The Highlander's Bargain

by Barbara Longley

  “Sleep well, milady.” Beth curtsied and left, shutting the door behind her.

  Feeling utterly lost, she stood in the middle of the room with the nightgown in her hands. What was she doing in this time? Would she ever return to her own? School, her family, friends—she might never see them again. Fighting tears, she laid the nightgown on the bed and began to undress. Her jeans and shirt she placed in the trunk, and thinking better of leaving the twenty-first-century leather jacket on the peg, she took it down and hugged it to her chest. Memories of her day with Robley washed through her. He’d been so happy with the jacket and looking at all the motorcycles.

  “Will I ever again see him that happy?” She swallowed against the tightness in her throat, washed and put on the garment Beth had given her. She crawled into bed, surprised to find how comfortable it was, and burrowed into the down mattress. With a sigh, she let sleep take her far from her worries.

  Erin awoke to the sound of tapping. Disoriented, she opened her eyes a crack and surveyed her surroundings. A shuttered window let sunlight slip in through the cracks, lighting an unfamiliar room with walls of stone. A small hearth held the ashes from the fire that had kept her warm through the night, and the borrowed nightgown she wore had twisted up around her legs.

  It all came back to her in a rush of misery. She groaned, dropped her head back on the pillow and covered her eyes. Another tap sounded against the door. Robley? “Yes?” she called.

  The door opened, and Beth strolled in with a pile of clothing draped over her arm. “Good morn, milady. I’ve brought ye something to wear.” She opened the shutter to reveal a greenish, rippling pane of glass set in a hinged leaden frame. Light flooded in through the narrow window.

  “I’m tae take care of you, just as I did our Lady True when first she arrived. I’m still her maid, but for the time being, I’m tae look after ye as well.”

  This part was said with a great deal of pride, bringing a smile to Erin’s face, despite her disappointment that Rob hadn’t come for her. “I’m grateful. I’d like to bathe if possible.” And she’d also have to visit the garderobe, but she already knew where to find that particular room from the night before.

  “Aye, we have a bathing room, milady.” Beth hung the gown and undergarments on one of the pegs. “Come. Lady True awaits. I’m tae take ye down to the great hall tae break yer fast once yer ready.”

  Beth held a robe for her, and Erin threw back the covers and rose to slip her arms into the soft blue velvet. She tied the cord around her waist. “What time is it?”

  “’Tis almost Terce.”

  She’d heard the hours of the day were measured by the church during this era, but she had no idea what Terce meant. It could be well into the afternoon for all she knew. She followed Beth down the corridor and waited while she checked to make sure the room was free.

  A young boy around nine or ten years old shot out, flashing her a curious look. “There’s plenty of hot water, mum,” he said, bobbing his head before rushing off with buckets in each hand.

  “Come, milady,” Beth called from within.

  The room had a steamy dampness to it and smelled of scented soap. Two narrow windows, also holding glass panes, lit the room. Beth filled one of the two copper tubs from a spigot on the bottom of a tank. The tank had been set into a hearth-like structure with a fire ring underneath. Ingenious. An early version of a water heater. Several buckets were stacked against the wall, along with a folded wooden screen. Benches were set around the room, and on one of them, several earthenware jars sat next to plates holding chunks of soap.

  “Our Lady True has the best recipes for soaps and shampoos. Her concoctions are every bit as good as the milled soaps from France.” She set one of the dishes of soap on a stool next to the tub she’d filled.

  Erin picked it up and took a sniff. It had a floral smell and held bits of whatever plant went into making it. “Thanks.” She unbraided her hair. “Shampoo you said?”

  Beth lifted one of the earthenware jars from the bench and set it next to the soap. “Och, aye. The chandlers make the soaps and shampoos now. They’re two elderly widows in the village. They offer them for sale along with the candles they make, adding quite a bit tae their coffers. ’Tis a good thing. Our Lady True always looks for ways tae improve the lives of those less fortunate. ’Tis one of the reasons we call her nas fíor, true of heart.”

