The Mammoth Book of Time Travel Romance (7 page)

BOOK: The Mammoth Book of Time Travel Romance
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Grabbing what purchase she could on the ragged stones, she chased after him. “Why not?”

He stopped two steps below her and turned, his long broad sword sheathed in a simple leather scabbard strapped to his back scraping stone. Standing at eye level, he frowned as he studied her.

God, he’s magnificent.

Standing well over six feet tall, heavily muscled, blue eyed and blond, he wasn’t handsome in the classic sense, but definitely arresting. His chiselled features were almost gaunt. And that scar running from his left cheekbone to his jaw. The wound hadn’t been stitched but had healed on its own, drawing the left corner of his lips up, giving him a permanent smirk. As if he knew a secret he wasn’t about to tell.

He fingered one of the curls draped around her shoulders, startling her. “Ye are most fair and fulsome, lass. Without a clansman to guard ye, ye’ll be harassed, if not claimed. Ye and yer bairns.”

Had he just called
her pretty?
She couldn’t be sure. Chaucer and his ilk’s writings hadn’t been her strong suit in college. “But we wouldn’t be alone. You’ll be with us.”

Left to her own devices within the dense woods below, bracketed by hills and ravines, she’d lose her bearings. He had to guide them.

He started down the steps again, his broad shoulders rolling with each step. “Nay, I shan’t.”

As they stepped into sunshine she grabbed his thick forearm bringing him to a halt. “Why not?”

His right hand covered hers. “Look at me, mistress. ’Tis obvious I’m a warrior. Should I be caught I’ll be forced to my knees and they’ll demand I swear fealty to Malcolm … or die.”

“Is he your enemy?”

“Kith but I’ll slit my throat before swearing fealty to another errant hedge-born mammon.”

She shook her head. “I don’t understand. If he’s kith, a friend—”

“Mistress, unbridled avarice has nay friends. I – and thousands more – lost all we held dear thanks to one such liege. I say never again.”

Good Lord. “Do you never go to Edinburgh then?”

“I go on rare occasion. But only whilst in the guise of a leper to keep them at bay.” MacDuff brought her hand to his lips. “My apologies, lass.”

As her heart stuttered, he strode towards her students, who sat in only their briefs before his stone hut. She followed, asking, “We’re in Scotland. How is it that you speak English?”

“My mother’s people fled the south to escape the Norman invader.”

“And your father?”

“A Highlander.” Coming abreast of her students he asked, “Have ye had yer fill, lads?”

She should hope so. They’d decimated the huge mound of oatcakes, honeycomb and berries MacDuff had set before them. How they’d managed to eat so much was beyond her. Her stomach was still in knots, had been since the explosion. When they nodded, their host grunted and strode towards their clothing which they’d draped on branches to dry in the sun.

While Hamish MacDuff frowned and fingered Velcro closures and zippers, Mark Gibson asked, “Does he have a car? Will he take us back to Edinburgh?”

She squatted before them. “Gentlemen, I hate to tell you this but we’re miles from Edinburgh and there is no car.” She took a deep breath and related as best she could what she knew and what she feared.

Peter jumped to his feet. “No way! I have a soccer match this weekend. This is all bullshit.”

Before she could admonish him, MacDuff was at her side and had Peter by the upper arms, holding him at eye level.

“Laddie,” MacDuff snarled, one hand moving to Peter’s jaw, “heed well for I shan’t spake of this but once. Spaniel is a lady and ye shall treat her as such.”

Fearing he’d snap Peter’s neck, she grabbed MacDuff’s arm. “Put him down!
Please.”

Ignoring her, MacDuff hissed, “Do ye ken me, lad?”

Peter, white faced, nodded. MacDuff
humphed,
opened his hands and Peter, gasping, fell to the ground. Sarah dropped to her knees and checked the red marks beneath Peter’s jaw. “Are you all right?” When Peter nodded she snarled, “MacDuff, you could’ve killed him!”

MacDuff, standing with legs splayed, hands fisted on his hips, shook his unruly sun-streaked mane. “Nay. He appears a good lad for all his ratsbane of a tongue.” To the others he said, “Who among ye best wields a sword?”

