Binding Vows (13 page)

105

Catherine Bybee

Her breath started to come in small pants. She closed her eyes and wondered if she was still asleep and dreaming.

Heavy drapes framed a window with no glass.

Shutters kept out some of the cold, but not much.

Tara raised a shaky hand and opened the wooden frames. “Oh my God,” she whispered. Rolling green hills, like she had never seen before, stretched out as far as she could see. Although it was morning, gray clouds blocked the sun and filled the sky with moisture.

Tara gaped down from where she stood and saw what had to be a three-story drop. To her right a stone turret pointed toward the sky with a flag of amber and black flying from the top.

She let the drape fall back in place and attempted to make sense of everything she saw.

A knot of panic took form in the back of her throat.

“Duncan!”

She screamed his name at the top of her voice.

Her strides took her to the door of her room. Mad as hell, she threw open the heavy wood and yelled his name again.

****

Tara’s voice bellowed through the Keep, just as the bulk of the story had been told. Duncan dared a look up the stairwell where he heard her cursing him. Fin laughed in the face of Duncan’s pain. “I don’t envy you, brother.”

****

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positive he heard her. She followed her instincts, and headed down another corridor.

“Duncan!” She wanted to add a very colorful expletive, but found herself at a loss. “Damn it, Duncan. I don’t even know your last name!”

A young girl peeked around a door. “Where is he?” Tara sniped at the child.

The girl shrank back and pointed down yet another hall.

Tara uttered her thanks and marched in the direction the child indicated. Her path led her to a small staircase emptying into a larger hall. Once there, she saw a light flickering and heard murmured voices below.

The main stairway into the great hall was massive. Five people could walk side by side and never so much as touch one of the others. It curved in an arc Tara hardly noticed as she flew down the steps in a fury.

Duncan sat with his brother and two other people, a man and a woman, near an enormous fireplace dominating the great room.

The dogs sitting at the base of the staircase stood, stared, and then scurried out of her way as she passed.

Duncan—” Dammit-to-hell, what was his last name? She wanted to throttle him.

“MacCoinnich, Duncan MacCoinnich,” he answered her unasked question.

“Duncan MacCoinnich, what the hell is going on? Where am I? How did I get here? And who put me in this?” She grabbed a handful of the material she wore as a nightgown.

He shifted his weight from one foot to another.

His look darted from her to the couple standing beside him. The older man held a smirk behind his hand. He wasn’t successful.

Ignoring her question, Duncan pointed out the 107

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others in the room. “Tara, I would like you to meet my parents, Lora and Ian. Da, Ma, this is Tara, the one I have been telling you about.”

Remembering her manners, Tara faced the others in the room as if seeing them for the first time. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both, Mr. and Mrs.

MacCoinnich,” she replied by instinct. Once the words came out, she realized who she was addressing.

“A pleasure,” Ian said, taking her hand in his and kissing it.

Her eyes didn’t leave Ian’s, but her head nodded in Duncan’s direction. “We need to talk!”

“Why don’t we find you something more suitable to wear before—”

Her eyes darted to him, cutting off his words.

“The last thing you need to think about right now is what I am wearing.” She rounded on him, ignoring everyone else. “The only reason you are still breathing is because I wouldn’t want your parents to witness your death!”

She plastered on a fake smile and glanced at the couple in question. “All due respect.”

Without giving Duncan a minute to consider her words, she turned back. “Talk!”

“On that score,” Fin said to no one in general,

“I’m sure there is some chore which needs tending.”

“Aye. Right you are son. Let me help.” Ian followed him out, calling the dogs that appeared all too happy to leave.

Duncan and Tara stared at each other while the men filed out of the room. Lora broke some of the tension. “Tara my dear, do leave a little skin on him so I have some to remove once you are finished.”

Lora gave her son a very un-sympathetic look.

Lora MacCoinnich lifted her small frame from her chair and crossed over to them. She waited until Tara glanced in her direction before she spoke again.