  She poured the last bucketful of water into the tub. “Do ye need help? I’ve set clean cloths right here so ye can dry off.” She gestured to the squares of linen folded on a bench next to her robe and nightgown. “And here’s one tae wash with.” She draped a smaller piece over the edge of the tub.

  “This is great. Thanks.” Erin smiled. Beth was a talker, and she was already fond of the vivacious maid.

  “I’ll go and get things ready for ye in yer chamber then.” Beth crossed the room to the door. “Leave the water and the linens. The lad will take care of them once he returns.” She curtsied and left.

  Thoughts cluttered her mind as she slipped out of the nightgown and stepped into the hot bath. She hated the possibility that she might never hold that midwife certification in her hands. To her, that piece of paper represented so much more than the right to practice. She couldn’t put her finger on what exactly, but the feeling was there anyway.

  A lump formed in her throat as thoughts of her family filled her. Sure, they were a dysfunctional jar of mixed nuts, but they were her mixed nuts—steps, halves, shirttail cousins and her mom, even her dad whom she rarely saw. Boy, did she have a few questions for him. Did he know he had faerie blood? Did he have the same kind of abilities she had? What if she never got home?

  Worse, what if Robley couldn’t find a way to return the pensieve? The thought of him dying caused an ache so deep she could hardly breathe. She needed to see him, needed him to take her into his arms and tell her everything would be all right. Between the two of them, somehow they’d get the pensieve back in time. They had to. Did having a strand or two of faerie DNA carry any weight with those beings? There had to be a way to use her ties with the fae to their advantage.

  She ducked her head under the water, letting the sudden flow of tears merge with the bathwater. There was nothing she could do about anything, and thinking about her own powerlessness would drive her crazy if she let it. She reached for the shampoo, washed and rinsed her hair, and then she finished the rest of her bath quickly. True had been through this whole time travel thing, and if ever Erin needed anyone’s friendship and advice, it was now.

  As she dried off, she made a mental list of things to do. Once she asked True where he was, she’d find Robley. They needed to talk. More than that, she needed to ground herself in the familiarity of his presence. She slipped into the robe and put the soap and shampoo back where they belonged. On the way to the door, she gathered up her borrowed nightgown and headed back to the guest chamber.

  The fire had been stirred back to life, and Beth sat her on a chair next to the radiating heat. She used the linen Erin had wrapped around her head to squeeze out the excess water from her hair, and then she began to comb through the tangles for her. “That feels good,” Erin said, closing her eyes.

  “Och, best leave it down till it dries,” Beth said. “Ye have lovely hair, milady.”

  “So do you.” Erin glanced at her over her shoulder. Beth’s golden hair shone with good health. She had a sweet look about her, and her blue eyes sparkled. Erin imagined how her reenactment club would take to her. “I wish you’d call me Erin.”

  “Mayhap in your chamber, Erin, but ’twould no’ be proper anywhere else in the keep. You’re the young lord’s lady.”

  I am? She swallowed against the sudden constriction in her throat. The need to lay eyes on Rob and assure herself that he was OK overwhelmed her. “I’d really like to get dressed and go downstairs now.”

  “As you wish.” Beth quickly fini
shed combing her hair and fetched the chemise from the peg. She slipped it over Erin’s head. “I’ll personally see tae washing the clothes ye wore last night. Once they’re dry, ye’ll find them back in yon trunk.” Next came the long, sage-green velvet tunic and finally a darker green surcot with gold trim. “’Tis a lovely color for ye, Erin. The gown brings out the green in yer eyes.”

  “Thank you.” What would people think when they saw her leather lace-up hiking boots underneath? She’d be glad she had them once the snow started falling. They were warm and sturdy. “Elaine’s clothes fit well.”

  “Aye, ye are near the same height as Lady Elaine, though a bit thinner,” she said, giving the laces at the sides a final tug before tying them off. “There. Off to the great hall now. Lady True awaits. I ken she had Cook save ye a bit of porridge to break yer fast. Ye must be famished by now.”

  Erin followed her into the passageway. “I don’t suppose there’s coffee?”

