by Pam Binder
The silence in the room deepened, broken only by sounds of merriment from below. Amber felt the moments tick by. “Please continue.”
“My brother freed all the women who were accused and ended the slaughter before it could worsen.”
Amber remembered what she’d learned about this age of superstition. The people involved were fanatical, and wouldn’t have given up so easily. “Didn’t they send more men?”
Elaenor shook her head. “Lachlan does not allow intolerance. No one fears the witch-hunters here. He has seen to it. His power reaches the royal courts. They will send no one to replace those he… dealt with.”
“And what of Grizel?”
“He discovered that Grizel had been crippled under the torturer’s hand, and her daughter blinded. He offered to bring them to the castle, but they wanted to stay in Inverness.” Elaenor smiled. “Lachlan has a kind heart, no matter how hard he tries to hide it. He has never forgotten Grizel and her daughter. He provided a cottage in die village and visits them often.” She stood, as though wanting to change the subject. “But why are we speaking of such things? My brother will be anxious to see your new gown.”
Amber smoothed the material over her waist. Lachlan didn’t share the superstitious views of the rest of this time period. In fact, he’d taken an additional step and actually defended those accused. A dangerous position in itself. But it meant that he would be her strongest ally if anyone ever accused her. As each day passed she felt the desire to tell him the truth increase. Of course, even if he was tolerant, there was no way he could grasp the notion of what she was saying.
Elaenor smiled. “If we do not join those downstairs soon, Lachlan will have departed.”
Amber linked her arm through Elaenor’s and guided her to the door. “Is your brother aware of your matchmaking tendencies?”
Yellow torchlight changed the ale in Lachlan’s tankard to a dark gold. It reminded him of Amber’s hair. He drained the tankard and looked about the crowded tavern. His mind was truly addled. Must everything remind him of her? He remembered seeing a child frown at the festival, and had thought Amber might enjoy telling the lad a story to cheer him; he heard laughter and wondered what she might be doing at that moment, or what she might be thinking. Elaenor had sent him a message that Amber had bought a new gown and would be joining him for the evening meal. And here he sat, waiting. If he be in such a desperate need of the company of a woman, there were many in this village who would welcome him and without putting demands on his time.
A hush fell over the tavern. He raised his head to determine what had caused such a distraction. His sister was approaching arm in arm with Amber. He stood. The heat in the tavern closed around him as she drew nearer. The gown accentuated her charms: her full breasts, narrow waist, and the sway of her hips. Lachlan’s pulse raced. He stood, his palms were sweating. He longed to caress her skin, to feel her naked body against his. She smiled and his heart stopped. He could not breathe nor speak words that he would trust. Stumbling backward, he sought the comfort of the cool night air.
Amber flinched as the tavern door slammed shut. She glanced at Elaenor. “Is something wrong?”
The young woman smiled. “From the expression on my brother’s face, I would say he finds your gown more than suitable.”
Morning sunlight glistened on the dew-covered grass. Amber, drawn by the cheers of the crowd, saw a juggler tossing bright colored balls in the air and a fire-eater performing next to him. Along the field adjoining the River Ness, men were playing a game that resembled a cross between American soccer and rugby. She wondered how soon it would be before women joined in these games. Centuries, no doubt. Too bad. She would have enjoyed the exercise and thought Elaenor might as well. Of course the trick would be to find something to wear that was easy to run in and would not cause a scandal.
Amber hadn’t been able to talk Elaenor into coming to the festival this morning. She had said she needed to finish her letter to her friend, Elizabeth, but promised to come later. Even so, Elaenor had insisted that Amber wear the red dress. She smiled, remembering Lachlan’s reaction. There was a moment when their eyes met… her face grew warm. She was acting like a schoolgirl with her first crush. It was unsettling.
A dog barked. A half-dozen boys raced toward her. Gavin led the pack. Their clothes were splattered with dirt and their faces flushed from running. They laughed and wrestled playfully.