Mark, turning pale, raised a tentative hand. “Uhmm … I’m on the fencing team.”

MacDuff eyed him then, apparently satisfied, asked, “Who best tends coos?” When they looked at him blankly, he pointed to the three shaggy, long-horned beasts grazing beyond the pool. “Who kens those?”

When they all raised hands, MacDuff pulled a rough-hewed bucket from a peg imbedded in his stone croft’s wall and tossed it to Ty. “Dress then milk, laddie.”

Apparently deciding it was wiser to obey than admit he’d never milked in his life, Ty elbowed Bryce. “Come on.”

Sarah whispered to the other boys, “Gentlemen, why don’t the rest of you get dressed.” She had to speak to MacDuff. Alone.

They took off at a dead run as MacDuff settled on his haunches to pick up the remains of the boys’ lunch. “What say you, Spaniel? Do you stay or go?”

She folded her arms across her chest and glared at him. “You can’t manhandle children that way.”

His eyebrows shot together as he came to his feet. “Is it not the rule of clan and church to discipline in a parent’s absence? Ye told the lad three times within my hearing – and God only kens how many more times without it – to mind his tongue and he had yet to pay ye any heed.”

“Yes, but—”

He leaned forwards and tapped the tip of her nose. “Nay
buts,
mistress. Ye want them to grow into good men who respect women, aye?”

She heaved a sigh. “Yes, of course. But please don’t pick him up like that again.”

MacDuff grinned. “Ye’ll find I shan’t have need. He’s learned his lesson.”

“And please don’t call me Spaniel.”

“Oh? ’Tis what the lads shouted when they could not find ye.”

“My name is Sarah.”

“Why then do they call ye Spaniel?”

Bone weary, she settled on the grass and tucked the huge, coarse linen tunic reeking of male musk, sawdust and smoke that he’d loaned her about her legs. “They think I look like one.” When his brow furrowed, she said, “A spaniel is a spotted hunting dog.”

Laughing, he sat down next to her. “Ye have bonnie brown eyes and charming spots upon yer cheeks, but without a long snout and tail I have to say nay, ye do not.”

“Thank you.”

He studied the boys for a moment. “Ye call them children, not bairns. Are they of royal blood then?”

She watched Peter, Jeremy and Mark romp through the field as if they hadn’t a care. “In our world, yes.”

“And ye?”

“I’m their teacher. Well, one of them. The children often move from place to place. Our school, with its many branches in different cities, provides continuity, some measure of stability.”

“And where is yer world?”

Dare she tell him? Would he think the boys and her bewitched? “You won’t believe me.”

He grinned. “I believe there is more to life and this place than priests will allow.”

Didn’t she know it. “We live in London but in a different—”

“Nay!”
MacDuff had jumped to his feet and was pointing at Bryce and Ty who’d been peering beneath one of the long-coated cows. “Are ye daft, lads?” he shouted. “Them’s bollocks!”

Bryce straightened and looked over his shoulder. “Huh?”

MacDuff grabbed his crotch. “Bollocks!”

When the boys just looked at each other then shrugged, MacDuff raised his kilt and swung his hips. “These, lads!”

“Ohmigod, MacDuff! Stop that!”

MacDuff didn’t so much as glance at her as his kilt fell back in place and he pointed to the two hairy beasts grazing to the boys’ right. “Ye yank on
coos,
lads. Those with
teats
!”

Boyish hoots and laughter erupted on both sides of the field as understanding dawned and MacDuff blew through his teeth. Turning his attention to her, he said, “Two of yer princes were nearly knocked into the morrow. What have ye been teaching them that they have yet to ken the difference betwixt bullocks and teats?”

Aghast that he had the nerve to call
her
to task, Sarah shouted, “I can’t believe you just exposed yourself like that! Are you out of your mind?”

MacDuff looked at her blankly for a moment then laughed, a deep and rich rumble that rolled like thunder about the glen. When he finally collected himself he asked, “And what did my lady see?”

