Chapter 4
“Ye can open yer eyes now lady,” Duncan says with a smile in his voice.
“There must be thousands,” I say softly to myself as my eyes scan the seemingly endless aisles of books.
“Aye, my father studies many things. He’s a verra learned man.” Duncan speaks proudly of his father.
“Your mother reads too, doesn’t she?” I say as I’m drawn to a desk in the middle of the room. Covered with open books and maps, I want to get lost in this room among the worlds of words.
“Yes. Mother reads me stories of our history and faraway places. She also loves her poems. The ladies love their flowery poetry.” He laughs.
“Hey, that’s a sexist thing to say young man. Women don’t just love poetry. And men can like it too.”
“What’s sexist?” Duncan asks. As I’m about to answer him, I feel a prickling on the back of my neck like someone is watching me. I turn to find the giant warrior, Angus, standing in the doorway behind us.
“Duncan, yer wanted in the yard for training,” he says. With that, he leaves the room and I wonder why he’s so cool toward me. For the short time I’ve known him, he always seems to have a curious look on his face. I can’t tell if he wants to throttle me or if he just plain wants me. It’s funny the two feelings are so closely related. It’s also curious that he seems so familiar—like the eyes in my dream. Like our souls have known each other before.
“I must go now,” Duncan says. “Training’s in the yard. Would ye like to come watch?” He asks me so sweetly I can’t bear to refuse him.
“That sounds lovely, Duncan,” I reply.
“Come then, I’ll bring ye back later. The books will be waiting.” Duncan reaches for my hand.
“I’ll be along shortly, I promise. I’d just like to look around a bit more, please.” I give him my brightest smile and he blushes.
“Alright then, come soon and watch me battle. You can cheer for me, aye?” he asks expectantly.
“I’d love to,” I reply.
Satisfied I’d be joining him, he hurries out.
I take the opportunity to walk around the room. I can’t help touching the books. E-readers are great but there’s still nothing like holding a book in my hands, turning the pages. I walk to the desk in the middle of the room. It’s large enough to set maps upon it and I can’t help but wonder what the world looks like now. There are still so many unexplored lands and adventures to unfold.
“What year is it?” I wonder aloud. Since I’ve been swept along by the tide of the McGregor household, I haven’t stopped to think about practical things such as what day it is or even what year. Taking a closer look at the maps, I search for clues as to the date.
In the corner of one of the maps, the year looks smudged, but it’s sixteen something. It’s a place to start. I press my fingers to my temple to massage the headache that’s beginning.
“There you are.” A happy blonde comes into the library to greet me. Medieval Barbie. Amazing.
“I heard you were in here. I’m Lady McGowan but you’re to call me Claire. I insist.” She hugs me and kisses my cheek. I like her immediately.
“And you shouldn’t be in the library when it’s so lovely outside. Come, I think there’s something more interesting going on in the courtyard. Will you join me?” Claire doesn’t give me a chance to refuse as she takes my hand and leads me downstairs. She’s giggling all the while, and I get the impression there’s more to the story than she’s telling me.
Big blue eyes framed by lashes that a Kardashian would kill for and cheeks flushed with mischief not bronzer, Claire is nothing short of stunning.
Clashing of swords, grunting, and shouting are a stark contrast to the quiet of the library. We turn the corner and stop in our tracks. The guards are standing in a circle around two men locked in battle.
The sun, now high in the sky, blazes upon their bare chests. The warriors are covered in a sheen of sweat and bent on murder. I’m mesmerized at how powerful, yet graceful, their movements are. I’ve never seen anything like it. If I’m being honest, I’m less interested in their swordsmanship than I am in Angus, shirtless in battle.
He belongs on the cover of a book. Hair pulled from his queue, gleaming with sweat and sporting a kilt, he’s quite the sight. Tall, broad shouldered, lean muscled, and tanned from training in the sun, he’s covered in a smattering of black hair along his chest and leading in a trail down his stomach.
Holy Mother of God, he’s gorgeous. He’s focused on his opponent with such intensity—I wonder what it would be like to have all that directed at me.
“You look like you could eat him alive,” Claire says a little too loudly.
“Who? Angus? Of course not,” I say, but I can see out of the corner of my eye that she’s smirking. “I’m just admiring his swordsmanship.”
I can hear Claire giggling, and I nonchalantly scan the area to see if anyone heard. I can’t take my eyes off him.
