Binding Vows (15 page)

His mother’s words stopped him from going to her when she went weak from hunger. Lora assured him Tara was drinking enough broth to survive, and told him she needed time to sort out her feelings. He risked her running away again if he cornered her now. And next time, he might not be able to stop her.

So instead of doing what he thought was best, he sat with his drink and, along with her, refused to eat.

****

Lora entered the room with little more than a whisper. Tara, dressed in the shorts and tank top, sat in a chair pulled over next to the window. Her legs were tucked under her, and her head rested on the tall back of the wooden chair.

Her pale features worried Lora. It was time to pull Tara out of her depression.

She walked up behind her, yet Tara didn’t take 123

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notice. Nor did she notice when Lora set a tray of food down and took a seat.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Slowly, Tara moved her eyes, glanced over to her, and then continued to stare over the green rolling hills. “Yes.”

“Have you ever been to Scotland before?”

“No.”

Always patient, Lora gave pause between each question, each statement. “My sons tell me your California is hot and dry. This must be very different for you.”

“It is.”

Lora poured some tea and brought it to her.

When Tara took it out of politeness, but didn’t bring it to her lips, Lora thought it best to rile her enough to bring some fight back. She had overheard much of the argument Tara and Duncan had the first day.

The woman sitting in front of her resembled little of the fiery lady her son had brought home. “He is riddled with guilt.”

“Good.”

A spark. Lora sensed it. “If there was any other way he wouldn’t have brought you here.”

Tara sighed. “Mrs. MacCoinnich...”

“Call me Lora.”

“Lora, if you’ve come in here to defend your son, or his actions, you’re wasting your breath.” She sipped the tea with a trembling hand.

“I was quite angry at him when he told me his tale.” Lora brought the bread and cheese over and pulled her chair closer. “Duncan was always one to act on impulse, no matter how hard I tried to get him to think everything out more thoroughly.” She buttered the bread, handed Tara a piece, and broke off a small amount for herself.

“He certainly didn’t think this one out.” Tara absently nibbled on the bread in her hand.

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Smiling, Lora went on, “Nay, he didn’t. What’s done is done however, and there is no way to reverse it.” “Are you sure?” Tara washed down her bread with more tea. “That there is no way I can go back?”

“Not safely. Your return would mean death to you.”
Both of you
, she thought.

Tara ate in silence and continued to stare out the window. Lora saw her watching children playing with a puppy in the distance.

“I had a life you know.” Her eyes swelled with tears. “I was almost finished with school. I was going to be a nurse. I shared an apartment with my best friend, Cassy. We were going to celebrate our graduation by going to Europe. Cassy will think I’m dead. She’ll blame herself for convincing me to go to the Ren’ fair.”

Tara wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

“Oh, God,” she sobbed. “I was going to help my sister who is raising my nephew by herself. Help her, so she could go back to school.” A choking sob burst from her lips.

Lora placed a gentle hand over Tara’s in a form of comfort in her grief.

Grief for a life she would never live.

Grief for the family she would never see again.

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Chapter 11

Light. Searing bright light pummeled the back of her eyelids. She lifted her hand shielding the rays from hitting her full force.

Lora’s voice filled the room as much as the sunshine. “It is the most beautiful of days, Tara. In fact I don’t think I’ve seen one much better.” She stood by the drapes she had pulled open.

Lora came to the edge of the bed and sat. Tara whipped her hand across her face trying to shake the sleep from her head. She’d slept peacefully. Better than any of the other four nights since she’d arrived.

“Please, Lora. I’m not even awake yet.”

“Nonsense! You can’t confine yourself to this room any longer. I absolutely forbid it!” Lora smiled.

“Besides, flaunting yourself in front of my son will bring him much more pain than hiding in here all day long.”

“You think so?” Tara liked the sound of pain and Duncan in the same sentence.

“I know so!” Lora bounced off the bed like someone half her age. “First, we need to heat up this room. Even with the sun shining, our summers are nothing like yours.” Lora strode to the fireplace, tossed a small log on it, and then turned her hands up. Flames leapt where none were before.

