by Annis Reid
Her cheeks colored, and he did wish his comment did not sound as though he were holding her accountable for the money he’d already spent. Nothing could be further from the truth. She was doing him a great service by agreeing to this half-formed idea of his. The last thing she needed was to feel guilty for simply asking a question.
“Think nothing of it,” he was quick to say, but the damage had been done. Her feelings were hurt.
While he would gladly and even happily swing a sword at a man who deserved it, the notion of hurting a woman’s feelings was nearly unbearable. A weakness, perhaps, but there was nothing he could do about it. It was simply his way.
She remained silent as the innkeeper led them up a narrow set of stairs to the second floor of the long building. There was a great deal of noise coming from the main room, where most of the inn’s guests took their meal for the evening. The wine flowed, and tall tales were being spun at that very moment. He suspected that more than a few rather weak, cowardly men were making themselves out to be great heroes for the benefit of those listening.
He turned to the little innkeeper, a harried-looking man. The sort who appeared to always have ten thoughts running wild in their mind at a time. Sliding an extra coin into the man’s hand, he murmured, “If someone could bring us a hot meal, it would be much appreciated.”
The fact that the man’s demeanor improved immediately upon feeling the weight of new coin in his hand did not come as a surprise. “Why certainly, I would be pleased to do so.” With one last glance at Melissa, who was still rather bonny even in plain, shapeless garments, the man scurried down the hall, muttering to himself.
Now, it was only the two of them. Certainly, there was a great deal of commotion coming from downstairs—the thin floorboards did little to block out the laughter and shouting—but they were otherwise alone. There was something about a closed door, a walled-off room, that added intimacy to the situation even though they’d been alone together on the road before then.
“It’s nice,” Melissa offered, though he suspected she felt the room was anything but.
“Quite different than what ye are accustomed to, I would imagine.”
She snorted. “You would imagine right,” she allowed. “Things are a lot different where I come from. But I don’t need much. This is a lot better than sleeping out on the ground, I’m sure.”
“Ye are correct about that. A bed under a roof is nearly always preferable. But I have never been one to turn down the opportunity to be in the out-of-doors.”
He asked himself why her eyes traveled over his body before her cheeks flushed and she averted her gaze. “You seem like the type who would be more at home outside, in the fresh air. On horseback.”
“Aye, I admit that.” He studied her, noting the way her hands traveled over the bed linens in an absent, nervous manner. The sinking of her teeth into her bottom lip. “You have nothing to fear from me.”
“Oh, I know that. I do.” She lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “It’s just that I don’t know about anybody else, you see. I don’t know if everybody else is going to be as nice to me as you are. You’re the only person I trust right now.”
“And I am all ye need.” There was a great deal of confidence in his words, perhaps a bit of bravado. Yet he fully believed them to be true. Now that she had agreed to do this tremendous thing for him, he would stop at nothing to ensure her safety.
To say nothing of the fact that the more believable she was, the better off they would both be.
“I hope you didn’t take offense downstairs, when I was nervous about us having a room together. That’s all it was. Nerves.” She wrapped her arms about her slim form, rocking slightly as if she tried to comfort herself. “I didn’t mean anything personal against you, that’s all I’m trying to say.”
“Tis all right, lass. I understand. I suppose ‘tis a bit of a shock, sharing a room with a strange man.” The poor thing, she had probably never been alone with a man in this way before. She was unmarried, she said, and like as not unaware of the ways of men.
“Among other things,” she chuckled. “I’m just confused about a lot of things right now. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
She sounded so small, so helpless. Her shapeless, gray dress covered much more of her than her garment had. What did she call it? A sundress?
This new garment covered her to the wrists, hanging down around her ankles. Hardly the sort of thing the wife of the son of a laird would wear in public, but he had secured something more suitable for their arrival at the Fraser keep.
She picked at the rough fabric, her hands never ceasing in their movements. She had described herself as a nervous talker; he would have added that she was a nervous mover, as well.
“While I have never been through the sort of thing ye are facing, I have been in a place where I knew not what to do next,” he offered. “And there is one piece of advice my father offered many years ago which I have found to be helpful. I would share it with ye, if ye dinna mind.”
She smiled. “Not at all. I’m glad to get any help possible.”
“Here it is, then. Dinna think about every last thing which lies ahead. One thing at a time, one thought at a time. One problem at a time.”
Her smile widened. A nice smile, a warm and genuine smile which lit up her face. “I guess good advice doesn’t change much over the years, does it?”
“I suppose it does not.”
She blew out a long breath through pursed lips. “Okay, then. What’s the first problem I have to tackle? How to convince everybody expecting a wedding at the Frasers’ that we’re married and I’m from… here. From this time.”
“Indeed. And as I have tried to tell ye, you might leave most of that to me.”
“Short of telling everybody I’m mute, that’s not going to be possible. I think you’re a little naïve, no offense, thinking everybody’s going to back down just because you ask them to. I’m not supposed to be there. You’re supposed to be marrying this Flora person. Obviously, they’re going to have a lot of questions, and a lot of them are going to be directed at me.”
