by Gill, Tamara
“What am I going to do? I’ll stick out like a sore thumb. I mean, look at me!” Abby gestured at her clothes. “I think you’ll agree what I’m wearing isn’t appropriate for the period.” The nausea was back and Abby searched for a bucket, anything she could vomit in. Not seeing anything of use, she opened the door and ran out into the claiming dusk, right into a solid mass of muscle.
She stumbled back, this was going to hurt and she’d had about enough of today, but suddenly two large hands wrapped around her arms, saving her dignity and pain.
Abby looked up and up and up some more and felt her mouth open on a sigh. Holy sweet Jesus, who is this?
He stared at her, his gaze narrowed and brow furrowed in disapproval. Abby pushed back a little, bent over, and heaved all over his boots. She distantly heard a curse, but she was beyond caring. Darkness swamped her, and with it came relief. Maybe the heathen Scottish Braveheart holding her had shoved a knife in her heart, putting her out of her misery.
Chapter Three
Aedan MacLeod looked down at the lass asleep in one of the guest chamber beds and cursed. “What the hell do ye think you’re doing, Gwen? You’ve used magic to bring her here? Are ye daft, lass?”
His survival instinct roared to be rid of her and the magic that surrounded her, a beacon for anyone who suspected them of such. The gifts of the MacLeod clan were a blessing and a curse. Should anyone discover their powers, all would be lost, including his head. And he was rather fond of his head exactly where it was. The lass needed to go home, and soon.
“It’ll be fine, Aedan. Ye worry too much. No one will ever find out about her. As soon as she wakes, I’ll explain to her why she’s here, and she’ll understand. I promise she’ll not cause ye any trouble.”
“And what is it that you’ve brought her here for? I’m interested to know myself.” His sister’s inability to meet his gaze made his stomach churn. “Gwendolyn, what has your scheming mind been thinking up?”
She sighed. “She’s perfect for ye. Strong-willed, independent, and alluring.” His sister gestured at the woman. “I thought if you got to know her a little you might form an attachment and have a handfasting ceremony.”
“That’s no reason to risk our lives. I want the truth. Why her, and not a lass from our time?”
Gwen sighed and slumped in a chair. “I know you’ve been showing interest in Aline Grant, and I’ll not have it. Surely, you know of the rumors that follow the lass. That she’s slept with half of Scotland and no doubt, half of England, as well.”
Aedan had heard the rumors. Though with a brother like Evan Grant, a hawk hovering over Aline’s every move, he’d not believed them. But his sister’s dislike of the girl, a disappointment, to be sure, wouldn’t stop him from marrying who he needed to. “She’s chaste. I’m certain of it, or I wouldn’t be considering her.”
His sister met his eyes and compassion flickered in their depths. He grit his teeth, not at all liking when his sister looked at him like that. “Do you not see that this Abigail lass resembles Gail? It’s almost as if she’s been re-born hundreds of years from now.”
He held up his hand, having heard enough. There was no bringing back the woman he’d loved as a lad. A girl who’d grown into a woman who matched him in every way, until a fever in her sixteenth year had taken her life.
Looking down on the lass once more, he studied her. Aye, she was similar, in coloring and looks to Gail, but she wasn’t what his clan needed. “Whoever I choose, sister, whether it is Aline Grant or a lass from an allied clan, she’ll bring our family coin, a good name, and valuable men for our forthcoming battle with Clan O’Cain.”
“Forget the O’Cains. What’s done is done, and you’re no use to any of us dead. And we’re not in need of coin or what Aline could bring to our home. You are not always correct in your path through life, brother. You do not have to sacrifice your future happiness for the safety of your people.”
Aedan rounded on his sister and only just remembered he wasn’t allowed to kill the girl. Of all the idiotic foolery she was talking. “I’ll hear no more of it. My decision is made. And if it hasn’t escaped your notice, dear little sister, we have half of the Highland families bearing down on us right at this moment, for the Highland Games. They’ll be bringing their daughters for me to choose from. This woman could tell everyone of our acquaintance what we’re capable of. What if she wants to go home to her time? What year, pray, is she from?”
