She felt the heat inside her grow as his hands moved down her back and then up once more, sliding over the shoulders of her dress, easing them down.
She went to move away but any resistance inside her melted when he began to kiss her neck, his rough lips bringing a gasp out of her.
The dress fell from her. How had that even happened? The kirtle was gone a moment later and then she was naked, the tapestry digging into her back as he ran his hands over her body.
There was a gust of wind and the candles blew out leaving only the slight glow of the fire in the hearth.
Beth looked at him in the half-light as he stood back from her. She watched him pull down his hose to reveal…
She couldn’t look down there. If she did that, she would melt into a puddle on the floor. The air was so filled with tension it seemed to hum.
Once he was naked he crossed back to her, lifting her straight into his arms and carrying her over to the bed.
He lay her down gently on her back. He remained standing in the glow of the fire, hunger in his eyes. “I love you,” he said quietly. “And tonight you will not sleep alone.”
“I love you too,” she replied as he climbed onto her.
She said nothing else. His lips were on hers and for a long time she said nothing at all.
With her eyes closed her other senses were heightened. She could feel everything, every scar and taut muscle on his body, even the thud of his heart through his chest.
She remembered that night for the rest of her life, the fire dying down to smoldering embers as the two of them lay together under the blankets, the highlander holding her close, as if he never wanted to let her go.
Outside the wind died down, the clouds clearing as the stars came out one by one. They twinkled high above the castle while down in the tower, she was held by the highlander, praying the night would last forever, wishing that morning would never come.
Her wishes were not answered. The sun rose on their sleeping forms all too soon and then it was time for them to part once more.
Chapter Nineteen
It was a journey Andrew did not want to make. So many times in his life he had traveled from the old hall to the new castle to observe the progress of the building work. When he was little it had been on foot but once he was old enough to ride he had more often than not gone on horseback beside his father’s noble steed.
While he was being shown the work, his father would look down at him and say, “One day, lad, all this will be yours.”
Andrew would nod and smile but he had no real understanding of what that meant. He knew now. It did not mean just the stones, it meant the people working there, the lands both inside and outside the castle grounds.
It had become his all too soon and after the death of his parents, he had traveled alone between the castle and the old hall, considering both his home.
He recalled the journeys alone, the road seeming very desolate once he became laird. He felt immense sorrow at the loss he had suffered but that pain was nothing to that he endured as he rode with Beth sitting in front of him on the day she was to return home.
It was only a short distance from the castle to Pluscarden, less than a day’s ride. He wished it was miles and miles, the journey was almost over and yet it had barely begun.
When they got there she would be leaving forever. He had tried many times to come to terms with that fact but it still cut him deep every time he looked at her, knowing how he would soon never see that smiling face again, those sparkling eyes, that mind of hers, so much sharper than any he’d ever known.
She was going home.
It was a pain that stabbed at him over and over as they rode like walking barefoot with a thorn in his heel. He could not ignore it no matter how hard he tried.
The chapel was finished and she was going home. The snow had begun to fall an hour earlier, coating the fields with white like an enormous blanket dropped from the skies. Winter was here and there would be no more building work until spring.
It was as if the heavens had waited until she was done to send winter along to take over the highlands. The chapel was complete. The bishop had returned and blessed the highlands, the castle, and her.
The falsework remained in place. It would not come down until she was long gone. “I will see it in my time,” she had said that very morning as they prepared for the ride. “Hopefully it will still be standing.”
Andrew had barely grunted in response. She looked hurt by his silence and on the ride she had said not a word. He dared not speak to her. He needed to get used to the idea of life without her. Engaging her in conversation would not help that.
It had been a perfect month in many ways though with a black cloud looming over him for every moment of it. That night they had spent together had not been repeated.
He had only to close his eyes and he was back in the bed with her, nothing but the two of them in the darkness. It was the most perfect night of his life and that was why he had not returned to her chamber for the rest of her stay. It would make letting her go impossible.
He knew why she had to leave. Knowing her reasons only made him love her all the more. She was willing to put her own desires to one side to tend for another, that was the depth of her compassion. He could only admire that.
They reached Pluscarden just after noon. The cellarium had been completed, the windows in the correct place. The stairs to the floors above were wooden, easy to chop away if there was an attack, not that Andrew was expecting one.
Since the alliance between the MacIntyres and the MacLeishes had been announced the other clans of the highlands had come together to negotiate terms. Soon, if things went well, the highlands would be united and then the Normans would have something to fear. They could bring their entire army north of the border but they would find only death waiting for them with a united Scotland.
He had spoken to Fenella only once since the collapse of the chapel roof. In her chair she had leaned back, the cat on her lap, nodding as he told her all that had happened.
“Perhaps she came back to unite the clans,” she said when he was done. “And now that task is done, she is supposed to leave.”
