Taran_A Time Travel Romance

by Jane Stain

  Taran

  A Time Travel Romance

  Jane Stain

  Copyright held by Cherise Kelley writing as Jane Stain.

  All rights reserved.

  Contents

  Foreword

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Afterword

  Also by Jane Stain

  About the Author

  Foreword

  Battle of Harlaw

  by Sir Walter Scott

  (1771–1832)

  Now hald your tongue, baith wife and carle (peasant),

  And listen, great and small,

  And I will sing of Glenallan's Earl

  That fought on the red Harlaw.

  The [loud shout]'s cried on Bennachie,

  And doun the Don and all,

  And highland and lowland may mournful be

  For the [severe] field of Harlaw.

  They saddled a hundred milk-white steeds,

  They bridled a hundred black,

  With a [chevron] of steel on each horse's head,

  And a good knight upon his back.

  They hadna ridden a mile, a mile,

  A mile, but barely ten,

  When Donald came branking (strutting) down the brae

  With twenty thousand men.

  Their tartans they were waving wide,

  Their [gloves] were glancing clear,

  The [bagpipes] rung frae side to side,

  Would deafen ye to hear.

  The great Earl in his stirrups stood,

  That Highland host to see;

  'Now here a knight that's stout and good

  May prove a jeopardy.

  'What would'st thou do, my squire so gay,

  That rides beside my rein,

  Were ye Glenallan's Earl the day,

  And I were Roland Cheyne?

  'To turn the rein were sin and shame,

  To fight were wondrous peril;

  What would ye do now, Roland Cheyne,

  Were ye Glenallan's Earl?'

  'Were I Glenallan's Earl this tide,

  And ye were Roland Cheyne,

  The spur should be in my horse's side,

  And the bridle upon his mane.

  'If they hae twenty thousand blades,

  And we twice ten times ten,

  Yet they hae but their tartan plaids,

  And we are mail-clad men,

  'My horse shall ride through ranks sae rude,

  As through the moorland fern -

  Then ne'er let the gentle Norman blood

  Grow cauld for Highland kerne (rabble).'

  Chapter One

  Lauren tried to shrink down into the floor and disappear while Senga bustled about, sweeping ash from the hearth and checking on Lauren's progress with the breakfast dishes. As soon as Senga left the manor’s kitchen, Taran was going to ask Lauren difficult questions. Perhaps she had better use these few minutes of respite to gauge Taran's face. Did he look angry?

  No, not angry. Worse. Taran’s devilishly handsome face was deeply suspicious and… and his feelings were hurt.

  Lauren couldn't say she blamed him. This was one heck of a secret she was keeping.

  "Galdus!" she asked inside her head, silently. “Galdus, why did ye na keep me from saying those things aloud?"

  All she got out of Galdus in reply was his gleeful cackle. It rattled around inside her mind like the echo of a coin falling on a tiled floor. He had never refused to answer her before, not in the whole three months since Deirdre had given her the dagger, back in the time of the druids.

  She tried again. "Galdus?"

  Nothing.

  Lauren jumped a bit, realizing she’d been stroking the dagger that hung at her hip. The ghost of Galdus, an ancient druid, lived on inside the dagger. Still furious at him, she pulled her hand away as if she'd been burned, then made a point of grabbing another dirty tankard to wash.

  Oh no.

  Senga nodded approvingly at Lauren and was leaving the kitchen, which meant that in just a few moments, Lauren and Taran would be alone. How much had he heard? How much trouble was she in? And why on earth had Galdus goaded her into saying all that out loud? Especially when he’d been blocking her from explaining the same things to Jessica and Katherine for months?

  The time for wondering was gone, and the time for reckoning had begun. The kitchen door closed with a swish, leaving her alone with Taran in the windowless stone kitchen his parents had built as a protection cell, highly unusual.

  Lauren was done with the dishes and searched around for something else to do. The kitchen fire was blazing merrily. Senga was no slouch. There weren’t even any pots to stir, because most of them would eat their noon meal at Gus’s tavern in town, after the wash was done and before the militia mustered for practice.

  She couldn't meet Taran's eyes, just spoke to the wall.

  "I dinna suppose there would be any point in asking ye how much ye heard."

  He chuckled just the tiniest little bit and came over to stand a few feet away beside her, leaning back and putting his hands on the counter behind him.

  "I heard enough tae ken ye hae a master someplace that ye speak tae by way o' magic, and that this master o' yers wishes tae send ye off intae the winter alone on a quest for what ye call an artifact."

  She put her hands on the counter behind them as well, leaning back and mimicking his casual attitude — which she knew was an act. But it gave her hope. If he was trying to act casual, then he wasn't going to run off and tell everyone. At least not right away.

  "What are ye thinking?" she asked, still not looking at him, afraid of what she would see in his face. Had it turned to anger yet?

  "’Tis na sae far-fetched anymair, the three o' ye being from the future. Ye did hae those breather things. And ye are talking tae someone who is na here."

