by B. J. Scott
~ * ~
Upon reaching the door, Alex knocked, but there was no answer. He peered in the window, and saw no one. “It looks to be deserted. Are you sure you don’t know who owns this place?”
Ciara raised her head. “I dinna recall seeing this hut before. But the storm has me confused, so I canna be sure where we are, let alone who might live here.”
Alex set Ciara on her feet as he tried the latch, relieved when he heard a click and the door swung open. After lifting her again, he entered the small dwelling, carried her to a stool before the hearth, and set her upon it. Puzzled, he glanced around the room. “There is no fire, yet they left a tallow candle burning. Had they not, I would never have noticed the hut amidst the trees.”
“Perhaps they had to go outside to gather some wood and lost their way in the storm,” Ciara said. “They could return at any minute.”
“Well until they do, we are staying put.” Alex found a pelt at the foot of the bed and wrapped it around her shoulders. “This should help to warm you. I noticed some wood in the corner by the hearth, so that couldn’t have been the reason they left. I’ll start a fire, and once it gets going, you can undress and I’ll hang your things to dry.”
Ciara gasped and pressed her hand to her heart. “Surely you jest, m’lord. It wouldna be proper for me to disrobe when alone with a man to whom I am na wed.”
Alex laughed. “Modesty should be the least of your worries. If you don’t get out of those wet things, you’ll catch your death of cold and it won’t matter who sees you. Besides, you have the pelt to cover yourself and I promise to be a gentleman.”
After placing several logs, some dry tinder and peat on the hearth, Alex used the lit candle to ignite the fire. He’d earned many merit badges when he was a boy scout, but wilderness survival was not one of them. He had no matches or lighter, so if he had to start a fire by striking stones or rubbing sticks together, they’d have been in for a very chilly night.
Alex watched as the flames rapidly consumed the dry wood, heat radiating from the glowing embers. “It won’t take long for things to warm up.” As he stood to address Ciara, a sudden flashback to the morning he’d awakened in the hag’s croft invaded his thoughts. His gaze darted back to the hearth. But this time he didn’t see Ciara’s face in the fire. Alex swallowed hard against the lump of bile rising in his throat when the image of Cailleach appeared before him.
“I told you na to interfere in things that are none of your concern. Return the lass to the well and go back from where you came while there is still time. I’ll na warn you again. Defy me and you will suffer the consequences.”
“Is something amiss?” Ciara asked.
Alex stiffened, his gaze fixed on the image before him. The first time this happened he’d attributed the vision to an herb-induced stupor and an overactive imagination. But he was totally sober and there was no explaining what he now saw or heard. As the image began to fade, he whipped around to face Ciara. “Did you see that?”
She shrugged. “I see naught but the fire.”
He glanced over his shoulder and the hag was gone. “I must be more tired than I thought.” Alex stirred the coals using an iron poker he found beside the hearth, then began a search of the hut, looking for a pot he could use to melt some snow. If Ciara was as thirsty as he was, he was certain she’d welcome something warm to drink.
“What are you searching for?” Ciara asked. She cuddled beneath the pelt, her teeth no longer chattering.
“An iron pot so I can heat some water. I’m also hoping to find some food we can eat. We could be holed up here for a while”
Alex found the idea of being stranded alone with Ciara more than appealing. He’d felt the overpowering attraction at the crash site, and it grew with each minute he spent in her company.
Never had a woman ignited such passion or desire, and he’d dated some beautiful, powerful women in his day. Perhaps that was it. Unlike the modern, ambitious, no-nonsense women he’d known, there was something pure and sweet about Ciara. He found her quiet, gentle demeanor, her inner strength and sense conviction refreshing as well as admirable. While she didn’t outwardly exude confidence or pride in her appearance, he somehow knew those qualities existed without the need for fanfare or idle praise.
But there was so much more to this complicated situation than mere physical attraction. As determined as Alex was to save Ciara’s life, Laird Innes and his warriors were determined to end it. These men were not driven by greed or ruthless brutality, but by something stronger, their beliefs.
