Chapter Three
The roar rattled Diana’s nerves, and she dropped her cup of well water. “What was that?”
Nessa rolled her eyes. “Kerr’s in trouble again.”
“What?”
Before Nessa could reply, Torr stormed through the front doors of the castle.
“Kerr!” The bellow scared the chickens in the yard, and they scattered. She covered her ears, but Nessa pulled her hand away and pointed.
Evan’s voice sounded from the wall-walk. “Laird! He comes!”
Torr’s stride made short work of the yard. He bounded up the stone steps to the top of the defensive wall where Evan stood. The laird’s string of curses were clearly heard by everyone.
She returned her gaze to Nessa. “What has him so angry?”
“He does not like Kerr to go hunting.”
She knit her brows. “Why not?”
Nessa shook her head as if the answer was obvious. “It be dangerous, but if he keeps that man any closer to home, Kerr will leave with the king. I’ve heard him threaten such before.”
“But Kerr must be more than a score by now. Surely he can take care of himself while hunting.”
“He be a score and five.” Nessa hooked her empty cup on its hook and brushed her leine off before she leaned in to whisper. “And I hear he be all man as well.”
She bent to retrieve her cup and hide her smirk. Nessa’s blunt speech was such a shift for her after her last assignment in Regency England. She’d originally thought the regular reference to sex was only because it was Nessa, but from the gossip around the kitchen at breakfast, talking plainly appeared to be common among all the women.
She even had the dubious honor of listening to Beth elaborate on her sexual escapades with the laird two nights ago. The buxom woman had regaled them all on how he’d allowed her to ride, an honor, as she suggested. Considering the woman’s girth, she imagined the laird was the only one strong enough to handle Beth on top. But imagining the laird naked had made her hotter than the kitchen fires, and she’d tiptoed out of the room.
Sure, she’d had her share of lovers. She simply hadn’t ever shared her bedroom experiences with anyone, not even with Amber, her best friend in college. Her parents had made it clear that sex was a private matter to be shared only between the two parties.
Nessa hooked her arm, a regular occurrence throughout the day as the woman took the responsibility of looking after her seriously. “Come, we better get back to the bakery before the yelling starts.”
“The yelling?” She gave a token resistance to the tug on her arm. From what she could tell, it had already begun.
“Aye, the laird will yell at his brother. His brother will threaten to leave with King Robert. Then Torr will prove to Kerr he isn’t ready to fight for the king by some kind of challenge, and Kerr will walk away and bury his troubles in a willing woman.”
Nessa tugged harder, and she let her lead them back to the bakery where her new friend finally released her outside the open door.
“And this happens all the time?”
Nessa nodded before ducking into the building.
She shook her head. And people in the twenty-first century thought they were the only ones with dysfunctional families. She took a deep breath to calm herself, but it didn’t help. She had yet to discover how to use her own calming ability on herself. Nanatasis, who was a full-blooded Native American and TWI’s special-ability trainer, wanted her to work on it, explore it, but she had always considered herself an even-keeled person and didn’t see the need. Obviously, she was incorrect. Anxious to get away from the coming confrontation, she retreated into the bakery.
She had just mixed the oats and flour together for a batch of bannocks, which were essentially round, flat unleavened breads that once cut were the modern-day scones, when the pounding of hooves sounded through the open doorway as Kerr and his men reached the castle. The tension she sensed in the courtyard ratcheted up a notch and rattled her nerves. She wasn’t sure if it was because she’d grown up in a home with no raised voices or if it was due to her unique ability to calm people which had first manifested when she traveled back in time, but whatever it was, her jitters had her dropping the bowl of oats half on herself and half on the floor.
Nessa gave her an odd look, and she gave up. Physically, her body couldn’t handle the stress in the air. Either she had to find a place where she wouldn’t hear the coming confrontation, or she needed to stop it.
