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?”
“Of course not. We’re not evil villains. And what is ‘hog-tie’? I don’t believe I’ve heard that saying before.”
Abby growled. “Okay. Fine. I understand that I can’t leave…yet. But you must promise that as soon as I can, you’ll allow me to go. How long does it normally take for a person to be able to travel back?”
“I promise as soon as I’m able, I will send you home. And as for the time, I’m not sure.” Gwen looked sheepish, and Abby sighed. “You see, I’ve never brought anyone back through time before. You were the first. I didn’t think it would be a problem, as I assumed you’d stay. My sincerest apologies for the distress I have caused ye, Abigail.”
Abby couldn’t form the words she was dying to yell at the woman. Gwen had never brought anyone back before? Did it mean she might never return home? Or if Gwen tried to return her to her own time, she could end up anywhere, perhaps blown to bits, or floating around space, even? Holy shit!
“Please leave. At this moment in time you’re far from my favorite person.”
“I’m sorry.”
Gwen ran from the room, tears brimming in her eyes. Abby slumped on the bed, the furs creating a false sense of security. How would she survive in this time where disease, malnutrition, and non-hygienic practices were as common as fleas?
She itched her head at the thought. There was no running water and no pharmaceutical medicines—only herbal remedies and prayer. What if she fell ill? Caught some disease she hadn’t been immunized against and died a painfully slow death?
Abby took a calming breath. She wouldn’t be here for long, she reminded herself. They would send her back as soon as it was safe. And she was a tough woman. The past two years had proven that, since the death of her boyfriend David. All she needed to do was stay calm and in control. Maybe she ought to take Gwen’s outstretched hand of friendship and clasp hold of it tight. She would need as many friends as she could get.
A servant entered bearing clothing and helped her get dressed. She looked down at the blue velvet gown with long sleeves that covered her hands when she held them at her side. It was very pretty. Silver stitching ran along the seams in an intricate pattern. All hand sewn. It would have taken forever to make. The workmanship was exquisite.
“I have a missive for ye, miss. The laird wanted me to wait for ye to read it, ask if you’re in agreement, before allowing ye to break yer fast in the great hall.” The servant handed her a piece of coarse paper.
Abby broke the wax seal and started to read.
Abigail,
If you agree to the terms as outlined by my sister Gwendolyn this morn, then please proceed to the great hall and join us in a repast. If you are unable to abide by our decree, you shall be locked in your quarters until you are dissuaded from the foolish course you’ve chosen.
Please give your answer to the servant.
Aedan MacLeod
Abby clenched her jaw, glaring at the words until her eyes crossed.
“What is ye reply, miss?” The servant looked at her with concern, but Abby knew she’d not stand a chance of getting past the woman should she go against the laird’s decree.
“I’m in agreement with the laird,” she said.
The servant smiled in relief. “Very good, miss.” Stepping aside to let her pass, she continued. “Laird MacLeod is waiting for ye.”
Nodding, but with no intention of eating with any of them, Abby slipped on shoes made of rawhide, held on by a tie that zigzagged across the dorsal of her foot, and walked from the room . They were rather comfortable.
The tower staircase was steep and long, coming out into a corridor that housed the front double doors. Abby headed straight for them, needing to get outside and away from this castle.
The storm that had passed through overnight was lessening. In between the clouds blue sky peeked through, teasing them with better weather. Abby studied the courtyard that looked out over the Isle of Skye. People milled about. Some carried food from the few vegetable gardens she could see, others worked with horses or hauled water from the well, an array of activities that reminded her of stories she’d read in history books.
Shaking her head, she struggled to comprehend what was happening to her. Shouts from the front of the castle caught her attention, and she headed that way. She walked over a bridge that covered a small, slow flowing creek and saw the endless, lush forests that encased the castle like a cocoon. She turned and looked back at the castle itself, so different from the one that stood in the twenty-first century. There must have been numerous alterations and additions through the years.
A couple of guards with swords walked the castle perimeter. They looked at her, men who had seen death, caused death, and would likely take life without a moment’s hesitation. Hardened soldiers who didn’t take fools lightly.
