by Ju Ephraime
She must return to work before her boss fired her and the all-important account she had been so determined to secure was lost to her company. She wanted to go looking for this man who had given her the blanket. He’d told her his name was Alasdair, but somehow she couldn’t accept it. His men called him Dair. She thought that was a more appropriate name for him. Much as he had a resemblance to the client she was working for, he was not that man, and the similarity in the names had to be a fluke.
She had wasted enough time here and should be trying to make her way back. She left the room and began walking in the direction of the stairs. She had hardly taken two steps when she saw the man who said he was Alasdair walking ahead of her. He must have heard her because he stopped and turned to her.
“Where do ye think ye might be off to, lassie?”
Without stopping to think, she told him, “I want to get the hell out of this confounded place.”
If she’d thought to intimidate him, she would’ve been mistaken because he let out a bellow of a laugh that she swore made the floor shake.
She’d accepted that this man was not concerned with her discomfort. She’d been too upset to look at him carefully before, now she took the time to do that.
He was standing in the corridor, his huge frame almost filling the space completely, his long red hair caressing his shoulders, a cynical smile on his face as he constantly gnawed at his bottom lip. His face was covered with a day’s growth of stubble, his muscles sharply defined on his firm chest, which, incidentally, was still bare.
Around his trim waist was a wide, black leather belt covered with silver studs. The belt held the plaid kilt in place. It was in the same colors as the blanket he had given her, which she was still wearing across her shoulders. The colors were dark blue and dark green with thin strips of white.
She was again struck by the savage appearance of Alasdair Campbell. She didn’t think anything could scare him. He reminded her of Samson in the Samson and Delilah story in the Bible. Not that she was comparing herself to Delilah, but the sheer brute strength of the man made her believe he could slay a lion with his bare hands.
“I ask again, where are ye trying to go, lassie?”
“To my home.”
“Where might that be? I’ll have a couple of my men attend ye. They can escort ye home.”
“Good,” she said, beginning to feel slightly cheerful at the thought of going home.
“Where did ye say yer home was again?” he asked.
“For the second time, Manhattan.”
“Where is Manhattan? A place in England, perhaps? Ye speak English, although not like any I have ever heard before.”
“I live in America, where I was born… where I work.”
“America? I never heard of it.”
“You never heard of America? What century are you living in?” she asked, sarcastically.
“What do ye mean? ’Tis the year 1317. What might be so special about America?”
“It’s the year 1317? No way. That couldn’t be, not from what I remember.” Had she traveled through time through time, somehow? “And for your information, America is the world’s superpower.”
“Oh, aye? When we gain our independence and the French king can openly declare our position as allies, the English shall sing a different tune. ”
“I said America, not England. What are you talking about? Oh, pardon me, you believe we are in the fourteenth century, don’t you? I hate to be the one to break it to you, but we are so not.”
“What do you mean? Which year do you believe this is?”
“We are in the year twenty thirteen.”
“Twenty thirteen, you said?”
How the hell was that possible? Was this woman trying to play a trick on me? I had no time to pursue this further. The men were returning from practicing.
* * * *
In less time than it took her to take a deep breath, the hall behind him was filled with men. Men were pouring into the keep like roaches coming out of the woodwork. Where had all these men been? She’d not seen any except the three who she thought had left hours ago. This told her, if she had been foolish enough to try running out, as she had been thinking of doing, she would have had all these men after her.
They were all talking at the same time, creating quite a ruckus, when the one who identified himself as the Laird walked to a huge metal gong hanging on the wall and slapped it once. The sound reverberated through the keep, and all the shouting and yelling ceased, as if by magic.
CHAPTER FIVE
It was a sight to behold. The muscles on his forearms bulging, the wild hair all over the place, the sexy, slightly pinkish bottom lip, from him constantly sucking it into his mouth, and the plaid wrapped around his naked body left Coira in awe. She forgot that she was in a strange place surrounded by a bunch of strange-looking men. She was fascinated by one man, and her heart did a funny little flip as she imagined kissing those pink lips while his massive arms encircled her.
His gaze swept the room, and the eyes of everyone were on him. He told them something very rapidly in a language that sounded like gibberish to her. She was able to make out three words, America and twenty-first century. Coira began retreating one step at a time. She didn’t want to antagonize them any more than she had to. The Laird did seem to be in control of the men. He looked the fiercest of the bunch. She couldn’t explain it, but somehow she was not as intimidated by him, as his men appeared to be. It could be because there was a certain veneer of sophistication about him that the others lacked.
Although he never took his eyes off the group, he must have seen her trying to get away because he yelled, “Halt.” All eyes immediately switched to her. “Where do ye think to make off to, lass?”
Coira stood with her foot extended, too embarrassed to continue. “I was going to make myself scarce. You don’t need me here. I can’t understand what you are saying, and all this yelling is giving me a headache.”
