Chapter 6
Chapter Six
T ime travel. Actual, honest-to-goodness time travel. The kind of thing that happened in movies or books, not to practical, analytical women from Atlanta who worked for dating apps. Kate stared at the ceiling, trying to make sense of her situation.
A soft knock interrupted her thoughts. The door opened to reveal an older woman with iron-gray hair pulled back in a severe bun. Her face was weathered but kind, with deep lines around her eyes that suggested she laughed often.
“Ah, ye’re awake,” she said, bustling into the room with a bundle of fabric in her arms. “I’m Nessa. I tend to the household here at Bronmuir.”
“Kate Adams,” Kate replied automatically, pushing herself to a sitting position. Her head still throbbed dully, but the dizziness had passed. “Thank you for taking care of me.”
Nessa set the bundle on the foot of the bed. “The laird would like ye to join him when ye’re dressed. I’ve brought ye some proper clothes.” She eyed Kate’s jeans and sweatshirt with undisguised curiosity. “Though I’ve never seen the like of what ye’re wearing. Is that how all lasses dress in the colonies?”
“Not exactly,” Kate hedged. “It’s, um, practical for traveling.”
Nessa made a noncommittal sound, the look on her face suggesting that Kate might as well run around naked. “Well, ye’ll want something more... suitable. Here.”
She shook out the bundle, revealing a simple linen shift, a woolen dress in a faded blue, and various other items Kate couldn’t immediately identify.
“I can dress myself,” Kate said quickly when Nessa moved to help her.
The older woman raised an eyebrow. “As ye wish. Though ye’ll need help with the laces.”
Left alone, she examined the clothing with growing dismay. No zippers, no buttons, just laces and ties.
With a shrug, she popped the last two Life Savers candy in her mouth and tossed the telltale wrapper in the fire in the hearth.
The shift was straightforward enough, a simple linen garment that slipped over her head. The stockings were thin and delicate, requiring care as she rolled them up her legs, and the leather shoes pinched uncomfortably at the toes. The dress, however, was another matter. After several minutes of struggling, she had to concede defeat.
When Nessa returned, she didn’t comment on Kate’s failure, just efficiently helped her into the dress, tightening the laces at the back.
“There now,” Nessa said, stepping back to survey her work. “Ye’ll do. The dress is a bit large, but it will serve until we can make ye something proper.”
Kate looked down at herself. The dress was indeed loose, hanging awkwardly on her frame, but it was clean and warm. The woolen fabric was rougher than anything she’d ever worn, scratching slightly against her skin. She went to the ceramic washbasin on a nearby stool that was filled with cool water, splashing her face before undoing her braid, and running a wooden comb through her tangled hair. With practiced fingers, she wove her dark strands back into a simple braid, though a few wisps refused to stay put.
“Um,” Kate stammered, her cheeks flushing. “Is there a... bathroom I could use?”
Nessa’s brow furrowed in confusion before understanding dawned on her face.
“Ah, the privy. Follow me.”
She led Kate down a narrow stone corridor to a small chamber jutting from the keep’s outer wall. A wooden bench with a hole cut into it stretched across the space, positioned over a deep shaft that dropped straight down the castle wall.
The room was cold and drafty, with only a narrow slit window providing dim light. A bucket of ash sat in the corner, used in place of modern paper.
The pungent smell made Kate’s nose wrinkle, but she quickly did her business and hoped she’d find her way home soon. Back to hot showers and running water, not to mention electricity.
Emerging from the privy, she found Nessa waiting. “Thank you,” she said, surprised by how genuine the words felt. “I appreciate your kindness.”
Nessa’s expression softened slightly. “Ye’ve had a shock, that much is clear. The laird wishes to speak with ye now, if ye’re able.”
Kate nodded, fighting down a flicker of nervousness. Connor had been intimidating enough the first time she’d encountered him.
But what choice did she have?
