by B. J. Scott
Katherine glanced at her watch as she padded into the parlor, surprised to see the timepiece had stopped working at midnight. “Odd. I just put a new battery in this less than a week ago.” She brought her wrist to her ear, listening to silence. One more peculiar thing to add to my list, she thought. But when she shot a glance at the antique clock on the mantle of the fireplace and it too had stopped at twelve o’clock, her mouth gaped open.
Upon entering the chamber in which she’d spent the night, Katherine immediately went to a wooden chest she’d noticed in the corner of the room. When she’d informed the solicitors that the airline had lost her luggage, they told her she’d find plenty to wear amongst her aunt’s clothing. Since there were no closets, this seemed to be the logical place to look first.
The chest was ancient, and carved on the top of it was the Grant clan crest — flanked by the letter C on either side. She lightly traced the letters with her fingertips, wondering if this had once belonged to the same woman who’d leapt off the cliff, the woman of whom she believed to be a namesake.
Rusty brass hinges creaked as Katherine raised the lid. She rummaged through an array of dresses, leines, tunics, and skirts, but she found no slacks or sweaters. Everything appeared to be vintage, clothing from centuries past. And while there was no modern-day attire to be found, Katherine paused when she spotted an ivory leine, a tunic with a brown print bodice that laced up the front, and a blue skirt.
Identical to the one worn by the lass in her dreams, she reverently removed them from the chest and closed the lid. She laid the garments across the top of it — marveling at how well the fabric had held up over the years. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear they were new. Even more shocking was how perfectly they fit when she slipped them on. She smoothed her hands down the front of the tunic. It was as if the medieval outfit had been made for her.
Mirrors were another thing lacking in the croft. If everything in her aunt’s home did date back to medieval times, and Agnes believed firmly in the old ways, finding one made of glass was highly unlikely. But she wasn’t surprised. When she first got news of her aunt’s death, she’d done a fair bit of research on the history of Scotland around the time when the cottage would have been constructed. So far what she’d seen was exactly as described. But there was also a strange feeling of familiarity she couldn’t seem to shake. It was as if she’d been her before, like she actually belonged in this house. Something she could not explain.
She’d learned that people during this time period feared the devil could watch them from the netherworld and steal their soul were they to appraise their reflections in a glass mirror. Until later in the fourteenth century, women gazed at themselves in a loch or stream. Some used reflection bowls filled with water and made for that purpose. They also used pieces of polished metal, a sample of which Katherine found on a table by the bed. She gazed at her distorted reflection and gasped, then ran her fingers through her tangled hair.
“Next order of business is to do something about this unruly mess,” Katherine muttered aloud. She’d been blessed with thick, wavy, brunette locks, that when unbound cascaded down her back, settling just above her waist. However, it was times like this she wished she had opted for a shorter style. But Ethan liked it long and forbade her to cut it.
“Ethan.” She slammed her balled fist against her thigh. She was here to forget the bastard, to heal, and move on with her life. Yet like an ominous fog on a stormy night, he kept creeping into her thoughts. Determined to shove anything to do with her ex-fiancé to the back of her mind, Katherine rooted through her carry-on bag until she found a brush and went to work on her hair, brushing until the tangles were gone and so were her thoughts of Ethan. For now.
Chapter Five
Ayden MacAndrews watched as Katherine braided her glorious locks. He wanted to reach out and stay her hands, to set her tresses free, and bury his fingers amidst the silken strands. But in his unearthly state, he could be nothing more than a silent observer.
He cursed beneath his breath. This was a lot harder than he’d ever imagined. He’d taken an oath and was now forced to wait until the time was right to reveal himself to her in a physical form. It was that, or risk his only chance of being reunited with his lost love, and to set an ancient wrong to right. He’d already come close to ruining things once and would not make the same mistake again. Until he was told otherwise, he would watch her from the shadows and dream about the day he could once again envelope her in his arms and crush her against his chest. Feel the softness of her cheek, taste her luscious lips, and kiss her senseless. “You steal my breath, mo chridhe. I—”
“This is na the time,” someone said.
Ayden spun around and glared at Malcolm MacBain. “I’m aware of that,” he snapped, then squared his shoulders. “I sensed her unrest and a strong negative energy around her. I was worried that she might be in danger and just wanted to check on her.” In truth, he’d waited so long to find her, he couldn’t bear to be parted from her again.
As the words left his lips, Katherine wrapped her arms around herself and visibly trembled, her wide-eyed gaze searching the room. “Is someone here?” she asked, her voice small and hesitant.
MacBain frowned. “She is a canny lass, and may suspect more than we think,” he whispered. “Are you certs she’s the one?”
“Aye. And she’s lovelier than I remember.” Ayden couldn’t take his eyes off her face. “She even sounds like Catriona, her voice like music to my ears. I was certain I would instinctively know when I found her, but I dinna know she would not only possess Catriona’s soul, but also be identical to her in every other way.”