As Angus raises his claymore to strike his opponent, he catches me watching him, and it’s just enough distraction for the other guard to get in a lucky shot. The next thing I know, Angus is on the ground with his face covered in blood. Uh-oh.
Claire and I scream, and then look at each other. This is not good. As we start to back away, the courtyard quiets and every eye turns to me. The guardsmen can’t hide their smirks as they realize what distracted the captain of their guard. I don’t know that they’d ever seen him bested.
Claire grabs my hand and pulls me around the corner. I hear the laughter and ribbing as we run.
If he didn’t want to throttle me before, this oughta do it.
We run straight into the kitchen where the women are working on dinner preparations. Pots are brewing, meat is roasting over the fire, and herbs hang from the ceiling. It smells amazing. It’s a shame I have no appetite.
“Well, ladies, where are you running to?” the cook says as she stuffs a hen.
“I’m saving Katherine from Angus,” Claire giggles.
This has their attention. Times don’t change. Everyone loves to gossip. All of sudden, I become the center of attention. Thankfully, Duncan runs in grinning from ear to ear.
“Beth, Beth! Ye should have seen it! Angus got knocked on his . . .” He stops mid-sentence.
Seeing me at the table, his smile grows impossibly wide.
“Och, Lady Katherine. You’ll have seen Angus then. I must say, he wasna pleased to see you.”
“Duncan!” admonished the cook. “You’ll nay be speaking to her ladyship so. Why would ye say such a thing?”
I fiddle with a sprig of something green and fragrant as Duncan relates the tale. The boy could certainly spin a yarn. Throughout his animated retelling, I keep my eyes averted from the gasps and giggles.
“Well, I canna say I’ve ever heard of Angus flat out then, have ye?” Cook says with a sly grin on her face.
I finally look up from the now demolished twig between my fingers to find the ladies of the room surveying me as only women can.
“Nay, Beth, I canna say I have. I’ve ken Angus since he was a wee lad. He’s never caught off guard.”
“Aye, he’s the fiercest, bravest man among the guard. He must have been quite distracted,” says one of the kitchen girls. More giggling.
Now they’re all in on the conversation. I want to hide under the table.
“Ah, there you are! I’ve been looking all over for you.” A lovely bright-eyed woman breezes into the kitchen grabbing a tart as she passes the table. She reminds me of Keira Knightley in Pride and Prejudice. I feel like a giant compared to these women.
“You must be Lady Katherine.” She smiles mischievously at me.
Claire introduces her friend. “This is Lady Margaret: Castle flirt.” The rest of the ladies laugh as Duncan steals her tart.
“Nonsense. Dinna believe anything ye’ve heard,” she says as she winks at me.
“But I’ve come to tell you that I’ve heard something,” she says, and looks at me with a crooked grin. “Someone distracted our captain during training.”
They all look at me again. Does everyone know? How does information get around this fast without Twitter and cell phones? Amazing.
She walks around the table to sit next to me.
“So I’ve heard ye caught the eye of our captain.”
“Oh, no. Not at all. I don’t think he cares for me,” I whisper to my twig.
“Doesna care for you? None of the lasses at the castle have ever made him lose his concentration before, have they, girls?” Beth says, shaking her head at me.
“I don’t really believe it was me who distracted him.” I begin to make my case.
“It’s more likely that you distracted him than he let his guard down in battle. There’s a reason he’s the captain. Besides, do ye know nothing of men, Katherine?” Beth says as Lady MacGregor sweeps into the room. A glowing lovely woman; she reminds me of Angelina Jolie.
“Lady Katherine, here ye are. I’ve been looking for you. Will ye walk with me? It’s such a lovely day.”
I rise warily. Covered in herbs, I brush off my hands on my skirt and follow Lady MacGregor. I can feel the eyes of everyone in the kitchen following us outside.
We take a leisurely stroll toward the garden. “So, Katherine, how are ye finding the castle? It mustn’t be easy being among strangers. I hope everyone is making you feel at home here. It is yer home now, if ye’ll have us.”
She’s so kind and hopeful, but I have friends that are no doubt wondering where I am, probably frantic. What if they think the worst? If I can’t get back, I don’t think I have many options. Everyone has been so kind to me. I could do worse.
I smell the garden before I see it. The fragrance is sweet and soothing. And as we come upon the grandeur that is Lady MacGregor’s garden, the riot of colors explodes into view. Every shade and every shape—hot pink, yellow, green, fuchsia, magenta, and deep purple, it’s like walking into a Monet.