She stepped out of the bakery, and the scene before her did nothing to ease her. Torr grabbed Kerr’s horse by the reins. It reared up in defiance, but he held on, his biceps bulging with the strain.
“Let him go!” Kerr jumped from the animal’s back and yanked at his brother’s hold on the reins.
Torr abruptly let go and turned his fury on Kerr. “What were you about with none less than three men? Have you become addled?”
Kerr turned away from the horse and shouted back, standing eye to eye with his brother. “I went hunting for our meal. Though why I bother is God’s knowledge alone.”
Her ravaged nerves focused on the one most stressed by the situation, and drawn there, she quietly skittered around the angry men. Unable to resist the compulsion to calm, she touched the great horse’s flank with her palm. Its large head swiveled around, nostrils flaring. Ignoring the threat, she focused on hay and a warm stall, and most of all, simple silence. The horse’s breathing slowed, its large muscles loosened, and it nudged her shoulder with its head, breaking their contact.
She’d never calmed an animal before, and she raised her hand to stroke its majestic nose. That was when she noticed the silence wasn’t simply in her mind, but in the courtyard. Looking over her shoulder, she found both men staring at her, Kerr’s mouth open, Torr’s face split into a grin.
She swallowed hard. Behind the men, others had stopped what they were doing to stare at her. Great, Diana. Just what you aren’t supposed to do, draw attention to yourself. She’d have to brazen it out.
“What is it?” She directed her comment to the two brothers. If she wasn’t so concerned, she could have appreciated how handsome they were standing shoulder to shoulder.
Kerr closed his mouth and approached the animal. He was built like his brother, but with dark brown hair and a straight nose. Otherwise, he towered over her in the same exact confident manner. “Stoirm doesn’t allow anyone near him but me.” Kerr’s shock was touched with just a bit of hurt.
“I didn’t know.” She stopped petting the horse. “I just wanted him to be calm. He seemed so afraid.”
The horse nudged her shoulder again, and Kerr relaxed enough to give her a kind smile. “No matter, lass. I just wouldn’t want ye to get bit.”
She nodded, stepping back as he took the reins and led the horse toward the stable, his men following him. She turned toward the bakery, but found the laird standing in her way, his great arms crossed over his chest and his face filled with curiosity.
Oh, Shakespeare, this wasn’t good. She needed to blend in. She should have stayed in the bakery. She didn’t want to know this man or for him to know her.
“Diana, it would appear ye have more talents than baking.”
She flushed. This focus on her wasn’t good for history. They needed to discuss him, so she ignored his comment. “Why do you become so angry with your brother when he hunts?”
Torr dropped his arms to his sides as his face hardened. “He takes unnecessary risks. There are few of us enough as it is.”
“You worry about him.”
His hands clenched. “I worry about everyone in my clan.”
But he was afraid of losing Kerr in particular because he was the last of his family. “Some more than others.”
His body grew rigid and his breathing loud, but he remained silent as he looked off at the mountains, unwilling to agree with her. The pain reflected in the taut lines of his face made her catch her breath.
She had no right to force him to see why he caged Kerr. It was for him to work out or not as history would tell. Still, she owed him comfort at least. After all, he had offered the same to her last night. She laid her hand upon his bare arm. It was like granite beneath her fingers and she struggled for calmness, focusing her own attention on the mountains, their beauty and soft rounded peaks, letting the peace flow from her to him.
He broke the contact, but she sensed his lessening tension. “I must ready myself for the challenge.” He nodded once. “Diana.”
She watched as he strode back into the castle, hopeful he would give his brother space, but not convinced she’d done any good. Then again, that wasn’t why she was here. What he decided to do in his remaining days was his choice.
She needed to focus on her task, which at the moment was making bannocks. Luckily, old Arthur’s telepathically transmitted information included the recipe, because from what she’d gathered, they were a staple. She cast a glance toward the forested mountains before meandering around a hay cart and back toward the bakery. She was three steps from the door when another man stepped into her path.