“Looks can be deceiving, lad. The lass does have Grant blood coursing through her veins, she bears the name, and may harbor your wife’s soul, but she is na from 1304.” Malcolm rested his hand on Ayden’s shoulder. “She is from the twenty-first century. Remember that. Women have changed a great deal in seven hundred years. You may be in for more of a challenge than you think.”
“You had no trouble convincing her to stay here at Glen Heather on her own?” Ayden asked in an attempt to change the subject.
“She was a wee bit cautious at first, but that was to be expected. However, in the end, she accepted the terms of Agnes’s will,” Malcolm said. “But, she’s a troubled young woman and is running from something … or someone. Coming here to settle her aunt’s estate wasna her only reason for being so amiable. Of that I am certain.”
“What makes you say that about her life in the present?” Ayden asked. The idea his beloved Catriona was unhappy or could be in danger hit him like a blow to the chest. “Did she tell you thus?”
Malcolm cocked his head and cast Ayden an incredulous stare. “You know as well as I, she dinna have to tell us anything. We know all and see all.”
“Tell me.” Ayden stared at Malcolm.” Everything about Catriona concerns me. She is my wife, and it is my duty to protect her.”
“Nay, Ayden. Your wife died seven hundred years ago. This is different.”
“Na to me. She is Catriona, in every way,” Ayden countered.
“Is that why you spent the night in her bed and are staring at her with such longing now?”
“I have no idea what you’re havering about.” Ayden glanced away. He should have known he couldn’t hide anything from his ancient benefactor. He turned his back to Malcolm, hoping if he didn’t look him directly in the eyes, he might be able to keep some of his thoughts to himself. Especially his intimate ones involving Catriona. He hated that they knew everything he did, what he was thinking — things he’d never factored in when he made their agreement.
Malcolm arched a brow. “Aye, you know very well what I mean.” He clasped Ayden’s arm and spun him to face him. “After you saw the lass settled in bed and Duncan had left, you stayed.”
“To watch over her,” Ayden said.
“It was a lot more than your need to see her safe. You ken what you did was wrong, yet you let your de
sire rule your head.”
Ayden knew exactly what MacBain meant. But now that they were so close to a reunion, he was beginning to regret the promises he’d made about when and how to reveal himself to her in the physical sense. He wanted to show himself, to tell her who he was and why he’d come. He wanted to take her back to 1304 where she belonged.
“You canna keep secrets from us, Ayden. You should know that by now. When you try, it weakens the bonds of trust between us,” Malcolm said. “We can decide at any time to end this quest of yours. If the portal closes, you will never have the chance to make things right with Catriona.”
“Fine. I did spend the night in her bed. But I couldn’t help myself. The temptation to stay with her nestled in my arms, to touch her, and bring her pleasure was too great. But I satisfied her needs, na mine. She couldna see me and believed it to be a dream.” He knew he was stretching the truth. Bringing Catriona to her release gave him as much satisfaction as it did her, maybe more.
Malcolm narrowed his eyes and wagged his finger at Ayden. “We decide when you will reveal yourself and dictate how much you may tell her about the past. Na you.”
Ayden gritted his teeth, feeling irate and trapped in a promise he was forced to make, much like he felt on the day he’d first met MacBain and Murray. And while he was grateful for the chance to someday see Catriona again, he just didn’t realize waiting to touch her and hold her would be so difficult.
“As you are aware, we dinna make a habit of opening passageways to the future,” MacBain said. “We do so only when unique circumstances present themselves, and insist the rules are followed to the letter. If you have issues with that, we can close the gateway and end this here and now.”
“I’m mindful of the oath I took and am a man of my word. But—” Ayden replied abruptly, then bit his tongue. Angering MacBain would not help his cause. “The fact I have this chance to see her again is a blessing and boon I dinna take lightly.”
“Then, dinna push us, lad. Duncan and I decided to grant your wish, allowing you to search for Catriona,” Malcolm reiterated sharply. “Things will happen when they are meant to happen and na before.”
“I’m aware of what I must do,” Ayden said, hoping to appease MacBain. He released a heavy sigh and cursed beneath his breath, wondering how he could be reunited in spirit with the woman he’d loved more than life itself, yet not be joined physically. His body ached for hers. And while he knew his wife had passed on eons ago, and lay in a grave on unhallowed ground, he believed with all his heart that her spirit and soul lived in this lass. He’d been searching for her since the day he made his pact with MacBain and Murray, the day he died at the hand of her brother and traded his soul for the chance to find his only true love. Even if only to say goodbye.
“You must convince the lass of your love and sincerity, but na tell her anything about the past that might influence her,” MacBain reminded him. “Dinna forget, she must return to 1304 and remain of her own free will. But also keep in mind, should she agree to stay and things are made right, your physical beings may once again be separated. We canna promise you will remain together.”
“But I do have your word that her soul will be saved?”
MacBain nodded. “Aye. That I can promise. When you do meet again, you must convince her to trust you. If she decides to remain in the past, she must declare her love for you and do so of her own free will.”
Ayden’s mind reeled with questions. Many of which, he wished he’d asked sooner. “Will she know me in the past? Will she remember she is my wife … my life? Will she know what happened to her?”
