by Ria Cantrell
“As I said, I understand. You don’t owe me anything; least of all an apology. Please excuse me.”
Sinead turned back to Morag, linking her arm through the older woman’s and the two began to walk away from Jamie, but not before Morag gave him one more silent admonishment. She had pinned Jamie with a look that made him feel like he had been caught with his trews down around his knees and he felt like a chastised young child. Damn her! She was a pain in his arse; she was!
As he watched the two women walking slowly toward the solar, Jamie could not help feeling a sense of loss at the thought that soon Sinead would return to her world, leaving him to the past. Again he tried to convince himself it was for the best. If only he could believe it, too.
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By the time the women had reached the solar, Sinead felt as if her leg would explode. She needed to sit down and she needed to compose herself. She was in a very dangerous state; one that at times, in the past, she had worked hard to alter. She had long thought of herself as a fighter; a strong woman; one capable of handling anything. Here she was starting to feel like she was falling apart. Yes, she had broken up with a guy more than a year ago. It had been a mutual parting of ways, but somehow she had still managed to feel rejected. She had made herself physically strong and that made her feel a sense of mental strength as well, but here she was trapped in a world that she was not supposed to be in, and though it had only been less than a few days, it seemed like she was falling apart. When she told Jamie she was trying to get home, he almost seemed saddened by the news, but he had rejected her and she still felt more than a little foolish about that. Her head was throbbing nearly as hard as her leg was and she guessed she was probably also going through caffeine withdrawal, which only added to her growing list of miseries.
Morag handed her a steaming mug of spiced cider, which was no substitute for a good cup of coffee, but it was quite delicious. The warmth of it took away some of the chill that had seemed to reach her very soul. As she peered over the rim of the mug at Morag, she saw the old woman smiling. Good grief, I hope she hasn’t given me more of her herbal coma maker!
As if reading her mind, Morag said, “I dinna’ put anything in the drink, lass, if that is what ye’ are thinking.”
Sinead nearly choked, sputtering some of the liquid out of her lips at Morag’s comment. Morag presented her with a soft handkerchief that was embroidered with small posies around the edges. Someone had taken great care to do the work and Sinead did not want to spoil it with her clumsiness.
“Take it, lass.”
“But I’ll ruin it.”
“Nay, sweet. It has dried many a tear…here,” Morag dabbed at the corner of Sinead’s lips where she had coughed out some of the cider.
“I could see in your eyes, ye’ thought I had given ye’ something. I promise ye’, I have nay. I only did that so that ye’ would sleep without pain. Ye’ve been through quite an ordeal in the last few days. Give yerself some time to process what ye’ have endured.”
Sinead shook her head. “I…I prided myself on being strong, yet I feel like I can’t deal with all of this.”
“T’is a lot for one person to take in. Dunna’ be so hard on yerself. And…dunna’ worry over much about Jamie. He is already coming around.”
“I don’t think that is the case at all. I am not sure why he kissed me or why I kissed him, but clearly that was a mistake.”
“Oh, was it, ye’ think?”
Sinead nodded definitely.
Morag took a big slurp of her drink and said very matter-of-factly, “Well I think that there are nay as many mistakes as ye’ think.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, lass, that ye’ would nay have kissed him if ye’ did not intend to. I mean that he would nay have kissed ye’ by mistake. I mean that the only mistake is that ye’ stopped.”
Sinead had to smile, in spite of the situation at hand. “Why, Morag! Don’t tell me you are prone to romantic notions of fancy?”
“Never ye’ mind about that, thank ye’ very much. Look, lass. Ye’ are missin’ something important.”
“And just what may that be, exactly?”
“Simple, lass. He came back fer’ ye’. He could nay just leave it as it was. He had to try to set it to rights.”
“But he didn’t set anything to rights.”
“Well, nay. Ye’ did nay let him, did ye’?”
“Me? Morag are you kidding me? I let him off the hook.”
