Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
T wo weeks. She’d been stuck in the past for a little over two weeks. Kate wasn’t going to lie, it had been difficult, especially for someone who was used to speaking her mind. But as the days passed, she found herself growing accustomed to the rhythm of life in the late seventeenth century, though “accustomed” was perhaps too strong a word. “Less shocked” might be more accurate.
It might be mid June but with the clouds, every other day rain, and wind off the ocean, it was cold. If she had to guess, she’d say it was in the mid-fifties. Nessa had three dresses and underthings made for her. Today, Aileen had helped her put on the simple linen shift and a woolen kirtle in a deep forest green that laced up the front. The fabrics were rougher than anything she’d worn before, but she had to admit they were surprisingly comfortable. And warm, which was essential in a stone castle that sat on a cliff by the ocean.
When she descended the narrow spiral staircase, Kate found the hall bustling with activity. Women carried baskets of freshly baked bread, men discussed the day’s tasks, and children darted between them, somehow avoiding a collision through some sixth sense Kate couldn’t fathom.
“Ah, there you are,” called a serving woman, waving her over. The woman was directing a group of younger girls in setting up trestle tables. “Sleep well, did ye?”
“Surprisingly, yes,” Kate answered, which was mostly true. The bed, a straw-filled mattress on a wooden frame, was nothing like her memory foam at home, but exhaustion had been an effective sedative.
“Would you help with the bread?” the servant asked, gesturing to where several women were slicing thick loaves.
Kate nodded, grateful for something to do. Standing around feeling useless wasn’t her style, and keeping busy helped distract her from the impossible situation she found herself in.
As she worked alongside the women, Kate listened to their conversation, picking up fragments about clan matters. They spoke in a mix of Gaelic and heavily accented English, switching between the two to include her in the conversation.
“... third raid this month...”
“... poor Hamish, God rest him...”
“... the laird carries too much on his shoulders now...”
A younger woman, Bonnie, sighed heavily. “My cousin says the MacDonalds are demanding twice the usual tribute for Cameron’s return.”
“Aye, and that’s not all,” added a woman with fiery red hair, leaning in closer. “I heard they want the MacLeod Brooch itself. They say they’ll exchange him for it and a pledge of allegiance to King James.”
Gasps erupted from the circle of women, their hands momentarily stilling on their work.
“The brooch?” another woman scoffed, though Kate noticed her face had paled slightly. “Dougal MacDonald reaches too far. No MacLeod would ever surrender such a treasure.”
“What brooch?” Kate asked, curious about their reaction. “What does it look like?”
Could it be the same one the old woman had given her?
The women exchanged glances, and an uncomfortable silence fell over the group.
“’Tis just an old family heirloom,” the woman said dismissively, returning to her mending with renewed vigor. “Nothing that would interest an outlander such as yourself.”
Nessa cleared her throat. “Enough gossip for one day. These linens won’t mend themselves.”
Kate nodded, but her thoughts were scattered. She needed to see it for herself. If the stones in the brooch matched the one she’d been given in the cemetery, perhaps it might hold the key to sending her back to her own time. Kate made a silent resolution. Somehow, she would find a way to get her hands on the brooch.
Instead of asking more about the brooch, she focused on cutting even slices of bread. It was harder than it looked.
Nessa appeared at Kate’s side, startling her. “You’re doing that wrong,” she said bluntly.
“What’s wrong with it?” Kate looked down at the bread she’d been slicing.
“Too thin. We’re not feeding birds here.” Nessa took the knife and demonstrated, cutting pieces nearly twice as thick as Kate’s. “Like this.”
“Right. Sorry.” She took the knife back, mimicking Nessa’s technique.
As the morning progressed, Kate found herself assigned to increasingly simple tasks, which she suspected was due to her obvious incompetence at most household chores. By midday, she was relegated to carrying water from the well. Physical labor, but requiring minimal skill.
On her third trip back with filled buckets, she nearly collided with Connor as he strode into the courtyard.
“Careful,” he said, steadying her with a hand on her arm.
The touch sent an unexpected jolt through her, and water sloshed over the rim of one bucket. She stepped back quickly. “Sorry. I didn’t see you.”
Connor eyed the buckets. “Nessa has put you to work, I see.”
“I volunteered,” she said, which wasn’t entirely true, but sounded better than admitting she’d been demoted to water carrier after proving useless at everything else.
A hint of amusement crossed his face. “Did you, now?”
“I don’t like sitting idle.” Kate shifted the buckets, which were growing heavier by the second. “And I thought it might help me... fit in.”
Connor studied her for a moment. “Walk with me,” he said abruptly. “After you’ve delivered the water.”
It wasn’t quite a command, but it wasn’t exactly a request either. Kate nodded and continued toward the kitchens, wondering what he wanted to discuss.
