Once Upon a Duke's Dream Read online

  Bryan looked at her for a moment, shaking his head at her strange words. Why would he be disoriented? He was just staying for a few nights until he found Emilia and then he’d be off .

  He paid her, telling her to keep the change, and hauled his bags out of the trunk before walking up to the impressive front door. He found the owner of the main unit, who provided him with the key, as arranged, to the part of the castle where he’d be staying. The man was short, his white hair and long mustache flaring over stooped shoulders. He shuffled in slippers as he led Bryan down the path outside the castle. He didn’t speak much, a bit of a reprieve for Bryan after the taxi ride with Fiona from Aberdeen. The man let Bryan in, without any instruction to contact him if he needed anything, and then continued on his way .

  Bryan was surprised by the rooms that greeted him. Unlike the exterior of the castle, they weren’t at all in keeping with the heritage of the building. Instead, bright, white walls hung with vibrant contemporary art, the furniture sleek and colorful. He hadn’t paid much attention to the photos on the website, and he actually found himself a little disappointed. He had come all this way, and he wouldn’t have minded a true historical Scottish experience. No matter. It was beautiful and functional and really, he wouldn’t be spending much time here anyway .

  Remembering Fiona’s words, on close inspection he could see that the step down to the sunken living room was actually a break in the floor between the original room and an addition from some point in time. The bedroom was on the top level as well, and in it he found the original stone walls. Clearly the bathroom had been added in recent years, tucked into the corner of the small room .

  It was already late afternoon, so after unpacking the few belongings he had brought, Bryan found a bicycle stored behind the door. He checked the map he’d picked up at the airport information counter and made his way back across the A90 highway, looking for a restaurant. Starving, he stopped at the first one he found. He laughed at himself as he entered the little Chinese food restaurant. He flew all the way to Scotland to eat Chinese food. The restaurant was fairly empty, and he picked up take-out, throwing it in the basket of the bike before cycling back. He’d take a night to relax, he decided, before continuing on his quest .

  He returned to his rooms, threw on an old James Bond from the stack of DVDs sitting beside the TV, and ate the stir fried rice and chicken balls with a warm throw over him. Tomorrow, he thought, he’d make a plan .

  His eyes were closing before the movie ended -- jet lag setting in, he figured -- and Bryan forced himself off the couch to brush his teeth and make his way to bed. He fell into a deep sleep, and was startled when he came awake suddenly .

  He squinted his eyes at the clock on the night table. It was 2:30 in the morning. He saw a crack of light again. Was it lightning outside? But no, it seemed to be coming from the -- middle of his bedroom? What the… he felt a fierce wind blow through him, and the black of the room seemed even darker in one corner. What kind of dream was this -- or was it a nightmare? What had been in that Chinese food ?

  He slid his legs off the bed, and clad only in a pair of full-length plaid pajama pants, began shuffling in his bare feet towards the oddity in the room. Was it a screen? He had no idea what was happening, and yet couldn’t seem to stop himself from drawing closer to the phenomenon. When he reached it, he stretched out his hand, his fingers disappearing when they touched the blackness. OK. He was losing it. He put his whole hand in. Gone. His foot, the same. He took a step forward -- and shouted out as suddenly the floor below him was swept away and he fell into the abyss below .

  4

  Sorcha

  S orcha came awake with a start. She wasn’t sure what had awoken her, but she sensed something was amiss. Something beyond the fact that she was in a strange castle away from her family, and had just met a vile man, twenty years her senior who, in just a few short weeks, would become her new husband .

  No, it was beyond that. It was physical, as if there was a presence in the room besides herself. Were there spirits who haunted the rooms of Fettessero? Perhaps she should have had her maid sleep in her chamber after all. She shook her head at herself, but knew she certainly wasn’t going to get anymore sleep until she determined what had caused the change she sensed in the air .

