Gwendolyn paused, waiting for my response. I wasn’t ill, only worried, and I wouldna have them send for a doctor for a non-existent sickness.
“Twill be…I’ll be down shortly.” A short response was best. Perhaps, my accent wouldn’t be as noticeable with only a few short words. Not that it mattered. I was going to have to tell them all I knew, not that they would believe me.
At this point, I had nothing left to lose.
* * *
I walked down the stairs and into the small kitchen to be met by kind smiles from both Gwendolyn and Jerry. The old man gave me a thorough look over before speaking bluntly, true to form.
“Ye must be feeling much better, lass. Ye doona look sick at all. Now sit down here and tell us where yer mother is. We know something has happened, and it is time that ye tell us what that is. Gwendolyn is too polite to ask ye, but I’ve no problem with tellin ye that yer behavior has been quite strange.”
The old man stood to usher me to a chair across from both of them. Once I was seated, he resumed his place next to his wife. I sat silently for a moment, quite unsure of where to begin. I knew me accent would garner questions from them right away. “Aye, I’m no longer feeling ill. But I do need to tell ye both something.”
Gwendolyn pinched her eyebrows together oddly in my direction. “Well, my goodness, Bri. I know it’s tempting once you’ve been here awhile to try and speak like everyone around you, but I’ve never been very successful at it myself. You sound as if you’ve lived here forever.”
Jerry laughed in response as he patted Gwendolyn on the shoulder. “Aye, my lassie’s voice holds nothing of Scotland, although she’s lived here for forty years now. She still speaks as if she arrived in the country only yesterday.”
Gwendolyn leaned sweetly into Jerry before glancing back in my direction and continuing, “The accent really is great, but why are you doing it?”
I glanced down at my plate of untouched food, not quite ready for either of them to think I’d lost me mind.
Jerry reached across the table to gently squeeze me hand and, as I looked up at him, I could see the concern in his face. “Where’s yer mother, lass?”
“She’s no me mother. And I’m no Bri. I doona think ye will believe what I must tell ye, but will ye listen to all of it before ye decide that I’m mad?” I lifted me head to look them in the eye as I waited for their answer.
Jerry and Gwendolyn exchanged an unreadable sideways glance before Jerry spoke first. “Aye, lass. O’course we shall listen to ye. Let us move next to the fire though. The chairs in there are much more comfortable.”
Gwendolyn simply nodded before they both stood and left me to follow them into the next room.
Once seated, I fumbled uneasily with me words, unsure of how to begin. One question had sat at the forefront of me mind since the first night I’d left Adelle at the castle ruins. I’d been too afraid to ask, for if the answer was not what I hoped, it meant everyone I’d known and loved had died only days ago, unable to change history. I knew that I must learn the truth before I explained anything further to Jerry and Gwendolyn.
“Might I ask ye a question before I tell ye?” I didn’t wait for their response. “The castle ruins, I suppose they’re still ruins, aye?”
Hope fluttered in my chest at the quizzical looks by both Jerry and Gwendolyn.
Jerry pointed in the direction of the castle. “Do ye mean Conall Castle, lass? If so, I wouldna go calling the place a ruin. It’s still beautifully in tact. A fine structure and a popular visit for tourists.”
I was unsure of what a ‘tourist’ was, but if what he said was true, it meant that they’d been successful at stopping the attack. Adelle, Bri, Eoin, Mary, Arran, had most likely all gone on to live for many more years. That knowledge was enough to rid meself of any other fears I had about moving on in this time alone.
“Do ye really mean it? The castle is no just a pile of rocks? It wasna destroyed long ago?” I needed just one more reassurance in order to let meself fully believe him.
Gwendolyn nodded and spoke this time. “Yes, dear. The Conalls have been one of the most powerful and beloved clans in Scotland for centuries. Descendants still own the castle, but they’ve partnered with the historical society to open it up for visitors. Are you sure you’re still not ill?”
I nodded, relieved beyond explanation. It was time to explain to them what had happened. Then regardless of their reaction, it was time for me to move on from this place and start a new life here on me own.
