Taran: A Time Travel Romance (Dunskey Castle Book 8)

by Jane Stain

  In the way of dreams, especially those one has during the daylight when one is wide-awake, the future soared forward. Taran was awestruck to see Lauren bear him first one son and then another. A daughter came next, and though Taran had always had a soft spot in his heart for his little sister Amena, he now knew that was nothing compared to having his own girl child. He loved the wee lass with a fierceness that he knew there were no bounds to. And with every child he loved Lauren even more.

  And Lauren thrived in Inverurie. He needn't have worried that staying here with him weakened her prospects for the future at all. She created first one wonder and then another in the town, chutes that took the water from the well to houses in the town, and down the hill from Cresh Manor into the fields. She made a machine driven by the mill wheel that wove flax thread into linen. The town sold this cloth and all were prosperous, so much so that extra building materials were acquired and all the houses made warmer and more snug for the winter. Everyone adored Lauren, and along with Taran and Leif and Jessica she was revered as a lady should be.

  The prosperity of the town brought growth, and it grew from a town into a veritable city, with market days to rival those of Ualraig's castle. Lauren saw that a school was built for the children, and Father Craig saw that they were taught. He had two apprentices now, and they built a larger church for the town, to accommodate all the people who now lived here. Everyone was happy and well fed and warm in the winter.

  But also in the way of dreams dreamt during the day's wakefulness, this one the two of them shared ended abruptly as Taran remembered his current surroundings. Gasping, he grabbed her hand off his face and gently nudged her away. He couldn’t get up himself until she moved.

  “Ye need tae go, Lauren. These men are na the friendly sort. Make yerself disappear again."

  Lauren tugged on his arm, trying to pull him to his feet. "Come with me, Taran. Galdus, make him invisible too. I did na get sae close tae him just tae lose him in the coming battle."

  All that came out of Galdus was a wicked laugh that made Taran shudder.

  Abruptly, Lauren was yanked away from Taran's grasp, kicking and screaming.

  The man who grabbed her was on horseback, and he pulled her up easy as could be. "We hae what we need right here. Let us be away."

  Donald and his two men rode off with her.

  Taran was alone.

  Chapter Nine

  Lauren bounced helplessly, held fast on the back of the horse by her captors.

  "Galdus, dae some aught!"

  "What can I dae? They hae yer hands held fast. I canna draw myself from the scabbard."

  "There are a million things ye could dae, and ye ken it. Go intae their minds and make them crazy. They hae their hands on me, sae I ken ye can get intae their minds. If ye choose tae, ye could let me hear their thoughts."

  "Ha! Ye dinna need tae hear,” he said with haughtiness. “I am inside their minds, and they hae told me some aught surprising."

  "Never mind that, get me away from them!"

  "Och, wull even though ye didna ask me what surprising thing I found out, I wull tell ye anyway. I'm feeling generous. Roland, an auld druid friend o’ mine, just telt me he wull follow yer friend Katherine home. As soon as my friend finds his way back tae this time, he wull rejoin the Laird o’ the Isles. Sae I think 'tis best if we are part o’ Laird Donald's party as wull, dinna ye? For Taran and Leif will only return tae that infernal wee toon, but Laird Donald is going across all o’ Scotland. Who kens how many artifacts we will encounter in his company? Aye, we shall get the one prophesied from the coming conflict, but oor new plan is tae bide with Laird Donald and get more. I only need ye tae bide with me till Roland returns, tae keep me out o' Laird Donald's hands. The future where he wields me is na pretty for any o’ yer friends, sae I ken ye will help. My druid friend was a bit afraid tae go tae Katherine’s home, having heard 'twas full o’ man-made things that wull sap Nature’s power from him. But I assured him Scotland was much the same in yer time, sae how bad could her home be? He wull be back within the span o’ days."

  Fear for Katherine gripped Lauren.

  "If ‘tis sae bad for druids there, then why did he want tae go?"

  "He didna say, but do you want tae know what I suspect?"

  "Nay, but ye will tell me anyway."

  Galdus laughed with genuine amusement.

  "Fair enough. I suspect ‘twas plain curiosity."

  Lauren supposed that was better than some evil motive to ruin Katherine's life — perhaps even at Galdus's request.

