The Key to His Castle: A Clean Time Travel Romance (Clan MacGregor Book 5)

by Blanche Dabney

  Who else? Maybe one of the servants thinking she pushed them too hard.

  There was always the possiblity that someone from the outlaw camp had infiltrated the castle. Should he go out and check the defenses? Make sure no one had cut the drawbridge rope or raised the portcullis gate to let them inside without a fight?

  He dismissed the idea. His men knew what they were doing. They would keep good watch. And there was only one place he wanted to be. That was by Heather, making sure she was safe until the sun rose tomorrow morning.

  When he fell asleep he dreamed of the siege, that it lasted a lifetime. He grew old and so did Heather, her blaming him for a miserable life stuck inside castle walls for all their lives, the clan starving to death around them. “You caused this,” she said, pointing a bony finger at him. She looked like the old crone all of a sudden. “You ruined my life.”

  He woke up sweating despite the chill of the room, the image of her accusation fresh in his mind. He did not sleep for the rest of the night.

  11

  The next few days all began and ended the same way. Heather laid in bed wondering if she’d made the right decision, Gavin sat with his back against the door, protecting her from whatever lurked outside.

  There had been no more murders. That at least was something. The culprit had yet to be caught but no one else had suffered, apart from Susanne’s family.

  They were hardly able to grieve knowing the killer of their sister, their friend, was still out there. Gavin seemed under no doubt that soon enough they would find out who did it but Heather was not so sure.

  Each day she told herself she would go home to her own time. She hadn’t been able to do it. She told herself it was to help with finding Susanne’s killer and that was part of it. Another part of it whispered to her each night when she swore once again she would leave.

  Going would mean never seeing Gavin again. She hadn’t talked to him about the kiss. He had spent little time with her during the day. He had been busy with the siege and handling their slowly dwindling supplies.

  She only left the bedchamber when he was free to accompany her. The only time she was on her own in the castle was when she was making her way to or from the bedchamber.

  Having the key meant she could lock herself in whenever she felt unsafe which was often. Having that security helped keep her in the past, calming her enough to help her overcome her fears of the time.

  The initial suspicion surrounding her seemed to have died away, no doubt helped by the need for the men of the clan to focus on repelling attacks.

  There had only been one attack so far and although Heather found it terrifying, the rest of the castle seemed to have shaken it off like a mild cold. She marvelled at their ability to cope with things that would send her sobbing and screaming into therapy.

  The attack had come five days into the siege. Heather woke to the sound of bells ringing just before dawn.

  “Stay here,” Gavin said, on his feet at once as she sat up in bed.

  He left and she waited, listening at her window to the sound of angry voices in the distance. From her room she could just see the battlements and the mountains beyond but not what was happening below the exterior castle walls.

  On the battlements men were firing their bows in quick succession, barely visible in the half light of dawn. Gavin was marching behind them, giving orders, ducking as something flew over the walls. She flinched as a lump of rock slammed into the side of the keep, making the floor shudder.

  She felt terrified, her hand going to the silver key at once. Was she going to have to run back to her own time? Was the castle about to be overrun? Could she simply abandon them to their fate?

  Almost as soon as she began to wonder if she could cope with the stress, it was over. The men on the battlements were cheering, waving and taunting outlaws who were out of sight from her viewpoint.

  Gavin told her what had happened when he returned to her room, collapsing into a chair and wiping sweat from his eyes.

  “They tried to storm the walls but dared not send their full force as a good commander would. They sent a first wave to get the ladders up while a trebuchet fired behind them.”

  “Was that the rock that hit the keep?”

  “A good trebuchet takes a month to build,” Gavin said. “Theirs collapsed on the first use. The men with the ladders were taken out by my archers before they made it a hundred yards from their lines. The rest retreated in defeat, leaving the ladders behind. I sent a couple of flaming arrows to help them turn to ashes.”

  “What happens now?”

  “They lick their wounds and wonder what went wrong.”

  “Will they attack again?”

  “If they do, let us pray they are as disorganized as this time.”

  It had been more than a week since that initial skirmish and there hadn’t been a peep from the outlaws. According to Gavin, they just sat out there, laughing and drinking and doing little else.

  Meanwhile supplies inside the castle continued to dwindle. How long could they last? She had asked Gavin but he just shrugged his shoulders and told her not to worry. She might have thought him uncaring for the way he spoke to her but each night her mind was calmed.

  She slept with Gavin guarding her. Every single night he slept in her chamber, each time telling her it would be the last. One night she woke up and saw him with his eyes closed. She sat looking at him for a long time until she fell asleep again. Could she leave him? Could she steal the knife and betray him?

  She had never thought she might stay here this long. She anticipated being home by now, his knife in her hand, her past and her family’s past all having changed for the better.

  Instead, she had found herself enjoying Gavin’s company more and more. They talked about everything and nothing in the evenings before she settled to sleep.

  “Tell me about your childhood,” she said one night.