The woman bustled down stone corridors lit by torches and the occasional narrow window. The castle was a maze of passageways, stairs, and small rooms, all built of the same solid gray stone. With a jolt, Kate realized to these people the castle was simply home, not a tourist attraction.
They descended a narrow spiral staircase and emerged into a large hall. A fire roared in a massive hearth at one end, filling the space with warmth and flickering light. It might be June, but it was cold inside the stone keep. Then again, she was used to the heavy humid air of Atlanta.
Long wooden tables lined the sides of the room, though they were empty now. At the far end, on a slightly raised dais, sat a single chair, currently occupied by the man himself, Connor MacLeod.
He was speaking to a young man who stood beside the chair, gesturing with one hand as he made some point. The young man nodded, then noticed their approach and murmured something to Connor, who looked up.
Those intense blue eyes fixed on her, and she felt a strange flutter in her stomach that had nothing to do with fear. In the better light of the hall, she could see him more clearly. His dark hair was pulled back from his face, revealing strong features that seemed carved from stone. He wore a linen shirt open at the throat and the same plaid draped over one shoulder that she’d seen earlier. A sword hung at his side, an actual, honest-to-goodness sword.
“Leave us,” he said to the young man, who nodded and retreated to the far end of the hall. “Nessa, wait nearby. The lass may have need of ye.”
Nessa curtseyed slightly and withdrew, leaving Kate standing alone before the dais.
For a long moment, he simply studied her, his expression unreadable. Kate forced herself to meet his gaze steadily, though her heart was hammering in her chest.
“Ye look more yourself,” he said finally. “The clothes suit ye.”
“Thank you,” Kate replied, unsure if it was actually a compliment. “And thank you for your hospitality.”
Connor leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. “Now, perhaps ye can tell me who ye truly are and how ye came to be in my graveyard.”
Kate swallowed hard. She’d been thinking about this since waking. What could she possibly say that wouldn’t sound insane?
“My name is Kate Adams,” she began, sticking to the truth as much as possible. “I’m from... the colonies, as you said. I was traveling when I was separated from my companions.”
Connor’s expression didn’t change, but something in his eyes suggested he didn’t believe her. “And how did ye come to be alone, without guardsmen, a companion, provisions or proper clothing, wandering in MacLeod territory?”
“I got lost,” Kate said, which was true enough. “I don’t remember exactly how I ended up in your cemetery. I think I might have hit my head.”
“Ye were wearing the strangest garments I’ve ever seen,” Connor observed. “Not the dress of any colony I know of.”
Kate’s mind raced. “They’re... practical for travel. Where I’m from, women dress differently.”
“Indeed.” Connor’s tone was dry. “And where exactly is that? Which colony?”
“Massachusetts,” Kate said, the first colonial name that came to mind. “Near Boston.”
Connor nodded slowly. “And what brought ye to Scotland? A woman traveling alone is most unusual.”
“I wasn’t alone,” Kate insisted. “I was with... friends. We were separated in the storm.” The lies were piling up, but what choice did she have?
“A storm,” Connor repeated. “Yet we’ve had fair weather these past days, and no word of any ship foundering on our shores.”
Heat crept up her neck. “I don’t know what to tell you. I was traveling, there was a storm, and then I woke up in your cemetery.”
Connor stood suddenly, descending the two steps from the dais to stand directly before her. He was even taller than she’d realized, towering over her by nearly a foot.
“Ye’re hiding something,” he said, voice low and intense. “I can see it in your eyes. What is it ye’re not telling me?”
Kate took an involuntary step backward. “I’ve told you everything I can.”
It wasn’t a direct lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth, either. How could she tell him she was from the future? That in his time, his castle was a ruin, and he had been dead for centuries?
Connor’s eyes narrowed. “Are ye a spy? Sent by the MacDonalds or the McKinnons?”
“What? No!” Kate exclaimed, genuinely shocked. “I don’t even know who those people are!” Well, she did know a rat with the last name MacDonald, who was from Skye… damn the cheating, lying bastard to hell.
