Chapter Two
Torr put down his ale and studied the four new members of his castle. In the past month, his clan had grown, not by natural means. After three years of losing people, he found it hard to accept that it now increased, especially so fast. His gut told him not to trust this situation, and he always followed his gut. That’s how he had found Kerr under the dead horse last winter.
He glanced at the king. He now housed Scotland’s last hope, a responsibility he took seriously, so he had to be cautious. Ian, a cousin to Fergus, was hopefully too young to know intrigue, though he wouldn’t rule him out completely, not yet. Douglas and Graham were grown men and despite good reasons for joining him, either or both could be spies. His most recent addition had arrived in the form of the woman, Diana. He would like to categorize her with Ian, no threat, at least to Robert, but he’d be a fool to discount her so quickly.
She was beautiful in a way he’d never encountered before. Her pale blond locks refused to stay within the braid at her back and curled about her face in the summer heat. Her eyes shone a pale green like newly sprung leaves of heather, and her lips, a deep salmon color, appeared softer than the fleece of a lamb. However, she had a strong nose and chin, which forewarned a stubbornness he was used to in a Highland woman.
He picked up his tankard and swallowed more ale. Diana’s fully curved body revealed by the leine soaked to her skin this afternoon would be worth challenging any resistance she may choose to make were he to invite her to his bed. From her regular glances toward him, she was either interested in his bed or she’d joined them for a nefarious purpose.
“Torr, what has you so preoccupied that you miss your brother’s jest?”
His king’s voice refocused his concentration on his own table, and he lowered his tankard. “I only think about yer safety.”
King Robert shook his head. “I have to agree with Kerr, you forget that both he and I can defend ourselves.”
“On the contrary.” He lifted a piece of chicken from his trencher and with it, pointed to his younger brother. “I am well aware of Kerr’s ability to defend himself, but a lowland laird like yerself, I have my doubts. I have seen no proof of this supposed prowess.”
His table grew silent, and he was hard pressed to keep a smirk from his face. His liege was aware of his ploy.
Robert rose and banged on the table with his tankard until the Great Hall grew quiet. “I have been challenged by this upstart laird!” His voice boomed. “He believes me ill equipped to defend myself, a belief he has hinted at for the past year now. I think it is time I met his challenge.”
Torr perused the faces of his clan. Many appeared uneasy, but those of his men who knew him well, like his brother, grinned. His gaze rested on his newest clan member. Her brows were knit with concern, but was it for him or his king? Either way, he liked the loyalty revealed in her expression. He stood with his tankard in hand and faced Robert. “The practice yard at midday tomorrow then!”
The king raised his cup. “Tomorrow!”
As they tipped back their ale, a cheer rose and Robert clapped him on the back.
Torr smiled. “It will be my honor to spar with ye. Would ye the broadsword or the claymore?”
Robert resumed his seat, and he followed. “I prefer to best you with the broadsword. It will reveal my skill to our followers. There is no need for the claymore. My endurance has already been proven these last eight months.”
“Aye, it has. The broadsword it will be then.”
When Robert’s attention was once more taken by the men at the table, Torr looked across the room for a pale blond head and was surprised to discover it missing. Scanning the room, he noticed Nessa gone, too, but Evan was still present. He’d wager Nessa was as loyal a clan member as any. Did she follow Diana to spy on her?
The meal would continue for a while, but his curiosity was too much to ignore and with the king in residence, he couldn’t risk ignoring the women’s disappearance. Leaving the table, he stepped outside, careful not to make a sound. The evening was quiet except for the female voices coming from the secluded area behind the blacksmith forge where he and his men had recently bathed.
As silent as the night air, he moved, keeping to the shadows. When he stood alongside the wall of the forge, he held still and listened. Water splashed and one woman let out a brief cry before it was hushed. He smirked, his concerns laid to rest.
“Shh, Nessa. Someone will discover us.”
“Then don’t be splashing me with water. If my dress gets too wet, people will be able to see me lady’s parts.”
A chuckle followed that statement. “But isn’t that what you want, for Evan to see all of you?”
“Ach, ye’ve got the devil in ye, ye do. What ye be knowing about that?” The giggles that followed made it clear both women knew more about bedding than they admitted to.
He listened for any suggestion that Diana would be climbing out of the bath water, but the only sound was shuffling on the dirt.
