Time Masters Book One; The Call (An Urban Fantasy, Time Travel Romance) by Geralyn Beauchamp Page B
Authors: Geralyn Beauchamp
Ads: Link
irritation.
“Dallan,” John began as he motioned to the little boy. “Th is is Lany’s younger son, Vynant; he’ll be no bother I assure you.”
Dallan turned his now-scowling face to John. “Bother?” he managed to say through clenched teeth.
“Mr. Eaton off ered to keep an eye on him while I take care of some things,” Lany explained. “You don’t mind, do you, Mr. MacDonald?”
Dallan thrust his scowl at Lany, who caught it gracefully and seemed to toss it over his shoulder to land somewhere outside, a pleasant smile on his own face. “Ah, I see you don’t mind. Then perhaps you could help Mr. Eaton out. Vyn can be a trial at times.”
Dallan sucked air through his nose as his jaw began to twitch slightly. He swallowed hard, obviously at war with some unwanted emotion.
“He’ll be fi ne, Lany,” John grinned. “Oh, I do need to give you a few instructions before you leave.” He turned to Dallan who now sat like a statue, nervously eyeing young Vyn. “If you will excuse me, Dallan? Th is will only take a moment.”
Dallan suddenly looked at John as if he’d just sentenced him to hang. All he could do was give the Councilor a tight-lipped nod as the twitch danced merrily across his usually handsome face. A face now contorted into something resembling a gargoyle. He watched the two Councilors exchange a look before they slipped out the door, leaving him alone with what he knew was trouble.
Sure enough, as soon as they left, the boy sauntered up to the big Scot’s chair, got his face as close to Dallan’s as he could, squinted his little eyes, and began to study the legendary Weapons Master of Genis Lee. Reluctantly, Dallan looked into those eyes.
It was one of the biggest mistakes he could ever make.
Vyn’s eyes were alive. Their gray depths hinted of steel and independence, promisi ng to one day hold their own fi erce warrior’s stares within them. Dallan didn’t want to respond to what he saw, but he did, and smiled lopsidedly.
Vyn grinned back. “You’re going to be the new Time Master!”
Dallan’s lopsided smile deserted him. He glared at the boy, his eyes narrowed to slits.
“Yep, thought so.” Vyn stated as he nodded to himself and again studied Dallan with a professional eye. What sort of profession, the Scot had no idea, but the child had such a confi dent look on his face he could think of no other way to describe it.
Dallan folded his arms over his chest and snorted. Vyn copied the action, sans snort, and took on the same scowl as well. “You’re not happy, are you?”
Dallan raised a cu rious brow but said nothing. Th e chestnut hair, gray eyes and outright boldness of the boy reminded him too much of another. He swallowed again and shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
“How come you don’t talk?” Vyn demanded, his mimicked scowl and stance still in place. He blew a few st r ands of hair out of his e yes and continued to glare defi antly up at Dallan.
“How come ye feel ye need to ask?” Dallan growled back. He suddenly caught his tone and quickly reminded hi mself this was only a child. Th ere was no need to frighten him.
“You talk funny!” Vyn’s face suddenly took on a look of bright curiosity. “How come you talk like that?”
Dallan’s jaw clenched as he forced himself to answer. By all the Saints ; this lad was so much like Alasdair. So much it hurt. “Because I come from some place far away.”
“Where?” Vyn asked as he leaned closer to the Weapons Master.
Dallan began to fi dget again. “Scotland,” was whispered shakily as he fought to keep control of his surging emotions.
“Where’s that? I’ve never heard of it before,”
“If I ken where it was, lad, I wouldna be here.”
“Why not? Don’t you like it here? I love it! I think it’s great!” Vyn replied and then unexpectedly jumped up into Dallan’s lap.
“Oh, the two of you are getting along fi ne,” John said as he stood in the doo rway, looking immensely satisfi ed
“Dallan,” John began as he motioned to the little boy. “Th is is Lany’s younger son, Vynant; he’ll be no bother I assure you.”
Dallan turned his now-scowling face to John. “Bother?” he managed to say through clenched teeth.
“Mr. Eaton off ered to keep an eye on him while I take care of some things,” Lany explained. “You don’t mind, do you, Mr. MacDonald?”
Dallan thrust his scowl at Lany, who caught it gracefully and seemed to toss it over his shoulder to land somewhere outside, a pleasant smile on his own face. “Ah, I see you don’t mind. Then perhaps you could help Mr. Eaton out. Vyn can be a trial at times.”
Dallan sucked air through his nose as his jaw began to twitch slightly. He swallowed hard, obviously at war with some unwanted emotion.
“He’ll be fi ne, Lany,” John grinned. “Oh, I do need to give you a few instructions before you leave.” He turned to Dallan who now sat like a statue, nervously eyeing young Vyn. “If you will excuse me, Dallan? Th is will only take a moment.”
Dallan suddenly looked at John as if he’d just sentenced him to hang. All he could do was give the Councilor a tight-lipped nod as the twitch danced merrily across his usually handsome face. A face now contorted into something resembling a gargoyle. He watched the two Councilors exchange a look before they slipped out the door, leaving him alone with what he knew was trouble.
Sure enough, as soon as they left, the boy sauntered up to the big Scot’s chair, got his face as close to Dallan’s as he could, squinted his little eyes, and began to study the legendary Weapons Master of Genis Lee. Reluctantly, Dallan looked into those eyes.
It was one of the biggest mistakes he could ever make.
Vyn’s eyes were alive. Their gray depths hinted of steel and independence, promisi ng to one day hold their own fi erce warrior’s stares within them. Dallan didn’t want to respond to what he saw, but he did, and smiled lopsidedly.
Vyn grinned back. “You’re going to be the new Time Master!”
Dallan’s lopsided smile deserted him. He glared at the boy, his eyes narrowed to slits.
“Yep, thought so.” Vyn stated as he nodded to himself and again studied Dallan with a professional eye. What sort of profession, the Scot had no idea, but the child had such a confi dent look on his face he could think of no other way to describe it.
Dallan folded his arms over his chest and snorted. Vyn copied the action, sans snort, and took on the same scowl as well. “You’re not happy, are you?”
Dallan raised a cu rious brow but said nothing. Th e chestnut hair, gray eyes and outright boldness of the boy reminded him too much of another. He swallowed again and shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
“How come you don’t talk?” Vyn demanded, his mimicked scowl and stance still in place. He blew a few st r ands of hair out of his e yes and continued to glare defi antly up at Dallan.
“How come ye feel ye need to ask?” Dallan growled back. He suddenly caught his tone and quickly reminded hi mself this was only a child. Th ere was no need to frighten him.
“You talk funny!” Vyn’s face suddenly took on a look of bright curiosity. “How come you talk like that?”
Dallan’s jaw clenched as he forced himself to answer. By all the Saints ; this lad was so much like Alasdair. So much it hurt. “Because I come from some place far away.”
“Where?” Vyn asked as he leaned closer to the Weapons Master.
Dallan began to fi dget again. “Scotland,” was whispered shakily as he fought to keep control of his surging emotions.
“Where’s that? I’ve never heard of it before,”
“If I ken where it was, lad, I wouldna be here.”
“Why not? Don’t you like it here? I love it! I think it’s great!” Vyn replied and then unexpectedly jumped up into Dallan’s lap.
“Oh, the two of you are getting along fi ne,” John said as he stood in the doo rway, looking immensely satisfi ed
Similar Books
