Chapter 4

Chapter 4

John stood on the castle wall walk that overlooked the castle property. The chapel sat solemnly in the woods. Beyond, the dock where he last saw Marie sat empty. After the damned priest took her, John berated himself repeatedly since he couldn't get to her in time. The sunlight shone off the loch, the waters calm as they reflected the most beautiful scenery in Scotland. Images of Marie in the priest's hands flipped through his mind instead of the beauty of the land before him.

Two days! Missing for two days felt like an eternity. Everything went too fast, yet not fast enough.

His earlier conversation with Colin rang in his mind. "John, a fisherman witnessed the fool priest take Marie from a church to the dock in Iona. Claimed the priest yelled they headed back to Dunstaffnage. The fisherman tried to stop them, but he was too far away to intercept them before the priest's boat hit the open ocean. I ordered the lads from the wharf to position around Dunstaffnage docks for the best chance to intercept them. We'll know the minute the bastard gets back."

John wracked his brain as he tried to figure out what the priest came after. Horrible images ran through his mind day and night. Try as he might, he couldn't stop them. Was she harmed? Had he done more than drag her all over Iona island? John rubbed his face; he must stop thinking that way. She is okay. They said she is okay.

Men's voices reached him. At the car park below, the officers from Scotland Yard got into their car and drove away. What a sorry lot. They claimed Marie wasn't gone long enough to declare missing and even suggested she might willingly be with the damn preacher. John nearly slugged the officer before Colin took the official out of the study. John stepped outside to the castle wall to calm himself and breathe fresh air. He closed his eyes. I must focus and not allow my imagination to get the best of me.She is okay. He took a breath. She is okay.

A faint sound stretched from a distance, and his eyes snapped open. Was that a scream? He scanned the wooded area and observed nothing. He held his breath and listened…a distant cry echoed. He searched the site again, and in the far-left distance opposite the main dock, he made out a man in black with a woman in mild-colored clothing. The people were too far to tell, but his heart screamed, it's Marie.

When a blonde ponytail flipped on her head, he yelled, "Marie!"

He tore down the wall walk through the bailey, and out into the woods. John ran toward the far side of the chapel as he kept them in sight. The priest used the binding tied to her hands and dragged her as he crossed toward the chapel. Boiling rage gave John strength as he pushed faster. He had to make it this time. He must catch her.

Their gazes connected, and Marie screamed, "John!"

Her voice, the panic, tore John's heart into pieces.

They lumbered on the path as they approached the back of the chapel.

He sprinted harder. John's gaze shot between the chapel and the priest. They were closer to the chapel than him, and he wouldn't beat them there.

Conner yelled from the right as he ran toward John from the main castle dock. "I saw them come up the trail. I'm coming, John!"

Once they all arrived at the chapel, he and Conner trapped the priest between them. The cleric had nowhere to run. They would capture him, and he would get Marie back.

The priest stopped at the chapel door, and Marie pulled on her bindings.

John ran harder toward them.

The father pulled a book out and yelled, but John couldn't understand him.

Marie yanked at the priest's grasp.

Her eyes widened as she glanced over her shoulder, and she screamed, "John, hurry!"

His heart dropped to his toes. Marie's eyes locked with his, and time slowed.

The priest chanted something.

Marie yelled over the father, and the one word she said shot fear into his soul. "Portal!"

The chapel door disappeared, and the frame lit up in bright white light. The priest's maniacal laugh echoed through the woods.

John pushed harder to get to Marie, who pulled against the clergy as she tried to escape. John ran faster—almost there. Only three strides from Marie, and he would save her.

Marie's eyes connected with his as she screamed, "I love ye," as they both disappeared into the light.

John's body slammed hard against the door, knocking his head against the hardwood. He roared and opened the door to the chapel's interior. John missed Marie by a mere second. He turned a full circle and searched for them. John turned the loop again and hoped he would find them. His eyes teared up. He missed her by a mere second.

John fell to his knees, threw his head back, and roared until he had no breath left.