Gavin stopped in front of her and handed her a sprig of wild heather. The stem was bent and the bloom wilted, but he presented it to her as though it were a long-stemmed rose. “This is for you.”
She took the flower from him, inhaling its fragrance. The unexpected gesture brought tears to her eyes. “Thank you. Would you like me to tell you all a story?”
He nodded, smiling so hard his dimples showed. He turned and whispered to his friends. “I told them you tell better stories than Torquil the minstrel.”
She laughed. “I don’t know about that, but I’ll give it a try.”
Amber led them to a small, grass-covered mound not far from the river. Shielding her eyes from the sun, she searched for Lachlan. He was nowhere in sight. Disappointed, she turned her attention back to Gavin and his friends.
One of the boys tugged on her gown. He was the smallest of the bunch with big brown eyes and chubby cheeks. She resisted the urge to put her arm around him. Boys this age felt they were too old for hugs.
Gavin’s words tumbled out in a rush. “Peter wants to know what the story will be.”
Amber rubbed her chin, deep in thought. She could tell them a few tales of the wonders of her century. She looked up at the sky and pointed.
“I’ll tell you about a man who walked on the moon.”
All the boys smiled. Amber eased herself down on the grass as they crowded in, focusing their attention on her. She began the story of Neil Armstrong, feeling a warm glow wash over her. It was the same sensation as when she’d first started teaching. If d been a long time since she’d felt this good about her chosen profession. As she was quoting Armstrong’s words, “one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind,” a leather ball seemed to fly from the sky. It landed beside her. The boys leaped to their feet, cheering and shouting.
Gavin pointed to a half-dozen men who were running straight for them. “We are in their way. We’d better move.”
She stood, dusted the loose grass from her dress and saw Lachlan running toward them. His chest was bare, his face was caked with mud and his eyes were focused on the ball that lay near her feet. Her heart beat out of control. He looked even more handsome today than he had last night.
Shouts of competition rang through the air as an opposing team of men ran from the opposite direction. The men had resumed the game they’d begun yesterday. A surge of exhilaration swept through her. It had been months since she’d played.
Amber ignored Gavin’s pleas to leave the area. Instead, she picked up the ball, raised it over her head and threw it an equal distance from both groups. Her college soccer coach had bragged that she had a strong and accurate throw in. The distance was not as good as it used to be, but not bad, if she did say so herself. Both teams veered in the direction the ball had taken. Lachlan reached it first. Muscles flexed, he looked over at her. He wore that expression all men have when they’re trying to impress a woman, and kicked the ball halfway across the meadow. She covered her mouth with her hand to smother a laugh. Some things would always be the same, thank goodness.
Gavin’s eyes were wide and his mouth open as he turned toward her. “Where did you learn the skill to throw?”
She’d be willing to bet a year’s teacher’s salary not too many women, in this century, could throw a ball as far as she just had. But before she could think of a plausible explanation, Gavin’s attention was diverted to the game. He’d forgotten all about the throw and the story. She smiled. Children were easily distracted.
She put her hand on his shoulder. “Why don’t you run along and watch your brot
her?”
Gavin hugged her. “I promise I shall listen twice as hard tomorrow.” He bolted for the field, followed by his friends.
It didn’t matter what century you were from, children were all the same. She smiled, watching the boys run along the sidelines. They had removed their shirts, no doubt in imitation of the men on the field. She noticed Gavin’s back had healed without leaving any scars from Bartholomew’s beating. She was little surprised, but maybe the boy’s wounds hadn’t been as deep as she had first thought. Hopefully any emotional injuries had healed as well.
She took a deep breath of the fragrant air and turned to watch Lachlan. He was in the lead, and looking strong and athletic. The morning had turned warm suddenly. She brushed her hair back from her shoulder and watched him. There was something about him that was different, something that set him apart. She couldn’t identify it, or why she enjoyed watching him. It must be the kilt.
