The Midwife: The Pocket Watch Chronicles

by Ceci Giltenan

  The few people they passed as they went cast quizzical looks towards her but no one said anything until they met one elderly woman when they were nearly to the edge of the village.

  The woman called, “Elsie, lass, where are ye going?”

  Before she could answer, Sir Cade said, “She’s going with us to Carraigile.”

  The old woman frowned, looking worried.

  Elizabeth wanted to reassure her, without risking any questions that might reveal too much. She settled on, “The MacKenzies have asked for my help.”

  The old woman looked even more concerned but she didn’t ask another question.

  When she and the MacKenzies had left the village, the men urged their horses into a trot. Again, Edda followed suit. Riding at this pace was not quite as easy. Elizabeth bumped up and down in the saddle. Not only was it was uncomfortable; she felt unstable—as if she were going to be bounced off altogether. She leaned forward, gripping the edge of the saddle. This seemed to make Edda trot faster, so Elizabeth pulled back on the reins to slow her down. Edda didn’t seem to like having her reins pulled, and tossed her head, but she did slow down.

  The cycle repeated itself over and over.

  Edda trotted.

  Elizabeth leaned forward to hang on.

  Edda went faster.

  Elizabeth reined in.

  Edda tossed her head, seeming to grow more irritated each time.

  Finally, after about three quarters of an hour of this, Edda simply stopped.

  Not that Elizabeth blamed her—this was exhausting—but she had no idea how to make the horse go again.

  “Giddy up?” That worked in cowboy movies didn’t it?

  Nothing.

  Come on, sweetie, don’t do this to me.

  Elizabeth tried bouncing a little in the saddle and nudging Edda’s sides with her feet.

  Edda started trotting again and the frustrating cycle restarted. Only this time, when Elizabeth reined in, Edda tossed her head and danced, scaring Elizabeth even more. She didn’t think she could stand ten more minutes of this, much less several days. She glanced up the road. The MacKenzie men had stopped and were looking back at her.

  Cade shook his head. “God’s teeth lass, ye’re bouncing in that saddle like a drunkard and if ye keep yanking on her reins, she’ll throw ye. Do ye not know anything?”

  “I told ye I don’t ride much.”

  “I’ll warrant that’s an understatement. Never mind. Ye’ll ride with me so we have a hope of getting ye there in one piece.”

  He rode towards her, dismounted and took Edda’s reins. He crooned to the horse, “There now, lass, I’ll save ye from the ignorant beastie on yer back.”

  Elizabeth frowned, but she couldn’t really argue the point. She was completely ignorant of how to ride a horse. Clearly climbing up and holding on wasn’t sufficient.

  When the horse had quieted, he lifted Elizabeth off.

  “I’ll take the four-legged beastie,” said a very handsome dark haired man, grinning broadly. He rode towards them, taking Edda’s reins.

  “Thank ye, Eric.”

  So his name is Eric. Cade and Eric—just two more to figure out.

  Cade led Elizabeth to his horse. She groaned with her first few steps. Even after less than an hour in the saddle, her thighs and bottom ached.

  He arched a brow at her. “Is that soft, round, backside hurting?”

  She glowered at him but he only chuckled. “That’s what bouncing around in a saddle will do to ye. Ye’ll learn to ride properly before we bring ye back.”

  He lifted her onto his horse. She started to put her right leg over, as she had before but he stopped her. “Nay, lass, stay as ye are.” He mounted behind her, pulling her close to him and adjusting her right knee over the pommel. She was effectively sitting in his lap.

  Oh. My. God. Forget Superman; this was the man of steel. His thighs, under her “soft, round, backside” were rock-hard. The arm wrapped around her waist felt like a band of iron. She could feel the rippling muscles of his chest against her back. No, that was an exaggeration—she had on too many layers of clothing. But she was certain that they rippled nonetheless. Good Lord, Elizabeth, you’re a grown woman—stop reacting like a teenager.

  That thought had no sooner crossed her mind, when he leaned close to her ear. His voice was soft and his warm breath tickled her neck. “Ye feel rather good in my arms. I may have to rethink teaching ye to ride.”

