Peter’s gaze questioned the door that shimmied in the light, a movement that hadn’t been there before. He lifted the ball from the weeds at his feet and stared at the door. “I think we only have time for one attempt. This thing is about to close.” With that said, he threw the ball straight at her and her hand lifted to catch the ball.
But the gooey yellow ball vanished before her eyes and so did Bella, though she could hear the dog rustling through some type of foliage. Then she reappeared to drop the ball at Peter’s feet.
“They don’t go both ways,” he muttered.
Panic filled her with losing the dog and a certainty filled her that she had to try, or she’d never forgive herself. Tingles shot threw her limbs, and without deep consideration for anything other than the dog, Sarah leapt through the wavering door.
Chapter 2
The barking did not sound like one of the dogs kept within his walls, though after years of absence, Conall knew none of the clan’s dogs by name. The fact that he and Peter had set out to hunt with only horses, not dogs, had him setting an arrow in the bow. Wild dogs had been known to cause a man a great harm when they attacked. He left his sword strapped to his back. If it happened to be such a creature, the arrow would allow him to take it down without personal risk.
Following the sounds, Conall took the path to the left when he spotted Peter’s footprints. The man had an off-kilter gait that made his tracks easy to discern. He had no care for the sights of the woods of his lands or the trail of the stag they had sought, only the trail that would lead him to Peter. Conall paused to listen and heard the soft din of Peter’s laughter mixed with the barking.
Still, the arrow stayed notched and ready to fly. Conall followed the curve of the well-worn path and sucked in a harsh gasp of air as a rush of tingles shot down his spine. Peter stood next to a great beast that allowed his touch. He assumed it was a breed of dog, yet never in his life had he seen a dog of such girth and raw muscle. All of the dogs kept by the Bruce had wiry hair and thin bodies due to their nature. The beast before him had to be his height, if it were to stand on its hind legs. The jaws looked as if they could snap through a large branch or a man’s leg with ease.
Gripping the bow, his gaze followed Peter’s and his breath ceased. Before the man stood a doorway with scraggly brush and flat wooden surfaces blocked by a woman. Conall sucked in needed air at the vision of her raw perfection. He assumed her to be Irish given the flaming red hair that glowed like fire in the night. That the markings on her green shirt matched none of the clans he knew made the foreigner notion simple to accept. Her fair skin was dotted with freckles that beckoned to him and he absently wondered if she felt as soft as she looked. For many a year, he had only seen women thinned by years of crops being raided by the English and those who traded their bodies for coin were never much better. He couldn’t remember the last time he had viewed a woman who appeared robust. While those on his lands were healthy, none called to his flesh as she did.
Peter lifted a round object and threw it at the door that whispered to him of clan legends. The object landed in the brush, not in the door, though the woman held out her hand to catch it. The great beast leapt after it and brought it back to Peter’s feet, never going into the door it should have run through.
Conall’s world tilted with the woman in his sights and his blood roared in his veins. Then he caught the instant her blue eyes, which reminded him of the sea on a bright sunny day, changed and became determined. Years of battles and training had him expecting her next move before Peter did. Determination filled those wide eyes before they narrowed in purpose. Then she leapt into the doorway, from her land to his.
Too late, Peter screamed, “No!” Her movement had already propelled her into the air.
Instinct took over when the great beast towered over the woman who landed and then fell to her hands and knees on his ancestral soil. Securing the arrow, he had the beast’s chest in his sights and then readied to let loose the shot that would save her from certain death.
Belatedly, he saw the scene shift. She turned her head to see him and panic filled her gaze. What he had thought was fear of the beast, centered on him. “Don’t,” she cried too late to stop his arrow but loud enough to alter his aim. With her protest, the woman shifted her body and pushed the beast enough to change the target of the arrow in flight. She screamed as the arrow grazed her flesh and then she fell to her stomach.
