Scotsmans challenge, p.1
Scotsman's Challenge, page 1
Table of Contents
Excerpt
Scotsman’s Challenge
Copyright
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
A word about the author…
Thank you for purchasing
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“And why would you be wantin’ to bash my head in, lass?
We’ve ne’er met, so I doona think I could have offended you, even in my previously inebriated state.”
“Look, buster, I don’t know who you are or how you got in here, but this is my place. Now get the hell out!”
Erin winced at her shouted command and pulled himself up to a sitting position, then quickly cradled his pounding head in his hands. “There’s no need to scream at me. If in my drunken state last eve I wandered into your home, I can only apologize. But please, no more poking at me with your wee club and no more screamin’ down the rafters. I beg you.”
“Then—get—out,” she said, her voice low, but firm. The club she wielded, visible in his thin line of sight as he studied his feet, pointed ominously at the center of his kilt. He didn’t want to consider what a blow there might cost him, although he would likely cast up the contents of his stomach onto her fine rug as a start.
“I will more than gladly take my leave, if you would be so kind as to tell me where I am.”
He lifted his throbbing brow and looked at his tormentor, and fell still at the sight of her, his gaze now clear. No wonder she carried the club for protection. She was more than average pretty with hair the color of sunshine and eyes the verra shade of a fresh sprig of heather. So violet they were, he found it hard to look away, and for a few moments he forgot about his aching head and sour stomach.
Scotsman’s Challenge
by
Jo Barrett
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Scotsman’s Challenge
COPYRIGHT © 2018 Jo Barrett
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: info@thewildrosepress.com
Cover Art by RJMorris
The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708
Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com
Publishing History
First Fantasy Rose Edition, 2019
Print ISBN 978-1-5092-2559-0
Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-1200-2
Published in the United States of America
Prologue
Highlands 1614
Adam and Deidra crept into the solar as quietly as possible. They’d retired some time ago after the final of many grand celebrations of their nuptials and had made glorious love, but Adam was determined to do this thing tonight.
“Adam, do you think ’tis wise?” Deidra asked.
“You and I both know it’s what he wants. He’s letting his duty to The MacLean keep him here.”
“I know but—Da will be furious.”
He slipped his arms around her waist and rested his forehead against hers. “I wouldn’t consider doing this if I thought it would make your father angry. The man can still beat me to a pulp in the lists. But he and Aunt Tuck both know that Erin isn’t happy. Not with all that he knows about the future.”
Deidra pulled her head back and narrowed her gaze at her new husband. “You and my parents have already spoken of this.”
He grinned and pecked a kiss to her nose. “Aye, wife, I have. Both Colin and Tuck think that you and I can handle the clan when the day comes, leaving Erin to have the life he truly wants. You may be twins, but you inherited your father’s calling and skill at leading the clan MacLean, not Erin. As laird he’d do an okay job at it, but he’d be miserable. So he has to go.”
“To your time,” she whispered.
“You mean my former time.”
She looked down at her sleeping brother with a misty-eyed smile. “Good-bye, brother mine,” she whispered, then lifted her head and slid her arms around Adam’s neck. “You best be aboot your business, husband, for I am more than ready to return to our bed,” she said, and kissed him thoroughly, then slipped from his arms and left the solar.
Adam shook his head, still amazed that she loved him, that she’d married him. It even topped the fantastic fact that he’d traveled back in time to seventeenth century Scotland. He’d been making the trip since he was born, but not until recently did he realize it was actually true. He’d convinced himself it was just a trip to visit family friends who had a thing for reenactments. Never had he ever dreamed it was real, nor that his own father was a product of the time. A nobleman from hundreds of years before Adam was born. It scrambled his brain whenever he tried to make sense out of it.
He studied the bottle his mother had given him, filled with water taken on the solstice from a new spring his parents had found. That was when the water was magical, when it could transport a person to a different time. Just like the spring here on the Isle of Mull on MacLean land. However, this particular water his parents had discovered worked at any time and from any location, as long as it was gathered at the proper moment from the spring.
Even more astounding, it seemed to carry a person not only to the time they wished to go, but to different locals. All the traveler had to do was want it.
Adam shook his head, thinking how insane it all sounded. But crazy or not, he needed to share this gift with his brother-in-law and best friend. All he had to do was sprinkle some of the water on Erin’s feet and he’d be transported to where and when he most wanted to go. And Adam knew he wanted to go to Adam’s former time, the twenty-first century. The only question was, where would he land?
Adam’s mother and father had various theories on that, apparently an argument as old as their relationship about the spring that had brought Adam here only a month or so ago. But this water was different, and much more powerful. It was why they’d given it to him as a wedding present, so he could visit them in the future whenever he liked.
