by Ashe Barker
“Not so much the paddling, as you call it. That was horrible, it hurt like hell, and I’m going to be sore for days. I’d very much like not to repeat it, if you please, though I probably wouldn’t make as much fuss next time.”
Will fixes me with a level look. Positioned as he is at my rear, I can’t see Robbie’s face, but I imagine his features are similarly set. Will replies for both of them. “We can’t promise not to repeat it, lassie, but you can be assured we won’t seek to punish you unduly. Nor will we ever injure you. You’re a strange creature to be sure, but we find ourselves unusually fond of you and we will see you safe if we can.”
“I hated the switch, and being forced to undress. I still think that was mean of you. You took advantage…” I pause, uncertain if I should continue, or what to say next.
“But?” Robbie is not letting me leave it there.
“But I loved the way you cared for me. After. And you listened to me, believed me when I had my meltdown.”
“Your what?”
“Meltdown. When I got so upset, and scared. Confused.”
Will’s features soften into a wry smile. “Ah, well, it’s not every day you lose the best part of four and a half centuries into thin air, is it, wee Charlie? On balance, I’d say you took it well. Though I’m not sure we believe you entirely. It’s a bit much to accept.”
“You’re telling me. But what other explanation is there? I know what I saw yesterday—the wind turbines, the tree, that farm. But now, today… nothing. And you told me what the year is now. I know when I set out yesterday I was in the twenty-first century. So…?” I hesitate, not wanting to bring up the next, inevitable point. “If you don’t believe me, if you think I’m lying, why are you not cutting another switch?”
Robbie answers me. “Why indeed, lass? Maybe because whatever we might think, you do seem to believe this fanciful tale of yours. You’re telling us what you believe to be true, and we’ll settle for that until something happens to prove or disprove your story. If we do discover you’ve been lying, then you don’t need us to remind you of the consequences.”
No, indeed I do not. I cringe as I contemplate the prospect of being stripped and beaten again, though this time my emotions are more mixed. However painful and humiliating the experience, I cannot deny it holds a certain erotic promise too. If I let it.
I dismiss those disconcerting ideas with some effort, determined to change the subject. I’ve shared information about myself so maybe now they could do the same. And it may help me to become less disoriented if I understood more about my companions.
“You are both noblemen, I take it. In Scotland?” I’m not sure if that is the correct term but it’s the best I can manage.
“Aye, lass, I suppose that’s a way to describe us.” Will grins across at me. “I’m the fourth son though, so not likely to inherit much of note. My father still lives and I have three older brothers who are well able to manage clan affairs and I’d be in the way. I prefer to make myself useful to our sovereign, and earn what I fondly think of as a living as an adventurer.” He jerks his thumb in Robbie’s direction. “He has but one brother, the laird, but the MacBride is blessed with two fine lads already and another bairn on the way so he’s in much the same boat as me. It’s a good enough existence, I suppose. We have enough excitement to keep us occupied, especially now that we’re saddled with a wee lassie badly in need of some firm discipline.”
I know exactly what he means by that final comment and I clench my poor abused bottom. Even so, I can’t quite bring myself to protest. The most sensible notion I can come up with is that this is not real life. Whatever madness I’ve stumbled into, the usual rules don’t apply here. If I want to submit to being spanked by sexy Highlanders, who’s to say I can’t?
“What are you thinking, girl?” Will has brought his mount up close and is studying my face carefully. I fear my ambivalence is apparent for him to see. In a sudden and uncharacteristic rush of reckless abandon I turn to look him in the eye.
“I’m thinking that all this talk of spanking is making me feel rather odd, and not in a bad way entirely.” I pause, then plough on. Not real life, after all. “If one of you wanted to touch me, to deal with my arousal as you so delicately put it back there, then that might be rather nice.”
“One of us? Do you have a preference, then?”
Good question. And one I don’t have a ready answer for. “No. I mean, you’re both different, but very handsome. And—compelling. I’m attracted to each of you. I wouldn’t want to cause any problem though. Between you two, I mean.”