When she returned to the courtyard, Connor was waiting, his tall figure silhouetted against the stone archway, muscled arms on display. He gestured for her to follow him, and they walked in silence until they reached a small garden tucked against the inner wall of the keep. It was a humble space, with hardy herbs and a few flowers, but it offered a measure of privacy.
“You’ve been asking questions,” Connor said without preamble.
Kate tensed. “I’ve been trying to understand where I am. Is that a problem?”
“It depends on what you’re trying to understand.” Connor’s gaze was direct, assessing. “My people say you’re curious about our troubles with the MacDonalds. About my brother.”
She sighed. Of course, the women had reported her eavesdropping. “I wasn’t prying. Not intentionally. People talk, and I listen.”
“Why does it interest you?”
“Because I’m here,” Kate said simply. “Because whatever’s happening affects everyone in this keep, including me, for as long as I’m stuck here. And because—” She hesitated.
“Because?” He prompted.
“Because you look exhausted,” Kate finished honestly. “And I’m guessing it has something to do with these troubles I keep hearing about.”
His expression softened slightly. He gestured to a stone bench, and they both sat, careful to keep a distance between them.
“The clan has faced... difficulties in recent months,” he said after a moment. “My father was murdered this spring. Cut down by MacDonald steel while defending our lands.”
“I’m sorry,” Kate said quietly.
Connor acknowledged this with a slight nod. “The leadership should have fallen to my older brother Cameron, who had been groomed for it his entire life. But he was captured during a border skirmish with the MacDonalds just a fortnight after our father’s death.”
“They’re holding him for ransom?”
“Aye. A sum we cannot easily pay, especially after a poor harvest.” Connor’s jaw tightened. “And my youngest brother, Brodie, who might have helped negotiate, has been missing these five months past. The MacDonalds demand more than just gold. They want allegiances declared in matters where choosing any side means making powerful enemies.”
Kate absorbed this. “Missing how?”
“He said he was going to see about a horse. He never returned.” Connor’s voice was controlled, but Kate could hear the strain beneath it. “Then we received word he was in Edinburgh, but after that... nothing.”
“That’s a lot to deal with all at once,” Kate said, understanding better now the weight she’d seen in his eyes.
Connor gave a humorless laugh. “And you haven’t even heard about my sister yet.”
“Elspeth?” Kate asked, remembering a name she’d caught in the women’s conversations.
His eyebrows rose slightly. “You have been listening carefully.”
She shrugged. “It’s a habit. I’m a researcher by profession.”
“And what exactly do you research?”
“People,” she answered, then added with a touch of irony, “I specialize in conflict resolution and difficult personalities. Which is proving more useful than I expected.”
That earned her a brief smile before Connor’s expression sobered again. “Elspeth is another... complication. She eloped six months ago with a MacKenzie man. Against my father’s wishes.”
“I take it that’s a problem because...?”
“The MacKenzies have been our rivals for generations,” Connor explained. “Not enemies, precisely, but not allies, either. My father forbade the match. Elspeth defied him.”
“And now?”
“Now she lives with her husband’s clan, and my father went to his grave unreconciled with his only daughter.”
Connor’s voice held a complex mix of anger and regret.
“She hasn’t returned, not even for his funeral.”
Kate considered this. “Have you invited her back?”
He looked at her sharply. “It’s not that simple.”
“Isn’t it?” She challenged gently. “She’s your sister.”
“She made her choice.” His tone made it clear the subject was closed.
They sat in silence for a moment, the summer breeze rustling the herbs around them. A question had been forming in Kate’s mind since her arrival, and now seemed as good a time as any to ask it.
“Connor, the old graveyard, where you found me...”
He looked at her with sudden suspicion. “Aye, by the ruins of the chapel. What about it?”
She chose her words carefully. “I’m trying to understand how I got here. The last thing I remember before waking up in your arms was being in that graveyard.”
Connor studied her for a long moment, rubbing the stubble on his cheek. “It’s not far, just beyond that rise.”
“I’d like to visit,” Kate said. “Maybe it would help me remember something.”
“It’s not safe for you to wander alone.”
“I’m not asking to go alone. I’m asking for permission to go with an escort, if necessary.”
He considered this, then nodded slowly. “I can spare a man to accompany ye tomorrow, if the weather holds.”
“Thank you.” Kate felt a surge of hope. If she could find the flat stone with the spiral at the chapel, find the old woman... ask if her brooch was the same as Connor’s brooch...
“Don’t thank me yet,” he said, rising from the bench. “The path isn’t easy, and I’m not convinced you’ll find what ye’re looking for.”
Kate stood as well. “I have to try.”
Something in her voice must have conveyed her determination, because Connor’s expression softened. “Aye, I suppose you do.” He hesitated, then added, “We all seek our way home, one way or another.”
The simple statement, tinged with his own longing, caught at her heart. For a moment, they stood looking at each other, an unexpected connection forming between them.
Then he cleared his throat and stepped back. “I should return to my duties. And the cook will be wondering where her water carrier has disappeared to.”
