Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Sixteen
With the prince’s arrival, the entire town of Inverness was thrown into turmoil. The prince’s whereabouts was a closely guarded secret, but the inns were filled with his officers. Thousands of soldiers sprawled in the fields, and the streets were filled at all hours of the day and night, the taverns staying open for as long as there were men wanting drink.
Not all of the men were disciplined, trained soldiers. Anyone willing to fight the English was welcome to join. There weren’t enough women following the camp, either, which made the ones in Inverness vulnerable to men who wanted their needs satiated.
Niall didn’t much like the idea of Charlotte going into Fergus’ office each day with the army everywhere, and drove to her into Inverness himself each morning. He hadn’t questioned Charlotte further about their conversation. At this point, time would tell if things came to pass as she said they would. Besides which, he was still trying to make logical sense out of what he still thought was impossible.
However, his sister didn’t have any qualms about questioning him. Greer caught up with him one morning after he’d returned from Inverness. Seated across from him in the study, she didn’t mince words.
“What have ye been hiding?”
“Hiding?”
“Doona play coy with me, brother.” Greer studied him. “For the past week, ye have acted secretive.”
“Secretive? I’ve been busy.” Niall hoped to refocus her attention. “In case ye have nae noticed, we’ve a few thousand men about.”
“Do ye think me daft? I practically trip over them.” Her eyes narrowed. “’Tis nae what I mean, and ye ken it.”
So much for that ruse. “I’ve been busy,” he said again. “I’ve nae been hiding my activities.”
“Aye, your activities. Ye take Charlotte into Inverness. Ye come home. Ye train. Ye eat. Ye train again. Ye go get Charlotte.” She waved a hand. “’Tis nae what I’m asking. What is it ye are hiding?”
While his sister was not malicious in any way, she could be as tenacious as his brother and father. Even worse, she had an uncanny intuition at times, and this appeared to be one of them. He could hardly reveal his secret, though. Trying to explain that Charlotte had somehow arrived at the Hogmanay dance from the twenty-first century would make even his sister doubt his sanity.
Charlotte’s predictions would come true—or not—soon enough. He contemplated the thought. Perhaps he could manipulate that information into something Greer might accept.
“I have been preoccupied by some of the strategies that I heard the prince was considering,” he said. “I doona ken if he wants that information spread.”
Greer made an exasperated huffing sound. “Ye doona want to tell me because I am a woman?”
Niall sighed. He should have known that was coming. “Nae, sister. ’Tis nae wise to let a commander’s plans be heard by too many in case the wrong ears hear it.”
She gave him a long look. “Do ye mean Charlotte?”
He started and then managed to restrain himself from laughing. If Greer only knew the irony of what she’d just said.
“Ye doona really think she is a spy, do ye?” his sister asked.
“Nae. I doona think that, but with so many strangers around—even some here at Castle Dounie, ’tis better to say nothing.” He gave Greer a winsome smile. She didn’t look convinced. “Doona be offended, sister. Keeping this secret has nae to do with the fact that ye are female.”
“Then why can ye nae tell me? Do ye think I canna be trusted?”
A sudden image of a small terrier fiercely trying to dig a rabbit out of a hole passed through his mind, although Greer looked nothing like a terrier. She simply was acting like one. He sighed again as his sister folded her arms across her chest.
The door to the study opened just as he was about to share a bit of what Charlotte had told him.
“Sorry to bother the two of ye,” Simon said, “but Major Grant has just surrendered Fort George. The army is setting fire to it.”
Greer gave him a quick look. “Was that the secret ye didna want to share?”
He nodded, glad for the reprieve. “I didna ken exactly when it would happen, so I didn’t want to take a chance on something going wrong because of me.”
“Hmph.” Greer rose and went to the door. “I suppose we’ll have a celebration, then. I’d best go see to it.”
Niall sat back as she left with his brother. So. The first of Charlotte’s claims had come true.
****
“It does feel good to have something to celebrate, nae?” Greer asked Charlotte the next day as they sat in the solar making plans for a ceilidh. “We’ve finally got the English retreating and surrendering.”
That was only temporary, Charlotte knew, but she didn’t want to destroy Greer’s hopes. And maybe—just maybe—now that she had told Niall what history had written, there might be a possibility of avoiding it. After all, Ray Bradbury had written about someone squashing a butterfly and changing the course of history forever. That story had been science-fiction, but why couldn’t it happen in reality?
“I’m glad there were no casualties.”
“Niall said it’s because they decided to blow up the bastion facing the bridge instead of trying to attack the double layers of defense wall,” Greer said.
Charlotte smiled. “I suppose waking up to an explosion and finding the main entrance missing might persuade the commander to surrender.”