The notes of a fiddle drifted toward her and she followed the sound. The relaxed atmosphere of the festival, as well as the warm October sun, conjured up the image of Camelot. A place where anything was possible and love was forever. Amber sighed and smiled at the daydreams that swirled in her head. There might be more of her Aunt Dora’s romantic nature in her than she thought. However, in the past, when a potential Prince Charming appeared, she had discovered his armor was tarnished. Her aunt always reminded her that she would have to kiss a lot of frogs before she found her prince. Amber had almost given up hope. Almost.
She headed in the direction of the music. A small gathering surrounded the fiddler; the tune was quick and lively. A circle dance began to form, increasing in size as people joined in. Those not participating clapped their hands in time to the music, while others sat on the grass nearby. Amber looked back toward where die men were playing. The game must be over. Lachlan was heading in her direction.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Elaenor run toward her. Amber smiled. “I thought you had a letter to write.”
“I did, but I heard the music, and remembered what you said about not losing myself in my books. Please, will you join in the dance with me?”
Before Amber could answer that she hadn’t a clue how to perform the complicated steps, or any dance steps for that matter, Elaenor had pulled her into the midst of the group. The music stopped as the fiddler accepted a tankard of ale. He handed it back as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. The lull afforded Amber sufficient time for panic to set in.
“Elaenor, I can’t do this.”
Elaenor looked distracted. “Did you say something?” Amber wondered if it would do any good to tell her she hadn’t the faintest idea what she was doing and decided, probably not.
The fiddler began a new tune, more lively than the last. The notes seemed to fly through the air, infusing new energy into the dancers. Many more joined in and several people in the crowd began to sing. Amber caught a few of the lines. Something about a man and a woman. Was there ever any other kind of song? On the perimeter of the group she saw Lachlan staring at her.
He smiled and she felt the heat rise on her face. Terrific. Last night, when she felt in control and beautiful, he hadn’t said a word. In the light of day, when she couldn’t keep her eyes off him, he’d decided to stay. Good thing the music was loud, it would drown out the thundering beat of her heart.
It was time to escape. She turned to Elaenor. “I never learned how to dance. I think I’ll sit this one out.” The remark was sort of true. She’d never been taught any medieval Scottish folk dances in physical education class, or anywhere else for that matter.
“I shall teach you.”
She was trapped. Elaenor was determined to have a good time.
Elaenor reached out to her. “Hold my hand, and the hand of the person next to you.”
Amber did as she was told. “Now what?”
“The women will dance in one direction, while the men form a circle on the inside and dance the opposite way.”
No sooner were the words out of Elaenor’s mouth than the women started to move. Amber looked down at Elaenor’s feet and tried to mimic the dance. They kept on the balls of their feet. Step behind, step in front, step and stamp, stamp. The movements were not as difficult as Amber had first thought and soon the steps became automatic.
She felt the exhilaration that always came to her when she exercised. Tension melted away as the dancers matched the tempo of their steps to the fiddler’s music.
A loud yell brought the men into the center of the circle. They were greeted with an answering shout from the women. Lachlan was among the men. His expression was unreadable as he kept in step with the other male dancers. Closer and closer he came, until he brushed against her shoulder, circled, and then faced her again. He looked at her and smiled.
She missed a step in her confusion. ‘“What a mess.”
The deep sound of his laughter seemed to vibrate through her. He placed his hand on her waist and she could feel the warmth of his touch.
The tempo of the music increased. Each note blended into another. The townspeople swirled around her in a blur of smiling faces. She watched the world spin past as she held onto Lachlan’s arms, feeling the strength of his muscles beneath her fingers. He drew her closer. Her heart beat a little faster. She shouldn’t feel such a strong attraction to him. He was too tall, and his eyes were too blue.
The sound of a second fiddle joined the first, its notes clear and quick. Lachlan’s hand was on die small of her back, and he was bending toward her. Had they stopped dancing? She couldn’t tell. He leaned down and kissed her lightly on the lips. His touch was warm and his voice a whisper.