  "I dinna want tae talk tae him," she said with as much earnestness as she could manage, considering her knees were trembling in dread of what he might say. She had been starting to like Taran, and now this had to happen.

  He slowly put out his hand with his palm up, the way Father Craig did when he spoke of logical progressions.

  "Aye, that much I ken, some aught tae dae with the way ye were talking tae him."

  A kernel of hope bloomed in Lauren's heart. Taran was having a sense of humor about this. And he still hadn't run off to tell his brother Leif, the Laird of Cresh Manor. He sure wasn't making this easy for her, though.

  "Are na ye gaun'ae ask questions?" she said with that hope.

  When he didn't say anything, she turned to look at him.

  Big mistake.

  He turned to look at her as well, and the way he raised his eyebrow as if to say ‘are you kidding me?’ made his eyes sparkle with intelligence and awareness. So much so that it was almost unbearable.

  She had to rein herself in, or she would just stare at him. Drifting off into a stupor already, she took a deep breath and turned back to the dishes. The perfect excuse not to get drawn into his too perceptive gaze. She picked up the tankard she'd been washing.

  "It would be much easier tae explain if ye asked questions, ye ken?"

  Senga's voice preceded her back into the kitchen, making Lauren sigh with relief.


  "Lauren, I can take over in the kitchen now. Why don't you go outside and enjoy the fresh air while ye help with the wash? 'Tis a braw day, as winter days gae."

  With that, Senga bustled in, already raising her arms up in shooing motions. When she saw Taran was still in the kitchen, she put her hands on her hips.

  "Why dae ye never help me with the dishes, eh?"

  This made Lauren laugh despite her anxiety.

  "We're going, Senga."

  "Aye Senga, we’re going," Taran called out as he hastily made an exit behind her.

  They were alone in the great room now, and as they made their way to the back door to join the others at the washtub, Taran whispered in Lauren’s ear. What he said might have been mistaken for romantic, if it weren’t for the context. But her body responded to the feel of his breath near her ear anyway, even as she winced away to make sure he didn't touch her. His voice was soft, even sympathetic, but at the same time, he shared his older brother’s air of command — not surprising, since they shared command of the town militia.

  "Join me for a walk directly after supper. Dinna allow anyone tae come along."

  Turning to look him in the eye just before they went out the back door, Lauren nodded her assent.

  He nodded and even bowed a bit to her before turning and making his way down into the tiny village, which he called the town of Inverurie.

  While helping fellow time travelers Amy and Katherine with the washing, Lauren leaned in and quietly asked Katherine, "Will ye take over my turn at the dishes tonight? Taran has asked me tae go for a walk with him after supper."

  Katherine gave Lauren a high five, which Lauren guiltily accepted and returned.

  "About time, girl. Go get him!"

  Amy gave Lauren an encouraging wink and shrug. The older woman had arrived only a month ago, but she had glommed onto Jessica and Katherine when they were captives of the time-manipulating druids. Amy shared a bedroom now with Katherine and Lauren, so Lauren was friends with Amy too.

  Dinner was pleasant enough. Lauren enjoyed a respite while visiting with Taran’s brother Leif and Taran’s sister-in-law, Jessica, Lauren’s college roommate, whom she and Galdus had brought here into the 1400s. Katherine had come with them, too. She was the top salesperson for their modern-day employer, PenUlt. Luag was at the table with them, Leif and Taran's friend from afar. Luag and Katherine never quit sniping at each other. At first it had been amusing, but three months later it was annoying, like listening to your brothers and sisters squabbling.

  At long last, supper was done.

  Lauren rose from the table with a grateful look at Katherine, who nodded with excitement, shaking her fists in front of her in glee. Lauren then turned toward her college roommate Jessica, now lady of Crest Manor.

  "May I be excused, yer ladyship?"

  Lauren didn't have to address Jessica this way, but she took great pleasure in doing so.

  Visibly taking great pleasure in it as well, Jessica nodded.

  "Aye, that ye may."

  Jessica winked.

  Lauren looked over at Katherine scoldingly.

  Katherine shrugged and smiled.

  Could no one keep their mouths shut in this house?

  But Lauren found herself smiling back at her two friends, the grin of the cat who ate the canary. She couldn't resist watching Taran’s Pictish nose, his knowing dark eyes, and his toned warrior’s body as he took the pipe Senga handed him and gestured for Lauren to join him at the front door.

  A pipe? She’d never seen Taran smoke before. Never mind.

  He donned his leather cloak, held her shawl for her while she put it on, and opened the door. The two of them made their way out, but instead of starting on the long hike up the mountain behind Cresh Manor, Taran walked toward a small cottage. Lauren had never been inside. He produced a large key and fumbled with the lock.

  "This has stood empty since Gammer died," he explained. "Leif kens I wished a word with ye, for I had tae ask him for the key."

  She searched his face for any sign of antagonism, but it looked like he was just giving her a social warning.

