She ran her hands over it, feeling the coldness of the surface. It was made of wood and solid enough. Tartan wool blankets covered her, the same color and style of tartan the strange man had been wearing across his chest.
The walls were white plaster and covered in tapestries. Instead of light fittings there were candles attached to the wall in iron stands. A single window to her left was open but there was no glass in it and the sill was at least two feet broad, set in thick walls. Beyond the window was bright light but from her position all she could see was a pale blue sky outside.
The floor was covered in straw and smelled sweet, like being in a barn just after harvest. There was not a single modern thing in the room. Apart from her.
Where was she? How had she got there?
The door at the far end opened and a woman in a wimple walked in, the rushes shifting under the hem of her white linen dress as she crossed to the bed. She was carrying a tray in her arms. “You’re awake,” the woman said. “And I see you’ve already annoyed Callum.”
“Callum?” Kerry blinked, wondering if this was a dream. “You don’t mean Callum MacLeod, do you?” His face came into her head again, her body stirring as she thought how good he’d looked despite his anger.
“Aye, lass. Are you saying your fiancé didnae introduce himself properly before he stormed off?”
“My fiancé?”
“Aye. You really did do some damage to your head if you dinnae remember getting engaged to the laird’s son. Here, drink this.” She set the tray down on the end of the bed and passed a horn cup over.
“What’s in it?”
“Nettle tea. Good for after a fall.”
Kerry took a sip. It wasn’t as bad as she’d been expecting. “You should try adding mint sometime. Is that what happened to me?” she asked as the woman straightened the blankets. “Did I fall?”
“Aye lass. We got a couple of the blacksmith’s boys to carry you up here.”
“And where is here?”
“The tower room.”
“The tower room of…?”
“MacCleod castle of course.”
Kerry felt her head pound as she tried to take it all in. “You’re telling me I’m in the garret of the east tower of MacCleod castle and I’m betrothed to Callum MacCleod?”
“Aye, lass. I’m glad your memory is returning, is it not? You know about this place then?”
“Sort of. I read it in a book. Can you help me up?”
“I’m not sure I should. I’m under strict instructions to keep you resting for at least a week.”
“Either help me up or I’m doing it anyway.” She swung her legs out of the blankets, surprised to see they were uncovered. “Where are my clothes?”
“You were naked when you were found, lass. We wanted to wait until you woke to dress you.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Was it bandits?”
“Was what bandits?” Kerry snapped, wrapping the blanket around her as she got slowly to her feet, the woman holding her arm to help.
“That stripped you and left you for dead outside the walls. We heard nothing but then you were just there. Did you fall from a horse or something?”
“Who’s we?”
“Me and Melissa. We were gathering the last of the blackberries when we found you. Not much point, they’re long past their best but they do still make good dye, I suppose. Do you really not remember any of this?”
Kerry almost stumbled as pain wracked her skull. A question had to be asked but she didn’t want to know the answer, not really. “If this is the tower and that was Callum MacCleod, what year is it?”
“It’s the year of our Lord, 1190, October the fifteenth to be exact.”
“1190?”
“Aye.”
“As in the year 1190?”
The woman nodded.
Kerry crossed to the window and looked down. Far below she could see a raised earthwork above a moat, thick brambles coating the slopes, sheep on top pulling at tufts of yellowing grass.
Lifting her head she looked out at the countryside beyond. It was a sea of greens and browns, low hills that rose past woodland to distant mountains. To the left, just visible, the ocean sparkled and shimmered like sunlight on a mackerel’s back. No roads, no cars, no houses. Just fields and mountains and the ocean beyond.
“This isn’t a dream, is it?” she asked, turning back around to face the woman. “This is real, isn’t it?”
“As real as I am,” the woman replied, holding out a linen nightshirt. “Now come and get back into bed before you faint.”
Kerry let the woman dress her before guiding her under the blankets once more. She’d seen Back to the Future enough times to know what was happening though arriving in the past naked had more of a Terminator vibe to it.
She was in the middle ages. Stephen Hawking eat your heart out. She couldn’t tell anyone how she’d done it though if she ever got home again. She had no idea how it had happened. She couldn’t remember anything between talking to her mom on the phone and then waking up to find that highlander telling her he wouldn’t marry her.
That reminded her. Why did they think she was his fiancée? Who had they mistaken her for? And more importantly, what would happen if his actual fiancé turned up? “Do you know my name?” she asked the woman who was busy pouring more nettle tea into the horn cup.
“Aye. Of course I do.”
“Who am I?”
“You’re Nessa MacKay. Are you all right? You look awful pale all of a sudden.”
“Could you let me rest a while. I feel a little queasy.”
“Of course. I’ll go fetch some lamb’s mint. It’s good for the stomach.”
She left, closing the door behind her. Kerry sank into the bed, pulling the covers up to her chin. “Relax,” she told herself out loud. “Just relax. There’s no need to panic. What would Marty McFly do? Probably try and get off with his mom, that’s not much use to me. What about the Terminator?” A thought occurred to her. “Maybe it’s more like Quantum Leap. Maybe I’m here to change something about the future. Ah, but Doc told Marty never to change the future. Which is it?”
