Authors: Catherine Bybee
Tags: #Romance, #General, #Love Stories, #Time Travel, #Fiction
“My father is deserving of his title.”
“I couldn’t agree more. You’ll follow in his footsteps. The men respect you like they do your father.”
“I’ve fought by their sides many times in the past.”
Tara ignored the chill running down her back at the mention of fighting. “Fin, now Fin’s a player.”
“What is a player?”
“A ladies’ man. I’ll bet he has women falling all over him wherever he goes. I guess that’s why you were both sent to the future. The virgins didn’t stand a chance.”
Duncan laughed at her assessment.
“Now Myra,” Tara went on. “She’s like your mom. A hopeless romantic. I know arranged marriages are common for this time, but I tell you, she’d wither and die in a loveless marriage.”
“What makes you say that?”
“She needs more, I don’t know, more passion, romance. Anything less than a knight-in-shining armor and she’d turn up her nose.”
“She’s told you this?” he asked.
“Not in so many words. It’s only my opinion.”
“Is there anyone Myra has an eye for?”
“She hasn’t told me if there is and I think she would.” Tara took in the hillside, her thoughts grew distant. “She reminds me of my sister.”
“I didn’t know you had a sister.”
“Lizzy. She’s two years older than me. Now, she is a hopeless romantic. For all the good it did her.”
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“Tell me.” His look was full of questions and concern.
“Lizzy had a hard start. She fell for her high school sweetheart, her first real love. He was nice enough, in the beginning at least. They dated for awhile.”
“What is dated?”
“Courted, is how you would say it.”
“So your father approved of this man.”
Tara laughed. “He was a boy, not a man. Only one year older than my sister. My dad was too busy working to notice his eldest daughter falling in love.
My mother noticed, but she believed in the ‘don’t ask don’t tell’ theory. She figured she’d completed her job when she warned us about what boys want, and expected us not to do it.”
“Ahh, it sounds like what mothers tell their daughters in this time as well.”
“Lizzy did do
it
. She thought she loved him. He told her he loved her too, and before long they started sleeping together. Within a few months she was pregnant.”
“Your time has protection against pregnancy, does it not?”
“Accidents still happen even with those precautions.” Tara breathed in the cool air. “My dad flipped when he found out. My mom cried. Lizzy’s boyfriend denied all responsibility.”
“What? He was a coward.”
Tara was surprised to hear resentment in his reply. “Yes, he was a coward, a kid. I imagine he was scared to death at the possibility of his life being over at seventeen. His parents moved out of state when they heard Lizzy was going to keep the baby.”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, that’s right. You don’t have abortions here.
Well...”
She picked her words carefully. “If a woman 151
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doesn’t want the baby, a doctor can stop the pregnancy. Lizzy never considered that an option.
Giving the baby to someone else to raise wasn’t an option for her either. So, she had Simon.
“He’s Amber’s age now. Lizzy found a job working in a daycare. She has always struggled to make it work. But she has, somehow.”
“Your parents didn’t help?” Disgust laced his words.
“No. As soon as she turned eighteen, they kicked her and Simon out.” Tara narrowed her eyes at the painful memory. “I finished high school six months early and left home. Once I was out of the house, they moved somewhere in Arizona. I haven’t heard or seen them since. But Lizzy and I were very close.
Her son Simon is the greatest kid.”
They rode is silence for awhile, both caught up in their own thoughts. Neither of them snuck into the other’s mind.
Breaking the solemn mood, Tara asked, “How long will it take us to get to the village?”
“At this pace it will take us ‘till mid-day.”
“Which means we would be getting back after dark. Is it safe?” She glanced toward the woods and thought of thieves living in them.
“I can protect you, Tara.”
She noted the massive sword strapped to his waist, his straight back and ruffled hair reminded her she had nothing to fear. No self-respecting criminal would willingly clash swords with him. He would protect her and look good while doing it!
He is
the definition of eye candy.
She forgot to block the words from him.
An image of a child’s sucker being popped into her mouth came straight from Duncan’s mind. She watched his laughing eyes, their expression bordered on seductive. He drew his horse closer.