****

Dunstaffnage Castle 1498, the Chapel in the Woods

Father Clark fell on top of Marie, and she kicked him hard. "Get off me, ye son of a bitch, get off!" She landed a good hard kick in his groin, and he rolled over and groaned. Marie jumped up and scrambled for the door.

Father Clarke pulled her feet out from under her.

She screamed as her body hit the floor.

He put a rough hand over her mouth. "No, now we can't have any yelling from you." He panted as he caught his breath. "People will come, and we can't have that." He pulled a strip of fabric from his bag and tied it through her mouth and around her head.

She shook her head hard as she tried to avoid him tying her.

Father Clarke was stronger and manhandled her till he tied the knot at the back of her head. "This will hold you till we get away." He stood and pulled her next to him. The light shone through the stained glass in a warm haze as dust flurries flew around them. It seemed near dusk.

Marie panted around the cloth. Saliva dripped down her chin, and she wiped it with her sleeve. She glanced around the chapel. The building was similar but different. The mosaic flooring was the first thing she detected. By lying on the rougher stone, she recognized this was another rock. The altar changed. Wait, Marie corrected herself. We're in the past; her altar remained different in the future. Thinking gave her a headache, and she rubbed her forehead.

Father Clarke opened the chapel door, peeked out, and glanced from side to side. He picked up his bag and pulled her outside the door.

Father Clarke dragged her down the trail which led to the castle. The woods were heavier than the future, where a groundsman kept them clear. The dense forest made it easier for him to hide them both.

They neared the stables, and Father Clarke hid them behind hay bales. Something about the stables nagged in her memory. The stones seemed familiar. It hit her. The entrance to the stables was the stone archway ruin, where John and Colin practiced their swords.

A stable boy crossed her line of vision as he led two horses, fully saddled and loaded with gear.

Marie jolted and stood to signal the boy as she grunted to gain his attention. Father Clarke grabbed her around the middle, and his hand covered her mouth as he held her tight.

The lad tied the horses to a post. "Aye, sir. The horses be ready for the laird and lady's trip. Loaded with their bags and foodstuffs as Laird Alexander wanted for the trip to Lady Anabelle's family. I'll tie them here." The boy left the horses.

The priest snickered.

After the lad disappeared, Father Clarke dragged her along, grabbed the two horses, and strode into the night.

****

He shoved a shift in front of her. "Put this on. You will need to look the part."

She shoved it back. "I'm not helping ye with shite."

Father grabbed her head and pulled her till her face came nose to nose with his.

His eyes glared at her. "You will do as I say, or I will repeatedly hurt you." He twisted her hair hard enough to elicit a cry. Father Clarke let her go and stepped away while he rummaged through the saddlebags.

He tossed the other clothing about as he fumbled through the bag. They rode a short way from the castle, set up camp for the night, and Father Clarke surprised her when he produced matches and built a fire. He would've impressed her if he had rubbed rocks together.

In the distance, the lights of the marina flickered, fewer and smaller than in the future. Nothing but woods surrounded them. She must rethink her strategy. Going along hurt and tied up wasn't the best way to plan her escape. She needed to gain the father's trust, then get away when he became unaware. At least he took off the mouth gag, and she breathed easier. He even took mercy on her and gave her water to wet her dry throat. One step at a time. A plan.

The priest tried to assemble the clothing, but the pieces were mismatched. The man's shirt with the woman's skirt, and he left the woman's bodice on the ground. Earlier, he didn't know how to mount a horse or ride one. He traveled away from the marina instead of closer. He needed a boat to get back to Iona island if he wanted to examine the Iona cross in this century. She understood a lot about history. This became her leverage, her knowledge. His lack of intelligence turned into her power. If she convinced him she helped, he would let his guard down. Then she could escape—one step at a time.

She took a deep breath. Courage, Marie. "I tell ye what, Father. I'll help ye, even cooperate with ye on two conditions."

He huffed a reply.

Marie squared her shoulders. "First, ye will leave me untied at all times and not hurt me, and I will go where ye want and stay where ye want, willingly."

He lifted his head and glowered at her. Good, she'd got his attention.