“What in the hell is wrong with you?” Peter roared at him even as he dropped to woman’s side. The beast whimpered and nudged the woman tenderly with her nose, its tongue reaching out to kiss her exposed cheek.
“I thought the beast attacked,” Conall answered in defense, running down the trail to be of aid. He stopped fifteen paces from the woman when the beast turned to growl and bare her teeth.
“Sit, Bella,” Peter commanded. To his amazement, the creature did as bidden.
The woman cried out when Peter touched the hip that the arrow had grazed. Thankfully the arrow had not lodged in her full backside. Conall berated his purely carnal thoughts at the flesh injured due to his mistake. “How does she fare?”
“Well, she almost took an arrow to the ass. My guess is not too well.” Where he should be used to man’s sharp tongue, the comment left him speechless.
“Sarah, you’re going to be fine once we get you patched up.” Peter spoke softly to the woman. “You were lucky, and Conall’s aim sucks. It’s only a scratch, though it did go through your pants to cut your skin.”
Her head lifted to witness the faint line of blood and she groaned. Then her gaze landed on his approach. “Why would he try to shoot my dog?”
Conall stopped four paces from the woman injured by his deed. Guilt racked him at causing her harm. Am I only capable of shedding blood? He had been raised to respect woman, not fell them with arrows. “I thought the beast prepared to attack you.” He spared a glance at the creature that eyed him cautiously.
“Bella wouldn’t hurt a fly.” Upon hearing her name, the creature moved to the woman’s side and nestled against her.
“She is hardly one I would call beautiful,” Conall said more to himself. The beast’s muzzle was streaked with scars as were her sides. Running his hands down his chest, he knew he should never criticize any for a scar or four.
“Now really isn’t the time to discuss the dog’s name.” Irritation overtook the pain in Sarah’s voice. Her head turned to stare at Peter. “Shouldn’t you be calling an ambulance or something? You’re nuts if you think I’m going to let you deal with this. I don’t know either of you and should be calling the police.”
Peter pulled a dagger from his side and her eyes widened in fear. “Relax, I won’t hurt you. But there isn’t anyone else to call.” He waited calmly until her protests had ceased. “You didn’t put it together, did you? We’re in Scotland and it isn’t your time. That door sent you back to the fourteenth century. Welcome home, Sarah.”
“Don’t bullshit me. Send me back now. I’ll call the paramedics myself. Maybe they can sedate me so I’ll forget this ever happened.” Her pale skin reddened with fury, though Conall didn’t quite understand why Peter’s offer of aid should infuriate her. The man held a fair amount of skill.
“The door is gone and you saw with your own eyes that it only worked one way, only here and not back to Arizona.” Peter’s voice attempted to soothe the woman who did not wish to hear his truth.
Conall saw only forest where heartbeats ago the fantastical door had been. It saddened him, for he wanted to see it close, to have the image in his mind to describe to his children one day. None in living memory had seen such a sight except Peter.
“She is of your people,” Conall stated more than questioned.
“Sort of,” Peter agreed. “But I know the duty of the Draig clan and will happily return the favor your father did for me years ago. When any meet Sarah, they will meet my family who traveled to live with me.”
“I’m not your family and I want
to go home, preferably to a hospital!” Sarah roared loud enough for the dog to rise and move from her side. “What do you think you are doing?”
Peter knelt at her hip and lifted the edge of her long shirt to peer at the fabric and the wound. “Sorry about the ugly pants, not that you could stay in these here. Not much of a fashion trend in these parts.” The man chuckled as ripped through the fabric to reveal another small piece of blue, though clearly not the same material. The second layer had a shimmer in the daylight that made him think of some type of silk or other finery.
Sarah’s hand shot out to grab Peter’s arm. “I want a doctor.”
“We have a healer and a midwife or two. Sorry, med school doesn’t exist here.” Peter laughed at his strange comments.