“Why would you cause a problem? We’ve shared women before.” Robbie tightens his hold on me as I swivel in the saddle to peer up at him.
“You have? I mean, oh. Wow. How does that work then? Would you take turns, or…?”
“Or?”
“I don’t know. I can’t believe I’m even having this conversation.” Either one of these intriguing, dominant men would be more than enough to handle. The possibility of a sexual fling with both of them is just mind-blowing. But exciting. Incredibly, wonderfully exciting.
Robbie grins at me. “You are though. And by that rather fetching flush on your face, are we to gather you find the notion to be one you’d like to explore?”
“I, yes. Yes, I would. I think.”
“Ah, girl, we’re going to have such a good time together. Exploring.” He dips his head to drop a brief kiss on my forehead. “But first, we should eat. We broke camp in something of a rush and had not time to break our fast. Then I think it’s fair to say you distracted us back there with your luscious body, and your somewhat startling revelations about those lost centuries. I feel a need for a square meal before embarking on any further adventures.”
My stomach rumbles its agreement. “Do we have any food?”
“We can probably find a couple of plump trout in yonder stream, as well as some fresh water.” He nods in the direction of a swift flow over to the east of us, probably a stream that discharges eventually into Ullswater. “Will here has a useful knack for tickling the little ladies right out of the water. I reckon we’ll eat well enough. And we’re all going to need our strength.”
“Aye, I daresay I can find enough to sustain us.” Will screws up his eyes to peruse the moorland stream. “What’s that? Over there, just beyond the burn? That splash of blue.”
Robbie stretches behind me, looking over the top of my head. “A kingfisher, perhaps?”
Will shakes his head. “Too dark. And the wrong shape.”
I peer in the direction they seem to be looking, and my heart lurches as I recognise the lumpy outline, the particular shade of royal blue I loved when I first saw it in the Go Outdoors online catalogue. “It’s mine. My backpack. I put it down, just before you grabbed me. This must be the same place.”
“Yes, I suppose it could be.” This from Robbie, as he urges the horse forward.
“Can I go get it back? I mean, we could carry it, surely. It’s lightweight.”
“It doesn’t look light, lass. Are you really telling us you dragged that bloody load all the way up here?” Will kicks his horse into a canter again and closes the distance between our position and my abandoned kit. He hauls the horse to a halt beside my rucksack and leaps from the saddle. I can’t help admiring his agile, efficient movements. For a large man he is remarkably nimble.
He reaches for my pack and lifts it easily with his left hand. It dangles from his grip and he swings it, testing the weight. He calls back to Robbie. “She’s right, it’s not heavy.”
I turn to Robbie, hopeful. “So I can keep it then? Please? It has my things in it, stuff that might be useful. And food. I have my supplies in there too.”
“You don’t fancy a nice bit of trout then, lass?”
“What? Yes, of course. But…”
“You’re too easy riled, wee Charlie. Of course you can keep your belongings. We’ll strap your bag onto one of the saddles. So, about breakfast…” Robbie steers
our horse over to where Will is already kneeling beside the stream, his sleeve rolled up. He lowers me to the ground next to my precious backpack then slides down himself. “I’ll gather some firewood. Raw trout isn’t nearly so appetising.”
I beam up at him from my position on the ground. I’m already reaching into my pack, the familiar sight of my twenty-first century equipment reassuring me that I’m not entirely mad. Even if I have just agreed to sleep with two seriously scary Scotsmen.
I have several minutes to check the contents of my bag. Nothing has been disturbed; it’s clear that no one has been by since I dropped it yesterday. Everything is still here.
Robbie returns and drops a pile of sticks on the ground before me. “A bit damp, but with some straw for kindling we might manage a blaze.” He peers up into the sky, now a brilliant blue dotted with just a few clouds. “And the day is becoming warmer as the sun gets higher.”