  It was as if suddenly it had turned rather cold in the room, the air feeling different when she reached her hand out beyond the canopies that hung to her right and left. It wasn’t a particularly warm room, the stone walls surrounding her covered in tapestries to try to keep out the cold. Now, however, the cool air seemed to hang with a heaviness of sorts .

  Embers from the fire in the hearth cast a small glow that gave the room a slight bit of light. Sorcha looked around the shadows of the room, making out very little — the small table, the trunks she had traveled with, and not much else. In front of her there seemed to be an odd shadow. Almost as if —

  “Ugh...” a groan came from the floor .

  Sorcha leapt back and screamed as the shadow turned into a man who rose from the floor of the room, the bottom of his half-naked body covered in what looked like trews, but the tartan breeches sagged around his legs, not like the tight hose that was typically worn. Interesting, she thought, but barely had time to dwell on his wardrobe choice as her mind processed the fact that this man was here alone, in her bedroom, with her .

  “I donna ken what you’re doing here, but ye must leave at once!” she said hurriedly, worried that someone should come and find him in her bedchamber. This was most unseemly, this was — what was he doing in here? Did he mistake her room for another? And where did he appear from? She hadn’t heard the door being opened. Had he snuck into the room earlier in the evening? An icy fear began to creep into her chest, as she opened her mouth to call for help .

  “What in the — where the hell am I ?”

  The man turned about the room, squinting as if trying to latch onto something familiar. His eyes finally landed on her, and she gave a start. Hazel eyes peered out at her beneath his dark brown hair, which he wore quite short and close to his head. A light stubble of hair dusted his chin, a dimple in the middle of it under his full lips. The first thought that jumped into Sorcha’s mind was of how beautiful he was. She had never seen a man so appealing, and a strange feeling struck her. She was distracted, however by his bewildered expression. He seemed as puzzled as she as to how he arrived here .

  He gazed at her in equal curiosity, drinking her in, his eyes serious and searching .

  “You’re in my bedchamber, as you must be well aware,” she finally responded. “As I said, ye must leave. Otherwise, I shall call for help .”

  “But, I — how did I get here ?”

  “‘Tis an interesting question, and one I should very much like to know the answer to,” she replied. “Ye appeared from seemingly nowhere — did ye hide in here earlier in the day? There is not much room, I should like to know how ye managed it .”

  “I didn’t hide here! I just appeared . This has got to be some strange nightmare. Who are you? Am I still at Fetteresso ?”

  “Aye, ‘tis Fetteresso. I’ve just arrived myself, two nights past. Ye must know of that however. ‘Tis why we’re all here. Were you at the dinner this eve ?”

  “Dinner? No, no one told me there was anything planned here. I just rode my bike into town to the Chinese restaurant. Oh God, what was in that food? Did it make me sleepwalk ?”

  “Chi-nese?” she looked at him in question, as she held the blankets over her body. Somehow, though, she didn’t feel afraid of this man. He was too unsure himself for her to be fearful. She knew she should call for help, but she felt pity for him and his confusion. “Sleep-walking? Are you ill?” she asked .

  “I -- no, I don’t think so,” he replied, now wandering around the room. “Wow, this room really is true to its original state, isn’t it? Pretty cold though. It could use a some insulation, and a coat of paint at the very least. This bed looks pretty comfy, though I’m not sure about
the blankets hanging from above. What kind of mattress is this, anyway? I’ve never seen anything like it. Seems a little… scratchy. Is it just you here ?”

  “My maid prefers to sleep in another room, which is fine with me,” she replied. “She snores .”

  He stopped walking and looked at her .

  “You’re right -- this is kind of awkward. I’m really sorry, I don’t know how I got into this part of the castle. I thought they were supposed to be separated into different houses. I’ll find my way back to mine. Again, my apologies. What number is this ?”

  “Number?”

  “Yeah, which house? Mine is 5 .”

  “I do not know what ye speak of. I have the second chamber in the right corridor .”

  “OK...,” he looked at her a little strangely. “Thanks anyway. Goodnight and I’m sorry, again .”

  He made for the door, and paused in front of it. What was he doing? she thought .

