She stopped pacing and clutched at the neckline of her dress as if it choked her. “The others used another means, a darker power. When I shared my simple way, it wouldna work for them either, but they couldna stop.” She looked sad. “It was like a sickness.”
Lachlan helped her back into her chair and patted her hand. Piper shuddered. She thought of all the times she had stared into her wall safe at Daria’s book.
She’d only performed the ritual once, and it had almost consumed her with the need to do it again. And now, knowing she had the power to visit any time she wanted? It would be impossible, unthinkable to never do it again. Was she doomed from the start, born of bad blood? Or would she be okay if she stopped and never looked back?
“But Daria,” Agnes continued in a mournful voice, snapping Piper out of her revery. “Daria could do it our way.” She paused at Piper’s gasp, and nodded. “I saw her myself, when she traveled for the first time, using the herbs and chant. Why would she choose the dark way?”
Agnes sat in her chair, looking to either of them for answers. Lachlan continued to pat her, and Piper pretended ignorance. If she tried to explain the almost addictive allure of Daria’s spellbook, she would certainly lose Lachlan. He could never continue to love her if he knew she had such yearnings. She would continue to fight them, that was all.
“We may never know,” Lachlan said. He furrowed his brow at Piper. “If no one was ever accidentally taken by Agnes’ spell, how did yer man Pietro go missing?”
She shook her head, which was starting to pound. Pietro disappeared at least two full days before she did the spell. She wished Evie was here to hash all this out. Evie would have loved to pick Agnes’ brain and pore over her books.
Looking out the window, she saw the sun was getting low in the sky. It would be dark soon, and Piper didn’t have any idea how long it would take to get to the castle on foot. Now that they were here in the eighteenth century, she was raring to find her ancestors.
She discreetly tugged on Lachlan’s sleeve, nodded to the window and tilted her head to the door. She was antsy from all the unanswered questions, wanted to take action instead of going around in circles with something nobody understood.
As if sensing her distress, Agnes stood up and shook herself off, looking like a fierce, though grandmotherly, warrior.
“Must ye be on yer way?” she asked.
“We’ll no’ make it to the castle before nightfall without a horse, nor to the village for that matter.” Lachlan shrugged. “Shall we stay here for the night, or shall we take a moonlight stroll?”
“Moonlight stroll,” Piper said, looking down at her clothes.
Lachlan looked absolutely perfect for his own time in his kilt. She was wearing jeans, hiking boots and one of Fenella’s fantastic cashmere sweater sets. Nothing about her would fit in here.
Agnes sized her up and wordlessly went into the next room, returning a short time later with an armload of fabrics in varying shades of brown.
“I am none so small as ye, but perhaps we can make it work?” Agnes hopefully handed over the pile of clothes and Piper snorted back laughter at the unwitting eighteenth century Project Runway impression.
Lachlan volunteered to tend to the animals while Piper got changed.
“He’s a good lad,” Agnes said with a warm look at Lachlan. She turned her gaze to Piper. “Ye mustn’t fret about using the other spell, lass. Ye must concentrate on the goodness in yer heart, as I know ye must have or Lachlan wouldn’t be so smitten with ye.”
Piper sighed and blinked back tears. She hoped it was true.
She shed her modern clothes and Agnes handed her the first piece of clothing, a thin ivory shift. It hung on her like a tent and the armholes sagged almost to her waist. Pulling it together around her middle caused it to bunch up uncomfortably and make her look twice her size. When the dress went on over it, she could barely put her arms down there was so much excess fabric gathered together under it.
She sighed and tried not to let her vanity get the best of her, but she’d seen so many lovely paintings of the fashions of this era, she may have pictured herself in something other than an ill fitting wad of itchy brown wool.
This is not important, she firmly reminded herself as she tried smoothing the gathers around her waist. Even Agnes looked a little defeated.
“Perhaps ye don’t need the shift?” she suggested, helping her step out of it. “I shall just lace ye up very tight in the dress and then we shall wrap ye up in an apron.”
