Page 5 of All The Time You Need (Magic of Time #1)

“She blusters loudly for a woman with no weapon. Unless…I canna imagine that she thought to frighten us away with sticks and rocks, can you?” Finn asked incredulously from Alex’s side. “There’s little enough to fear if all she’s going to do is entertain Dog by pitching sticks to him.”

“It would appear that was, indeed, her intent,” Alex answered, breaking into a trot when the stone held by the woman in question fell from her limp hand and she slumped to the ground. “Damnation!”

In spite of her lack of weaponry, she’d impressed him with her courage, even if she might well be a danger to all of them. Her concern as he and Finn had approached had been not for herself, but for Lissa’s safety. Had he and Finn been Gordon warriors seeking vengeance against the MacKillicans, it could well have meant a nasty end for both women.

Unless she had nothing to fear because she played a part in a clever Gordon trap.

“Keep a sharp eye,” he called over his shoulder.

He couldn’t ignore the possibility. He also couldn’t ignore the possibility that she was merely a victim. As such, regardless of any danger to herself, not only had she given her best in defense of his sister, now it seemed as though she might have given her all.

“You see?” Lissa chirped from her perch dangling above the ground. “You’ll be getting no apologies from me this day, though I’ll be expecting one from you, brother. It’s exactly as I tried to tell you. Exactly as Grandda’s stories foretold. I found her here this morning, crumpled against the stone seat. Surely now you can see why I sought yer help. Her being trapped in there is why I needed the key.”

The key. He’d almost forgotten.

“Give it to me,” he demanded, more harshly than necessary and, for a fact, much more harshly than he’d intended.

He wanted to believe it was no more than irritation at his sister’s resurrection of the old stories that fouled his temper. Or even that his concern over what might have happened to her when she’d ignored his orders played a role in coloring his tone. But that would be only a part of the reason. The guilt eating at his soul was a larger source of his anger than anything else. A guilt compounded as he scanned for any sign of movement from the woman collapsed on the ground.

He shouldn’t have dismissed Lissa’s plea without having listened to all of what she had to tell him.

“Get me down from here, you great oaf, and the key is yers,” his sister responded, her words holding no hint of the accusation she had every right to voice.

He deserved it all and more. Yes, he was angry with her, but even angrier with himself. Some pitiful excuse for an all-knowing laird he was turning out to be.

Alex stepped onto the bench and lifted his sister up and away from the iron post that held her captive.

“The key,” he said again, taking care to gentle his tone as he passed her down to Finn’s uplifted arms.

As soon as her feet touched the ground, Lissa reached inside her shift, pulled out the key and handed it up to her brother. “Hurry, Alex. She’s hurt, and I’ve no idea of how bad it might be.”

With a flick of his wrist, he had the lock opened and off the ring, freeing the heavy gate. Even as he jumped down, Lissa swung the gate wide, falling to her knees beside the prone body of the woman.

“Annie? Can you hear me?”

Annie. It would appear that his sister had spoken to her long enough to learn her name.

Lissa brushed back the loose strands of hair from the woman’s face, revealing a nasty purple swelling on her cheek. Whoever had locked her in the arbor had treated her with unbridled force in the process.

An odd protective need rose up in Alex’s chest. A need to find the bastard responsible for marking this woman, this Annie, as his sister called her, and gift him with a few matching marks of his own.

“How came she to be here?”

“A good question, that. And one that requires a truthful answer in the fullness of time,” Finn said quietly from behind him. “But no' now. And definitely no' here. I’d recommend that we hasten these women back inside the walls. It’s a good possibility that the forest has eyes. Though whether those eyes travel upon two legs or four, I canna say.”

Alex looked in the direction of his friend’s gaze to see Dog standing at attention, ears alert, transfixed as if he’d just located a prey he sought. Looking down at the harm done to this woman, Alex’s first instinct was to have Finn turn the animal loose and follow him to his destination. But it wasn’t just the two of them he needed to consider. It was the safety of his only sister and the woman. This Annie.

“As you say,” he muttered, dropping to one knee and scooping Annie up into his arms. Two likely scenarios warred in his thoughts as he straightened, delaying his steps. The first was that this stranger might well be little more than bait in a trap. A trap designed to lure in those whose safety he was pledged to protect. The second scenario was equally chilling. He could well hold in his arms a spy, sent to infiltrate the walls his enemies were unable to breach.