"Second, I'll even help ye with yer book and find this stone ye want. I'm a history expert and likely can interpret the book better than ye, but there will be a price."

The father folded his arms over his chest and glowered at her. "I'm listening."

She must say it now and make sure he understood. "Ye have the vow to be chaste, and ye'll honor it. Ye'll not violate me."

The father slowly walked toward her, one step at a time. His smile grew as he approached. When the clergyman arrived before her, he bent his head down till he came eye to eye with her. Would he honor his vow, or had she pushed him too far?

"That's three conditions, and it doesn't matter. I don't like Scottish whores, and I would never sully myself with the likes of you."

Marie released her breath. "So, we have a deal?"

Father Clarke strode back to the bags and rubbed his chin. "I'll only bind you when we sleep and lock you up when I am not near." He glanced at her over his shoulder. "If you go back on your word, there will be punishment, and I can guarantee it will hurt."

Marie raised her tied hands and lifted an eyebrow.

He stood and glared at her. "I mean it. You try anything, and I will hurt you badly."

Marie didn't take her gaze from his and slowly nodded.

He strode to her, untied her hands, and stood close to her. She picked up the clothing, flipped the pieces around as Father Clarke returned to the saddlebags and selected up another, rummaging through it again.

Marie huffed. "Ye don't know much about period clothing. Parts are missing. To get dressed, I'll need all the pieces."

"Make yourself useful then." Father Clarke tossed the saddle bag, and it hit her chest. "Figure out our clothing and impress me."

Marie gathered her apparel and shifted behind a tree.

Father Clarke jumped up and grabbed her arm. "Just where do you think you are going?"

Marie glared at him. "Behind the tree to change." Marie blushed and added, "Plus, I have to pee."

Father Clarke laughed. "No, you won't. You can change here and pee on this side of the tree." He released her, and she shivered. Would he stick to his vow? She wasn't ready to test his limits.

He crossed to his side of the fire, sat as he took off his collar, and tossed it into the fire. "Which are my clothes?"

Marie gathered his clothing and strode to him. She needed to show him how to wear a tartan. She doubted the English man understood how to fold one in the old style.

She held each piece as she explained each in the most straightforward way. "This is yer shirt. Ye tuck it into the plaid, which ye fold like this." She knelt, laid out the large cloth, and started pleating the fabric.

The priest stripped his shirt, and Marie averted her gaze from his white pudgy chest vastly different than John's tanned, muscular one.

He drew on the puffy medieval shirt which swallowed his flabby body. "I'll not wear a damned skirt as some light foot wore."

Marie stood and folded her arms. "Ye'll stand out in this age wearing pants. We are in Scotland, and based upon the laird and lady's name, I'd say around the fifteenth century."

He stood and glared at her. "No skirts!"

Marie picked up the plaid and crossed back to the pile of clothes. She collected her clothing and glanced back at Father Clarke.

Father Clarke sat by the fire, lounged on his elbow as he stared at her.

Marie backed up a step.

"Not too far, dear," the father growled.

Marie stopped and gaped at Father Clarke. "Ye said ye weren't interested."

He smiled, "I won't touch you, but I plan to enjoy the show."

Marie shivered. She glanced at the clothes and contemplated how to change hers while revealing nothing. The larger shift glowed in the firelight. Lady MacDougall was more sizable than her. She smiled as her solution popped into her mind. Marie pulled the shift over her head only, and it dropped past her knees. The shift puffed out large and billowy on her tiny, petite body. She kept her body under the large tent and removed her button-down shirt and bra under the dress. She quickly stripped her khaki pants while averting her gaze from Father Clarke.

Father Clarke mumbled, "Probably not worth looking at, anyway."

After she adjusted the shift correctly, she put her bodice on and found it possessed extended ties to tie herself in without his help. The skirt easily slid on over the undergarment. Sitting, she pulled on the woolen hose leg by leg and tied them at her thighs. She even found sturdy shoes which laced up. Not bad. She dusted her hands and folded her modern clothing into the saddlebag. She stepped behind the tree to do her business, and Father Clarke didn't comment. When she emerged, he rested beside the plaid. Marie sat across from him.

