Snowflakes in Summer (Time Tumble Series Book 1) Page 7

  She laughed, and I’ll admit it, the sound gladdened my heart. Then she did a most unexpected thing. She picked up my great paw of a hand and brought it to her lips.

  “Thank you,” she murmured, pressing her mouth against my palm in the gentlest of kisses.

  My blood bubbled like a cauldron of porridge. “And now it is only right that I thank you, too,” I said, lowering my lips to her cheek. I kissed her in a slow, chaste way—at least that was my intention. But the feel of her plump, perfect skin under my lips made my loins stir. My face flushed, the heat flooding up from my lower regions. She turned her head then, and that was her mistake. I am a man, after all. My lips found her mouth and then there was no stopping me. I kissed her softly at first but my hunger was too powerful, a monster of a thing. I pulled her toward me, and I confess, I forgot all about the bump on her head.

  Caitlin groaned when my hand found its way to her breast. If a girl wishes to calm a man, she must not groan. I kissed her deeper seeking her tongue, my fingers gliding across her curves. Caitlin moaned louder this time. Lord in clover. I pulled away and began my fight with the bindings on her clothing. There were altogether too many things to undo. I wished for my sharp blade so that I might slice through her tunic. How would she react if she saw me shredding her clothing, if she saw how urgent my need was? Best not do it.

  After an infuriating length of time, I had the girl unclothed. I had dreamed of her naked since I clapped eyes on her, but my mind was clearly a limited thing, my imagination poor indeed. In her natural state, she is a goddess. Lying there, with naught to cover her form, she is proof of God’s greatness, and of all that is wonderful in our world. How was it possible for a girl to be so flawless, so generous in some places and yet so narrow in others? Like the fumbling fool that I’d become, I tore at my own belt. My plaid fell quickly and I stood in my shirt admiring her. The linen shift I wore was fine and did little to hide my staunch excitement.

  The door banged and crashed in its jamb, making me jump. Someone was there, knocking and thrashing, hammering their knuckles against the wood. With a growl of frustration, I yanked the door wide. “Go away, Martha. Can ye not see that I’m busy?”

  She thrust a dinner trencher at me. “Oh, aye, Laird, I can see that plain enough.”

  I snatched the food from her outstretched arm, and, using my free foot, kicked the door closed again. But I could tell that Martha had not retreated. I heard the rustle of her skirt against the wood.

  “Laird,” she cried out through the panels of wood. “Shall I tell the men in the hall that you’ll nay be down for supper? That you’re well into the process of interrogating our prisoner?”

  “Aye,” I snapped. “And I’m no’ to be disturbed. Don’t come again unless the castle is on fire. Or under attack.” Then I added, “I’ve important matters to discuss with our guest. Matters of urgency.” I emphasized my words, hoping to staunch the gossip.

  Martha stood her ground. “Pressing matters, milord? Aye, we’re blessed t’ have a laird who takes his work so seriously, and does his job so . . . thoroughly.”

  That Martha was a cheeky one. “Ignore her, wee Caitlin. Martha’s our castle steward. She’s needed around here, otherwise she’d nay get away with her fierce tongue. Right, where was I?” I said, dumping the trencher on the far table.

  “I believe you were about to interrogate me,” she said with a grin.

  “And so I was.” I moved back onto the bed and had barely settled before I felt her hand. She slid her fingers up under my shirt and wrapped her warm palm around my length. Raining riches. Do the men folk in Caitlin’s homeland know how lucky they are? Before I could finish my thought, Caitlin guided me into the soft wondrous place between her thighs. She was already slippery and I, just like a bull in spring. I fought the urge to rush. I ground my teeth, trying in earnest to slow up.

  Caitlin’s body was hotter than a fire on parched grass. Her face was already aflush and her chest rising with her hurried breaths. She wrapped her legs around my back, drawing me in deep, moving against me. I admit I needed to look away because the sight o’ her was too much. I would not be able to hold back if I witnessed any more of her mounting pleasure. Yet my eyes were most reluctant to leave her curves, her hunching back, and her soft, sighing mouth. I tried focusing on her hair, but that didn’t help because it was spread over my bed like a wanton creature. I made the mistake of gazing into her eyes, and that mistake cost me. Her eyes beseeched me, pulling me in deeper. And then her head rolled back and sweet groans escaped from her lips.

