by Ria Cantrell
Sinead wanted to say, “Oh really, like a bathroom that has a flushing toilet”, but instead she just said, “Wait. Sir, what is to become of me?”
Raising an eyebrow, Caleb said with a winsome smile, “What indeed?”
“But I need to get back. I can’t stay here. I have to see a doctor so my leg can be tended to properly. I can’t afford not to be able to run again.” It sounded desperate even in Sinead’s ears, but she felt a little desperate all of a sudden.
“Morag will see to it that ye’ are healed. Ye’ must nay worry about that.”
“Aye, lass, I will make sure it is kept free of infection.”
Sinead did not want to think about the medical practices they used in this time to prevent infection. If she did, she was pretty certain all her false bravado would crumple and she would make a fool of herself after she promptly and adamantly puked in front of all these people.
“Rest now, Lass. When Morag is done with ye’ I need to have a word with her.”
“Wait. Please don’t leave me here.”
Sinead did not know why, but something about Laird Caleb made her plea to his sense of compassion. He may have been a warrior, but he was a good man; Sinead was sure of it. She wasn’t certain of the same for Jamie. She wasn’t certain of that at all.
“I must go for now, Lass, but we will speak again. I promise ye’ that.”
With that, Caleb stood and he headed back to the doorway. He had to find out more about the plot against his sons. This needed to take precedence over anything else at the moment because surely with the failed attempt, there would be retaliation forthcoming.
Jamie followed without looking back. It was much too dangerous. He sure as hell didn’t believe Sinead MacDougal’s fantastical tale and he sure as hell did not need to look at her so she could dull him with her tantalizing beauty. If only looking away from her would prevent the images of her from permeating his brain. Besides, the term may have been said differently in her strange Sassenach tongue, but Jamie was not so dim to not know what an asshole was. And Sinead MacDougal was quite definite about Jamie being one.
Chapter 15
Once Morag had settled the girl in and was certain that she would be able to rest, she gave her a special blend of herbs to ward off pain and to help her sleep. She had suffered a terrible shock and not only had she been hurt, but she had been placed in a time that was foreign and frightening. Morag knew that the girl was brave, but she was still a person who had normal responses to traumatic events. She sweetened her brew of herbs with some honey and some elderberry wine and she watched as Sinead drank it down.
Sinead hoped to hell that she wasn’t being poisoned, but something told her the old woman would not willingly do such a thing. She was tired, but she doubted she would be able to sleep, as wired as she was. Plus, her leg was throbbing badly and Sinead was pretty certain that it would render sleep impossible. Still the bed was rather comfortable and it was deliciously warm. She had gotten so chilled that she thought she would never be warm again. As Sinead settled back, a sense of calm came over her. What the hell was in that drink? She could barely keep her eyes open. She tried to fight it, but within minutes, she was sound asleep in dreamless oblivion. No thoughts or worries of poisoning or arrows piercing her leg or warriors charging her with big swords even flickered in her sleeping mind.
As soon as Morag saw that Sinead was deeply asleep, she let herself out of the chamber and made her way down to Caleb’s private study. She was not prepared to tell her tale, but she would relate what she could. She owed Caleb that much, she supposed. As for Jamie, well, his mate had found him and even though she knew she should not interfere, Morag would do what she could to change Jamie’s heart concerning the beautiful stranger asleep in his bed.
At least, something good could come of this, Morag thought gleefully. She so enjoyed playing matchmaker when she was not being called upon as the clan Healer and Seer. Ach, she always had a soft spot for love ever since she had wed her own true mate so many years ago. May yer soul be at rest, my love. Ye’ are still ever in my aching heart.
Morag knocked tentatively on the door that was between her and Caleb’s private rooms. She had never feared speaking her mind to the Laird and in fact, he sought her wisdom more times than not, but she really did not want to have to tell him what she had done so many years ago.
