Chapter 3
It’s the only warning I get before he practically tosses me up onto the horse. I hear the tear before I can stop it. The slit that ran up my right leg now extends up my thigh. Thank goodness for Angus’s plaid.
As I try to adjust myself while not falling to my death, Angus swings up behind me. Nothing but the wool of the plaid and his kilt separates us. His nearness distracts me from the overwhelming fear of falling and breaking my neck. I’m aware of the smell of the horse, the coarse hair of its mane between my fingers, but mostly I’m aware of Angus’s arm around my waist.
“Have you kin?” Angus asks.
I feel his arm tense and his fingers grip my waist. Very much aware of the hard saddle beneath me and the hair of his legs against my skin, I’ve lost the power of speech. He turns his head to address me again.
“Katherine, have you any kin? A husband?”
I can’t seem to unscramble the words from my brain.
You have a damn Master’s degree in English, Kate. Snap out of it!
“No. I’m alone now,” I say under my breath as I turn away to look over the green hills. I bite my lip to keep from crying again, afraid that if I start, I’ll never stop.
His beard brushes my hair as he gathers me closer and whispers something in Gaelic. It’s lovely. I don’t understand this man and I shake my head and sigh. He reminds me of Crathes and the land upon which it’s built—strong and rugged, yet lovely. I should be frightened, but oddly enough I’ve never felt safer. I feel as though we’ve been together before. Like this is fated. Safe enough that I close my eyes as I sway in the saddle.
~ ~ ~
I must have been more tired than I thought because when I open my eyes, I wake in a soft bed.
A warm smile and cheery green eyes greet me.
“Och, there ye are. My name is Mary. Ye slept well. Didn’t even wake when Angus carried ye to his room,” she remarks as she bustles about the room, returning to my side with a bowl and spoon.
“You poor dear. Now, I’ve some broth and wine for ye. Come sit up and I’ll feed ye.” With that she slips her arms around me and lifts me to a seated position. She puts the spoon with broth to my mouth, and I drink it much like a child would be when fed by its mother.
While she feeds me she explains, “When Duncan went missing, we were all so worried. The laird was out of his mind with grief. Angus didn’t take long to find you and Duncan though, and a good thing he did for those thieving Murrays were trying to abscond with the boy.”
“Ye poor dear, ye were verra brave to save Master MacGregor after the terrible ordeal ye survived.” She tsks and feeds me more broth.
Terrible ordeal? How does she know? I still haven’t said a word when there’s a knock at the door.
Duncan peeks his head around it. “Mistress, yer awake. It’s good to see yer feelin’ better. I was scared you’d never wake.”
“Duncan, come along now and let the poor woman rest. This is no place for a little boy.”
He pouts and pulls himself up straighter. “Mary, I’m nay so little. I’m nine years old now. Old enough to be laird of this castle.”
Quite proud of himself, he comes to sit on the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry for your family. Angus said you’ve no kin. You’ll stay with us then.”
“We’ll take care of ye dear.” Mary’s smile is warm and genuine, and I like her immediately. “Go on now, shoo,” Mary says as she ushers Duncan from the room.
“Fine, but I’ll be back,” Duncan says and smiles as he lopes off singing a song of my name as he trots out the door.
“Dinna mind him. He’s a good boy, got his father’s face and his mother’s kind heart. I’ll let ye rest a bit.”
She gathers the soup and leaves me bread and wine. I lie back against the soft, cool bedding and listen to the rhythm of the castle. The sounds of horses and swords clashing are not familiar sounds, not those of my home. Despite the strangeness of my surroundings, with a belly full of broth and nestled in the comfortable bed, I let blessed sleep take me.
My eyes protest against the sunlight streaming into the room. Still low in the sky, I think it must be morning but I don’t know for sure. The quiet is lovely. It’s like being at the library. I don’t hear the usual sounds of the city. No horns honking, no sirens shrieking. In my apartment in the city, I sleep with my window open a crack. I like the sounds of the city. Here, in this place, I find myself oddly at ease. I’m usually up early; I would have been to the gym and checked my phone and all social media by now. I can’t remember a time that I didn’t have a phone in my hand. There are no modern conveniences in the room. No lamps or light switches on the walls. No television or docking station for a phone. Just this large bed made of dark wood and books. I stretch and take stock of my body and then of my situation. I turn to my side and face the open window.
Tiny dust motes like sparkling stars dance in the air as the sunlight catches them. The air itself is still as crisp as I remember, but now there’s a note of something more. Lavender, I think. I turn my face into the pillow and breathe in. Yes, it’s definitely lavender. It’s a lovely fragrance. The linens don’t smell of fabric softener or starch. I may as well have awoken in a field. Lavender and man. There’s nothing feminine about this bed or this room.