Abby quickened her steps away from them and headed along a rough riding track. There were some outlying cottages scattered about the forest and shoreline, and people tended to pigs and goats that were housed in small wooden yards.
Fear crept along her spine that this could be her future. How would she ever survive living in this time? Although she had no family back in the twenty-first century, she did have friends, even if no longer close. Her own fault, after pushing them all away, cocooning herself in grief after David’s death. But that didn’t mean she wanted to walk away from her life and her twenty-first century comforts, most of all.
She may not have a lot of money and she may have to work for a living, but it was her life, and to have it snatched away wasn’t right.
Anger replaced her fear, and she stopped walking. The sound of thumping hooves sounded behind her, and she turned to see Laird MacLeod riding hard toward her.
She hadn’t been able to get a very good look at him when she’d vomited on his feet. All of her memories after that were hazy at best. But whoa. She doubted she’d forget him ever again.
Large, muscular arms urged the horse forward. His legs, his very bare legs, beneath a kilt that was doing anything but sitting down about his knees, flexed and held him astride his horse.
Abby’s mouth dried up like the Sahara desert. Probably didn’t help that her mouth was hanging open and tapping the ground. She closed it with a snap and stepped off the road a little in case he decided to run her over and be rid of her for good. The thunderous glare he was bestowing on her only supported that theory.
I’m dead meat.
The horse skidded to a stop, and he slid off in one fluid movement. He towered over her, making her kink her neck to meet his gaze. He was angry, the thumping of the vein near his temple proof of that, but a flicker of something else briefly passed in his gaze. Was he worried about her? Highly doubtful. He didn’t even know her.
Abby pushed the thought aside and studied him instead. His shoulders were massive, built for sword fighting. A cloth looped over one shoulder and obscured part of his tunic covered chest. He was bronze-skinned, and the large muscles of his chest flexed with each breath. She bit her lip, not sure what to make of him other than the fact he was unbelievably hot.
Laird MacLeod stood with his legs apart, as if the package between them wouldn’t allow anything less. He cleared his throat, and her gaze snapped to his face. Heat bloomed on her neck and across her cheeks. She should have looked away and immediately chastised herself for not doing so. For to look at him was to fall into sin in the most delicious way she could imagine.
He had a strong jaw with a day’s growth of beard, a succulent mouth that begged to be nipped and kissed. Her hand itched to feel and stroke his wavy shoulder-length hair. Was it as soft as it looked? The fact he smelled of pine and clean soap wasn’t missed, either.
But it was his eyes that again made this world spin for her. They were, without doubt, the most beautiful green eyes she’d ever seen. Dark as the heather that grew wild around their feet.
Damn it.
“What do ye think you’re doing walking out the gates alone? Are ye daft, woman? A simpleton?”
She started at his words, not expecting such a harsh beginning to their conversation. “I beg your pardon. I’m none of those things. I wanted to go for a walk. To clear my head. Is that a crime?” Abby unclenched her hands at her side and made an effort to control her temper, which on occasion, had been unleashed on rude people like this barbaric Scottish ass.
“Scotland is not safe for a woman who isn’t well-versed in current situations that encompass our land. Were you headed for the woods? Do ye have a death wish, lass?”
Abby pushed past him and strode toward the forest. How dare they pull her through time and then be all high-handed with her. She gasped when a large hand circled her upper arm and turned her about. She glared up at him, wishing she was a little taller so she could look him in the eye when she gave him what-for. Her hand burned against his chest, and she shoved him away, not liking the way her stomach clenched when she touched him.
“If I do, it’s your sister’s fault for bringing me here, and to marry you, no less.”
“I’m only concerned for your safety. You were supposed to come down to break ye fast, not run away.”
“I’m in front of your castle, and I didn’t see the point of eating when I’m not hungry. Why can’t I walk out here? Are you annoyed because I didn’t join you for breakfast?” She didn’t think he was, but still, Abby didn’t really know what to think anymore. This whole situation was bizarre.
“Nay, Betsy told me you agreed to our terms, but when Braxton notified me of ye walking outside the castle grounds, I thought to check on ye.”