It is becoming fairly warm, but still we need that fire to cook our fish. And I can do better than wrestle with the uncertain vagaries of moist kindling. I rummage in my pack for my field fire-lighting kit. I pull a small handful of flammable gauze from the vacuum-packed container and arrange that under the sticks. I’m aware of Robbie standing beside me, his boots planted just to my left. I ignore him and reach for the sticks, then arrange them in a small tepee shape over my ball of gauze. Next I find my cheap gas lighter, the sort you can buy in packs of ten at any tobacconist or duty-free shop. They’re ideal for camping, light and inexpensive. I click the top to produce a flame, then lean in to light the gauze. In moments the fire is crackling merrily, the sustained heat from my gauze drying the sticks so they ignite easily enough. I sit back on my haunches, pleased with the results of my efforts.
I reach to drop the lighter back into my pack, but Robbie forestalls me. “May I look at that, please?”
I pass it to him. “It’s a lighter…”
“I saw what it did. How does it work?”
I stand and reach for his hand, only afterwards realising this is the first time I’ve touched him voluntarily. His lopsided grin suggests he is aware of the significance too. He allows me to arrange the lighter in his hand, and place his thumb on the lever at the top.
“You press that, it makes the flint spark, and that ignites the gas inside.”
“Gas?”
“Yes. Liquid gas. You can see it, there.” I tap the clear plastic casing to ripple the liquid, visible inside. “That’s the fuel. When it runs out you throw it away and get another one.”
“You have another one?” His eyebrow is raised, his expression somewhere between incredulous and admiring.
“Yes. I always carry a spare.”
“Spare what?” Will approaches us, carrying three shimmering fish upside down by their tails. “Good. You have a fire. Now we just need to gut these…” He brandishes his catch, clearly expecting some assistance from here on.
“With your permission we’ll be having a good look through your bag, young Charlie. I reckon you’ll have some fascinating items to show us, aye? But first, we eat.” Robbie kneels beside Will and the pair of them use their daggers to gut the fish. Not to be outdone, I remove my snug jacket in deference to the rapidly warming morning and dig into my rucksack again and this time retrieve a pack of narrow wooden kebab skewers. I use those to spit the pieces of fish as they are prepared, and hold those over the licking flames. Neither man comments. Once their part in the proceedings is complete, they simply lie back on the heather watching me. They allow me to finish the cooking then we all feast on freshly barbecued fish, served on twenty-first century plastic plates.
“Do we throw these away?” Robbie waggles his empty plate at me, that eyebrow raised in a way I am finding very familiar now.
“No. We need to wash them as best we can, in the stream. We can use them again and again.”
“I see. Let me have yours then, and I’ll do that.” Robbie takes my plate, and Will’s, and saunters off in the direction of the brook.
Will props himself up on his elbow to watch me. I feel self-conscious under his steady gaze.
“You’re still scared of me, lass. I can tell that you are, even though you’ll deny it. You’re more comfortable with Robbie, aye?”
“It’s not that. I mean, I just… I’ve had more contact with him, I suppose.”
“That’s true, and not all of it good.”
“Even so, I feel I know him better. That’s all.”
“Then you’ll ride with me for the rest of today, and I’ll be the first to fuck you. Are we agreed?”
Typical Will, direct as ever. “I, I suppose…”
“Will’s right, lass. You need to be at ease with us both for this to work between us, and we don’t play favourites.” I hadn’t heard Robbie’s return. For such a large man he moves in silence—no wonder he was able to take me so totally by surprise yesterday.
“I’m sorry. I never meant that. What I said earlier, about wanting both of you, that was true. But I would like to spend more time with you, Will. And thank you for the offer of a ride.”
“You’re welcome, lass. So now, will you be showing us some more of your treasures then?” At my puzzled look he elaborates. “Your bag, wee Charlie. What else do ye have in there?”
I drag the rucksack over to me and open the top. I start pulling items out. First my tent, a bright yellow two-man pop-up affair. I laugh out loud at the amazed expressions on their faces when I twist the coiled frame and release it to let the tent spring into shape. It erects before their eyes, a bright, golden weatherproof shelter, and just about big enough for all of us. At a pinch.
“Sweet Jesus, look at that. It’s a wee house.” Will lets out a low whistle under his breath. I grin and demonstrate securing the tent to the ground with tent pegs, which I force into the earth with the heel of my hiking boot.
