Read Online Time Masters Book One; The Call (An Urban Fantasy, Time Travel Romance) by Geralyn Beauchamp - Free Book Online
Authors: Geralyn Beauchamp
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about something. At the moment Dallan didn’t care what he was so happy about, so long as he took the wee lad from his lap.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t about to happen.
“Lany and I have a slight emergency to take care of. You don’t mind keeping an eye on Vyn a while longer, do you?”
“Can ye no take him with you?’ Dallan asked, trying to keep the pleading sound in his voice to a minimum.
“Oh, I’m afraid not,” John beg an in time to catch Dallan’s fi erce look. “Kwaku is involved and…”
Dallan’s look suddenly turned mu rderous. “Say no more, John.” He sighed in resignation. “Th e lad can stay here. How long will ye be away?”
“About twenty minutes, maybe thirty.”
“Best be off then,” Dallan grumbled. The Scot didn’t really want the boy there, but knew as well as John that Vyn would be safer if he stayed. After what the bloody heathen did to Padric, he would take no chance s with any of the younger lads. Dallan began to seethe just thinking about it.
Vyn gazed at him curiously. “Why do you look like that?”
“Like what?” Dallan asked as John stepped into the cottage. He took an odd w riting instrument out of his fl owing robes and carefully placed it on the small table against the wall.
“Like you’re going to be sick,” Vyn exclaimed with unrestrained glee. “My dad looks like that sometimes, right before he throws up!”
John abruptly turned and shot the boy a father’s warning glare.
Vyn defi antly glared right back. “Well, he does!”
John ignored him and looked to Dallan. “I’ll be back.” He looked at Vyn. “And you behave yourself.” He then left the cottag e to allow young Master Mosgofi an the opportunity t o dissect the Scot as he saw fi t.
Vyn didn’t waste any time. “Do you miss Scotland?” he blurted out suddenly.
A painful gasp sounded from outside the cottage door, distracting Dallan long enough to sigh. If he didn’t know any better, he’d have thought the interview was still underway, only the interviewer had changed; it now obvious that Vyn had been left on purpose. Dallan gritted his teeth knowing he was in for it. He always avoided the younger lads as much as possible, for obvious reasons, and one in particular. Perhaps it had become obvious to others now.
The big Scot stared Vyn right in the eye, the boy returning the look boldly. “Well?” Vyn began, his tone demanding. “Do you miss Scotland?”
Dallan’s look softened as he remembe red having Alasdair in his lap. Was it so long ago? Had so many years passed already? Saints but he was tired—tired of being trapped in Genis Lee, tired of having his life dictated by Kwaku, directed, overseen, dispatched day in and day out. Tired of being lonely.
He let himself give in to the boy’s demands and answered with a softened voice, “Aye, laddie. That I do.”
“Will you tell me about it?” Vyn asked innocently.
Dallan chuckl ed lightly. John Eaton was definitely diff erent from the Councilors sent before him, and the opposite of Kwaku Awahnee. What could it hurt; he thought. He so liked to talk of home, a luxury he’d been denied by the heathen for far too long.
Dallan smiled slightly. “Aye, laddie, I will.”
* * *
John and Lany listened to the Scot tell young Vyn of his belov ed Scotland in a cottage not twenty yards away. The simple communications device John had left on the table in the smaller cottage picked up even the tiniest of sounds emitted by Dallan and the boy.
At last there was hope as Dallan’s voice began to take on a tender yet teasing tone with Vyn, telling him of Glencoe, of France, and of the Faerie Folk, a very encouraging sign. Yet, not once did Dallan mention Alasdair.
No matter, thought John. He knew it would take time.
All night long on my bed
I looked for the one my heart loves;
I looked for him but did not fi nd him.
I will get up now and go about the city,
Th rough its streets and squares;
I will search for
Unfortunately, that wasn’t about to happen.
“Lany and I have a slight emergency to take care of. You don’t mind keeping an eye on Vyn a while longer, do you?”
“Can ye no take him with you?’ Dallan asked, trying to keep the pleading sound in his voice to a minimum.
“Oh, I’m afraid not,” John beg an in time to catch Dallan’s fi erce look. “Kwaku is involved and…”
Dallan’s look suddenly turned mu rderous. “Say no more, John.” He sighed in resignation. “Th e lad can stay here. How long will ye be away?”
“About twenty minutes, maybe thirty.”
“Best be off then,” Dallan grumbled. The Scot didn’t really want the boy there, but knew as well as John that Vyn would be safer if he stayed. After what the bloody heathen did to Padric, he would take no chance s with any of the younger lads. Dallan began to seethe just thinking about it.
Vyn gazed at him curiously. “Why do you look like that?”
“Like what?” Dallan asked as John stepped into the cottage. He took an odd w riting instrument out of his fl owing robes and carefully placed it on the small table against the wall.
“Like you’re going to be sick,” Vyn exclaimed with unrestrained glee. “My dad looks like that sometimes, right before he throws up!”
John abruptly turned and shot the boy a father’s warning glare.
Vyn defi antly glared right back. “Well, he does!”
John ignored him and looked to Dallan. “I’ll be back.” He looked at Vyn. “And you behave yourself.” He then left the cottag e to allow young Master Mosgofi an the opportunity t o dissect the Scot as he saw fi t.
Vyn didn’t waste any time. “Do you miss Scotland?” he blurted out suddenly.
A painful gasp sounded from outside the cottage door, distracting Dallan long enough to sigh. If he didn’t know any better, he’d have thought the interview was still underway, only the interviewer had changed; it now obvious that Vyn had been left on purpose. Dallan gritted his teeth knowing he was in for it. He always avoided the younger lads as much as possible, for obvious reasons, and one in particular. Perhaps it had become obvious to others now.
The big Scot stared Vyn right in the eye, the boy returning the look boldly. “Well?” Vyn began, his tone demanding. “Do you miss Scotland?”
Dallan’s look softened as he remembe red having Alasdair in his lap. Was it so long ago? Had so many years passed already? Saints but he was tired—tired of being trapped in Genis Lee, tired of having his life dictated by Kwaku, directed, overseen, dispatched day in and day out. Tired of being lonely.
He let himself give in to the boy’s demands and answered with a softened voice, “Aye, laddie. That I do.”
“Will you tell me about it?” Vyn asked innocently.
Dallan chuckl ed lightly. John Eaton was definitely diff erent from the Councilors sent before him, and the opposite of Kwaku Awahnee. What could it hurt; he thought. He so liked to talk of home, a luxury he’d been denied by the heathen for far too long.
Dallan smiled slightly. “Aye, laddie, I will.”
* * *
John and Lany listened to the Scot tell young Vyn of his belov ed Scotland in a cottage not twenty yards away. The simple communications device John had left on the table in the smaller cottage picked up even the tiniest of sounds emitted by Dallan and the boy.
At last there was hope as Dallan’s voice began to take on a tender yet teasing tone with Vyn, telling him of Glencoe, of France, and of the Faerie Folk, a very encouraging sign. Yet, not once did Dallan mention Alasdair.
No matter, thought John. He knew it would take time.
All night long on my bed
I looked for the one my heart loves;
I looked for him but did not fi nd him.
I will get up now and go about the city,
Th rough its streets and squares;
I will search for
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