  I felt the thrust of her hips become more urgent just before her muscles tightened around me. She made another noise, an animal groan that was my undoing. I pulled her to me, wishing to feel the thud of her heart, and her soft sighs against my throat. She tensed again.

  “Sweetness, my heart,” I said, feeling her pulsing release, wave after wave of honey. I let go then, let myself spill, the flood of ecstasy sweeping me away. Over and over, joy burst like rushing waves over my body. We clung together, collapsing onto the covers, our bodies slick and sated.

  When we were done, I held her in my arms, shaking my head over this wondrous creature. How had she evoked so much joy in me and yet I knew so little about her? I had much to find out. There was something I did know, for certes. I liked her too much to let her go now, no matter who she was or where she was from. She was mine and I intended to keep her. All I had to do was talk her around to my way of thinking. Soon enough, she’d forget all about her homeland.

  Chapter 7

  Caitlin

  I woke the next morning to find myself alone in Bern’s bed. The memory of last night hit me like a rogue wave. I winced, and then squeezed my eyes shut. What on earth had I done? Had I really gone all the way with a warrior from the thirteenth century? I barely knew the man. What was I thinking? Maybe I could put my recklessness down to the bump on my head. Yes, that must be it. I was suffering and wasn’t myself. I’d acted on impulse, and let my feelings sweep me away. I’d just been intimate with a medieval warrior. An old-fashioned warrior with muscles, and weapons, and loads of raw masculinity. But in my defense, I’d like to know how many modern women would have been able to resist someone like that?

  I’d just made love to a total stranger. I groaned aloud. So much for being sensible and grounded and all those other things everyone called me. But then again, Bern wasn’t quite a stranger. Not a true one. I knew his name, at least. And we had spent some time together—a little, anyway I’d even stitched his gaping wound. When someone does something special for another, something that is life-saving, then, surely, those two people have a connection. In a way, they are bonded together. Sounds good. I could live with that.

  I raised my fingers to my forehead and felt around my bruised skin. I had a bump that poked out and was swollen and filled with fluid. Could be worse. I knew that it was better to have a bump on the head going outward rather than in. All things considered, I felt okay.

  I looked around Bern’s room. How late was it? The light was muted of course because all the rooms in the castle were gloomy and dark, but I got the sense that the time was somewhere around the middle of the morning.

  Glancing down at the floor, I noticed that my dress was not where he’d thrown it last night. My gaze darted across the rushes. There, my Scottish dress was draped over the wooden chest in the corner. I pulled myself to a sitting position and leaned against the stone wall. How was it possible that I was in medieval Scotland? The craziness of my situation still frustrated me. I felt like bursting out into the hallway and screaming at the first person I came across. How can I be here? I belong in the twenty-first century, not in 1263! But, if I didn’t want to be half drowned for witchcraft, best I kept my mouth shut.

  I struggled into my medieval clothing intending to bolt for the back stairwell and the privacy of my own room. By now, Bern would be re
gretting his impetuousness, wishing he hadn’t carried me to his chamber last night. He is Laird, after all. He cannot afford to get swept away by every girl that fancies him. I’ve no idea how medieval men think. He’s probably hiding somewhere, worried that I’ll want to marry him after our night of passion. Of course I don’t. I’ll be civil when I see him, but that’s all. I will let him run without making any sort of fuss. Anyway, I’ve got to get back to my own century. My career is starting soon, and I’ve worked far too hard to let that slip away now. It’s taken me years of study to become a high school teacher and I’m not about to abandon that dream two feet from the finish line. I have no desire to live in the past, none at all.