“Aye, I feel fine. But I need to tell ye what’s happened, and ’tis a long story. I doubt that ye will believe me.”
Jerry smiled and sat back in his chair, settling in. “Why doona ye just get on with it, lass? Then we will decide what we believe.”
“Aye. I’m no sure of where to begin. The first thing I should tell ye is that I’m no Bri. My name is Blaire MacChristy. My father was Laird of MacChristy Castle during the seventeenth century. I was betrothed to Alasdair Conall’s eldest son, Eoin, but on the day of our wedding in the year sixteen hundred and forty-five, I found meself swept up by a spell cast by Alasdair’s late sister, Morna Conall, a witch who died when I was very young. As ye can see, Bri and I look very much the same with our hair dark and our eyes blue, and Morna knew that we would. She cast the spell so that if Bri and I ever laid eyes on the same spelled plaque in a spell room beneath the castle, we would switch places in time. Nearly two months ago, her spell worked. Bri was sent back and I was brought forward.” I paused to look up at them and was surprised to see that they both seemed rather unsurprised by my words.
Instead, Jerry asked a question as if we were having the most normal of conversations. “Lass, why did Morna want ye to switch places? And where is Adelle?”
It took me a moment to speak. Was it possible that he believed what I was saying? “Ye see, that’s why I asked ye if the castle was ruins. When I arrived here, it was. When Adelle and Bri came here, it was in ruins. Only a few short months after my wedding, the Conalls were murdered and the castle destroyed. No one ever found out who murdered them and that was why Bri and Adelle came to Scotland, to search for something that might reveal who had murdered the Conalls. Tis for the same reason that Morna cast the spell. She hoped that if Bri and I switched places, Bri’s knowledge of what was to come would enable her to stop it. And she did. If no, then the castle would still be in ruins now.”
“And Adelle?” Jerry continued to stare at me as if he wasn’t shocked by me story.
“Once Adelle realized that we’d been switched, we spent weeks searching for a spell that could switch us back. We found one, but Bri dinna want to return. She married Eoin, and they fell in love. I dinna want to go back either, there’s no much left for me there.” I paused as an uncomfortable knot lodged itself in me chest. I swallowed hard, pushing it down and continued. “Adelle wanted to be with Bri. So she did the spell instead, and it worked. She’s with Bri now. ’Twas three days ago when I arrived here alone telling ye I was sick. I dinna know what to do.” I leaned back in me own chair and crossed me hands in my lap.
Gwendolyn had remained silent when Jerry had spoken up, and I could tell nothing by her face.
The three of us sat in silence for what seemed like much longer than I’m sure it was. Eventually, Gwendolyn stood and walked to the other side of the room behind me and reached up to the top of the bookshelf lining the wall and pulled a small box from the shelf.
She returned to her seat next to Jerry and smiled at him quickly before extending the box in me direction. “I’d like to tell you a story meself, if you don’t mind, dear.”
Confused, I only nodded and took the box to sit it in me own lap.
Gwendolyn pointed at the box. “Open it, and pull out the top three photographs.”
I obeyed, lifting the small metal latch that kept the lid closed and looking down inside the box. I remembered the first time I’d seen a photograph, the first day I’d arrived in this time. Adelle had shown me one
of Bri to emphasize just how much we resembled one another. Despite all the strange and wonderful things I’d seen, it was still miraculous to me that moments could be captured forever on a small piece of parchment.
Only three photographs lay inside, all facing down, and I lifted them out and closed the lid before turning them over. As I did, the air around me chilled suddenly as I gazed at the images.
The first was of Conall Castle, but not as I remembered it. It was the castle in ruins as it had been when I arrived in this time.
The second was of the spelled plaque, still painted with me portrait, staring back at me. A reminder of the day me life had changed forever.
The first two images were shocking, but it was the third that caused me hands to shake and me breath to come out unsteadily as I glanced up at Gwendolyn. She only smiled softly, waiting for me to speak.