“Lass, come with me.” He turned to his men, said something to them, and taking her hand, he went into a room off the main room. It was a cold, drafty, sparsely furnished room she had never been in before. There were two wooden benches, large things that looked as if the legs had been hacked out of one huge tree.
“Lass, will ye tell me again how ye happen to be here and exactly where this America is?”
Coira wanted to be upset with him for ordering her about. She wanted to go home to check up on her dad. Whatever this place was, she did not want to be here. He was attractive, and she was fascinated by him, lured in by the power he had over his men and the air of authority that surrounded him.
“I already told you. I’m not from around here.” What utter madness is this? With mounting horror, the precariousness of her situation began to hit her. She had to use all her skills to keep her wits about her. “I thought this place was an underground dwelling. “ How can walking into an office in Manhattan take me to this strange place that looks like something from the Ice Age? “This doesn’t make any logical sense.”
“Aye, this is what I am expecting ye to explain to me. After all, ye are the intruder. How did ye come to be in the middle of my keep? For all I know, ye could be an enemy spy sent to get information.”
“A spy? What would I be spying on?”
“I do not know. If I knew the whole of it, I would not be asking ye. Let us go over yer story again.”
Coira had a difficult time keeping her mind on how she’d come to be there when all she could think about was doing her own bit of sucking on those succulent pink lips. She could not explain her fascination with him. He was not at all her type. Tell that to her traitorous body.
He brushed the hair from his face with both hands, using his fingers like a comb. She wished she had a comb to make herself a bit more presentable. Everything she was carrying, except for the reservation papers, had stayed back in New York. She did have those to show him.
He had yet to look at the papers she was carrying. Speaki
ng of which, if she gave them to him, he would see her company’s address and phone number on them. Then he’d have to believe her, although, if she was indeed in the fourteenth century, then the telephone was not yet invented. So he wouldn’t know about that, but what the hell? She handed him the documents anyway.
“Here are the documents I was delivering to Alasdair when I went tumbling through the hole.”
He accepted the papers from her. “Good,” he said, and he opened them. She watched him stand there for a long time, staring at the papers, not saying anything. Finally, the suspense was too much for her.
“What’s the matter?” she asked, moving closer to him to take a look.
“Stay back, lass,” he all but yelled.
“I need to explain it to you,” she said, “and I can’t see what you are looking at from over here.”
“That’s because there’s nothing to see. This paper is blank.”
“What do you mean blank?” She made a move to go to him again.
He stayed her with a movement of his hand. “I said for ye to stay where ye are.”
Coira was furious. She was not a tamed dog to be spoken to in this manner, and she didn’t give two figs whether he was a Laird or not. He was not her Laird.
She saw a quick smile flash across his face as he stood there watching her. Did that mean he believed her?
Coira wished she’d be so lucky. She had her answer when the smile vanished just as quickly as it had appeared. “I must think on this. I’ll send Gertrude to attend ye.” And just like that, he was gone, and she was left standing there all alone. She wanted to call him back because talking with him was better than being alone in this strange place. It even made her forget how cold she was. How did they live in this freezing place wearing next to nothing?
Coira didn’t have long to wait. Gertrude appeared as if by magic and made a sign for her to follow her. She guessed she’d have to try to start a conversation with Gertrude if she stayed with her long enough.
Coira followed her out of the large room and up two flights of stairs she had not seen when she was sitting alone in the room. They passed by several doors before they came to one at the end of the long hallway. Stopping in front of the entry, Gertrude took a set of keys hanging at her waist and unlocked the door.
Is she going to lock me in?
She contemplated making a run for it, but where would she go, dressed as she was? Coira felt she would have better luck if she befriended Gertrude. She had to first test her English on her.
The room the servant let her into was beautiful. There was a fire blazing in the fireplace, and the entire room was taken up with a huge wooden canopy bed. There was no fancy drapery as she was used to in the twenty-first century. This bed had tall wooden poles that extended from the headboard to form the ceiling. It had two thick wooden posters at the front that connected with the roof of the bed. There were beautiful hand carvings on the headboard.
Two Gothic-looking chairs, made of solid oak, were positioned close to the fireplace. To Coira those were strange-looking chairs. Made of two curved arms and two almost identical curved legs, with a tiny cushion in one corner of the hard wooden seat, they didn’t seem at all comfortable to her.
The bed was covered with white linen sheets, and the same plaid as the one she wore was placed like a blanket at the foot of the bed. The room had a dark, melancholy feeling to it; even the one window in the room was covered with the plaid. The dark gloominess of the room was broken by the red cushions on the chairs, the only touch of color.
She was so grateful for the warmth she almost forgot she needed to be trying to escape. “This is a beautiful room, Gertrude,” she said by way of opening up a conversation. She got no response for her troubles, so she tried again.
“Whose room is this, Gertrude?”
“’Tis Mistress Gwinnett’s room.”
“The Laird’s wife?”
“Tha Laird’s nay married. ’Tis his sister’s.”
“Oh, the Laird has a sister. Where’s she now?”