It’s a sparsely decorated room containing only essentials. The gigantic poster bed I lie in takes up the majority of the space. I lean to look over the side. I would need a step to get into it. The rugs covering much of the stone floor are a beautiful crimson and taupe design. A large dark wood armoire stands against the far wall, and there is one small side table next to the bed with an oil lamp on it. Burnt low as if the owner spent time reading in bed. Blinking in the beautiful sunlight and continuing my perusal of the room, I have more questions than answers, but I’m thankful that I’ve come to meet the kindness of the MacGregor clan. Looking up, I can see the massive wood beams that cross the ceiling. With a lone window for light, I hop down from the bed like a child and cross to admire the landscape. Green fields, woods and a lake in the distance, my fingers trace the stone lintel. Though my brain tries to reject my reality, I can’t argue with the hard stone beneath my feet and hands.
I look down at the courtyard. Women are dressed in long, rough-hewn gowns the colors blend with the landscape. Some blue and crimson interspersed among the green and brown. The men wear trousers with leather belts, and some wear kilts. I can see their cool breath mingling with the morning air. There are no skyscrapers, nobody carrying phones or cups of coffee. Lanterns are being doused and horses are being fed. People are chatting and laughing. Leaning out of the window, I peek around the corner and see a vine with little white flowers on it.
It’s just far enough to be out of my reach, but the scent is carried to me along the slight breeze, and as I close my eyes and savor a dream from which I’m sure to awaken, the door opens and Mary enters along with a bevy of other women.
Dresses and ribbons are laid at the end of the bed. Others enter with an assortment of linens and nightgowns, shoes and stockings. I watch the women fill a large copper tub with wooden buckets of steaming water while others bring in beautiful bottles and jars. Mary opens each and sniffs. When she finally choses the one she wants, she adds a little to the water. Once the last bucket is dumped into the tub, Mary closes the door and stands in front of me.
“Come, lass. Let’s get you in the tub while it’s still hot.” She reaches for me, but I step back.
“I can do it myself,” I say a little too sharp.
“Tch. Nonsense. A lady doesna dress herself.” Mary’s brows furrow and I make no further protests.
“Dammnnn,” I hiss under my breath and Mary gives me the eye.
“Come lass. I havena all day to dally with ye. There’s much to do yet.”
The massive copper tub is like nothing I’ve ever seen.
“This tub is huge, Mary. You could fit a soccer team in here.” I laugh as my body adjusts to the heat.
“I dinna ken about yer soccer team lass but it’s made big enough for Angus, that’s for certain.” Mary smiles as she begins her ministrations.
“This is Angus’s tub,” I say aloud.
“This is his room, lass. He carried ye here, don’t ye remember?” Mary asks.
“No, not really,” I respond.
“He seems verra protective of ye.”
“Protective, of me? How so?” I can’t fathom of why she’d say that.
“He carried you and didna allow anyone else to. Then he put you in his room when there are many other available rooms in the castle,” she states matter-of-factly.
“Well, I’m very grateful for his kindness and the hospitality of the MacGregor’s.” I don’t want to think too much about being in his arms, or his bed.
Sitting back, I close my eyes and inhale the lovely scent. “Now I’m going to put some salve on your wounds. Ye look like you’ve been playing in the brush,” Mary says. She laughs to herself as she applies some of the cool paste to my face.
She finishes her application and puts the jar back on the table. Between the scented water and the herbs she’s applied to my cuts, I feel a little better. It’s like being at a medieval spa. I can’t remember the last time that I took a bath. Everything in life is always so rushed, so scheduled. I shower, dress, and go. There’s no time for pampering unless I book an appointment.
“Let’s get ye ready for hall. We’ll feed ye and you’ll feel much better. The laird and mistress MacGregor are wanting to thank ye for saving young Duncan.” Mary’s lilting accent and soft voice is like a Lakmé aria. The light sweetness fills the room, and I am instantly at ease.
There’s really no way around her. Mary’s a force of nature. She reminds me of Maddy. Quick, efficient, and strong-willed. I wonder if I’ll ever see my friend again.
Getting dressed is an involved process. I’m dressed in more layers than I’ve ever worn, but the fabric is so soft and light it doesn’t feel as cumbersome as I expect.
“Oh, this is lovely,” I say as Mary runs a brush through my hair.
“Ah, Katherine, you’ve been through so much but the MacGregor’s won’t turn you out. I’m certain Lady MacGregor will have a plan for you.”
Dressed and hair pinned in place, I feel less unhinged. I can only imagine how I must look. There’s no mirror in the room. No walk-in closet with racks of shoes and bags. No cosmetics or arrangement of perfumes and lotions. No comforts of home. This is new territory. I never thought of myself as high-maintenance before, but without my iPhone in my hand, I feel naked.
“There now, ye look bonny. Come, let’s be off.”
And with that, I follow Mary down to the MacGregor’s great hall and the unknown. I’ll have to formulate a story. They’ll surely have lots of questions—questions for which I currently have no answers. Apparently, Duncan thinks I was kidnapped like he was and that my family was killed in the process. I’m willing to go with that. Hopefully, they won’t ask too much more. The more lies I tell, the more I’ll have to remember. I should think of some of the stories that James told in the castle. Treat this as though it’s not happening to me but as if I’m telling a story about someone else. If I remove myself, perhaps I can remain calm and stick with as much truth as possible.
