Page 6

Chapter Five

A fter her first night at Dun Talamh, Ava gave Olivia a tour of the main area of the stronghold, and then encouraged her to move into the clan’s guest room.

“I stayed in here myself when I first arrived,” the laird’s wife told her as she showed her the chamber. “It’s nice and quiet.”

Olivia admired the traditional Scottish box-bed that had been left open on one side. Wool blankets and a large hearth warmed the room enough that she was certain she would stay cozy. “Thank you.”

She decided to stay and take a nap, and surprisingly slept through the entire day. After a maid brought her a meal on a tray, Ava came with a night gown she could wear after washing up .

“I don’t know why I’m so tired,” she admitted to the FBI agent, smothering a yawn.

Ava smiled. “You’ve been through a lot, Miz Gibson. Go on back to bed.”

Being in a strange place where she didn’t know anyone should have kept her up all night walking the floors. Instead, Olivia climbed into the bed and settled down into the soft linens, more comfortable than she ever had been in her life.

I’m safe here, was her last thought before she fell into another dreamless sleep.

The clan’s vassals made no sound when they came in the next morning, so Olivia woke to see the fire built back up, and a basin of steaming water in her wash stand. This time the staff had also left two cups and a small pitcher filled with a hot drink that smelled of spices and honey, and tasted almost exactly like an apple tea she liked to drink at home.

Would she ever go back home?

Olivia didn’t have any close friends, and she doubted Charles or his mother would care that she’d vanished. The people she worked with had liked her, however, and would be concerned. Jack and Rebecca would be very worried, too—or had that smelly old man faked her death, just as someone had with Ava Travars?

Once she finished the drink she went to retrieve the clothes she had been wearing when she’d fallen into the trap. She didn’t much like the idea of wearing them now that they didn’t fit her new body, but she had nothing else. Then a knock came at the door, and when she opened it she found Ava standing outside with a bundle of clothing.

“I thought you might like to have some clean things to wear during the day. They might even fit you,” the laird’s wife said. “It’s really just an excuse to see how you’re doing, and if you still want to sleep the day away.”

“No, I’m awake now—and I’m fine, I guess.” She couldn’t really put into words what was going on in her head, and then recalled that the staff had left two cups. Ava must have asked them to do that in anticipation of her visit. “Please, come in.”

A few minutes later they were sitting by the fire and sharing the tea, which Ava said she’d blended herself from dried apples and pears, with lavender and cinnamon.

“I missed coffee so much when I first came here, so I tried to imitate a tea I drank at night. I haven’t given up, though. Our cook Doon and I are working on finding a coffee substitute using what we have at Dun Talamh.” She smiled. “She figures I’m a little touched for wanting a roasted bitter dark brown drink. ”

“Then I shouldn’t ask if she can make the kale smoothie I always drank every morning,” Olivia said, chuckling. “Ah, do I call you Agent Travars, Mrs. McKeran, or Lady Ava?”

“Ava’s just fine,” the other woman assured her. “I’m not an FBI agent anymore, and I never did cotton to the Mistressing and Ladying the folks here use for females.”

She nodded. “Then please call me Olivia. What should I do now that I’m caught up on sleep?”

“I’d be happy to show you around the complex,” the other woman offered. “The spell trap contains the castle, and the two walls around it, but that’s all there is. Everything else you’ll see is an illusion.”

“It’s like being trapped in a giant-size snow globe,” Olivia said, thinking of her dream of standing in front of the barn. That made her ask, “Is there someone in the clan named Rory? He would be a very large, very good-looking man with features something like Alec’s.”

“Yes, he’s our armorer.” Ava frowned. “Did Alec mention him?”

“No, I think...oh, it’s crazy, really. Never mind.” She made a dismissive gesture.

“You dreamed of Rory, didn’t you?” At her astonished look she grimaced. “I’m not a mind reader. The dreams we have here aren’t like what we had in our world. They’re something to do with the magic that keeps the castle separate from reality.”

“Okay, but why would I dream of a man I’ve never met?” Olivia had to ask.