  Galdus’s evil laugh confirmed that he could hear her thoughts even when she wasn't thinking directly at him. She had hoped that with practice, she would be able to shield her thoughts from him, but now she doubted that would ever be possible.

  Laird Donald’s men trotted far too long, jostling her about before they carried her into the castle she'd visited once before, the day Amy came to live with them. Only now Laird Ualraig's castle was inhabited by Laird Donald and his men. Who knew what they had done to Laird Ualraig. She didn't want to think about it. They brought her into an opulent chamber, unceremoniously dumped her on the bed, and then left, closing the heavy door behind them.

  Fear and dread gripped her. This did not bode well. She looked to the window for escape. It was an arrow-slit window, and she just might be able to wriggle through. But then what? It was a sheer three-story drop, and when she looked around outside, there was nothing to climb onto.

  Inspiration struck.

  Hope surged through her as she hastily pulled all the covers off the bed and tied them together corner to corner with as tight of knots as she could manage, wetting them with her mouth and pulling them even tighter so they wouldn't slip. When she was done, she eyed her handiwork with joy. Her improvised rope was plenty long enough to make it all way to the ground, and though someone would likely see her leaving and come over and bring her back here, she had to try.

  And then she looked around and deflated.

  There wasn't any bed stand to tie the rope to, nor anything else. The door opened with a straight latch. The washstand and wardrobe were heavy oak that sat directly on the stone floor with no feet. They were too heavy for her to even lift a corner.

  "Galdus, get me oot o’ here! if the laird... has his way with me — even if he just traps me under him — certies he will be able tae reach ye. 'Tis in yer best interest tae get me oot!"

  But Galdus’s voice came sultry and sickeningly sweet in her mind then, and she knew she was doomed. When you polished off his druidic veneer, he was just a weak man. A pig, like every weak man. Disgusting. And frightening.

  "I should love for that laird tae lay his hand on ye while ye yet hae me on ye. That will mean I am privy tae his pleasure. And as for him taking me for his own, dinna fear, my love. I am all yers. I will burn the hand o’ anyone who tries tae draw me from this scabbard, while ye keep me near. And ye will keep me near. I shall see tae that. Sae ye hae naught tae fear. Na on my account."

  Lauren wasn't sure why she ran to the washstand and used the bowl to catch her vomit. This was the chamber of her enemy, after all. What did she care if it was soiled?

  "I dinna care if I'm stranded in this time forever. I'm better off without ye, Galdus!"

  She had every intention of detaching Galdus’s scabbard from her belt and hurling it out the open window. She even thought she had reached out and grabbed the scabbard.

  But her hand still rested on the pitcher of water that sat within her vomit inside the wash bowl. Bile rose in her throat again. Galdus was gaining control of her movements! His evil laughter punctuated the fact that he was pleased about that.

  She heard voices coming down the hall, the first one commanding.

  "We shall be dining in my quarters by ourselves. See tae it food is brought, and wine. Ye yourselves bide out in the hallway. Nay, bide doon the hallway a discrete distance away, ye ken?"

  Raucous laughter came from the men at this.

  "Aye, L
aird Donald."

  "It shall be so, Laird Donald."

  “Ye hae only tae state yer wants, Laird."

  "She is a braw lass, Laird Donald."

  Lauren looked over at her rope of bedclothes, but she didn't see any reason to try and hide what she'd done. Surely he knew she didn't want to be here. Unwilling to look like a cowering victim, she stood up straight right where she was, resisting the urge to move with her back against the wall.

  That was all she had time to do before the door opened and a man who was surely Laird Donald entered his chamber — the chamber he had stolen from Laird Ualraig. At first, Donald smiled large at her, but then he noticed the rope and went over to examine it briefly before looking up at her with an admiring smile on his face.

  “‘Tis verra clever, lass. Whatever stopped ye from using it?"

  So long as he was talking, he wasn't having his way with her.

  Keep him talking.

  Shrugging in a way she hoped was charming—even though it made her sick, the idea of trying to charm this man—she said, "I couldna find anything tae tie it tae.”