The battle Alex waged wasn’t just one between right and wrong, life and death, but against deep rooted tradition, honored by his ancestors for centuries. As barbaric as it sounded, Alex stood in awe of the influence the ancient superstition had on people’s lives. He didn’t agree with it, but he did respect its power.
If they were stranded here for days, he wouldn’t mind. But the storm wouldn’t last forever, and when it ended, their haven would no longer be a safe place to hide. With Imbolc less than a day away and given Ciara’s part, the laird’s men would be hot on their heels. They needed to find her and return her to the well in time for the ceremony to take place. Something Alex was determined to prevent from happening.
“Did you look over there?” Ciara pointed to a shelf near the window.
“I beg your pardon?”
“For the pot,” she said smiling.
“Not yet, but I will.” Alex moved to the shelf. “Jackpot!”
“I beg your pardon? What is jackpot?”
“It means I found what I was looking for.” Alex held a black pot in the air so Ciara could see it, then checked inside several clay crocks. “We’re in luck. There is some dried venison, some oats, and what looks and smells like mint. I’ll melt some snow and add the mint. Then I’ll make some porridge. It won’t be anything fancy, but it will stick to—”
A noise outside the croft caught his attention. Alex fingered the hilt of his sword and swiftly moved toward the door. He brought a finger to his lips. “Shhh. And stay put. I think there might be someone outside,” he whispered.
Ciara clutched the pelt beneath her chin, her eyes wide with fear. “Be careful, Alex. You dinna know who it might be.”
“It could have been a fallen branch hitting the roof. It is windy and the croft is surrounded by trees,” he said. “But if someone is out there, they know we’re here. I’ve no choice but to find out.” He sucked in a deep breath for courage, withdrew his sword, and reached for the latch. “Here goes nothing.” Heart hammering, he yanked open the door, coming face to face with the last thing he expected.
Alex began to laugh. He slid his sword into its sheath, and glanced at Ciara.
She frowned. “What’s so humorous?”
“This.” Alex opened the door wider and motioned with a sweep of his hand. “The owner of the croft has a barrel of oats stored against the house and a buck decided to help himself.”
Ciara smiled. “I’m glad it was a deer. For a moment I feared your father’s warriors had found our hiding spot.” With a downcast gaze, she nibbled on her lower lip. “How long do you think it will be before the storm ends and they come looking for us?”
“There is no way of knowing how long it will last, but judging by those dark clouds in the sky and the way it’s coming down, I’d expect the storm will continue until tomorrow,” he replied and went to fetch the pot. “As soon as it clears up enough for us to travel, we’ll be on our way. For now, we need to rest up and stay warm.” Alex once again headed for the door. “I’ll scoop us some snow to melt. While I do that, why don’t you slip out of your wet clothes and place them by the hearth. Wrap up in the pelt and when I return, I’ll make us something to eat and drink.”
Ciara offered a hesitant nod. “Hurry back.”
Chapter Seven
“I doubt we’ll have to worry about anyone tracking us.” Alex entered the croft and shook off the snow. “It’s coming down so heavily, you can’t see
two feet in front of you. I was thinking—” Alex began, but stopped midsentence when he noticed Ciara warming herself by the fire, her unbound hair a waist-length cascade of dark curls tumbling down her back. He swallowed hard, his gazed fixed on a vision of loveliness. She looked like an angel.
“I was . . . um.” He tried to finish what he’d started to say, but found himself at a loss for words and unable to take his eyes off her.
“Is something amiss?” she asked, and turned to face him.
“No. Everything is fine.”
While Alex was pleased to see she’d removed her clothing and hung them to dry as he’d suggested, she was not bundled up in the pelt. Instead, she stood before him in bare feet, wearing a white chemise that didn’t quite come to her ankles.
“Where did you get the night gown?” He asked, almost choking on the words. The fabric of the garment was so thin he could make out the silhouette of each luscious curve of her slender figure, leaving little to his imagination.