Adam grinned. He’d overheard Erin talking to Adam’s father about the future and his new sports car. There’d been no mistaking the sparkle in his friend’s eye at the prospect of speeding down a highway with the top down.
He knew Erin would be fine wherever he landed. After all, Erin’s own mother, Aunt Tuck, came from there. He would land on his feet and finally have what he wanted. Freedom to explore the future world without being forced to be laird one day of the clan MacLean. It was true that Deidra would make a better leader than Erin, but some society rules weren’t to be broken, except under certain circumstances. And in Adam’s hand was the perfect solution.
Without another thought, he popped the cork and sprinkled the clear water over the sleeping man’s feet and said a little wish, just to be safe. “Take him where he longs to be, where he needs to be, to where he’ll be happy in his life.”
Before he could stopper the bottle, Erin MacLean of the clan MacLean disappeared in a swirl of light from the lounge where he’d passed out from too much celebration.
With a grin, Adam carefully set the bottle on the mantel then went to rejoin his wife in their soft warm bed.
Chapter One
There was a nudging at his shoulder, but Erin brushed it away with a groan. He hoped to heaven that his father wasn’t wanting a bit of sword play this morn. He’d lose his head for certain in his current condition.
What had Adam called it? A hangover, aye, that is what it was, and he felt well and hung for certain.
The nudging was more insistent this time, but he swatted it away and muttered, “Leave off. Can you no’ see I’m dyin’?”
“You will be dead if you don’t get the hell off my couch.”
The voice was not one he recognized, and it had no sound of the Highlands flavoring the words. With caution and great pain, Erin opened one blurry eye to look upon a woman standing over him with some sort of club in her wee hands.
“And why would you be wantin’ to bash my head in, lass? We’ve ne’er met, so I doona think I could have offended you, even in my previously inebriated state.”
“Look, buster, I don’t know who you are or how you got in here, but this is my place. Now get the hell out!”
Erin winced at her shouted command and pulled himself up to a sitting position, then quickly cradled his pounding head in his hands. “There’s no need to scream at me. If in my drunken state last eve I wandered into your home, I can only apologize. But please, no more poking at me with your wee club and no more screamin’ down the rafters. I beg you.”
“Then—get—out,” she said, her voice low, but firm. The club she wielded, visible in his thin line of sight as h
“I will more than gladly take my leave, if you would be so kind as to tell me where I am.”
He lifted his throbbing brow and looked at his tormentor, and fell still at the sight of her, his gaze now clear. No wonder she carried the club for protection. She was more than average pretty with hair the color of sunshine and eyes the verra shade of a fresh sprig of heather. So violet they were, he found it hard to look away, and for a few moments he forgot about his aching head and sour stomach.
Those remarkable eyes narrowed as she studied his face, and he knew the moment she decided he wasn’t a threat.
“As I said, this is my place,” she said, lowering her club.
He glanced about the room and its fine furnishings. There was painstaking detail to the rug beneath his feet, benches covered with cushions so plush one might lose oneself in its comfort, and upon the numerous tables scattered about were odd statues donning strange shaped caps. The room overflowed with fixtures the likes of which he’d ne’er seen before, twisting his already uneasy belly.
With a firm swallow, he asked, “And where is your place?”
“For the love of—” She huffed and spun away, her club swinging dangerously close to his left knee.
She yanked open a drape and pointed to the snow covered world beyond. “You’re in Wyoming, just outside of Iron Horse to be exact, in—my—place.”
“Wyoming?” He rubbed his weary brow and rose to his feet. He couldn’t recall for certain, but a faint memory about the place being discussed by his brother-in-law came to mind. What he remembered most was that it existed in the U.S.—in the future.
The floor shifted a bit beneath him, and he latched onto the mantel above the fine stone fireplace for balance. The warmth spilling forth from the blaze didn’t touch the chill creeping along his spine.
How had he come to the future? All he could remember was celebrating his sister’s wedding. He’d been overjoyed to have Adam as his new brother and to see his sister happier than he’d e’er dreamed.
I did have a tankard or few too many, he thought. But to have been transported through time—to have been transported to a different continent was more than his weary brain could grasp at present.
“It canna be, and yet I am here,” he said, his head nigh on to spinning.
“Yeah, in my place,” the woman said. “Now get lost or I’m calling the cops.”
“Cops?” he muttered.
“Yeah, cops, police, bobbies…the law.”
He started to shake his head, then thought better of it, as her words penetrated his foggy brain. She spoke like Adam, so there could be little doubt that he’d traveled forward in time, but how had he traveled?