The woman snarled at him and pushed him away. Rising to her feet, her hand covered the wound. “Look, I’m willing to call this a hunting accident. In fact, I respect the whole bow and arrow instead of a rifle. So, don’t worry about what I’ll say at the E.R. but I want professional care. And I want to know I can leave here.”
Conall stepped closer and held out his hand for the beast of a dog that attempted to block his path. After a sniff, Bella sat and let him pass. Standing in front of Sarah, he lost his thoughts even as he became trapped in the vivid blue of her angry gaze.
“Forgive me. My intent was truly to save you. Never have I seen such a creature and feared for your life.” Hostility left her gaze and her full lips opened in what he assumed was surprise. Settling to one knee before her, Conall continued. “While you have lost all, you have gained a home. For the remainder of your life, myself or the next laird of the Draig clan will provide all you need. Such is the way of my people. Such is my vow to you.”
For a brief moment, her lips twitched in a hint of a smile while her blue depths took stock of him. Then she shook her head and stepped back. “I think you both are nuts. I’m willing to accept that door led me somewhere else, but not that I’m stuck here in whatever century you think you are living in. Tell me how to go home or have the decency to point me to someone who might lend me their phone. I don’t want any trouble, so let’s forget this ever happened.”
Rising to his feet, Peter held out his hand to stop him from speaking. “I know where she is right now because I’ve been there. It isn’t easy to deal with or accept. Let me handle this.”
Conall nodded. When he had been a lad of around seven winters, his father had returned with a teenage Peter at his side after traveling home from the silver mines. At the time, all had been told Peter was his mother’s kin. The term Uncle had been used by Conall and his siblings given the age difference and as a show of respect. Only years later did they learn the true tale of Peter’s arrival, though none had seen him enter. Given the tales Peter had told in the dark heart of winter, Conall had no issue believing he had come from the mythical land of Arizona.
“Sarah, come back to the keep with us. I promise that you will be safe and that your wound will be taken care of properly. While this is a lot to take in, I’m telling you the truth. You are in the Highlands of Scotland in the year 1314 thanks to the strange door. If I knew a way back, I would have taken it years and years ago.”
Her gaze went between the two men and then to the wooded area surrounding the path. Before his eyes, her skin paled to an unhealthy pallor.
Peter asked her nonsensical questions. “Do you hear any traffic sounds? Any airplanes? Anything that sounds normal to you?”
Her head shook, and she staggered on her feet. Noting late that her feet were bare on the sharp forest floor, Conall only thought of lifting her in his arms to protect her. And never have I wished to hold a woman as I do her.
“That’s because none of those things exist yet. But life here is good and honest. Just like Conall said, we will make a place for you. One where you are safe.” He held out his hand for her to take, but Sarah staggered two steps backward.
“You’re crazy,” she whispered.
“Come on. The dog likes me. Isn’t that what people say? Trust the instincts of small kids and dogs. Have you heard that expression?”
“Yes.” Her faint voice agreed but Conall could read the panic in her eyes.
“Bella, come here, girl.” The dog came readily to his side and her tail wagged when Peter scratched behind her ears. His head to turned back to Sarah. “Bella trusts me and I need you to do the same.” Again, he held out his hand, but without taking a step towards her.
Sarah lifted the hand that had covered where the arrow scratched her hip and beheld the blood on her palm. Conall caught the shake in her legs and saw her eyes roll back in her head. With quick reflexes, he managed to catch her before she collapsed.
Peter chuckled and Conall turned to glare with Sarah in his arms. “How dare you laugh?”
Bella whimpered, and Peter reassured the dog before answering him. “It’s for the best. We can bring her into the keep without her having to answer questions or have her freak out at what she sees. It buys us time to have her come to terms with her new world in private. In case you’ve forgotten, we have a keep full of the Campbell clan and several men from the Bruce, not to mention your intended.”