“I found it in the wooden trunk at the foot of the bed. I hope the owner of the croft doesna mind.” Ciara took the pot full of snow that Alex toted and suspended it from a chain hanging over the fire. “The coals are hot so it willna take long for this to boil.”
“Yes. Hot,” he replied, still dazed by her beauty. “You must be cold.” He moved to the shelf beside the hearth, tugged down a length of plaid he’d noticed earlier, and returned to where Ciara stood. Doing his best to avert his eyes and to keep from staring with his mouth gaping open, he wrapped the wool fabric around her shoulders. He was only human, the temptation too great. “This should help to keep you warm.”
“I’m sure it will. Thank you.” Ciara smiled and touched his hand, a jolt of pure energy shooting up his arm and setting his heart afire.
“Are you certain there isna something bothering you? You look concerned or mayhap distracted.” She lightly caressed his shoulder.
He was concerned, afraid she might get caught and sacrificed to the winter hag despite his efforts to save her. He worried about what would happen if he suddenly found himself back in 2017 without her. But right now, they were safe and together, so that was all that mattered.
“Everything is fine.” Alex moved to the hearth, stirred the water as it began to bubble. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving,” he said. Anything to keep his mind off of making love to her. “I’ll make some porridge and we can have some of the dried venison I found earlier. It won’t be fancy fare, but will do in a storm.” He chuckled at his own joke, but Ciara didn’t appear amused. “After we’ve eaten we’d better get some sleep. I have a feeling tomorrow will be a long and exhausting day.”
Ciara wrapped her arms around her middle and stared at the fire. “What will become of us after the storm?”
“I thought since neither of us can return to our clans, maybe we could head toward Inverness after we ensure your sister’s safety.” Alex said. “We don’t have to stay there. If you want, we can travel farther south once spring arrives, perhaps go as far as Edinburgh.” Since he had no idea how long he’d remain in the past, he really had no right to make promises he might not be able to keep, but if he had Ciara in his life, he believed he could adjust to the twelfth century quite nicely.
“If spring arrives,” she muttered.
Alex slid his arm around her waist and drew her against his chest. It was a gutsy, impulsive move on his part so he was glad she didn’t try to push him away. “Of course the spring will come. I swear to you, it will come, and we have our whole lives ahead of us.”
“I’m na so sure about that. And if the land is condemned to eternal winter, it will be all my fault.” She tugged free of his embrace and began to pace. “I was the chosen one. It was my duty to offer myself to the winter hag so she’d release the land from her icy spell. But instead, in a moment of weakness, I ran away, shunned my duty, forsook my honor, and in doing so, I’ve risked my sister’s life and disgraced myself before my clan.” She stopped suddenly and whipped around to face Alex. “But it is still not too late for me to do what’s right.”
“What do you mean it’s not too late?” he asked, even though he had a strong feeling he knew what she was about to say.
“If you were to take me back to Burghead and turn me over to your father, we could set the wrong to right,” Ciara said. “You could tell him you found me wandering in the woods while you were hunting and brought me back so the Imbolc Ritual could be completed. This way you willna be accused of helping me escape. And things will be as they should be.”
“I’ll do no such thing,” Alex replied, a little harsher than he intended. “If I take you back, they’ll put you in irons until Imbolc, then toss you in the well to appease the old hag. That is not going to happen while I have the power to stop it.”
“But you dinna understand, Alex. I’ve always known the day would come when I was called upon to offer my life for the benefit of the clan. I am ready to do that now.”
“Well I’m not ready to let you go. I just found you, Ciara.” Alex reached out to her, but she brushed his hand away.
“I should never have let you talk me into leaving the well.”
“I’m glad I did.” Alex said. “Call me daft, but now that I have found you, I want to spend the rest of my life with you. If you want to talk about fate and destiny, let’s, because I believe you are my destiny.” He thumped his fist against his chest.
