A Bride for a Day

by Pam Binder

  “Fiona is a risk taker,” Lady Roselyn said, selecting the key that would open the door. “One day I fear she may go too far.”

  “She mentioned that our couples needed to experience real conflict and danger. Only then will they realize whether or not they are suited for one another.”

  “She forgets that our couple is running from reporters, not seeking true love.” When William answered her with just a shrug of his shoulders she heaved a sigh. She took in a deep breath and slipped the key into the lock. “Very well. Let Fiona know we are ready.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  C.C. decided she must be dreaming as she snuggled under the warmth of a comforter, imagining she was on a ship, rocking slowly back and forth with the currents. It was the good kind of dream where the handsome prince had declared her the fairest in the land.

  But she could feel the threads of the dream slipping through her grasp. The images became less clear, and she knew the moment she opened her eyes they would disappear. She squeezed her eyes tighter as she tried to hold onto her dream. She remembered exchanging vows with the prince, and a magical kiss that had made her toes curl. There was a fairy godmother who looked a lot like the café owner, Lady Roselyn. The fairy godmother and her sisters had announced that C.C. and her prince not only had to travel back in time but must return at the stroke of midnight or remain in the past forever. She’d then opened a door and escorted C.C. and Michael to a coach driven by six white horses.

  C.C. sighed. Her parents would have loved the idea of their daughter fleeing with a handsome prince to a mysterious location in Scotland. Her whole childhood had been filled with such stories. She and her brother and sisters were taken to fairytale-themed movies, and their bookshelves at home had been filled with stories of enchanted princesses and knights in shining armor. They’d even made summer pilgrimages to Oregon’s Shakespeare Festival in Ashland. While most children had been playing games, she and her siblings wielded wooden swords or tanned leather. Her parents had even named their daughters after fairytale heroines—Cinderella, Briar Rose, from Sleeping Beauty, and Belle, from Beauty and the Beast—and their son, Galahad, after one of the knights of the Round Table.

  The gentle rocking came to an abrupt halt, and C.C. slid off the bench seat and onto the floor of the coach with a thud. Her eyes snapped open. Michael rushed from the seat opposite hers, kneeling down in the cramped space, and helped her back to her seat. He was still wearing the dress kilt he’d worn at the wedding, and she was still in her wedding gown.

  “It wasn’t a dream,” she said more to herself than to Michael.

  “Would you rather it had been?” The intensity of his gaze quickened her pulse.

  “I’m not sure,” she said.

  The door to the coach opened wide, and cold air blew inside. “We’ve reached our destination,” William said. “Remember, and this is very important: you must return to Urquhart Castle by midnight tonight. The door you came through will be open, and that is the only way back to your own time. Fiona came through earlier and is here to both guide you and make sure you enjoy your adventure.”

  Michael jumped down from the coach and turned to help C.C. He seemed to be taking it all in stride, which was somewhat annoying. Or maybe he didn’t believe time travel was possible any more than she did and was just playing along. She slipped her hand into his, and he helped her to the ground. Yes, that was it. No need to panic. As though to quiet her concerns, a short distance away were flickering lights, which C.C. assumed was the town of Inverness. It all looked perfectly normal.

  Bridget had given her a fur-lined cap that had seemed too much when she was inside the mansion. Now she wished she hadn’t turned down the boots, hat, and fur muff that were also offered. She felt like a leaf that had been swept down the currents of a fast-moving stream. First, there had been the wedding, and then the announcement that the only way to escape the reporters was to travel back in time. In the back of her mind, she had rationalized that the sisters were speaking in some sort of code, that traveling back in time meant going to another wing of the mansion, or taking a boat ride to a castle ruin. She glanced over at the lights again. Shouldn’t there be more of them this time of night?

  William tipped his hat to them. “Donna forget. Ye’ll need to meet me back here at the appropriate time. We’ll no’ make it back in time if ye don’t.” He climbed back into the driver’s seat, snapped the reins over the horse’s rump, and sped back in the direction from which they’d come.