“Aye.” Greer gave her an answering smile. “But Major Grant is a relative of ours, so I suspect Da might have something to do with it too.”
Charlotte was surprised, given the reaction she’d gotten when she created her fictional betrothed Colin. “Your family is related to English Grants?”
“’Tis complicated,” Greer answered. “Some clans are split between supporting the English and wanting a Stuart back on the throne. In our case, the major at the fort—George Grant—favors the English while another relative—James Grant—is a Jacobite.”
“That must make for some tense family moments.”
Greer shrugged. “’Tis the same with the Duke of Atholl, who holds Blair Castle for the English. His brother is our General Murray.”
In reflection, it probably wasn’t so much different from the American Civil War where families split loyalties between the North and the South. She was about to compare that, but realized what century she was in. “I had no idea,” she said.
“Och, well. ’Tis the way it is.” Greer turned back to the list she’d been making for the party. “I’m just glad we’re finally going to have some fun. It’s been a long while since we’ve had a gathering.”
The ceilidh. Charlotte wished she could feel the same enthusiasm as Greer did.
Unfortunately, she had lost her zest for the event when Greer’s father mentioned that it was time he had the Gordons over for an evening and this would work out splendidly. She wasn’t sure what that meant, but uneasiness had stayed with her, especially since Fiona had visited the office about a week ago and Charlotte had overheard her father saying he was going to talk to Lord Fraser. Were Greer’s father and Fiona’s planning to make an announcement of a betrothal? Did Niall know about it? Would he have a choice, given that marriages were arranged in this century? Or…would he agree to it?
The thought sickened her. She knew she had no right to claim Niall’s affections, given the circumstances, but that didn’t stop her deepening feelings for him. When did emotions ever follow logic? If she wanted to be logical, Niall would no longer exist in her century. He would be ashes with a grave marker that she might visit. Tears welled up in her eyes at that thought. She must have made some sort of sound for Greer jerked her head up.
“What’s wrong?” She put down the paper she’d been writing on. “Are ye crying?”
Charlotte swallowed hard and blinked rapidly to dissolve the tears. “No…I…just got something in my eye.” For emphasis, she rubbed an eyelid. “A speck of dust, probably. I…I’m all right now.” She took another fortifying breath, hoping she could control the horrible urge to weep.
“Ye look a little pale.”
“I’m…fine. Really.” Somehow, she managed to paste a smile on her face and gestured to the paper. “How far along in the plans are you?”
Greer gave her a doubtful look but didn’t press the issue. “There will be a banquet in the Great Hall before the dancing and other festivities begin.” She picked up the paper and frowned. “I’m trying to decide the seating arrangements on the dais. I doona want to offend any of the clan lairds that are attending, but I doona ken if we have room for all of them, especially since Da wants Mr. Gordon seated next to him.”
Charlotte felt like she’d swallowed molten lead and just barely managed not to grip her stomach. “Do you…do you know why your father wants him there?”
“I am nae sure,” Greer replied. “It could be that Da wants the other lairds to ken he has a solicitor at his hand to increase his power-hold now that the war has come to us.” She grimaced. “’Twould be like Da to do that.”
From what Charlotte had observed and heard about Greer’s father, it might be a motive. The Frasers were the biggest—and possibly the most important—clan in this region. It would be natural in the alpha world for Lord Lovat to establish his dominance through such a subtle gesture that wouldn’t give offense, but it offered Charlotte only a glimmer of hope.
She was very much afraid that the real intention was to announce a betrothal between Niall and Fiona.
****
Charlotte looked up at the dais as she walked into the Great Hall the evening of the ceilidh. Greer had managed to seat all the visiting lairds at the table. Lord Lovat sat directly in the middle, with Mr. Gordon to his right. At least, Fiona had not been given a place, which Charlotte had thought likely if an announcement was to be made. Then again, Niall wasn’t seated at the head table either, since it was full.
She found him seated at the smaller round table nearby that the family often used and where Greer had told her she would be sitting this evening as well. Her heart dropped to her stomach when she saw Fiona already seated next to him. Simon was on his other side, so Charlotte took a seat between Greer and Keir across from the brothers and pretended not to notice when Fiona nudged her chair closer to Niall.
“’Tis excited I am about tonight,” she said, her gaze on Niall. “I canna wait to dance.”
“’Twill be a long night.”
“I am looking forward to it.” Fiona smiled at him, looking very much like a cat who’d just discovered the creamery door open.
“Well, before we dance, we have to eat. The venison smells wonderful,” Greer said as she lifted the dome off the platter in the middle of the table. “Niall, will ye do the carving?”
“’Tis my job,” Simon stood before Niall could reply and picked up the knife.