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“I look forward to getting better acquainted. Let me know if there is anything you need.” Lora left the hall. “Maybe we should sit,” Duncan said, stalling the inevitable.

Tara didn’t feel like sitting, but thought she should so he wouldn’t avoid his explanations any longer.

Tara took the seat his mother had vacated. She folded her hands in her lap in a display of calm she didn’t feel.

“I don’t know where I should start.” He took the chair opposite her.

A vision of Julie Andrews twirling on an Austrian hillside flooded her mind. “Start at the very beginning.”

“That might be more difficult to understand.”

Steam would surely begin puffing from her ears if he didn’t start talking. “Okay...Where am I?”

“My home, in Scotland.”

Tara stared up at the ceiling. It soared thirty feet or more above her and was made entirely of stone. Tapestries hung on the walls. The fireplace was so big it was possible she could stand up inside of it. “Because I can’t explain all of this, or what I saw outside my bedroom window, I’ll buy that.” She took a deep breath, “How?”

“The stones. Do you remember the stones last night?”

“I remember touching a rock, the glow. You and Fin turned on the others. Everything is fuzzy after that. I think there was an earthquake.”

“It does feel like the earth moves when the stones are working.”

“What are they?”

Duncan grinned, but her frown kept it from staying on his face long. “The stones are older than 109

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time. They were entrusted to our family for keeping.”

“And they are used to move people from one place to another?”

“Aye.”

“A few rocks moved me to Scotland overnight?”

“Aye, they did.”

Not quite believing, but not able to explain everything she saw the night before, Tara pushed on. “You told me I was in danger last night, and we had to hurry. Why?”

He explained again about Grainna being evil.

Only this time he told her Grainna would have killed them if they hadn’t left when they did.

Tara referred to her as a witch, a term Duncan didn’t deny. He told her of the curse binding Grainna in an old and powerless body. But when Duncan repeated a rhyme about Druids and Virgins, Tara’s head started to swim.

“Back up,” she told him when he wanted to continue. “
A virgin’s blood of Druid decent?
Grainna thought my ancestors were Druids?

“Aye.”

“Druids?” Tara shook her head, “As in ancient people with mystical powers?”

“Aye.”

She started to laugh. “That’s rich. Really rich!

My parents are from Orange County. Believe me, there is nothing mystical about Orange County.”

“That may be, lass, but you are of Druid blood,”

Duncan told her with a straight face.

“Just because my last name is McAllister, doesn’t mean I’m a Druid. Scottish yes, some, but Druid? That’s a stretch. My great grand parents immigrated to the states at the turn of the century like so many others. No one in my family ever had...

powers.” She shook her head in disbelief.

“Druids are private with their abilities, because 110

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they are often misunderstood and feared. They keep to their own and hide what they do.”

“How is it you know all of this?” Not that she believed any of it.

“I am Druid.”

This is bullshit!

Then how is it, love, we can read each other’s
thoughts?

“I don’t know. I can’t believe it’s because I’m a Druid. Or that you are.”

“You activated the stone last night by your own hand,” he reminded her.

“That can be explained. Maybe it was the heat of my hand that turned the stone on. Anyone could have done it, if that’s the case.”

Duncan stood and crossed over to the hearth.

The fire had burned down to an orange glow. “Fire is the first ability Druids have control over. It is the first they learn. The first to come and the last to leave.” He reached both hands toward the hearth, flames leapt three feet high and out of the embers.

“Oh my God!”

Duncan lowered his hands. The flames died in the hearth.

Air rushed from her lungs. She gaped at the man who she scarcely recognized from the days at the fair. “This is too much.” She stood and paced the room. “I don’t know what to believe.”

“Accept we are both Druid, and the rest will fall into place.”

Stressed, she ran her hands through her hair.

“Fine, I’ll play along. I’m a Druid. You’re a Druid.”