“I can’t tell you, but it’s nothing bad, or so my husband always says,” Ava assured her. “The dreams are what he calls portents, but medieval beliefs aren’t my specialty, so I’m not sure what it means.”

“Portents were signs or warnings that people in the past drew from different sources, like weather events or other natural phenomena,” she told her. “They believed they were warnings from their Gods or the universe about something important or dangerous that was going to happen.”

“Well, that explains it. These folks can be very superstitious.” Wrinkling her nose, she added, “Me, not so much before I came here. Now what seemed like coincidences to me might be more on the deliberate side, especially when it comes to you and me. I believe someone wanted us on the inside of the spell trap, and maybe even orchestrated things so we’d come here.”

Olivia recalled the hit-and-run driver who had nearly killed her boss only a week ago. Had that been part of some plan to make sure she’d come to Dun Talamh alone?

“Let’s say you’re right. Why would someone want an FBI agent and an expert on historical reconstructions to come to Dun Talamh?” Olivia thought for a moment before she shook her head. “It just doesn’t add up on my end. Renard Beaumont called the company I worked for and asked for someone to perform the survey for the storm damages. He didn’t specify me by name, and there are four other surveyors... ” She stopped and caught her breath.

“Only?” Ava asked, intent.

“Only none of them were available to come to the castle when Beaumont wanted.” Olivia let out a breath. “My boss got hurt in an accident last week, so he had to send me by myself.”

“I was between partners when I flew out here from Dallas to investigate a couple that disappeared, so I came to Dun Talamh alone, too.” Her dark eyes narrowed. “I wonder if Beaumont did some advance investigating of his own.”

“Unless we can escape back to our world, we’ll never know.” Olivia looked all around her, grateful and annoyed at the same time. “It’s frustrating.”

“You never know. In time we might just figure it out.” Ava stood. “I’ll leave you to change. Would you like me to come back and walk you down to the great hall?”

“I remember how to get there, but thanks,” she said quickly. “I’d really like to look around the castle a bit before breakfast, if that’s okay?”

“Absolutely—and if you get lost, just ask one of the guards to point you in the right direction,” the laird’s wife said, and then left.

Olivia went through the pile of clothes Ava had brought, and found a gown made of light pink wool with a bodice that laced up the front. It fit her almost perfectly. When she sat down on the chair by the hearth and hiked up the skirt to step into the split ruins of her work shoes, her formerly stubby little legs looked so long and shapely she was stunned.

Those were her legs?

She stared at her curvy limbs, hardly daring to touch them. Her calves were straight now, and she had long, attractive thighs with toned muscles, as if she were a swimmer or runner. Even her once knobby knees looked nice, and her new, longer feet were actually pretty. She inspected her legs for so long she didn’t hear the door until it closed and looked up to see Alec also staring.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” She stood up, and then lost her balance.

Somehow he got to her and caught her before she fell and turned to sit in the chair and put her on his lap. “Careful, lass. ’Tis something amiss with your skirts? ”

“My legs. They look like I stole them from a show girl.” Her face grew hot as he tugged up her gown to bare them. “Sorry, it’s just a bad joke. There’s nothing wrong with them.”

“I see naught to jest over, lass.” He put one hand on her shin and slid his palm up and over her knee. “They’re quite pretty.” When she caught her breath he studied her face, and then tugged her gown back down to cover her. “Forgive me. I should ever ask your leave before I touch you. Aye, and knock on your door before I enter the chamber.”

You can touch me whenever and wherever you want, Olivia thought.

Out loud she said, “It would probably be a good idea to give me some forewarning. Next time I might be changing my clothes.” Putting a hand on his shoulder, she eased off his lap and stood. “Was there something you needed from me, War Master?”

“Only my men call me thus.” Alec frowned a little. “Do I make you uneasy, lass?”

“Yes. No. I’m, ah, a little nervous around you.” Could she have said it worse? “I mean, I’m nervous around all men, really.”

He stood and came close to her, his expression darkening. “Why? Did that old man do more than stomp on your hands, and kick your face? Did he do worse? ”

“Oh, no, no. It’s because I didn’t get out much during the first seventeen years of my life.” She didn’t want to talk about her awful childhood, so she said, “Being around people is always going to seem a little strange to me.”