“I dunna’ know much about hooks and such, but it seems to me ye’ left him burdened with the mistake of yer’ kiss. Here, drink some more for warmth and I will tell ye’ a wee bit about our dear Jamie.”
Sinead was not sure she wanted to learn anything more about Jamie. She already knew he could be a big pain in the ass. She already knew he was a man with a temper that simmered to boiling. She already knew that he was pigheaded and chauvinistic. And though he was as gentle as could be toward his little lambs, and in his care of her frozen fingers, Sinead could not discount his shortcomings, could she?
Really, what more could Morag tell her that she did not already know. Above all, Sinead already knew that she had made a big enough fool of herself. Not only that, perhaps she had read way too many romance novels. What started out as a delightful fantasy was turning into a really bad scene. This was no romance novel. This wasn’t some fairy tale where the hero saves the damsel and they all would live happily ever after in some big fine castle. Well, at least the castle part was right. Everything else about this was wrong. Sinead knew that now; perhaps she had from the first minute she stepped foot in this place.
Morag took another swallow of the cider and she said, “Just so ye’ know, lass, Jamie never comes back, when it comes to women who shared his bed.”
Sinead bristled at those words. “Great. So he is a pig, too.”
“He’s a man, girl. He’s just a man.”
“So how many women have been left by our hero? Five? Twenty? A hundred?”
Morag shrugged. “I suppose he has had his share. T’is not for me to count, but the point is, he came back for ye’. He wanted to make things right.”
Sinead laughed at the irony of it all. “Make things right, hmm, well, he didn’t. There is nothing right about this. And for the record, Jamie and I are not sharing a bed. True I am sleeping in his bed, but he is not sharing it with me. I should have never come here.”
“Ah, but ye’ did come. It seems to me that it would be wise of ye’ to finish what ye’ started.”
“I haven’t started anything. It was just a misbegotten kiss, Morag. Nothing more. I came here to warn Jamie of the ambush and I did just that. He is hale and safe so nothing more is needed of me now.”
“Oh, nay. I suppose, ye’ may be right. Aye, ye’ did warn our Jamie. That is true. Still, I do believe there are times in a man’s life when he needs more than his mortality to be saved.”
Sinead had to agree with that. “What, if anything, do you suggest I do?”
“Weellll, I think ye’ may need to get under that boy’s skin. Ye’ like him do ye’ not?”
Sinead thought about her answer. It was more than merely liking Jamie. She was drawn to him and the lure was very unnatural. It went deeper than her previous attractions to men. It was primal, almost. Then again, maybe it was more natural than not, for the pull of it had taken her back nearly 700 years. Sinead carefully answered, “I like him, sure. And I kind of don’t like him, too.”
Morag responded with a noise that sounded something like “Pfbtttt”. She waved her hand dramatically and said, “Love and hate are separated by too thin a line. The point is ye’ kissed him. I’ve ne’er known a lass to kiss a lad that she hated. Sometimes that dislike is just protection fer’ yer’ tender heart, isn’t it lassie?”
Sinead’s eyes seemed almost luminous as she nodded quickly to Morag’s summation. “You are a very wise woman, Morag.”
“Ach, lassie, I’ve lived a verra’ long
life. Ye’ only gain wisdom after years of learning the lessons. So, I will have the truth from ye’ now.”
“I have been truthful all along.”
“Aye, but ye’ have been lyin’ to the most important person. That person is ye’, my girl. Mark me, for it is so. Do ye’ or do ye’ not want Jamie?”
Sinead felt the color returning to her cheeks at the question. She was pretty certain she should not be admitting any such thing to this old woman. It would be like talking to your grandmother about sex. “Awkward, Morag. Really awkward.”
“Why lass? Do ye’ think me so old that I dunna’ remember what it was like to feel the bloom on that rose? I am a woman, too, girl and once, though it may have been a long, long time ago, I tasted the passion I see ye’ have for Jamie with every look ye’ cast upon him.”
