Chapter 3
She’d done it. She’d traveled through time, through the fog and now she was seated next to a very happy Wallace.
“Edna said you loved those scones. She asked me to make sure you got them,” Tina said, placing the bag of scones on the wooden bench between them.
“Thank ye, lass. She’s right. I look forward to them with great relish.”
They started off down the path into the surrounding woods.
The smell of pine scented trees tickled her nose with their delightful scent.
Birds chirped happily from their perches up high and she thought how this wasn’t much different from her own time.
She glanced over at Wallace, who despite his clothing looked very real.
She wasn’t sure what she had expected him to look like, but his kind eyes and happy smile assured her all would be well.
“Did you take my sister to Breaghacraig, Wallace?” she asked.
“Nae. Hamish brought her.”
She hadn’t heard that part of their story.
She looked around them, wondering if the man she was supposed to meet would be meeting them soon.
Edna had said Wallace would take her to Breaghacraig, but hadn’t said when or where she would meet her mystery man.
Wallace was friendly enough, but not as chatty as Edna.
She thought for a while about a topic they could cover. “Do you do this often?”
“Whenever Edna needs me.” He smiled reassuringly at her.
“How does she get in touch with you?” she asked.
“Through the fire. I cannae say that I’m used to it yet, but ’tis how she communicates with me.”
“When you say through the fire, what do you mean?” she couldn’t even begin to imagine.
“Through my hearth, ye ken.” He said it as if she should know exactly what he was talking about.
“Oh, I see,” she lied.
“Ye’ll see. If she needs to talk to ye, she may do the same.” He continued to guide the cart down the wooded path.
“Wow! I’m glad you told me because otherwise I’d probably freak out.” She thought she probably would anyway. That seemed a crazy way to talk to someone, but wasn’t this whole thing crazy?
“Lass, I dinnae understand the way ye speak. I dinnae ken ‘freak out.’”
Tina laughed. “I guess you wouldn’t. I just mean I’d probably be scared.”
“That I understand and the first time she spoke to me I, as ye say, freaked out.”
She laughed again. He’d put her quite at ease and their journey to Breaghacraig was no longer as scary as she thought it would be when she’d stepped across the bridge.
This was definitely doable. She’d just pretend she was vacationing at a medieval theme park.
That should help and when she got to Breaghacraig, she’d meet her man and be on her way back home in no time.
She settled into her seat and took in the sights.
In some ways, the scenery they passed seemed similar to Livermore.
Throw in a winery or two and it could be.
She wondered what her sister had been thinking as she made this journey.
She’d have to remember to ask her when she got back home.
She’d told Elle she was going on a tour of the Highlands and so she was.
She just hadn’t said what century she’d be touring in.
“Ye seem like a happy lass,” Wallace observed as he drove his horse up to a ground eating trot.
“You know, I am happy. I’m looking forward to seeing what the future holds for me.”
“So ye dinnae ken it?” he asked.
“No. Should I?” Did he know something she didn’t?
“Nae,” he said, not offering anything else.
“Did Edna tell you anything about the man I’m supposed to meet?” she asked. Her curiosity was getting the better of her.
“I’m afraid she didnae.” He just shook his head at her and turned back to the horse.
“Okay. It just kind of sounded like you might know something.” Tina felt the panic wanting to resurface again. She took a deep breath and reminded herself that this was an adventure, she closed her eyes and blew out the breath and felt the panic start to dissipate.
“Lass, as I’ve said. I dinnae ken much of what ye say. I probably misunderstood ye. Now, settle back. We’ve got a long way to go, but dinnae fear I haven’t lost a lass yet.”
Tina tensed up in her seat until she noticed Wallace winking at her. “Wallace! I’m surprised at you!”
He chuckled. “I like ye, lass. I think I’m going to enjoy this.”
***
The day started off with such promise, as had the day before and the day before that.
Those had ended poorly for him, but Donal hoped that today might end differently.
The lass in the kitchen was back and she’d agreed to meet him by the postern gate at sunset.
If all went well, he’d be exactly where he wished to be, in the arms of a beautiful, buxom red-haired lass.
The mere thought of it set his pulse to racing and his kilt to rising.
He spun quickly leaning on the well to hide his more than obvious arousal at the thought of Bess …
Beth … Oh, what was her name? He nodded to the few passersby who gave him curious stares as he ran names through his head determined to get it right.