A movement in his peripheral vision distracted him. Now who was about? Sliding to the other end of the wall, he spied around the corner. Someone ducked to the side of the stable before moving through the shadow of the curtain wall and disappearing behind a cart of hay. They did not want to be seen. This was not right, unless he had a spy in his midst.
Diana’s voice floated to him as he peered into the shadows. “I know plenty just by watching you look at Evan. You don’t hide it well.”
Something hit the side of the tub and made a loud thump. Giggles followed. The figure across the yard stopped at the sound. Torr pulled back, making his body flush with the building. After another thump, he heard the women moving, hopefully dressing. He peered around the corner again but couldn’t find the person he’d watched. He scanned the line of huts along the north wall, as well as the chicken coop and the hay shelter, but did not see anything. Protective instincts flooded his body even as anger at a possible betrayal surfaced. He turned in the direction he’d last seen movement, ready to step into the yard and follow.
Nessa harrumphed. “Ye were no better, staring at the laird. I be surprised ye could get two words past yer lips, ye were so in awe.”
He held his breath at Nessa’s words and lowered his foot slowly to the packed earth again.
“Just because I can appreciate a well-made man does not mean I was ‘in awe’ as you so gently put it. The fact is, I was surprised. He was much younger than I expected, and his eyes…”
He raised his brows. So he was a well-made man, was he? He liked that. He peered into the shadows one more time, but all was still. He would discover who it was, and why they were sneaking about the castle yard.
Nessa laughed. “I be glad ye came. Are ye ready to return?”
Diana’s voice held a touch of accent, reminding him she was not from the area. “I am. But I need to retrieve my bundle from the bakery.”
His first concern now was the safety of the two women. Moving away from the building, he strolled into their sight, pleased to find them fully clothed.
Both ladies halted as his shadow fell between them and what little light was left in the sky. Nessa found her voice first. “Oh, my laird, ye scairt us mighty bad. Me heart is going to beat a path outside me chest!”
He lowered his head a fraction. “I apologize, lass. I did not expect to find anyone about, especially not two women.”
Diana did not appear as nervous as Nessa, so he studied her. She met his gaze directly. “We were washing up a bit. I had a long journey today, but if you need the water…”
He shook his head. “Nay, I simply came to discover what noises I heard when I stepped into the yard.”
She studied him in return, unafraid, but also disinterested, as if she looked upon a particularly intricate carving. His smile froze. He didn’t appreciate feeling like he was a piece of wood.
Nessa’s chin rose, and she linked her arm around her new friend. “We were going to the bakery to gather Diana’s things. Then we will go inside. I promise.”
“I will escort you.” The look of surprise on Diana’s face pleased him. He much preferred to see emotion from her than be the object of her examination. It made it easier to understand her. But his intention was less about her reactions and more about protection. Someone skulked about the courtyard when all inside the protection of his walls shouldn’t have anything to hide, and the bakery was a quarter way around the castle.
Nessa appeared ready to protest, but Diana patted her arm and pulled her forward. “We appreciate the company. Perhaps you can explain to me why you challenged King Robert.”
He clasped his hands behind his back as they walked but turned his head away to hide his smirk. He did not wish her to see his amusement at her ignorance. “It is simply a way for Robert to show the men he is worthy of his position, nothing more.”
Diana’s brows furrowed. “But you’ll win because you’re a better swordsman. How will that help the king prove his worth?”
Suspicious, he stopped and the women halted to face him. “And what would ye know of swordsmanship, lass?”
She met his gaze and opened her mouth, but quickly looked away. “Enough to know you are a better swordsman than the king.”
Knowledge. He’d seen it in her eyes. This woman was more complicated than she appeared. That piqued his interest, but in too many ways. On one hand, he wanted her beneath him in his bed. On the other, he was concerned about her intentions in regard to the king.
Footsteps came from the west tower, and he swiveled in that direction, the women safely behind him. As the person drew closer, he relaxed. “Why are you about, Evan?”
The man gave a curt nod, his serious brown eyes scanning the three of them. “I am in need of Nessa. If that is permissible?”
He nodded. “Of course. Nessa?”
Evan’s stance relaxed.
Nessa disengaged her arm from Diana’s and joined Evan. She stood close to him, but didn’t touch him.
He was pleased the two of them respected each other enough to wait for a proper ceremony, that is, if Evan ever gained the courage to ask the lass to marry him.
