by Pam Binder
Amber reached over and felt the other side of the bed. It still held the warmth of Lachlan’s body. She stretched and wrapped her arms around her waist as she snuggled under the layers of blankets. Looking at the empty tray on the table she smiled. The oranges were gone. The warm chocolate was devoured. She felt a little like that herself.
The faint sound of metal clanking against metal drifted through the open window. Lachlan must be on the training field. Again. Maybe he was no different from anyone else who owned a castle, and was responsible for the lives of hundreds of people. Still, she wished he didn’t like it so much.
She sat up, pulled the blankets around her and examined her options for the day. Amber knew what she would like to do, but Lachlan was too busy playing war games. And since her first choice, kidnapping him to a deserted island paradise without his sword, was not possible, she’d go for plan B. Gavin was down in the courtyard watching the men. Pulling the boy away for a lesson would be like rerouting the Columbia River. So much for plan B. So, she could ask Una to show her how to pluck a chicken or milk a cow. Amber looked outside. Too late for cow milking, thank goodness. Of course, she could always ask someone to show her how to weave a tapestry. On second thought, maybe she’d just go for a walk. This time she’d bring a book.
She slid off the bed. Through the adjoining door she saw the tub was filled with steaming water. A bath had been fun the first half dozen times. However, a steady dose of sitting in suds, while not feeling as though you’d rinsed off all the soap, was losing its appeal. Amber sighed loudly. She would have to figure out how to rig a shower from the rain barrels she’d seen on top of the castle. But first she would take that walk.
A soft knock ended her solitude.
“Come in.”
The door creaked open and Gavin poked his head in. “Before the evening meal, we are to visit my mother. And please wear the color blue, my mother favors it.”
The words were spoken as a command, but his voice trembled. Its tone tugged at Amber’s heart. It was impossible for her to say no. She nodded, and before she’d finished the gesture, he was gone. She shivered, remembering the last time she’d seen Diedra. An uneasiness started in the pit of her stomach.
Amber sat on a large rock near the shore as the waters of Loch Ness reflected the clear late morning sky. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply of the crisp air. If her friends in Seattle caught a glimpse of her sitting and doing nothing except watching a flock of geese fly overhead, they’d think she had the flu. She propped her head on her hands. Waves lapped gently against the rocks. The white foam looked like the meringue on her aunt’s lemon pie. She’d never realized that before. More to the point, she’d never taken the time to observe life around her.
Smiling, her thoughts strayed to last night and early this morning. As each day passed, her life here was more real, and the one in the twentieth century more like a dream. Her aunt was right; Amber had jammed her life with things to do in order to avoid facing her loneliness. She thought that if her schedule were full, she would be happy. But she’d never made a connection to anyone. Her relationships were all on the surface. Like the waters of Loch Ness, she hid the mysteries of her soul under a calm exterior. Lachlan alone had taken the time to look further.
A soft breeze blew gently through her hair. She turned in the direction of the refreshing wind and saw O’Donnell seated farther along the shore. Sheets of paper, spread over a flat board, were balanced on his knees. His smile was welcoming and he motioned for her to join him.
He had a friendly, uncomplicated face. She liked him and hoped he and Marcail had worked out their differences. He might even manage to soften Marcail’s serious nature. Amber shook her head. She was becoming just like her aunt, a matchmaker.
She looked with interest at O’Donnell’s drawings. In die corner of the page the face of a woman was sketched in charcoal from different angles. She had a variety of expressions. In the center he had created a picture with the shores of the loch in the background, and a woman as the focal point.
“You’re an artist.”
He grinned. “Not as yet, but I keep working toward that end. If you do not recognize the person I have drawn, I have many years of work ahead.”
Amber glanced at it more closely. “It looks like me.”
He smiled. “I am satisfied I captured your expressions, but I cannot seem to get what you are wearing correct. It is almost as though you should be dressed in a different way.”
