Chapter 3
CHAPTER 3
G raeme sighed as he leaned against the wall. He had the most boring job at Dunscaith, guarding Scáthach’s door. The witch was known to bring the MacLeod clan women from the future, but he'd yet to see it. So, he stood, yawning, and getting ever more bored.
Finlay, his former brother-in-law, had told him that he and his younger brother Danny needed to earn their way into the good graces of the Laird and other guardsmen who still looked at them warily. Probably the reason why he was stuck guarding this blasted door rather than up on the wall looking out for thieves, witch hunters, and MacDonalds wanting to take over the Keep.
When his father had died by Finlay's hand—an act Graeme fully agreed with since his father had been a horrible man who had murdered Graeme's sister just for marrying Finlay—Graeme had taken over the gang of thieves his father had led. He'd wanted to stop thieving and turn the gang to more mercenary work, but some stood in his way.
That had led to the worst and best thing that had ever happened to Graeme and Danny. His young niece, Mary, had run away to join her uncles as bandits, or so she claimed. That led Finlay to come after her and them, and in the end, they'd made a deal. The bandits would stop thieving in Scotland and move on to England or become mercenaries for hire. Either way, they stopped being a nuisance to the MacLeods.
After getting his men off the Isle of Skye and heading toward England, Graeme had deemed one of his men as the new leader, and then he and Danny had returned to Dunscaith Castle to hire on as mercenaries for Clan MacLeod, pledging their loyalty to Laird Cameron.
Of course, just because they'd pledged their loyalty to the clan didn't mean the clan instantly trusted them. On the contrary, it seemed they'd be earning that trust inch by inch. Still, Graeme didn't regret the choice to return and offer their services to the Laird. Living in tents, especially on cold winter nights, was not something he wanted to go back to. His quarters here at Dunscaith, though minimal, were an upgrade.
On top of that, he had his niece, and Finlay and his new wife Eva here as well, and he often took dinner with them and Danny. It was as though he once again had a happy family. That being said, guard duty was still tedious. The door never opened, at least not while he'd been guarding it. One of the other guards had been lucky enough one eve to catch sight of the witch, if he was to be believed, but Graeme had never seen her or anyone else come through the barred door.
He'd scoffed at the thought of Eva being able to get through the iron-barred door. He couldn't lift the iron on his own, so how did these women from the future do it? Eva said it was magic, and he supposed it was, considering she was here.
So, imagine his surprise when the door swung open and a tiny woman tumbled through the door and into his arms.
Dark blue eyes looked up at him with astonishment. Her pale skin was framed by hair so black that the shine bounced off the torchlight. For a moment, Graeme was struck by her beauty and almost forgot himself. Then he remembered his duties when he looked at how she was dressed—in men’s trousers and boots—and the words came out of his mouth.
“Lass? Are you all right?” he said.
She was in shock as he enveloped her. She was as light as a feather, tiny and petite against his broad chest. He stared into her eyes, mesmerized by their color. She was exquisite. And silent as she stared up at him. Her bowlike lips were parted in a gasp as though she hadn't expected to be caught by someone like him. He doubted she had. Eva had said there were very few men like he and Finlay left in what she called the modern world.
The tiny woman straightened, getting her balance, and turned in his arms. “Apologies; I lost my footing. I'll just be on my way. Do you know if the storm has passed?” she said, backing away and moving toward the once-again-barred door from which she’d come. She patted her pockets as though searching for something.
“It's not storming here, lass. When I was out last, it was a bright and sunny day,” Graeme replied.
“My phone. Where is it?” She began searching the floor.
Graeme had heard the word before from Eva and knew it to be a way people of the future communicated, but he'd never seen one. Still, he helped her look for the object but didn't see anything except the stone floor.
“I do not see it, lass, but I must tell you that things are not what they seem,” he said.
She shook her head and frowned. “I guess I dropped it on the other side of the door,” she said. “Great. Well nice to meet you, dude. See ya later.” She turned to the door, only to find that it was now barred.
Graeme watched her grow confused, and he smirked. This was how it worked. The women came through the door, turned around, and the door was barred, except this time, they were unable to lift the bar. Or if they were, when they opened it, the door opened onto a brick wall.
“What? What is going on here?” she huffed, her small fists resting on her hips.