  “Coffee?” Beth’s face clouded. “I dinna believe so. I’ve no’ heard of coffee. Is it a kind of grain ye eat where ye come from?”

  “No. It’s a drink made from ground-up roasted coffee beans and boiling water.” Lord, she’d miss her morning caffeine fix, among other things.

  They took the narrow stairs down to the great hall. True sat in a chair next to the fireplace. She had a lap full of baby clothes, and a basket holding sewing gear sat on the ground beside her. She started to get up when she saw Erin.

  “Stay where you are.” Erin waved her back down before turning back to Beth. “Thank you, Beth.”

  “Milady.” She curtsied and took her leave.

  “I saved you some breakfast,” True said, pointing with her chin to a covered bowl on the trestle table.

  “Coffee?” Erin asked hopefully.

  “Afraid not.” True laughed. “I can have Cook bring you rosehip or chamomile tea if you’d like. I never was a coffee drinker, but I can imagine it’s going to be a few weeks before you stop missing the caffeine.”

  Erin took a seat at the table and uncovered the bowl. The smell of honey wafted up from the oatmeal. Picking up the wooden spoon, she glanced at True. “Coming here must’ve been quite an adjustment for you. I have so many questions.” Her stomach rumbled in protest, and she took a few bites of the oatmeal. To her surprise, it was very tasty, though much more coarse than store-bought Quaker Oats.

  “I grew up on my father’s reservation in northern Minnesota near the Canadian border. I’m half Anishinaabe. Growing up in the bush, I was used to roughing it, hunting, trapping and tanning hides with my uncles and aunties. I came here with a skill set that helped a lot.” True put her sewing down. “I imagine the adjustment is going to be more difficult for you. But as far as keeps go, Moigh Hall is as modern as they come. I’m so grateful for the bathing room and glass window panes, you can’t even imagine. We’re slowly putting glass in all of the windows. You’re staying in the same room I did when I first arrived.” True shot her a wry grin. “Only, I mostly hid out there for the first month.”

  “Oh?” Erin’s curiosity was piqued. “If you’re willing to tell me, I really want to hear your story. Rob said you were sent here to save Hunter’s life.”

  “This evening after dinner we’ll talk, but this morning I thought I’d show you around the castle and grounds. I’ll answer any questions you might have. I’ve taken over Hunter’s grandmother’s cottage. It’s located just outside the bailey wall. It’s now my stillroom, and it would be an excellent place for you to work. Rob told us you’re interested in setting up a clinic of sorts.”

  “I am.” She ate a few more bites. “Speaking of Rob, I really need to see him. Can we do the looking around later? He and I need to talk about what we’re going to do. We have to come up with a plan to get the pensieve back from Giselle before that awful faerie returns for him.”

  True pushed herself out of the chair and came to her, placing a hand on Erin’s shoulder. “Erin . . .”

  “What?” In a flash, she knew what True was about to tell her. Disbelief and anger sent adrenaline pulsing through her. Her heart rate took off, and her palms began to sweat.

  “Robley and seven men from our garrison left at dawn. He’s on his way to Inverness to confront Giselle.”

  “Without me?” she cried. “How do I get there?” Her lungs seized. She shot up from the bench, her breakfast forgotten. “How could he leave without letting me know? We have to make a plan together. I’m a part of this mess. What was he thinking?”

  “Welcome to life in 1426.” True grunted. “Your safety comes first, and consideration for your feelings in the matter doesn’t even make it onto the list. Having you along would’ve slowed them down, and worrying about you would’ve distracted Robley. We have criminals in this age just like in the twenty-first century, especially along well-traveled roads like the one to Inverness.”

  “But . . . why didn’t he tell me?” Stricken with this new development, Erin was stung by the betrayal.

  “You would’ve insisted on going with him. He asked us to look after you in his absence.” She gently pushed Erin back to sitting. “We would have done so even if he hadn’t asked, of course.”