When Agnes had done the best that she could, Piper dragged herself outside to show Lachlan the finished product. She turned around and dropped a clumsy curtsy, almost falling over when she tried to see her reflection in the goat trough.
“I look like an out of work birthday clown,” she said, waving her billowing sleeves.
She looked down and saw that when she’d performed her curtsy, Lachlan had probably gotten a clear view straight down the dress due to the gaping bodice.
“I dinna know what that is,” Lachlan said, helping her gather up the skirts so she could walk, and pulling on it in a desperate attempt to keep it from flapping open.
“Can I just wear my own clothes until we get to the village?” she asked.
“There are more travelers than usual, coming for my damned feast. Better no’ to risk it.”
“How long do you think it’ll take?” she asked, keeping her voice chipper.
She would be damned if she was bested by an ugly dress, even if it was three times her size. He started to head toward the gate but she lifted her skirts to show him she still needed to put some shoes on. Agnes was going through everything she owned trying to find some that would fit her.
“An hour, perhaps,” he said, leaning against the fence to wait for her. “And my love, if we meet anyone on the road, ye mustn’t curtsy.”
***
Their movement was slow and arduous. Piper was glad for the ton of wool when the last of the sun slid below the horizon and the chill, damp night crept in.
Before they set out, Agnes ran out to hug them and extract promises that they would see her again before they left, whether it be to the future or just Lachlan’s home.
None of Agnes’ shoes had fit her and she’d happily put her hiking boots back on. Something she learned about herself in a hurry was that even though she tried to live a grateful life, and now that she was with Lachlan she truly had everything she could ever want, she still took every damn thing for granted in her own time.
She’d never given a second thought to her amazingly supportive and comfortable footwear until she saw what she might have to wear here in the eighteenth century. As she tied her boots while sitting in the hard dirt of the yard, she’d felt a surge of emotion. She’d been glad for the boots. Overcome with thoughts of all the things she left behind, she’d set her sights on Lachlan, pacing by the fence.
He was eager to get started once they decided to head for the village, and told her they would spend the night there, then ride to the castle at first light. He was taking charge so she wouldn’t worry. She was surprised to find that she wasn’t worried when she’d finished tying her shoes.
Everything she might have regretted like hot showers and speedy transportation faded into the background and she wrapped her arms around him, surprising him.
“Are ye all right, my love?” he asked, pulling her up for a kiss.
She savored the feel of his mouth on hers and nodded.
Even now, after an hour-long walk over bad road in the dark of a cold night, she was buoyed by his presence and warmed by his touch. The emptiness and sorrow she’d felt during the six months she’d been without him had been worse than she’d even let herself believe. There was no modern luxury in the world she’d rather have than to be with Lachlan.
She was just about to open her mouth and say all the gushy things she was feeling, when Lachlan pointed ahead of them. She strained her eyes and thought it was possible there was something there, but s
he was going to have to take his word for it.
They slogged up an incline and finally she made out the darkened spire of the ancient church that she knew was at the top of the high street in Castle on Hill. It was old even in this time, and its bulk was a comforting presence in the nearly empty village square. That was the only thing that she recognized as they made their way down the quiet, dark street.
He pointed to the left and she saw a dim light hanging from a two story building. The wooden sign on the inn was swaying in the night breeze and Piper couldn’t read it in the darkness.
Lachlan hesitated at the front door and lowered his hand at the last second, frowning down at her, and leading her back out to the street and around behind the inn. There was a small stable and she could hear the horses, and saw there was someone working by the light of a lantern.
Lachlan motioned for her to stay put as he stepped forward to rap on the back door of the inn. A stout woman in a filthy apron flung open the door, brandishing a ladle, then recognized Lachlan. They exchanged a few words while the woman pointed behind her and Lachlan took a step into the doorway and listened to her with a look of growing consternation on his face. Piper wondered if he had money on him.
