by L. L. Muir
Though it was wet, his shirt felt like it had just been pulled out of a hot dryer and she couldn’t seem to let go. Her fingers were ice cold, but normal warmth was possible if she could just leave her hands on his chest for a minute or two.
“How are you not freezing right now?”
“Auch, didn’t I say ye’d not freeze to death?”
“You didn’t say anything about keeping me warm.”
“Well, I must admit it’s been a mighty long time since I could do such a thing, but I’m offering my services now.” His voice dropped to just above a whisper. “That is to say, my warming services, of course.”
She couldn’t think of any response that wouldn’t get her into trouble, so she said nothing at all.
He cleared his throat. “Is, uh, anything else particularly cold just now?”
“My f…face, actually.” She stepped closer so she could press her cheek against his shirt, but he felt for her face, lifted her chin, and pressed his lips to hers. She was surprised he didn’t pull back when he felt her cold nose on his cheek, but he didn’t seem to notice at all. And after a second or two, she didn’t notice anything but his lips and their subtle movements.
He wasn’t just trying to warm her up, he was kissing her! It started as a friendly enough kiss, a lot like the first one, after she’d fallen off Dicken. But soon, it turned into something else. Something less polite. Less controlled. A little wild Highlander-ish.
And since she was half out of her mind with cold, and the other half out of her mind with fatigue, she decided to put whatever strength she had left into giving as good as she got. After all, when would a man like him ever look her way again, let alone want to kiss her?
She was just weighing the possibility of staying that way until the sun came up when the darkness behind her eyes turned orange. Bram ended the kiss and pulled away, leaving her face a bit warmer than he’d found it. It was a bereft kind of chill now.
She opened her eyes when she realized the growing light brought the sound of horses and voices with it.
“Lord Ogilvy!” It was Harris leading a search party, complete with torches. “Thank heavens we’ve found ye. Looks as if ye both went for a swim. Did the horse throw ye then?”
Bram shook his head. “Burned my legs. Needed the cold. All’s well now.” He looked into her eyes as he stepped back as if to say they would have to finish later.
A young man pulled a horse forward and Bram helped her up into the saddle without looking her in the eye. Unfortunately, they’d brought another horse for him. The cloak Harris had tossed over her shoulders wasn’t nearly as warm as Bram’s chest would have been snuggled up behind her, but at least her wet body would be shielded from the breeze.
It was just as well. Dreams like Bram were probably just part of the weekend package. But she couldn’t hold onto the happy moment with both hands if he was riding his own horse!
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Word was sent on ahead and preparations were already being made for a couple of hot baths. They both stood by a fire started in the hall while they waited for water to heat. Thankfully, Bram and Harris turned their backs while Peg pulled the dress off her, replaced it with a dry chemise and wrapped her in a blanket.
She and Peg did the same while Bram exchanged his wet kilt for a dry one, which was purple and brown with a line of orange running through the pattern, like the tartan Peg had worn earlier.
Unfortunately, the hot baths ended up being small tubs with hot water for their feet. But being dry was a good start. When they were both seated with blankets wrapped around them and their feet soaking, Bram sent everyone off to bed. “Sophie and I can tend to each other.”
Sitting alone together in the firelight wiggling their toes in warm water and listening to the pop and crackle of the fire echo around the empty room, was another memory she would have to hold onto. She felt as comforted and connected to Bram as if they were holding hands.
Though she hated to ruin the moment, she had something to say.
“Bram?”
“Mm?”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t realize your legs were burned.”
“We both ken it was not yer fault.”
She tried not to smile. “Just out of curiosity… Where did the rock hit you?”
He quirked his mouth to one side and pointed to the top of his head. He bent forward to demonstrate. “I was doubled over, ye see, laughing my innards out.” She swatted at him and he sat back again, fresh laughter leaking out his eyes in the form of tears. A few minutes later, it was Bram who broke the silence. “Shall we address what happened in the oven house?”
She thought about it. “Yes.” She explained why she was so hell-bent on finishing that last pan.
“Ah, I see. But do ye realize why ye should never have started?”
“No. I don’t. You’ve done nothing but try to help out since you got here. I was only trying to do the same. I can’t organize their infrastructure or boost the morale of a whole town, but I’m hell with a scrub brush—and capitalism, of course.”
He smiled at the joke, but he was still dead serious. “But to the women whose job it was to wash those pans, yer gesture not only made them worry that their contributions weren’t needed, but you insulted them.”
“Insulted—”
“Aye. These people don’t want yer pity. They want yer respect.”
“And I suppose no one here, in this whole delusional town, wants to have it just a bit easier? They don’t want to get ahead, to make a little more money, or to have someone wash their dishes for them one night, when they’re dead on their feet from baking all day?”
“Now ye have it.”
“Bull.”
“Ye don’t believe me?”
“I don’t. What kind of town wouldn’t want—” His fingers, laid gently across her lips, made it impossible to finish her sentence.
“What kind of town? Ye ken very well what kind of town.” He lowered his chin and looked her in the eye. “The seventeenth century kind.”
