Chapter 24
Abby couldn’t believe she was saying yes to marriage, saying yes to marriage with a laird of all things.
But could she stay in eighteenth-century Scotland?
Should she even be contemplating it? It was one thing to say yes to spending the rest of her life being loved by her Highlander, but quite another to live the rest of her days in what to her felt like prehistoric times.
She wanted to stay in his arms, but she knew she would have to face her siblings sooner or later. “Iain, can I have some time with my family? I think we need to talk.”
He kissed the top of her head. “Aye. I need to talk to my family also.”
Once he’d left, Max, Izzy, and Garrett all began to talk at once. Abby let them go on for a moment, and then said, “Be quiet and let me speak.”
Max stepped between Izzy and Garrett and hit them on their arms. “Let her speak.”
“Thanks,” Abby said, and went on to tell them all that had happened to her since arriving in eighteenth-century Scotland.
Once she’d finished, she said, “And I’m in love with Iain, and I want to stay and marry him.”
“No,” Garrett said, and they all stared at him.
“You can’t stay here. You’ve seen the brutality of this time.
” He waved a hand in the air. “And there are other things to think about. Your health, for one. What if you get sick? Are you going to let them bleed you with leeches? Give you laudanum? For Pete’s sake, it’s opium. ”
Abby shushed him with her finger on her lips. “Keep your voice down. The whole castle will hear you.”
“I don’t want you to stay here,” Izzy said.
“Nor do I,” Max said.
“Good, then that’s settled,” Garrett said. “Grab the orb, Abby, and let’s go.”
Abby plonked down on the side of the bed and rubbed her face. “Don’t say anything else. Just let me think.”
Tears filled her eyes. What was she to do?
She couldn’t just leave Iain moments after accepting his marriage proposal.
A thought hit her, then. If he loved her as much as she did him, would he go back with her?
But could she ask that of him? The thought of not having him in her life was just too much to bear, and she decided she could definitely ask him.
***
Iain sat at his writing and planning table in the solar, waiting for Jannet, Maeve, and his most trusted guards, Donal and Callum. They had to accept and protect Abigail if she stayed and married him.
His heart sank with the realization that Abigail’s family had come to take her away from him.
They would be persuading and cajoling her into returning to their time with them right at that minute.
Iain hoped she would tell him of her decision if it came to that and not just leave the castle, leave him.
Jannet arrived first, and she had a small box in her arms that she set down at the end of the table. “Och, ye have more guests.”
“How do ye know that?”
“I can hear.” She gave Iain a small smile and a look that said she knew a lot more than Iain had ever thought.
Iain frowned. Had she been listening at the bedroom door?
Maeve entered, with Donal and Callum a few steps behind her. All three eyed Jannet warily, and Iain had to choke back a laugh. He could almost hear their brains turning. Did Jannet tell him something they would have preferred him not to hear?
Iain stood up, went to the door, and told the guard there to fetch wine and cups. Once they were filled and handed to his four guests, he took a cup, bid the guard leave with a nod, and returned to sit behind the desk.
He raised his chalice. “A toast.”
Everyone put their cups in the air.
Iain continued. “To the MacLarens and all others who abide here. May we survive the English onslaught and drive them from our lands.”
“Aye,” voices called out in unison.
Donal sat beside Iain, and Callum dragged a chair to the desk.
“Your lassie is a strange one,” Callum said.
“Aye,” Maeve said. “I have questions aboot that one.”
Iain raised his brows and shot a glance to Jannet. “Questions?”
“Aye. The servants are talking. They say she is like a witch.”
“She is not a witch. An angel, perhaps, but not a witch.”
“I said they say she is like a witch, but without a witch’s powers or standing.”
“Explain.”
“She speaks strangely.” At Iain’s opening of his mouth to say something, Maeve continued. “Yes, you said she was from the Americas, but I know people who have traveled there and back. They still speak as we speak mostly. I would not take them as not belonging in our world.”
“Our world?”
Donal coughed. “She means that if she were a witch, she would not be of our world but of some magical place.”
Smiling at Donal, Maeve placed her hand on Iain’s arm.
“Aye. And she walks strangely. She looks like she has never worn skirts before. She is always hitching the hems up and letting her legs walk freely. She has a strange aspect. I don’t know what it is.
” She tilted her head and thought for a moment.
“Her skin is smooth, but there’s something aboot her eyes.