  He threw back his head and laughed, which made her relax the tiniest bit. She’d heard the jokes men made about not being able to … perform … if they were amused. Maybe if she confessed to more foolishness, he would laugh some more.

  "I was sick a moment ago, and I was na quite sure where tae put it, so 'tis in yer washbasin."

  But Donald looked at her with concern, and instead of laughing, he went to the door and opened it, calling out, "Come take away this soiled washbasin, and bring a fresh one before the meal arrives."

  Immediately, two of his men came in and did as he said, not wasting any time about it and very carefully not looking at her. They kept their faces to the floor, mumbling obsequiously the whole time.

  "As ye will, my Laird."

  "I live tae serve, my Laird."

  They were gone in no time, and Lauren was alone with Donald once more. Her knees were shaking, but she hoped he didn't notice. She hoped…

  Donald went to the door again. "Hurry up with the wine at least, and see what’s taking sae long aboot the food." And then he turned to her and smiled apologetically. Apologetically! "Please, have a seat." He gestured not to the bed, but to one of the two chairs at the small breakfast table.

  Maybe he’s hungry.

  Keeping her eyes on the man, she moved past the chair he held out so that the table was between the two of them and sat down with her back against the corner of the room. And instantly realized her mistake. She had cornered herself. She couldn’t get away now. There was nowhere to move to. Dread sank into her stomach. It would be infinitely more uncomfortable here against the stone wall than it would've been if she'd sat on the bed.

  Had he done that deliberately? Did he like the idea of her being scraped against the stones, if he took advantage of her?

  Bile rose in her throat again. This time she swallowed it down, not wanting to show more weakness than she already had. Resisting the urge to squeeze her eyes closed and hug her knees up to her chest, Lauren forced herself to sit there, calmly watching him.

  But he gave her a charming smile and sat down in the chair he had pulled out for her. The look in his eyes was the cunning sort of charm, though. She was not fooled. He was not a gentleman, not this man who had taken over half of Scotland by force, including this very castle whose missing people had welcomed her with warm hospitality only half a year ago.

  There was a knock at the door, and she jumped.

  “Come," was all the Laird said. He did so without even looking at the door. His eyes were drinking her in.

  Which made her even more afraid. She knew it was meant to be a compliment, but … She was glad he wasn't very good at being charming. Better the enemy you know than the one you think is a friend.

  A parade of men came in with not only their wine and wine glasses, but also two plates of food and eating utensils. They arranged it all on the table quickly and left even more quickly, softly closing the door behind them. She could hear their footsteps scuttling down the hall, but no voices at all. She got the feeling they obeyed out of fear of punishment, rather than out of love for their laird, as the people of Inverurie obeyed Leif.

  Smiling his fake charming smile, Donald poured wine for them and held his other hand out toward her plate. "Please, refresh yerself. These men I travel with are clumsy and wanting in the social graces, but the food was prepared by the original cooks from the castle, and they are quite skilled. Ye will like the food. Please eat."

  It was on the tip of her tongue to refuse. The tale of the woman who went down to the underworld and had to stay there six months because she ate six pomegranate seeds popped into her mind. Persephone?

  But Lauren didn't refuse, because so long as they were eating. they weren't… She took up the knife and started cutting her meat. She didn't know what type of meat it was, but it did smell good.

  "My," said Laird Donald, "I kenned yer ways would be different, but I had na idea just how different. Does everyone from the future eat that way?"

  Lauren’s stomach lurched. She covered it up by taking a sip of her wine. "I'm sure I dinna ken what ye mean."

  Laird Donald chuckled and took a sip of his own wine. He had impeccable table manners, not getting any wine on his lip and not making any noise when he set down his glass. "‘Tis a lovely bracelet ye wear," he said, nonchalantly changing the subject.

  Quickly, Galdus cut into her thoughts. "He is fishing for the object ye use tae time travel. Go ahead and play up that ‘tis yer bracelet. That suits our purpose perfectly. He must na ken that ‘tis… me."

  Unable to resist some sarcasm, Lauren told Galdus, "Now ye decide tae be o’ use tae me."

  Galdus rewarded her with his amused laughter, but it didn't settle her stomach. She was still all alone in this, one woman against at least two men, if not a castle full. Her only hope was that maybe Laird Donald's only interest in her was in obtaining her time travel implement. This hope welled up in her bosom. She did her best to fight it, dreading the letdown should it prove false.