  He told her all about it, learning exactly what the life of a laird entailed. Her favorite story was the one about his sailing trip.

  She’d just told him how clever he must be, running a clan this size.

  “You would not think that if you saw me when I was younger,” he replied. “I made many mistakes.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like when I was thirteen,” he said with a smile. “I was sailing out of the harbor on the north side of Black Island when this seal decided to try and play with my boat and what did I do? I leaned over to bat him away. Ended up in the water with the hull upside down above me and a sail wrapped around my legs.”

  “Oh no. What did you do?”

  “Nothing. I almost drowned. It was Bruce who pulled me out. Told me next time never to lean too far in search of the unknown but to concentrate on steering the right course.”

  “Good advice.”

  Each night she found out more about him. He told her how he’d got the scar on his right arm. “What do you think that’s from?” he asked, running his finger along the length of the scar.

  “I don’t know. Some battle?”

  “Hardly. I was up a tree spying on a Frazer servant girl who was apple picking.”

  “You peeping Tom!”

  “It wasnae like that. I was waiting for her to go so I could steal some of the apples. It was a test, one all MacGregors undergo if they wish to be truly part of the clan. You must bring back a golden Frazer apple from their orchard.”

  “So, did you bring one back?”

  “Aye, I picked it up off the ground after she threw one at me when she spotted me watching. But enough about me, what about you?”

  She told him as little as she could get away with. It hurt to keep secrets from him but she didn’t want to lie about who she really was.

  She found it easier to keep her cards close to her chest. “I have little to tell. I come from a poor family far away from here. That’s all, really.”

  “Really?”

  Each night she maintained the same position but each night it got har
der and harder as he shared more about himself.

  A fortnight after that first night in the castle, she had come closest she ever had to telling him the truth. He had come into her room, his head hanging down.

  “What’s happened?” she asked as he sank into his usual chair. “You look exhausted.”

  “They spent all day feigning attack but then retreating. Then as the sun set I found out they were trying to break down the sallyport door. It was only the poison thorns that sent them into retreat. At some point they’ll think to burn them and then we are in real trouble.”

  “That’s not all, is it?”

  “Mungo Frazer has joined their camp with his men. They are getting more organized.”

  “How can you tell?”

  “The way the camp is laid out. The laughter has stopped, the fires are gone. They move in the dark so I cannot track their numbers nor where they all are. I have no doubt the old crone is there somewhere though she remains hidden.” He rubbed his eyes with his hands, looking defeated for the first time since she’d met him. “Will we ever know peace in the highlands?”

  “You will,” she said, taking his hands in hers. “Peace will come and when it does it will last a long time.”

  “You can’t know that.”

  “Trust me. There will come a day when all wars cease in this country, when crossing the border will be as easy as walking out of your front door.”

  “You sound so sure.”

  “I am certain.”

  “But how can you possibly ken such a thing.”

  “I just…” She stopped, on the verge of telling him the truth. She couldn’t do it. He would never understand, more likely he would have her burned as a witch. “I just really believe it.”

  He looked at her strangely, as if he was about to say something.

  She changed the subject. “Do you not want to spend a night in your own bed?”

  “Protecting his people is what a laird should do.”

  “Are you not neglecting them in being here with me?”

  “While you are under my roof you are a MacGregor, as worthy of my protection as any other MacGregor, even if you are a Frazer.”

  “And I’ve not yet fetched a golden apple from the Frazer orchard.”

  He went over to his usual place by the door, leaning back and closing his eyes. “Good night, Heather,” he said quietly.

  She went to bed hardly able to bear the guilt of concealing the truth from him, telling herself it was for the best. The truth would either scare or confuse him and she wanted to do neither of those things.

  She woke up on Sunday morning and before she’d even opened her eyes she knew at once something was different. He was not sitting at the foot of the door. He was gone.

  No doubt he’d had enough of mollycoddling her every night. She had asked him to stay to protect her from the clan but as the days passed they showed no signs of suspecting her anymore.

  She no longer feared the clan. She feared spending a night without him in her room. Just him being there made her feel safe. It was a feeling deep inside her that she had never known before. She needed him in a way she couldn’t describe to anyone.

  She told herself she should get used to waking up alone. He wasn’t going to be there to protect her when she went home.

  Home. A wave of guilt washed over her.

  It was hard to reconcile how she felt. It was as if the modern world had become nothing more than a shadow since she’d come back in time, helped by the fact she could tell herself it didn’t even exist yet.

  That was an excuse and she knew it. She sat up in bed and made a vow. She must resist her feelings toward the laird, no matter how strongly she felt them. She must think of the knife, of how best to steal it and then just return home.

  What happened in the siege had nothing to do with her. She had a job to do and that was it. Sure, it had been complicated by Gavin but she wasn’t a lust filled teenager.

  She could handle having a crush on someone and get over it. That was all it was. A heartbreakingly painful and obsessive crush with someone she yearned to kiss again. Nothing else. Just a crush.