Amber felt uneasy. O’Donnell was too observant. She still felt uncomfortable in the clothes she wore. If she were going to feel as though she belonged here, she would have to reconcile herself to everything about this century, including the clothes. He was staring at her, clearly waiting for an explanation of some kind. The truth was always best.
I'll tell you a secret. This long dress is driving me crazy. I’d like to be wearing something shorter.“
He laughed. “I agree. The men in the Highlands show off their great hairy legs, but cover their women from head to toe. Maybe you can start a new fashion.”
“I’d probably be burned at the stake.” She forced a smile thinking that was a real possibility if they found out she was from the future.
MacDougal, with Gavin close behind, raced past her and down to the shore. The dog leaped into the water after the stick Gavin threw for him.
Lachlan followed at a leisurely stroll as though he hadn’t a care in the world. The sun seemed to shine brighter as he came closer. She stole a peek at the sky. No change. It was her overactive, imagination giving him the ability to change the course of the weather. She thought of last night. Okay, so it might be possible.
He smiled and knelt down beside her. He was so close his leg brushed against her and the contact warmed her.
“Beware of O’Donnell. He has broken many a heart.”
“And how many have you broken?”
He put his hand over his chest. “You wound me as deep as any sword.”
O’Donnell’s laughter startled the wolfhound. The animal barked with a mouthful of water.
Amber shook her head. “Men. You are all alike. A woman wants honesty, not flowery speeches.”
O’Donnell frowned. “And I thought it was the other way around. Perhaps that is why the Lady Marcail will not speak to me.”
Lachlan’s voice sounded tense. “You two are to be wed. What has happened?”
“There was the small matter of her finding me in bed with another woman.”
“ ‘Twas a long time ago. Explain to Lady Marcail that the woman meant nothing to you.”
“I did.”
Lachlan raised one eyebrow. “And?”
O’Donnell shook his head.
Amber straightened. “Married? You just met. And what about this other woman?”
Lachlan and O’Donnell both looked at her with the same blank, male expression. It spoke volumes. Amber laced her fingers together in her lap. “What other woman?”
Both men answered together. “ ‘Tis over.”
“I was talking to O’Donnell.”
“It was over a long time ago.” O’Donnell fingered the piece of charcoal in his hand. “It is not something of which I am proud. I turned to this other woman because Lady Marcail and I were getting too close.”
Amber patted him. “Did you tell this to Marcail?”
The lines of concern creased his forehead. “I did not think she would believe me.”
“She’ll believe you, if it’s the truth. Forgiveness is another matter and might take some time.”
“The lady is worth the wait.” O’Donnell stared at the loch.
Silence hung in the air, interrupted only by the wind through the branches. At that moment Amber had no doubt O’Donnell would spend a lifetime waiting for the woman he loved.
O’Donnell nodded toward her. “Indeed, I see that the legend has come true. The Lady Amber is wise beyond her years.”
Lachlan’s expression was unreadable. “It is a coinci
dence, nothing more.”
“Perhaps not.”
Amber tucked her legs under her dress. “What legend?”
The ever-present breeze that blew off the water seemed to quiet. The air grew still. Only the lapping of the waves against the rocks remained constant. O’Donnell stood as if giving a speech before an assembly. He raised his arm and pointed toward Loch Ness.
Amber covered her mouth with a hand to keep from laughing. She leaned against Lachlan, who circled her waist with his arm and drew her closer. She loved stories and it looked as though O’Donnell was building toward a great one.
“There is a legend that dates back to the ah…” He lowered his arm and turned to Lachlan. “When did it originate?”
“It matters not. ‘Tis your tale, O’Donnell. Would it matter to you if I asked you not to tell it?”
“Not in the least.”
“I thought as much.”
Amber nudged Lachlan. “Be quiet. I’m interested.”
He pulled her onto his lap and whispered in her ear. “Is there nothing I can do that will cause you to lose interest in O’Donnell’s telling of this tale?”