~ ~ ~
Bram’s lady wife shivered in his arms. The hour was quite late—probably three in the morning if his judgment of time could be trusted. And though his temporarily mortal body pleaded with him to rest, he was determined to sit there and hold the lass until her shaking ceased. If it took all night, so be it.
Her reaction was clearly his doing. He should have never put it to her so plainly. After all, what harm could it have done to let her continue believing she’d joined some medieval holiday troupe for the weekend? She would have ridden back out of his life and never known that she’d had a true taste of the actual past, happily returning to her twenty-first century life with her modern plumbing and Oregon capitalist lifestyle.
In truth, he wasn’t a spiteful man, and he’d certainly been warming to the lass, so he’d not meant to hurt her or to punish her in any way.
But, he supposed, if she handled the news well—that she’d truly been transported back to the past—she might also accept the idea that a certain Scotsman had recently been haunting Culloden Moor…after being murdered there three hundred years ago.
He didn’t wish it to be true, but it certainly felt true.
“Forgive me, lass. I should have minded my business and let ye believe what ye liked.”
She shook her head against his chest. “No. Truth is good. I just…” She shivered again.
“That’s it, then.” He stood and dragged her up with him. “I shall give ye the choice. Ye must go up to bed or I will carry ye.” He lifted a brow and waited.
“I can walk, thanks.”
Her smile gave him hope and he rewarded her with a wink. “That’s my lass. Er, I mean my lady wife.”
Once inside the bedchamber she claimed to be her own, he led her to the bedside pulled back the coverlet, and tucked her beneath it, blanket and all. Then he sat beside her hip.
“Shall I tell ye a story?”
She shook her head. “My he
ad can’t hold anything else tonight.”
“Just as well,” he said. “All I ken are ghost stories.”
She laughed and relaxed, closed her eyes and pulled in a deep breath. He took it as his cue to leave her in peace, and stood up, but her hand shot out and captured his.
“Bram? Please don’t take this the wrong way. It’s not an invitation or anything, but… Would you stay? We can share the bed without sharing the bed, right?”
“If ye’re asking if I can control myself, I believe I can. If ye’re telling me my presence will help ease yer mind, I’m afraid ye’re stuck with me.”
He stretched out on the other side of the bed, spread his own blanket over himself, then turned his back to her. His weary mortal body instantly thanked him.
“Bram?”
“Aye?”
“I’ve been told that I snore sometimes.”
“Auch, lass. All the finest folks do.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Bram was awakened by the actual aroma of food and he marveled at the fact he’d been given the gift of smell once more, until he was expected to move on to the afterlife. If his days as a ghostie were anything to judge by, the afterlife wouldn’t have much in the way of mortal sensations. A full belly, even an empty one, was a feeling he would miss once again. But not today!
He’d nearly wept with joy when Sophie had pressed a bit of bread into his mouth the day before.
He sat upright, already wishing he had more time with Sophie, even though the satisfaction of real sleep lingered in his sinews like a happy memory. Across the room, a smiling Sophie sat wearing a simple plaid arisaid that matched his kilt. A tray covered with food sat waiting on the table beside her. The smell of strong coffee drowned out everything else, but he could still remember how her lips had tasted as they’d shivered together by the loch.
“Not fair,” she said.
“What’s not fair?”
“You staring at my mouth like that. We’ll end up wasting the day in here, if you don’t knock it off.”
“Ye’d consider it a waste, then?”
“You know what I mean. We’re actually standing in the past and you want to…” She gestured in the general direction of the bed while looking away.
“It’s called snogging. What we were doing by the water last night. It’s called snogging.”
She rolled her eyes. “Breakfast is served. The coffee is terrible, like they’ve never heard of a coffee machine before.” She laughed at her own joke, but there was a slight touch of hysteria to it. The truth of the night before clearly wasn’t sitting well in the light of morning.
“Sophie, come here.”
She shook her head. “No snogging.”
“No snogging. Now, come here.”
She reluctantly obeyed and sat on the edge of the bed like a pouting teenager.
“Look at me.”
She looked.
“I’m real, Sophie Pennel. And you’re real. And we’re really here on some zany holiday with a bunch of delusional fans of medieval times. They’re feeding us horrible food in order to make our experience seem real. And while we’re asleep, they all sneak home for a quick nap and a hot shower. Then they’ll laugh at us behind our backs when we have to use the garderobe.”
She smiled then, relieved. “And they’re serving us this horrible stuff while the coffee in their mugs is from Starbucks.”
“Right, then. Let’s go out there and pretend we believe all this rubbish.”
“Um…” She grimaced and looked at the floor.
He was instantly worried. “What is it?”
“I’ve already been out there. And…they’re not drinking Starbucks.”
“I see.”
Since she was still staring at the ground, swaying her knees back and forth, he assumed she was summoning the courage to confess something else.
“Let’s have it.”