“It would be foolish on our part to spend any more time here in the open. Dog,” Finn called, and the animal came immediately to his side, though the hair on his back remained raised.

With Finn on one side of Lissa, his sword at the ready, and Dog moving to guard her other side, Alex led the way back through the forest, all of them rushing their steps until they were back inside the protective walls of Dunellen. Alex paused only long enough to issue orders that the portcullis should be lowered.

“Take her up to my chamber,” Lissa instructed. “I’m going to find Aggie to see to her.”

“Go with her,” Alex instructed Finn over his shoulder before continuing up the stairs as his sister had asked.

Considering that the clan’s healer had been old long before Alex had been born, Lissa might need Finn’s help to get Agneys into the castle and up to the third floor. The old crone had a wicked reputation for stubbornness, but he had no doubt Finn would return with her, even if it meant carrying her kicking and cursing the entire way.

With one powerful shove, Alex sent the massive wooden door to his sister’s chamber swinging open to bang back against the wall. He crossed the room and gently laid Annie in the middle of the bed before stepping back to study his unexpected guest.

Though he wasn’t one to accept the outlandish stories his grandfather Aiden had invented for the entertainment of his grandchildren—and any others who would listen—he couldn’t blame his twin for thinking this woman had appeared straight out of one of those stories. She was an odd one, truth be told.

From the soft curls of her light-brown hair, which would reach no longer than middle of her back at best guess, to the strange cut and cloth of her garments, he’d not seen her like before. Not even during his time in Edinburgh, and he’d seen all manner of women there, from those who thought themselves royalty to those who made their living lying upon their backs.

Annie was like none of them.

The clothing she wore must be undergarments of some kind, though he’d certainly never seen a match for either their softness or for the colors in that flowered skirt she wore. As it barely reached the middle of her lower leg, he could only surmise that whoever had ill-treated her must also have taken part of her clothing. Or perhaps they’d removed her from the shelter of her chambers without allowing her time to dress.

Again that odd need to protect her blossomed in his chest, and he slowly moved closer to the bed, a man drawn irresistibly forward, like a summer midge drawn to the scent of warm blood.

Her face was delicately beautiful, with finely chiseled features, marred only by the discolored swelling on her cheek. He resisted the temptation to run a finger over her furrowed brow, forcing his hands instead to busy themselves with drawing a light blanket over her long, bared legs. No sense in exposing her to any more indignities than she’d already suffered.

A bowl of tepid water sat next to his sister’s bed, and he searched the room for any manner of cloth he might use as a compress. He found what he wanted folded into a corner of the chest at the foot of Lissa’s bed, and hurried to dip it into the water. With the cool cloth wrung out, he leaned in close and set it on the angry swelling.

As if the movement had summoned her back from wherever she’d been hiding, Annie’s eyelids fluttered open to reveal the deepest blue eyes he’d ever seen. Like pools in a bottomless loch, they called to him.

Or perhaps not to him…

“Peter?” she whispered, and then, like tapestries sliding down a wall, her eyelids dropped, spreading thick, dark lashes against soft, creamy skin.

The interaction lasted only a fraction of a moment, but it left him rattled. He wanted her to awaken again so that he might satisfy his need to know more about her. Who was she? Where had she come from? And, most of all, who the hell was Peter?

* * *

There was something Annie needed to do. Something terribly important she’d left undone, nagging relentlessly at the back of her mind. But remembering what it was or how to find her way back to it simply seemed beyond her abilities. It felt as if she were at the bottom of a very deep well. Or maybe a tunnel. That was it. A tunnel. A very long tunnel, very far away from that tiny pinprick of light beckoning in the distance. A light? Yes! If she could just make it to that light, she stood a chance of escaping from this place.

That important something she’d forgotten continued to worry her as she fought her way forward, nipping at her heels, driving her, urging her on.

Did it have something to do with her family? That must be it. Surely only a family responsibility could hang so heavily around her neck.

With a mighty effort, she managed one last burst toward the light, a cold rush tingling on her face as she struggled to open her eyes.