His breath was warm and sent shivers over her skin. “Hold that thought.”
O’Donnell cleared his throat. “Be still.” He raised his arm with a flourish, once again pointing toward Loch Ness and the heather-covered mountains that framed the shore.
Through the mist-shrouded waters of an enchanted sea,
the Guardian will be summoned.
The seasons will alter their natural course.
The barriers of time will be broken.
And a woman, with hair of burnished gold, will be pulled from the depths of Loch Ness.
It is she who will bring the knowledge and the courage of generations yet unborn.
And a wisdom that will guide the chosen one out of his darkness.
But the waters will reclaim her once again, if, after the passage of one full moon,
the immortal she was sent to heal accepts not the power of Eternal Love.
Amber felt the hair rise on the back of her neck. She did not need a castle to fall on her to recognize the similarities. But the verse sent shivers up her spine. She’d been in the sixteenth century for over three weeks. That meant there was one week left.
O'Donnell addressed Lachlan. “The Lady Amber looks a little bewildered. Would you like to explain it to her?”
“Nay, I would not.” Lachlan set Amber off his lap, stood and reached for her hand. “It cannot be explained as there is nothing of substance to it. It is naught but a legend. The Highlands are thick with them.”
Amber put her hand in his and let him pull her to her feet. True, her aunt used to tell her stories about a race of woodland folk who didn’t share the same laws of mortality as humans. But Lachlan had grown serious. It took her a moment to appreciate that it was exactly the same reaction he’d had at the Punch-and-Judy show at the festival in Inverness.
Amber held Gavin’s hand and let him guide her down the dimly lit hallway to his mother’s room. She was thankful the boy was not in a talking mood, as her thoughts remained with the legend O’Donnell had told, and with Lachlan’s reaction.
Gavin squeezed her hand. “Thank you for wearing blue. It is my mother’s favorite color.”
“I was glad to do it.” Her heart ached for him. He was desperate for everything to be perfect.
He paused. “Sometimes my mother acts as though she does not like to have visitors.”
“Don’t worry. My mother’s the same.” Amber could see the lines of concern cross his face. It was important to him that she and his mother get along. She ruffled the curls on his head. “I thought my mother cared more about digging up old bones in ancient ruins than she did for my brother and me. Then one day I found a chest stuffed with things we had made for her over the years. Some people just don’t know how to express their love.”
Gavin nodded and led Amber into the room.
War shields and swords hung on the walls that were covered in red silk. A portrait of a woman in a suit of armor hung over the mantel. In the center of the room was one of the largest beds Amber had ever seen. Under piles of covers and furs Diedra lay sleeping. Her hands, the knuckles knotted with age, clutched the blankets under her chin.
Gavin tugged on her arm. “That is my mother.”
Before Amber could answer, he released her hand and ran to the bed. He bent down to kiss his mother on the forehead. She opened her eyes and he whispered something in her ear. A flicker of a smile crossed her face as she looked toward the foot of the bed. He ran to a trunk, opened it, and began rummaging inside.
Amber felt a twinge of regret as she watched the interchange between mother and son. Her relationship with her parents was one of polite formality. Children were to be seen and not heard. No running in the house, no loud or sudden noise, no eating between meals. The list went on into infinity. She was glad Gavin had a different experience. There was warmth between these two which she had not expected.
Diedra turned and the candlelight illuminated her gaunt features. Amber drew back suddenly shocked.
It had not struck her at their first meeting, but Diedra was far too old to be the mother of an eight year old.
“Gavin has discovered a love of books, I have you to thank, and I am grateful. He also takes great delight looking through the weapons and armor I have collected in my travels. The two worlds can coexist, but it is a hard journey. Come, sit beside me.”
Amber felt uneasy. Diedra’s body might be shriveled with age, but her eyes were clear and her voice steady and vibrant. For some reason the contrast frightened Amber. She folded her hands as she sat down, trying to keep the tremors out of her voice.