Nessa hesitated. “What about Diana?”
“I will help her get settled for the night. I think if Evan needs you, that is more important.”
Evan bowed his head once and turned back toward the castle, his stride purposeful. Nessa chatted nonstop at his side.
“They will have a good marriage one day.” Diana’s voice was low and soft, wistful.
He turned toward her and sighed. “If Evan ever asks her. It’s been a year of this.”
She smirked and raised one brow. “I think if he continues to find Nessa in your company, he will propose very soon.”
Torr stepped closer, the scent of heather soap with mint overtones greeting him. “Are you suggesting I feign an interest in the lass?”
“No.” She turned and began to stroll toward the bakery once more. “Nessa only has eyes for Evan. But if you talked to her a little more, I do think he might finally ask her.”
He touched her arm, stopping her. “Are ye already arranging marriages for my clan members?”
She shook her head and met his gaze. “No, but I know true love when I see it.”
“And how do ye know true love so well?” Curious, he stepped closer once again.
Her whole body shrank inward and she looked away. “My parents.” She took a deep breath as if to steady herself. “They loved each other until their dying breath.”
He had been toying with her, but at her sudden honest sorrow, he wanted nothing more than to comfort her. He couldn’t resist. He tilted her head up, but the darkening sky made seeing her features almost impossible now. “Ye miss them.”
She nodded against his finger where he could feel her jaw tense against tears. He knew her loss, the emptiness it left in one’s soul. Without a thought, he brought his arms around her.
She let him hold her, but she didn’t relax against his shoulder, though her throat worked to swallow what he was sure could have been sobs if she allowed it.
He appreciated her effort. He’d seen too many of his clanswomen shed tears for lost husbands and sons. Each time he was grateful his own mother had not lived to see the decimation of her family.
As Diana’s breathing slowed, he noticed other things about her. That she was tall, he had accepted upon meeting her, but that her face was at a perfect height to kiss her lips, he recognized now. That her body was warm and full of curves which fit against his nicely, he also became aware of, never mind her clean, warm scent that made him think of heather and mint.
She pulled away, and he let his arms fall to his sides.
“I’m sorry. I was very close to my parents, but usually I can talk about them. I think I’m just tired.”
He stared at her in the darkness. “Aye, that makes sense. Let us get yer belongings, and ye can bed down in the Great Hall with the others.” Though he would prefer she bed with him so he could feel the full length of her beneath the warmth of the woolens. But he couldn’t trust her yet.
Her voice broke into his thoughts. “I think that would be best.”
She did? Oh aye, the Great Hall to bed down. “Right. Shall we?”
They crossed the rest of the yard in silence, their footsteps muffled by the hardened earth. When they reached the bakery building, he opened the door so she could retrieve her belongings and waited for her. He kept part of his attention on her and the other part listening for sounds around the castle.
“I have everything now.” She stood next to him in the doorway, close but not touching. Her softness teased him. He couldn’t resist. He lowered his head, but she ducked and moved outside.
She glanced at him over her shoulder. “I better get back inside or Nessa will wonder what happened to me.”
He smirked. Smart lass. “Of course.” Smarter than him at the moment. He watched her until she pulled the heavy side door open, then he lost his smile and peered into the darkness. Now to discover who lurked in the shadows of his keep.
…
Diana lay on her woolen blanket, thankful to Zania, TWI’s seamstress, for adding it to her meager bundle of clothing. Zania was far older than any of the agents, but was a wiz with a needle. Like the rest of TWI’s support staff, she had her own special ability and hers was creating material from whatever time period they needed. The woman also liked men…a lot. Her long straight black hair and flashing dark eyes often caught her the man of her choice. It was either that or her magical laugh, which drew men to her.
Folding the blanket into thirds and using her second leine as a pillow, Diana made the stone floor of the castle almost comfortable, with emphasis on almost. She never slept well when on an assignment, and the firmness of the floor beneath didn’t help. These were probably the most rudimentary sleeping conditions she’d ever had to deal with.
Mouse, one of her fellow agents, would be so much better at handling a mission this far back in time. Mouse wasn’t her real name, but it was all she’d tell them. For some reason, the former librarian held a grudge against her, but she had no idea why. She actually admired how well Mouse was able to fit into times deep in the past, like 1477 Spain just before the Inquisition was established and 1065 England before William the Conqueror invaded. Mouse loved going as far back as possible, as if she didn’t like the time she’d been born in.