The third photograph was less a picture and more of a painted portrait, depicting people I’d known in me old life. Alasdair, young and vibrant, holding a baby Arran in his arms, while Eoin, no more than five, stood next to his father, only knee high. Alasdair’s other arm was draped around a woman’s shoulder, squeezing her tightly with affection. The woman was not Alasdair’s late wife, she’d died giving birth to Arran, and I knew there was only one other person the woman could be. The witch, Morna.
While her face in the portrait was younger, it matched Gwendolyn’s exactly.
* * *
Gwendolyn eventually gave up on waiting for me to respond. Laughing heartily, she reached out and squeezed me hand. “Come, dear. Surely after all you’ve been through, nothing can be too much of a surprise to you.”
I looked over at Jerry who only nodded in confirmation. “Do ye mean? How could ye be her? She died when I was a very small child.”
“There are a far manner of things, dear, that seem impossible. Surely this is no more impossible than you sitting here in this century when you were born in another, aye?”
Gwendolyn slowly lost the American accent she’d been using the entire time I’d known her. She was right. After all I’d been through, I had no trouble believing her, but I dinna understand why.
“If ye could end up here after yer own death, then why would ye bother with the spell for me and Bri? Could ye no have stopped the massacre yerself?”
Gwendolyn, or Morna, I wasn’t sure which name was now appropriate, smiled as if expecting my question.
“Because, lass, there are more important things than life and death. Me spell put into motion other things just as important as saving the lives of me family members. Souls needed to meet. Souls that belonged together, despite being born centuries apart. Without me spell, that could never have been.”
“Do ye mean Eoin and Bri?” Looking at her more closely, I noticed a resemblance to Alasdair, Eoin, and Arran that I’d never seen before. The shape of their eyes, the slant of their smiles, all strong Conall traits that made me trust her story even more.
“Aye. Eoin and Bri. Not to mention, there was me own lad, who dinna exist in me own time. Instead of saving me family meself, I chose to sit back and watch over those who would save them, while at the same time finding the man I was meant to love.”
“Ye mean, Jerry isna like ye?”
Jerry cackled and coughed before he spoke. “Oh no, lassie! I was born right here, in this time and if I had the gift of magic like her, I’d have stopped me knees from cracking long ago.”
Gwendolyn frowned in Jerry’s direction. “I’ve told ye before, I could stop it for ye meself, but ye willna let me.” She turned toward me once more. “He accepts the truth, but it all still makes him a wee bit uncomfortable. He willna let me use magic on him.”
“So ye mean ye knew I wasna Bri?”
“Aye, lass. But I’ll tell ye, I dinna expect ye to stay here and Adelle to go back. Me visions dinna show me that. Perhaps they dinna want me to try and stop it from happening. Are ye certain that ye wish to stay here?”
Panic shot through me at the thought of going back. I answered too quickly, startling both Gwendolyn and Jerry. “Aye! I canna go back.”
Gwendolyn’s face softened, her eyes showing that she understood. “Alright, lass. Well, what is it that ye want to do now? We shall help ye get settled wherever ye’d like to go. Do ye wish to stay in Scotland?”
I’d given it no thought. I’d been too concerned with what I was going to tell them and whether or not Adelle and Bri had been able to stop the massacre to think much further into me future than a few moments. “I’m no sure. I doona know what to do.”
Jerry leaned over and squeezed my hand, and there was no doubt in me mind that Gwendolyn had chosen well. Her husband was the best of men, kind to his core.
Gwendolyn waved a hand in the air as if dismissing my concern. “Doona worry. Why doona we help ye get settled in Edinburgh? We could get ye a job and a place to stay, and ye can see how ye like it for a while. If ye decide later that ye’d like to go elsewhere, then we’ll be more than happy to help ye.”
“Aye, that will be fine. Thank ye. I suppose ye shall be glad to have another empty room for guests, aye?”
Gwendolyn stood and motioned for me to do the same as we made our way to the stairs. Clearly, we were all about to retire for the evening.
“Lass, we doona allow other guests. Ye are the only one who knows this house is here. Only yerself and those I wish to see it can see this house along the side of the road. We’d be overrun with tourists, otherwise.”