“Bethia!” he exclaimed out loud, slamming his palm into his forehead.
How was it that he couldn’t for the life of him remember it.
“Donal? Did ye call me,” Bethia asked, approaching the well with an empty bucket.
“Och! Aye. Aye. I did.”
She smiled sweetly at him as she lowered her bucket into the well.
“Here. Allow me to help ye with that,” he said. No one would ever accuse him of nae being chivalrous. She moved out of the way as he hoisted the now filled bucket up and set it on the ledge of the well.
“What did ye want?” she asked.
“I wished to tell ye how beautiful ye …” Bethia didnae seem to be listening to him. He was trying to woo her a bit and instead she was glancing towards the gate.
Turning his head to see what was so fascinating, he noted an elderly couple speaking with the guard, who glanced around and upon seeing Donal pointed in his direction.
“Who are they?” Bethia asked, standing so close to his side that his arm brushed her breast.
He fought to control his erection as the couple approached. “I dinnae recognize them,” he said. He turned towards her and his arm again brushed her breast. Tonight was definitely going to be better than the last.
“Are ye Donal?” the elderly man shouted as he got closer.
Donal was startled at the man’s angry tone. He turned to give him his full attention, “Aye,” he answered. He looked from the man to the woman and back not recognizing these people.
“We’ve something for ye,” he said, motioning to the woman who was carrying something.
“For me?” What could it be? He hoped it was something good.
“Aye. ’Tis yers,” the man practically hissed at him.
The woman raised a plaid wrapped package with shaky arms and placed it into his hands. As soon as she did, it began to wriggle and shriek.
“What’s this?” he asked, a look of horror on his face.
Bethia peeked into the blankets.
“’Tis a bairn,” she said. The look she gave him was one he would never forget. Shock and something else rested there. Accusation.
“Why do ye give me yer bairn?” he stuttered out.
“She’s yers,” the woman said, her voice choked with tears.
“I dinnae understand. I have nae child.” These people were daft.
“Ye do now,” the old man said. He motioned to his wife and they began to walk away.
He glanced at Bethia, who was shaking her head in apparent disbelief. She picked up her bucket and turned away from him.
“Bethia. Dinnae leave. The bairn isnae mine.” He scrambled after the couple. “Wait. Take her back. She isnae mine.”
The man turned and pointed a crooked finger at Donal’s chest, “Ye soiled our daughter,” he yelled and all of Donal’s blood drained from his body.
He was suddenly very cold and very still.
“And now that she’s gone …” he stopped and clenched his jaw for moment before continuing, “we cannae care for this wee one. Yer her Da. ’Tis yer duty to care for her. ”
“Gone?” He looked to the old woman, but she would not meet his eyes. “Is she dead?” he asked.
“Aye, the fever took her from us.” The fight had gone out of the man and somehow, he looked even older than he did before.
“She hadnae been well since the birth. We held out hope she would regain her strength, but then she fell ill. We dinnae have the means to care for the child. She’s yers now.
” He turned and started walking away again.
Donal watched him take a few steps, his mind racing and he realized, he didn’t know who the man was talking about. “Wait. I dinnae ken who yer daughter is. Please tell me.” He hadn’t been so panicked at any point in his life, even in the heat of battle.
“Her name was Sionaid. Sionaid MacGregor.”
The woman wept silently as they marched away from him. He watched them head toward the gate and just stood there. The child had stopped shrieking at some point and he looked at her to try and make sense of this.
“Sionaid.” Blast his faulty memory.
“Do ye nae remember her?” Bethia asked.
He didn’t know when she had walked up beside him, but she’d obviously heard enough of the man’s story to know what happened. “Nae. I dinnae.”
“Shame on ye. Ye lout.” He looked up at her suddenly and saw sparks of anger glowing in her eyes. “She was one of the kitchen maids.”
“When?” This couldn’t be happening to him. They must be mistaken. Maybe if he hurried he could catch them and give the bairn back.
“She hasnae been here for well over a year.” She took her bucket and began to walk away from him.
“Will I see ye at the postern gate?” he asked, knowing deep in his heart what the answer would be.
She turned on her heel and came back, one finger poking him right in the chest, “Ye are a daft fool if ye think that I, or any lass here would ever meet ye again.” She turned back and was soon out of sight.
He hurried towards the gates, his eyes scanning the many people going about their daily chores, coming and going through the gate. He couldn’t find them.