He moved around the fire and handed her dried beef and an oatcake. "Found this in the bags. Bon appetite." Marie nibbled on the oatcake, then set it aside.

After some time, Father Clarke stood and towered over her as he waved the fabric strips. "Stand up, Scottish hag."

Marie rolled her eyes and stood with her hands out. The priest tied her hands together, pulled her closer to him, and then tied her to his left hand with a longer cloth strap. She moved as far away from him as the ties allowed and sat hard on the ground. She gathered the woman's wrap, the arisaid around her. The plaid warmed her as she tucked herself into the wool, picked up her food, and nibbled some more.

Father Clarke glanced at her. "Remember our deal, no running."

Marie shivered and curled up in her plaid. At least the dress was sturdy wool, and the thick stockings kept her warm. When she closed her eyes, her first images were of John. She let her mind drift for a minute and smiled in the darkness.

When she nipped more food, her head cleared. She had eaten better dinners than this. Dinner—the first dinner she and John shared happened the first night she came to the castle for the start of the renovation project.

****

Marie headed to the dining room at Dunstaffnage. She arrived that day to commence work on the chapel renovation project and planned to have dinner with Brielle, Colin, and John.

She turned the corner and strode toward the far end of the Great Hall. When she neared, John stood outside the dining room, alone. Did this mean he would cancel? Marie slowed her steps as she approached him.

Their gazes locked as she walked closer. "Good evening, John."

John's smile went wide. "Good evening, Marie. Colin and Brielle have other dinner plans, so we won't be dining with them."

No dinner plans left her alone. Her gaze lowered.

"Would ye like to come to the marina pub for dinner with me? They've booked a band. I've heard they're good, so maybe we can stay a bit?"

Marie's gaze snapped to John's. "Aye, I'd like that."

John offered his arm as he walked her to his black SUV.

The drive to the marina wasn't long, and the view from the castle cliff at dusk took Marie's breath away. Nothing was more beautiful than the Scottish mountainside. She glanced at John as he drove. His profile looked relaxed.

He glanced at her, smiled, and then looked back at the road. Tonight, with John, she hoped would be a chance to get to know him better and tell him she looked forward to the project and her time at Dunstaffnage.

John pulled into the crowded parking lot, parked, and cut the engine.

He hopped out of the car and ran to her side to open the door. "This way to the best beer and fish 'n chips this side of Loch Etive." She stepped down, and he took her hand as he escorted her to the pub.

John grunted as he opened the heavy pub door and held it for her. He picked a table farther to the rear where the floor-to-ceiling window overlooked the marina. The boats bobbed a bit but seemed at rest in the deepening dusk, like shadows of fishermen who sought rest.

A tall, thin man approached, and his booming voice, an unmistakable welcome. "John, what have we here? A beauty she is, and she's yers, eh?"

John blushed. "Hamish, this is Marie Murray from Glasgow. She's part of the chapel renovation project."

Hamish took her hand and shook it hard. "Aye, such a great project." He released her hand and clapped John on the back. "Wait till yer granny hears about this. Ye on a hot date!"

John cleared his throat loudly as red flushed his neck. "Just the usual, Hamish, fish 'n chips, and beers."

Hamish walked away and waved. "Aye, and keep 'em coming till ye signal. Right!"

Marie turned to John and raised an eyebrow. "Hot date?"

John smiled as he shrugged. "My granny's tried to set me up for years. I keep turning them down. They are girls I grew up with, more like sisters."

Hamish returned with a wink and two stout beers, Marie's favorite.

John held his aloft. "To the chapel."

Marie clinked her mug and took a sip. The bite of the hops hit her tongue, but the smoothness of the brew went down easily.

John set his glass down and took her hand.

He rubbed his fingers over the back. "Marie, I am glad ye are finally here in person. I wanted to spend more time with ye."

His caress set tingles through her, and she gazed at him as she smiled. "I am glad to see ye in person as well."