“Is that a picture of you, over the fireplace?”
Diedra’s expression darkened. “At that time I believed I could be happy only on a battlefield.” Tears brimmed in her eyes. “Even after my children were born, fighting consumed my life. It was not until Subedei murdered my husband and children that I realized how much of their lives I had missed. But it was too late. I do not know how to talk to my own children.”
Amber put her hand over the woman’s cold fingers. Diedra was confiding in her, but then, sometimes it was easier to tell a stranger your innermost thoughts and fears.
Gavin discarded shields, daggers, and an ax to the floor, as well as an assortment of dented and broken pieces of armor. He reached for a tunic of chain mail, pulled it on and then abandoned it as he resumed his exploration of the trunk. It struck Amber that he was at ease in this room. At times small children sensed what adults missed.
“Your children know you love them.”
Diedra’s gaze was intense. “The Guardian chose wisely.”
An image of the carving Lachlan had been working on came into vivid focus. Surely the two could not be connected.
“Lachlan saved me from drowning, that was all.”
“There is more to it, my child, and from the look in your eyes you know it as well. But perhaps in your time… but we shall speak of it no more. I grow weary, and there is something more I wish to tell you. My son believes I am too consumed by the path my life has taken to be aware of others.” She reached over to touch Amber’s face.
“There are days when he is right. I believed if I showed my children a mother’s love it would make them weak and vulnerable. I wanted them to be strong. They need to be strong. There are many dark days ahead for them. And I see strength in you. But to help my children, you will need to know the reason the gods have brought you here.” Her sigh was little more than a whisper.
“The” Lady Marcail summoned the Guardian. It is she who will speak to you. There is fear in your eyes, but it will pass. If the love you have for Lachlan is strong enough, all will be well.“
Diedra’s words hung in the air as she slowly closed her eyes. The room plunged into a silence so deep it rang in Amber’s ears. Diedra knew Amber had traveled back to the sixteenth century. In fact t
hat was probably what Lachlan’s mother was trying to tell her the day she’d been shown Ford’s grave.
Gavin shut the lid to the chest. Amber jumped at the sound and tried to calm her frayed nerves. After getting her young charge settled for the night, she intended to find Marcail.
The boy touched her shoulder. His smile was so wide his dimples showed. In the palm of his hand he held a small wood carving of a wolfhound.
“I made it myself.” He placed the small object carefully on the table next to his mother’s bed.
She knew what it meant. Diedra’s trunk was filled with treasures from her life and amongst the memories was something that Gavin had made for her. Amber pulled him close and gathered him into her arms.
Shadows crept over the hallway leading to her chamber as Amber turned the corner. It had been a long day. There hadn’t been time to talk to Marcail. Gavin’s visit with his mother had ended happily, but he’d clung to Amber, reliving each moment. After the evening meal, she’d read him stories from Canterbury Tales, but the entire time she was reading to Gavin, she kept going over her conversation with Diedra. Her parents had taught her that occasionally things happened which the laws of science couldn’t explain. The most successful scientists were those who didn’t close their minds.
Something had pulled her four hundred years into the past. There were myths surrounding the Loch Ness monster that dated back to the time of the Celts. The creature was a phenomena that had never been fully explained away.
Amber tried to ignore the trembling in her body and thought of the book Jane Eyre. Castles and madwomen were a natural fit. She didn’t think Diedra was crazy, but the woman was far from normal. However, Lachlan’s mother didn’t strike Amber as the type to make idle claims. The Nessie theory was gaining credence.
She wished she hadn’t left the book in Gavin’s room. At least the majority of those stories were funny. She needed a laugh. Maybe jumping into bed with Lachlan had not been a good idea, but she couldn’t get him out of her thoughts, and wondered if he felt the same. Amber didn’t get the impression he was the love-em-and-leave-em type like other men she’d known. But Lachlan was a laird, a nobleman, and they had their own set of rules which did not take into account anyone else’s feelings but their own.