“They’re rival clans,” Connor said shortly. “And we’re in the midst of troubled times. King James flees while William and Mary take the throne. The Highlands are divided in their loyalties.” He paused, studying her reaction. “And what of the war? The French and their Indian allies have been causing trouble in the colonies for years now. Surely ye’ve felt its effects?”
Kate’s mind went blank. War with the French in America? Around the late sixteen hundreds? She cursed herself for texting through history classes, preferring to analyze relationship patterns in literature instead of memorizing dates and conflicts.
“I... my family lives in the countryside far from the fighting,” she stammered, hoping her answer was plausible.
Connor’s expression hardened. “Strange that a colonial woman would be unaware of a conflict that threatens her homeland.” He stepped closer, his voice dropping. “I think ye’re not who ye claim to be at all.”
“I’m not a spy,” she insisted, her heart racing. “I’m just... lost.”
Connor studied her face for a long moment, seeming to weigh her words. Finally, he stepped back.
“I don’t believe you’re telling me everything,” he said, “but I don’t think ye’re a spy either. Ye lack the guile for it.”
She wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or offended.
“For now, ye’ll remain at Bronmuir as my guest,” Connor continued. “Until we can determine the truth of your story and find a way to return ye to your people. If they truly exist?”
“They exist,” Kate said firmly, though of course they wouldn’t be born for centuries. Her parents and sister wouldn’t be worried yet. They knew she’d gone to Scotland, so they wouldn’t expect to hear from her until she returned. But when she didn’t... they would be frantic. She swallowed hard. Not the time to worry about something you can’t do anything about , she told herself. Figure out how to get home first.
Connor’s mouth quirked in what might have been the ghost of a smile. “We shall see. In the meantime, ye’ll be given quarters and clothes, and the freedom of the keep, under supervision, of course.”
“You’re keeping me prisoner?” Kate asked, her voice rising slightly.
“I’m offering ye shelter and protection,” Connor corrected. “Would you prefer I turn ye out to fend for yerself? A woman alone in the Highlands wouldn’t last a day.”
He had a point, and she knew it. Whatever had happened to her, however she had ended up here, Bronmuir Keep was probably the safest place for her at the moment.
“No,” she conceded. “Thank you for your... hospitality.”
Connor nodded, apparently satisfied. “Ye’ll dine with me tonight. Perhaps with food and wine, you will remember more about how ye came to be here.”
It wasn’t a request, and Kate didn’t treat it as one. “Of course.”
“Nessa,” he called, and the older woman reappeared from wherever she had been waiting. “Show Mistress Adams to the east chamber and see that she has everything she needs.”
“Aye,” Nessa said, with a small curtsey.
“Until tonight,” Connor said to her, inclining his head slightly before turning back to talk to two men that had approached from the right.
Dismissed, Kate followed Nessa from the hall, feeling the gaze of the people on her back the entire way.
The east chamber proved to be a smaller room than she’d spent the night in, but it looked comfortable with a narrow bed, a chest, chair, and a small table. A tiny window looked out over the courtyard, offering a glimpse of the bustling life of the castle below.
“The room you were in last night is for guests. This will be yer chamber while ye’re here,” Nessa said, gesturing around the room.
“There’s water in the pitcher for washing, and I’ll see to clothes later.” The woman paused. “It would be best to put your... your traveling garments in the chest here by the bed. People talk.”
She got it. Rarely were women who were deemed different treated well in the past, that much had stuck from ancient history classes.
“Thank you,” Kate said, sinking into the bed. “Nessa... What’s happening? With the king, I mean. Connor mentioned something about it.”
Nessa’s expression grew guarded. “Ye truly don’t know? Where have ye been these past months?”
“I’ve been... in the colonies. News travels slowly,” Kate said lamely. “Please, I’d like to understand.”
The housekeeper sighed. “King James fled to France last year, and William and Mary were crowned in his place. But many in the Highlands remain loyal to James, especially those of the Catholic faith. There’s unrest throughout Scotland.”