“You should always wear the color red.”
“Last night…”
He traced the line of her chin with his thumb. “I dared not stay. I find that it is hard to breathe when I am near you. But, away from you, I lose the reason to breathe.”
Chapter 7
Amber walked along the River Ness, watching the sun glisten over the water. The music and the dance she’d shared with Lachlan were only a memory. The walk would help dear her head. Angus had pulled Lachlan away from her to continue their game. She looked over her shoulder. He was shoving past an opponent for control of the ball, but paused long enough to wave to her. The gesture almost cost him the advantage he’d gained. She smiled to herself.
Angus, whether he knew it or not, had saved the day. A few more minutes in Lachlan’s arms and she would have been melted butter. He wanted her and she wanted him. And if the two of them slept together, what would happen next? In the twentieth century the scenario was simple. It broke down into five words; meeting, dating, lust, friendship and commitment. Of course, it didn’t always happen in that order, and the last two were tricky, but she’d always felt it was important to know the stages. In the Middle Ages she had a feeling there might be a few more rules. And then there was always her aunt’s explanation of love. She’d said that a person just knew when it was going to work. It was not necessary to examine the pros and cons, or list the number of things you had in common. But her aunt was an incurable romantic.
A flock of birds flew overhead in a slow, relaxed flight. She headed in the direction of a line of thatched-roof houses that overlooked the River Ness. The homes were in the same general location as Aunt Dora’s bed-and-breakfast inn. Her aunt had told her that their ancestors dated back to this time period, and had lived along the water. Of course, her aunt’s people were fishermen and weavers. She smiled, wondering if in one of these houses there was a MacPhee. It might be fun to see if there was any family resemblance. But it would have to wait until after the festival, because the present homes looked deserted. Amber saw a small fenced area where a half-dozen cattle grazed aimlessly. In front of one of the houses hung fish on wooden spits above an open fire.
The seamstress, Grizel, carrying a basket under her arm, hurried into one of the homes. She seemed to be the only person around. There was an unnatural stillness in the air.
A scream pierced the quiet. It emanated from the house she’d seen Grizel enter only moments before. Amber froze. She wiped her palms against her dress and looked back in the direction of the festival. The sound of the woman’s screams had not reached that far, but had been muffled by the celebrations. She should go for help. Amber heard the cry again. It tore through her. She took a deep breath. It sounded as if someone was dying or being killed. That did it. She must stop thinking and find out what was wrong. She picked up her skirts and ran toward the house.
She pulled open the door and peered inside the cottage. The shutters were closed tightly against the sun and fresh air. A single candle flickered on a table beside a bed where a pregnant woman lay moaning. Amber pulled back. There was no doubt it was Molly, the young woman she’d met on her first day at the castle. Beside her knelt Grizel. Tears stained the old woman’s face. She looked up at Amber and brushed away the tears with the back of her hand. “And what be your concern in this place?” Amber averted her gaze from the bed. The old woman was giving her an excuse to run. This was none of her business. She backed toward the door and felt the wood against her spine. More than a year ago, one of her students had tearfully confessed to being pregnant. Amber had convinced herself that she should not become involved with other people’s problems.
Grizel was the same woman Lachlan had saved from a witch’s fiery death. He could have gone along his way, confident that he’d done a good deed, and left the survivors to fend for themselves. But he hadn’t The sixteenth century was supposed to be barbaric in comparison to her own time, yet Lachlan practiced a level of caring that she had only bragged she possessed.
She swallowed. When her student had told her about the pregnancy, Amber had rationalized that she was a teacher, not a counselor. She hadn’t wanted to get involved with their lives, or know what happened to them once they’d left her classroom. But all the girl had asked her to do was come along with her to the abortion clinic. She couldn’t even remember the student’s name. Amber stepped away from the door. “I heard a woman scream, and thought I could help.”
