Everything In Its Time

by Dee Davis

  "Dinna fash yourself about that, my love. Ranald and I will see to it." Iain slipped an arm around Katherine's shoulders and gave her a quick hug. " 'Twill be fine you'll see. Ranald has already told them that you're here. So they know of your troubles."

  "And will ask questions." Katherine tried not to look as frightened as she felt.

  "Perhaps a few. But I've told them your tale. And warned them you're fatigued." Ranald spoke matter-of-factly as if coaching time travelers was an everyday occurrence for him.

  "What about this Alasdair fellow. You said I should watch out for him." With nervous fingers, she smoothed her overdress. What had Iain called it, an arasaid? Whatever it was called she felt certain she'd never be able to get into or out of the thing without help.

  "There's nothing to worry about," Iain assured her.

  If that was true, why had Iain and Ranald just exchanged glances? Katherine smiled, trying to appear serene. The three of them had spent the better part of the day working on a way to explain her presence at Duncreag.

  She could do this.

  Iain took her elbow, his voice pitched low, for her ears only. "Dinna be afraid, I'll be by your side the whole time."

  She squared her shoulders and held tightly to his arm. Standing beside him, she certainly felt invincible and if that wasn't enough, Ranald flanked her on the other side. Oh, Lord, she sounded like she was preparing herself for battle. Next she'd be thinking about girding her loins— whatever the hell that meant.

  She blew out a breath, ignored the insane desire to yell charge, and looked into Iain's eyes. The love she saw reflected there calmed her fears. With him beside her, she could do anything.

  "Let's knock 'em dead, boys."

  *****

  Katherine was glad of Iain's hand on her arm as he led her out into the hall. It was amazing how little it had changed. The tapestries looked newer and the tables were different, but otherwise it could have been the same hall she had eaten in ... had it only been last night?

  Serving girls moved about the tables, preparing for the meal. The principal members of the household seemed to be gathered by the fire. Two women—Sorcha and Ailis, she assumed—sat together, heads bent in conversation. Two men stood with their backs to the fire, no doubt enjoying its warmth.

  As they approached the group, conversation stopped. Katherine tensed involuntarily. Iain gave her arm a comforting squeeze. She drew in a breath and forced herself to relax, tipping her head up for a quick look at Iain. He looked calm, and devastatingly handsome. She darted a glance at Ranald. He winked and smiled. This was it then.

  Iain released her arm and with a firm hand at her back eased her forward. "May I present Lady Katherine St. Claire. Katherine, this is my auntie Sorcha and our neighbor Ailis Davidson."

  Iain's aunt rose from her seat, extending a hand. "You puir wee lamb. Such a terrible thing to have happen." Katherine took the woman's hand, not quite certain what to do with it. Before she had a chance to look to Iain for help, Sorcha had taken her other hand, and guided her to their bench. "Come and sit with us by the fire." With a sigh of pure relief, Katherine sank down onto the seat next to Ailis.

  "Ranald told us you were attacked. It must have been horrible. However did you find the courage to get away?" Ailis' gaze held a mixture of fascination and awe.

  Katherine shifted uncomfortably. "I really don't know. I guess I just ran."

  "Ailis, I hardly think the lady wishes to relive her terror." Alasdair moved to take Katherine's hand. "May I introduce myself, since our host has failed to do so? I'm Alasdair Davidson, Ailis' brother." He bent over her hand, turning it so that his lips pressed against her palm. She felt the tip of his tongue flick against her skin. She shuddered and pulled her hand away as quickly as she could without causing offense.

  Iain appeared behind Alasdair's shoulder, another man standing right behind Iain. Reinforcements. Katherine could not contain her sigh of relief and only hoped Alasdair hadn't noticed. "Katherine, may I present Fergus Mackintosh. Fergus, was my father's captain."

  Fergus neatly stepped in front of Alasdair, forcing the younger man to move away from her. Katherine smiled. Score one for Iain.

  "Captain Mackintosh, it is such a pleasure to meet you. Iain has spoken of you with such fondness and high regard."