No one that still lived, except Morag, knew what wrong she had committed when she was but a girl. Most of those who knew of it had taken her secrets to their graves. Though she knew that Caleb suspected some of what had happened when he was still a child, he never made mention of it and he never called for her confession. That was one of the reasons she cherished her friendship with the man as she had with his father before him. Caleb was never one to push her, nor had his da’. They knew that women held secrets that could not be shared, but now, Morag did not know how to hide the truth. The MacKenzies were back to finish the deeds that had set Morag’s sorrows in motion and she did not know how to help her precious clan if she could not tell all she knew and all she had done. Heaving a labored breath, Morag waited for the door to Caleb’s chambers to swing open. All happy thoughts of helping Sinead and Jamie find their love were overtaken by the shadows of her memories and her past.
As Caleb faced the old woman he had grown to respect so greatly over the years, he could see the remnants of sorrow on her weathered face. He knew she had suffered much and having grown up with her as chatelaine in his father’s house, Caleb never dared to ask what had caused the light of true happiness to darken in the Old One’s eyes. Having loved his own dear wife Mairgred through sorrows and losses of their own, Caleb understood the way a woman’s heart worked. There were things that women kept locked inside the hidden chambers of their hearts and Caleb appreciated the need to keep those mysteries concealed.
Caleb knew very little about Morag’s life before she had come to live within the walls of MacCollum Keep. All he knew was that his father had offered her a place of protection after her husband had been killed. His father never spoke of what had occurred, but Caleb had learned that Ian MacCollum had been murdered by the hands of the MacKenzies. It had forever put enmity between the two clans and had resulted in a blood feud that lasted still to this day. The MacKenzie had not reared their murderous heads in some time. Caleb wondered what had prompted this attack.
He ushered Morag in and offered her a chair to sit in, but she stood, not wanting to sit at the moment. She cleared her throat and said, “The girl speaks the truth, Caleb. She is not our enemy. She is most definitely from another era. This I know from havin’ been in her time many seasons ago.”
Caleb studied the face of his eldest friend. Though she was old, there was no sign of cloudiness of the mind that comes with age. Nay, her eyes still gleamed bright silver and he could see the wisdom clearly in her gaze. Morag waited for Caleb to challenge her so that she would have to explain the things that haunted her waking and sleeping hours, but the challenge did not come. Instead, Caleb said, “Aye, though it is a fantastical tale to be certain, I have ne’er known ye’ to lie to me, Morag and I dunna’ expect ye’ have now.”
“I have nay lied to ye’, Caleb. Not ever, nor will I. But…there are things I have nay told ye’ in lieu of a lie. Things I wish to nay speak of.”
Caleb nodded thoughtfully. He could see the unease at the mention of those closeted things that Morag tried to swallow. He said, “Unless it relates to the treachery at hand, or to the safety of my Clan, I’ll not pry them from ye’, Morag. Ye’ have been my friend these many years. Ye’ were a trusted part of my da’s household. T’is not for me to know those things that are for yer’ heart alone. Can ye’ tell me about the girl?”
With a slight smile lifting her frowning lips, Morag replied, “Aye, she has been sent to rescue our Jamie. And I dunna’ just mean from today’s fray.”
Caleb laughed at Morag’s transparency. She was always trying to match up his offspring and she even tried a time or two t
o have him remarry after Mairgred’s untimely passing. He thought it funny that the meddling old mage never thought as much to see herself mated again. She had lived most of her life alone, with only the tending of other people’s bairns to keep her loneliness at bay.
“And ye’ know that because ye’ have seen it with yer’ scryin’ stones?”
“A woman’s visit was foretold to me, aye, but I did nay see her face. One only needs to witness how the two of them look at each other to know t’is so.”
“Is it now? I believe she called our lad, what was it, ah yes, an asshole.”
“Well, he was bein’ more than a horse’s arse.”
“Morag, I know ye’ wish to see Jamie settled in his role as future laird, but he is stubborn. He’s out now tendin’ to his bloody sheep rather than face the girl.”