Before he had the chance to assure her that this would not be the case—though, truth be told, he did not know whether it would be or not—she slapped a hand to her forehead, her mouth falling open.
“Holy crap! I completely forgot!”
“Forgot what?”
She was in a fury, tearing through the bags and packs which he’d carried up from the saddle. Her belongings were in there, as well, wrapped in his tartan so as to not accidentally fall into view.
“There was something in the pamphlet. Something about your family and the MacNeills. I swear to God, it was in there.” She withdrew the bag which had been hanging over her shoulder when they met. Leather, or something that looked like it. Brown, bulging. She carried quite a bit inside.
Curiosity struck him of a sudden. What sort of items did a woman of her time carry? He realized he was about to learn things he never would have imagined learning.
She withdrew a great many things and laid them on the bed, acting with no sense of ceremony or caution. He recognized nothing but a hairbrush. Picking up a rectangular object made of some material he’d never seen before, he asked, “What is this?”
“My phone, which is completely useless to me right now.”
“Phone.” He tested the word, one which he had never heard before. “And what is a phone?”
“Oh, gosh. How much time do you have?” Before he had the chance to answer, she held up a packet of paper and let out a sigh of relief. “I knew it was here.”
She brushed some of the items aside, making room to sit on the bed while she turned page after page. It was so bright! He had never seen paper like it. So many colors, so finely made. The ink did not smear as Melissa’s fingers ran over one page after another.
Truly, she came from a time of many wonders. Now he was really starting to believe. Where there’d been doubt, now it was waning.
; “Here it is!”
He looked over her shoulder, unable to understand just what had captured her attention.
“It says here that the MacNeill clan, who used to live in the ruined castle, united in marriage with Clan MacManus, and thanks to the union, they were able to strengthen their position in the highlands and beat back clans MacIntosh and Campbell when they attempted to steal land for themselves.”
Leith took this in, stepping away from the bed. “United in marriage.”
“That’s what it says.” She held it out, then pulled back. “Can you read?”
“Of course, I can read.” Yet he could not bring himself to take it from her. Seeing it for himself would make it all the more real.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, “but it seems like your marriage to this Flora person means a lot more than you think it does. There’s more riding on it than just whether or not you feel like being her husband.”
“Silence yourself!”
He did not intend for it to come out that way, not at all. She was the last person who deserved his ire. All the lass tried to do was warn him. He supposed he ought to be grateful to her for sharing what she knew.
It just so happened that what she knew was not what he wanted to hear. Hardly the sort of thing he could hold her responsible for.
“Forgive me,” he murmured, going to the window and looking out over the road below. Anything was better than seeing hurt in her eyes. Or worse, fear. He knew he had a way about him when he was angered, that his size and strength might worry a lass of her size. One with no weapons at her disposal and no knowledge of the world in which she currently existed.
The silence in the room was heavy, and he knew it had to do with his guilt. Perhaps Flora MacNeill was not the problem. Perhaps it was him. He could not be in the presence of a woman for hours without upsetting her and making a fool of himself in the bargain.
How was he expected to marry a lass and make a decent husband?
“The very future of my clan rests upon whether I wed the lass.” The words left a sour taste in his mouth, and he was loath to speak them. But that made them no less true.
“It seems that way,” Melissa whispered. “I can only imagine it was your marriage that they’re talking about here. These other clans tried to take land from your clan, and it was the combined effort of your men and the MacNeill men that drove them back. I mean, unless you think there’s another way you can form an alliance without the two of you being married, though I have to wonder if that would be possible with you breaking the faith right now.”
He bristled at her dismissive tone. The way she made him out to be a villain in the situation when, truly, he wished for nothing more than peace and prosperity for his clan. Why should he destroy his future in pursuit of those things, though? It simply did not sit well on his heart, the entire situation.
“Unless there’s somebody else who could marry her, instead.”
Perhaps she should not have said that. For those few words sparked yet another idea in his mind, one which might lead him to even greater peril.
From his younger brother, of all people.
8
“Your brother? You’re going to palm her off on your brother?” She couldn’t help but giggle softly behind her hand. “You make Flora sound like a monster. Do you hate your brother that much?”
Leith shook his head, stone-faced. “Just the opposite. He is a good lad, fine and goodhearted and capable.”
Melissa waited for more. When nothing else came, she prompted, “But you’re going to sell him off in marriage, anyway?”
“What else is there for me to do? Besides, perhaps he will not loathe her as I do—though I doubt it. She does have a younger sister, Fiona. Even lovelier, and far easier to imagine being wed to. He is of age now and she will be soon enough.”
“But wouldn’t they have to wait for Flora to be married first, before Fiona can be handed off? Isn’t that the way it works?”
“Aye, that is so. I have no doubt her father would be quick to arrange another match. Truly, in the end, ‘tis all the same. Our clans would be united, and the future of everyone involved would be secure.”