“Perhaps you are mad,” Ciara answered after a lengthy pause. She turned her back to him.
“Fine. But you are not going back to Burghead. At least not tonight.” Getting nowhere, Alex dished out two bowls of porridge, slammed them on the table, and plunked himself down. “Sit and eat.”
“I’m na hungry or thirsty.” Ciara continued to stand. “You may be the son of Laird Innes, but you have no say in what I do. If I choose to go back, I will, and nothing is going to stop me.” She crossed her arms over her chest and raised her chin in a show of defiance.
“Starving yourself will prove nothing.” Alex shoved the stool beside him away from the table and gestured to it. “You’re right, Ciara. I canna force you to do something you don’t want to do. But I wish you’d eat something before it gets cold. Please.” He scooped up another spoonful of oats and put it in his mouth. But he could not keep his eyes off Ciara. Hell, even when she was angry, she was beautiful. And he seemed to have a knack for antagonizing her.
Ciara huffed, then sat, but instead of eating, she folded her hands in her lap and stared at the bowl before her. “I want to go back, Alex.” She picked up a spoon and swirled it in the porridge.
Seeing her in such turmoil caused his heart to ache. If only he could say something that would ease her mind and her conscience, convince her that her death was both not necessary, and would be a great loss. Not only to her family and clan, but to him as well. But it seemed the more he said, the worse he made things. If anything, he’d acted like an insensitive ass.
He slid his hand over hers and gave it a squeeze. “I know this is a ritual on which you’ve been raised, but as I told you before, I honestly believe the spring will come whether you forfeit your life or not. It’s just basic science. Seasons change no matter what we do, or in this case, don’t do.”
A puzzled expression crossed Ciara’s face. “What is science? You speak strangely and use words I have never heard before. Are they from an ancient tongue?”
Alex was surprised she hadn’t asked sooner. His ancient Gaelic was rudimentary at best, and he frequently caught himself using words from the twenty-first century. Eventually, he’d have to tell her the truth, but this was not the right time, so he lied. “I traveled a lot when I was a boy…I mean a lad. Have you ever been anywhere but Burghead?”
“Nay. There was never a need.”
“That would explain why I sound odd to you at times.” Alex didn’t see anything wrong with a little white lie if it eased her concerns. “I fostered for a time with Clan Forbes, then my father sent me to stay wi
th a dear friend in the southern part of Scotland where I fostered with Clan Douglas.”
“I suppose that would affect how one speaks,” she replied. “But it doesna explain why you are so set against the ancient customs carried out by our people for centuries.”
He shrugged. “I’m not being critical of ancient customs. It’s just that I believe a man’s life is governed by his own actions.”
“Without traditions we have naught.”
Alex slid two fingers beneath her chin and raised it until their eyes met. “Life is what you make it, Ciara.”
“Is it? You say you govern your own life, but you are the son of a laird. Someday, you will be called upon to sit in your father’s place and assume his role as chief. Whether you want to or na.”
“We could argue this forever and never agree. But I don’t understand how you knew you’d be chosen to be the one who must die.” Nothing he had ever learned about the twelfth century could validate many of the things he’d heard and seen since his arrival, but he decided to listen, rather than challenging Ciara’s story. She believed too deeply to be swayed.
“I am an oldest daughter and, as such, it is my destiny.”
“I thought you were selected because you were caught trespassing at the well and took the sacred water for your ailing father. You are your clan’s healer are you not?”
“Aye. And the water was also needed to purify the earth during the Imbolc festival,” she said. “But your father locked me away because he feared I might use the water to thwart the winter hag.” She lowered he gaze and wrung her hands. “But he was wrong. I would have offered myself on Imbolc, as is my destiny.”
“I still don’t understand how you came to be the chosen maiden. Alex scrubbed his hand across his chin. This simply made no sense to him. He was an archeologist and he was more familiar with the history of Scotland than many people who lived here. Human sacrifices simply were not a part of this culture. And even if they were, why did it have to be Ciara? ”