We descend the stairs into a great room already full of people seated at massive wood tables, and all I can think is that this looks like a renaissance fair I attended once with my friends. Gone are suits and ties. No jeans or baseball hats. This is the real deal. Men have long hair past their shoulders or pulled back into queues. The women are in similar dresses to mine, each more beautiful than the next. And as I survey my surroundings, I realize it’s grown quiet and I’m the center of their attention.
“There she is. Lady Katherine, come and join us. Ye must be famished,” Lord MacGregor calls out from the table.
The woman at the head of the table rises as I approach to take my hands and kiss my cheek.
“Lady Katherine, my husband and I are indebted to you. How can we ever repay you for saving our son? Anything you wish and it shall be yours.”
The words tumble around my head as she takes me into her arms.
“Thank ye, truly,” she says into my ear and pulls back to smile at me. Her smile is half-pained and I wonder why.
“Please sit. We’re about to eat.” With that I sit next to Lady MacGregor and take a piece of cheese from my plate.
“It must be verra painful to be the only one left of your kin to have survived the brutal attack by the Murrays. Angus came upon them on the road to Castle Crathes. No one was spared, I’m afraid. You poor lass. You’re verra lucky to have escaped.”
“Crathes Castle, it’s near here?” I exclaim.
“Aye. About a day’s ride,” Lord MacGregor replies.
“I have no idea what I’m going to do now,” I say, and Lady MacGregor takes my hand.
“You’ve a place with us for as long as you need, Katherine,” she says kindly.
“I’ll protect ye, Lady Katherine.” Duncan stands and places his hand over his broach. He looks like a gallant young knight.
After taking his seat, he weaves a tale about my abduction. Expertly weaving a story together entertaining the curious people around me. He pieces it together from what he thinks the story must be, and I nod my head. I can’t tell them the truth or they’ll lock me away somewhere.
They seem satisfied by my story though I haven’t actually said anything, and they move on to the business of what to do with me.
“Lady Katherine, I assume you can read and write,” Lady MacGregor says. I nod my head.
“Good.” She eyes Duncan. “Because I know a little boy who could use a new tutor.”
Duncan’s head pops up from eating his tart. He’s covered in some sort of sticky berry.
“Tutor! I don’t need a tutor. I need to practice fighting with the guard. Angus is teaching me.”
“Young man, if you’re going to be laird, you need more than combat skills. And you should know that Angus has traveled far and knows a few languages. You should ask him some time when you’re not busy with that bow and arrow.” She smiles and sips her wine.
Duncan doesn’t look too happy about this but then again what little boy would be happy about being tutored.
For now, I can play along and try to stay out of the way until I figure out a way home. I don’t have a plan B, heck, I don’t even have a plan A, but I certainly can’t stay here.
We finish our meal and rise to go about the day. “Duncan, since Lady Katherine will be tutoring you why don’t you show her to the library.”
“Yes, mother,” Duncan replies, and stuffs the rest of his tart in his pocket. I hand him mine and he takes it eagerly.
“Good thing you have two pockets,” I say and wink at him.
“Come lady,” he says around a mouthful of flaky crust and berries.
“So Duncan, do you like to read?” I ask as we make our way down the stone hallway. My heart is beating in time with my footsteps.
“Like to read?” scrunching up his face like he just got a whiff of broccoli, he takes a stance like he’s loading an arrow into a quiver, “Aye, I suppose so, but I’d rather be at the practice range than in the stuffy library.”
Smiling, I reply, “It is a lovely day outside but I have to say that I love libraries. I love the smell of books and the feeling of paper under my fingertips.”
My voice sounds whimsical as I dream of shelves filled with books.
We come to a large wooden door at the end of the hallway and Duncan stops.
“The smell of musty old books makes you dreamy eyed?” Duncan asks with a wicked grin on his face. “Then you shall swoon when you see this, but first, you must close your eyes.”
“Close my eyes, why?” I ask.
“You’re in for a treat, and when mother gives me a treat, she makes me close my eyes first.” Eyes dancing in delight, Duncan’s practically hopping with excitement.
I squeeze my eyes shut and wait.
Duncan giggles and I smile. A child’s joy is so pure. It’s contagious.
The hinges squeak as the lock disengages. Duncan giggles more as he takes my hand.
“Come lady Katherine. Are you ready?” Duncan asks.
“Ready as I’ll ever be, Lord Duncan,” I say, and he pulls me forward. I put out my right hand to steady myself.
“I’ll not let you walk into the wall, lady,” Duncan says, “You can trust me.”
Taking small steps, I allow Duncan to guide me into the room. The only sounds are our footsteps along the stone. A ray of sunlight kisses my face in greeting and I raise my chin like a greedy lover eager for more. Breathing deeply, I smell them before I see them.