“What am I to do now, Dad? I can’t get back. I’m falling hard for a mad Highland warrior who is not interested in me for any purpose other than to slack his lust. To tell the truth, I’m not complaining too much on that accord, he is quite thrilling actually. Okay, I’m sure you don’t want to hear about that anyway.” She missed her father with a bone-grinding ache. He had been her constant champion. Their relationship exemplified much more than mere parent and child. He had always been her best friend.
“Ahh, Dad, none of what I’m experiencing fits your romantic tales about chivalry and honor. I do everything wrong, say the stupidest things, irritate the people I must rely on for my sustenance and safety. I want to go home, and then again, I don’t. I’m lost, Dad. Can you hear me?” she implored the heavens as silent tears slipped down her cheeks.
* * *
When his mother and the bairns asked after Andra at the evening meal, Kendrick told them she felt unwell and should not be disturbed.
Lorne raised an eyebrow and cocked his head when he heard his brother lie to their mother. Kendrick knew Lorne had seen him physically remove Andra from the bailey that morning, as had several other men. Lorne had asked after her when Kendrick passed him on his way to the bailey that morning, commenting on how long their discussion had taken, but Kendrick decided to keep their issues to himself and just grumbled.
Lorne called Kendrick aside. “What happened between you and Andra? Did she spurn your advances, brother?”
“‘Tis none of your business, leave it for now, Lorne.”
Lorne was not about to drop the issue. “Dinnae you think it’s a bit harsh to deny her food and separate her from the bairns? Mother will not be pleased to hear you are keeping her locked up.”
“Are you questioning me, Lorne?” Kendrick seethed. He had been right; her behavior disrupted his authority. Everyone seemed to champion the lass despite her outrageous exploits. “You forget yourself, brother. She will not leave her room until I release her. And you ken I’d never deny her sustenance.”
Lorne shrugged his shoulders and with some asperity said, “As you command, Laird.” His brother did not conceal his annoyance.
When Kendrick approached Andra’s door carrying a tray of food, he could hear Andra speaking. “I told you to admit no one to her room.” He admonished the guard.
“I swear, the lady is alone. She has been humming and singing and mumbling for hours, but no one has entered the room.” Kendrick dismissed the man with a wave of his hand.
He listened outside her door for several minutes. Soon she started to sing a song he had not yet heard. Pressing his ear closer, he strained to catch the words. Her voice strummed a deep, inner chord that always made him want to fold her in his arms. As she sang words he’d not previously heard, the hairs rose across his neck and arms. The haunting melody told about lovers finding each other, merging into one. The words slipped into his head and heart like quicksilver. He knew he’d never expel them from his mind. The room grew quiet when she finished. He unlocked the bolt and entered.
“I have brought your evening meal, lass.” He set the tray on the table by the fire, now reduced to a few dying embers. He added a log and peat and stoked the blaze. She did not turn from her position by the window.
“Come, sit, and eat, Andra. You barely touched your noon meal. As you say, it is in your best interest to regain your strength.”
“It seems I’ve no appetite, Laird MacLean. And by your own admission, you have little interest in my vitality.”
He wanted to shake some sense into her. He wanted to brush the russet waves of hair away from her nape, lick, and kiss every inch of her neck and all regions above and below. “You are wrong there, Andra. I care verra much for your welfare. Is that so difficult for you to comprehend? Have I not brought you into the fold of my clan, fed you, clothed you?”
“Yes, you have done all of that, and I must seem exceedingly difficult and ungrateful. I cannot thank you enough for your kindnesses. I—what are you doing?”
She stopped abruptly when he strolled toward the wardrobe and rooted through her things. She studied him with an unabated panic that made him want to smother her with kisses and cosset her in his embrace, but he intended to end her constant prevarication.
Kendrick turned to Andra holding her carpetbag and her leather satchel in his hands. He scrutinized her response, wondering at the terror on her face, then emptied the contents of her bags onto the bed.
“It is time to answer my questions, Andra. I have no desire to distress you. I ken you’ve been through an ordeal. I’ve been patient, now you need to trust me. I give you my word; no harm will come to you no matter what you disclose.” He hoped he could honor that promise.
She stood there; arms wrapped tightly across her chest, a slight breeze blowing strands of hair around her face. Shoulders squared, back straight, teeth nibbling her lower lip, chin tilted up, she unflinchingly returned his stare with her typical false bravado.
He picked up the clear plastic cosmetics bag containing the bottles of pills, a small brush on a handle, which he’d seen Andra use to clean her teeth, and other sundries he could not identify. “Let’s start simply. What are these medicinals and where did you get them?”
“You can read. They are what they say, medicine to reduce fever, chills, aches and pains. The brush is to clean one’s teeth and the tube contains tooth cleaner.”
“Aye, I have seen the results of the tablets with both you and Lorne. But the containers are made of material with peculiar fasteners I have never seen before.” He slowly unzipped the bag watching her expression turn from bravado to fear, and dumped the contents on top of the table in front of her.
Picking up the toothpaste he tugged at the top, squeezed the tube, pulled out his dirk to cut into it. She grabbed it from his hand and slumped onto the chair. “What do you want from me, Kendrick?”