An elderly man scurried out of the barn to see who was there, gave her a surprised look, relaxed when he saw Lachlan in the doorway and turned back, muttering to himself.
She was slightly offended but wasn’t sure why. Women probably can’t be alone here, she thought. She smoothed her dress and pulled up the sagging bodice, horrified that he might think she was looking for business behind the hotel.
She glared at the old man’s retreating back and wished she looked less like a bedraggled street urchin so they could go through the front door like respectable customers.
Lachlan had abandoned her out here to be judged. Just left her in the yard all alone. Angry tears pricked at her eyes and she was so busy feeling sorry for herself, she didn’t notice Lachlan return with a young girl until they were right in front of her. The girl dropped a professional curtsy and smiled warmly.
“Will ye come with me, miss?” she asked, glancing at Lachlan for approval.
“The lass will take ye to a room and bring ye a bath and some clothes. I will, ah, make further arrangements and join ye.” He looked distressed.
Piper peered around him into the kitchen of the inn but couldn’t see anything. She didn’t want to be separated but didn’t want to make a scene in front of the servant girl.
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
He raised his eyes heavenward and let out a beleaguered sigh. “My addlepated brother has come for the feast. The lad does no’ listen to a word I say unless there is drink to be had, then he comes quick enough.”
“He’s here, now?”
Her heart started pounding. She had never in a million years thought she would get to meet Lachlan’s family so soon. What if he thought she was a brash tart? She was so modern, even people in her own time often thought she was too independent. Her hand flew to her hair.
She looked at Lachlan, who was frowning. “C-can I meet him?”
She raised her chin proudly and waited to see if Lachlan waffled or made excuses. Did he want to keep her hidden until they were back in the twenty-first century?
“Aye, ye can meet him in the morning. We shall ride together to the castle,” he said with resignation.
“I can’t meet him now?”
Lachlan looked at her in disbelief. “Ye want to meet him now?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
She set her jaw. “Why not?” she demanded.
Lachlan threw up his hands. “Verra well,” he said, stepping aside and motioning her to go ahead of him.
The servant girl cleared her throat. “Will ye want to change first, miss?”
With a gasp, Piper looked down at what she was wearing. The horror. What had she been about to do? It was proof that Lachlan wasn’t ashamed of her that he was willing to introduce her to his brother while she was wearing an oversized sack.
“Oh! Yes, thank you.”
Lachlan made an impatient noise. “I shall fetch ye in a bit,” he said.
She followed the girl, squeezing his arm as she passed him. He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
Apprehension gnawed at her stomach as she plodded up a back stairway. The girl stoked the low burning fire and straightened the bed, which was suspiciously rumpled. Piper wondered if the inn was full and they were putting someone out. Before she could ask, the girl bobbed another curtsy and fled.
Not knowing what to do, Piper looked around the room, opening the shutters for the small amount of light the moon afforded.
Other than the bed, there was a bowl and pitcher for washing, a greasy smelling candle sitting atop a chest of drawers, and a three-legged stool.
She remembered the promise of water and new clothes and began struggling to untie herself. The feat proved to be impossible, so she sat on the edge of the bed, deciding to wait five minutes before looking for Lachlan.
Her stomach growled and she realized she hadn’t eaten since the few bites of biscuit at Agnes’ house. Despite her nerves, she was ravenous.
A tap at the door caused her to jump up and try not to look suspicious. It was the servant girl, with an armload of clothes, followed by two boys who were struggling under the weight of a round tub of water. They sloshed the tub into the middle of the room, bowed without making eye contact, and rushed away.
“Will ye have a bath, miss?” the girl asked.
Piper inspected the water and only saw a few bits of debris floating in it. Sticking her hand in, she found it was at least soothingly warm. The girl held up a chunk of strong smelling soap.
“Yes, I’ll have a bath, “ Piper said, remembering to speak slowly and clearly so her American accent wouldn’t confuse her.