“Would you like a taste?”
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Her teeth caught her bottom lip. “Maybe a little.” What harm could come on the back of a horse?
He dropped his lips to hers, like every time they connected, Tara felt shudders of pleasure drifting down her body.
Unable to keep her thoughts to herself, Tara moaned inside and out.
I want more.
Her hand resting on his chest moved over his body, searching for skin-to-skin contact.
The horses pushed away from each other, breaking their contact.
Tara, feeling off balance, struggled to keep her seat. Duncan struggled in a different way. The effect of their brief contact had his leggings tight, and his position on the back of his horse was uncomfortable.
Tara struggled to keep from smiling when she read what Duncan thought.
“You’re thinking this funny are you?”
Not able to stop, Tara started laughing so hard she doubled over and had to hold her sides for support. “I’m sorry, really.” His serious look made her laugh even harder. Tears fell with every renewed giggle. “Maybe you should go back to wearing a kilt.”
“Perhaps I will.”
Tara imagined his ease with seduction while wearing such clothing. She quickly stopped laughing after reading his thoughts.
He changed the subject and kept her busy with instructions on riding until they reached the edge of the village.
Tara gawked at the sights. The village was right off the pages of a novel. Thatched roofs on top of simple buildings blotted the landscape. Smoke from cooking fires rose out of pits both in and outside the dwellings. Children ran free along with dogs and an 153
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occasional chicken.
People stopped what they were doing and watched when they approached. Greetings came in the form of waves and an occasional bow.
Tara noticed a few mules corralled or hooked up to an occasional cart and asked, “Where are all their horses?”
“Not many villagers can afford the luxury of a mount. Those that do are in the outlying fields working the summer harvest or herding sheep. They prepare all spring and summer for our long winters.”
“Oh.” Long winters weren’t something she thought much about after years of living in Southern California. Instead of dwelling on the unknown, Tara noticed a cart loaded with what looked like dirty cotton. “...and over there?” Tara pointed to the cart. “Wool, from the sheep. The women will comb out the dirt, divide it up into colors. Some will be dipped and dyed for fabric, some will be spun for blankets.”
He had more to tell, but she was already moving on to the next question.
“...and that?”
“Our resident smith.”
“And there, do you have someone who makes glass here?”
“Aye, we do.”
“I remember reading once that people in this time often were sick from lead poisoning. I noticed most of the dishes and cooking surfaces are some type of iron. Do you know if they contain lead?”
“Some I suppose.”
“You might consider having him make more of the cooking and eating surfaces.”
Duncan nodded at her. “Aye, I will.”
The scent of baked apples filled the air. “Mmm...
what smells so good?”
“Mrs. Claunch. She makes the best sweet pies.
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Would you like one?” He signaled for a nearby lad to fetch the leads of his horse after he dismounted.
Duncan took her by the waist, and helped her from the horse.
“Thank you, my Lord,” she teased.
“The pleasure is mine, my Lady.” He swept her fingers in his hand, and brushed the back of them with his lips.
They stared at each other.
You sure have the moves.
Are they working then, Tara love?
Instead of answering, she kept his hand from dropping hers and placed it above her rapidly beating heart.
You tell me?
The clearing of someone’s throat stopped him from capturing her lips. He turned to see Mrs.
Claunch dusting flour from her hands.
“Lord Duncan, give the girl some room, lad. She looks a bit flushed to me.”
Holding Tara possessively around the waist, he led her to Mrs. Claunch. “She smells the aroma of your lovely cakes, lass. Might you have some to spare for a pair of hungry travelers?”
Mrs. Claunch, long past her
lass
days, blushed at his words.
Tara sent Duncan a hidden
‘you big flirt’
message. His hand squeezed hers signaling he heard her. “Mrs. Claunch, I want you to meet Lady Tara.”
“I had heard of a new Lady at the Keep. ’Tis nice to match a face to the name.” Mrs. Claunch looked Tara up and down with a smile. “Come, come. No need to stand in the street.”
They entered a large room with a cook’s fire. It held a table with four wooden chairs. A larger chair laden down with blankets was obviously where Mrs.