  I peeked my head out into the dark hallway. No one was about. Good. I darted across the stinking rushes, down the horribly narrow back stairwell until I was on my floor. I think it was my floor but all that dark, heavy stone everywhere made it hard to tell one part of the castle from another. Before I turned and bolted for my room, I recognized the doorway that lead to the garderobe. That’s the toilet. I used that one yesterday. What choice did I have? It’s a small stone room that juts out of the keep wall. There’s a stone box, a seat of sorts at the far end. Of course there’s a sizable hole cut out of the middle of the seat. You can look down through the hole and see the bailey below, and often you can see folk milling around, too. The whole idea is for the toilet business to fall through the air and land in a ditch below. That’s the plan, but it all depends on the wind. If there’s a gale blowing, then the business has no chance of landing in the right place. I tried not to think about that as I slipped into the little room again.

  Once inside my own bedroom, I breathed a sigh of relief. People really are resilient and adaptable. Yesterday, I didn’t think much of this bed chamber because, by twenty-first century standards, it’s unbearably cold, dark, and dirty. But now, I’m starting to see the room in a new light. It’s my place and strangely, I’m starting to feel like it belongs to me. It’s the opposite of how I should be feeling, because yesterday I got hit over the head for simply being here. But that could have happened anywhere in this castle. I’m starting to trust Bern, in the same way his clan trusts him. If he says that he won’t let it happen again, then I believe him.

  I sat on my mattress and waited. I wasn’t sure what I was waiting for, for my head to clear maybe. I needed to forget. I must not dwell on last night, not remember the warm, wonderful feeling of being in his arms, and most importantly, not recall his scent, a smell that screamed of the earth, raw need, and mating. I must get home. But how?

  Ada and Nelly rapped on the door, and without waiting for me to invite them in, they dashed inside. They eyed me sitting primly on my bed and beamed. Their expressions were filled with cheekiness; they were wearing the smiles of friendship. I’ve seen that we-know-what-you’ve-been-doing look before. Lily looks like that when she knows I’ve been up to no good, and she can’t wait to hear all the gory details.

  Ada spoke first. “’Tis nippy in here, lass. Nelly will get the fire going again.”

  “Thank you. Have you brought me washing water again?” I watched Ada balance a large bowl of steaming water on her hip, trying hard not to spill any.

  “Aye, with herbs, too.” She placed the bowl down on the rough table near my bed, then fished out a small wash cloth and hunk of tallow soap from her bag. My heart leapt. How quickly warm water and soap had become a luxury, a thing to treasure.

  Nelly was busy igniting the fire but Ada was doing nothing but standing there, smirking at me. Eventually, her bubbling curiosity got the better of her. “So you’re a special friend of Laird’s now?”

  My eyes shot up. “I’ve no idea what I am to him.” I was already fighting with the bindings on my dress so Ada helped. I stood in the linen shift she gave me yesterday, shivering because the fire was still nothing more than a gentle flicker.

  “That’s quite a mark ye have on the head. I’ll go fetch some bruised betony and comfrey. They’ll aid the healing.”

  I nodded and smiled my thanks.

  “Laird has figured out who walloped ye last eventide. Our laird can no’ stand a mystery. He’s spent the morn uncovering the facts and where-for-alls. Now he’s satisfied with his answer.”

  Ada dipped her wash cloth into the warm water and carried it to me. I took the cloth from her before she got any notion of washing me herself. I closed my eyes enjoying the sensation of the warm water and washcloth over my face.

  “It was the widow, Moira. Her husband was killed last snowfall by a Northman.”

  I handed Ada the cloth back and she dipped it into the water. “Everyone’s been told now, that you’re nay one o’ them.”

  I accepted the cloth again and then turned my back so that she could not see me wiping my breasts and lower regions. “I’m definitely not a Northwoman.” I let my shift fall back into place then walked over to the bowl so that I could soap the cloth.

  “Of course, now we all want to know what ye are, if nay Norse. But Laird’s told everyone to rest easy. He intends to find out. Come hell or high water, he’s got his head set on knowing all there is to know about ye.”

