“Please, Elizabeth,” Moira pleaded. “I don’t understand. You must tell me what is happening!”
The little lady had constructed an impressive fire in the hearth and was stoking it with an iron rod. Moira was sitting on the end of the bed, her bare feet lightly skimming the cold stones of the floor.
Elizabeth turned to her and sat down in a chair by the fire before sighing and rubbing her temples.
“Moira,” she said slowly, “you really don’t remember?”
Moira shook her head with frustration and got to her feet, crossing the room and sitting in the chair opposite Elizabeth so the two women were either side of the fire. The orange glow from the flames shone brightly over both their faces, and Moira was so glad of the warmth as it spread through her chilled bones.
“You and Hamish were so in love,” she began. “And then one day you simply vanished… No one in all of Scotland could find you, and God knows we tried.” She stopped and let out a little laugh of sadness. “Hamish was always the one leading the pack, desperate to track you down, to find out who had taken you and what had become of you… But after years and years, he had to let go… It pained him to do it, it really did, but he is Sir Hamish Kincaid, and he was betrothed to marry another. The Kincaids have always married well to advance their position up here in these parts, and the Lord and Lady would not allow an exception. With you gone, they arranged for Hamish to wed Lady Fraser, much to his annoyance.”
Moira listened with intrigue, although she was certain the story she was hearing had nothing to do with her.
“But now you’ve returned,” Elizabeth said with a wry smile. “And now Hamish will not marry Lady Fraser.”
“Wait,” Moira interjected. “So how long have I been gone?” She believed she was humoring the old woman for information.
“Around three years,” she said, “And Hamish tried to find you… But eventually he had to admit you were never coming back.”
“So he hasn’t already married?” Moira chipped in.
“The wedding was fixed for tomorrow,” she explained. “But now he wants to dissolve the arrangement.”
Moira’s heart started to beat fast. This man, Sir Hamish Kincaid of the Kincaid Clan, wanted to call off his wedding because of her?
“There must be a misunderstanding,” Moira laughed. “I only arrived her from the United Stated yesterday… I went up to Lennox Castle to see where my ancestors had supposedly originated and then I checked into the bread and breakfast… That’s the last I remember.”
Elizabeth’s eyes were wide, but Moira couldn’t tell whether it was from fear or sympathy.
“I better get you something to eat, lassie,” she said as she got to her feet.
When Elizabeth left her alone in the room, Moira went back to the window and looked out across the hills. She couldn’t see anything for miles; the whole landscape was clear and untouched. She hadn’t seen much of Lennoxtown the night before, but she knew it was a developed area with a thriving community. There was a familiarity to where she was, but it was as if the whole town and castle had been cleared overnight and only the tower remained in its place. She looked back across the bleak bedroom. The bed was large and soft with layer upon layer of sheets and woven blankets. The wolf pelt was there in the center, looking even more glossy and new than it had after she cleaned it. The bed was a four-poster with thick, velvet drapes, and the fire in the corner of the room was the only source of light save for one small unlit candle next to the bed. There was no electricity and there was nothing to suggest that Moira was in her own time. Even Elizabeth’s dress and the one she had given to Moira to wear were odd and not of the same world.
The door creaked open and Elizabeth entered with a silver tray holding a whole cooked chicken and a strange cup filled with warm wine.
“Here you go, lassie,” she said as she set it down by the fire. “You need to eat and keep up your strength. You don’t want the Lord and Lady to accuse you of madness.”
The smell of the roast chicken almost sent her into a frenzy, and she descended on the plate as if it were the first time she had ever eaten.
After she finished, she glugged down the wine and relaxed into the chair by the warm fire. She felt instantly rested and revived and ready to hear anything Elizabeth had to tell her. She didn’t want to appear crazy in case it would backfire on her, so she pretended to agree with all that Elizabeth was saying to glean more information.
It was a strange thing, but the more time passed in that bed chamber, the more Moira felt at home. It was as if she had unlocked a secret door in her memory and all of the details were flooding back to her with each passing second. Even Elizabeth was becoming more familiar, and small snippets of memory were working their way back out of her subconscious. She remembered a day when she and Elizabeth went hunting and afterwards Elizabeth had bathed her sore and tired feet by the very same fire. Moira’s heart began to race with the realization that she had been there before and that both Hamish and Elizabeth were part of her past.
“What year is this?” she asked Elizabeth as if it were the most natural question in the world.
“Why it is 1581, my dear,” she smiled warmly. “Don’t tell me that from all your time away you’ve forgotten such important matters.”
Moira felt her blood run cold.
1581.
How could this be? How could she have traveled back in time almost four hundred and fifty years?
She was about to jump to her feet and scream when she heard the drum of footsteps coming hurriedly down the hall. She curled up on the chair and bit her lip as the door flew open and Sir Hamish came inside with a look of panic on his face.
“We have to hide you,” he said quickly. “The Frasers are coming to storm the castle!”