Heat flooded her cheeks. “Well, nothing – naught, but—”

He tapped her nose. “Then ’tis naught for ye to fash over, now is there? Men ken these things.” He pointed to Ty and Bryce in earnest conversation squatting beside a cow. “The quiet one has the look of ye about the eyes. Is he yer bairn?”

The man was impossible. “No, I have no children, and his name is Ty. He’s an orphan.”

MacDuff’s brow furrowed. “And the rest? Have they no parents as well?”

“The rest do have parents.” Parents, who are doubtless going out of their minds right now, listening to news broadcasts, punching cell phones, wondering why their children aren’t answering their calls, can’t be reached.

He bent and plucked a blade of grass. Chewing it, he eyed her in speculative fashion, the corner of his eyes crinkling. “Are ye not spoken for, then?”

“No.” Men rarely gave her a second glance. So why was he scrutinizing her so closely?


Humph. Ye’ve
slothful kin, then.”

“No, no kin, slothful or otherwise. My parents married late in life, never expected to have a child, then I came along. My father died when I was three and then my mother developed Alzheimer’s.” Seeing his frown deepen she clarified, “A disease that destroys the mind and then the body. She passed – died – last summer.” Which, although leaving Sarah bereft, had been a blessing for her mother.

“My sympathies.” To her relief he turned his attention back to the boys. “Ah, they’re done.”

A heartbeat later, Bryce and Ty, grinning from ear to ear, placed their bucket on the ground before her.

She was amazed to find it half full. “Wow!” They’d not known the difference between a bull and cow when they started. But them drinking raw milk was out of the question. Their parents would never forgive her if they came down with tuberculosis.

To MacDuff, she said, “Before they can drink it—”

“Drink it? God’s teeth, woman, why would ye have them do that?” He shuddered and grabbed the bucket. “Nay, ’tis for making crowdie. Come along, lads, we’ve much to do.”

Skipping to keep up with MacDuff’s long strides, Bryce asked, “What’s crowdie?”

As she said, “Cheese,” she heard MacDuff say, “Ye’ve not had crowdie?”

When they shook their heads MacDuff gave her another incredulous look then, leading the boys away, muttered, “’Tis a wonder any of ye live.”

Hamish looked about his crowded croft, at the exhausted lads curled in sleep on their pallets, and warmth bloomed in his chest. Far too many years had passed since he’d shared a meal or heard bairns laugh. Were it not so unmanly to shed tears, he would have.

He sighed. If only the Spaniel were as relaxed as the lads in his company.

She would have taken her brood off to Edinburgh had the lads, consumed with their fishing, not begged her wait just a wee bit. Thankfully, gloaming came early to his glen.

By the time the lads were done fishing, the sun was setting and they were hungry. Then the moon rose and the wolves of the forest started to howl, which proved too much for the lady and she agreed they should spend the night.

He reached out and ruffled Ty’s hair as the lad sat beside him carving a rabbit from a soft hunk of pine.

In a whisper Ty said, “We were at this pub when a bomb went off. Miss Colbert got us into the basement but it was flooded. Then we somehow ended up here.”

“What means bomb?” The Spaniel had said much the same but he’d been loath to admit to her that here was yet another thing he did not understand.

“A device made from gunpowder and metal that can kill hundreds of people all at once.” When Hamish continued to frown in confusion Ty crafted an imaginary ball in his hands, lobbed it, then saying
kaboooom,
fell backwards and feigned death.

Alarmed, Hamish pulled him upright. “Ye have such weapons?”

Ty, his brown eyes welling with tears, nodded. “My parents were killed by a bomb two years ago. Dad was a foreign diplomat.”

Hamish brushed a tear from the lad’s cheek. “My heart greets for ye, lad.”

“Mine, too.”

“Here ye may rest easy, lad. We have no such weapons. To kill ye must look a man in the eye as is only right.”

After a long moment Ty whispered, “Did she tell you that we come from centuries ahead of this time?”

Hamish nodded. “But ’tis difficult for me to give such wild tales credence.”

“You should because it’s true. You saw Peter and Mark’s iPods. We have loads more stuff than that. Like aeroplanes and computers. Stuff you haven’t even dreamed of yet.”

BOOK: The Mammoth Book of Time Travel Romance
8.12Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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