Chapter 30

Chapter Thirty

A fter Sabrina insisted he was not needed and required time alone, Tristan allowed his descendant, Edith, to dress him in something more suitable for the modern world.

Discomfort seemed to be the overall theme of the day. Tristan fought the urge to squirm in his seat as Calum McRainey leaned forward, studying him without regard for propriety, the old man’s bulbous nose almost touching his. Tristan glowered down at the man.

“’Tis a shame that you were trapped for so long, Sonny.” Calum tsked before turning to the other council members. As if speaking in court, he paced in front of the seated council members. One hand outstretched, with the other he pulled a timepiece out of his vest pocket and studied it before continuing.

“The young man is most definitely a McRainey. Has the McRainey build and carries himself in a manner that reminds me of my uncle Robert McRainey, God rest his soul. The resemblance cannot be denied.” He referred to the late last Laird McRainey.

For hours now, each of the four elderly council members had taken turns, standing and speaking of what to do to prove who he was. Unfortunately, any information he’d given them was beyond their abilities to prove. After all, most of what he’d lived through happened almost four hundred years earlier. When he’d given them more modern facts he’d gathered from appearing in the estate, he was told the information could be easily gotten from an item called “internet.”

“Perhaps you know something about this house that no one else would, dear.” Edith’s eyes were filled with compassion, when they met his. “Do you know of any estate secrets or maybe some inscriptions that could be unearthed?”

Tristan practically jumped to his feet. “Follow me.” He left the room not looking back to see if they did. At this point, he wanted them gone so that he could get back to figuring out a way to save Clara and Gwyneth.

The council members appeared to be enjoying the possibility of being the ones to announce the “enchanted knight’s” return, and didn’t seem inclined to leave until they had the proof. The news would no doubt help them make their mark in Dunimarle Castle’s history. He hurried through the kitchen and down a dimly lit hallway. At the end of the hallway was a small wooden door; the padlock barely protested when he yanked it open. His strength had not diminished upon returning, it seemed. He ignored the protests behind him as he jogged down some wooden stairs into a large wine cellar. Once in the cellar, he searched for something to provide light.

The room suddenly brightened. “Electricity,” Derrick told him standing at the top step.

Tristan ignored him and went to the far wall. Once there he pushed the shelving full of wine bottles aside. The secret passage was there, but he couldn’t remember which brick would open it. Steps sounded as the council members finally arrived, telling each other to take care as they descended. Clawing at several bricks, he finally took a step back and studied each one. He turned to Derrick. “Do you have something with a flame? A candle?”

Derrick nodded, went to a small table, and picked up a candlestick. “One would hate to be trapped down here without light.” Using a match, he lit the candle and handed it to Tristan, who moved it across the wall until the flame flickered. He’d found it. He allowed Derrick to take the candle back then pulled at the brick. A door opened.

A collective gasp made him roll his eyes. “There are caves under here that take one to the seashore. It was used before my time for escaping if the keep was ever under siege. Only my Da and I knew about it. My Da told me there was no longer a need for it after the attacks from the Norse had ceased to be a threat. We had friendly relationships with neighboring clans… there was no longer a need for it.”

“I’ll go look,” Derrick said, stepping through the narrow doorway. The young McRainey gave Tristan a skeptical glance. “After you, Cousin.”

Tristan hoped the crates with his gold were still well hidden, as he stepped down the stone stairway. Although Derrick seemed to be accepting of his presence, trust would have to come with time. Tristan stopped at the bottom of the stairs glancing around the caves. He knew that two turns right would take them to the shoreline, three left, to his treasure.

Derrick sniffed the air. “I don’t see any need to go any further. I can smell the salt air.” The young man seemed to sense Tristan’s apprehension because he paused and looked around. “I’m surprised no supplies were kept down here. Boats, oars, perhaps some food stuffs, and blankets.”

“They were, but everything was removed before it was sealed.” Tristan didn’t move toward the stairs, not wanting to seem too eager.

Tristan looked around. “My Da told me he played down here as a child, but after one of his cousins drowned, his own da placed the wine shelves in front of the secret passageway. My Da showed me the passageway, since I was to become the laird. I tried to show my brother before… leaving, but we didn’t have time.”