  She nearly lost her composure again. Elizabeth suddenly became much less confident about her earlier assurance that she could restrain herself. Where this insanely desirable man was concerned, she wasn’t sure of anything at the moment. The heat rose in her face, at her wayward thoughts and—discretion being the better part of valor—she said nothing.

  He chuckled richly, the sound enveloping her in a cocoon of warmth, if anything only deepening her blush.

  They rode on in silence.

  She had to steer her mind away from carnal thoughts about the medieval warrior on whose lap she sat.

  Medieval.

  Right. She needed to remember how she had gotten here. Perhaps sorting out her jumbled memories of the events of the day, would rein in her libido.

  She reviewed what she had remembered so far. She met the old woman, Gertrude, on the plane. Gertrude had given her the pocket watch and explained soul exchange…ye will be in her body, with her memories. Some of them you will experience immediately. She supposed, that explained the compulsion she felt to accept orders from Laird Macrae and to curtsy. She had never curtsied in her life. For a moment she wished riding skills had been among Elsie’s residual memories.

  Wait. No I don’t. I quite like riding on Cade’s lap.

  What Gertrude had said about language was true. She felt as if she were speaking English, but based on the names Macrae and MacKenzie, she had to be in Scotland. The absence of kilts meant it was likely more than five hundred years in the past—so they must be speaking Gaelic.

  But Elizabeth was certain Gertrude had said she would have all of her own memories. This didn’t seem to be the case. Think back Elizabeth, walk through what you do remember.

  She thought about the watch. It had one hand. That was significant. When it takes ye back in time, the hand will move forward one second for every day ye’re in the past. That’s right. She had up to sixty days—but she could return home sooner. She also remembered that the watch was supposed to have come with her. She touched her neck but found no chain. It must be in a pocket but she couldn’t very well check now. She would find it when she had a private moment.

  Her conversation with Gertrude was becoming clearer. She concentrated on what else the old woman had said.

  Before ye go to sleep, ye must tell it a word. Something ye aren’t likely to say by accident.

  Oh no.

  She was supposed to have given the watch a “safe-word” before she went to sleep. But she couldn’t remember going to sleep and had no idea what the word was. Dear God, she was going to be stuck here forever.

  Elizabeth tamped down her panic. Relax. You’ll remember. She just needed to take a step back and think about where she had been going.

  The conference. She was presenting at a conference and had reservations at a hotel in Manhattan. She closed her eyes, trying to visualize the lobby, and while she could remember what it looked like from previous stays, she couldn’t remember checking in today.

  Okay, take another step back. What happened after you got the watch?

  She walked off the plane with Gertrude and…nothing.

  Damn.

  “Ye’re a quiet one, lass.”

  Cade’s voice jarred her out of her contemplation. “No quieter than ye lot.”

  “Well that’s a fair point,” said Eric.

  “Tell us a bit about yerself, then,” said the oldest of the four men.

  “What would ye like to know…uh, I’m sorry, what’s yer name?”

  “Forgive me. I should have introduced ye,
” said Cade. “That’s Sir Sully.” He gestured to the older man. “He’s the captain of my father’s guard. That hulking warrior there, with the shocking red hair is Sir Stephan, one of my father’s guardsmen. And Sir Eric here, is another guardsman as well as my cousin.”

  “Very nice to meet ye,” said Elizabeth.

  Sully frowned. “So, Elsie, now ye know who we are, but all we know about ye is that ye’re exceedingly young. And yet, we’re meant to believe ye’re the best midwife Macrae has.” His tone was slightly mocking.

  Elizabeth sighed. She was uncomfortable lying but if she were careful, she wouldn’t have to. “I am very skilled at tending women who are carrying.”

  Sully shook his head. “Now ye see, I just don’t believe that from someone yer age.”

  “Sully, we’ve been through this,” said Cade.

  “Nay, it’s all right. I understand and am used to it but, Sir Sully, I have been learning about pregnancy and how to deliver babies for over eight years now.”

  “That would have made ye twelve when ye started training,” said Cade.

  “That’s not possible,” said Sully.