Next I show them my sleeping bag, sadly only big enough for one but we can open it out and spread it on the floor of the tent to use as a groundsheet. The plaids will have to provide the warmth we need on top. Not that I’m expecting to be cold.
The remaining items are smaller. My map and compass fascinate Will. I spread the map on the ground and point out where we are now, and the features on the map that don’t yet exist in this world—the road through the Kirkstone Pass, the wind farm, several villages, including Glenridding.
“There’s a pub there, on the pass. High up on the fells. It’s very old, perhaps…” Could it already exist, here in this time?
“Aye, there is an inn up there. For travellers and stock drovers, I daresay. Maybe it has survived to your time.” I note with quiet satisfaction that Will seems to be no longer questioning the truth of my situation. “Mariners use something akin to this, to plot their course over the ocean.” He turns my compass over in his hand.
“Yes, I suppose the basic principle doesn’t change. You’ll have seen a magnifying glass too, I imagine.”
“Aye, lass. Do you have one of those as well then?”
“Sort of.” I pull out my binoculars and hand them to Will. “These are based on the same sort of principle, but are designed for seeing clearly and in detail, over long distances. Just point them at a distant spot and look through them. You’ll need to adjust the little wheel on the top, focus them for your eyes…”
I watch as Will does as I suggest. He lowers the binoculars, his expression puzzled. “It’s just a blur, like looking through a glass of water.”
“You need to focus them. Turn that wheel while you’re looking through them, until it all clears.” I indicate the focusing control and urge him to try again.
He does, then suddenly stiffens. “Shit! Holy Mother of God, how did it do that?” He drops the binoculars onto the springy grass and scrambles back, glaring at them in suspicion.
I retrieve them and hand them to Robbie. “Would you like to see?”
Robbie repeats Will’s actions, and forewarned as he is he manages not to make such a spectacle of himself. He lowers th
e glasses and regards me with his usual wry expression. “How far away from us is yonder stand of trees?”
I shade my eyes to see where he means. “Two miles, maybe.”
“Yet I can pick out the oaks from the beech, even at this distance. These could come in very useful, I’m thinking.”
“I expect they would. Would you like to keep them?”
Robbie shakes his head and hands the binoculars back to me. “Nay, lass, I didn’t mean to commandeer your belongings.”
I don’t take them. “Please, keep them. As a gift. To remember me by. When I’m gone.”
Will reaches across to loop an arm around my shoulders. “Gone? Where are you planning on going to then, wee Charlie?”
“Back to the twenty-first century. I hope. If I can find the way…”
“If you managed to find a hole to wriggle through to bring you here, there must be a route back. It stands to reason. And if there is, we’ll find it.” Will has recovered his composure sufficiently to take the binoculars and try again. He seems equally impressed with their power and stands to survey the landscape in every direction. Robbie and I remain seated on the ground, grinning to each other at his obvious delight in the new toy. “Did you say we could keep these?”
“Yes. Please do. I have other stuff too. Maybe not as exciting, but you might like to see…” I rummage in the bag again, and this time produce my humble notepad and a ballpoint pen. I demonstrate their use, and as I imagined both men are impressed. Robbie takes the pen and wraps his fist around it, clearly not familiar with the correct way to hold a writing implement. I have momentary pang of embarrassment. It never occurred to me they may not be able to read and write. Then, as I watch, he scrawls his name awkwardly on the paper.
“Aye, it’s a queer thing to be sure, but I could get used to it, I expect.”
And I expect I’ll be leaving quite a lot of my kit behind. I wonder if I’ll cause a temporal meltdown by leaving items in the wrong chronological place, alter the course of history somehow. Still, it’s too late now. The next items I retrieve are my food supplies, a couple of packets of dried vegetable soup, four cereal bars, several teabags, and some sachets of long-life milk. It had been my intention to eat in pubs and hostels as much as possible so I haven’t stocked a great deal in the way of provisions. It’s just as well my current companions seem adept at living off the land.