“With her maker. Mistress Gwinnett passed away when she was twenty-six.”
“So sorry to hear. Was she married?
“Nay, m’lady.”
“Is there a bathroom or toilet?”
“What might that be, m’lady?”
“A place to ….” And Coira proceeded to make funny movements of sitting on a toilet.
“Aye, there are the chamber pots.” She pulled one out from beneath the bed to show Coira.
“You mean you go to the toilet in this chamber pot?” Coira asked incredulously.
“There’s the garderobe next to the great hall, m’lady.”
“A garderobe?” she asked.
“Aye,” Gertrude answered, turning to walk out of the room.
“What about taking a bath?”
“Would ye be needing a bath now, m’lady?”
“I might,” Coira told her, trying to be difficult. She really didn’t need a bath and had no intentions of taking one. She’d let the disagreeable Gertrude figure it out.
“Well, that would require the kitchen staff to bring up a tub and filling it with water for a bath,” Gertrude told her.
After watching her walking around the room in a huff, Coira decided to put her out of her misery by asking for some water to freshen up instead.
“Then, ’tis a jug and basin ye will be needing,” Gertrude told her before walking out and locking the door behind her.
So she supposed she was a prisoner and didn’t have the run of the keep. She sat on the edge of the bed, looking around the room. The walls were not painted. They were all natural-colored wood and rough stonework. It gave the room a masculine feel. She couldn’t imagine a young woman in here. She must have been a very unusual young woman. If this were her room, she would put a splash of color in it.
She took a seat in one of the chairs in front of the fire and was just about to kick off her boots, which were killing her feet, when she heard the key in the door. Thinking it was Gertrude, she remained sitting. Only it wasn’t Gertrude who walked through the door; it was the warrior himself. She’d been so hoping she would not have to deal with him for a while. That she would be so lucky.
He was wearing an identical plaid to the one she still had wrapped around her over his kilt.
“Gertrude told me ye asked various questions. Would ye like to tell me where yer home is once again?”
“I’ve already told you several times. I need to go back home. I have a sick dad who looks forward to seeing me every night. I have my job and my friends.”
“Well, seeing how I didna invite ye and I dinna ken how to return ye from whence ye came, we’ll have to wait for whoever may be responsible for yer being here to come forward.”
Coria noticed he spoke the dialect when he was speaking with his men or when he did it without thinking.
“I’ve told you a million times. No one sent me here. I must have stepped through a time warp and landed here.”
“And what is a time warp?” He was back in control again, she noticed.
“It’s a black hole in space that people and things disappear into. I don’t know much about it, and that’s the only explanation I could come up with.”
“Well, that explanation does nae satisfy me; I dinnae ken,” he said.
“You’ve made up your mind about me already, so nothing I say will go over well with you. I have only one request,” she told him.
“What’s that?”
“I need to get back home. I have responsibilities to take care of.”
“Aye, I remember. Yer father and yer job.”
“That’s nothing to take lightly. If the situation were reversed, you’d want to get back to your home and family also. I see I’m being locked in so I can’t even leave this room.”
“Before I let ye out, my men must return with word from the neighboring clan. I suspect one of them is behind yer presence here.”
“When are they going to be back
? Is this going to take days, weeks, even?”
“They’ll be here anon.”
“You mean they’ll be here tonight?”
“Aye, I expect them soon.”
“What does soon mean? I need to know.”
“Tonight, on the morrow, it depends on several things. They’ll be here soon. Calm yerself. I will come for ye as soon as they return. Then we will discuss returning ye from whence ye came.”
“Why do you believe your neighboring clan would send me into your home?”
“That answer to that is because of the feud brewing between us. ’Tis all made worse as we are preparing for war with England to keep the Bruce on the Scottish throne. If they can create a diversion and discredit us, it will weaken the Bruce. They do not support the Bruce and want another on the throne.”
“I can assure you I don’t know a clan, never visited a clan, and where I came from there are no clans and no Bruce.”
“Do not fret yerself over the matter. Ye have naught to worry about, and all will be settled soon.”
Coira closed her eyes. She didn’t want to be here. She didn’t want to like this Laird, and so far, he’d done nothing to harm her, and she could not help liking him. Granted, he truly was a dish of a man, but she’d much rather be back in New York.
She was seething, angry at the hand she’d been dealt. She couldn’t leave the conversation hanging on the off chance of what the men would report on their return.
“What would happen if your men brought word that the neighboring clan knows nothing about me? Will you be able to send me back to Manhattan?”
“’Tis not possible, lass. I do not have the power to send ye through… what did ye call it? That time warp?”
“Do you know anyone who can?” she asked. “Maybe that Alasdair guy. It would solve all our problems if you contacted him.”
“No, I’ve already told ye I am Alasdair. There is no other.”
“I refuse to believe you are that nice, handsome man I followed into his office, which landed me here, even if you do have a slight resemblance to him. I also refuse to accept that I can’t return home.”