  Katherine smiled as Fergus, too, bent over her hand. The tips of his ears were pink, a sure sign she had pleased him. "My Lady, you are most welcome here. 'Tis sorry I am that your journey couldna have been a safer one." The old man straightened and smiled.

  "Thank you. I'm sure if I had been traveling with you, I would never have been subjected to such an ordeal." Katherine gave him an illuminated smile and Fergus' ears immediately turned from pink to bright red.

  "Lady Katherine, I understand your sire is from France." Alasdair drew close again and Katherine fought the urge to lean back, putting as much distance between herself and Alasdair as possible.

  "Why yes, my father has a small holding there, in Gascony." She threw up a quick prayer that her history was correct and Gascony was a recognizable region in the fifteenth century.

  "Ah, I've never been there, but I have always longed to travel to Paris. On dit que c'est la plus belle ville du monde."

  "Elle est trés belle, en effet. Your French is excellent, monsieur."

  "Please, call me Alasdair."

  His smile was insolent as he let his gaze drift over her body. She felt exposed, a shiver of dread running down her spine. This guy definitely gave her the creeps. It was all she could do to smile and nod in acceptance. "Alasdair, then."

  Iain interrupted. " 'Tis time for our evening meal." He offered Katherine his arm. "Alasdair, if you'll be kind enough to escort my aunt."

  Alasdair shot Iain a venom-filled look and turned to offer a hand to Sorcha. Watching them cross the hall, heads together in deep conversation, Katherine moved closer to Iain.

  "Dinna let him worry you, he is harmless enough. An annoyance—nothing more."

  Katherine smiled up at Iain and wondered why his words did not ease her mind.

  *****

  The meal seemed to drag on forever. Iain wanted nothing more than to have Katherine alone in his chamber. It was taking every once of self-restraint he had not to pick her up and carry her out of the hall, proprieties be damned. He marveled at how well she was playing the part they had devised. He might believe her himself if he did not know better. She had even handled Alasdair, responding to his comments in flawless French.

  Iain wondered if he would have been able to do as well if their places had been reversed. He thought not. The wonders of the world she described would no doubt overwhelm a man. No, he was happiest here in his own time. He frowned, worried that Katherine would feel the same way. Could she truly be happy here? He vowed that he would do everything in his power to make it so.

  He watched as she tilted her head and whispered something to Ranald, who laughed and offered her a bit of meat from his trencher. She smiled, then leaned toward him to take the morsel from his knife. Iain felt his belly knot with jealousy.

  "She is lovely, isn't she?"

  Iain pulled his gaze from Katherine and turned to his aunt. "Aye, that she is."

  Sorcha turned her gaze to Ailis. "Ailis is also fair of face, do ye no' think?"

  Iain glanced at Ailis. She was talking with Fergus, a bright smile lighting her small face. "Aye, she is comely enough."

  "Your father was entertaining thoughts of a match between the two of you."

  "Aye, so Alasdair tells me. It seems my father discussed the subject of my betrothal with everyone but me."

  "Ach, Iain, you know that Angus wanted nothing but the best for you, as Alasdair wants only the best for his sister. The two of you would make a good match."

  "My father is dead and what Alasdair wants has naught to do with me. Whom I wed is nobody's business but my own."

  "Peace, nephew. I was but making conversation, no' trying to meddle in your affairs." She looked at Kath
erine again, this time with speculation.

  "Are you in love with her then?"

  Iain looked at his aunt in surprise. He had not thought her so observant. "What makes you ask that?"

  " 'Tis written on your face. I may be naught but an old maid, but I know something of love." Sorcha's features twisted briefly with pain and regret.

  "Do you now?"

  "Aye that I do." Her face closed, bitterness warring with tears.

  Perhaps Sorcha had loved his father. What a waste. Iain wondered what it would be like if Katherine had no feelings for him. He scowled at the thought and patted his aunt's hand in an awkward attempt at comfort.

  She gave him a watery smile. "Be careful, Iain, there are those who willna take the news of your feelings for Katherine well."

  "If you mean Alasdair, dinna fash yourself. He knows I'm no' of a mind to wed with Ailis. Katherine being here changes nothing."

