Chapter 5
T hey rode through an achingly familiar landscape. Brigid knew these hills well from her own time, and the differences were subtle yet poignant. Her heart ached as she thought of home. Had her parents ever arrived, and found her missing? Her brothers must be frantic with worry by now - she’d been gone all night. Would they have contacted the police?
Still, it was hard to feel afraid when the landscape was so beautiful, and so much like home. And when Sandy sat so close behind her, his strong arms wrapped around her.
When a fairy tale castle appeared on the horizon, Brigid couldn’t help but gasp.
“What is this place?” she asked breathlessly. She didn’t recognise it at all from her own time.
“This is Gillies Tower,” Sandy said proudly, his voice rumbling in his chest. “And I am the Laird of Gillies Tower.”
Brigid’s eyes widened.
“What a wonderful place to call home,” she said, drinking in the thick stone walls and soaring turrets.
“And where do you call home?” he asked.
“An old farmhouse,” Brigid said, hoping he would not push any further. She could hardly tell him the full truth. And their home had been a farmhouse, once.
“Are both your parents English?” he asked. “Your accent would certainly suggest it.”
“No, my father is Scottish,” she said, silently cursing his inquisitiveness. “But you would not know of him.”
Behind her, Sandy sighed. She could almost feel him fumbling for another question. Please stop asking . Weren’t two questions enough?
“What about this man you are supposed to marry?” he asked at last. “Is he English?”
At last, a question Brigid could answer at length.
“Yes, he is,” she said. “His name is Finn, and he really is the most wonderful man I’ve ever met. So cultured and sophisticated. I don’t really deserve him.”
Sandy said nothing in response, just grunted. When Brigid peered over her shoulder at him, he was frowning. She opened her mouth to ask him why, but the gates of Gillies Tower were already upon them. They rode through a large gatehouse, their horses’ hooves ringing on the cobbles. The sound echoed with such force that Brigid could barely hear herself think. Then they emerged into the courtyard beyond, where a flurry of servants rushed out to meet them. Sandy swung down from his horse, and helped Brigid down to stand beside him.
He offered his arm, and Brigid almost laughed at the old-fashioned gesture. But she managed to keep a straight face as he led her up the broad stone steps and into the great hall. Brigid gasped a little at the size of the room, its rafters almost disappearing into the darkness above, but she only had a moment to gawp before he moved her on into the next room, and the next, talking away all the time.
The inside of the castle was every bit as beautiful as the outside. But, as she walked, Brigid noticed that most of the furniture was rather old and a little threadbare, although it seemed sparklingly clean and very well cared for. Perhaps Sandy was not quite so wealthy and grand as he seemed. Still, there was a lot to be impressed by. Brigid particularly liked the small, book-lined study and the elegant parlour.
Finally, Sandy led her to a narrow spiral staircase which led them high above the main floor.
“The family bedrooms are all on this floor,” he said, gesturing at where the staircase opened up into a corridor.
He kept on climbing, and Brigid followed him, intrigued.
At the top of the staircase was a single door. Sandy opened it to reveal a small tower room, containing only a four-poster bed and a chest of drawers.
“Apologies that it is so small and humble,” he said, pushing his golden hair back from his face. “I hope that you will like it regardless.”
Brigid almost laughed again, this time at the serious, awkward expression on his face.
“It’s lovely,” she said. “I’m sure I will like it very much.”
He hovered for a moment, blocking the doorway. Brigid shifted a little, clenching and unclenching her fingers. Close up, he was rather large and imposing. Her eyes met his and she blushed a little, unable to forget the feel of his lips on hers.
He broke eye contact first.
“Someone will come to fetch you for dinner,” he said, sidling past her. “Perhaps you would like to relax until then.”
He vanished down the stairs, his footsteps echoing after her.
Brigid slipped into her new room and shut the door behind her. She hesitated for a second, then lowered the heavy bar that would keep the door locked. She felt bad, acting so distrustful after these people had helped her so much, but she did not want to take any chances.
She drifted over to the narrow window. It was wider than the arrow slits she’d seen in other castles, although it was just as deep. She leaned her elbows on the wood-lined sill and gazed out at the landscape beyond.
Once again, she was struck by the familiarity of the countryside, combined with a strange sense of subtle change. Trees stood in slightly the wrong places. The curves of the hills were a little stronger, not yet eroded by quarrying for stone. For the most part, though, it was a landscape she knew and loved. Rain came rolling down the valley, cloaking the green fields in a fine layer of mist.
Brigid’s shock had not yet faded, nor had her fear. She clutched at the wooden windowsill as if it could anchor her. But at least she was still in the beautiful land she loved so much.