She shrugged. “Well, you’ve been asleep a long time. And I…got up early…”
He jumped from the bed and was grateful his long shirt was long enough for modesty’s sake. “They’ll be leaving for the quarry.” He gathered up the kilt that had fallen on the floor in the night, when he’d removed his belt.
“Uh, yeah. They left about five hours ago.”
He froze. “Five? What bloody hour is it?”
“Eleven.”
“Eleven! And ye never thought to wake me?”
Her face flushed red. A sure sign of something he would not like to hear. But hear it he must. So he folded his arms around the bulk of material and waited.
“I was out there.” She gestured to the window. “I didn’t know you were still asleep. I was…busy.”
He closed his eyes before he rolled them, trying not to lose his temper with her so early in… Well, early in his day at least. “Let’s have it, then. What have ye done?”
She grinned and jumped to her feet. “I have to show you.”
He could not stifle a groan of dread, but she just laughed. “Come on. I think you’ll be happy about it. But you have to get dressed first. Eat a little breakfast. And I’ll have someone get the horses ready.”
Lord help us. What has she done to history now?
~ ~ ~
Bram was not happy when the woman insisted on blindfolding him before she would allow him to exit the keep. “The steps are treacherous by design, lass. And besides, the citizens of Inverbrae will not appreciate seeing their laird led about by...”
“By a woman? Yeah, I know. Big tough Highlander and all that. But all of the men have gone to the quarry, and all the women are busy doing, you know, womanly things. So who’s going to see you? Even the old men have gone off.”
He growled in a final attempt to argue. It earned him a quick kiss on the cheek. And while he puzzled over that, she wrapped a dark cloth around his head and tied it in back. And in what he assumed was a reward for standing still during her ministrations, he got a kiss on his other cheek. Both were fleeting, but they were definite signs of affection.
Well, either that, or the woman was terribly excited about the surprise and couldn’t contain her glee.
He hoped it was the former. And he prayed God would forgive him for wanting the lass’ affection, considering they only had a day left together.
No. That wasn’t quite honest, and since he was silently praying to Him at the moment, he rephrased his prayer. He didn’t only want her affection. He wanted her heart. For it would be a warm thing to take along with him into the afterlife, aye?
He cleared the emotion from his throat and it sounded rather more gruff than he’d intended. But that earned him a soothing stroke and a wee squeeze on his arm.
“Trust me,” she whispered. Then the smell of oak and oil passed by him when she opened the door.
The first step required much more courage than he expected, but once he got going, he realized how completely his trust was required. But he had to credit Sophie. She described every step of the way, never leaving him in the dark, so to speak. And in no time at all, they were standing at the bottom of the steps waiting for their mounts.
“You’re doing much better than I expected,” she said, then chuckled and wiped the nervous sweat from his temple. “I didn’t think you could take directions. You’ve got real talent for giving them. But since you got to be boss yesterday. Today is my turn.
“Ye expect me to ride blind, then?”
She leaned against him and purred. “Aye, I do.”
He straightened away from her so he wouldn’t make a fool of himself in front of those watching him. And yes, he knew they were there. At least a dozen people breathed at him from different directions, and it took all his control not to reach for his weapon.
But how many chances would he have to patronize his sweet lass’ requests?
In the day that was left to him? Not many.
The horses were brought along. Three of them, if he wasn’t mistaken.
“Who rides with us, my lady wife?”
&nb
sp; She gasped. “None of your business. At least, not yet.”
He was pleased to have impressed her with his deduction. Perhaps he could do it again.
Since his hands weren’t tied together like some prisoner, he was able to find his stirrup and mount without help. When he reached for the reins, however, he couldn’t locate them.
“I’ll be leading your horse, my lord husband. Just relax. There aren’t any cliffs nearby, right?”
“But there is a loch. And if I can trust anything about ye, lass, I can trust ye’ll want yer revenge soon enough.”
She laughed and his horse started moving. “I nailed you with that rock, remember? We’ll call it even.”
“Even then. Aye.” Even was an excellent place to start wooing a lass. However, by being an obedient husband and allowing her this game, she was already in his debt.
They rode out the first gates and he sensed the guards watching closely, though they remained silent. As they continued through the outer bailey, he felt even more eyes upon him, and though he heard many whispers from the curtain wall in all directions, he could not make out what they were saying.
Just as well. He would hate to have to teach his soldiers manners and disrupt Sophie’s little surprise.
“This place is great, by the way,” she said from a few feet ahead. Then she was suddenly beside him. “Did you know that, if you stand by the inner gate and speak, your voice can carry to a large crowd here? The wall keeps the sound from getting away, I guess.”
Large crowd?
“Ye were here, then, when they gathered this morn?”
She laughed again. “Oh, yeah. I was here.”
Though her laughter certainly created fizzy bubbles inside him each and every time he heard it, he was growing weary of not understanding the cause of it. So, whatever her surprise might be, he certainly hoped it would be revealed soon. Then he could see about making her laugh with him, instead of at him. He could just imagine her exchanging looks with the man or woman who rode behind them.
“Don’t worry. Just a few more minutes and I’ll stop torturing you. Okay?”