Maybe she should ask for Mouse to take over. Go-Lucky would lecture her on the fact that all of them were supposed to handle any time period and that her fellow agent would have less than two weeks to fulfill the mission. Jules didn’t dare risk any of them running into each other in the past and kept track of who had been where. That’s why they all were trained to go to any time within the district, which covered America and Europe.
Jules’s ability to telepathically communicate with them didn’t extend across time periods. Luckily, her boss also couldn’t see what they were doing in history or present day, and that’s where Go-Lucky came in. He was, for lack of a better term, their handler. He could contact Jules, but they couldn’t. That was his special ability. According to him, they all had one that he said was a result of their time-travel gene, what he called a defense, though how her ability to calm people was a defense, she didn’t know. So far, the only person who had benefited from it was her fellow agent, Katz, during her nightmares, and a Revolutionary smuggler’s wife she had comforted after he’d been arrested. If she asked to have Mouse take this mission, Jules wouldn’t be happy, but Go-Lucky would smooth the switch over with Jules. He always did.
What she’d really like taken care of was her insomnia while on missions. It had to be the middle of the night and she was wide awake. Two wall torches had been left lit when everyone had bedded down. Looking around the Great Hall, she couldn’t believe how few people actually filled it, but with twenty men gone, many choosing to sleep outside in the mild summer air, and those in the village, there were only a dozen men and women scattered among the tables, benches, and floor. Her home on the New England coast could easily have given every clan member in residence their own bedroom with a soft bed. She grew up privileged, but not spoiled, and her year of training before her first assignment stood her in good stead.
Laird MacPherson, however, was not one of those sleeping in the Great Hall, and neither was Kerr or King Robert. From what she understood, it was typical to have only one or two private bedrooms during these early years. Secretly, she was glad. She didn’t want to have the opportunity to watch the laird of the castle sleep. He was far too attractive as it was, and her lack of love life since joining TWI two years ago didn’t help. She’d never been interested in a man from another time period, but Torr was the epitome of male. She was quite sure every single one of her sister agents would rate him a ten.
For her own sanity, she needed to keep her distance. She had to ensure he died in the upcoming battle as he had originally. That was rule number one and the top priority of every foray back in time: change history back. The less she knew about him, the better.
As she reviewed the faces of those she’d met, Torr MacPherson’s as he told her he was sorry for her loss dominated her mind. Her instincts said the man was honorable, but history wasn’t about good and bad. It was simply about what had been.
She rolled over and her bladder reminded her she wasn’t used to drinking ale. She had no idea of the time since there were no windows in the hall, but it didn’t matter. Quietly, she made her way around Nessa and took the back hallway to the garderobe, what served as a toilet in a medieval castle such as Gealach. When she turned the corner, a very short figure stepped away from the wall.
“About time you got up.”
She swallowed a shout of surprise before she spoke in a furious whisper. “Go-Lucky, you scared the life out of me! What the Dickens are you doing here already?”
The little man lowered his straight orange brows, his hazel eyes sparking with irritation. “I’ve been here for hours waiting for you to wake up. Since when do you sleep most of the night?”
She sat on the floor to give her adrenaline a chance to dissipate as well as to keep their conversation private. “I haven’t. This is my fourth time awake, but I didn’t have to use the garderobe”—she pointed behind him—“until now. Why didn’t you wake me?”
He shook his head, but his fine straight ginger-colored hair barely moved. “Too many people. Too risky.”
“I guess you’re right, but why are you here? I haven’t been here twenty-four hours yet. Has something happened at Stonehaven?” Her home, though a mansion, was now effectively in the middle of a slum. Not the best place for everyone inside.
Go-Lucky leaned against the wall next to her. His black polo shirt revealed his large forearms covered with freckles. His black slacks were probably tailored Ralph Lauren and proved that unlike others with dwarfism, he wasn’t stocky, but evenly proportioned. The little man was always dressed in the height of fashion. Even his bright goatee was trimmed to perfection. He waved her concerns aside. “Everything is fine inside the mansion, though three people have overdosed outside, but that will be fixed once you finish here.”
“That’s a relief. So why are you here so soon?”
“The Time Keeper was able to discover why the death of this laird changed history.”
She tensed in anticipation. This was important. “What did Rafter find?”
