Page 6 of Nyall

“Shame about the kissing.” She turned away and started up the stairs, leaving him to watch her curved hips sway with each step.

Caroline had never kissed anyone who made her mouth burn as if she’d just knocked back a flaming mojito. Her exhausted body still fluttered with sensations and desires that threatened to overwhelm her, and all she could think about was turning around and grabbing Nyall again. That urge genuinely confused her, as big, grim and ripped had never been her type. Thinking of his exotic friend with the gills also made her curious and a little hot and bothered. How could she be drawn to two guys at the same time?

It’s because you’re messed up in the head, Parish, and Captain No-Kissing-Allowed and his pal Flipperboy pulled you out of the water. Haven’t men done enough to you for one lifetime? Shut it down.

She saw the castle before she reached the top of the cliff, and wondered if she were still narked. Like some giant’s version of a sandcastle, Dun Ard seemed to sprawl out in every direction behind two tall stone walls. On top of those walls very large men armed with spears, swords and bows watched her as if they were Secret Service and had caught her trespassing at the White House. The sound of a massive, very medieval-looking grate being pulled up drew her attention to the first of two gates she had to walk through to get to the castle’s main building. The guys guarding that had twice as many weapons as the ones on the walls.

This looks too real to be staged.

Dropping out of high school had seriously curtailed Caroline’s knowledge of world history, so she knew next to nothing about Scotland or the twelfth century. Kilts and plagues were all she could summon from her vague memories. Was this place now at war with some other country? Also, was she really supposed to swallow all this time-travel magical island crap?

Until a better explanation comes along, I’ll play dumb.

“I must leave you with Lady Valerie, Mistress Parish,” Nyall said, and started to let go of her hand. When she held on, he frowned at her. “You’re safe now, I vow.”

“You could be a liar.” Ah, he didn’t like that suggestion, judging by the way his expression went arctic. “What happens to me now?”

“They’ll look after you.” He glanced down at their joined hands. “I shall come and see you later.”

“You vow that, too?” When he nodded she let go of him.

Valerie took the captain’s place beside her, and accompanied her into a cavernous room that had several enormous fireplaces, dozens of wooden tables and benches hung on the walls, and a raised platform on one end where Shaw stood talking with some other clansmen. His eyes had turned to a light gray, and he’d covered the crawling tattoos, but just the sight of him made her want to run in the opposite direction.

Caroline saw the ugly look the chieftain gave her, and returned it. Come and mess with me again, you creepy bastard, and I’ll add some scars to go with your weird ink.

Shaw looked away, said something to the other men and stalked out.

The laird’s wife glanced at Caroline’s wet suit before she gestured to a couple of chairs by one of the windows. A smiling petite brunette appeared with a tray containing steaming mugs, a metal goblet and a plate of bread, cheese and fruit, which she set on a small table by the chairs.

“We’ll have to get some clothing for you to wear once you’ve rested.” Valerie sat down as Caroline did and gestured at the tray. “Please, help yourself.”

Caroline didn’t like that she was served food and drink the minute she walked into the place; that set off more alarms. Rich didn’t have the connections to do this, but there were plenty of sea pirates involved in human trafficking. Shaw definitely looked like a guy who could do that with no problem. She knew she had the kind of body that appealed to assholes like him, and the many ways she could be sold for a profit. Maybe they’d shot her with a dart before hauling her out of the water. Being drugged would explain the strange lights and the voices in her head, and how she’d gone instantly from the middle of the Atlantic to wherever this was.

She sniffed the goblet, which smelled of nothing, and then sipped a little of the liquid inside, which turned out to be cool water. She gulped it down before she could stop herself, and then looked at the wide-eyed brunette.

“More, please?” After the girl bobbed and left she glanced at the blonde. “I’ve been in the ocean all day, so I’m dehydrated.”

“I should have realized.” Valerie grimaced. “Before the ring saved me I was trapped in my car and drowning at the bottom of a lake, so I know a little about what you’ve been through today. It’s so bizarre that you don’t want to believe it’s true. I kept thinking I’d wake up in a hospital, or find myself standing in front of the proverbial pearly gates.”

Caroline recalled the murderous hatred that had kept her going after Rich had cut her lines and sailed off. “Yeah, I don’t think I’m going to heaven.”

The other woman gave her a sharp look. “Well, in any case, you’re still alive and safe now. There’s also more you should know about the MacMar, and what’s happening here in the twelfth century. Let me give you some details.”

As Valerie told her about the island and the clan, Caroline sensed the weight of many gazes on her; some from the guys Shaw had left standing on the raised platform, and others not so noticeable. She glanced up to see the clan’s healer watching her and the laird’s wife from an upper-level floor, and noted at least a dozen guards positioned in every potential exit spot. Young women dressed like the brunette maid peered in while walking in the hall beyond the archways. No one seemed threatening or angry, which seemed odd. She was an intruder in a heavily-guarded space; why wasn’t anyone questioning why she was here?

It’s like they expected me to show up. Like that’s a regular thing with women here.

The details Valerie offered up seemed like the script from an epic fantasy movie, like the MacMar men all sharing the same father, a Fae prince whose blood had made them immortal. The clan’s founder had also literally created the enormous island of Caladh to protect his sons from some vengeful shape-shifting Fae enchantress, which sounded like complete bull, too. The more the other woman told her, the less Caroline liked the script. If it was true, it was utterly crazy. Whatever this magic clan, their secret island and time-traveling ring really were, none of it had anything to do with her.

A maid hurried into the hall, making Caroline flinch. A second later Valerie fell silent, her mouth hanging open as if she’d become suddenly shocked or paralyzed. The maid froze, too, balancing on the toes of one foot. In the fireplace, the flames turned solid, like a photograph of fire. It seemed as if time had come to a complete stop, and then a few seconds later everything returned to normal, with the laird’s wife talking and the maid rushing over to hand her something.

What the hell just happened?

Terror seized Caroline by the throat, and this time she sensed nothing she could do would hold it off. Whatever this was, whatever was happening, she needed to get away from these people right now.

“Excuse me, but do I have to stay here?” she asked, interrupting Valerie’s story about Lark Ambrose, the Broadway seamstress the ring had brought back a couple of months prior. “Isn’t there a hotel or inn or whatever outside the castle?”

“I’m afraid there’s no demand for temporary accommodations on the island. Everyone is a permanent resident. You’ll have to stay with us.” The other woman frowned. “Ms. Parish, you’re among friends here at Dun Ard.”