“This castle is built on ancient ground. It’s said there’s magic here if ye believe in that sort of thing.” She looks over her shoulder at me to gauge my reaction.
“They say there’s spirits that travel between worlds. Stories have been handed down from my mother’s mother.”
Between the worlds?
“There’s one story in particular that I remember. The story of the Green Lady. She was a beautiful, quiet young girl that wed Lord Burnett. They were verra much in love. He had the garden and fountain built for his young bride. She would spend much time there in reflection. Then one day she went for a walk in the garden, and she was never seen again. All that was left behind were the coins she used to make wishes upon the fountain. It’s said her spirit lingers, searching for her love.”
All the little hairs on my arms stand on end and I shiver, shaken to my core. I know that story. James told it the night before the wedding as we sat in front of the fire. Could it be true? If so, I have to get back to that fountain.
Trying to calm myself, I breathe deeply of the lavender, roses, and lilies. I close my eyes, raise my face to the sun, and pray that the fountain is the key. All I have to do is get there and test my theory.
“Yes, it is glorious, isn’t it?” I open my eyes to find her smiling at me.
“I come here to think. The castle is always busy and noisy. Dinna misunderstand, I’m happy for we’re blessed with a lovely family, but every now and again I find I’m in need of some quiet time.”
“This is all so beautiful. It reminds me of a painting,” I say. I wish I had my paints with me or a good camera.
She eyes me curiously. “You’ve been well-educated then in reading, writing, and art. It will be good you’re tutoring Duncan. I canna help but think he’ll be in verra capable hands.” She pauses by some roses. “But what about you, Katherine? Have ye a man back home?”
I laughed a little then. There may be hundreds of years’ difference between us, but I could safely say that mothers haven’t changed a bit.
“No. There’s no one.”
I can see the wheels turning. As she’s choosing her words, I pick up a lily that’s fallen to the ground and inhale its fragrance. Looking over my shoulder, I see the sly grin on her face. Lady MacGregor is up to something.
“I would like to hold a week of games. We’ll call the clans together to compete. It would be a festive celebration.” She’s looking at me now.
“Well I think that sounds grand. I’d be happy to help,” I say. It actually sounds like fun.
“Well now, that’s perfect.”
Said the spider to the fly. Why did I get the distinct impression I’d just walked into a trap?
“As I mentioned there’d be games, yes? And as with games, there must be a prize.”
Okay . . . She’s working up to something.
“You shall be that prize, Katherine.”
I stop in my tracks and give Lady MacGregor my full attention. “Excuse me? How will I be a prize? I have nothing to offer.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. The games will be a great celebration, and we’ll find you a husband. Doesn’t that please you?”
“With all due respect, my lady, I don’t see how I’d be a prize for any man. I have neither wealth, nor title, nor land.”
“Katherine, you’ve saved my son, and as a reward, Lord MacGregor has given you a dowry.”
This is not happening. “It sounds as though you’ve got this all worked out.” Even to my ears, I sound angry. I don’t want to be auctioned off like a prize cow.
“I only wish to find you a husband. Do you not wish for a family of your own? I see you with Duncan. You adore him and he you.”
“I don’t know what I want right now, milady. Your offer is very generous but I am already imposing on you.” This is crazy talk. From what I can remember, women are viewed as property. That does not appeal to me. I’m not property to be owned.
“I see the wheels turning, Katherine. The decision has been made, and word is already on its way to the clans. The games will begin in a month. That will give us time to prepare and the clans time to travel. You should be excited. Shall I tell you about some of the men I think will fight for you?”
Suddenly weary, I need time alone to think. “Lady MacGregor, I think I need some time. Please excuse me.” And with that I leave her in the garden. She would think I’m rude, I’m sure, but I can’t take it anymore. My life is out of my hands. How do women do this? At home, I had a career, my own space, and made my own decisions. Here, in this time, I have no independence. If I can’t get back, my life is in the hands of the MacGregor’s and soon will be in the hands of a husband—a husband who will win me like a prize at a fair. The thought is horrifying. While I can admit that the idea of a certain man fighting to win my hand is rather romantic, I can’t quite commit to it. I don’t belong here. It would never work. Too many conflicting thoughts race through my mind as I walk down the garden path to the pond.
Sitting in the grass, my cheeks heat and tears come to my eyes. I don’t usually cry but I can’t help but feel out of control and helpless. The breeze is a faint whisper against my skin. “I need to get my act together,” I say aloud to the trees. I can’t seem to move, rooted to this spot like the lovely birch swaying in the breeze. And that’s when I feel him.