  “William left us. And was it my imagination, or was his Scottish brogue thicker?”

  Michael turned from watching the departing coach and scanned the path that looked as though it led to the town. “Maybe he’s in character. We’ll be fine. I think this is the way we should go.”

  “What do you mean you think? Don’t you know?”

  ****

  The mist clung to the town of Inverness as it lay before her like a mythical kingdom. Gone were the harsh lights and tacky storefronts advertising plastic toy images of the Loch Ness Monster and bobble-headed doll likenesses of William Wallace. The River Ness rolled like liquid ebony on one side and the bonfires illuminated the city on the other as it prepared for New Year’s Eve. Revelers packed the narrow streets. Vendors had set up their booths. She admitted that the town looked different from what she remembered, but perhaps they’d walked to a section of the city where, in honor of New Year’s, the town had recreated the past. She liked the logic. Actually, any little scrap of logic sounded pretty good to her right now.

  “Wait up,” she said, rushing to catch Michael. “So you don’t believe we traveled back in time?”

  “I didn’t say that. Actually it’s the opposite. I’m convinced we did. In the twenty-first century there was a castle over on that hill. The locals called it a Victorian Folly. It’s no longer there. Plus, I haven’t seen a car or taxi.”

  “But you said we’d be fine.”

  “And you said I was Prince Charming. People say a lot of things when they don’t think anyone is listening.”

  “I never said you were…” Her face heated into a blush. “Was I talking in my sleep?” When he nodded, she groaned. “I was delirious. That still doesn’t explain why you think we’ll be fine.”

  “No one has ambushed us yet.”

  She stubbed her toe and limped after him. “I don’t think I like you very much.”

  “Follow me.” Fiona seemed to materialize from the mist.

  Startled, C.C. bumped into Michael. “Where’d you come from?”

  “Liam and I arrived a short time before you, so we could make sure things were ready. Watch your step. A half a dozen or more sheep passed by here a short time ago.” She seemed satisfied her words of warning were heard when C.C. and Michael stepped over a pile of steaming poo.

  “Who’s Liam?” C.C. said to Michael.

  “Haven’t a clue.”

  Fiona headed down a gentle path, speaking over her shoulder. “Bridget told me before I left that our guests were still talking about your kiss and the way Michael couldn’t keep his eyes off his bride all through the ceremony. You both fooled everyone into believing that the two of you were madly in love. I wasn’t fooled. I saw how you looked at each other the first time I saw you together.”

  “Who’s Liam?” Michael said, interrupting.

  “Liam and I are betrothed. More of an arranged marriage than a love match. Ironic. Matchmaker who doesn’t marry for love.” She whacked at a bush along the path with the back of her hand.

  “Now that we’re away from the mansion and the reporters,” C.C. began, “you can tell us the truth. We didn’t really time travel back to the eighteenth century, did we?”

  Fiona glanced over her shoulder again. “You don’t have to believe me. You’ll see for yourself soon enough when we reach the town. William said you both had a nice rest on the coach. Most of our travelers feel disoriented or at least sleepy. Time travel takes a little getting used to. What you’re experiencing is
a lot like jet lag after a long flight. Very normal.” She paused to face them. “If you are still sleepy, we have hotel rooms booked in town. Separate rooms, of course.”

  Michael blew on his hands, turning to C.C. “Are you tired?”

  C.C. shook her head as she brought her cloak closer around her.

  He nodded and spoke for both of them. “We’re good.”

  “Perfect,” Fiona said, resuming her way down the path. “When we reach the bottom of the trail I’ll head you in the direction of the hotel, but if you’d rather explore the town, you’re more than welcome to do that instead. As I was saying, there’s nothing to worry about. We do this sort of thing all the time. Well, maybe not the part of inviting couples to hide out in the past. That’s new. But the whole plan of traveling back in time is sort of our thing. Usually we have a little more time to prepare, but you’ll be all right. There’s nothing to worry about.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Michael was glad Fiona had left C.C. and him alone to explore the city. Fiona was too observant. No wonder she was in the matchmaking business. But he would have to be more careful. Had Tatiana also noticed his reaction to C.C.? Was that the reason for her overreaction?