Claunch spent her days. A much smaller room appeared to hold a bed was toward the back.
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“Sit please. Have ye eaten?”
“We ate before we left the Keep,” Duncan told her. “No wonder your Lady looks like she does.
Starving her, are ye?” Mrs. Claunch moved to the fire and pulled out the skillet holding the object of the mouth-watering aroma.
It was some type of apple bread or cake, Tara thought. “Can I help you?”
“No, my lady. I have it.”
“Call me Tara.”
Pleased at the request, Mrs. Claunch moved to place her hot skillet on the table.
Tara noticed an iron trivet and quickly placed it down for their hostess.
Mrs. Claunch patted Tara’s cheek and smiled. “I like your Lady, my Lord. Ye must bring her back to see me.”
“Once she tastes your treats, I’ll have a hard time keeping her away.”
Mrs. Claunch set a kettle on for tea and then took a seat with her guests. “Tell me news of the Keep.”
Duncan filled her in on the comings and goings of those in the main house. He talked of Amber’s kittens and how she would be looking for homes for them when they were old enough.
Mrs. Claunch’s movements were slow and well thought out. Tara thought she suffered from arthritis, and did her best to assist the woman while they enjoyed her apple cakes.
When the water boiled in the kettle, Tara moved quickly to pour the tea.
Duncan gave her a nod of approval.
When it was time for them to go, Tara helped Mrs. Claunch to her feet. “Thank you for the delicious cake. Perhaps you would show me how to make them sometime? I’ve never tasted anything 156
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quite like them.”
“I would love to.” Mrs. Claunch said her goodbyes and sent them off with a bag of cakes to take back.
“She was very nice.” Tara said to Duncan when they walked away.
“Aye, she is. By day’s end she’ll have spoken to every woman in the village singing your praises.”
“I doubt that.”
“There is little to entertain our people. Your kindness will be talked about for weeks.”
“My kindness? She was the one who cooked. All I did was eat. She wouldn’t even let me help with the dishes.”
“I believe you are the first Lady to volunteer to do her dishes.”
“We both know I’m no more a ‘Lady’ than she is,” Tara said.
“Nay, Tara. You are in every way a Lady.”
The widow’s cottage was like Mrs. Claunch’s home. Straight across was Haggart’s. His offensive dog slept peacefully by the door.
“We’ll talk with the widow first.” Duncan took stock of the darkening sky. The clouds forming overhead worried him. The time it would take to bring closure to the neighboring feud would mean they would return to the Keep in the rain.
“We could save a little time if we talk to each of them separately.” Tara tapped her head. “We can use our special communication skills to work out a solution.”
“Are you sure?” he asked.
You’ve been working
hard to keep me out of your beautiful head.
It’s all the MacCoinnich charm you’ve been
oozing today. It makes me want to try something
new.
“You’ll need to introduce me first.” Tara mimicked Duncan’s actions when he tied his horse to a pole.
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The widow was much younger than Tara was led to believe. She was incredibly beautiful and looked like she was less than forty-five years old.
Even her name sounded young, Celeste.
Tara suspected, just as Myra thought, Celeste was lonely after marrying her daughter off only two years before. Widowed when her daughter was only ten, she had spent many of her best years without male companionship, and her loneliness showed.
After Duncan introduced Tara, he made his way to Haggart’s, where the horribly vicious dog licked him enthusiastically when he reached down to pet him in greeting.
“Ahh, Lord Duncan. To what honor do I owe your presence?”
“I’ve come to speak with ye on behalf of my father.”
A small frown passed Haggart’s face. “Come in, come in. I have an excellent ale I was about to pour.”
Haggart, shy of his fiftieth birthday, welcomed the future Laird of Coinnich into his home like he had many times in the past.
“What happened with the dog, Celeste?” Tara accepted the water she gave.
“He trampled my tomatoes is what he did. I had one this big.” She lifted her hands showing what she meant. “It was about to turn red.”
“How did he get in your garden?” Tara noticed the small fence surrounding her precious vegetables when she walked in.