She lay on her back, a blurry figure hovering over her. A man, she could tell. And a large man at that. But she knew no man who would be this close to her. Well, none except the one she wanted most to escape…

“Peter?”

In the instant after she spoke his name, her vision cleared and she recognized her mistake. This was certainly not Peter. It wasn’t anyone she’d ever seen before.

Except she had seen this ruggedly handsome man before.

Again the invisible fingers from the tunnel reached up to grab hold of her and drag her back down into their pit of oblivion.

Within her mind, she struggled to remember. She had known that man. He wasn’t Peter. He wasn’t family. But he was somehow a part of whatever it was that she needed to do.

Like a cold slap to the face, it came back to her in a rush. Lissa! That girl who’d tried to rescue her from the arbor. She’d abandoned that poor girl to the uncertain mercies of the man who hovered over her now. She’d done her best to drive him away, to protect the girl, but she’d been too weak.

Once more she summoned her strength and fought against the invisible ties holding her down, thrashing her head from side to side, clawing her way back up toward the light. She was determined to succeed this time, no matter how tightly they tried to hold her down.

When her eyes opened again, she felt very different than she had on each prior attempt. As if awaking from a long, refreshing sleep, none of that exhausted weakness clung to her any longer. This time, she was ready for battle.

With a shout of outrage, she burst up from the bed where she lay to confront those who held her prisoner.

In her mind, at least, that was the scenario. And though her mind was indeed ready for battle, frustratingly, her body didn’t seem quite up to the task. The mighty shout she’d envisioned came out as more of a raspy groan, and she was quite certain her head hadn’t cleared the mattress by more than a quarter of an inch.

This wasn’t good. Not good at all.

“It would seem she’s returning from the Land of Oracles to rejoin us.” The voice of a woman. An old voice, hoarse with age. “My timing, as always, is perfect.”

“Yer timing?” a man said, followed by a snort of derision. “Then I suppose that my having to carry you here like a sack of belligerent grain was little more than a part of yer master plan, aye? To delay yer arrival until this very moment?”

“In a manner of speaking,” the woman answered as she laid a cool hand on Annie’s cheek. “Are you back with us, then, sweetling?”

Annie did her best to nod, but wasn’t sure she did more than blink a couple of times.

“Help me to prop her up a bit. With those parched lips, she’s likely ready for a sip or two.”

Water! Now that her thirst was brought to her attention, Annie could hardly wait as two large hands snugged in under her arms and lifted her up, leaning her back against a fluff of pillows.

“Here you are. Take it slowly now,” the woman cautioned as the thick rim of a mug touched Annie’s lips.

One huge gulp later, she understood the need for caution, sputtering and choking on what tasted like a bitter, diluted version of flavored vinegar.

“What is that?” she said, fully awake at last. “It’s awful.”

“Mulled wine, of course,” the old woman answered, her face wrinkled in indignation. “And one of our better batches, if I do say so myself.”

“Sorry.” Annie shook her head, keenly aware of the heat rising in her face. “I didn’t mean to insult your cooking. Or brewing. Or whatever you do to make that stuff. It’s just…I expected water, you know? Just plain old water. May I have some, please?”

“Water?” a male voice scoffed. The man in the corner, the one who’d leaned over her earlier, spoke this time. The one with the intense eyes. He approached the bed again, his arms crossed in front of him. Arms that would put most football players to shame. “Yer barely returned to yerself and you’d have us hasten another illness upon you?”

“Hush yerself, lad,” the old woman said. “I can send a boy down to the stream for a bucket if you’d like to wash up. Or perhaps they have some heated in the kitchens.”

What was wrong with these people? Water didn’t make a person sick. Although, come to think of it…

Now that Annie actually paid a little attention to her surroundings, it did appear as though she was somewhere pretty primitive. The walls were made of stone with what looked like rugs hanging on them and the windows were little more than holes placed high up in the walls, with wooden shutters on either side of them. Was it even possible that there were places in Scotland that didn’t have running water?

And if so, were those places this close to her cottage? If not…

“Where am I?” she asked, pushing away from the pillows to sit upright in the bed. “Who are you people?”

