women working as anything but maids and merchants still baffles me, but your Druid strength?”
“Oh, that. I’m not sure how to explain it.”
Amber dropped the brush and proceeded to pull strands of hair together in a small intricate braid, pulling only small amounts of hair as she went. Out of a pocket in the fold of her dress, she produced a copper color ribbon and wove it into Helen’s hair. “Try.”
“When I’m searching for something, or someone, I feel, eh, energy I guess you might call it. Kind of like dogs knowing where something is by scent.”
Amber kept weaving, her hands steady. “Can you control it?”
“I’m not sure what there is to control. The feeling is there or it isn’t.”
“Does it overwhelm you?”
“Only when I find what I’m looking for. The air feels thick, like humidity on a hot day.”
Amber’s fingers stilled. “But it vanished quickly?”
“Yeah.”
Helen heard Amber swallow and before she turned her head. A brief unease shifted in Amber’s gaze and she went back to Helen’s hair. “Now that you know your gift is a skill much like stitching a skirt, or weaving hair, it grows with practice.”
“I wouldn’t have a clue how to practice.”
Amber finished her task and laid her hands on Helen’s shoulders. “My family can help.”
“Getting me home is a priority, not sharpening my Druid skills.”
“That is where you’re wrong. You’re here for a reason. ’Tis important to learn all you can before returning.”
“You sound like some divine intervention happened. I stumbled on the necklace by accident and ended up here searching for a lost child.”
“But you found a man, a warrior worthy of your attention.”
Helen met Amber’s gaze and felt her cheeks flush. “Simon’s easy on the eyes, but we come from two different worlds.”
“You come from the exact same world.”
Okay, maybe they did. Still, his life was clearly in the sixteenth century while hers wasn’t. “He’s kissed me, but that’s all.”
Amber smiled and said nothing. Helen remembered that Amber’s empathic gift gave her the advantage in their conversation.
“I’m not relationship material. Hell, I don’t even date.”
One brow on Amber’s face lifted.
Helen pushed from the chair afraid of what Amber might see if she chose to dig deeper into her mind. “I don’t know what you guys eat for breakfast around here, but I’m starving.” Maybe changing the subject would help.
Before she reached the door to the room, Amber laid a hand on her arm. “Somewhere deep inside you’ve been hurt. I won’t pry, but if you ever want to talk, I’m here.”
An instant surge of tears filled Helen’s eyes. For a non-emotional woman, the feeling left her disjointed and bare. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Amber dropped her hand and her eyes. “As you wish.”
“I wish for food.”
As they made their way down the same massive staircase, the sound of men’s voices shouted from the hall below.
“They attack from the North and the East, the village is directly in their path.”
Amber held her arm out to stop Helen’s descent. They leaned over the banister and listened. From the sound of the voices, and the sheer number of men gathered below, Helen thought an entire army had assembled in the Keep.
“What’s going on?” she whispered to Amber who glanced over the rail with white knuckles.
“An attack, I think.”
Attack? “You mean here?”
“Close enough to drive my father’s men inside.”
Her father’s men. As in, his army. Dozens of fierce warriors all with fierce swords and unnamed weapons kept filling the room. Some walked around Ian, Simon, Fin, Duncan, Cian, and Todd and warmed themselves by the fire as if they had walked into their own home. Worry crept into Helen’s thoughts. “I don’t understand.”
Amber placed a hand on Helen’s and winced as if burned. After pulling her hand away, she said. “Don’t fret. My father is a very powerful Laird with many men in his service. We’ll be fine.”
The sound of several small feet tapped behind them. Helen turned to see many of the MacCoinnich children gathered. “What’s happened?” one of them asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Shh!” Briac, the oldest of the children scolded. “Listen.”
“Trevor and his party met with trouble past the moor. ‘Twas only a band of scouts and easily deterred.”
“There are others?” Ian asked.
“Aye, many.”
“And growing.”
“’Tis as if they lay in wait, for their numbers to increase.”
Even from the balcony Helen could see the tension in Ian’s shoulders, could see Simon clenching his fists.
Something was terribly wrong.
* * * *
There was a large sitting room on the same floor as the bedrooms in the main wing of the Keep. Amber explained that its use was mainly a room for the children to play. Several chairs were brought in and many of the children’s things were removed to accommodate the MacCoinnich family.
The main hall of the Keep was littered with warriors. Some rolled out bedding while others fell asleep against walls. A steady stream of people filled the home and the surrounding courtyard and garrison.
Apparently a village nearby was threatened and Ian ordered its occupants to the safety of the castle.
Helen observed everything as an outsider. History unfolded before her eyes as she watched a Highland clan prepare for attack. There were high towers in the Keep where some men stood guard. The elderly from the village were given rooms inside while the majority of villagers sheltered in tents throughout the yard. Helen couldn’t go anywhere without running into someone. That alone astonished her considering how huge the MacCoinnich Keep was. Only a day before the place appeared massive. Now it felt cramped. Not to mention some of the Scottish accents were terribly thick, and the words used so foreign, that she couldn’t understand what people were saying.
Simon hadn’t made a direct appearance all day. Tara and Lora kept the family aware of what happened below through their wacky ability to speak to their spouses with their minds. Maids hustled in providing food but quickly scurried out to meet the needs of the gathering men below.
Amber retreated to her room and Helen now sat with Liz, Simon’s mother, who might be older but certainly didn’t resemble anyone used to what was happening around them.
“How are you holding up?” Liz asked.