  Dammit. I’m twenty-one not twenty-eight. Go with the truth. “I was very young when I started training—much younger than most—but no one starts out just delivering babies. There are other things to learn first. Then ye watch someone with experience, and help them as ye can. Eventually they watch ye to make certain ye know what ye’re doing. All of this happens before ye do anything on ye’re own.” Essentially this was the way healthcare professionals had been trained for centuries.

  “Laird Macrae said ye come from a long line of midwives,” said Eric.

  This was trickier. She was unaware of any midwives in her family tree. But still she could make a true statement. “Aye, I followed in my family’s vocation.” Her mother’s side of the family were all lawyers in her grandfather’s firm. Elizabeth, was a bit of a disappointment to them. However, her father was a surgeon, as was his father. While they were not happy with her choice of specialty, at least she had become a doctor.

  Sully rode up beside Cade and turned to look her directly in the eye. “I refuse to believe ye’re the midwife we came for. If ye were trained by others and are still so young, they have to be more experienced than ye.”

  Elizabeth met his gaze without flinching. “I will say this one more time, and then this conversation is over. I am absolutely, without a doubt, the person best able to help yer laird’s wife.”

  Her pronouncement was met with stunned silence. After a moment, Sully inclined his head and fell back. She still wasn’t confident that she had convinced him, but at least he had let it drop.

  Cade leaned down to whisper in her ear again. “If I’m not much mistaken, ye just told a man—a warrior who is more than twice yer age and size, no less—to shut his gob.”

  She bristled. “I did no such thing.”

  “Nay? And what exactly does, ‘this conversation is over’ mean, if not ‘shut yer gob’?”

  He might be attractive but he was also irritating. “It means,” she hissed, “I have given everyone my assurances already and I have no other proof. If he didn’t believe me the first three times, asking me again will do no good.”

  His chuckle vibrated through her. “Ye are too bold by half little midwife. Does Laird Macrae tolerate this?”

  “I have seldom been in Laird Macrae’s company for more than a few minutes, and I have never had to convince him of my skills.” Another absolutely true statement.

  “I’m thinking, I need to spend a bit more time in yer company. Perhaps I can teach ye a few skills we’ll both enjoy.” His suggestive tone left no doubt as to which skills he meant.

  Elsie shook her head in exasperation, but she couldn’t suppress a smile. Were men in any century different? “Based on yer earlier assertions, Sir Cade, ye have more than enough willing apprentices. Ye probably shouldn’t waste yer precious time on me.” Although a little wicked voice within her suggested that she might quite enjoy his tutelage.

  He threw his head back and laughed.

  ~ * ~

  Cade found the Macrae midwife beyond enticing. She was a little taller than the average woman. Seated, the top of her head came up to his chin. She had silvery gray eyes that sparkled when she was cheeky. She also had an air of confidence that seemed wholly out of place in one so young. As to her other assets—the feel of her soft round backside, nestled against his groin all afternoon was pure torture. He had managed to reposition the arm he held around her waist several times, until it rested just under her bosom. She was well enough curved to please a man and it took sheer force of will to refrain from cupping his hand over a firm, round breast.

  He had promised he wouldn’t despoil her. Still, he had said nothing about enticing her willingly into his bed. That was something he would make every effort to do.

  As evening began to fall, the wind picked up, turning colder and Elsie began to shiver. “Are ye cold, lass?”

  “Aye, ‘tis a penetrating wind.”

  He pulled her snuggly against him, wrapping his plaid around them both. “Does that help?”

  “Aye, it does. Thank ye.” She sounded slightly breathless. He smiled to himself, glad she wasn’t completely unaffected by his nearness.

  “Cade, with the weather turning foul, we should consider trying to reach Brathanead castle instead of continuing on and making camp,” said Sully.

  “Aye, ye’re right. Tis an awful night be sleeping on the ground. And alas, we have no willing lass to warm us.”

  She huffed with disdain, causing him to chuckle.

  “If we turn to the east now, we should reach MacLennan land in about an hour and the castle not long afterwards.”

  The snow started to fall just before they arrived at Brathnead. The MacLennans and the MacKenzies were allies, albeit not extremely close ones.

  The watch had announced them and Laird Revelin met them in the bailey.

  “To what do I owe a visit from the MacKenzie heir?”