“She’s from the twenty-first century. Twenty seventeen, to be precise.”
“Och, you’re mad, lass, and we’re doomed. When she wakes up, you need to send her back immediately.” Aedan ran a hand through his hair and started to pace. “We can’t have her running around the castle grounds screaming about what you’ve done. If the clans hear of this magic, even I cannot save you, or myself, from certain death. You’ll be labeled a witch, and rightfully so.”
Gwen came to stand beside the bed. The woman hadn’t woken. She was as still as death, the only sign she was alive was the small rise and fall of her chest. Aedan tore his gaze from the soft, inviting curves he suspected she housed under her strange garments.
“You know I cannot send her back straight away, so whether ye approve of my actions or not, she is here for a time. I will talk to her and settle her nerves. Please give me some time. Trust me. I’ve never let ye down before.”
Aedan pointed to the woman in the bed. “You’ve let me down now. Fix this.” He stormed from the room and headed toward the main hall where the night’s meal was being served. Gwen’s magic was strong, he knew that, but she’d never acted without such thought before. To bring someone through time, putting the woman and his family in danger from those who would use anything to conquer and lay claim to their home, was beyond him.
The timing couldn’t be worse. With the other clan families due to arrive for the games, their daughters paraded for his perusal, he was loath to have to worry about anything other than the unwanted responsibility of who he should marry and make the future MacLeod bride.
Not that he really desired one. After Gail had passed, such a future had seemed lost. His sister, once married, could produce offspring as well as any other, his home passing to a nephew. A wife might warm his bed, but she’d never warm his heart.
Not to mention that the O’Cains had sent Aedan’s other sister back, half-blind and in disgrace, clearly taunting him to engage in another war. The thought of sweet Jinny being used by his rival made the blood boil in his veins.
The day she’d arrived home, battered, blind, and a figment of who she’d once been had bombarded him with shame. He had truly believed the O’Cains had wished for peace as much as he. How wrong he’d been.
They had used her, bartered her body, while letting her become the clan’s amusement and plaything.
He wouldn’t stand for the insult, and once the Highland Games were over, he’d seek justice for his sibling. Never again would he outstretch his hand in peace toward the O’Cains.
Aedan sat at the dais, away from the rest of his clan, and watched his fellow clansmen eat and boast about the forthcoming revelry. He could find no interest in the night or the delectable wenches who served at the table. If the family secret was revealed, all this would be taken from them. The name MacLeod would be tarnished, forever remembered with distaste. Not to mention, the O’Cains would take advantage of their misfortune and claim his home and lands for themselves.
He couldn’t allow any of his fears to come to pass.
“Trouble, laird?”
Aedan nodded in welcome to his best swordsman, and distant family member, Braxton, as he sat beside him. His clansman ripped into a turkey leg and moaned his delight.
“Aye,” Aedan said. “Of the worst kind. A secret kind. A kind that could get those we love killed. Your betrothed has brought a woman from the future to be my bride.”
Braxton laughed, startling the few people that sat before them to turn and stare.
Aedan glowered. “I
don’t see it as a laughing matter. She could ruin us all. Ye included.”
His clansman tried and failed to rein in his mirth. “Apologies, but does it surprise you? So far, you’ve dismissed all the women paraded before ye. Why, there are bets even now that the women due to arrive with their respective families, will all leave with their respective families.” His friend slapped him on the back. “Face it, old friend, your sister likes to meddle. It is nothing new, and it’s one of the reasons why we both love her. Is it not?”
“Aye, I know, but damn it. I must crush the O’Cains for their treachery. A wife from an allied clan, with a bountiful amount of fighting men, is what I need.” Aedan rubbed his jaw. “Not to mention, the lass she’s brought back is going to stick out like a Saxon wearing a kilt in the Highlands.”