“Someone locked you away,” Alec said, his mouth so tight now that his lips looked white.

“Yes, but I’d really rather not talk–” Before she could finish her sentence he snatched her into his arms and held her tightly. “Alec?”

“Forgive me,” he said against her hair, his voice sounding thick and strange. “I need hold you. Permit me.”

“Of course, you can.” She put her hands on his back, which should have seemed awkward but instead made her relax against him. She knew she was safe with him, that she could trust him—and that would never change, she suspected.

“Your pardon, my lady.” He stepped back and brought her hands to his lips. Before he kissed them, however, his mouth twisted as if he were disgusted. He released her to hurry out of the room.

R ory watched Alec dash down the passage as if the stronghold were under attack. The war master left in his wake his own mossy scent, blended strangely with the perfume of newly bloomed lilies. When the newcomer female stepped out into the hall to stare after the war master, Rory drew back into the shadows, unwilling to disturb her again. Sharing her dream had been a reckless, foolish act, but after seeing the way Alec had been with her he hadn’t been able to resist the temptation to see the sort of woman who had broken through the inner fortress of his suspicions.

He had to stop interfering. If he could no longer trust himself to hold to his vows, then he would become that which he had always feared.

Once the outsider went back into the chamber and closed the door, Rory walked down the passage and tracked Alec to the garrison hall. From the expressions of the men hurrying out of the map room, the war master’s mood had turned foul, which meant he had also recognized how the new arrival mirrored him. Alec had kept his wounds from the past so secret that no one ever thought to ask him about what he had suffered as a lad. When Rory grew lonely at night, he often shared his brothers’ dreams, always keeping his presence concealed from them. Yet after sharing Alec’s once, he never went back to try again.

Alec only ever had nightmares about his wretched life on his grandsire’s farm.

“Fair day, Armorer.” Kelso came out of the passage and winced as he heard the slightly muffled sound of wood cracking. “Mayhap you should seek out our war master later, after his head’s had time to cool.”

Kelso had a fresh bruise on his chin that had begun to fade. He also had no memory of what was to come for him with the new moon, and Rory could not tell him. Explaining why he had come in search of Alec would mean revealing too much of what he knew as well, so he nodded and accompanied the guard back to the stronghold.

Since Kelso liked to talk about the newcomers, he asked in a whisper, “Did you see the new arrival?"

“Aye.” The guard grinned. “She seems a sweet lass, and quite fetching. Her hair near reaches her waist, and ’tis the color of chestnuts roasting in a hearth.”

He went on to describe Olivia Gibson in detail for him, even shaping the air with his hands to demonstrate her curves. Despite his enthusiasm, Rory noticed how his gaze searched ahead and around every corner they passed .

“Do you look for someone now?” he murmured when Kelso ran out of words.

The guard grimaced. “I hoped to speak with my lover. ’Tis something amiss with her.”

Rory knew exactly what was plaguing Elspeth. He had witnessed from a dream he’d shared with her that she had given herself to the two mortal men she most desired. “Mayhap you should simply give her all of your affection now.”

“I do.” Kelso gave him a narrow look. “Do you ken something I dinnae, Armorer?”

To answer that with truth would only drive him to madness, so he shrugged. “That lass ’tis as kind and giving as the best of ladies. You’re a fortunate lad.”

“Aye, and half in love with her.” The guard sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Much as I wish to hold back my heart, I cannae altogether. She’ll ever own a piece of me.”

Again, he wished he could speak the truth, and tell Kelso that in three seasons he would have no memory of Elspeth or their dalliance. If he did, the guard would ask how he had learned such things, and why he would forget the chambermaid. It would be better, Rory thought, to have a word with the lass herself.

Elspeth needed to share pleasures with someone other than a man forever doomed .

He parted ways with Kelso with a whispered farewell and went into the kitchens, where Doon had all the kitchen maids busy cleaning and sorting root veg. Sculleries trotted back and forth with buckets of fresh water for the soaking basins and rinsing sinks. In the hearth some water with bundles of herbs and cut up veg bubbled in a huge cauldron, adding a rich scent of wild garlic, onions and kale to the air.