” She let out an impatient huff. “Oh, I don’t know. ”
“Aye,” Callum said. “It is her eyebrows. They are shaped strangely, are they not?”
“Aye,” Maeve said. “Callum has the right of it. They make her whole face, ah, not wrong . . . different.”
“Beautiful,” Donal said.
Callum nodded his head. “Aye.”
Iain let out a growl at their enraptured faces.
“That is enough, ye two.” He rubbed his now clean-shaven chin, missing the feel of his beard’s bristles.
Studying his sister and the two men he had known since they were all babes in arms—the two men he trusted above all others—he wondered if he should tell them.
His gaze drifted to Jannet. She nodded in encouragement.
Iain returned his attention to the three he loved above all else. Perhaps they could dispel the gossip.
Donal and Callum exchanged questioning glances over the rims of their cups.
Maeve narrowed her eyes. “What is it that is so secret you have to tell us behind closed doors?”
Iain steepled his hands under his chin. “What I am aboot to tell you will not leave this room.” Maeve bit her cheek, as she was wont to do when asked to do something she didn’t like. “You are not to tell a soul, Maeve, not even your maidservant.”
“But Leah and I are friends. We share all together.”
“Not this time, love. Please give me your word.”
She glanced at Donal, who gave a slight nod. Iain stopped the smile from forming on his lips. Donal had always been the eldest, the one Maeve would call if she couldn’t get her way with Iain. He would champion her side more times than not.
Plopping back on the settee, Maeve nodded. “Aye, you have my word.”
Iain stood up and walked around to the front of the table. “Abigail is not from our time. Wait. No talking until I am finished.” He waited until they had stopped gazing at one another with skeptical faces. “She is from the future. That is why she talks, walks, and appears different.”
Maeve folded her arms across her chest and humphed. “That is the silliest thing I have ever heard.”
Donal rose and placed his arm on Iain’s shoulder. “Ye really believe that?”
“Aye. I’ve been with her for weeks . . .” He frowned. “I am not sure, it could have been months. I was dying, and she saved my life. If it weren’t for her, I would still be on the battlefield, dead.”
He went on and explained about her time device. Fielding questions, he answered what he could about her time, but suggested if they had any questions, they should ask her themselves. “But make certain ye are no’ overheard,” he said.
Letting out a laugh, Donal said, “If she is from the future, she knows how we fare in the next battle.”
“No. She knows history, but not all battles were written aboot, and much of Scotland’s ballads and tales were never written.
Also, remember, if Abigail hadn’t appeared on the moors that day, I would have died, and Sir Thomas and his army would not have known I was alive.
With her arrival, the future was already changed. ”
After he finished, Callum threw back his head and laughed, nearly choking on his own mirth. “Perhaps, then, she should not have saved your skin, and then the keep and lands here would have been safe from the hands of the Sassenachs.”
Leaping to her feet and thumping Callum on his head, Maeve snarled, “How can ye say such a thing? Ye would prefer to see Iain dead? For him not to have come back to us?” Tears filled her eyes as she turned to Iain.
“I will try to get to know your future lass.” She threw herself into his arms. “I am thankful she brought ye home, brother of mine.”
Callum got up, and both he and Donal slapped Iain on the back. “Aye,” Callum said. “I am looking forward to killing the beasts who tried to kill our laird. You have my loyalty in this thing and in any battle.”
“Thank you, Callum. I know I do.” Iain grinned.
“But I cannae believe the lass is from the future. Mayhap she is, ah . . .”
“Ye mean mad?” Donal said. “Aye, my laird, I know ye have been smitten with the lass, but she cannae be from the future. ’Tis impossible.”
“Not impossible,” Jannet said.
Everyone watched her stand up and move to the desk as if they had forgotten she was even there.
She pulled a framed picture out of the box. It was an image of Mark and Dianne. “Do ye remember these people?”
Donal and Callum nodded.
“I do,” Maeve said. “They were Father’s dearest friends.” She tilted her head and gazed at the picture and smiled. “Dianne always had wee sweet treats for me.” She looked at Jannet. “They were different too.”
“Aye,” Jannet said. “They were from the future. In fact, they were Abigail’s parents.”
Donal asked, “Were?”
“Aye.” Jannet gazed at the picture, tears filling her eyes. “They willna be returning to Dorpol again.”
Maeve put her hand over her mouth. “They are dead?” Jannet nodded. “Does Abigail know this?”
“Aye,” Iain said.
Maeve frowned.
“What?” Iain asked.