“Bah, he canna’ keep his eyes off of her. And neither can she keep from looking at him. I have nay seen such pure hunger in a lass’ eyes since yer’ precious Mairgred looked at ye’ in the same way. Not even Ruiri’s beautiful Caitlyn, may she rest in peace, looked at him the way Sinead looks at our Jamie.”
“She seemed none too pleased with him at the moment.”
“Nay, she did no’, but mark me, she wants him. She came a long way to save his sorry hide. Mayhap, he will even save her.”
Caleb laughed at the summation of the Old One. “Ye’ and yer’ sappy expectations. Jamie is quite set in his ways when it comes to takin’ a wife.”
“Ehh, lot like his da’, I would say.”
“Woman, ye’ know I cannot just marry. The clan is my mistress. It is to her that I must remain loyal.”
Morag grunted in response. “Many lairds have found themselves widowers afore their time and many lairds remarry. Ye’ would if ye’ truly wanted to. But I have nay come down here to talk about ye’ at the moment. Yer’ time will come, Caleb MacCollum. Mark my word.”
It was Caleb’s turn to grunt a response. He took a drink from his tankard and felt the warmth of the malt liquor he dearly loved on cold days such as these. He never imbibed to the point of besotted stupor, but he did enjoy a dram now and again. After the amber liquid warmed a path down his throat, Caleb asked, “Well, what are we to do with her?”
“We canna’ do anything.”
“Surely, we canna’ keep her here agin’ her will.”
“Nay, t’is certain, but it is up to the Guardians to decide her fate.”
Caleb rubbed the stubble on his chin. Sometimes being Laird of a clan was exhausting. With a troubled sigh he said, “Can ye’ nay help her to return if she wishes it? In light of what ye’ have told me, I would think that if anyone could help her t’would be you.”
“Caleb, I canna’ control the pull of time. I walk into times not of ours when I am needed to or when I am somehow called. I have pleaded a time or two to do it and it was so, but only if the Guardians deem it to be. They have allowed her to come to this time. Only They will decide if she should be returned.”
Chapter 16
John O’Rourke had trudged through the snow that had blanketed the world over night and though it was quite deep, it had stopped snowing in the wee hours of the morning. He knew that there would be very few people if any who would be interested in visiting the Cloisters on such a day, but he just had to assure himself that everything was alright in the library.
He had tried several times to reach Sinead but his calls went directly to voicemail. He had been filled with a combination of worry and elation at the prospect. When he had procured the manuscripts, he was certain once Sinead had gotten a hold of them, she would remember, but as he left her perusing the hand written documents, she seemed just to be intrigued with the finds; nothing more.
As he let himself into the museum and turned off all of the security alarms and motion detectors, he kicked the snow from his boots and headed for the library. Maybe Sinead had just gone home after all and hadn’t charged her phone. Or maybe her apartment area was without service from the storm.
John flicked on the switch in the outer corridor and saw that the lights were still on in the library. Sinead would never leave them on all night. Worry mixed with anticipation crept into John’s veins and he hurried to the room.
His heart plummeted in his chest. There on the table next to the manuscripts was Sinead’s phone. Her purse hung on the back of the chair. She would not have left these items and ventured out into a storm. She would have had no means of tender to get her on a subway. John quickly checked the break room and found her hat, scarf, coat and gloves hanging on a peg in the coat room.
“Sweet mother of God is it so?”
He called out, “Sinead, Sinead, love, are you here,” knowing in his heart he would get no answer. She was nowhere to be found. He made his way up to the security room. The guards would have gone for the night but the security cameras would have been running. He reached into his breast pocket on his tweed jacket and he fumbled with his cell phone. He punched in the number while he hurried up to the security office.
“It’s me. She’s gone. Her things are here, but she is not. I had a feeling last night was going to be the time. Yes, yes, I know, but all we can do is wait. I know…I know, I am going to check the security cameras now. Do you want to hang on? Okay, love. Okay. Stay with me. I’ll be a few minutes rewinding the tapes.”