  “Laird MacLennan, I am escorting a Macrae midwife to Carraigile so she may tend Lady Wynda.”

  Sadness crossed the laird’s features. “Ah, Lady Wynda is expecting again. I understand. Lady MacLennan has never had trouble bearing children but we have lost three in infancy. Even now, our four year-old son, Kelvin is gravely ill with a lung ailment. Ye are welcome to stay as long as necessary.”

  “Thank ye, Laird. I am sorry to hear of yer trouble.” Cade dismounted, as did his men.

  Before he could lift Elsie off his horse, she said, “Pardon me, Laird, I have other healing skills. Perhaps there is something I can do to help.”

  Revelin’s expression was skeptical. “Ye’re very young to be a healer or a midwife.”

  “I am young, but I am well trained. I may be able to provide some assistance.”

  Revelin addressed Cade as he lifted Elsie off the horse. “Is what she says true?”

  Cade was momentarily amused by the irritation on Elsie’s face. He considered her for a moment before answering. “Laird MacLennan, I don’t know for certain. However, she has a very good reputation as a midwife and Laird Macrae, vouched for her. She may be able to aid ye and I believe she would do no harm.”

  Revelin nodded. “I cannot bear to lose my son. Aye, lass, if ye think there’s anything ye can do, follow me.” To Cade he said, “Once ye’ve seen to yer mounts, there will be food and drink waiting for ye in the great hall.” He turned to walk towards the keep.

  Elsie started to follow but Cade grabbed her arm and leaned close to her ear. “Mind yer tongue lass. Ye may be a fine healer, but if yer audacious manner offends, I will not be happy. Do ye understand?”

  Her eyes flashed with annoyance but she hissed, “Aye. I understand.”

  He let her go, watching her stride angrily towards the keep.

  Eric, who had been standing close enough to hear, grinned. “Do ye think it was a good idea to set her off just before letting her go
with Laird MacLennan?”

  “Do ye think Laird or Lady MacLennan would have tolerated her boldness?”

  “Fair point. But I suspect they will be less likely to goad her than ye.”

  Cade chuckled. “I’ve never encountered a lass quite this much fun to needle.”

  “Because they usually fall willingly into yer arms. That one will lead ye a merry chase.”

  Chapter 5

  Elizabeth followed Laird MacLennan into the keep. He called orders to servants to see to the MacKenzie visitors, then led Elizabeth upstairs to the chamber where his son was being cared for. A haze of pungent smoke from burning herbs hovered in the room. She remembered reading once that in the dark ages, incense or rosemary was often burned to ward off bad humors. It couldn’t possibly be worse for someone with a lung ailment. Although she wanted to toss the offending herbs in the hearth immediately, she stopped herself. She would see it done, but she needed to be careful.

  An older woman stood to one side and a small woman with dark hair sat next to the bed holding the boy’s hand. She turned towards them. The dark circles under her despair-filled eyes suggested she’d had very little rest recently.

  Laird MacLennan crossed the room, resting his hand on one of her thin shoulders. “Maeve, my darling, how is he?”

  “His fever continues to burn. Revelin, I cannot bear losing him.”

  “Let’s not borrow trouble. Cade MacKenzie just arrived, seeking shelter from the storm. He and several of his men are on their way back to Carraigile with this Macrae healer. She believes she may be able to help.”

  “Can, ye? Can ye truly?” The hope in Lady MacLennan’s expression caused a deep ache in Elsie’s heart.

  “There may be something I can do. Will ye allow me to examine him?”

  “Aye, of course. What’s yer name, lass?”

  Doctor Quinn was on the tip of her tongue. “Elsie, my lady.”

  Maeve caressed the lad’s cheek. “Kelvin, my little one, Elsie is going to try to help ye get better.” She stepped away from the bed.

  The child was pale but for the unnatural flush of fever in his cheeks. He looked as if he were barely breathing. She laid a hand on his cheek. His skin was hot and dry to the touch. “Kelvin, can ye open yer eyes for me?” His eyes fluttered open. She breathed a small sigh of relief—at least he could be roused. She pulled one of his lower eyelids down gently looking for jaundice, pleased again not to find any. “Do ye suppose ye could sit up if I helped ye?”