  He paused along the trail to the city to gain his bearings. He was an expert at locking down his emotions except when he was around C.C. She was different from the women he had dated. The first thing he’d noticed was that she listened, and the second was that her emotions were guarded. He knew she tried to make him smile or at least show some response. It was better if he kept things locked up. Yes, he had to be on his guard. Unlike his father, he’d survived. And he’d done it by keeping a check on his emotions. No extremes. That was his mantra, and he’d made it into an art form.

  He relished the idea that no one knew what he was thinking. The women he dated alternated between liking that he was disconnected, which meant they didn’t have to pretend they loved him for anything other than his money and fame, and those who wanted more. Tatiana appeared to fit both categories. He didn’t mind, or at least he’d made peace with the fact that Tatiana had first been attracted to his celebrity and wealth. That was part of who he was these days. But now he was tired of being alone.

  The fake marriage idea had been Tatiana’s, including choosing C.C. as the bride. He knew Tatiana hadn’t seen C.C. as a rival. The marriage would help Tatiana in her divorce negotiations. Tatiana’s husband was a quarterback for a rival team, and he’d made it clear he wasn’t going to negotiate their prenuptial agreement if his wife was dating and possibly going to marry another football player, especially if that player were Michael Campbell. Tatiana was relying on the fact that she could play the sympathy card as the jilted girlfriend and gain the upper hand in the negotiations.

  “Can we walk a little slower?” C.C. said, breaking into Michael’s thoughts. “These shoes are beautiful, but they aren’t made for speed walking.”

  Michael paused, gave a slight nod and turned, then wished he hadn’t. C.C. was a vision. She was bathed in the glow of the streetlamps. Her hair had come loose, her face was flushed, and her lips were parted. She looked so kissable. He clenched his hands at his sides. How would she react if he tried to kiss her?

  He’d known he liked being around her. Everything could be falling apart, but somehow she remained calm. Being near her reminded him of the time in the South when he and his team had been on a road trip after a hurricane had struck, and they had driven through the aftermath. All around them was chaos, but for a few brief miles it had been calm and serene, untouched by the storm for whatever reason.

  The kiss they had shared at the ceremony had surprised them both. He could tell by her reaction. But was it the magic of the moment, or something else? If he tried to kiss her again, would she kiss him back? What was he thinking? Soon after they returned, they’d file for an annulment, and when Tatiana’s divorce became final, he and Tatiana would be married. Tatiana had it all planned out, from the dress she would wear to the appetizers they would serve. He needed to face reality. C.C. was not for him.

  He remembered he was still walking too fast and slowed down, resisting the urge to apologize. It was better if she thought he was an insensitive jerk. That was the role he’d heard his dad said all men had been born to play. Although why he should follow his father’s advice he wasn’t quite sure.

  ****

  By C.C.’s calculation, it was around six o’clock in the evening, and this far north, it was already dark. The crescent moon, stars, and street lamps helped light the way along the wooden sidewalks. On the hill overlooking the town were rings of bonfires, the hill where in the nineteenth century, as Michael had said, the Victorian Folly would be built.

  Markets hugged one side of the street, reminding C.C. of the Christmas marts she’d only seen from her limo when she first arrived in Inverness. Men, women, and children crowded into the streets, enjoying the New Year’s Eve atmosphere. There were obvious differences in how the merchants dressed, and in the toys and ornaments—handmade versus machine-made—but the spirit of the holiday was the same.

  Like modern-day markets, the vendors were grouped together along the River Ness according to categories. Just as in modern times, to accommodate hungry partygoers there were food venders, hawking everything from roasted chestnuts to dried meats and a variety of breads and almond pastries. On the other side of the street were the vendors that were more appealing to C.C.