We are all Druids... I’m losing my mind.
“I’m a virgin of consensual age, and blood shed from the loss of my virginity would give Grainna her youth and powers, yadda, yadda, yadda. Do I have it right?”

“’Tis correct.”

“You and Fin were what, sent to California to 111

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stop her from finding me?”

“Or others like you.”

“Like there are hundreds of Druid virgins running around Southern California.” Tara laughed at the thought.

“Not hundreds, but a few. Most lack true Druid blood making Grainna’s curse almost impossible to break.”

Dear God, he’s serious.
“So, you whisk the young virgins away when you find them?”

“You are the first to come to our home.”

Tara sent him a questioning look. “If I’m the first one to come here, then how do you get them away from Grainna? You couldn’t leave them.

Otherwise, her curse would have been broken by now. How did you keep them away from her?”

He didn’t answer her question. He didn’t have to. A picture of the two of them, laying together and kissing, flashed in her head. Her eyes widened in panic, her mouth dropped open. “You have got to be kidding! You were sent to deflower the virgins?”

Tara’s laughter verged on hysteria. “Then why didn’t you?”

“I have never forced myself on a woman.”

“How noble of you. Really, you should be given a medal.” Anger overpowered her hysteria. “So, because I didn’t fall into bed with you, you brought me here. Where she can’t get to me? Is that it?”

Tears started to fall. And to think she liked this guy! Really liked him. All six foot four, two hundred plus pounds of him.

“Aye.” Duncan watched as her rage consumed her. “Fine,” she bit out before heading toward the stairs. “That’s just great.”

Duncan touched her arm to stop her. She shrugged him away. “Where are you going, Tara?”

“To get my things and get dressed. Now that 112

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you’ve had your laugh, you can send me back.” She put much needed space between them.

His eyes lowered to the floor. “I can’t.”

“Then you can drive me to the airport, and I’ll catch the next flight home.” She would have to max out her credit card paying for a flight, but she didn’t have much choice.

“’Tis not possible.” He dared another look at her.

“Why? Because I’m still a virgin? A threat? I’m sure I can find some stud willing to rid me of that, so don’t spend any more time worrying about me.”

His eyes snapped at hers in alarm. “Nay, Tara.

That
you will not do!”

She reached him in two strides. Her finger poked him in his chest with every word she spoke.

“Who do you think you are? It wasn’t your choice in California, and it isn’t your choice here.” She lifted her nightgown and fled his side.

Duncan reached her half way up the stairs. “You cannot leave.”

“Watch me,” she shouted at him and pulled away.

“There are no planes to take you home.”

“I realize your home is remote, but I’m sure I can find an airport somewhere.”

“No, you can’t. There are none.”

She dropped her hands at her side and released an exasperating sigh. “What are you trying to tell me? I’m tired of this game.”

“The stones do more than move you from one shore to another. They move you through time. Even if you could go back to America, there would be nothing there for you.”

She stopped, turned, and her eyes searched his.

“You can’t be serious?”

“Look around you, Tara. Is this a home of your century?”

She stopped struggling against his grasp and 113

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considered his question. She remembered how his mother was dressed. Her gown would have seemed perfect at the fair they’d left. Tara studied him now as if seeing him for the first time.

He had changed his clothes, but what he wore now was similar in fashion to what he had worn the past few days. The colors were more vivid, and the fit suited him better, but the shirt drifted beyond his hips, and his legs were covered in leggings appropriate in any Shakespearian play.

Tara took in the room, noticed the chandelier hovering above the great hall. The pulley attached raised and lowered it so candles could be lit before hoisting it overhead. No modern lights, no lamps, nor anything requiring electricity was visible.

Pale and trembling, Tara uttered her question with a barely audible breath. “What year is it?”

“1576.”

Blood dropped to her feet, and her head spun until she saw stars. Even when she was sure she would collapse, and he reached out to stop her from falling, she protested, “Don’t touch me!” Her words were cold and deadly. Her mouth gaped in disbelief.