He rotated their hands till he held them palm to palm. "Ye know, when I started working on the renovation, I assumed the project was another duty, another part of my job." He linked their fingers together. "But as I got to know ye, I found the chapel wasn't a chore." His eyes shifted to hers. "It was a pleasure. I found myself looking forward to our conversations, then regretting when they ended." He pulled her hand close to his face and brushed his lips over it. His breath tickled her skin when he spoke, sending chills. "I hope we'll spend much time together, Marie."

So caught up in what he did, the sensations his caresses sent through her, Marie's only response was, "Me too."

Hamish stood beside the table and held two plates piled high with fried fish and chips. "Aww, now that's romantic."

They broke apart, and Hamish set their dinner on the table. As he walked away, he called over his shoulder, "Don't let me interrupt ye. Kissing over fish 'n chips and beer is how I found my love."

John placed his napkin in his lap. "I hope ye brought yer appetite. These are the best."

Marie glanced over hers, comfortable enough to pig out. Over dinner, they shared another round of beers and a conversation about the stone delivery from the quarry for the renovation. Then the rock band started, and the room's chat rose with the sounds of the music.

Marie yelled over the band's music, pointing to the porch. "Can we go on the porch for a bit?"

John's gaze followed her finger, and he nodded. He grabbed both beers in one hand, pulled out Marie's chair, and waved them toward the back door.

Outside, the dock overlooked the loch, and the boats bobbed lightly in the water. They reflected perfectly off the loch, a mirror image in line with the water. The moon lit the loch in a mix of deep indigo and wine haze. Silver flashes danced along the water like fairies floating in the sky.

Marie sighed as she leaned on the railing as she took in the breathtaking view.

The music from the pub faded.

Marie sensed John's approach, and he set the beers on the railing. A breeze blew her neck and chilled her.

John stepped closer, rested his hands on the railing, and enclosed her in his arms.

Marie sighed and leaned back as she rested her head against John's chest.

He wrapped her in a soft embrace. "I've thought so much about ye, Marie." He squeezed her lightly.

She rubbed her hands on his arms. "John, I've thought about ye too."

John turned her in his arms and caressed her face. He dipped his head and kissed her lips lightly.

John lifted his head a little and spoke softly as their breaths mingled. "Standing here in the moonlight, it's lit ye in bluish purple, like fine a gem." He caressed her cheek. "Ye look like a little sea nymph who has jumped from the waters and graced me with her presence." John bent and brushed his lips against hers. "It's mystical."

Marie's lips tingled as his lips brushed hers. She trailed her fingers up his arms, curved her hands around his neck, pulled him down, and deepened the kiss. Mysterious, this night seems like a Fae cast a love spell, and she, a willing recipient.

John tilted farther. Their tongues danced as he molded his body to hers, and his hands stroked her back. He lowered his hands to her rear and gently squeezed.

Marie moaned as she dropped her head back, and John trailed kisses down her neck up to her ear and sucked the lobe. Desire burned through her. A flash of heat near weakened her knees.

John kissed her mouth lightly. They both panted, and he left her a little dizzy.

John took a deep breath. "God, woman, I could kiss ye forever and never grow tired of it."

She giggled. "I never grow tired of yer kisses."

John rocked back on his heels till his gaze met Marie's. "Why were the paleontologists kissing?"

She shrugged.

John smiled. "They were carbon dating."

****

Time slowed, and Marie blinked out of her daze as a tear fell from her eye. A man's voice echoed. It wasn't John or the priest but in her head.

"…hiding from the fear of man. This is our cross to bear."

After waiting a while, she hoped the priest would fall asleep. She tried to untie her hands, but the knots stayed tight. She shifted and crawled toward the priest, hoping to find the tie to his left hand. The fabric jerked. She fell forward and hit her chin on the ground.

She cried out as the priest laughed.

He spoke in a low deep voice. "I knew you'd try to escape. Go to sleep, and don't try it again. I'm a light sleeper and will catch you every time."

She crawled back to her plaid and curled up in it as she tried to sleep. Escape was not for tonight, but another time.