Charlotte was grateful the attention turned to food instead of a continuation of Fiona’s flirtation. Niall had not seemed to notice the chair shift… or maybe he didn’t mind. Charlotte pushed the thought away. She’d already spent too much time thinking and worrying, these past few days. If she’d been in the twenty-first century, she might merely have asked Niall what his future plans were. Then again, maybe not. It would have sounded like an ultimatum of sorts, and those usually turned out badly. Besides which, there was a certain amount of decorum she had to follow in this time period, even though Vi would have had conniptions and fits about unequal rights. Women’s Lib wasn’t going to happen here. However, she had employed a plotting device and made subtle inquiries about Fiona to Niall, each one geared to learning more about their past. His answers had been noncommittal, much like the one he’d just given. Men could be exceedingly frustrating at times.
“This does look good,” Niall said as he passed a plate with several slices of meat to Fiona.
She didn’t take it. Instead, she smiled at him. “Would ye mind filling the rest of it for me? ’Tis nae polite for me to reach.”
Charlotte felt her appetite disappear as she watched Niall silently add mashed turnips, cooked carrots, and a thick slice of bread pudding to Fiona’s plate and then set it down in front of her. He didn’t seem to mind, but then, did he have a choice? Even though there were just the six of them at the table, he and Simon were still the hosts.
Keir quickly followed suit by asking Charlotte if he could fill her plate, and after a somewhat surprised look, Simon did the same for Greer. Charlotte just hoped she’d be able to keep a few bites down.
As dinner proceeded, she watched the interactions covertly. Fiona, it seemed, was a master player. The term normally referred to men—at least in her century—but many of the characteristics applied in this situation. Tonight, the girl was all smiles, reacting demurely to Niall’s general comments and managing to brush her hand or arm against his every time one of them moved. Charlotte wouldn’t have been too surprised if she’d asked Niall to cut her meat and feed her since she seemed to be practically helpless. Charlotte started to snort, but managed to turn it into a cough.
“Are ye all right?” Greer asked.
She nodded, feeling Niall’s eyes on her and tried not to choke. “Something just went down the wrong way.”
“Mayhap a sip of wine will help?” Keir handed her the goblet, his hand closing around hers to make sure she didn’t spill it.
“Thank you.” She took the cup and swallowed, forcing her throat to relax and returned to pretending to enjoy her meal. Conversation buzzed again around her, but she paid scant attention.
Fiona was anything but helpless. Nor was she in any way feeble-minded. She was playing a game this evening and Charlotte was pretty sure every move was calculated, much like every move in a chess game was, to get what she wanted.
She recalled quite clearly the warning Fiona had given her the day they’d gone to lunch: Niall Fraser is mine.
The message was clear then and it was clear now. The question was, did Niall know?
****
Niall didn’t much like watching Keir offer Charlotte her wine goblet as she coughed. He didn’t miss that his friend’s fingers lingered over hers a mite too long, either. He furrowed his brows. It had been bad enough that Keir filled her plate, but there wasn’t much he could do about that, given that Fiona started it by asking him to do the same for her. As host, he could hardly refuse, although he wondered why she asked. The food was all in the center of the table.
Fiona certainly was acting strangely tonight. He avoided glancing at her because each time he did, she smiled brightly and asked him some inane question. That wasn’t like her either. Keir’s sister was not one to blether on about nothing. She usually had strong opinions and wasn’t afraid to voice them. Tonight, though, she was agreeing with everything he said. A poke in his side interrupted his thoughts. He turned to Simon.
“What?”
His brother leaned closer and whispered. “Ye look like a thunderstorm about to roll in.”
“I do nae…” He let his voice trail off as he realized he was frowning. Relaxing his brow, he gave Simon a tight smile. “It this better?”
“Och, aye. Now ye look like a snarling dog.”
He straightened his mouth. “Fine.”
Simon leaned back and gave him a curious look. “We are celebrating a victory, in case ye’ve forgotten.”
“I’ve nae forgotten.”
“’Tis talk of taking Fort Augustus next.”
Niall was glad he’d already schooled his features and therefore managed not to show any emotion. The hair rising at his nape was another matter. It seemed another of Charlotte’s predictions was going to come true. He glanced at her. Had she heard?
She had. She raised one eyebrow subtly as she met his gaze. He held the look until his brother cleared his throat and he realized what he was doing. Simon glanced from Charlotte to him and Niall knew he was trying to analyze the situation. He would have to be careful he gave nothing more away.
Fiona touched his arm. “The music is starting. Ye promised me the first dance.”
He had done nothing of the sort. He’d intended to ask Charlotte. However, it might be best to acquiesce to throw his brother off the trail.
He pushed back his chair and stood. “My pleasure.”
Simon stood too. “And I’d like to request the honor of dancing with our guest, Miss MacGregor.”