She pulled the blanket over her head, shutting out the world above as she worked out what to do next. “One thing for sure, I can’t do much until my memory comes back. If I’m here to change things, I better wait and see what pops up. What else can I do but wait? I sure can’t get home until I work out how I got here.”
With a decision reached, she let her head emerge from the blankets again. The pain in her skull ebbed away, as if it had been waiting for her to choose to accept the reality of where she was.
“I’m in the past,” she said, smiling broadly. “I get to see what it was actually like then.” Her smile faded as she thought of her father. He would have killed to have been in her position. She felt a wave of sadness as she realized that even if she did make it home, she’d never be able to discuss it with him.
He was dead. That was something she remembered. He was a medieval history professor and he’d died of cancer four years ago. Well, four years ago and eight hundred years in the future. He hadn’t even been born yet. That thought made her head hurt again. What about her mother? She had just spoken to her before this happened. What had they been talking about?
Nothing else came back to her before the woman reappeared holding a bunch of strong smelling mint. “Nibble on this,” she said, passing it to Kerry. “One leaf at a time.”
“What’s your name?” Kerry asked. “You didn’t say before.”
“I’m Sheena. Are you hungry yet? Dinner is not for another couple of hours but I could have the kitchen prepare something cold for you if you like?”
“I would love that, thank you.”
“I’ll go tell them at once.”
“Can I come with you?”
“Do you feel strong enough?”
“I think so.”
“Then I shall fetch some proper clothing for you. I’ll be right back.”
&n
bsp; She returned a few minutes later bearing an armful of things. “You might have to help me dress,” Kerry said, not sure what part belonged to which. “What are these things?”
“This is a kirtle,” Sheena said, dropping something a lot like the nightshirt over her head. “Do you really not know that?”
“I’ve forgotten a lot,” Kerry covered. “Would you mind telling me what this lot is?” She put her arms up for the dress to go over the kirtle.
“The girdle helps bunch it up,” Sheena said, wrapping a thin woolen belt around her waist. “The fashion at the moment is for lots of folds. Try it this way. That’s it. Now put the hose on.”
Her legs were clad in plain hose and then she was provided with loose fitting leather shoes, seams on the outside.
“What’s that?” Kerry asked as Sheena picked up the last item, a white linen box.
“Your hat or do you want the world to see your hair and think you’re available? Only young lassies looking for a man have their hair on show around here.”
Into the hat, Sheena shoved most of her hair before passing her a pair of detachable sleeves that buttoned onto the dress. They hung down low from her arms and Sheena shook her head as she looked at them.
“The latest fashion,” she said by way of explanation. “I’m not a fan, myself but then I’m out of touch about most of the newfangled stuff that comes from Europe. How does all that feel?”
“Heavy and hot,” Kerry said before apologizing. “Sorry, I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. It looks lovely.”
“You’re only hot because of the fire in here. Wait until you get out into the wind outside. One thing though, we better avoid Callum. He doesnae want you wandering the castle.”
“Why not?”
Sheena looked torn, as if trying to decide what to say. “He doesnae want to see you.”
“He said that?”
“Aye, I saw him while I was getting your dress. Said you’re not to speak to him and he’ll not speak to you. When you’re well, he wants you to go home at once.”
“And where is my home?”
“Why, back on the mainland of course. Are you sure you’re well enough to go walking? Your memory is as patchy as my sewing skills.”
“I think the fresh air will do me good.”
“You’ll not get much of that in the kitchen but I suppose we should get some food in you. You’ve been out for seven days, did you ken that?”
“Seven days? No wonder I feel weak.”
“Weak for a week.” Sheena chuckled at her own joke. “Come on then, let’s go get you something to eat.”
Chapter Four
MacLeod castle was arranged in a square. There were fifteen foot walls surrounding the courtyard with a guard tower at each of the four corners. The walls were high but they shrank into obscurity next to the huge four storey keep that dominated the space, looming above the surrounding countryside. Crows circled the roof, occasionally divebombing any pigeons that dared to emerge from their loft. Callum knew the castle like the back of his hand. He had watched his father build it when he was nothing more than a wee bairn.
He looked across to the keep. At ground level the stores were nowhere near as full as the previous year but hopefully contained enough to last the winter. Above that the reception rooms were accessible from an external stone staircase. Guests of the castle went no further unless called up to the great hall to see the laird or one of his stewards. Above the great hall was the laird and lady’s bedchamber with further space for their servants. On the top floor were the stairs to the tower rooms, his room, the water tank, and the pigeon lofts.
Callum looked up at the top floor. She was there. Why had she come? He turned away, passing through the garden. Clothes were draped over the bushes to dry in the last of the autumn sun. Was that her dress? It looked like it. Was she naked up there while it dried?
His thoughts went back to the first time he saw her. He had marched into the keep ready to persuade her she was better off not marrying him. Then he saw her.