  "Play up the bracelet," Galdus urged again, cutting through her thoughts.

  Oh yeah.

  "Och,” she said, playing with the thin band of gold on her wrist, “this is just something my parents gave me when I finished school.”

  When she said she had been to school, Donald choked on his wine and even dribbled some, but he recovered quickly, saying “It looks quite valuable.”

  She hid it under the table. “It has sentimental value, is all."

  "’Twas the truth, yet ye delivered it wull," Galdus marveled.

  She ignored him. He had made it clear he only had his own interests in mind and would betray hers at his first opportunity.

  "So how does it work?" The Laird asked ever so nonchalantly, clarifying without need, "Time travel."

  Lauren carefully took another sip of her wine. How much to tell him? "’Tis naught I often talk aboot, ye ken."

  He nodded, holding her gaze steadfastly. He wasn't going to give up until she answered him.

  And why shouldn't I? What’s the harm, really?

  "There is na harm," Galdus assured her, “sae long as he doesna ken ‘tis me ye speak aboot. And even then, I am na gae’ na let him get hold o’ me."

  The laird raised his eyebrows, amused at her hesitation.

  Lauren took a deep breath and steeled herself, trying to tamp down the nervousness. "Time travel can work anywhere, but 'tis easier if ye go tae a sacred grove or some other place the druids hae made special. My friend’s husband has an implement that only works in one location, but other implements can work anywhere and take ye tae any place in any time. Really, it depends on the druid who designed it." She took another bite, glancing at him in what she hoped was a way that seemed incidental, but really trying to gauge if he was satisfied with her answer or not.

  But of course he wasn't. Why would he be satisfied with that when he had her literal
ly captive? No, he settled in. She had the feeling this is only the beginning. But then again so long as he was talking…

  "And how was it ye were chosen, tae hae such a powerful tool?"

  Despite herself, Lauren smiled at that. "It depends who ye ask. Dae ye want the long story, or the short story?"

  He gave her another genuine smile. It made him actually look handsome for just a moment, before she remembered she was his captive and he was the cruel overlord over half of Scotland now, having taken all by force.

  "Why the long story, o’ course,” he said. “I hae nowhere tae go until tomorrow's battle. Aye, I dae need a little sleep before that, but the day is young yet. I hae plenty o’ time tae listen." And again in his fake charming way, he settled his chin on top of his hand with his elbow resting on the table in a near perfect imitation of a young schoolboy listening to a teacher.

  Lauren allowed her memories to take her away from the horrible circumstances as she told him her tale. "My friend’s husband who I mentioned before?"

  He nodded. "Aye."

  "Wull, he's a MacGregor—"

  "Aye? Fierce warriors, indeed. I could use him on my campaign here… Aha, but he is na here in this time, is he? Nay, he is someone ye met in the future where ye come from." He smiled his genuine smile, a frightening smile. The smile of a hunter who has spotted his prey.

  Keep him talking, Lauren.

  She took a deep breath and rushed on with her story, trying to make it as good as she could. "Aye, he is someone I met in the future. His father belongs tae a long line o’ MacGregors who were cursed by a druid generations afore his. Their ancestor was a gambler, ye see—"

  Donald interrupted her. "And sure I am that is a charming tale as well. Howsoever, let us get back tae the way ye were chosen by the druids tae travel time for them. If ye please." There was that fake charm again, accompanied by an ‘if you please’ sliding hand gesture that should have been gentlemanly but wasn't.

  "Verra wull,” she said, willing her heart to stop thumping so loud. “Tavish's father Dall belonged to this sub clan of the MacGregors. He was from the 1540s, which is still the future to you, but you see I am from the 2000's. Dall and his son were from 500 years before my time. The druid who enslaved their clan sent them forward because we romanticize your time. We have what they call Renaissance Faire, where we reenact history. Anyhow, Dall was sent forward to help the Renaissance Faire be authentic. He taught Gaelic and dancing and sword fighting. He met his wife there and took her back to his time and they had many adventures together. They still talk about him in my time as the man who brought kilts to the faire—"