Graeme hid his smile and crossed his arms over his chest. “If you will come with me, wee lass, you will see that there is an explanation for this."
The woman spun around and glared at him. “What the hell are you talking about? And where is everyone?” Her gaze widened, and her lips parted once more as she looked him up and down. “Why are you wearing that?”
Graeme looked down at his kilt and plaid. Then his hand went to his sword as he wondered if she was talking about his attire or his weapon. Perhaps it was the bow and quiver of arrows he always carried. He couldn't be sure which item had her so worried. Before he could speak, her questions began again.
“Are you one of the tour guides? I must say, you take your costuming very seriously. It is very good.” She eyed him once more, her hand reaching toward his plaid before she quickly pulled it back to her side as though she was afraid to touch him. “Very authentic.”
Graeme arched a brow at her, and once again had to hide his grin. "If you will follow me, all will be explained,” he said, gesturing toward the hallway beyond the large room they stood in.
“All right, I'll follow you. Take me back upstairs to the rest of the group. I don't want to miss the ferry off the island. But do you have a phone? Perhaps you can call my phone, and I can follow the sound of the ringing. I'm traveling abroad, and it's important that I have a phone. My job demands it,” she said.
"I'm sorry, lass, I do not carry one of those communication devices that people of your world carry," Graeme answered, glancing over his shoulder at her. “Why are you talking like that?" she asked and then sighed. "Nevermind. Just take me to your manager or supervisor, or whomever you were speaking of can answer my questions. Perhaps they can come down here with some flashlights and help me find my phone.”
They reached the stairs and Graeme swept his arm out, gesturing for her to go first. “This way, after you.” He wanted to follow behind her for two reasons: One, just in case she took another tumble, and he needed to catch her; and two, because no matter that she came through the door, she could still be a threat and he didn't fancy having a dagger shoved into his back if she carried one. He didn’t think she did, but that wasn't the point.
"Fine, though I don't understand how everything looks the same as it did on the other side of the door. The room we were in looked just like the one on the other side except for the torches on the wall. And I swear that this is the same stairwell I came down before." The wee woman stopped on the step and looked back at him. Is it a magic trick?"
“Yes, exactly. The magic of Dunscaith Castle. Or perhaps that of Scáthach. She has a way of choosing who to bring through that door. Unfortunately for you, there is no way back. She does not work that way. But you can now consider this your home," Graeme replied.
The petite woman turned around fully to face him, her little fists once again on her hips. “What do you mean by that? That I should now consider this my home? Are you going to tell me what's going on here? Am I being abducted? Because those are the words of someone who abducts people, you know. You should be careful what you say. Those words of yours would hold up in any court as the words of a kidnapper, especially if I were prosecuting you,” she said with her blue eyes blazing in the torchlight.
Graeme raised a brow at her. “You have spit and fire in you, don’t you, lass? I like that,” he said looking at her up and down. Her slender figure caught his eye in the trousers that hugged her body, which he greatly admired.
She gasped. “Don’t look at me like that, you pig! I will tell your supervisor that you were sexually harassing me!”
“What?" Graeme looked at her curiously. Sexually harassing her? What was that? He understood the two words, but he'd never heard them put together in such a way. He shook his head, thinking perhaps it was a modern term; something derogatory, he guessed from her tone. "Enough of this,” he said, annoyed. He gripped her arm and marched with her up the remaining stairs, into the hall, and up another set of stairs with her protesting the entire way about being “man-handled”. Well, he was a man, and he was handling her, so he couldn't deny that.
“Hey. Hey! Let go of me! What the hell is going on here? You can’t treat tourists like this! I’m going to leave a bad review!”
Graeme ignored her comments. She was a stubborn lass; he'd give her that. Huffing, he drew her along the corridor. She tugged against his grip, and he finally had enough, drawing them to a halt. “You can come like this, or I can throw you over my shoulder. Which is it?” he said sternly.
She gulped in a breath. “No. Not over the shoulder, you big buffoon. Fine; I’ll walk. You have some manners on you, you know.”
Graeme snickered at her sarcasm. He gestured for her to walk on, and she turned in a huff. This beautiful woman was trouble. She made his blood hot, and she was desirable to look at, but now was not the time to be thinking about bedding the lass. He was still here on probation and didn't need her getting him into trouble with the Laird or the other guards. He'd leave her in their capable hands and head right on back down to guard the door.