John let himself into the office and he sat down at the board with the many TV monitors in front of him. All cameras were working and he could see the different rooms and exterior of the place that remained quiet in the early morning snow. There wasn’t another soul about the place. Security would be there soon, so he knew he had to find what he was looking for and destroy it. He also needed the validation of what had taken place.
He focused his attention on the camera that had been set on the library rooms. He hit the rewind button and sailed through in backward fast motion until he came to a frame where Sinead was sitting quietly reading through the manuscripts. She had a look of confusion on her face and John watched as she re-read the words, flipping back the pages before her until the story reached the place John had hoped it would. The tapes were soundless so John could not hear anything from the recorded images but he could see her lips working in some silent plea. Then there was a great flickering in the equipment and with a bright flash like lightening, grey snow filled the screen. John waited until the disturbance cleared and when he looked again, Sinead was gone.
His heart thrummed in his chest. He remembered his cell phone and picked it up with trembling fingers. “Dear Jesus, she is truly gone. She was there one moment and not the next. I know, and even though I have lived it many a time, to see it still sets the old adrenaline flowing. I know…I know…t’is what you have been waiting for. It was now or never. Alright. Let me check and I will call you back.”
John clicked his phone off and went back to the library room. He needed to figure out just where Sinead had landed and the only clue he would have to be from the manuscript she had been reading at the time of her disappearance. Even though it was what he had been sent for, he mouthed a silent prayer for Sinead’s safety. After all, she could have landed herself in a very precarious situation. He wished he had been able to guide her but he had been expressly forbidden. Her path was to be learned on her own. Only then could those who had travelled through the Wheel guide her, but not a minute before. Her maiden journey would be left to chance and John only had his trust in the Guardians to keep her safe since They had picked this particular time to send her. Still, he felt responsible for her. The main reason he existed in this time was to be there for her for this very purpose. Ah, how he missed his precious Ireland, but he had grown quite fond of his life on the Island. If he was to be stuck in this time, how much better than to be able to work in a castle without the problems that medieval life brought with it?
John sat down at the table with the leather bound manuscript still open. He glanced down and saw the carefully penned words of its author but there seemed to be a blurr
y spot on one of the pages. It has begun, he thought. History is already being re-written. John knew that could have disastrous consequences. He passed his finger over the blurred writing and it almost seemed as if the ink had somehow become wet again. That left him with an ominous chill and what had started out as excitement for Sinead’s journey was soon turning into ill-omened portents.
He looked down at the page and saw the delicate handwriting. He wondered how it was that Sinead had not recognized it. Maybe she had, for he had no way of knowing what had been revealed to her before she was sent through the Wheel. He read the passage and flipped the pages back as he had seen Sinead do on the tape. He went back far enough to where the writing appeared different and he began to slowly read the words. He spotted the name MacDougal very definitely written and he figured that was as good a place to start as any. Sinead was a MacDougal after all. John found the year penned lightly in the margin. The clues to Sinead’s whereabouts were all there for him to find. He just had to take a deep breath and calm down. There was a fight in a field, dear God, do not let her be in the midst of that. John’s eyes grew wide and he grabbed his cell phone again. This time he did not even offer a greeting. He simply said, “She is in Scotland. She is back in 1364. May God protect her! She’s in the fourteenth century.”
Chapter 17
Jamie watched her sleeping. So thick was her slumber, it was almost as if she was already dead. He pleaded out loud, “So help me, old woman, if ye’ have dosed her too deeply, ye’ will pay dearly.”
Morag was not there to hear his threat, still Jamie meant every word. Who was this MacDougal woman and why did she want to warn Jamie of the treacherous plot? Surely she was lying, because even with Morag’s testimony, Jamie could not believe such bizarre claims. And speaking about bizarre, the woman’s mode of dress or rather state of undress had nearly undone Jamie.