Startled, she halted, barely stopping from dropping into a fighting stance, her own expertise hand-to-hand combat.
“I be sorry, lass. I did not mean to frighten ye.”
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly as she studied the man smiling at her. Great. Just what she needed. More attention. “I’m afraid I didn’t see you.”
He nodded, condescendingly. “It can take time to adjust to a new home. I’m Douglas MacPherson and I am also settling in. I arrived at Gealach Castle a few weeks ago. Me clan is farther west, but it’s crowded there. I heard the laird could use a few strong men.” The man puffed his chest and crossed his arms, flexing his biceps.
He obviously thought a lot of his physical abilities. She examined him. He had jet-black hair down to the nape of his neck while the rest of Torr’s men had hair much longer. He wasn’t exactly handsome, though unlike Torr, he had a straight nose, but his gray eyes were set wide apart. It was his thin lips and very high cheekbones which made her think of an elf. What she didn’t understand was why he wished to talk to her. “I see. Are you pleased you came here?”
“I am, especially now that I have met ye.”
She stifled her groan. She was no more attractive than any of the other women here. In fact, many of them were much more noticeable. Her pale blond hair and average features were nothing to zero in on. She mentally kicked herself. She shouldn’t have helped the horse. “I am flattered you say so, but I am here because I lost my parents recently, and I just wish to belong to another family.”
He nodded again. “I understand. This is a good clan with a loyal man at its head, and many who will welcome you. I welcome you.”
Though his smile was genuine, it made her uncomfortable. Feigning shyness, she looked at him through lowered lashes. “Thank you.”
“I will leave ye to your chores then.”
As the man strode away, she watched him. If he was looking for a bedmate, he was sniffing around the wrong skirts.
She shrugged. Better to leave it alone and go back to work for now. Nessa would give her a “scold” if she didn’t have those bannocks made in time for dinner.
…
“But, Nessa, how am I supposed to get these baked if we keep leaving the building?”
Her friend’s tug on her arm grew stronger. “Don’t put that batch in. Make haste. Everybody is watching this.”
She chuckled. She couldn’t help it. Nessa was so energetic about everything she did, that Diana found herself smiling half the day long. She shook her head and grabbed a cloth with her free hand to clean up as Nessa pulled her outside again. “Slow down. I’m sure…” She shut her mouth as Kerr joined them.
“Diana, I wish to speak with ye.” Kerr’s stern face was not a good sign.
Nessa stopped them. “Of course. But don’t take too long. The challenge will start soon.”
Kerr nodded, and Nessa trotted toward the training yard.
She swallowed. Had she broken a taboo about a man and his horse that maybe old Arthur hadn’t known about?
Kerr faced her. “I wanted to thank ye for calming Stoirm earlier. One of my men said he was close to landing on a nearby cart and could have injured himself. I dinna think I truly appreciated what ye did at the time.”
Relieved, she took a deeper breath. “I just hated to see him so agitated.”
“Nay, ye don’t understand.” Kerr looked away for a moment before meeting her eyes again. His blue ones, so much like Torr’s, revealed a depth of feeling she hadn’t seen from anyone yet. “Besides Torr, Stoirm is the only family I have left. He is important to me.”
She studied this younger brother, the man who would turn berserker and wipe out so many of the enemy. She could believe it, based on his build, but he was too young for such heartache, and she cringed inside at the loss he would soon face. “I’m glad I could be of help to you.”
He nodded once and made to leave, but she couldn’t resist. “Why do you do it?”
He halted and faced her. “Do what?”
“Go hunting with only three men? You know it’s dangerous.”
The smirk that formed on his lips revealed his youth and his devilish side. “Because it riles my brother’s strict control, and because he needs to learn I can take care of myself as well as my men.”
She looked askance at him. “That doesn’t seem fair to the laird.”
Kerr turned serious. “I would do anything for him, and he for me. Fair? Maybe not. But harmful? I think not.” His grin returned. “Shall we join the others?”