Before he could form another thought, his gaze caught on something spectacular sitting upon the mantel. It was a photograph. Adam had explained them to him once when he’d found an uncanny likeness of his friend among his future clothes. And the people in the photograph were no strangers to Erin. They were Adam’s parents, and Erin’s godparents, although he always called them aunt and uncle. They stood with their arms around one another as he had seen them do many times. Beside this wonder was another, one of Adam his arm around an old gentleman and a bright smile upon his face.
“Adam,” he whispered. Had he somehow done this thing? Had he sent him to the future? It was inconceivable that either of his parents would do such a thing. Not even his sister would toss his body into the clear spring, sending him forward in time, no matter the heinous pranks he may have committed upon her.
But Adam was different. And Adam knew how badly Erin wanted to see this world, if only for one brief moment before the day came when he took his father’s place as laird of the clan MacLean.
With a steadying breath, he looked over his shoulder at the woman. “Tell me true, lass. What be the year?”
“You have got to be kidding me,” she said, shaking her head.
“Nay, I only wish that I were.”
With an irresistible smirk on her face, and a hand on her hip, she said, “Twenty-nineteen.”
His legs grew weak for a moment, but he held firmly to the mantel.
She chuckled. “What’s the matter, Rip Van Winkle? Lose a few years in the bottom of a bottle somewhere?”
“Aye, something like that.”
He looked to the window, his unease changing to excitement at the wonders that lay beyond the clear span of glass.
“Thank you, my brother,” he whispered, and ignored the problem of how to get home once his visit was complete.
Turning to face the woman for a proper introduction, he caught sight of her tightening her grip on the club and bracing her feet. “I’ll no’ harm you. I swear it.”
“Good to know. Now—get—out.”
“Aye. This is your place.” A statement he knew could not be true, unless she was a friend of his god-parents and Adam, which would explain how she came into possession of the photograph. But his instincts warned him that was not the case.
The furnishings were fine, and the house appeared to be quite large, and there was his memory of his godparents speaking of this place. All of which boded the question of who was the fair woman standing before him ready to bash his brains in?
“Do you have a name, lass?”
“Yeah, it’s called none-of-your-business.”
He could not contain his grin, and with a courtly bow, he said, “I am Erin MacLean, of the clan MacLean. It is a pleasure to meet you, none-of-your-business.”
“Very funny. Now get lost!”
“No’ without a name.”
With a growl, she lifted her club and waved it in the air. “I ought to crack your thick skull, you stubborn Scot. You’re trespassing, comprende?”
He calmly reached for the photograph. “Are you certain? I could be this handsome couples’ guest, come to visit on this fine wintery day. Or mayhap this braw lad’s friend.”
“Don’t think I won’t use this,” she said, waving her club again, but her voice had lost its fire.
She was afraid. And that gave him pause. Whoever she was, he would wager that she did not belong here, but then neither did he. “Do you ken the couple in this small portrait and this man here?”
She twisted her lips then proceeded to nibble at the lower. He noted not only the lovely shape of them, but how her nibbling made him more aware of her beauty. Now was not the time to be thinking of courting, but he found it difficult to crush his attraction.
Although he’d had some experience with women, he’d not dallied over much with them. He knew that someday he might need to marry for the sake of an alliance, although his parents expressly forbade it. They’d married for love, as had his sister, and they wanted the same for him. But he was no fool. He knew he was not overly skilled at being a leader and suspected that a marriage to the right woman would be best for his clan. And the clan’s safety and prosperity were of the greatest importance. Not his feeble heart.
With a small breath, she lifted her chin. “Of course I do. But they’re no concern of yours.”
He admired her determination and wondered what she would do when she learned of his relationship to the Sutherlands. But he needed to know more about the woman with the striking violet eyes that reminded him of the highlands on a warm summer’s day, and why she was in his aunt and uncle’s home before he revealed too much. The future was a dangerous place, his mother had said. He must tread carefully. But the lass before him seemed no serious threat.
“I’ll wager you doona know who they are any more than I know who you are, sweeting.”
A glimmer of fear crossed her features as she took a subtle step backward and eyed the doorway to her right that led to some other room, and all likelihood a way out. That he could not allow. He not only needed to know why she was there, he needed someone to guide him through this world, for it was obvious his aunt and uncle were not about.
“I mean you no harm. I swear it on my life. I doona care whether you know these people or no’, but I need a place to stay at present. So I ask that we make a truce, you and I, for you see, I do know these people, and I also know that they wouldna wish either of us aboot in this weather.”