“Who are we?” the big man echoed, his handsome face a mask of arrogant indignation. “That’s only one of the questions you should be answering. Who are you and who’s responsible for locking you in our arbor?”

“ Your arbor?” Apparently it was her turn to play echo chamber. “Oh, I don’t think so.”

Were these people squatters, living in the abandoned castle on her grandmother’s property because Ellen had come here so irregularly? That might explain the primitive nature of their surroundings, if they were living here without permission and totally off the grid. She could almost accept that explanation, except for the fact that these stone walls were standing and solid, and the ones she’d walked through earlier today on her way to the arbor had been little more than crumbled ruins.

“What is this place?” she asked again, her heart pounding in her chest.

“Everyone out!” Lissa breezed into the room, a large tray in her hands and a young boy carrying a large bucket trailing behind her. “Wonderful! You’ve come back to yerself. I was fair worried over you after you collapsed again.”

Seeing Lissa felt almost like finding a friend in a roomful of strangers. Annie’s first thought was relief that the young woman had survived their attackers. Her second—the more rattling of the two—was that those same attackers were in this very room and were, even now, meekly heading toward the door on the orders of the petite redhead.

Lissa was one of them?

She must be. The larger man stopped beside her, dipping his head to share a whispered conversation. Annie found herself feeling more than a little envious of the hand he placed on the woman’s shoulder before Lissa shooed him out the door behind the other one, leaving only the two of them and the elderly woman who sat on the foot of the bed.

None of this made any sense. Not who these people were, not why she was here and sure as heck not why she’d have any sort of feelings other than complete dislike when it came to the man who’d just left the room.

“I’m so confused,” Annie muttered, lifting a hand to her head and wincing as her fingers brushed over her cheek, sending shards of pain strafing up the side of her face.

“Put yer worries from yer breast, fair lady, and old Agneys will see to all yer aches and pains,” the older woman said, rising from the bed to rummage through the small clay pots on the tray Lissa had brought in. “Ah, this is what we need.”

“Wait.” Annie pulled back from Agneys as the healer dipped her fingers into the pot and lifted a slimy substance toward Annie’s face. “What is that?”

The old woman clucked her tongue and pushed Annie’s hand away. “Just you sit quietly and let me do what I’m best at and we’ll have that nasty swelling down in no time. As to what I’m using, it’s naught but a salve to help the wound upon yer cheek. A bit of yarrow and mallow with some balm mixed in, along with a few other things. Secrets of my trade, you ken,” she said with a wink.

Annie sat patiently as Agneys smeared the concoction over her cheek, trying not to let her imagination run wild thinking about what other things might be included in the smelly goo. She even managed to stay quiet until the older woman sat back, clearly pleased with her handiwork.

“Thank you,” she said, realizing that Agneys was doing her best to be helpful. “I honestly do appreciate your trying to help me. But if you really want to help me, you can tell me where I am and who all of you people are.”

Lissa neared the bed, her head tilted to one side as if she studied a strange creature such as she’d never seen before.

“A barter, then,” Lissa said, her lips curling in a beautiful smile. “An answer for an answer. Let’s see… To answer where you are, yer in my bedchamber at Castle Dunellen. Now it’s yer turn. Why have you come here now?”

Annie waited for a moment, trying to grasp the answer she’d been given. Though Lissa had told her where she was, she actually knew no more now than she had before she’d gotten her answer. But if a deal was the only way to get answers to her questions, a deal was a deal, and she owed Lissa an answer. Problem was, Lissa had asked a question to which she had no answer.

“I’ve come here because, I guess…because you brought me here. Last thing I remember, I’d gone into my grandmother’s arbor. And then, after the earthquake, you were there.”

Lissa tapped a finger to her lips, her eyes narrowing. “Aye, you mentioned the earth moving before, did you no’? But let’s stick to the practical for now. The arbor I found you in is no' yer grandmother’s. It belongs to the MacKillican clan, built by my own grandfather when he became laird. What’s yer full name, Annie? Who’s yer clan?”

Sorting her thoughts, Annie tried to decide on her best course of action. It would appear these squatters were the family members of someone who had done the construction work on her grandmother’s property. Though that theory didn’t explain how they’d managed to hide this apparently massive structure when she’d walked for as far and as long as she had without having seen any sign of it. Still, that theory did give her something to go on, and though she suspected quibbling over facts with people like these wasn’t the smartest thing to do, there was right and there was wrong.