“That is hard to say.” Malcolm stroked his chin. “Sometimes when a person goes back, they are so frightened of the unknown and feel so displaced, all they care about is returning to their own time. They fight with all their might to resist what is happening to them, or refuse to believe it.”
Ayden began to pace. “I never thought about what might happen if she was frightened or angry about going back in time. I just thought once she knew the truth and where she belonged, she’d want to stay.”
Malcolm shook his head. “If only it were that simple. But each person is different,” he explained. “Some return to the past and pick up where the spirit of their ancestor left off. They relive the events as if no time had passed, adapt as if they belong, and often have no memory of being from the future. Likewise, if they return to their own time, they pick up their lives where they left off and have no memory of having traveled to the past.”
“Then there are those who remember both. They are understandably unnerved by their journey to the past or to the future, but are also curious and decide to see how things unfold and go along, so-to-speak,” MacBain explained.
Hope renewed, Ayden faced Malcolm. “That is what I wish for Catriona. I pray she will have the courage to enter the past and will remember who she is and accept that we belong together.”
“Unfortunately, we willna know until it actually happens. There is always a chance she willna be worthy enough to make the journey in the first place.”
“You never told me that was a possibility,” Ayden said.
“There is always a possibility she isna the lost soul we are seeking and naught will happen. She will remain in her time and you will be forced to continue your quest.”
“She is the right one,” Ayden replied. “I have no question in my mind or in my heart.”
“Then when the time is right she will have the chance to make the journey,” MacBain said.
“And what of me? Once I return to the past, will I know what the future holds for her and be able to intervene? Will I remember my journeys to the future and why I have been searching for her?”
“Until now, your earthbound spirit has wandered in limbo, waiting for the next time the portal opens so you could continue your quest to find Catriona. But this time you will actually return to the past, to a time before you and Catriona are married and you go to Stirling, before the fateful day she dies, and before you came to Duncan and I for help. Therefore, you will have no memory of your trips to the future because they willna have taken place.” He patted Ayden’s forearm. “Fate will decide the outcome.”
Ayden never dreamed there was a chance that, after seven hundred years of searching, he’d find Catriona and not be able to complete what he’d set out to do. He prayed she’d go back with him, and together they could resume their life together. But as MacBain explained, there were no guarantees, and he could do nothing to sway the outcome when he had no idea what was yet to unfold.
He mulled over the terms of their agreement, one of the requirements standing out in Ayden’s mind. “When I first came to you for help, you asked me to bring you something she cherished, and told me it would aid in bringing her home,” Ayden said. “The ring I gave to you was the one I presented her on the night we wed. I could think of nothing she cherished more.”
“Aye, lad, but she has yet to discover the ring.”
“She will. I know she will. And when she sees it, she’ll remember.” Ayden grinned inwardly. He believed wholeheartedly that this was his Catriona. And once she returned to the past, he’d fight to remain with her. Come hell or high water, he’d not be separated from her again.
“Did I make myself clear?” MacBain asked.
“Aye.”
“Then come along, Ayden. I’m feeling drained and there is still much to do.”
Chapter Six
Katherine glanced around the chamber and shuddered as another cold chill ran up her spine. Admittedly unnerved by the strange things she’d experienced since arriving in Scotland and now at Glen Heather, she was tempted to forget about her inheritance and just pack up her belongings and leave. She’d never been superstitious or put a lot of store in fate or destiny, but was starting to have second thoughts.
She had dismissed the possibility of ghosts, demons, or mysterious things that go bump in the night when she was a child. An educated woman, she based her beliefs on actual
, concrete, scientific facts, though she had to admit there were things she couldn’t explain. Nor could she seem to shake the ever-present feeling that someone was watching when no one was there.
More than once she’d questioned her sanity and the wisdom of her decision to remain in her aunt’s home. But she had never been a quitter, and was determined to get to the bottom of the strange occurrences and find a rational reason for all of it. If she wanted to inherit the estate, she had a week to uncover the mysteries of Glen Heather, and in doing so, squelch her thirst for information about her family history.
With that in mind, she headed into the hallway, intent on checking out the rest of the home. She’d already explored the kitchen, parlor, and the bed chamber where she spent the night, but there were still at least three more doors to open.
The room directly across the hall was almost identical to the one she’d just left — minus the colorful tapestries, embroidered pillows, and a window overlooking the garden. Done up with a masculine flair, the chamber boasted an array of medieval weaponry hanging on one wall, but the other three were devoid of any adornments. The furnishings included a large bed covered in pelts, a small table, two wooden chairs, and a brassier that occupied one of the corners. Beneath the window was a large wooden trunk, similar to one she’d found in the room she’d slept in. Noreen mentioned that Rowland Grant had a daughter and a son, so she concluded this must have been Warren’s room.
She continued to the next door, finding the space even more sparsely decorated than the last. Given his marital ties to King Robert the Bruce and the size of his home, she figured that Rowland Grant likely had a few servants. Perhaps this room was for them.