“Is there no potion that could make her stay? No spell you could cast to persuade her to be my bride?”
“Even if there were, you would not want to use them, would you?”
He sighed. “I suppose not. Do you have any advice at all?”
“Aye, I do as it happens. Do you remember what I told you last time you were here?”
“To look up, not that I listened in time.”
“This time I tell you only that you should look down.”
“Look down? When?”
“When the moment is right you’ll know.”
She would not be drawn on any more detail and so Andrew was left with only a hint of what he might do to make her stay. Given that weeks had passed and gluing his eyes to the ground had revealed nothing, he suspected whatever he was supposed to see, he had missed it.
Outside the hall, he clambered off his horse, helping Beth down to the ground. “This is it,” she said.
“Aye,” he replied, saying no more.
The building site was empty. Andrew had told all the workers they would be paid for the day but they were to stay away. He was still working out how he was going to pay to get all the work done.
There was not enough spare money to go around. Even the work on Pluscarden abbey had slowed to almost nothing. At this rate, his hall might be built by next winter but the abbey would take until the day of reckoning itself.
Beth walked over to the pit where the cellarium had been built. A rough wooden bridge had been built over it to the door at ground level. “Will it happen here, do you think?” she asked, turning to face him. “Or the bedroom itself?”
“I dinnae know,” he said, hoping it wouldn’t happen at all, wishing once again that she would stay with him. He would never see that beautiful face again, those eyes that shimmered like s
parkling dawn light on a crystal clear loch.
“I will never forget you,” she said, holding out a hand to him.
He didn’t take it. He couldn’t. He might not be able to let go again.
“Goodbye then,” she said.
“Farewell, lass. I thank you for all you’ve done.”
“Look after this place, won’t you?”
“I will that.”
She leaned forward and kissed his cheek, a tear rolling from her eye as she turned away and walked through the doorway.
Nothing happened.
She spun around, looking back at him. “I’m still here.”
“Aye,” he said, hope rising in him. “So you are.”
“It must be the bedroom door after all.”
She walked into the hall, along the low stones that marked the corridor. It was beaten earth and covered in snow but when finished it would be tiled or flagged depending on what he could afford.
He followed her, stopping by the one remaining part of the original building. The doorway into the bedroom where he was born.
“This is it,” she said, looking at him and starting to cry.
He couldn’t look at her any longer. She was going and he would never see her again. He looked down at her feet, frowning as he spotted something. It had been hidden under the snow until she walked by, her foot revealing something that sparkled in the light.
“What’s that you’re looking at?” she asked, looking down where his eyes were fixed. She gasped, leaning down and grabbing the object from the floor.
“What is it?” he asked. “What have you found?”
She held her hand out for him to see. It was a silver locket on a long thin chain. “This was my mother’s,” she said, opening it to reveal an image of a baby so real, Andrew was shocked.
“Who can paint so well?”
“It’s not a painting. It’s a photo of me.” Her fingers curled around the locket. “Do you know what this means? It means she’s here. She must have come through time after all.”
“If she is here,” Andrew said, wrapping his hand around hers. “We will find her.”
Chapter Twenty
The hall was a hive of activity. The tables that were usually pushed to the side of the room except during meals had been left in place for days, covered in letters coming and going, maps and charts filling the remaining space. There had not been a single moment when people were not entering or leaving the castle on the most urgent business.
Beth sat at the top table, realizing she was doing exactly what her mother used to do. She had the locket around her neck and was squeezing it so tightly in her hand her fingers had turned white.
Scouts had been sent in every possible direction to look for Janet. Each day reports came back but none of them positive. It was as if she’d vanished off the face of the earth.
Each morning Beth awoke with a new found hope but as the day wore on, she would become more anxious, feeling a dread rise up in her that the report when it came would tell her they’d been too late.
She hated the thought of her mother dying somewhere far from her, not knowing where her daughter was.
It had been a week since she’d been to the old hall. In the time that had passed she had waited anxiously for news. Andrew had taken charge of the search, gathering men to him from the moment they returned to the castle, telling them to drop everything and start looking.
Duff MacLeish had sent a dozen of his own men when he’d heard. Boats had been sent to the islands, monks had taken messages to monasteries in England. All she could do was wait and it was killing her.
Another messenger came in, running straight up to Andrew and Beth. “Yes?” Andrew said, looking up from his maps.
It was Gillis looking back at him. “You have news?”
“I think you should come down to the infirmary,” Gillis said, his face pale. “At once.”
Beth was already running, darting between people and out, reaching the bottom of the stairs in moments. She looked about her, seeing only the faces of the castle inhabitants she had come to know so well.
James had his back to her, helping someone into the infirmary. Whoever was with him was wearing a huge winter cloak, the snow settling on their shoulders and turning them white.