“Una, dinnae trim so much of the stalk from those leeks. Sorcha, bring up another basket of turnips. The laird and his lady both desire my veg pottage for the evening meal, which means the whole lot of them shall ask for it.” The cook emptied a pot of strange-looking brown lumps onto her worktable. “If you’re hungry, Armorer, there’s meat and fruit left from the morning meal in the cold pantry.”

Doon had never regarded him or treated him any different than his brothers, which Rory always appreciated.

“My thanks, Mistress.” He eyed the odd lumps she was rinsing in a bowl of clean water. “What call you those?”

“Some manner of root veg from seeds Healer grew from the bird jobby he collects. ’Tis a nasty habit, but now and again we do get some new foods from such.” Doon held up one of the lumps and sniffed with disapproval. “I dinnae ken this ’twill prove worth the trouble. Took near on five seasons to get a wee crop, and he took half to cutup as seed for the next.” She frowned. “Pototoes? Patataes? Och, I cannae recall the name. What troubles you, lad, that you’d linger and listen to me molligrant?”

Although the cook was his favorite vassal, he would not burden her with his troubles. “I like your grumbling.” Although he didn’t expect her to laugh, he noticed the dark circles under her eyes and the drawn look to her mouth. “Mayhap another scullery might ease your burdens with such.”

“’Tisnae rinsing veg that tires me,” she said, setting the lumps aside. “’Tis no’ having sleep.” He raised an eyebrow at her as she dried her hands on her apron. “’Tis dreams of the red-haired wench that plague me since the clan was cursed.”

Rory went still. “A lass with red hair?”

The cook waved a hand in front of her face. “Enough of my foolishness.” Her sharp eyes shifted to his. “Milady sent me up with brew this morn. That newcomer lass sleeps like a weary bairn. The gossipers claim our war master kept her in his bed the first night. Never once did he that with any other.”

“He desires to protect her,” he couldn’t help saying .

“Good. ’Tis high time that stone heart of his cracked.” She nudged him with an elbow. “Stop fretting, lad. In time your brother shall follow the path the Gods set before him, no matter how badly you or I wish to give him a good, hard shove.”

Rory leaned over and kissed her gaunt cheek. “My thanks, Doon.”

“Charmer.” She gave him one of her rare smiles. “Get on with you.”

O ver the next week Olivia found life at Dun Talamh to be both fascinating and reassuring. Thanks to her time in France, she knew how to live comfortably in twelfth century style, and adapted quickly to the more primitive conditions in the spell trap. Other outsiders she had met had repeatedly warned her about the total lack of modern conveniences, but she honestly didn’t miss them. Wearing gowns, using a wash stand, warming herself by a hearth and waking with the sunless yellow-green light of dawn seemed to make her grow lighter and happier every day.

The best part was that she didn’t have to leave. She could stay and live in the castle forever, eating whatever she liked, in a body that made her look just like other women. It was as if all her wistful dreams had come true.

After being given permission to explore the stronghold, she spent a great deal of her time doing just that; it took her nearly a week to tour most of the complex. Everyone proved very kind, although some of the maids didn’t seem so happy to see her speaking with the male vassals. A few even muttered some unkind things about her within her hearing, which worried Olivia. She finally went to talk to Inga Holm, the clan’s chatelaine, as she was in charge of all the maids.

“I’m afraid it’s pure, petty jealousy,” the lovely blonde woman told her as she arranged some cut flowers in a pottery vase. “The yearly binding ceremony will be held in a few weeks, and nearly all the girls have already picked out the new men they want to marry. If one of them prefers you, it means they have to make another choice, or offer themselves to our clansmen.”

Olivia instantly imagined asking Alec to be her lover, and her face blazed so hot she ducked her head to hide it. “Please let the girls know that I’m not planning to marry or offer myself to anyone. Oh.” She looked down at the vase of flowers Inga had handed her. “Do you need me to take these somewhere?”

The chatelaine smiled. “They’re for your room. The castle has adequate ventilation, but I find the sight as well as the scent of flowers help brighten my mood.”