“How do you do that?” Tara asked, stunned to see the wonder of magic again. “I tried it myself. All I got was tired.”

“Practice my dear and a bit of skill I suppose. I’ll teach you.” She opened the door and allowed the 126

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maids to enter. “Let’s get you ready for your day.”

A couple of young men carried a trunk into the room. Inside the trunk, were several gowns, which paled anything she wore in the twenty-first century.

One by one, the maids sorted them into piles.

Some needed alterations. Some were simply not the right color for Tara and her auburn hair. They finally settled on the one she would wear for the day.

The maids made quick work of the needed alterations. Within the time it took Tara to bathe, brush out and dry her hair, they had completed the dresses.

The gown she chose was made of cotton and wool. The dark umber color blended beautifully with her hair and a hint of gold along its edges gave it a sense of elegance normally saved for special occasions. Tara had to admit the dress was stunning.

Eat your heart out, Duncan.
She let the thought escape when she saw her reflection in the mirror.

Pleased, Lora led her from the room.

The meal which broke the family’s fast was beginning when they entered the dining area.

Ian, knowing what Lora was up to, sensed their presence before they came in the room. Fin took notice and dropped his food midway to his mouth.

The others at the table sized up the woman who had caused so much talk and tension in the Keep.

Duncan, the last to realize something was amiss, turned only when everyone else grew silent.

Lora’s hand on Tara’s arm kept her focus. “Tara, I want you to meet the family. Amber is the youngest at ten.” Amber stood and made a quick curtsey.

“Cian, who is trying not to drool in his food, is ten and six years of age.” Cian sent his mother a wicked glance before coming to his feet and bowing at the waist. Tara started to squirm under the family’s stare.

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“Myra, our oldest daughter, is twenty and one last spring. I’m sure you both will get along well.”

Myra stood, but instead of a bow, she tilted her head and smiled. “’Tis a pleasure to finally meet ye, I mean you.” Her glance to her mother told Tara the line was rehearsed. But her effort was sincere.

“Of course, you’ve already met Finlay and Duncan.”

Fin opened his mouth only to be cut off. “I’m not ready to talk to you,” Tara interrupted. He wasn’t without blame in the whole ordeal.

Tara’s eyes traveled to Duncan. His face sported a look of awe and a five o’clock shadow.

“What is this?” Tara touched her own jaw, indicating the growth of beard he had managed since she had seen him last.

His hand reached out and scratched the growth.

“I normally have it when I’m not...traveling.”

It was a bit sexy, but she blocked the thought from her mind. “I guess some might like that
Brad
Pitt
look.”

“Who is this, Brad Pitt?” Duncan asked.

“No one you would know.”
No matter, you won’t
be close enough to scratch my skin.
She cleared her throat, more confident by the second. “Have you heard of a shower, Duncan? Oh, that’s right. Indoor plumbing hasn’t been invented yet. Just one of the many pleasures you ripped from my life.” She accepted the nod of approval from Lora. “You smell like a tavern. Maybe your mother won’t tell you to give her respect at her table, but I will.”

Duncan’s younger siblings tried in vain to hide their mirth. Even Ian couldn’t hold in his laugh.

Although her words were meant to sting, Tara sensed a weight lifting from Duncan’s shoulders.

Their connection was so fierce, she nearly sighed when his mouth lifted into a small grin.

“Tara is right,
Mathair,
” he said to his mother in 128

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Gaelic. “I could use fresh water and a change of clothes.”

Lora said nothing, and everyone watched as the eldest son left the room. Only when the women took their seats did the men sit down.

The conversation flowed after that.

Except for Finlay, who stared, with a smirk on his face and a twinkle in his eye.

****

Duncan, on the other hand, struggled with the decision to shave his skin bare. He had done so before his journey, knowing he would blend more with the people. Now, he saw his reflection and heard Tara’s voice vowing she wouldn’t get close. He turned his blade over in his palm and considered his options.