  There were tables with ornaments made from lace, handmade clothing, jewelry, jugglers, musicians, and a tall mime dressed as a court jester entertaining a group of laughing children and their parents.

  C.C. dropped a few coins into the mime’s donation cup. He came to life, taking off his jester’s hat. The mime was well over six feet tall, with broad shoulders and a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. He made a sweeping bow and produced a bouquet of dried lavender. C.C. nodded her thanks and inhaled the rich fragrance. She nodded to the jester again and headed toward a booth where a young woman was selling clothing.

  Michael stepped in front of her, blocking her path. “I know we decided to explore the town, but I’m thinking it would be wiser if we followed Fiona’s advice and went to the hotel.”

  A couple passed by them, stared, and then whispered to each other before moving on.

  C.C. glanced back at them and then quickly looked away, lowering her voice. “I think they overheard us talking. Didn’t you say the English and Scots didn’t like each other?”

  “They hated each other, but it’s seventeen forty-five, and the American Revolutionary War won’t start until seventeen seventy-five. To the Scots, America is still a British colony. We have nothing to worry about. Our accents are probably only a curiosity to them. The good news is that it’s December, and no one fights in the winter. There’s a truce of sorts between England and Scotland. The English have retreated, and the Scots are busy taking care of their families for the winter. The Jacobite leader, Bonnie Prince Charlie, is holed up somewhere in Inverness waiting for better weather and planning what will be his final battle. The battle of Culloden won’t be until April.”

  “What’s the bad news?”

  “I’m wearing the clan colors of a Campbell. They fought with the English and were considered traitors.”

  C.C. understood the implications, glancing around to see if she could tell whether or not anyone had noticed. If they had, would they look the other way because of the holiday, or would they consider Michael’s choice to wear the Campbell’s colors too bold a move to let pass? She cleared her throat. “You’re welcome to check into the hotel, but, as I mentioned, I’m going shopping.”

  “But you don’t shop.”

  “You don’t know anything about me.”

  He seemed taken aback. “I mean, you’re not like Tatiana. You’re not interested in what you wear.”

  She eyed him for a few seconds, pleased that he winced under her stare. At least he had the good sense to realize he’d insulted her wardrobe choices. “Tatiana like
s to shop. I’ve never seen her wear the same thing twice.”

  “Exactly. You’re more practical.”

  For some reason his saying something that she normally would consider a positive rubbed her the wrong way. “You mean boring, bland, and quite uninteresting.”

  She knew she was baiting him, fishing to see what he really thought of her. She’d always used the excuse that she didn’t have time to shop for clothes. The truth was that she admired those who knew their style, their look. She, on the other hand, hadn’t a clue about her style and often wondered if she even had one. She knew she didn’t want to spare the money for a stylish wardrobe, though. As a result, her closet was filled with only one color: black. She reasoned that black was a professional color, a serious color. But most importantly she didn’t have to worry about mixing and matching colors.

  The mime reached out and handed her a paper rose. She wondered if he’d overheard the exchange between her and Michael. It seemed as though he wanted to say something but then changed his mind. She smiled a thank you to the mime and dropped another coin in his cup. Michael was still in stone-statue mode, perhaps trying to come up with a response to her statement. It didn’t matter. She didn’t know why she’d tried to get a human response from him in the first place. Better people than she was had tried and failed.

  “I’m going shopping.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  She’d been surprised when he joined her on her shopping spree. She knew he hated to shop. They’d visited most of the vendors along the River Ness, and she still hadn’t found what she was looking for. But Michael Campbell wasn’t the kind of guy who left a woman alone in a strange city. She’d discovered that when she interviewed for the job as Tatiana’s assistant.

  It had been late into the evening when her interview ended that day. Michael had asked how she planned to get back to her hotel, and she told him she was going to walk the eight blocks. Tatiana suggested C.C. take a taxi. Michael had insisted on walking her home. They hadn’t spoken a word the entire time, and after he made sure she was safe in the lobby, he’d simply said good-bye and that he hoped she’d take the job as Tatiana’s assistant.