She did look a little sad, so Olivia decided to change the subject. “I wonder, is there anything I can do to help out in the gardens? I do love working outdoors.”

“You should speak with the head gardener about that,” Inga said. “You should also give yourself a little more time to adjust. No one expects you to adapt to a twelfth-century lifestyle and start working overnight.”

Olivia thought of her aunt, whose expectations had been almost impossible to meet. “Thank you.”

The only place she wasn’t permitted to go was the garrison hall, which Ava explained was off-limits to women. Because the men of the clan had their private quarters there, females could only enter by invitation after dark, and had to be escorted by the clansmen they wanted to visit.

“Generally, the gals go there for one reason only: so they don’t have to sleep alone,” the laird’s wife said over breakfast one morning. “About half of our female population do prefer clansmen as lovers because there aren’t any strings attached. Of course, our ladies do the choosing, and regularly switch partners. ”

Olivia had already noticed the imbalance of males to females. Since the stronghold had been imprisoned for nearly a thousand years, the culture must have evolved in order to compensate. There was one question that she wanted to ask, but it seemed rude. Then something else occurred to her.

“Will I be required in the future to take a lover or marry someone?” she asked.

“Absolutely not,” Ava said. “If you’d like to have a lover or husband, I’m sure the boys would line up for you. That said, several men and women here for their own reasons have chosen to abstain from all relationships or liaisons.”

“Which we don’t have to talk about if we want to keep that private,” Ben said as he came to sit with them. “I haven’t taken any lovers yet.”

“There you go.” The laird’s wife gestured at him. “Our chief abstainer.”

Olivia turned to him. “Don’t you get lonely, Doctor?”

“Oh, of course I do—and please, call me Ben.” He smiled at her. “Being trapped together in a world we can never escape can be stressful, but you don’t have to be alone unless you want to, Ms. Gibson. There’s always friendship, too. If you ever want platonic company, come find me. I can get you in all kinds of trouble. ”

She really liked Ben, who in a strange way reminded her of Jack Riley. “Would you mind calling me Gibs? It was my nickname at work.”

“You got it, Gibs.” He offered her an oat cake covered with a brown spread. “Want to try my latest attempt at apple butter?”

Olivia sampled the concoction, which needed a little more apple and less honey in her opinion, and then listened as Ben described his determination to recreate all his favorite foods from their time. She also enjoyed the clan’s dishes a great deal. Although only two meals were served each day in the morning and evening, they had turned out to be so substantial she didn’t grow hungry at all during the afternoon or at night.

“You are doing much better than I did during my first week,” Ava said as they helped the maids clear the tables after the last of the clan had dined. “I knew this was all real, but I still hoped I’d wake up and it would all be a bad dream.”

“Is it really all that terrible?” Olivia asked and saw the look the other woman gave her. “Of course, I’d like to go back to our time, but here we can live forever. It’s kind of hard to give up the chance to be immortal.”

The fact that she had this new body here didn’t hurt, either .

“If you had to spend forever in one place, not by choice, and relive the same events over and over, you might find it gets a bit tedious.” The laird’s wife stacked some bowls. “Only here it’s downright scary, especially when the MacBren shows up with his thugs. Those giant caterpillars someone sent in to attack us weren’t much fun, either. By the way, if you ever hear a horn blow, come to the great hall immediately. That’s where we gather all the ladies before we hide them from our enemies.”

She hadn’t considered that there might be danger waiting for her. “I will.”

“There are also the families that folks have left behind in the real world. Inga, our chatelaine, had a husband and young daughter back in our time. That was seventy-odd years ago, so her man is probably gone now. If she’s still around, her little girl is in her fifties, and never knew what happened to her mama.” She gave Olivia a curious look. “Did you leave some family behind in our time?”

“None that I know of,” she said, which was the truth. “I’m an only child, and I’ve been on my own since I was seventeen.”

“You were younger than me.” Ava’s smile vanished. “I don’t have any folks, either. I left home when I was eighteen, and my folks died shortly after that in a fire. ”

“I’m sorry.” Olivia sensed it was not a topic she wanted to discuss. “After we finish here, could I borrow some other clothes?”