  “Well, this is interesting,” he said. “How is this door hanging here? I’ve never seen hinges like this .”

  He tested it, moving it back and forth .

  “No lock?” He shrugged his shoulders, and opened it, letting himself out. “Good night .”

  She looked after him, utterly bewildered. What in the heavens was that all about? And where had he come from? It was as if suddenly he had just appeared in her bedroom in the middle of the night. And he spoke so strangely. Was he English? She didn’t think so, yet he seemed to speak the language well, but in a way she had never heard before. She tried to resettle herself, but now realized sleep was far from her .

  As she tossed in her bed, suddenly the door burst open .

  “OK, I need help.” The man was back, this time his eyes somewhat crazed as he looked around him in panic. “What in the hell kind of place is this? Some kind of kooky museum where you can book stays? There are guards out there dressed in old costumes, and when I touched a sword, my finger bled! I found my way outside and this is not the same castle where I went to bed. Where am I ?”

  Sorcha rose from the bed now, trying to calm and quiet him. She picked up her earasaid and wrapped it around herself for warmth and modesty .

  “I dinna ken of what you speak, but perhaps Fergus can help you .”

  “Fergus?”

  “Aye, Fergus Keith, he’s the castellan .”

  “Is he from here? Perhaps he knows how I got here. I shouldn’t be here. I just came to find Emilia and now I don’t even know where I am .”

  “Emilia? That does sound familiar,” Sorcha furrowed her brow. “I believe I was introduced to an Emilia at dinner this evening .”

  “Wonderful!” the man replied. “What did she look like? Blonde hair? Freckles ?”

  “Aye, I believe so,” Sorcha responded. “She was married, to a laird from a nearby clan. They had a babe with them -- a girl mayhap ?”

  “That can’t be,” he said, shaking his head. “I mean, it sounds like her but she couldn’t be married, or have a child -- I saw her just six months ago .”

  Sorcha shrugged her shoulders. “‘Tis all I know. As I said, perhaps Fergus can help you in the morning .”

  He nodded, then looked around the room, as if considering his next move. She had an urge to ask him to stay with her, but knew she should be actually trying to make him leave .

  “What time is it?” he asked her. What kind of question was that? She wasn’t sure why he looked at his wrist, or why he thought she would know the current time .

  “Currently? I wouldna know -- you would have to check the turret clock, if there is one here. I havena seen one at Fetteresso, though in truth I also haven’t had much chance to wander far from the keep .”

  “Do you have a watch? Or a phone? Actually, if I could borrow your iPhone, that would hopefully solve all our problems. I can search my location, and then call the owner from Fetteresso to see how I can get back to my suite .”

  What on earth was this man rambling about? Sorcha began to realize he was quite mad. He needed help, but she wasn’t sure who to summon. Perhaps her father? He would likely hand him over to Fergus, however, and she wasn’t sure what the Keiths would do to him. She realized she really should, at the very least, force him out of her room, but he looked so helpless and confused. And, she admitted to herself, he was incredibly good-looking, and she wanted to do what she could to help him .

  “Could you -- perhaps -- explain to me more of what you are looking for? This -- fond ?”

  “A phone? You know, a cell phone, you call people on it, and with a smart phone you can look things up? I know we’re in the Highlands, sweetheart, but you have to have a phone around here .”

  She stared at him a moment, her expression blank .

  “Perhaps I should go fetch my father,” she said, making for the door .

  “No, don’t wake him up, it’s fine. Is there a house phone anywhere? That would work too. Very 20th century of you, but I like the old fashioned-ness of it .”

  “Twentieth century? What does the future have to do with which you speak ?”

  “The future?” His hands were on his hips now, as he was beginning to get frustrated, his temper sparking through. “The past of course. Why are you putting me on like this ?”

  “I’m not sure of what you speak. It is 1546 -- the 16th century, and therefore the 20th is, very much, the future .”

  He stared at her, unmoving, and, in fact, unblinking .