Chapter 2
Conall Castle
Scotland
1646
Arran Conall made his way down to the stables for his daily ride. The remaining men of what was formerly the Kinnaird Clan remained camped out on the castle grounds, nearly two months after the demise of the clan’s wretched laird.
Laird Kinnaird had given birth to no sons and, with his daughter still unmarried, the clan remained at Conall Castle under his brother’s blessing while they tried to sort out a way to name their next leader.
Arran found himself stifled, standing in an open field. Now, with guests tucked into every free corner of the castle and its grounds, his daily work and rides in the stables were all that kept him from insanity.
He needed to keep busy anyway. The loss of his beloved Blaire to a century beyond his comprehension occupied his thoughts every moment. He was happy that his brother had found love in his new wife, Bri, but with her face so similar to Blaire’s, it only reminded him of his own heartache every time he laid eyes on his new sister-in-law.
If he’d known his rejection of Blaire would have sent her so far from him, he would have defied his brother and never let her go. He would live with the regret of hurting her for the rest of his life.
Arran shook his head, doing his best to shake all thoughts of his beloved from his conscious mind. He saw enough of her in his dreams. It was torture to see her in the recesses of his mind when he was awake as well.
Rounding the corner of the entrance to the stables, he found Edana Kinnaird, the daughter of the late, villainous laird, feeding an apple to his brother’s old horse, Griffin. The stables were usually occupied by only the castle’s fleet of horses along with the old stable master, Kip. But Arran was surprised to find that his spirits lifted at the sight of his new friend.
While many women and children of Kinnaird’s clan had stayed inside the castle, Edana was the only one who had her own room upstairs along with members of the family. For the past months, Edana had stayed in his late mother’s room just down the hall from his own. He saw her often, and although she always kept their conversations short, he could tell by the way she watched him that she fancied him.
He could never return her feelings, his own heart swept away to a different time with another lass. If he’d met Edana only a year ago, he’d have already tupped her repeatedly and tossed her aside without so much as another thought. But Blaire had changed him irreparably, and it caused him to look at Edana’s feelings toward him in a kinder light. He liked
the lass, and he respected her. He wanted to do all he could to show her friendship.
She’d been through much as a child, living with her brute of a father, who Arran was certain had abused the young girl physically, and mayhap even in more unthinkable ways as well. From what he could see, she was a kindhearted lass, and with all her family gone, he knew she must be terrified over the uncertainty of her own future.
Smiling wide, he made his way toward her, reaching up to rub Griffin behind his ears.
“Ah, Griffin. Ye sure are a lucky lad today, are ye no? I’m sure ye are glad to be receiving such a treat from a lady rather than me or Kip, aye?” Arran winked at Edana and turned to address her. “Ye shall spoil him, lass. I fear he shall never take an apple from me again. He’ll always want to eat it out of yer delicate hands.”
Edana blushed, and Arran didn’t miss how she averted her eyes from him before speaking.
“Nay, I doubt it. He doesna seem too particular about who’s giving him the treat. He only wants to eat the apple.”
“I doona know about that. I canna think of a time I’ve seen him look so pleased. What are ye doing down here? I doona believe I’ve seen ye here before.” Arran continued to stroke Griffin, hoping that if he looked distracted with the horse, it would ease Edana’s nerves.
“I’m grateful that ye and yer brother have allowed me to stay here. Lady Bri is exceedingly kind, but I tire of being indoors, and I canna stand to hear the men speak any further about how they shall replace me father.”
Edana’s brow creased in a pained expression, and Arran reached forward to place a hand on her shoulder to comfort her. She jerked away from him as if touched by fire, and Arran quickly went back to stroking Griffin. “I doona blame ye for needing to get away, but doona be worried about yer clan, lass. No matter who takes over as laird, ye shall no lose yer place in the castle. I promise that I’ll see that ye are provided for just as ye have always been.”
Arran glanced quickly in Edana’s direction as she fumbled with her hands nervously, obviously unsure of how to respond. He dinna press her and turned to see to the other horses. As he walked away, she finally spoke again.
Morna's Legacy: Box Set #1 Page 22