  The door opened and Gavin appeared, carrying in hot wine and a loaf of bread on a tray. Beside it was a couple of apples. “Not golden Frazer ones but they’ll do,” he said, passing her the tray. “You have slept long. It is almost time for mass. Eat quickly.”

  Heather bit into one of the apples, surprised by just how sweet it tasted.

  “Good?” Gavin asked, taking one for himself.

  “So good,” she replied, wiping juice from her chin. “What time is it?”

  “Time to go. Come on.”

  She followed him downstairs, finishing the apple as she went. He took the core from her when they reached the churchyard, flinging it over the battlements toward the besieging army. “They’ll wonder what that means all day long,” he said, smiling as he opened the door to the chapel.

  The interior was crammed with people. “Who’s that?” Heather asked, pointing to a man hanging from the rafters at the front of the chapel.

  “Charles. Dinnae worry. You’ll get used to him.”

  Charles hooked his legs under the rafters and swung his arms up, spinning through the air and coming to land behind the altar to a round of applause. “God is watching,” Charles said, holding his arms up for silence. “I thought I’d do something to impress him.”

  A ripple of laughter spread around the room although Heather also heard some of the older clan members muttering darkly.

  “I do not mock God,” Charles said, as if in response to the muttering. “I am on good terms with him. We speak regularly and he tells me many things.”

  “Like what?” someone shouted from the crowd.

  “That it is time for the sermon. Today I wish to speak to you about the parting of the waves.”

  As Charles read from the Bible, Heather noticed Gavin was talking in a low voice to a man she didn’t recognize. “Now is not the time, Keir” Gavin was whispering. “Can it not wait until after mass?”

  Keir shook his head. “My laird, I beg you. Little Natalie needs more.”

  “Why did you not tell me this before now?”

  “The remaining stock disappeared overnight. All I ask is for permission to gather a little extra.”

  “Very well. The sallyport will not remain open long. Be back quick or you shall not get back into the castle.”

  “Of course, my laird.”

  Keir ducked out of the church. Gavin turned his eyes back to Charles who was continuing to read from the Bible.

  “What was that about?” Heather asked.

  “Nothing.” He kept his eyes fixed on the priest.

  To her left, Bruce leaned down to whisper in her ear. “We need more lemon balm for a patient in the infirmary. Keir is going to fetch more from the wood outside the castle.”

  “What does lemon balm do?”

  “It helps heal wounds.”

  “Who’s Natalie?”

  Susanne’s favorite. She was playing in the stores when she fell from the top of the barrels and badly cut her arm.”

  “Attend to the service!” Gavin snapped.

  Heather looked to the front, her nostrils wrinkling. There was something odd about all this but she could not put her finger on what it was at first. Then she realized. She tried to get Gavin’s attention but more people had squeezed into the chapel and there was no longer any way of reaching him.

  The service ended moments later and then several people approached Gavin at once. “Do not wait for me,” he called across to Heather. “Return to your chamber. Bruce, accompany her.”

  Turning, she filed out with the others into the courtyard. Keir was almost at the back wall and she was about to head for the keep when she sniffed again, wondering if she’d imagined it.

  No, there it was again. A scent of lemons. Just as she smelled in the corridor before Susanne was killed. Keir was crossing the courtyard toward the right hand side of th
e keep, chickens scattering before him.

  “Bruce!” a voice called from the battlements. “They have more ladders being prepared. Come, quick.”

  Bruce spat on the ground, turning to Heather. “Can you make your own way to the keep?”

  “Of course but there’s something-”

  “Bruce! Arrows incoming.”

  “Go,” she said, watching as Bruce ran up the steps, calling for the men to raise their shields.

  “Brace yourself!” he called down to the courtyard as people began to run for cover.

  She ran too, finding herself by the wall of the keep. There it was again. The smell of lemons. Was this a distraction so Keir could open the sallyport and let the outlaws in? No, he had run with the others. What did that mean for Natalie? Would she die without the lemon balm?

  She broke into a run, reaching the sallyport a moment later. It had not yet been locked. She peered around the edge of the door, expecting to find an army of bloodthirsty highlanders there. Instead, she saw nothing. Had she got it wrong?

  You can do this, a voice said in her head. She thought about ignoring it, feeling for the silver key in the small bag she kept hidden in the folds of her dress. The feel of the key reassured her. She could leave anytime. She was in no danger.

  Ducking through the sallyport, she pulled the door closed. Twisting through the thorns, she tried not to think about the poison dripping from the cruelly sharp tips almost touching her head.

  Once out into the open she breathed a sigh of relief. She paused for a moment, removing her white coif. It would be too visible in the open.

  There was the wood on the right, away from the besieging army. She ran across the grass, reaching the wood a minute later. Almost at once she smelled lemons.

  Looking down she realized she was standing in the midst of an old herb garden. Kneeling she crushed a leaf with her finger. Lemon balm just as Natalie needed for her wound. She picked a bunch and was about to turn around when she heard voices in front of her.