  “The 16th century?” he finally croaked out. “Is this some kind of prank ?”

  “I dinna ken you, why would I do a prank?” she asked him. “In fact, I should like to know if some malicious act is being put on me as well. Somehow you have appeared in my room, and are not making any sense at all .”

  He didn’t seem to have any words, and there was soon a knock on the door, before it opened a crack. “Miss? The light is beginning to -- oh, hello there .”

  Sorcha’s maid came into the room .

  “Fiona!” she exclaimed. “Please, come quickly and shut the door behind you. ‘Tis not as it appears, I assure you. This man is as confused as I am as to how he appeared in my chamber and we are trying to determine how he arrived. He seems to be equally as confused as I and --”

  The man cut her off, striding across the room to Fiona, his face furrowed in anger. “You!” he said, pointing his finger at her. “You’re the cab driver! What is going on here? This woman seems to think she is in the 16th century, and this place is supposedly Fetteresso but looks like a museum from the Middle Ages. Can you take me back to the house where I’m staying ?”

  The woman looked at him with a smirk on her face. “Yer where you went to sleep, son. Ye did as I said -- the first step at least,” she said. “Now, I will show you to your quarters. We shall say you are one of Sorcha’s guards, perhaps. Should her father ask, you were assigned by the Keiths; as far as the Keiths know, you arrived with the Singleirs. Come, I’ll find you appropriate attire .”

  With that, she pulled the man out of the room, leaving Sorcha once again alone in her room, completely flabbergasted .

  5

  Bryan

  T he corridors were wide and spacious, the ceilings all very square and stone, with the exception of the circular entrance. Bryan followed the woman in front of him, her robe trailing on the floor behind her. Her hair was as he remembered it, wild and frizzy, a red so vibrant it stood out in stark contrast to the dull surroundings .

  “Fiona, was it?” he asked her. He had never been one for remembering names, and he felt he needed much more information from this woman .

  “Yes, dear,” she responded .

  “Can you tell me what is going on? Where am I ?”

  “Perhaps you’re asking the wrong question,” she said cryptically. “It is not where you are, persay .”

  His anger rising to the surface, he strode in front of her and grasped her shoulders. “Stop talking in riddles, please ! Where am I and what have you done to me ?”

  She reached up and
calmly removed his hands from her shoulders, looking out of the corner of her eye at the guard near the front entrance. “Sorcha told you the year. Why is it so hard to believe ?”

  “You expect me to believe that I am in 1546?” he scoffed. “I have studied many different phenomenon and philosophies, and time travel, I tell you, is not possible .”

  “No?” she raised her eyebrows. “And whyever not ?”

  “It’s been studied. Yes, there is the space-time continuum theory from Einstein, but we would have met time travelers already if it were possible, would we not have? And according to his theories, one can likely only move forward in time, not back, so how could it be possible for me to be here ?”

  “This Einstein of whom you speak,” she said. “Did he find any other theories regarding this ?”

  “Well, he did suggest there could be wormholes, but nothing has ever been -- ”

  He looked at her expression, her eyebrows raised and a knowing twinkle in her eye .

  “No,” he said vehemently. “In that room -- you’re trying to tell me -- no -- it can’t be .”

  “Why did ye come to Scotland? What are you searching for in your heart ?”

  “Well, I came to find Emilia .”

  “And why did ye do that ?”

  “So I could move on with my life .”

  She smiled, nodded, and continued down the long hall, infuriating him. She eventually turned in at another wooden door that looked very similar to the woman’s bedroom where he had arrived .

  He thought of the woman in bed. Once she had lit the candle beside her, he saw she was a beauty, that was for sure. Her hair had been intricately braided, and the blue-green eyes that had peered out at him from below a high forehead and classic nose had been so bright and alive. She was gorgeous, and he was inexplicably drawn to her. Had he not found himself in the middle of her room in the pitch black of night, he would have wanted to learn more about her -- he thought Fiona had called her Sorcha. The name was perfect for her, a fitting description .