Page 4 of Time of the Warlord (Stones of Scotland #5)

H ow much of a fool did this woman take him for? Her clumsy attempts at flirtation were downright embarrassing. She was a beautiful woman - that much was obvious - but it would take a lot more than a pretty face to blind Ciaran to the truth. That she was from the future, he did not doubt. That she was not exactly where she wanted to be, he could also believe. But she was keeping some important truth from him. He would need to learn her secrets.

The rough mountain road led them back down to his own home, perched on cliffs above the sea. From here, the rising moon illuminated the sparkling black of flat water, stretching out as far as the eye could see. This island was Ciaran’s home, and he had never seen a place more wondrous.

“Is it far?” the woman asked in that silly little squeak of a voice. Ciaran rolled his eyes, knowing she could not see in the growing darkness.

“Only a few moments,” he assured her. “Look, you can see the firelights burning just ahead.”

The woman followed him meekly, trotting along the gravel behind him. Ciaran was willing to bet she could stride out as confidently as him - she was wearing some sturdy-looking boots - but this was no doubt part of her act. Perhaps the men of her time preferred weak women.

“You disturbed my peaceful evening walk,” he told her as the road flattened out and they approached the final stretch leading to his home.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, sounding utterly insincere. “I hate to be an inconvenience.”

“I’m sure you do,” he said dryly. If she was as smart as she looked, then she would have heard the same insincerity in his own voice. After all, what would a man like him be doing, taking a peaceful evening stroll up in the hills?

The guards outside the palisade gate snapped to attention as soon as they saw Ciaran approaching. Huge flaming torches cast enough light to illuminate his face and identify him to his men. He nodded and they swung the great gates open, casting curious glances at the strange red-haired woman. And she was worth staring at - Ciaran could admit that. Her outfit was rather incredibly form-fitting, revealing long legs and a tightly curved waist.

Perhaps one of his men would fall for her charms. That might be a useful way to learn more about her. But Ciaran dismissed the idea almost straight away. Whatever secrets she held, he would uncover them himself.

The gate swung shut behind them with an almighty crash, but Ciaran kept on striding.

“Where are we going?” the woman asked. This time, the wavering tone in her voice sounded genuine. There was a much smaller gate to the side of the main portal, designed for foot travelers, but Ciaran had thought the main gate might intimidate her a little. He’d clearly made the correct decision.

“I will find you a place to sleep in my hall,” he told her. “In the morning, I can send word for the help you will need.”

“No one can help me tonight?”

That definitely was real fear in her voice. Ciaran smoothed down his smile as he turned to regard her in the torchlight.

“It will be a few days before help can arrive, I’m afraid. You will have to remain here until then, as my guest.”

Also not true - at least, not strictly - but he would not trust her with any of his secrets until she gave up a few of her own.

More guards leaped into action and swung open the hall doors. Ciaran strode inside, once again leaving the woman to scramble after him. The room was still bustling, despite the late hour. Some corners were filled with sleeping people, but some tables were still occupied with eating and drinking. Ciaran’s people kept different hours, depending on their responsibilities, and the hall was always open to all.

“Niamh,” he called out, spotting his sister on the other side of the hall, helping to clear the main table. She turned to look at him, smoothing her expression of surprise into one of welcome as soon as she spotted the stranger.

“A guest! What a delight,” she said as she crossed the hall towards them.

“This is…” Ciaran fumbled for her name. He really must be slipping. “Sadie,” he said after a second too long. “She will be staying with her for a few days. She is an honored guest, so please put her in the room where the queen would stay.”

Niamh’s eyes widened just a fraction, and he knew she had understood his meaning. His sister had always been quick.

“Of course, brother,” she murmured, then turned to Sadie with a brilliant smile. “Do you have any possessions? I would be happy to lend you everything you need.”

Sadie murmured something unintelligible. Ciaran smothered a smile. Her helpless act would not last long in the face of his sister’s determination. Still, better safe than sorry. He gestured subtly to a couple of guards, who nodded in acknowledgment. They would not give their ‘guest’ a chance to wander.

“I will see you both in the morning,” he said, inclining his head to the ladies. “Niamh, I will retire to my chamber. Sadie, I hope that you will be comfortable here. Welcome to Dunn Morvid.”

He strode away, back out into the darkness beyond the light of the hall. There, he hovered in the shadows, waiting. Niamh appeared a moment later, Sadie trailing behind her. The guards were a little further back again, hopefully far enough away that Sadie would not notice them. Niamh was chattering away in a friendly voice, although Ciaran noticed with amusement that she kept her choice of topic so superficial as to be meaningless. He suspected Sadie had no interest in what kind of shoes were currently fashionable at court. Niamh seemed to have everything well in hand.

Ciaran returned to his own chamber. He debated calling for a bath, but that would eat up precious time he could little afford.

Sure enough, it was only a few moments before Niamh burst in through the door.

“You could knock first,” Ciaran pointed out mildly.

“She’s one of them , isn’t she?” Niamh asked.

“And how did you come to that conclusion?” Ciaran asked.

“You told me the queen’s room,” Niamh pointed out. “Queen Bethany has never been here, and you know that very well. You were trying to tell me that she’s from the future, like the queen.”

“Well deduced,” Ciaran said, smiling at her.

“Not to mention the ridiculous outfit she was wearing,” Niamh added with a grimace. Then her expression abruptly grew serious again. “But I’m more interested in who didn’t come back with you, Ciaran. Is he truly gone?”

Ciaran frowned.

“There was no evidence of him at the stone circle,” he said. “Just that woman, whoever she is and whatever she has to do with this all. No, I think he’s still on the island. We just have to find him.”