“That’s simple. The truth. All of it.” He replied.
Unscrewing the tube, she squeezed a small dab of white paste onto her finger. “Taste it.” She put her finger to his lips and he sucked her finger into his mouth. An erotic image popped into his head. Her shocked expression and widened green eyes suggested she might be thinking the same thing. She quickly pulled her hand back to her lap.
“So this is why you always taste so sweet.” He smiled, hoping to grant her comfort and ease. But he couldn’t suppress his soaring arousal.
“It’s akin to the mint leaves you’re always chewing.” she answered, grazing his crotch with her gaze, then averting her attention from the bulge under his sporran by studying the rug in front of the fire.
Laying the tube on the table, Andra dropped her head into her hands. “The truth! You want the truth. The truth is I want to go home. Yet when we’re together, I can’t think of being anywhere else.”
His visceral reaction to her comment shook him. He didn’t want her to leave. Her expressed conflict about leaving helped, but not enough.
“When I tell you all of the truth, you will not believe me and then you’ll toss me in your damn dungeon and throw away the key. Or worse, you’ll tie me to a stake and light the fire under my feet. That’s the truth.”
Kendrick knelt on one knee in front of her and took her hands in his. “Your hands are cold,” he said, rubbing warmth into them. His strong, calloused fingers gentled on her incredibly soft skin. He loved touching her skin, smelling her sweetness, watching her move through the keep, the gardens. Suddenly, he wanted her to find her home with him, to choose to stay with him. “I promise, Andra, I will believe you, and I will not punish you in any manner.”
Exhaling she rose and picked up the carpetbag. She removed a false bottom and retrieved several items. Andra studied the items in her hands as she came slowly back to the table and dropped into the chair.
“Kendrick, I give you my word that I am going to tell you the absolute truth and explain everything I can remember that led to the moment when I first encountered you.” Piercing him wi
th searching eyes she paused then, resolved, pushed on. “Will you promise me, please, that you will listen to my entire story and set aside your initial reaction and judgment until I am finished?” Her deep green eyes pleaded for his compliance.
He nodded, but a strange sense of dread swam though his veins.
“Set the food aside, please. I have things to show you.” He set the tray on the floor and took the chair opposite her. Finally, the moment of truth was upon them. He noticed her tight body strained like a bowstring, and Kendrick knew she was about to impart some terrible tale.
After his younger years spent in courts all over Europe, he’d developed excellent skills at detecting liars and uncovering falsehoods. Tension emanated off her like a tangible living thing. It coiled and slithered until he felt as tense as she looked. He kept his face neutral and watched her closely. She laid a few items on the table and covered them with trembling hands.
Lifting her face to his she said, “I am from the future. To be exact, I am from the year 2013. From a place called San Francisco, which is on the far western coast of the North American continent at the edge of the Pacific Ocean. The land you call the colonies.”
She did not turn away or even blink, steadily holding his gaze. What was she saying? Kendrick stood abruptly, knocking his chair backward and crossed his arms over his chest. “Andra, please, dinnae do this. Dinnae weave fantastic tales in an attempt to mollify me. You promised me the truth. What you say is not possible and you ken it. Yet her face displayed no hint of deceit.”
“It obviously is possible as I am here, though I do not know why or exactly how it happened.” Waving her hand toward his chair she urged, “Please, you promised to listen with an open mind. Please sit, and let me prove to you that what I am telling you is true.”
“You cannae prove what is impossible.” His voice thundered with his growing anger. The muscle in his jaw ached from grinding his teeth. What game did she play? Perhaps she was insane. He rubbed his hands through his hair until he could feel its complete disarray, and then rubbed his hands over his face. He grabbed the wine he had brought and paced the floor swigging large gulps. After a few minutes of pacing, he handed the bottle to her. She took a long swig, keeping her eyes on his face.
“Please sit down, you are frightening me. Let me show you a few things that may help you understand.”
She turned her hand over exposing a leather pouch, and handed it to him. “This is my wallet also known as a billfold. It’s a bit like your sporran but carries only items of identification and currency.” She nodded, “Open it. You will find photographs. Umm…excuse me; photographs are akin to miniature portraits. I’ll explain more about them in a minute. The first one shows me with my father. It was taken several years ago—in my time.” A tear slid down her cheek and she swiped it with the back of her hand.
He looked upon an extraordinary image of Andra standing by an older man. He’d never seen the like before. Kendrick closely examined the image encased in the same clear shiny material as the container from her bag. He looked at her and back at the portrait several times. “‘Tis a verra good likeness, astonishingly real.” He studied the older man closely and felt a shiver down his spine. He couldn’t place why, but the man looked familiar.
“The next one is my mother. My father took that image more than twenty years ago in my time. My mother died when I was seven years old. There is also dated currency. Pull out the paper bills and read them. Printed on the bills you’ll see their issue date. Some of them are newer so they do not all display the same dates, but they are all from the future. There are also English pounds, England’s currency from my time.”
He concentrated on the photos first. “Och, you resemble your mother. You have her face and smile and the same hair color.” None of this could be possible, could it?