The thought of the woman, the memory of her long legs in the tight trews she’d had on, her ass the perfect size for his hands, made him shift in his seat. Aedan would wager all the gold in his coffers that her skin was softer than a babe’s… He swore, picking up his mug and taking a heady sip. “As soon as Gwen is able, she must return her to the time she belongs.”
“Is the lass comely?”
Groaning, Aedan didn’t meet his friend’s penetrating stare. Damn it. She was comely, more bloody comely than he’d seen for an age. Not that she’d looked overly appealing when she’d vomited on his boots. At least she hadn’t gushed and thrown herself at him, nearly impaling herself on his sword, like so many other lasses. “No. I’ve never seen an uglier wench in my life.”
His friend choked on his mead. “You jest, surely. I can’t imagine Gwen not selecting a woman who would suit your tastes.”
Aedan tore at the bread and scooped up the stew on his plate. “She did. The lass doesn’t suit, and that’s the end of this conversation.”
His sister entered the room and searched out Braxton. She walked toward them, her hands clutched tightly in front of her. Aedan stood, noting the distress darkening her normally serene visage.
“What is it, Gwen?” he asked.
She smiled at Braxton and sat, piling her plate with food from the platter. “Abigail hasn’t woken. I’m scared that grabbing her from her own time has caused her harm.”
Aedan sighed and sat back down. “I’m sure the lass will be fine, Gwen. As for your well-being, that is another matter. Ye are not to use any magic for the foreseeable future. Do ye understand?”
“So ye don’t want me to send her home, then?”
His sister grinned, and he fought to control his temper. She had a serious flirtation with death. “Do not push me, lass. Ye know what I mean.”
Gwen rolled her eyes and commenced eating.
“I’m sure she’ll wake soon, my love. It was probably quite a shock seeing the barbarian brother of yours for the first time. She’ll come around. And ye never know, your plan to see her married to Laird MacLeod may work.”
Aedan stood. “One more word about your ridiculous designs for my wife, and I’ll lock you both up in the dungeon.”
“In the same cell?”
His sister giggled.
“Watch it, Braxton. My gille sharpened my sword today.”
He walked from the room and headed toward his quarters. The tower stairs wound up past two floors before he came to his. He wanted the O’Cain clan burned to the ground before the first snows of winter fell on the Highland peaks. Fighting a clan battle knee deep in snow would kill them and the O’Cains and that was not how he wanted this war to end.
Therefore, he needed a wife, and soon. Wind blew in through the arrow holes in the walls and he shivered, the thought of marriage sending a chill down his spine. Not to mention the now added problem of an inconvenient woman from the future to deal with.
Perhaps he ought to kill her. The risk to those he held dear was immense. No one would miss the woman prone to vomiting on men. No one here knew her at all.
He entered his bedchamber and bolted the door. His bed was turned down already and a roaring fire burned in the grate, casting flickering shadows across the stone walls. The wind howled outside, the drafts seeking entrance through the smallest of cracks. Aedan sat and stared at the golden flames, the heat going some way to warming his core, but it wasn’t enough.
The woman was a threat to their safety that was already in danger from the O’Cains.
He ran a hand over his jaw, itching the stubble that had grown over the last few days. That he would go to war over Jinny was in part his fault. He should have checked on her. Traveled the miles between them and demanded access to her, spoken with her alone to gauge her happiness.
But he hadn’t, and now he must live with the guilt of his mistake for the rest of his life. No wife of his would be treated such. That was one thing he could promise his sisters. It may not be a marriage of love and affection, but it would be one of trust and respect.
He sighed. They had a sennight before the clans arrived for the Highland Games. A sennight in which to either send her home, or at least make her conform to his rules and play the part of a lady until they could send her back.
Gwen would never allow him to kill her. What he really ought to do was kill his frustrating sister. Had she, for once, thought through her actions, none of this would have happened.