“And the MacLeods? Where do they stand?”
“They have not declared for one side or the other as of yet, but they will declare for James, I’m sure of it. The laird’s father, Hamish, was murdered by the MacDonalds three months past.” Nessa’s voice dropped to a near whisper. “Ambushed while returning from a neighboring clan gathering. ’Twas a cowardly act, even for those treacherous dogs.”
“I’m sorry,” Kate said, genuinely sympathetic. “That must be difficult for Connor.”
Nessa gave her a sharp look. “Ye speak familiarly of the laird.”
“I didn’t mean to,” Kate said quickly. “I just... he told me his name.”
“He is Laird MacLeod or Himself to ye,” Nessa corrected, though her tone was gentle. “Mind yer place, lass. You’re a stranger here, and these are dangerous times.”
She nodded, chastened, making a mental note to pay attention and try to fit in. “I understand. Thank you for explaining.”
The woman seemed to soften slightly. “Ye seem a decent enough lass, despite your strange ways. Rest now, ye’re pale as the moon and need sleep. I’ll return to fetch ye for supper.”
Left alone, she moved to the window, looking out at the courtyard below. Men and women moved about their daily tasks. Carrying water from the well, tending to livestock, mending tools. It was like watching a living history exhibit, except this was real. These people weren’t actors though, they were simply living their lives. 1689. It was crazy, but here she was.
Kate touched the spot where the brooch had been. Without it, how could she possibly get back to her own time? Would standing on the stone at the chapel work without the brooch?
A wave of despair washed over her. What if she was stuck here forever? No electricity, no running water, no antibiotics, none of the comforts and safety nets of modern life. Just endless days of scratchy wool dresses and suspicious glances from a man who was supposed to be long dead. A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts.
“Come in,” she called, turning from the window.
A young woman entered, carrying a basin of steaming water. She was perhaps thirteen or fourteen, with a freckled face and red hair tucked under a simple cap.
“For washing, mistress,” she said, bobbing a curtsey as she set the basin on the table. “Mistress Nessa sent me to see if ye needed aught else.”
“No, thank you,” Kate said, smiling at the girl. “What’s your name?”
“Aileen, mistress,” the girl replied, looking surprised at being asked. “I’m one of the kitchen maids.”
“Thank you, Aileen,” Kate said warmly.
The girl curtseyed again and turned to go, then paused at the door. “Is it true what they’re saying? That ye fell from the sky into the graveyard?”
Kate suppressed a smile. “Not exactly. I got lost and ended up there.”
Aileen looked disappointed. “Oh. Well, that’s not nearly as exciting as what Rob’s been telling everyone.”
“Who’s Rob?”
“One of the stable lads. He says ye’re a fairy woman come to grant the laird a wish.” Aileen’s eyes widened. “Are ye?”
“No,” Kate said firmly. “I’m just a lost traveler.”
Aileen looked skeptical, but nodded. “If ye say so, mistress. Supper will be served at sunset. Nessa will come for ye.”
After the girl left, she sank back onto the bed, laughing despite herself. A fairy woman? Well, it was better than being accused of witchcraft, which she’d half-expected and seriously was no laughing matter. Women didn’t speak their minds, so she’d have to be careful in what she said and did in order to fit in.
Her amusement faded as she considered her situation. She was trapped in 1689 Scotland with no clear way home, dependent on the goodwill of a man who clearly didn’t trust her. And if what she remembered from that guidebook was true, Himself was living on borrowed time.
Unless, of course, history could be changed.
The thought sent a chill down Kate’s spine. What if her presence here already was changing things? What if every word she spoke, every action she took, altered the course of events?
And if that were true, could she save Connor from his fate?
The question lingered in her mind as she washed, dipping the rag in the basin of warm water, trying to prepare herself for whatever the evening might bring. One thing was certain, dinner with the laird promised to be anything but dull.