Sinead really looked at Morag, then, and for the briefest of moments, she saw the youth that once belonged to the old woman, but had been fleeting from her many years upon the earth. This woman had lived a long life and she was still vibrant and quite powerful in her own way. Sinead was quite certain that this woman had embraced all that made her part of the sisterhood that she shared by simply being the same gender. Morag had loved and had found sensual pleasure in a man’s arms. Sometimes because a person was old, it was forgotten that at one time that person was just like a younger one.
Sinead liked Morag. She was quite an interesting old lady and Sinead was sure she had many a tale to tell. If she had time, Sinead would like to hear more of what Morag had to say and share about her life. It seemed that someone who had lived as long a life as Morag had done should have their memories preserved. Sinead suddenly thought that maybe she would even be the one to help write it down for Morag. That notion made Sinead remember the implication that she had actually written down the history of the events in this time, as found upon the manuscripts in the Cloisters. Only, if that were so, then Jamie had died and she hadn’t been able to save him.
Sinead had to put that thought out of her head. It was ludicrous. She had saved him for he was here and he was hale and unharmed. She had only just kissed him and felt the strength in his arms. According to what Sinead remembered, the skirmish that had been recorded had already taken place at the point of when she fell through the threads of time that held the eras in place.
No, she would not think of Jamie dying. It was just too painful to imagine; much more painful than a misbegotten kiss. Now that she was here and had actually met him, he was more than just a face to a name in a story penned long ago. So much more, she thought, but she also would not admit that out loud. He had already made his intentions quite clear and Sinead was never one to throw herself at a man who wasn’t interested. She wasn’t about to start now.
Despite what Morag had said, Sinead was not going to get under Jamie’s skin. That was just not how Sinead operated. A sudden thought of Sinead’s father telling her that she should never run after a man came to her. He had said it was because men were like buses and that there would always be another one to follow made her stiffen her resolve. Her parents were not around much, it was true, but that memory stuck with her as if he had spoken it yesterday.
Sinead almost wanted to shake her head. Because of the manner in which time had been so recently bended, she was not even sure when things had happened and when they had not. It could give a body a headache and she already had the perfect base for a full blown migraine which started as a terrible pounding at the back of her skull. It had already begun before she tried to make sense of the time-space continuum. She put one hand up to the side of her head and pressed her fingers to her temple.
“Lass, t’is a great deal to take in. Perhaps ye’ need to get some more rest. The day is still young and the morning meal has yet to be set.”
“No, I’ll be fine. I am usually quite an early riser.”
“Aye, but ye’ have not had the weight of a journey through centuries pressin’ upon ye’ afore now.”
“No,” Sinead protested gently again. The last thing she wanted was for Jamie to think she was a lazy and pampered woman. “I’m going to be okay…er, I mean alright.”
“At least let me give ye’ something to ease that pain in yer leg. I am a healer, lass and ye’ canna’ hide it from me.”
“It does ache quite a bit, but it isn’t unmanageable.”
“Fine, then put it up and take the pressure off of it.”
“Good idea.” Sinead stretched her leg out and she hissed lowly from the searing through her flesh. “Damn,” she groaned. She elevated it on a footstool that had a comfortable cushion tied to it. Morag pulled a woolen plaid off of one of the benches and covered Sinead with it. The room was cool as there was no fire lit in the hearth yet, but the natural light came through the heavily paned seeded glass that faced the now fully risen sun. Morag had called it a solar. There was a similar place in the replica at the Cloisters. It was a room given over to do needlework and weaving because of the flood of light during the daytime. Sinead liked it. She could imagine the ladies of the house whiling away the hours with their craft while gossiping. Sinead realized that this room was empty of such things and she suddenly felt a little sad.
“Are you the only lady of the house, Morag?”
“I am sometimes known as the chatelaine, but at times, I live in the cottage my husband had built for us. During the colder months, I reside within these walls. My old bones dunna’ take to the cold as well as they used to, lassie. The lady Bronwyn I suppose is the true lady of the house.”