  “Any idea when he’s coming back?” She twisted her fingers in her damp hair. “If he comes back at all, that is. What if Giselle does away with him to eliminate being caught red-handed with that stupid pensieve? I should’ve gone with him.”

  “Could you prevent Giselle from harming him if you were there?”

  “Yes!” Her gut twisted. “No.” She recalled the epic fail her last attempt with the pepper spray had been. “I don’t know. I thought maybe my faerie DNA might help.” Once again, reality bit into her with savage force. “There’s really nothing I can do, is there?”

  “No. There really isn’t. I’ve been where you are. We’ll keep busy, and that will help keep your mind off your troubles.”

  Erin’s mouth had gone completely dry. “I need a glass of water.” She rose again. “Point me toward the kitchen.”

  “Unless it’s straight from an underground spring, don’t drink water unless it’s been boiled. We drink mostly tea, ale or watered wine. I’ve made sure the villagers know to boil their water first. It’s really cut down on the cases of dysentery. Finish your breakfast, Erin. I’ll go get some tea. No need to shock the kitchen staff with your presence in their midst, though they’ve been informed we have a guest.” She waddled toward a corridor at the back of the great hall. “You’ll be formally introduced this evening. We’re having a feast to celebrate.”

  Formally introduced? Yikes. Her breath hitched, and once again her heart raced. Erin had never enjoyed being the center of attention, and she avoided it whenever she could. True was right though. Dwelling on her troubles wouldn’t affect the outcome. Distracting herself, she took the time to study her surroundings while she dutifully finished her cereal. The room looked like something out of a book on medieval castle life.

  Colorful tapestries adorned the walls, along with an impressive array of weaponry and shields bearing two distinct crests. She sat at a rough-hewn trestle table with benches on either side, and another similar table took up the dais, only that one had chairs with backs rather than benches. A minstrels’ balcony overlooked the room, and a huge hearth dominated each end. She kept getting smacked between the eyes with reality. This was the fifteenth century. Lord help her, was this century before or after the plague wiped out a third of Europe’s population?

  True reappeared with two earthenware mugs in her hands. She set one in front of Erin and eased herself down on the opposite bench at the table. “Another change I’ve made is the switch to pottery for drinking and serving food. Pewter isn’t safe. The lead leaches into whatever is being consumed.”

  “Do you worry about changing history at all? We’re both bringing knowledge from another time to these people. Are we changing things that shouldn
’t be changed?”

  “Frankly, I don’t care.” True shrugged. “It’s not like either of us chose to be here, and caring about my people supersedes any concerns some anthropologist or archaeologist I’ll never meet might have. If I can help my clan in any way, I’m going to do it. History and the time continuum be damned.” She snorted. “I often wonder what will happen when my twenty-first-century cell phone, laptop and iPod are discovered in these castle ruins in the distant future. What will the scientists make of that?”

  “Good point. I won’t worry about it either then. Rob said you have some knowledge about healing plants. I have nursing and midwifery skills. Between the two of us, we can have quite an impact.”

  “I do have some knowledge about healing herbs. My grandparents were healers for my tribe, and a lot of what they knew has been passed down to me, and my grandmother gave me a book of herbology. Keep in mind these people are very superstitious. A lot of what I’ve accomplished is because I’m married to the earl’s heir. If I say they must wash after using the privy and bathe regularly, Malcolm backs me up. They do it because he says to, not because I do.” One side of her mouth quirked up.

  “Remember to put things in terms they can relate to, like boiling water steams out the bad humors that cause the bloody flux. You start talking about E. coli, Salmonella and other microbes, and they’ll do the sign of the cross and back away.”

  Erin scraped her bowl clean and forced a grin. “I get it. Since there’s nothing I can do about Rob or the fae, I may as well check out the cottage you spoke of.” She rose from her place. “Is it all right if I bring the tea with me?”

  “Sure. I will too. One of the scullery maids will come fetch your bowl.” She labored to rise from the bench. “I don’t even remember what my feet look like anymore or what it feels like to bend at the waist.” Placing her hands at the small of her back, she stretched and rubbed. “Let’s go.”