  Sorcha looked as though she wanted to say more, but Alasdair chose that moment to interrupt.

  "Mackintosh," Alasdair said, leaning forward, "I heard you had a little trouble with the Macphersons."

  "Aye, that we did."

  "And is it true that one of the blackguards killed Angus?"

  " 'Tis true that one of the reivers carried Angus' dirk,” Ranald answered, exchanging glances with Iain. "Whether or no' he killed Angus we canna say for sure."

  "But surely it seems likely?" Alasdair drank from his wine cup, eyeing Iain over the rim.

  " 'Twould seem the most feasible explanation." Iain shrugged slightly, his expression purposely bland.

  "Then I would offer a toast to vengeance served." Alasdair raised his cup in salute.

  There was a pause and then Iain, too, raised his cup, the other men following his lead. Iain offered his wine to Katherine so that she could partake of the toast as well. She slowly sipped it, her eyes never leaving his. In all his life he could never remember wanting a woman like this. Just watching her drink from his cup made him ache with need. He pulled his gaze away and tried to pick up the thread of conversation.

  Fergus was speaking. " 'Twas a good fight. But we were saddened at the loss of Andrew."

  Ailis reached across Ranald, touching Katherine on the sleeve. "Andrew was killed in the battle. And another man, William, was injured. Sorcha has been seeing to his wound. She knows the healing ways."

  "Ach, only a little bit, Ailis. And, in this instance, I'm afraid it may no' be enough. His fever is still high and he has yet to wake. I fear for him. But there is no more I can do."

  Iain's gut roiled at the news. If William died, the fault would be his to bear. His body tensed and his fist tightened on his wine goblet. He should have done better by William. Katherine met his gaze, her eyes clouded with concern. Under the table, she gently stroked his thigh, her touch meant to comfort.

  Fergus cleared his throat. " 'Tis too soon for these long faces. He has only been home a few days. Give the lad time to heal. With Sorcha's care he'll be up and about in no time."

  "God will that it be so." Ailis' words brought an echo of agreement from the others sitting at the table.

  *****

  "Tell me about William's injuries. Maybe I can help." Katherine sat on the rug by the fire in Iain's bedroom. He handed her a cup filled with spiced wine and sat beside her.

  "Are you a healer in your time, then?"

  Katherine shook her head. "No. I've just always seemed to have a knack for it. I was always bandaging up something or someone when I was a kid. I actually studied medicine a little in college, but decided I didn't really have the dedication it takes to become a doctor. Anyway, just being from the twentieth century probably gives me the edge over any healer here. There have been quite a few advances in medicine in the last five hundred years. Not the least of them being cleanliness."

  "If you think you can help William, I'll welcome anything you can do."

  "William means a great deal to you, doesn't he?"

  "Aye. When I came back to Duncreag from fostering, he was always underfoot. He followed me like a puppy. Always wanting to know what I was about. He was a bright lad, and learned quickly. When I left for Moy he was still but a boy. And now ... now he may never see his manhood at all."

  Katherine laid a hand on his shoulder. "Fergus was right. It's too soon to tell anything. My grandmother always told us there was no point in borrowing tomorrow's problems."

  "A wise woman. I'll take you to William in the morning then."

  "I'll need Sorcha's cooperation. I'm not sure she'll accept what I'll want to do."

  "Dinna worry, I'll see to my aunt."

  Iain drank from his cup and stared thoughtfully into the fire. "She knows about us."

  "Who? Sorcha?"

  "Aye. She knows that I've feelings for you."

  Katherine froze, her wine halfway to her lips. "Pardon?"

  Iain reached out to take her cup. "I said, Sorcha knows that I love you. She seems to think 'twas plain on my face for all to see."

  "Is that bad?" She licked her lips.

  He smiled at her, his eyes warm and tender. "Nay, 'tis only that I'd thought to share my feelings with you first."

  "I see." Katherine's voice was soft.

  Iain gently cupped her chin. "I love you, Katherine St. Claire."