Kate smiled. “I’m probably promoted to vegetable peeler by now.”
“A prestigious position,” Connor said, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Don’t let the power go to your head.”
The small joke surprised her, and Kate laughed. “I’ll try to stay humble.”
* * *
The next morning dawned clear and cold. Kate dressed quickly in the warmest clothes Nessa had provided, including a woolen cloak that smelled faintly of heather and smoke.
Connor was waiting in the courtyard with a stocky, middle-aged man whose beard was more gray than brown.
“This is Fergus,” Connor said. “He’ll accompany you to the old graveyard and back. He knows the path well.”
Fergus nodded to her, his expression neutral. “We should be off soon, if we’re to return before dark.”
“I’m ready,” Kate assured him, trying to contain her eagerness.
He handed her a small bundle. “Some food for midday,” he explained. “The path is longer than you might expect.”
Their fingers brushed during the exchange, and she felt that same strange jolt as yesterday. She quickly tucked the bundle into the pouch at her waist. “Thank you.”
“Fergus will keep you safe,” Connor said, his eyes serious. “But stay close to him, and return directly. The weather can change quickly this time of year.”
Kate nodded. “I will.”
As they set out through the gate, she glanced back to see him watching them, his tall figure silhouetted against the stone walls of the keep. He raised a hand in farewell, and she returned the gesture before turning to follow Fergus down the path.
The journey took longer than Kate had anticipated. What had seemed like a short distance when she was lost and confused turned out to be a winding route through hills and over streams. Fergus was not much of a talker, answering her occasional questions with grunts or single words, which suited her fine. She was too busy planning what she would do when they reached the graveyard.
Find the stone with the strange spiral marking. Look for the old woman. Go home.
By the time the ancient stone walls of the graveyard came into view, Kate’s heart was pounding with anticipation. This was it. Her chance to find answers. To go home to her own time.
As they entered through the gate, her heart lifted slightly at the sight, though it was still jarring to see everything so different from her first visit. The stone markers stood proud and new, their inscriptions sharp and clear in the fresh-cut stone. The chapel was whole, its walls solid and roof intact. It was a far cry from the crumbling ruins she remembered from her own time.
She searched systematically, walking up and down the rows while Fergus watched from the shade of an old yew tree. Many of the inscriptions she could read were in Gaelic or Latin, the letters crisp as if newly carved.
She hesitated, but there was no stone in front of the door as she stepped inside the chapel, marveling at how different it was from when she’d first seen it in her own time.
Instead of scattered stones and stubborn weeds, the floor was smooth though there was an air of neglect about the place. The walls reached up to meet a sturdy timber roof, and pale light filtered through the windows.
“Looking for something specific?” Fergus asked, speaking more words at once than he had all morning.
“I’m not sure.” Kate shook her head. “It’s so beautiful. Why isn’t the chapel used? We had services at the keep on Sunday.” Kate asked, noting the thin layer of dust on the altar.
Fergus shifted uncomfortably. “Too exposed. After the MacDonalds started their raids, the laird moved services to the keep’s chapel. Safer that way.” He crossed himself. “Though some say it’s bad luck to abandon God’s house.”
Kate ran her fingers along the worn stone of a window ledge. “It seems wrong, letting it stand empty.”
“Aye, well, better empty than filled with MacDonald warriors lying in wait.” Fergus’s voice held a bitter edge. “They’ve used holy ground for ambush before.”
That explained Connor’s insistence on an escort. She made one final circuit of the chapel, searching for any sign of the spiral stone or the mysterious old woman, but didn’t find anything. No woman waiting in the shadows, no magical brooch hidden in a corner. No spiral markings anywhere. Just dust, silence, and the weight of centuries pressing down on her.
As they made their way back to the keep, Kate scrutinized every woman they passed on the road, but not a single one was the ancient figure she remembered. She was no closer to finding her way home than she had been a little over two weeks ago.
The sun was setting by the time they returned, painting the sky in shades of purple and gold. Connor stood at the gate, his expression revealing nothing as they approached.
“Find what you were looking for?” he asked as she passed through the gate.
She shook her head, feeling the weight of disappointment settle over her. “No. But thank you for letting me try.”
His eyes softened slightly. “Sometimes,” he said quietly, “what we’re looking for isn’t where we left it.”
She wasn’t sure if he was trying to offer comfort or warning her against future searches. Either way, she was too tired to puzzle it out now. She nodded her thanks and headed inside, leaving Connor and Fergus to discuss whatever men discussed in the gathering darkness.
That night, as she lay in her narrow bed listening to the wind howl outside her window, Kate faced an uncomfortable truth. What if she was stuck here forever? The old woman, the brooch, the magical stone. None of them seemed to exist anymore.
The thought of being stuck here should have terrified her. Instead, she found herself wondering what Connor had meant about things not being where we left them.