“Mom?” Beth shouted, sprinting across the courtyard. The figure with James turned around and then Beth began to cry. “Mom! It’s you.”
Her mother looked back at her, a smile breaking out across her face. “Beth.”
Beth threw her arms around her mother, holding her tight to her for a very long time as both of them began to cry.
Eventually James separated them. “She is exhausted,” he said. “We should get her into the infirmary.”
“I’m all right,” Janet replied, staggering slightly as she spoke. “I’m just not used to horse riding.”
“Come on,” James said, taking her arm and leading her into the infirmary. “Let’s get you sat down at least.”
Beth followed closely behind, watching nervously as her mother was helped into the nearest bed. She looked pale and drawn, her eyes still filled with tears.
“Where have you been?” Beth asked. “What happened?”
“Not now,” James said. “She must rest. Here, Janet. Drink this.”
He held a horn cup to her lips and she sipped the thick green liquid within before falling back on the bolster, her eyes closing.
“We should give her some time,” Andrew said, appearing next to her. “She is exhausted. Come, we’ll wait outside.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” she replied, kneeling next to the bed. “I’m staying right here.”
The next few hours were the tensest she’d ever known. Andrew stood silently beside her the entire time, saying nothing. James brought a damp cloth for Janet’s forehead, replacing it now and then.
Sitting beside the bed, Beth looked at the face of her mother. She felt a huge relief that she was still alive and yet mingled with that relief was fear that Janet would not again wake up, that she would never know what had happened to her during the time they’d been apart.
The bells had been rung for dinner before Janet opened her eyes again, turning to look at Beth as she did so, a smile once again spreading across her face. “I feared I had dreamed that I was here,” she said, running a hand across her daughter’s cheek. “Is it really you?”
“Yes, mom. It’s me. What happened to you?”
“I will tell you all about that later. First I want to know what happened to you. It looks as if you’ve been here all your life. I hardly recognized you.”
Beth told her everything. From stepping through the doorway to seeing the hall burn down. She glossed over being accused of starting the fire, moving onto finding her way to the castle.
She talked about the building work, fixing the battlement walls, rebuilding the chapel, not mentioning the collapse for fear of upsetting her. “And who is this?” Janet asked, sitting up slowly in the bed, examining Andrew from behind a furrowed brow.
“This is Andrew, laird of the MacIntyres.”
Andrew nodded. “A pleasure to meet you at last. You’ve given my men some trouble tracking you down.”
“Here,” Beth said, holding out the locket. “Take it back.”
“You found it?” Janet said, sitting bolt upright. “I thought I’d lost that forever.” She shook her head. “You should keep it. It was going to be yours anyway once…” Her voice faded away then she smiled again. “Not that it matters. I can’t tell you how much better I’ve felt since coming back here. I swear I might live to be a hundred.”
She swung her legs out of the bed, getting slowly to her feet. She stood in front of Andrew, looking him up and down. “Well, well. Andrew MacIntyre. I always dreamed about meeting you and now it finally happens. I hope you’ve been good to my daughter.”
“Mom!” Beth said. “Don’t talk to him like that.”
“I see the look in his eyes. I’ve been around long enou
gh to know what that look means.”
“And what does it mean?” Andrew asked, looking amused by her anger.
“It means you better propose to her before this goes any further. I wondered which Dagless you were going to marry and now I know. I never would have guessed it would be my daughter, not in a million years.”
“As a matter of fact I have proposed,” Andrew said, smiling. “Though she said no.”
“And what did you go and do a stupid thing like that for?” Janet asked, turning her attention to Beth.
“I couldn’t marry him. I needed to find you.”
“That’s the stupidest thing I ever heard. You have the chance for happiness with a man who clearly worships you and you turn him down to babysit your own mother. You turn around right now and agree to marry him. Go on.”
“Mom!”
James could hide his laughter no longer, he walked rapidly away, his hand covering his mouth.
Beth blushed wildly. “Sorry about her.”
“She’s right,” Andrew replied. “You should marry me.”
“Is that what you call a proposal?” Janet asked. “You’re not too old to be spanked yourself Mr MacIntyre so you just ask her properly before I drop dead of old age.”
The sound of James’s continuing laughter echoed from the far end of the infirmary.
Andrew turned to Beth, sinking to one knee, his hand held up to hers. “Will you marry me?”
“Of course I will,” she replied, jumping into his arms and almost knocking him over.
“There,” Janet said, rubbing her hands together. “That’s settled. Now where can I get something to eat? I’m absolutely starving.”
Beth turned to look at her. “You still need to tell us what happened to you.”
“Plenty of time for that later. First we need to start planning a wedding. Tell me you have a decent kitchen for me to make the cake.”
She walked out of the infirmary into the courtyard, beckoning for them to follow.
“Are you glad you found her?” James asked over Beth’s shoulder, still chuckling to himself. “She seems quite the woman.”
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