He took his bath, replaying Tara’s words in his mind. Her mere presence in the dining hall brought a smile to his face. He knew the pall hanging over their relationship had lifted slightly.

While water cooled around him, his eyes drifted down. Sleep was easy once he no longer sensed Tara’s desire to leave. ****

She didn’t think it possible to adjust to Medieval Scotland. But adjust she did, and in a short amount of time.

About the time Tara would be settling into a new routine of classrooms and clinical work at a hospital, she was in a different type of school.

The school of the MacCoinnich clan.

As promised, Myra and Tara fell into a friendship more like a sisterhood. Myra was fascinated by Tara’s stories of the twenty-first century. Her mind craved knowledge. She longed to know what the future would look like.

Tara spent her time observing everyone’s behavior. She learned what was expected, what was 129

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proper, and what was not. Myra was Tara’s personal sixteenth century encyclopedia.

The women wore dresses all the time. This wasn’t a surprise to her, but getting use to it was.

She longed for the simplicity of t-shirts and shorts.

When she was alone in her room at night, she would slip into her twenty-first century clothes.

“Why do all of these men bow to your father?”

Tara asked Myra while they watched the men train.

“My father is Laird over this land.”

“What does that mean? Is he like a King or something?”

Myra laughed. “He might think he is at times, but nay. My father is the authority here, he and my brothers.”

“Who gave him that title?”

“I suppose you could say it was his father, but in reality he earned it himself. My father has defended this land from the men who would take it. Although the sieges of the past are not as frequent of late.”

Tara turned a worried look over to Myra. “Are you saying that at any time anyone could come along and take all of this from you? All they would have to do is fight you for it?”

Myra attempted a smile. “Aye. But don’t worry.

My family is strong. The men here would fight to the death to keep it from being occupied by another.”

But Tara did worry. Being under siege might sound mysterious in a novel, but in her new reality it didn’t seem the least bit romantic.

Myra explained that the people of the village depended on the MacCoinnich’s for direction and safety. Ian and Lora would often council the population. And when needed, act as judge and jury to their troubles.

“How do you get used to all the people?” Tara rested her leg on a bench. “I can’t go anywhere without running into someone.”

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“It was worse before my brothers started their journeys in the future. It was common for the knights and squires to spend their days and nights in the main hall.”

“All of them?” Tara stared down at over two dozen men in the yard. All of them heaving heavy swords and sweating. Duncan’s sweat didn’t bother her, but the others... “I hope they bathed.”

“They didn’t!”

“Yuck!”

Myra chuckled. “It was quite horrible at times.”

“I should be grateful I arrived when I did.”

“My father needed privacy for this family, because of who we are. If you were to visit our neighbors in the North you would find their halls filled with men.”

“These men here don’t mind that they are treated differently?”

Myra nodded. “I think they prefer their privacy, as much as we do.”

Tara scratched the nose of one of the dogs who prattled around after her. “What do they know about me?” “That you are under Duncan’s protection.”

“Ha,” Tara scoffed.

Myra went on, “They think you are distraught from the loss of a family member. They’ve been told to avoid approaching you at this time. Your accent will be difficult to explain. Even if you came from a neighboring village your speech wouldn’t be as different as it is. You must keep who you are from them.”

“I know. Your mom told me.”

“It wouldn’t hurt if you tried saying a few things as we do, aye and nay perhaps.”

Tara smiled and took Myra’s hand. “Now don’t ye be worrying about me, lassie. I can hold me own.”

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Irish. I think it best you keep to your own accent. We wouldn’t want the men to think you a spy.”

Tara laughed.

Myra got up to leave. “I need to see to Amber and her studies. Would you like to join me?”

Tara skimmed her eyes over to Duncan and Fin who faced each other off. “I’ll stay here if you don’t mind. I could use a little time alone.”

Myra nodded and went off.

Duncan and Finlay were quite literally, brothers in arms. They taught and exercised their fighting skills daily. Neighboring knights and their ladies sent their sons to train with them.