Staring at Sarah’s peaceful features mixed with the feel of her ample flesh in his hands, Conall couldn’t even picture Elspeth, the Campbell lass he was to marry. Without looking away from her red-tinted lashes, he replied, “Mayhap you are correct. We can cover her odd garments with a blanket from one of the horses. Let us use the tale of an arrow wound making her faint, and as the injury ‘tis my fault, I will take the blame publicly. Such will allow me to ask forgiveness and make restitutions as needed.”
“Good idea,” Peter quickly agreed. “I like the story of Sarah being my family member who came to stay with me. We can make up some crap about her paid escorts leaving her as soon as they found us. I’ll get the horses.”
Conall knew the horses were merely around the bend in the trail. Bella came to his side and he told the beast Sarah would be fine, though he doubted the creature believed him. He had no idea how he could have read the situation so wrong and have shot such a beautiful and enthralling woman who had his skin singing in agreement of her perfection.
As a child he had heard tales of travelers from the mystical doors and had prayed someday he would find one. Thanks to those tales, he grew up wondering if his great love would arrive through one as had happened for several of his ancestors. I would swear I had such a dream many a night.
Conall tightened his grip on her, if only to feel her covered flesh in his hands. Never had anything or anyone ever felt so right in his hold. Shivers crept up his spine and heated his blood, which only strengthened his belief she should be for him.
“How do we get her on a horse?” Peter questioned. Lost in his thoughts, Conall had missed the sounds of his approach. Already, I am lost in her.
Instead of answering, he placed one foot in the stirrup and used his legs to lift them onto the horse. Settling her carefully in his arms and astride the horse, he sighed at the contentment he felt with her against him.
“Come on, Bella.” Peter called to the dog, who ran behind with a bark in reply.
The short ride led him back to the path leading to his gates. Once inside, they would take the unconscious Sarah to a bedchamber, wait for her to awaken and hopefully make her see the truth. It dawned on Conall he would likely never again hold her. He had no idea why the thought made his chest ache with regret. They had only just met and the introduction had not gone well.
The reality of his life weighed down his heart. Instead of a fated love, he had a contracted bride who wouldn’t even meet his gaze, much less speak with him. Conall had no idea who had spoken of Elspeth’s beauty; he saw little. Knowing that the woman in his arms would never be his, he decided Robert was correct and that love must belong only with the bards.
Chapter 3
Jarred by a bump, Sarah nestled her cheek against the warm neck of the man who carried her. Dreams mixed with
a growing consciousness while the sound of his heart kept up a steady, comforting rhythm in her ear. Lifting her limp hand, she traced the contour of rock solid muscle on his shoulder. Practically purring her contentment at his raw masculine scent, she let her foggy thoughts drift and savored the sensation of being lost in him, not knowing why she was in his arms, only delighted she was. Best freaking dream ever.
The heat of the sun abruptly left her skin and she would have sworn she was being carried up a flight of stairs. The scents around her changed from woodsy to those of cooking food, a clean stone fragrance and they mixed with those of the man who managed to carry her less-than-petite self. Reality beckoned but she forced it away. I’m staying right here. Her nose nuzzled his neck and her lips twitched with delight as she heard a sharp male intake of breath. A slight groan vibrated in her ears as she pressed her breasts against his solid chest. I think he likes me.
A woman’s voice echoed in her head. “What has happened? Who is she?”
Sarah buried her face in his neck and gripped his iron shoulder. So not letting go. He’s mine.
From behind, she heard a familiar voice that forced dreams to fade. “There was a hunting accident and she was grazed by an arrow. Fetch what is needed to clean the wound.”
A gasp sounded from the woman and Sarah heard running footsteps trail away from her. Someone was shot by an arrow? Damn. That sucks. And I thought I had a bad day. She asked despite her not really caring, “Who was shot?” While not completely willing to be conscious, she did have some basic emergency skills, thanks to her degree requirements. “I can help.”
The chest pressed against her breasts inhaled and she sighed as his breath moved her body. “Forgive me for hurting you.” His whisper tickled her ear and despite her desire to stay lost, reality smacked her hard.
The Draig's Choice Page 3