“Katherine.” I sob more at the sound of his voice. Funny how I know it already. As though I’ve always known it.
“Go away, Angus. Please,” I say not unkindly.
I didn’t hear him approach. I don’t even look up as he stands in front of me. He kneels down and places his plaid around my shoulders. After fastening it, he stands and walks away. As the sound of his footsteps get further away, I wonder how he always manages to know when I need him.
After having a good cry, I realize I need to face my situation. Do I try to find the fountain or do I stay and let some man win me like a stuffed toy at a carnival? I already know my answer, but even as I think about going back, a pair of black eyes flash into my mind and my body clenches. I take his plaid and bring it to my nose. God, it smells like him. How can I go back? How can I let another man win me? What does Angus want with me? I have more questions than answers.
I head back into the castle and roam around. There are beautiful paintings on the wall framed in gold depicting ancestors and hunting scenes. I’m sure there are stories to go with each painting. I will have to ask Lady MacGregor to give me a tour so I can ask her about them.
I walk into a familiar room. The library. It’s absolutely gorgeous. There are so many books, I want to take one and curl up in the window seat and read.
That’s when I feel it, the prickling on the back of my neck like someone is watching. I don’t have to turn to know who it is.
Angus is standing over the desk looking down at a scroll of some kind. The room, although huge, feels much too small. It would be a quiet, peaceful place if not for the pounding of my heart. Dark hair to his shoulders, he had two small braids at his temples. Face with a day’s stubble, deep blue eyes, and impossibly long eyelashes. Arms crossed over his chest, thick leather wristbands, and a massive sword at his back, he looks every bit the warrior.
When I realize I’ve been staring, I try looking around. Caught in is gaze, he reminds me of a lion and I the deer. My traitorous cheeks heating, I know they’re pink now.
“This is a lovely library. I wonder if Lady MacGregor would let me borrow a book?” I feel foolish, but he makes me nervous. Like a dance, I move toward a lovely book and Angus moves toward me. I pull a black book with beautiful gold lettering from the shelf. I can’t read Latin but I do see Ovid on the cover. I open it and flip through some pages.
In a low deep voice like growl of an engine, he recites “Pygmalion” in Latin. I stare the page but he doesn’t. He looks at me.
I remember bits of the poem. Pygmalion is enchanted by the statue. He touches it to see if it is indeed flesh. He kisses it and is kissed back. He treats the statue like it’s a woman he can touch and talk with and kiss, and even make love to.
Standing close, yet not touching I can feel his eyes trace the curve of my neck. I raise my hand to touch where his eyes have surely branded me.
The library is silent but with him so close, my heart thunders in my ears. His voice barely a whisper, he leans ever so slightly, his hand braced on the shelf next to me, “Would you yield beneath my touch, Katherine?”
I want to drop the book, grab him, and pull his mouth to mine. I need to taste him, no longer needing words. This man certainly doesn’t need to love poetry to woo women. He’s lethal in silence, never mind whispering Ovid in my ear.
I can’t look up from the page. Instead I stare at it and pray he’d leave me alone. No such luck.
As if he feels my need, his thumb caresses the place where my neck meets my shoulder. “Is this ivory indeed flesh?”
I shiver and lean forward as if some invisible force pulls me toward him. Angus stops and gently slips his fingers around my neck so now I’m flush against his body.
“Katherine.” My blood sings for him.
Unable to keep my eyes from his, I turn.
A young voice breaks the spell, “Angus are ye here?”
I step back to escape his grip but he won’t release me.
“I’ll have you.” With those whispered words, he drops his hand.
Duncan rushes through the doorway.
“There you are! Reading poetry while the real men practice in the yard. Och, Angus, I never thought I’d see the day.” Duncan needles Angus with a big grin on his face.
I smile at that.
Angus faces me now. “Lady Katherine likes poetry. Don’t you, love?”
I want to smack that sexy crooked grin right off his face. Arrogant man. God, I want to do very bad things to him.
“Nay, I think she’d rather see you fight than listen to you mangle some silly poetry. C’mon, let’s go.”
With that, Angus inclines his head and bids me a good day. I exhale the breath I didn’t know I was holding. As if the library wasn’t my favorite place before, the pleasure of reading now holds new meaning.
Closing the book, I return to my room and rest.