Chapter Four
Abigail woke to the smell of wet wood, musty and damp. She leaned up on her elbows and looked around the room. She was no longer in the stone cabin where she’d first met Gwen. Far from it.
The room was square. A narrow window, with glass panels that didn’t quite fit the small diamond frames, looked out to a valley beyond. Wind whistled through the small gaps and she shivered. Although a large fire burned in the grate, the room was cold.
Abby stepped out of bed and cringed at the icy flagstones beneath her feet. She made her way to the fire and stood staring at the hearth. Wood had been stoked to burn for some time and yet, it was the peat, added to increase the flame, that was making the room stink.
She looked around and conceded that for a historical bedroom, it wasn’t so bad. The floor did have animal skins scattered about and the bedding itself had been warm. But the quiet, dark space, without power, or modern bathroom comforts, certainly hammered home the fact she wasn’t in her time.
In her own room, her laptop and cell phone were never far away. Instinctively, she felt for her pockets in her jeans, that she wasn’t wearing. They must have her clothes somewhere, along with her phone. Would it still work? Would they give it back?
Walking over to the small chamber pot that jutted out from under her bed, she noted that the bowl itself was plain, no colors or designs, but the inside was stained.
She cringed at not seeing a toilet, or anything resembling toilet paper, for that matter.
A knock at the door was followed by the muffled sound of Gwen’s voice.
“Come in,” she said, walking back toward the fire to keep as warm as she could.
“Good morning, Abigail. I trust ye slept well and are feeling better this day?”
The woman’s vibrant, expectant visage eradicated what little anger she had left. No more arguing, she just wanted to be sent home. How hard could it be? She had managed to get her here in the first place.
Abby nodded. “I am. Thank you. Although I’m disappointed that I’m still here. When can you return me home?”
Gwen smiled, coming over to her and taking her hands. “As to that, I have news. My brother has agreed, since I’m unable to send ye home right away, that you’re to stay as our guest. In a sennight, we have clans from all over Scotland arriving for the Highland Games. My brother will choose a wife from one of the daughters. We are to make ye a close friend of mine, from a distant family, if ye will.”
Abby bit back the curse that wanted to fly out of her mouth. She took a deep, calming breath instead, and began setting the woman to rights. “I cannot stay another night in this castle. You brought me here, now you have to send me home. I refuse to play your games and pretend I’m
some lofty lady I’m not.” She glared, not allowing herself to react to the girl’s crestfallen visage. What did she expect? For her to be happy here? There was no damn toilet paper in this time. Women could survive almost anywhere and in any time, but without toilet paper, well, that was a whole different scenario.
But that wasn’t all, of course. Her whole life was in another time. Her home, school, friends, the few she had, were not in seventeenth century Scotland. What were they thinking right at this moment? Did they even know she was missing?
“I can’t send you home without risking your life. To move through the time portal again, so soon after you traveled through it, could splinter you physically. I’m sorry, Abigail. I assumed you’d be happy to be here.”
Abby stood. Never had she heard such a stupid thing in her life. “Why would I be happy to be here? I don’t know any of you. You’re strangers to me. Not to mention, there’s no electricity, no running water, no bathrooms, no medicines. Nothing. It’s barbaric. I won’t survive here. Do you even have coffee?”
Panic threatened to choke the air out of her lungs. She started to pace, and for the first time she wondered who had changed her into this long flowing gown. “Who put me in this nightgown?”
“The servant, Betsy, who’s assigned to look after you, dressed ye last eve. Please try and calm down, Abigail. I’m sorry about the situation ye now find yourself in. I know it’s my fault, but it cannot be changed. I suggest, unless ye wish to feel the wrath of my brother, that ye heed his plan. We could all be in danger, if you do not play along.”
Gwen came over to her, a small frown line between her dark blue eyes. Abby noted she was a pretty woman, and obviously too young to be playing around with magic. Magic she’d yet to master. “Wrath of your brother? What will he do to me, burn me at the stake? Hog-tie me behind a horse and drag me through the countryside?”
