Aileen entered through the back entrance, which led directly into the kitchens. Her head was pounding, and before she sought out her father, she needed a strong cup of coffee.
The smell of fresh baked bread and laughter spilled forth, and she smiled.
“Well, there you are. If we had known you were going to take a walk this early, we would have joined you,” said Maeve, smiling back.
She didn’t want to worry her friends with her sleepless night. “I was up early. And considering how everyone drank last night”—pausing to wink at Sally and Cara—“I wanted to take a look at the grounds of the castle.”
“Then I hope you’ve worked up an appetite, because between Gwen and your father’s cook, Susan, we’re in for a treat.” Maeve moved to sit down at the kitchen table.
“Good morning, Aileen,” said Aunt Lily walking into the kitchen. “Did you sleep well?” Peering over her shoulder, she tried to see what all the commotion was about.
Ignoring her aunt’s question, Aileen whispered, nodding in the direction of the two women. “Both of the chefs are apparently cooking for us this morning. This should be a feast. I should have waited to take my walk after I ate.”
“How early have they been at it?”
Overhearing Aunt Lily’s question, Teresa replied, “Since five this morning.” She moved past Aileen placing a basket of freshly baked scones on the table.
“Sheesh! I thought I was the only one up,” muttered Aileen. Noticing a pot on the table, she grabbed a mug and prayed it was coffee. The rich aroma filled her senses, and she poured until the liquid reached the brim. Holding the mug and inhaling, she sipped it slowly, before taking a seat beside Cara. Her friend had one too many last night and gave her a brief smile as she nursed her cup, too.
Closing her eyes, she allowed the hot brew to do its magic and clear the cobwebs from her brain.
“Good morning, Aileen.”
She opened her eyes to find her father standing next to her. He had a smile for her, but a shadow of sadness creased his features. Her heart lurched.
Giving him a warm smile, she replied, “Good morning, Dad.”
He glanced at the women talking and preparing the food in a frenzy of words and movement, and chuckled. “I knew Gwen would immediately fall in love with the kitchens and Susan.”
“Yes, it looks like she’s found nirvana,” chortled Aileen, sipping more of her coffee. “Have you eaten?”
Her dad turned back to her. “Aye. I thought I would come and let you know I will be in the library. Come see me after you’re done here.” Before he took his leave, he placed a kiss on her brow.
Nodding, she gave him another smile.
Instantly, Gwen and Susan started bringing forth steaming dishes and more baskets containing breads. Aileen definitely made a mental note to take another long walk after her meeting with her father. This time she would roam the hills to work off all the food she was going to consume.
****
Several hours later, and feeling refreshed from the warmth of food, friends, and abundant mugs of coffee, Aileen made her way down the corridor to the library. She paused every once in a while to admire another tapestry, richly woven with scenes of medieval life.
Again, questions as to why her parents kept this knowledge from her made no sense. She just could not fathom that, because of a vision her mother had, both her parents withheld part of her heritage for her safety. Knowing her mother, she would have shared her vision preparing her for whatever lay ahead, not shielded her. But her dad may have asked her to wait since he didn’t seem as sure of the vision.
Pausing outside the library’s huge oak doors, she took a deep fortifying breath and pushed them open. To say the room was large would be an understatement. The word immense suited its description better. The only wall which wasn’t adorned in rich, dark paneled shelves filled with books held a fireplace dead center in the room. Several ladders were on either end, and Aileen itched to climb up and view the books on the top shelves.
Her father stood next to Liam, their backs to her, and she could hear them arguing. They were looking at some kind of document on a table at the far end of the room. Liam had his fists clenched on the table shaking his head back and forth.
Aileen really wanted to look at this book, the one with her name in it, yet, she did not want to get in the middle of their heated conversation. Deciding she had waited long enough, she stepped forward.
“Should I come back another time?” Her voice tinged with just a bit of sarcasm.
Both men snapped their heads up at the sound of her voice.
“Nae!” her father barked out. He quickly folded up the document and slid it into the desk.
“I’ll keep you informed of the progress.”
He gave Liam a curt nod in response.
Liam gathered up a scroll off the chair and strolled over to her. “Listen with an open heart,” he said, placing a gentle squeeze on her arm.
Anger simmered within her, but she swallowed back the harsh retort. Nodding slowly, Aileen let her gaze travel to a gaze that bore into hers behind Liam’s back.
Liam released his hold, taking his leave.
She crossed the room to stand before her father. “I would very much like to see this book, since you seem to be so concerned about its contents. Perhaps, I can shed some light on its mysterious drawing.”
Her father arched a brow and folded his arms across his chest. “Perhaps...”
“Well?”
He let out a sigh, and stepped away to walk over to a paneled bookcase. Easing his hand along the upper ledge of one of the shelves, he released a latch, and the entire bookcase opened to reveal a passageway. He then proceeded to disappear from her sight.
Aileen snapped her mouth shut and scurried after him. The moment she passed into the dark tunnel, she heard the bookcase close behind her; a cloak of darkness descended over her.
“Dad,” she squeaked.
“Keep walking, Aileen. I’m lighting the torches.”
Light filtered and bounced off the stone walls, and she took a deep sigh of relief. The air cold and musty caressed her shoulders as she took careful steps forward. Keeping her pace steady, she gingerly followed the lit torches along the curves. Where in the blazes was her father taking her?
“Not much further,” he uttered. “How are you doing?”
“Just peachy, Dad!” she replied sarcastically.
Her dad chuckled, and she wanted to smack him. He was just full of surprises.
She halted before some stone steps that spiraled downward. They were incredibly narrow and considering how damp the air was, Aileen hesitated before taking a cautious foot forward.