  I stopped scrubbing my thighs. Was that meant to make me feel better? I’d have to be wary. Maybe I could convince Bern that I was a seer. A seer of big things, not of small everyday occurrences. I wondered what attributes I was meant to have, being a seer. Still, I suppose I could make that up as I went along, considering that I was a seer from a strange country he’d never heard of.

  Nelly stood back and admired her fire. “There. That should keep ye warm.”

  “Thank you, both.”

  They nodded and smiled, looking like they had no intention of leaving. “Laird Bern says we’re to take you into the great hall at high sun, for our noon time meal, and sit together.”

  “Oh, good. I’m so hungry, I could eat a horse.” They both fell silent so I looked up. Their brows were drooped, their faces grimacing in horror.

  “Not really. I don’t really want to eat a horse. It’s a saying, that’s all. Where I come from, we say that we want to eat a horse when we’re feeling very hungry.”

  After another long silence, Nelly piped up. “I suppose it’s like when we say, ‘I could eat a graveyard filled with fat men.’”

  It was my turn to scowl. I finished my wash, and then Nelly tipped my bowl of dirty water out of the small window opening in the castle wall. Another thing I’ve learned from being here is to keep to the center of the two baileys, far away from any castle walls.

  “Laird’s quite a catch,” Ada said, lacing me up again. “But ye know that already.”

  I shoved my feet into the slippers. “I’ve no intention of catching anyone, especially not someone here in Tor Castle. I’ll be leaving soon, you see. I’m heading home to where I belong.”

  “Really?” Ada asked, as if I’d said something astonishing.

  “Of course. Why are you surprised?”

  Ada looked at Nelly and together they exchanged a meaningful glance. I wasn’t sure what the look meant, but guessed something like, how deluded is she? “Come along,” Ada said, looping my arm and avoiding my question. “Time we were away. The bell for the noon-day meal will sound soon and when it does, the whole castle will scurry to the food like dung beetles racing for the midden.”

  Nelly and Ada seated me between them, within sight of Bern at the top table. Although Bern was caught in a deep conversation with a warrior on his right, his eyes found their way to me. But the same could be said for every other set of eyes in that hall. The folk might have been pretending otherwise but really, they were all focused my way.

  Bern stood, and the hall fell silent. “I know that ye have empty bellies so I will keep this short. By now ye all know that I have brought a visitor to our castle. Stand up, Caitlin, please.”

  I stood.

>   “Caitlin is my guest and will be treated with respect. Many of ye know that there was a mishap yester-noon. Caitlin was mistaken for a Northwoman, and hit over the head. Anyone who has spoken with Caitlin, will recognize the fact that she is not from these parts.” His voice swelled. “I repeat, Caitlin is not Norse. She is a visitor from far afield, and therefore of great interest to us. We are keen to learn her ways because I believe they are very different to ours. There will be much we can learn from each other. Now, raise your mugs.”

  Everyone stood and lifted their goblets. Nelly nudged me, encouraging me to raise mine, too.

  Bern’s voice boomed around the hall. “Welcome, Caitlin,” he said, and everyone followed, calling out a chorus of welcome. Then they all drank.

  “Thank you,” I responded and raised my own mug, nodding my thanks to everyone before drinking. I supposed this was the correct response. It seemed to go down well. Everyone sat, me included.

  “Let us begin,” Bern cried, and the good folk of Tor Castle needed no further encouragement.

  Ada pointed out the salted haddock, the venison stew, the fresh barley bread, and the cheeses made from both cows’ and goats’ milk. I tried a little of everything. Don’t know whether it was the food itself, or the fact that I was super hungry, but whatever it was, the food tasted rich and delicious. I enjoyed watching others interact with Bern, too. When they gazed his way, their eyes and body gestures mirrored the respect they felt. Although most of his men were wounded, scarred, and wrapped in bandages, they seemed to be a remarkably happy lot. They clearly enjoyed each other’s company.

  Ada leaned toward my ear. “’Twas a bonnie day yester-noon when our Laird rode in, safe and sound. Gladdened all our hearts.”