A fleet of emotions passed over Charlotte’s face so quickly, he couldn’t read any of them. His own face felt like the thunderstorm really was rolling in this time. If his brother interrogated Charlotte, he would…
That thought didn’t get finished because as Fiona stood she managed to press her breast against his arm before she turned. From her knowing smile and the way her tongue darted out at the corner of her mouth, it had been deliberate.
Suddenly, he realized why Fiona had been acting like she did. She was still interested in him. He glanced at Keir, but he was talking to Greer. He hoped his friend was right and that, by the time the night was over, Fiona would have found another man. Or…another man would find her.
He suddenly had a different goal to accomplish tonight.
****
“My pleasure,” he said. It might have been a socially benign response from Niall that had no further meaning. Or did he genuinely mean dancing with Fiona would be truly pleasurable and that he was looking forward to it?
The words echoed through her mind as she watched Fiona press herself against him as she stood. Slithered would have been a better word. Charlotte noticed that Niall gave a quick glance toward Keir, but she couldn’t interpret it. Was he hoping Fiona’s brother wouldn’t notice? At least, they wouldn’t be waltzing, since that dance had not yet reached Britain’s shores.
Simon had his arm extended and she remembered now that he had asked her to dance. It was a rather strange request, since he’d remained aloof ever since she’d arrived at Castle Dounie. She placed her hand on his arm and forced a smile. He gave a curt nod in return, which led her to believe that he was trying to divert her attention from Niall and Fiona instead of wanting to dance with her. He probably agreed with his father that the match would be a good one.
Her suspicions were more or less confirmed when they lined up to dance a version of a reel that resembled the country-western square dances of rural Texas.
“Are ye interested in Niall?” he asked on the first pass.
That was certainly blunt enough. Thankfully, she had a spin and step to take before she came close enough to answer him.
“Your brother has been very kind to me.”
“Nae the question I asked, lass,” he replied as they separated again.
The rest of the dance was peppered with similar questions to which she managed to make noncommittal replies, but she was thankful when the dance ended. She turned to go back to the table when he caught her elbow.
“I think a bit of fresh air would be good.”
“It’s February.”
“There’s nae snow on the ground at the moment, so it will be tolerable.” Simon gave her a direct look. “There’s questions I want answered and I doona think ye want me to ask them here.”
Charlotte glanced quickly around. Keir and Greer were at the far end of the room, not looking in her direction. She didn’t see either Niall or Fiona anywhere. She narrowed her eyes slightly. Maybe they were outside enjoying a “bit of fresh air” and Simon wanted her to run into them. There had been no announcement made of a betrothal at the dinner, but if she saw them embracing or kissing, she would have her answer. Which is probably what Simon wanted. She sighed.
“All right, but I don’t intend to stand out there for long.”
“That will be up to ye.”
He did stop long enough in the foyer to grab two cloaks from pegs and handed one of them to her. As she wrapped it around herself, Niall’s familiar scent of heather soap and leather engulfed her. How ironic—and possibly cruel—that Simon had handed her Naill’s cloak.
She followed him silently as he led the way around the corner of the castle to a hedged area that blocked both wind and view and had a folly. It would be a perfect place for a tryst, come summer, but even now it afforded the privacy for a kiss or two. She braced herself for what she would see once she got closer.
Surprisingly, though, Simon stopped and turned to her.
Was Niall not here? Why would his brother have brought her out here if not to find Niall and Fiona in a compromising situation? Simon had asked endless questions during the dance, so she doubted he had more.
Uneasiness suddenly swept through her as she realized she was alone with a man in a dark, secluded area. She swallowed hard and started to step back, but he stayed her.
“Why…why did you bring me out here?” She tried to pull her arm away, but he held fast. “I’ll scream if you don’t let me go.” Not that it would do any good, with the music going on inside. No matter. She raised her chin and glared at him. “I will scream.”
His eyes widened as comprehension dawned on him. He dropped his hand and shook his head. “Ye can rest easy on that, lass. I am nae planning to hurt ye.”
Well. He hadn’t hurt her. His grip had just been firm. He wasn’t making any move toward her, either. Still, she took a couple of steps back to put space between them so she could run if she needed to. He didn’t move.
She glanced at the folly again, but it seemed empty. “Why are we out here?”
“I told ye. I have questions.”
“I answered your questions during the dance.”
“Ye evaded my questions.” He shook his head again. “I am nae moonstruck by ye like Niall is, so I’ll nae believe your lies.”
“My lies? I—”
“Doona lie again. I grow weary of it.”
A different kind of uneasiness settled over her. She pulled Niall’s cloak tighter for comfort. “I don’t know what else I can tell you.”
“For starters, ye can tell me who ye really are and what ye are doing here.”