She sighed, but nodded, and they walked to the large circle of people that had formed around the king and Torr.
Kerr moved off to gather on the opposite side with the rest of the men while she found Nessa. The woman pulled her in between her and another young lady. “Dinna they both look grand?”
She turned her attention to the center of the circle and had to agree. Both King Robert and Torr had taken off their leines and wore some kind of leather wrap about their hips. It reminded her of a man coming out of the shower with a towel around him. The king tied his shorter hair back, but Torr’s remained loose, past his shoulder blades. It gave him a barbaric look. The two men stood close, talking, probably agreeing on the rules.
She took the opportunity to study the rest of the clan since everyone was there. She had expected one side of the circle to have more people crowded around than the other, but it was a perfect ring of individuals, reminding her of kindergarten class. How strange. Definitely a tidbit Arthur would like to know. He had a unique ability to catalogue facts, figures, words, and images in his mind and then transfer them to an agent. But he could only glean information from what was available, and on many missions, she and her sister agents discovered simple facts about daily life that were never saved in mankind’s databases.
She continued her perusal of the clan. A few men had not quite made the circle yet. They stood casually talking, perhaps joking, but from the body language, they were all in accord, except one. The man named Graham, another recent newcomer to the clan, appeared awkward, like he tried too hard to fit in. He was thin, wiry, and had jerky movements. Brought here by a Disruptor? He’d only been with the clan five weeks or so. How long would a Disruptor need someone to be involved? TWI generally sent agents in only two weeks ahead of time to keep the chances of changing history to a minimum.
A petite woman caught her eye simply because of her lack of movement. Was she nervous? Could she be the Disruptor?
Thanks to Nessa’s consistent chatter, she had learned the petite woman was named Mairi and had joined the clan six months earlier when she married Braigh. Would the Disruptors marry someone from a different time period just to change history? It had never occurred to her since neither she nor her sister agents would do such a thing. But if Disruptors were fanatics, they very well could. None of the TWI agents had yet to identify a Disruptor. So far, all of her own assignments had landed her among large groups whether it was the early suffragette movement of 1848 in America or the busy streets of Madrid, Spain, in 1920, making it impossible to narrow down the culprit of the historical change.
“Our king is a fine man, is he not?” Nessa’s comment interrupted her musings, and she brought her gaze back to the combatants. King Robert was quite broad, though not quite as tall as Torr. And while Torr’s hair burned red in the sunlight, the king’s remained a deep brown, which matched his well-trimmed beard. Of course, he was older than Torr, but almost as well muscled. And he was handsome in a refined way, but she found her gaze resting on the laird. His chest was huge and supported by a weightlifter’s dream six-pack. She found herself hoping his wrap would reveal a bit more.
What was she thinking? She needed to focus on the reactions of those who had not been with the clan for long. Of course, if the Disruptor appeared just before the battle, or during the battle, she would have to stop her from saving Torr. Would a woman Disruptor dress as a man? That would be hard to pull off in this setting, but it also might reveal who she was before she traveled out. Diana clamped her teeth together to still her excitement. This assignment might actually reveal who the Disruptor was if she kept her eyes open.
“They be starting!” Nessa’s loud whisper sounded just before the men’s swords rang out.
She’d seen duels fought with rapiers, but had never witnessed broadswords in action, except for when using them in her own training. Javier had made sure each agent was proficient in all types of combat and helped her hone her own specialty.
She couldn’t take her eyes off the combatants as their muscles bunched and strained in an effort to wound each other. The legend of Beowulf came to mind, and she groaned low in her throat. There was really no winner in that story.
Torr went on an offensive, and the king fell back toward the men’s side of the circle. They quickly divided, allowing the king to break through with no one harmed.