And what Lissa claimed as fact was just plain wrong.

“My name is Analise Shaw. Does the name Shaw sound familiar? It certainly should. As far as that arbor goes, your grandfather might have been the workman who constructed it, but this property has belonged to my grandmother for the last forty years. She left it to me when she died last month.”

All neat and legal, with a stack of paperwork signed by a ton of lawyers and witnesses.

“Forty years?” Lissa snorted, leaning over a large chest and pulling out a variety of garments, which she held up to study, one piece at a time. “I beg to differ. My grandfather was granted this land by Alexander II himself, for payment of services rendered in defense of the king. There’s even a scroll attesting to it kept in a place of honor in the laird’s solar. Ah, here we go. This one should work just fine for you. It belonged to my mother, so it’s no' so new, but she was closer to you in height.”

“Wait a second,” Annie said, trying to fit her mind around all the impossible things Lissa had just claimed.

King Alexander II?

Annie’s mind rummaged through what little history she knew about Scotland while Lissa held up a costume similar to the one she wore. There had to be something she was missing in this conversation. Either that or she’d hit her head a lot harder than she’d thought. Had these squatters moved in here because of some ancient land grant they’d stumbled upon? Surely they had to know those things held no legal power. They were little more than historical artifacts. Interesting and cool, and maybe even worth cash to a museum, but that was about it.

Or maybe they didn’t know that at all. In which case, she’d need to tread even more lightly until she could get out of here and get the authorities to sort through all of this.

Although… Lissa had specifically said the land had been granted to her grandfather. Perhaps it was only a twist of the language difference. Maybe she used the term grandfather to mean all her male ancestors. Though in the context she’d used it, it didn’t seem as though that was what she meant.

“I think I’m misunderstanding what you meant,” Annie said at last. “Because what I thought you said isn’t making any sense to me. I may be just another American tourist who doesn’t know a lot about your history, but I do remember reading about King Alexander, and I do remember that he ruled in something like twelve hundred. So obviously there’s no way your grandfather could have dealt with him.”

“Aye, but he did.” Lissa tilted her head to the side, a confused smile lifting the corners of her mouth, as if her confusion was as great as Annie’s. She also seemed equally determined in the accuracy of her claim. “As a young man, Grandda served the good king as one of his private guardsmen. In the year of our Lord twelve twenty, this land and the castle standing upon it was granted to my grandfather to be home to Clan MacKillican, to remain so for as long as any MacKillican descendant survived. As such, three generations of our people have occupied these lands for more than seventy-five years. Yer forty years are hardly a match to that, aye? Up with you now, Annie, and off the bed. Let’s get you out of these strange things yer wearing and into something more presentable.”

Seventy-Five years? How could that be? Well, simply, it couldn’t be. Not unless…

“What year is this?” Annie asked, her voice little more than a strangled whisper as she pushed Lissa’s helping hand away. “Answer my question first.”

“Twelve ninety-five, of course,” Lissa answered, one eyebrow raising as she turned to share a look with the old healer.

Agneys shook her head, once again making the clucking sound with her tongue. “Don’t be looking to me in surprise, Alissaund r e, daughter of the MacKillican. What did you expect from a woman you pulled out of yer grandfather’s Faerie haunt?”

Twelve ninety-five.

The date played over and over again in Annie’s head, rattling around like a loose marble, as she allowed Lissa to pull her from the bed and help her lift her sweater up over her head.

“Where’d you get this?” Lissa lifted the pendant hanging around Annie’s neck.

“It was my grandmother’s,” Annie answered without thought, feeling as if she’d just climbed off a roller coaster after hanging upside down for an hour.

Twelve ninety-five?

If she were the type of female who slumped into a faint at every little shock, she’d be a puddle on the floor at this very minute. She almost wished she were that type. Anything to escape the insanity of the world she found herself in right now.

Twelve-freakin’-ninety-five!

Her mind reeled at the idea as she struggled to put everything that had happened into some sort of reasonable pattern. No matter how she considered the facts, she could find no reason, no pattern. Only the stark possibility of something that couldn’t possibly happen loomed larger than life.