The young McRainey began up the stairs. “Tragic.”

The council finally left, satisfied that Tristan was who he claimed to be. Their anticipation of spreading the news was obvious. They began talking loudly as soon as they were outside, climbing into what Edith called an auto.

Glad for the interrogation to be over, Tristan sat. Leaning forward, he rested his face in his hands. He brushed his hair away from his face, exhaustion beginning to take over. He wore modern slacks and a buttoned-up blue shirt. The cloth they were made of, felt soft against his skin. The shoes he wore were comfortable, soft black leather. Derrick had purchased many shirts, pants, under garments, and shoes, at Edith’s request. Deliverymen laden with packages arrived early that morning.

He felt overwhelmed. If not for the situation at hand, he’d want to find a horse and ride for hours. A hard ride was the best way to clear a man’s head, the only way to truly find time alone.

“Tristan, you look tired, do you want to rest?” Edith placed a hand on his shoulder. “We should have waited to call the council, but I was afraid word would get out once the servants began talking.”

“I’m glad it is over,” Tristan replied. “I cannot rest, not until we hear back from the alter-world.”

“What about the legal aspects of this?” Derrick asked his aunt. “I don’t see how any judge will turn everything over to a man that supposedly was trapped in another world for centuries.”

“You’re correct,” Edith faced her nephew, her face taut. “It might just come down to honor. You do know what that is, don’t you?”

Affronted, Derrick did not reply to her question. “I have matters to attend to in town. I’ll take my leave.” He nodded at them and left.

“I don’t want to distress you, Tristan, but he’s not going to give up easily.” Edith told him. “Ever since he’s come up with this idea of transforming the estate into a resort, he won’t listen to reason. But I’ve taken steps, to ensure you come into what is yours. Don’t worry.” The woman shook her head, a cocky smile on her face. “Derrick needs a wife and children. We need to settle him down. The boy has too much free time. Perhaps children would keep him out of trouble.”

“Perhaps,” Tristan replied, not totally convinced.

“Hallo, Tristan,” Gavin’s deep voice sounded behind them. “I’ve returned with Lady Gwyneth.”

Tristan turned to see Gavin, who seemed to be in pain, as the large man was doubled over, barely holding himself upright. As Gavin stumbled forward, finally landing face-first onto the carpet, Tristan noticed Gwen. She held her hand to her mouth and ran from the room.

“Told her to keep those eyes closed,” Gavin mumbled, not looking much better. Edith hurried after Gwen as Tristan helped Gavin to a large chair. “How did you get her back?”

“Esmeralda’s men were bringing her to our keep as we headed to Meliot’s castle. We met them on the road. They returned with us to the keep, and I immediately brought her back. We can actually leave the keep now, Meliot’s minions are strangely absent.”

“Where’s Clara?”

Gavin shrugged and shook his head. “The lady said she would tell only you.” The Scot leaned back closing his eyes. “I need a few moments. Movement between our worlds, as Padraig puts it, hurts like hell.”

Running out of the room and up the stairs, Tristan burst into Gwyneth’s bedroom. It was empty. Hearing voices, he turned and stormed into Sabrina’s, where he found Gwen on the floor, sobbing in her sister’s arms.

Face flushed, she cried, shaking as she clutched to her sister. “Oh God, I can’t do it. I can’t tell him the truth—he’s been through enough.”

Sabrina soothed her, her hand patting Gwen’s back, while Edith poured a glass of water and placed it next to the sisters.

Edith glanced up at him and went to the window, bowing her head, eyes closed, she seemed to be praying.

Feeling as if he’d been drenched in ice water, Tristan couldn’t wait. “Tell me,” he told her, not moving closer to the women on the floor.

Gwen froze. She turned to him, her face flushed, her cheeks wet.

“Did you leave my daughter behind to save yourself?”

She opened her mouth, and her eyes rolled back. She fainted.

“You’ll have to wait for your answer. Please leave,” Sabrina snapped, as she and Edith went to the unconscious Gwen.

“Call the maid to come,” Edith told him, her eyes pleading for him to be patient.