“Well, I’m fine, as you can see. Is it always going to be this way while I’m here? Is this time that bad that I can’t step a few hundred yards from the castle without being rounded up like a sheep?” He looked down at her as if she’d said the stupidest thing he’d ever heard.
“Women in this time are not always respected. I’ll let ye decide as to what that means.”
A cold shiver ran down her spine, and she looked into the darkened forest beyond, wondering who lay in wait for women, or anyone, she supposed, to use for their nefarious means. “I was only going to walk along the forest’s edge. I wasn’t going to enter into it.”
“It makes no difference. Ye should not pass the bridge beyond the castle itself.”
His words brooked no argument, and she narrowed her eyes at his tone. “I don’t know if it’s escaped your notice, but I’m a big girl, and I’m not stupid. I can take care of myself.” She hoped. Although, if the men lying in wait for women were even half the size of the one before her, Abby wasn’t all that confident she could save herself.
“Really?” One eyebrow cocked up. “Do explain.”
Not that he would understand… “I’ve taken self-defense classes. I’ve learned how to fight.” She kept the confession that she’d yet to use her abilities in such a way, but still, under pressure, surely they’d come to the fore and save her ass.
“It is doubtful any fighting lessons you’ve been taught would save you from a knife to the throat before you’re even aware yer foe’s behind ye.”
Abby swallowed, not liking the sound of that at all, or the fact he was probably right.
“Or an arrow strike to yer head.”
“Are you trying to scare me? Why would you say such awful things?”
He shook his head, sighing. “Because I’d rather send ye home alive, than bury ye here. That’s if we ever found yer body, of course.”
“So where can I go that’s safe? Surely, I’m not going to be stuck inside the castle permanently.” The thought of having no sunshine, no fresh air away from the peat smoke or the smell of unwashed bodies, made her cringe.
“If you stay to the front of the castle you’ll be safe enough. I have guards permanently stationed in that area, along with the castle servants who tend to the gardens and crops. I will have a servant accompany ye at all times to be safe.”
“With all the guards around, like you said, I should be fine. I don’t need a guard.”
He crossed his arms. “Ye will do as you’re told.”
“You said I should be fine in that part of the grounds. I don’t need a guard. I’m not royalty.” Would this man listen?
“I will not repeat myself. You will do as I say.” He made a growling noise, clasping his horse’s reins, the conversation apparently over. “I don’t know what my sister was thinking bringing ye here.”
“Neither do I. Like any normal, sane person would want to travel from the luxuries of life in the twenty-first century to this hard, dirty, seventeenth century Scotland. If you think I’m any happier about this situation, you’re wrong.” Abby’s hands shook as adrenaline started to pump through her veins. Oh, the audacity of the man. “You’re an overbearing brute who I’d never consider marrying.”
“I don’t believe I ever offered.”
“And I’d never want you to. And it’s no secret that I don’t want to fall in line with your little plan to act as a lady, either, but to save your ass and keep a roof over my head, I will. So, if I have to compromise on this, you can compromise about me having a guard.”
He bared his teeth and she stepped back, not liking the savage look in his eye. “Verra well. I’ll give ye that one wish, but be warned, I don’t want ye this side of the castle. I may not get to ye in time, if ye disobey me.”
Abby nodded, satisfied with this small victory. “We have a deal.” She held out her hand for him to shake. He looked at it and did nothing.
“You will learn to fall in with my plans, lass, or I’ll walk you into that forest that you’re so fond of and remove you from this earth myself.”
The murderous glint in his eye said he would do as he stated should she push him too far. Anger thrummed through every pore of her body. In this case, she would have to succumb to him. She would allow the brute to win this battle, but he wouldn’t win the war. And if he wanted a sweet, delightful lady who would compliment his guests, he had another thing coming.
“I said I would. I’ll fall in line, like all your little soldier men, but if you think for one moment that I’m enjoying myself, or that I’ll go out of my way to please you and your guests, you can think again. I’d rather eat Haggis.” Abby stormed back toward the castle and left the overbearing Scot behind her. She kicked up some dirt and one of the delicate shoes ripped. She rolled her eyes. Typical.
The thought of having to sit beside him at meals and play the lady irked her. This wasn’t her time. To be kind to people who pulled her through time for their own nefarious means was wrong.