  “What dae ye suppose he thinks ye mean tae speak with me aboot?”

  Taran shrugged as he got the door open, but as usual, he had that knowing glint in his eyes. It was mesmerizing. He turned and led her into a tiny one-room cottage with a bed, table and chairs, a tiny hearth, and not much more.

  After gesturing for Lauren to take a seat at the tiny little table, Taran turned to some wood that had probably been sitting by the hearth for a decade, it was so dusty. She did notice that nothing else was dusty. Perhaps Leif let Senga in here to clean once in a while. Interesting.

  Lauren couldn't help but love the little cottage, and she took this opportunity to admire the place while Taran built a fire and lit it with an ember he carried in the pipe.

  Aha, that’s why he brought the pipe.

  Now that she took the time to look, she saw the tiny washstand in the corner, complete with a beautiful stoneware wash bowl and pitcher. The hearth stones were smooth river rocks, artfully arranged. The cottage held a featherbed still, a luxurious item that she, Katherine, and Amy could use in their room. What was it doing here, unused?

  Great loving care was taken with this tiny cottage, and Lauren hated the idea of giving Taran bad memories of the place, but he seemed determined to get answers out of her.

  "Well Galdus,” Lauren said in her mind, “if ye're gaun'ae shut my mouth, pray tell me now. Save me the shame."

  Galdus’s eerie voice came into her mind for the first time that day.

  "Ye hae learned the way o’ talking with yer body, sae I dinna see the point in closing yer mouth. Na till I hae control o’ yer body as wull. It will come, mark me." Galdus laughed that disturbing laugh of his.

  Once the fire was burning merrily, warming the frigid room, Taran took the other seat at the tiny little table. Shivering now that they had been outside the warmth of the manor house awhile, they both moved their chairs closer to the fire.

  Taran's handsome eyes looked at her expectantly. His face was more passive than she'd ever seen it. He was a man of action, so she knew she would only get one chance to explain before he made a decision and set upon a course.

  She gave him her best cute girl look, scrunching up her face with a smile.

  "Are ye sure ye willna ask me questions?"

  He gave her a sad shake of his head.

  "Lauren, this is na one o' yer games. Heed, I ken ye are unsettled by whatever ye plan tae tell me. I will hear ye out, but ‘tis understanding each the other that is needed here. I am deciding what tae dae about ye. Sae hear my plea. Tell me all the truth, the whole o’ it. Any bit o’ the story may help me yet tae remain on friendly terms with ye."

  His look was so sincere, so pleading, so painfully earnest, that she had to look away in shame. Why hadn't she just told everyone at the beginning, as soon as she arrived here? Katherine had already spilled the beans and told the household they were from the future...

  Galdus’s cackling laughter answered that question. He didn't want it known that he was gradually taking control of her. Truth to tell, she hadn't realized it herself when she first arrived here. Galdus’s influence was that insidious.

  Lauren peeked up at Taran through her long lashes.

  He was sitting patiently, awaiting her answer. ‘I’m giving ye a chance,’ his eyes told her. ‘Take it, lass.’

  Sighing, she did.

  "In my youth, I worked with a large troupe of historical re-enactors whenever they came to town—"

  "What does that hae tae dae—"

  "Please. Hear me out. Ye promised. Save yer questions for the end, aye?"

  "Aye."

  “The troupe was run by a small branch of the MacGregor clan. Years later, I found out they are really from the 1500s. Their family are slaves to the druids, who send them to fetch artifacts for them from different periods of time.”

  She rubbed her sweaty palms on her
thick woolen leine, looking at the fire.

  “The druids could go themselves, but that’s problematic for longer trips. They either disappear off the face of the earth while they’re gone, or if they return the instant they left, well… A person ages normally in whatever time they're in, so if they stay long in another time period, when they arrive back in their time they are older than they should be, causing friends and foes to ask awkward questions. So the druids only time travel for themselves on brief trips. For any errand that takes more than a day or two, they send their slaves.”

  She had to look Taran in the face at this point, to make sure he got it. Her faire friend Kelsey had glossed over this part initially, and Lauren had been utterly confused. It was crucial to understanding why the druids used their peculiar modus operandi.

  Curiosity and surprise lit his face, and his attention was rapt.

  Good. But she still couldn’t look at him while she spoke, because any second, his face might turn unfriendly. Hence, she returned her gaze to the warm fire he had made, speaking quickly so he would hear as much of it as possible before deciding to … Best not to think of that possibility.

  “While I was at the faire, the MacGregor boys didna ken about the family curse. Their four parents wanted them tae hae good childhoods, and sae they only telt them about the curse once the eldest turned eighteen. There were six MacGregor boys, and they were courting six o’ us lasses. One year, on Tavish and Tomas’s birthday, they all parted company with us and disappeared with nary a trace. I was mystified about what happened till just last year, when one o’ the lasses, Kelsey, telt me she was back together with Tavish. 'Tis a long story, but she unwittingly became a druid —"