“She does not use these rooms to do her sewing and….”
Morag laughed. Bronwyn was not a girl who enjoyed the genteel arts. “Nay, lass. T’is mostly used by me. I like it for the light is good and I feel the natural warmth of the sun. My lass Bronwyn is nay a, hmm how shall I put it, well she is nay as prone to those womanly past-times, I suppose.”
Sinead smiled, for the first time since Jamie had made her feel like a fool. She liked things like kickboxing and running so she supposed she would like this girl who was not stuck in the constraints of the times. For that matter, neither was Morag. “I think I should like getting to know her.”
Morag smirked and nodded, “Aye, lass, I think ye’ both shall have much in common.” Then patting Sinead’s hand she said, “Ye’ are a strong lass. Just the type of woman a man like Jamie needs, I might add. Now then, gettin’ on with our lad Jamie. I was about to tell ye’ a bit of why he is the way ye’ have seen him to be.”
Sinead rolled her eyes. “Oh, I know, he was hurt and damaged…spare me Morag. I’ve heard it a million times. We all are damaged. You don’t get through life without your fair share of damage.”
“T’is true, lass; very true. I know ye’ have had hurts to yer’ heart. Anyone can see that. So have I; more than I care to think about.”
Sinead was moved to pity for the old woman sitting beside her. Surely those closeted secrets she kept were shadows that haunted her and Sinead once again thought about what her story was and why she did not speak of the things that had burdened her. It was true that they were still practically strangers, but something about the woman made Sinead feel a certain kindred and if she had time, perhaps Morag would open up about her life because Sinead was certain that her history was worth sharing. Sinead thought about the perplexing time movement she had so only recently experienced and she was reminded that Morag would have long been a distant memory in her world. That thought gave Sinead all the more reason to want to preserve the experiences of this woman for others to learn. It was a sobering fact that the people that had gained a place in history books were only a small number compared to the people that roamed the earth and somehow, with Sinead being here in this time, made her want some of these people to have their stories told.
Morag watched the flickering emotions that seemed to pass rapidly within Sinead. She had been able to glean things from the expressions and body positions of people for most of her life and it had earned her a place as a Seer, but there were s
o many conflicting things warring within this young woman. Morag was at a loss how to read her for the moment. There had been a sense of deep sadness and Morag wondered what had spawned such raw pain in the girl. Well, it would be best, then to continue to explain some things about Jamie MacCollum, while the girl’s heart was open. She continued, “Love, Jamie’s burdens are heavy. Perhaps they are too heavy for him to bear at times. Ye’ see, he is the first born son of a powerful laird. What that means, lass, is that despite what his dreams may be, he is destined to take on the role of clan chief and leader upon the passing of Caleb, his father. Jamie does nay have the heart for it. He is a strong warrior in his own right, but he is nay suited to the clash of clans or to the leading and tending of the MacCollum people. His flock is a much different kind and he is more suited to it.”
Sinead smiled at the memory of the little lamb trotting after the big brute as if he was its mother. It was almost comical, but it warmed her heart as she thought about it again. The gentleness he showed the poor little baby was something that would just tug at a woman.
“I know. I saw him with a lamb this morning. He was working so hard to make sure the animals had enough fresh water to drink and he was so tender with a little baby lamb. I think he would much rather be a shepherd than a clan leader, I guess.”
“Aye, lassie, t’is so. Ye’ see, his lot is cast and rare t’would be for him not to succeed his father as Laird. Ach, but some men are not meant to be a chieftain and as much as I think Jamie would be a fine man to do it, t’is his heart that will nay make it so.”
“I can understand that. I mean, in my time, we are allowed to choose our own paths in life. I guess some people have things mapped out for them without their choice, but mostly, at least in the country I live in, we are free to choose whatever we want to be. I think I do feel sorry for him, then, because I certainly would not want someone telling me what I should and should not be. “