  She smiled tremulously, her eyes brimming with tears. "I love you, too."

  Iain's look turned serious. "Aye, but do you love me enough to stay here in this time and place? Enough to be my bride?"

  Katherine drew in a sharp breath and placed a trembling hand on his arm. "I've traveled a long way to find you, Iain Mackintosh. And now that I have, I've no intention of ever letting you go. But are you sure you want to marry me? I'm not of this place, and we have no way of knowing if I'll be able to stay."

  "Hush, mo chridhe." He placed a finger to her lips. "You're here now and you're of my heart. That's all that matters."

  "Then I would be proud to be your wife."

  Iain pulled her close within the circle of his arms, his breath whispering against her ear.

  "Then so shall it be."

  Chapter 13

  KATHERINE YAWNED SLEEPILY and opened an eye. The first pale pink rays of sunlight were filtering into the room. Morning. Actually, morning in the fifteenth century, and she was a married woman. She let the thought wash over her. Married. Well, there was the formality of a priest's blessing, but according to Iain, marriage in these times basically consisted of an agreement and a consummation. And what a consummation it had been. Katherine felt her face go hot with the memory of last night's lovemaking. It seemed that each time with him was better than the last.

  On that thought, she rolled over, reaching for her husband. The bed was empty. Panic began to rise as she quickly sat up, eyes closed tightly, clutching the covers. Oh God, please don't let it have been another dream. Please let it be real. She slowly opened her eyes, holding her breath. She was still in Iain's room. Their room now. She released her breath, her heartbeat returning to normal.

  She surveyed the room, looking for signs of where Iain might be. The door to the room was still barred shut, so that eliminated his having left by that that route. She knew he hadn't left by the door to the adjoining chamber—a large and very heavy chest now barred the way. Katherine smiled, remembering the ferocity with which Iain had ordered her to stay away from the adjoining room, emphasizing the point by dragging the huge trunk into place. Not that she had any intention of going through that door. It would be a cold day in hell before she ventured into that room again. She planned to have a long and happy life here with Iain ... if she could find him.

  There had to be another door in here somewhere. She eased out of bed, shivering a little when the chilly morning air hit her bare skin. She eyed her dress, flung with some abandon into a corner by the bed. No chance of getting that thing on without help. She picked it up and smoothed out some of the creases. Folding it and the linen shift that went beneath it, she left them on the end of the bed. She
needed something easier to put on. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a splash of yellow-brown. Suppressing a smile, she walked over to the bedpost and, standing on tiptoe, retrieved Iain's shirt from where it had been flung the night before.

  It had been a wild night.

  She slipped the long shirt over her head and fastened the belt from her dress around her waist. The effect was probably humorous, but she had no time for vanity. She was on a quest.

  She turned slowly in a circle, examining the room. There had to be another way out. A shadow flickered in the corner by the fireplace, revealing an arch that opened into what looked to be a small hallway. Grinning with triumph, Katherine set out to explore.

  What she had thought to be a hallway was, in fact, the opening to a narrow spiraling staircase. Katherine looked up, trying to see in the gloom. There was a faint light somewhere toward the top and a little bit more coming from the small slits that passed for windows, but no other illumination. With one hand firmly on the railing, she started to climb.

  About halfway up, she began to question the wisdom of her decision. So far there were no doors off the stairs. They seemed to wind upward to infinity. Katherine took a deep breath and continued. Sooner or later, it had to come out somewhere, didn't it? The stones were cold under her feet. She promised herself that the next time she set out to explore the tower she would consider wearing shoes. The stone steps twisted once more and then dead-ended. A small wooden door set into the wall stood half-way open.

  In for the penny, in for the pound. Katherine reached out and pushed. The door squeaked open. She squinted as sunlight caught her full in the face. She ducked through the stone frame and found herself standing on the battlement. Instinctively, she took a step closer to the tower, not letting herself look at the incredibly short stone wall that separated the battlement from thin air. This must be the door Mrs. Abernathy had mentioned, the one that had been closed off. She drew in a breath. The door that she had remembered—the one that hadn't existed in the twentieth century.