As it was, the girl cocked her head to the side and wrinkled her forehead. To distract her from asking where she was from, Piper asked the girl her name.
“Melisande, miss,” she said with another infernal curtsy.
Piper felt a stab at the name. She hadn’t said goodbye to Mellie, had cowardly left it to Evie and Sam to explain everything in their haste to be gone. She blinked back tears and introduced herself, holding out her hand and quickly withdrawing it.
A look of compassion flashed over Melisande’s pale face and with a nod, started undoing Piper’s laces.
“Master Ferguson told me about the robbery, miss. I’m sorry for it. But I found ye a verra fine dress. I hope ye shall find it to yer liking.”
Without bothering to think about where the dress came from, she took a speedy dunk in the tub. She was dusty from the long walk, but being so fresh from modern times, she hadn’t accumulated too much filth.
She hid a smile from Melisande as she wondered how long it would be before she saw a bug. Her smile faded fast enough when a large beetle scuttled from under the bed. It was halfway to her tub when Melisande coolly stomped it with her clog.
After she swept away the bug remains she shook out the dress and held it up for Piper’s inspection. Piper wrapped herself in the quilt from the bed after giving it a surreptitious once over for crawling things, and admired the lovely gown.
The dark green velvet bodice was intricately embroidered with dark gold thread and attached to a lighter green, billowy brocade skirt. The sleeves were elbow length and had a deep cream ruffle that consisted of several layers of flouncy lace. She ran her hands over the heavy fabric with a sigh of approval. This was more like it.
Melisande helped her into the large quantity of undergarments and when she was finally completely laced into everything, she was winded and sweaty.
No wonder Lachlan had suggested she wait until the next day to meet his brother. Getting dressed in this century was a workout. And she’d have to get undressed again in a short time. Repressing a sigh at her ignorance, she decided not to wait for Lachlan to collect her.
As soon as Melisande left, she tiptoed
into the hall and took a deep breath. Following the scent of cooked meat and beer, she found the staircase and leaned over to see a pub with rows of wooden tables and benches. An elderly couple were sitting and drinking directly below her, and she could hear the hum of different conversations in other parts of the room.
Her stomach was acting up with hunger and nerves. If Lachlan was able to rustle up this beautiful dress, he could surely manage to get her a hunk of bread.
An upraised cacophony of male voices sounded from the far side of the dining area. Piper hurried down the rest of the stairs so she could get a better look, sure one of the voices belonged to Lachlan.
She edged her way along the wall and cursed herself for letting her Gaelic lessons fall to the wayside. With Sam’s help she could read a little and understand a few phrases when they were spoken in the slow, calm voice of the lady in her language lesson video. There was nothing slow or calm about the arguing group of men, but it turned out that drunk sounded pretty much the same in any century or language.
Nervously rounding the bannister, she saw Lachlan haul back his fist and punch one of the men in the face, dropping him to the rush strewn floor in a plaid heap.
With a shocked screech she ran to Lachlan’s side, gaping at the knocked out drunk, then at Lachlan.
“What did you do?” she cried.
He rubbed his knuckles and looked chagrined. He nudged the man with the toe of his boot and the man groaned.
“Piper, I present my brother, Quinn Ferguson.” He kicked him again, less gently this time, then took her elbow to lead her back upstairs.
She wriggled out of his grasp. “You can’t just leave him on the floor like that,” she said.
“Aye, I can and I will.” Lachlan glared at the lump that was his brother and then turned the gimlet eye on her.
She gasped at his mulishness and mustered a bit of venom in her own countenance. She’d sent more than her fair share of bullies packing with a dirty look.
Turning away from his stubborn scowl, she knelt down next to his brother. Her voluminous skirts threw her off balance and she tumbled forward, bracing herself against his hard chest. His eyes flew open and he drunkenly tried to focus on her.
Reunited (Book 2 of Lost Highlander series) Page 14