“Yes, my father always said I am like her in many ways. Except for that picture, I can barely remember her.” A wistful expression crossed her brow.
“Do you have an image of your son?” He had no idea why he raised that question. His mind screamed that none of this could be true. The urge to run out of the room and lock her away fought with his need to hear everything she had to say, no matter how fantastic.
“Yes, I do.”
She removed another slip of paper, yellowed and worn around the edges and handed it to him. A picture she had obviously held in her hands thousands of times. A tiny babe rested across her chest, her hair was plastered to her face creased with deep weariness and pain. The image of her and this precious baby she had lost overwhelmed his senses.
She assumed that far away stare, her eyes damp with memories. With a hand pressed against her abdomen, she continued. “The scar on my stomach that you asked about…is a surgical scar. There was an accident in my ninth month of pregnancy resulting in an emergency C-section.”
“C-section?” His questioning expression urged her to continue.
“It’s an operation to remove the baby if they won’t come. He lived for a very short time. I only had him for a few hours.” Her voice hitched, suppressing a sob.
He set the wallet down and took her face in his hands, leaning his forehead against hers. “I am so sorry for your loss, a stór. I ken how it still pains you deeply.” A loud thrum hummed in his ears as he considered her nightmarish tale. Nevertheless, she clearly struggled with this disclosure and with her loss. He kissed her lips gently.
She sighed and pushed him back. Patiently, she continued to describe and explain the remaining items in her bag. He asked dozens of questions, and she answered them all without hesitation. Finally, she recounted the events that lead to the portal opening and her abrupt entry into his time and onto their path that day. She quieted and waited for his response.
Kendrick blew all the air from his lungs and took a deep, replenishing breath. Leaning forward in his chair, he ran his big hands through his hair, and allowed the silence to envelop them. Was any of this possible? On one hand, he struggled to believe it; on the other, she clearly believed everything she told him, and the evidence presented in her defense deserved his consideration.
“Kendrick?” A silent plea etched Andra’s face. She seemed to hold her breath, fingers touching the cross at her neck. “Please believe me. I promise, every word is the truth, and I will answer any other questions you ask to the best of my ability.” The silence in the room suffocated him.
He stood and paced around the room. Her eyes trailed his agitated movements, but she didn’t press him. She waited for a response, but he could not find words adequate to speak rationally. “I need some time to digest what you have told me, Andra.” He cupped her cheek, then turned and left without another word, bolting the door behind him.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Kendrick didn’t know what to do with the incredible images and information swirling in his mind. He had locked her in her room again because he feared she might decide to run away in the night. Exhaustion, incredulity, and fear, emotions he struggled to suppress swamped his thoughts.
He paced the parapet in an effort to gather his composure. With whom could he discuss this information without jeopardizing Andra’s safety? And without them thinking he too had lost his mind. What could he do to help her? Was it even remotely possible she told the truth? If so, could he help her return to her own time if that is what she truly wanted? More importantly, could he let her go? As much as she exasperated him, he had never felt such strong desire for any woman. No matter how hard he tried to deny those emotions, they shook his reserve every time he drew near her, every time he heard her voice.
He looked out over the hills where a pale shimmer of light filtered through the trees. What would he do if he suddenly found himself in another time and all of this, everyone and everything familiar was lost?
“Unimaginable,” he said, shaking his head. Yet, if she told the truth, this feisty woman, who had burrowed under his skin and anchored in his chest, had faced it all with amazing grace and tenacity.
&nb
sp; Rabbie walked onto the parapet. “Good morrow, cousin. You look a bit raw and agitated for so early in the day. What has the lass done to upset you now?”
“Aye. I spent most of the night talking with her.”
“Och, talking was it? More explosions, then? Is the lass still locked in her room?” Rabbie needled in a good-natured manner, trying to lighten Kendrick’s mood, but he could find nothing humorous in his recent discoveries.
Kendrick didn’t take the intended bate. “Rabbie, I wish to take you into my confidence on a matter of great importance that must remain between the two of us.”
Rabbie looked at him curiously, “Aye, you ken I am trustworthy and able to mind my tongue. What troubles you?”
“Come to my library, there are too many ears here.”
When Kendrick finished his tale, Rabbie walked to the table and poured them both a dram of whisky. Handing his cousin a cup, he tossed the burning liquid down his throat. “Well now, that tale definitely needs a bit of the uisge beatha to swallow it down. What are your thoughts on the matter?”
“The woman drives me to the edge of madness, that she does, but she no doubt believes her story. Then there are the strange things she showed me—currency from her time and pictures that defy the imagination. She defended her claims with calm certainty and precise explanations. She did not equivocate. Bloody hell! Am I as crazy as she is if I say I’m inclined to believe her?”
Rabbie had always helped calm and center Kendrick’s mind. They were opposites in many ways. Rabbie, slow to anger, took an inordinate amount of time to come to a decision, yet unfailingly reached an accurate conclusion. Furthermore, Rabbie was not a superstitious man. Kendrick trusted him, as much or more than he trusted his brother and never needed his steadying influence more.
Finding My Highlander Page 17