It was as if he’d never seen a woman before in his life. He walked into the room at the top of the east tower and there she was, asleep in the bed they’d provided. He had been told Nessa was not the most attractive of women, not surprising given she was a MacKay. But what lay before him in the bed, her eyes tightly closed, was a vision of beauty the like of which he’d never seen. The blanket had slumped off her body and her leg stuck out, a slender pale limb that drew his eye upward to what lay hidden behind the tartan.
He’d heard tales of fairies and sirens who lived out at sea, bewitching and beguiling men into mortal danger with their beauty. She was just like the stories. She was stunning even in repose and therein lay the risk. She wanted to trap him in marriage, force him to spend half his time dealing with MacKays. The thought was enough to make him shudder.
He had no intention of being tied down just to please his father. She might be beautiful but she was still a MacKay and an arch rival. He remembered seeing the head of his cousin on a spike outside MacKay castle. His father may have forgiven them for Lachlan’s death but he did not have such a short memory.
He had an entire speech worked out but it left his head the moment he saw her. She was laid on her back and other than a small dark patch on her neck, there was no sign of injury from her fall. She did indeed look angelic in repose. Such beauty. The blanket low enough to expose a hint of her bosom.
He had talked to Sheena before going in to see her. “Found naked on the earthworks outside the tower, “Sheena said. “As if she’d been dumped there or maybe fallen out of the sky. Like an angel sent by God Himself.”
Callum had laughed at the idea but looking at her sleeping so soundly, he began to have second thoughts. Then she opened her eyes and he was immediately lost in them. It was only his training that stopped him kissing her in that moment. He was just about able to keep his head despite the desire that coursed through him at the sight of those sparkling blue eyes. It was a close run thing though and when he opened his mouth he was still uncertain whether it was to speak or to embrace her.
At least she agreed with him that there was to be no marriage. Perhaps she was being forced into it by her parents same as him. He left her certain the marriage would not happen but as the days passed, he could not stop thinking about her.
He marched over to the archery targets, trying to wipe her out of his mind. She’d been recovering from her head injury for a week and in that time he’d only seen her twice, once in her room and once more in the garden where she’d been helping Nessa pick herbs. The sunlight had been on her face that day and she was lit as if by a glow from heaven itself. He had stood watching her laughing and talking and he ached to go over and join in.
He swore silently. Why couldn’t he get her out of his thoughts?
Rory and Ivar were lined up with their bows and he stood watching for a spell before moving over to the corner of the courtyard. In the shadow of the keep, the wooden practice swords were kept ready. Pulling one from the pile, he waved to Hamish who was leaning against the pentise, his arms folded. “Shall we get started?”
“I thought you’d got lost somewhere,” Hamish replied, crossing the space to the swords and choosing one for himself. “Or were you picking out your wedding attire.”
Callum jabbed at him with the sword, almost catching him before he had time to react.
At the last second Hamish swiped downward, jumping back at the same time. The blow missed him but only just. “Touchy subject I see,” Hamish said, adjusting his stance.
“I’m not getting married to a MacKay so the jests can stop,” Callum snapped, shifting right and swinging again.
Hamish blocked again. “Is that why you keep looking up at her tower? To remind yourself you dinnae want her fine legs wrapping around you?”
Callum cringed. Had it been that noticeable? He hadn’t deliberately been looking up there. He just glanced whenever he was passing by. If he thought about it though, he did pass
by an awful lot.
The fight moved gradually into the main courtyard, the archery practice stopping while everyone turned to watch. There was a lot to learn from observing Callum in action. He moved much faster than a man his height and weight should be able to and yet at times he barely seemed to shift at all to avoid the blows. Sweat was soon pouring down Hamish’s chest but it was a long time before Callum began to tire.
At last Hamish let his impatience get the better of him, lunging too far and allowing Callum to spin and catch him on the back of the leg, sending him sprawling in the mud.
A cheer went up as Callum held out a hand, helping him to his feet. “Well met,” he said. “Watch that lunge next time we’re out on patrol. Could get you killed.”
A squire passed them both a cloth and as Callum wiped the sweat from his eyes, he looked up again at the tower. For a brief moment he could have sworn he saw a face at the window but then there was nothing.
All week it had been the same. He’d catch glimpses of her but nothing more. Why did he even care? He had enough to deal with in his father’s absence. Each day began in the great hall, him on the dais, listening with the stewards to the petitions of the people, adjudicating over their disputes and trying to be fair to everyone as best he could.
He was no steward though. He was a warrior better suited to patrolling than signing contracts. He enjoyed the afternoon better, training with his men, making sure none of them were getting sloppy. One mistake out on patrol and it wouldn’t be a wooden sword to the back of the leg, it would be remorseless metal biting deep into flesh.
The evening of the seventh day since her arrival was different to the routine. The horns blew out at the guard post and Callum was glad to hear them. The twin blast that echoed around the valley meant only one thing. The laird was returning.
Let his father come back and take over the running of the place. Let him get back out on patrol where he belonged, away from the bewitching spell of Nessa up in her tower.
Promised to the Highlander: A Scottish Time Travel Romance Page 3