“I’m right here, Aileen. Take my hand.”
She looked down into his eyes, and for a moment, something flashed within them.
“Aileen.” His voice soothed her senses.
She reached out to grab his hand and slowly made her way down the steps. In truth, there were only a few, but fear fed her nerves.
“Here we are.” Taking a large key, her dad unlocked a large medieval bolt in the wooden door. When he opened it, light flooded the area.
“Oh my...” she murmured.
He smiled as he led her inside the massive room. “Only electricity will do inside here.” He moved away from her and strolled down the aisle of artifacts that were neatly organized on tables and shelves.
Aileen scanned the area, slowly making her way toward her father. There were swords displayed against one wall, and metal armor on another. Scrolls rolled neatly and tucked into slots framed one wall, with books shelved next to them. Pottery adorned tables, as if someone was cataloguing the pieces, and she marveled at their craftsmanship. She let her fingers glide reverently over a bowl with dragons painted on its sides.
“Beautiful artwork, isn’t it? Liam believes it’s from the ninth century.”
Aileen gasped, snatching her hand away from the bowl and onto her chest. “The ninth century? My God, Dad! This is like some sort of treasure cave.” She shivered more from the artifacts, than the bitter coldness of the room.
“Aye.” He took a coat from a nearby chair, and draped it around her. “There’s no heat in this room. It would destroy most of the items, especially the scrolls.”
“Is this where you work most of the time?” she questioned as she made her way to a table.
Her dad followed her gaze before he answered. “At the moment we are focused on a particular dig near the abbey, but I find solace in being down here.”
Aileen knew without asking her father that the leather bound book lying on the table was the one he wanted to show her. Its coloring was dark and simply made, and she reached out a trembling hand to touch it. A warm rush of heat filled her senses, and she pulled her hand back, as if she had been burnt. Her sight blurred, and she leaned against the table for support.
“This is the book,” she whispered.
Her father’s arms went around her shoulders, “Aye, Aileen. This is the journal of Stephen MacKay. He was a Dragon Knight who came to live at the abbey for some months in the thirteenth century. Most of the pages contain the daily progress of the building of the abbey, which is a boon for us. Then on others, there are partial drawings.” He released his hold and rubbed a hand along the back of his neck. “He would start a drawing and then cross it out, as if he was not content with what he had drawn.”
“I want to see the picture of my pendant.” Reaching out to open the journal, the contact sent heat throughout her body. The pages were so thin, and she trembled with each turn. Why did she feel this way?
“On the last.”
She gently folded back the pages to the last one. There in all its glory, was a drawing of her pendant, every nuance of hers mirrored on this page. However, what truly had her gasping was not just the drawing, but also her name...her full name,
Aileen
Rose Kerrigan
.
“It’s…it’s impossible,” she stammered. She looked up into her father’s face—a face filled with certainty that this was indeed real. “How can this be?”
His brows furrowed. “Anything is possible, Aileen.” He sighed and moved away from her to lean against the table.
Laughter bubbled forth and burst free. She hugged the journal against her chest and let the mirth subside.
“Honestly, Dad? I may believe in magic and healing, but what you are suggesting is preposterous! It’s not possible for me to travel to the—” She waved her hand in frustration.
“Thirteenth century,” interjected her dad.
“Right,” she said, pointing a finger at him.
Then a thought occurred to Aileen. Her dad had connected the drawing within the journal with her mother’s vision. She was astounded that a man of his intelligence would come to this kind of conclusion. There had to be a rational explanation—not this insane one.
“You cannot believe it, Dad.”
“Believe what, Aileen? That it’s
real
?”
Exasperation filled her and stepping in front of him, she held the book up. “You can’t possibly think this journal and mom’s vision are connected. It would only mean one possible theory.”
Arching a brow, he countered, “That your mother’s vision of your life ending here in Scotland, and the journal of Stephen MacKay could only mean you will indeed travel back to the thirteenth century?”
The look in her father’s eyes frightened her.
Standing to his full height, he placed his hand upon her cheek. “Aye, my dear daughter, it is
precisely
what I mean.”
Chapter Ten
“The Dragon mixed together henbane, belladonna, hemlock, and aconite to deaden the pain, yet she was helpless without the angel of Death.
”
Aileen fled the room with the journal still in her clutches. Fear and nausea clamped a hold on her body with its icy fingers around her heart. She heard her father yelling her name, but she refused to listen any further. It was not that his words had frightened her; no, it was his unfathomable belief it was indeed a possibility. A belief backed up with evidence, now held firmly against her chest.
Her breath came out in small gasps, and she found herself staring at the large tapestry in the great hall. It was the one that had drawn her toward
him
last night. The set of his chin suggested a stubborn streak. One she understood well herself. Instinctively, she reached out and grazed her finger along his chin, as if she could awaken him from his unearthly gaze with her touch.
“Talk to me, Sir Stephen. Tell me this cannot be.”
The salty tang of the sea drifted past her, and she longed for the water’s soothing comfort. Not waiting for an answer from her Knight, Aileen left the great hall seeking the solace of the ocean. A force unknown, each step bringing her closer to the water, drove her. Aileen could not get there fast enough, and her walk shifted to a full out run. She stumbled once, but kept the pace until the foam of the sea lapped at her boots.
She watched as the waves rocked back and forth to a timeless rhythm all their own. Their gentle cadence working their magic, Aileen felt her heart fall into tune with the sound. Her fingers were still tightly woven around the journal, and with strength from the water and something else she could not explain, Aileen opened to the first page of the journal.