“Except for Flora,” she pointed out. He didn’t want to hear it, that much was clear, but her conscience would bother her too much if she didn’t point out what was right in front of them. “You have to keep in mind what she’s going to think about this.”
“I dinna have to keep anything in mind,” he barked. There he went again, letting his temper get the better of him. It seemed like they had that in common, although she wasn’t big enough to snap a heavy limb in half the way he was. She didn’t need to see him do it to know he was capable of it.
She held her hands up. “Okay, okay. I’m just trying to help. Don’t get mad at me.”
“I am not angry with ye, lass. Perhaps it is myself with whom I’m angry.” There was nowhere else in the room to sit except on the bed, so Leith leaned his back against the wall next to the window and slid down to the floor.
She had never seen a man looked more miserable.
“Ye dinna ken the sort of lass we are speaking of. Flora is a terrible sort. Abusive to her servants, even in front of others. Which leads me to wonder how much worse she is in private, away from prying eyes. She is mean, cruel, and interested only in improving her station.”
That much, Melissa could understand. It was not a woman’s world, not even close. The best a woman could hope for was to marry well, to be set up for life, thanks to her husband. It was natural for a girl of that time to want the best for herself.
But abusive to the servants? That she couldn’t stomach. That was indefensible. Melissa couldn’t imagine a person acting that way unless they were rotten to the core.
Nor could she imagine a man like the one sitting in front of her married to a woman like that.
“You know her well, then?” she ventured.
“Well enough,” he snarled. “Do ye wish to know the worst thing of all?”
“If you’re willing to tell me,” she whispered, bracing herself.
“My father arranged this marriage when I was a wee lad and she was not yet born. He forgot to tell me until recently. Flora has come of age, and her father demands the terms be fulfilled. Until less than a fortnight ago, I was utterly unaware that I had been promised to her.”
He couldn’t be serious. Could he? He sure seemed serious. “Nobody told you?” she whispered, afraid to react beyond that.
“Indeed. Nobody told me.”
It happened before she could stop it. The first giggle worked its way from her mouth before she could clamp a hand over it and shoot him a look of apology.
His gaze was sharp, and maybe a little bit doleful. “I’m glad you find this amusing,” he growled.
She shook her head hard, her hand still over her mouth.
He growled this time. “Dinna tell me ye dinna find it amusing. Tis clear that ye do.”
She finally got a hold of herself long enough to clear her throat and lower her hand. “I’m sorry. Really. I’m not laughing at you, but rather the situation. I mean, it’s kind of funny in a dark way. Isn’t it?”
Clearly, he did not agree. If anything, his features shifted until his face was a mask of anger, frustration. Maybe even a little bit of betrayal thrown in to spice things up. Like he’d expected her to be on his side and didn’t know what to think of her reaction.
“How would it strike ye if I laughed over your situation?” he demanded, brows knitting together. That alone was enough to unsettle her. He was a powerful man with an equally powerful personality. He knew how to turn on that dark, dangerous part of himself when he felt like it—and he felt like it now. “What if I found it amusing, the fact that ye found yourself hundreds of years in the past? With nothing but a black rectangle and some other items to protect ye?”
“Okay, okay. I get it.” Anything to keep him from getting angrier.
Still, she couldn’t wrap her head around it. Nobody t
old this poor guy he was engaged to be married his entire life? “What if you had fallen in love with somebody else?”
“Fallen in love?” he snickered. “The eldest son of the laird does not have the luxury of being able to fall in love. We marry to further the alliances with neighboring clans.”
“That sucks.”
“Sucks?”
“Stinks,” she tried.
“Stinks. I believe I ken. And I agree with ye.” There was no mistaking the creasing at the outer edges of his eyes, though they were always sort of creased. A man who spent a lot of his time squinting in bright daylight. But now, he was amused by her choice of words. She’d take it.
“In your time…” He looked like he had no idea how to go on.
“It’s okay,” she assured him. “I know it’s tough to make sense of, and you might feel silly even entertaining the idea, but you can ask me whatever you want.”
“Silly,” he snorted. “Aye. I do, at that. I feel foolish. I suppose ye are quite fortunate that I did not assume ye to be a witch from the first. Some men may have.”
“Thanks.” She rubbed her arms to calm down the goosebumps his words created. “Like I need one more thing to be worried about.”
“Ye need worry not, so long as I am with ye,” he promised. “I would never accuse ye of such foolishness. I know ye are no witch.”
“How do you know?” she couldn’t help but ask. It wasn’t the right question, and the teasing note in her voice was probably way out of line, but she couldn’t help it. “How many witches have you known?”
“None that I am aware of,” he admitted.
“The how do you know?” She pressed on.
“Dinna tempt me, lass,” he warned with a growl. “Ye may force me to change my mind about ye.”
“Believe me,” she giggled. “I’m not a witch. I don’t even own a cat.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Never mind.” She started putting her things back into her bag, wondering when she would ever find the need to use any of them again. Lip gloss, mascara, a compact. Her wallet. Not even the money was worth anything now.