Helen thought before answering the question. Threats were coming from all sides. There wasn’t any room that she knew of to escape. But then again, maybe Liz knew something Helen didn’t. “How are you holding up?” Best way to answer a question when you’re not sure of all the possible answers was to ask a question of one’s own.
“I’m scared shitless.”
The expletive made Helen smile. Simon’s mother might be dressed medieval style but she spoke completely twenty-first century when cornered. “Me, too.”
“We’ll be okay.”
“How can you be sure?”
Liz glanced over at Tara and Myra who were consoling the children. “We’ve been against worse.”
“Back home one man is following me and I thought it was the end of the world. Seems there’s a whole army out there coming down on us. I’m not sure what is worse.”
Liz nodded. “Magical is much harder to deal with than physical.”
“Am I supposed to know what that means?”
“No, I guess you don’t.” Liz took a deep breath and continued. “There are enemies approaching with swords and cannons, arrows and fire. But these are physical. There are very definite ways of defeating them—”
“Or losing to them and ending up lying in a pool of blood.”
Liz shot a look at the kids but Helen was careful with the tone of her voice.
“Ya, well,” Liz continued. “There are ways to physically defeat your enemy. When you’re dealing with magic the sky is the limit in possible outcomes.”
“You’re talking fire balls and moving objects with your mind. Not that I get any of that, but okay, I see where there might be an element of surprise. Still, eventually you’ll know what’s coming if you observe.”
“Fire balls and telekinesis is the least of what we’ve seen.”
Helen ignored the edge in Liz’s voice. “I forgot premonition and empathy.” There were other things Simon had said his family was capable of, but Helen hadn’t heard much of his unbelievable splatter.
“You really have very little idea what we’re capable of.”
“I’m held up in a medieval castle while some crazy war is being strategized below. Seems to me like we’re hiding and waiting for others to determine our future. I’m not sure how stoking a fire or making a clock fly across the room is going to help anything.”
Liz’s blue eyes caught Helen’s. A flicker of surprise shuttered behind her gaze before a knowing smile spread over her lips. Maybe fate took a hand when Tara walked their way and she interrupted. “Simon is on his way back. We should know more soon.”
Helen’s back stiffened. “Back? Where’s he been?” The thought of him out among their enemies made her heart beat a little faster.
Tara glanced at Liz. After a nod she continued. “Scouting.”
One answer.
Not one she liked.
“Alone?”
The question didn’t raise any alarm with the women. Both of them nodded.
Helen’s heart skipped a beat. “You let your son go out alone when an army is trying to beat the walls of the ton of bricks down?” Her voice rose and several anxious faces turned her way.
“He won’t be seen.”
How could Tara be so sure one man on a lone horse wouldn’t be seen? Suddenly the need to see Simon in one solid masculine piece overwhelmed all other needs. Helen stood and ran her suddenly damp palms along the confining dress she wore.
“You don’t know, do you?”
“Know what? That it’s crazy to send one man by himself to scout an army? I know that’s crazy.” Helen headed for the door. A Keep full of medieval men be damned. She wanted to know Simon was healthy and wasn’t going to let anyone stand in her way in seeing it with her own eyes. Then she might have a word or two with Laird Ian. Who the hell sends a solo man to do the job of a small army? Helen may have skipped a class or two in history, but even she knew that wasn’t a very successful strategic plan.
She made it past the door and a few steps down the hall before Liz caught up with her. “You’re going the wrong way.”
Helen stopped and turned toward Simon’s mother. “I want to see that he’s not coming back half-dead.”
“And you think I’m all kinds of terrible for not running with you.”
“Well, yeah, I do.”
Liz held out a thick piece of plaid and thrust the material into Helen’s arms. “He’ll need this and you’ll find him at the highest peak.” Liz shifted against a stone wall and pointed down a dark hall. “Go up these stairs and turn left. You’ll find a spiral of stai
rs that branch off to several floors. Don’t stop until you’re at the very last door. Once you’re passed through there, an even darker hall will lead you to three more doors. Open the second one and wait.”
Dark halls and doors? What did this have to do with Simon?
“I love my son, Helen. Maybe after you speak with him, you’ll have a better grasp of what’s happening around you. You have to trust us in order to work with us. The sooner that happens, the better.”
Helen glanced beyond Liz and down the dark passage.
“Here’s a candle.”
Great, like the small stub of a candle would help. What if she got lost?
Though Helen didn’t remember Simon saying anything about his mother reading minds beyond his, the strangest words came out of Liz’s mouth. “And if the candle goes out, cowboy up and try something new. Look at any sconce on the wall, get good and pissed, scared or any damn thing. Think of a firecracker on the Fourth of July and watch that sucker light your way.”
Helen felt her brow crease. The noise from the hall below grew louder.
“I know you’re scared right now. I know you don’t understand what you’ve gotten into. But the sooner you’re up to speed, the easier it will be for everyone.”
Cian bounded up the steps behind them and stopped when he saw them speaking. “Excuse me.”
“It’s okay, we’re done here.” Liz stood back giving Helen room to walk beyond her.
“I’m fetching Simon.”
“It’s okay, Helen’s all over it. Aren’t you, Helen?” There was a challenge in Liz’s voice.
“Up the stairs and turn left?”
Liz nodded.
Fine. “Fine,” she repeated aloud.
Helen turned and placed one foot in front of the other. Once the casting of light Liz held in her hand was behind her, Helen started toward the stairwell.
“You know she’s unaware of what she’ll find, right?” Cian’s question to Liz made Helen hesitate.
“The sooner she learns the truth, the better.”
“I’ll tell my father to expect a delay. But he won’t wait long.”
Helen took another step.
Highland Shifter Page 12