The fight slowly traveled back toward the center, but remained on the far side. The two men appeared evenly matched, but having trained with Javier she recognized their differences. Torr was stronger, breathed more easily, and placed his sword where he wanted it, his muscles no more than a continuation of his brain. Javier, who was former Special Forces, would have approved of Torr. Despite Javier’s ability to sense muscle triggers in his opponent before the muscle actually moved, he still might be seriously challenged by Torr.
The king, on the other hand, threw a burst of energy forward with every offensive strike, and though effective, the technique took a toll on his breathing. She also noticed his weight was often on his heels, never a good place for it to be. She could hear Javier in her head. “Balls of your feet. Ready to strike,” his litany something she could recite in her sleep. Too many times had he caught her unawares in a hall or by the pool. No matter how she fought him, he always won, saying, “Not bad, chica, but not good, either.” To keep her motivated, he could have at least made it a draw, similar to what it appeared Torr was doing.
Her admiration for Torr grew as he matched the king’s speed even though it slowed just a bit. Did others notice? She let her gaze scan the circle. All were enthralled with the fight. It was difficult to gauge reactions, especially as everyone shifted a bit as the fight changed direction. The two men circled and swords clanged as Torr backed toward her and Nessa. With a spin, he suddenly faced them, the king’s back to them.
At such a close range, the sweat on the torsos of both men could be seen as it beaded on chests and backs. Torr raised his sword. She enjoyed the sight as his pectorals bunched, biceps rose, and abs tensed. When he brought it down for a deadly thrust, Robert stepped aside and Torr’s momentum sent him through the crowd and tripping as he fell forward onto the ground.
She was grateful to her training for getting her out of the way fast enough, but Nessa wasn’t so lucky. She stumbled back a step before landing on her butt.
Torr rolled over only to be stopped by the king’s sword at his throat. Though he lay on his back, he grinned. “It would appear you have proven me wrong.”
Robert, obviously winded, nodded once before taking the sword away and offering his hand.
She stared. That was it? It didn’t make sense. The king had made a fateful error by stepping between Torr’s sprawled legs, a position which allowed the fallen warrior to easily take advantage by crossing his legs and toppling his opponent. In addition, Torr still held his sword in his hand and could have, with his telling speed, knocked Robert’s away from his throat.
Torr took the king’s offered hand and stood. Everyone cheered.
Had this been staged?
Torr turned to Nessa and helped her up in turn. “I’m sorry, lass. Are ye hurt?”
She brushed off her skirts. “Nay, I be—”
“I will take care of her, laird.” Evan’s sudden appearance from across the yard said a lot for his interest in Nessa.
Diana smiled.
As Torr turned back toward Robert, he winked at her before giving his attention to his liege.
He winked? She looked over where Nessa had been. Evan walked her away from them all, his arm around her waist, earnestly talking.
The laird had done that on purpose! She studied Torr as he took a ribbing from his men while Robert was given water. This had all been a show. She was sure of it now. Respect filled her at the shrewdness Torr MacPherson displayed. He put aside his own ego to help his king keep the faith of his followers.
Clan MacPherson was lucky to have him as their laird. Her chest tightened. But soon they wouldn’t. Her eyes stung, and for the first time, she didn’t like her job at all. Sure there were challenges with every assignment, but this… It had to be because of the small number of people involved. She was too close, already knew too much about everyone’s lives, and she’d only been with them twenty-four hours.
The only way she could complete this mission was to distance herself and focus on the Disruptor. With so few people as possible suspects, and with the possibility the Disruptor still hadn’t arrived yet, she had a very good chance of determining who it was…for a change.
With both her resolve and her goal firmly in place, she turned away from the celebrants, strode past the well and toward the bakery. She needed to talk to Ian, Mairi, Douglas, and Graham. That covered all newcomers for the past six months, according to Nessa. It concerned her that only one was female. If none of them made her question their motives, she would simply wait for the Disruptor to appear. If she could find that person before the battle, she may just be able to get herself out of Scotland, back to her own time ahead of schedule, and not have to witness the demise of a good man.