“It appears that with MacPherson’s death, his younger brother turns berserker and decimates the enemy, which weakens the English king’s support.”
She cocked her head. “That makes sense.”
“But there’s more.”
Go-Lucky wouldn’t tell her until he was good and ready, and the more curious she appeared, the slower the information would be revealed.
He pretended great interest in his manicured fingernails. “So do the women in this time period care for shorter men?”
Her heart softened. Go-Lucky’s track record with women wasn’t the best. “I don’t know, but it wouldn’t matter. You know the rules. I don’t think Jules would be happy to hear you asked.”
Go-Lucky shrugged. “What Jules doesn’t know…”
She frowned at him.
“What? It’s not my fault Jules can’t use telepathy across time periods and has to send me to communicate.”
“And I suppose it’s not your fault you’re the only male in our district able to time travel, but that doesn’t make it right for you to look for love in another time period. Rule number five: Don’t make friends.”
The man’s shoulders sagged and his voice turned to a whine. “It’s more than friendship I’m looking for.”
He was too good at engendering sympathy. Everyone knew Go-Lucky’s main goal in life was to find his true love. That was about all they knew, except that he hated his mother, but beyond that, he was as much a mystery to her and her fellow agents as Jules. However, Go-Lucky looked out for “his girls” and for once she wished she could do something for him. She felt like a louse to stand in the way of his quest for love. “Hey.”
He returned his gaze to her, and she winked. “If you tell me why the laird’s death is important, I promise to check for you and let you know if any of these ladies prefer smaller men.”
A slow grin lit his face. “Shorter, not smaller.” His wiggling eyebrows had her clamping her teeth together to stifle her chuckle. Men!
He stood straight again and took on the air of a college professor. “As it turns out, after this MacPherson dies, King Robert is so pissed off, he makes a push forward and wins a few battles. Next thing you know, he defeats the English, and Scotland remains its own country, at least until James VI/I, depending on the country you’re referencing.”
She stared hard at Go-Lucky. “So it’s Torr’s death that pushes King Robert past some kind of breaking point?”
He shrugged. “From what Jules can figure out, when the Disruptor kept this laird from dying, the brother never showed his military abilities, so the king never believed he had the right men on his side. Plus, instead of becoming fed up with his loyal followers being killed, the king gave up the fight when his wife was released into her father’s custody. See?”
Wow, she did. It all made perfect sense, at least to a former psychology major. Torr’s death had spurred on the king, but when the Disruptor kept him alive, King Robert gave up and so lost Scotland to England. “That’s very helpful. Thank you. Was there anything else Jules wished me to know?”
“No, but Katz said to tell you to bring her back a souvenir.”
She smiled. Katz knew they weren’t allowed to do that, but every once in a while she asked. The woman probably had her own stash of gold or jewelry hidden in her room. It was well known she’d grown up able to pick both locks and pockets.
But she would never break the rules, and Katz knew it. Her fellow agent just tried to tempt her. “Tell her I’ll be sure to.”
Go-Lucky’s eyes grew round before he realized she was joking. “Right. I’ll tell her. Now I need to get back. Jules wants me to check in on Mouse. It’s been over two weeks and you know how she loses track of time.”
“Speaking of time, what time is it?”
Go-Lucky bowed. “Three twenty-three a.m.”
“Thanks.” Then, before the man disappeared, she gave him a kiss on the cheek. He colored before fading to nothing. When she stood, her bladder reminded her why she was up at such a ridiculous time of night, and she quickly took care of it, not willing to spend any longer than necessary in the garderobe.
Once back on her makeshift bed, her mind spun. She needed to think about who might be the Disruptor and find solid evidence to support her guess so she could stop the person from saving the laird. The only time travelers TWI was aware of were female with the exception of Go-Lucky, so she needed to focus on the women. Mouse’s theory was the Disruptors were men, but she had a feeling Mouse simply blamed everything on men. Oh, Shakespeare, she’d forgotten to ask Go-Lucky if he could get Mouse to take the mission.
She watched the flame on the torch dance with the wisps of air that seeped through the cracks in the stone walls. She much preferred more modern assignments to this one. In this case, it was such a small clan that everyone knew everyone. That might help her ferret out the Disruptor, but it wouldn’t help her keep her distance from her assignment. Her palms started to sweat. This one would be hard.