“She’ll need slippers for her feet,” Agneys said, staring down at the floor. “I don’t suppose you’ve any of yer mother’s old ones, have you? Yers are no' likely to fit her.”

“I always kenned the truth of it,” Lissa murmured, her features wrinkled in a thoughtful frown as her finger traced the outline of Annie’s pendant. Then she shook her head as if to clear her thoughts, and a semblance of her smile returned. “Slippers. Aye, you have the right of it, Aggie. She’ll be needing those and I’ve none that will fit. I suppose we’ll have to pay a visit to old Willie. Have ourselves a wee chat about how quickly he thinks he can make a pair for her.”

Shoes? Seriously? If what they were saying was true, Annie was somehow trapped in the wrong freakin’ century, and these two were worried about shoes? She wanted to scream at the women. She wanted to scream at the world around her, or simply scream, period.

Annie took a deep breath to calm herself, struggling to center her scattered emotions and regain her tenuous hold on reality. Obviously, her imagination was running wild. None of this was possible. And even if it were, hysteria wasn’t the answer. It made much more sense that these people were playing her in some elaborate con. That had to be it. She’d taken her share of science classes and loved to watch every science documentary that showed on television. She knew for a fact that time travel absolutely, positively was not possible. Time moved inexorably forward. In one direction only, like a raging river.

A memory of Syrie’s parting words crowded into her mind, shoving aside every other thought, demanding her attention.

It isn’t a river, flowing only in one direction. It’s a grand, swirling wind, blowing hither and yon.

No. She simply couldn’t accept that. She wouldn’t accept it. The conversation with her grandmother’s friend was merely a coincidence. A weird fluke. Nothing more.

“You’re making a big mistake,” Annie said at last. “I don’t know what you guys are trying to pull, but you’re not going to get away with it. I don’t belong here. Maybe you should just help me get back to my grandmother’s cottage, okay?” When the two women exchanged another look she couldn’t read, Annie tried again. “Never mind that. How about you just point me in the direction of the arbor. I’ll find my own way back to the cottage. My shoes are in the arbor, anyway. We won’t even need to bother your old Willie.” Whoever the hell that was.

“Alex is no’ likely to allow you outside the gates. He says it’s no’ safe,” Lissa said. “No’ with the threat of the Gordons lurking about.”

Someone here wouldn’t allow her outside the gates? They were keeping her prisoner? Wait! What had she said?

“Gordons? Peter’s family?” Even if Peter knew she’d been kidnapped by some oddball cult—which he couldn’t possibly at this point, because she was only now learning of it herself—he would hardly be the one to come looking for her. And his family? There was no way they’d be here. They’d much more likely be waiting for her family to cough up the ransom while they sought sympathy from all their wealthy friends at the country club.

“Peter is a Gordon?” Lissa asked, all trace of her smile gone. “And how is it that you know Peter of the Clan Gordon?”

How? Because their fathers had done numerous business deals together over the years. Because they belonged to the same social circles. Because her parents thought he’d make the perfect husband and their marriage would meld their family fortunes into one giant conglomeration worthy of a mention in one of the prominent business magazines.

“Peter is…” Annie paused, as she twisted the diamond ring on her finger, finding it as difficult to say the words now as she had from the moment she’d foolishly accepted his proposal. “We’re to be married.”

“I must say, that’s no' something I expected to hear.” Lissa stepped back from her, shaking her head. “And no' something I think Alex will be at all pleased to learn, either.”

This was the second time she’d mentioned this Alex person. Perhaps he was their ringleader. But regardless of who he was, if he thought she cared what he liked or didn’t, or that she was going to take this whole charade like some pathetic whiner, sitting back, waiting until…well, waiting for whatever it was he planned for her, then he’d better get himself a whole new set of thoughts. She wasn’t falling for any of this, no matter how convincing they all were.

“Who is this Alex you keep referring to? I want to talk to him,” she demanded.

“Alex is my brother and, for now, laird of the MacKillican,” Lissa said. “All things considered, I’d say this is yer lucky day, Annie. As it just so happens, he very much desires to speak with you, as well.”