Chapter Seven
Harper woke up in her huge bed under piles of covers. Her dreams had been fraught with visions of being transported to Scotland in the sixteenth century. Blinking awake, realization slowly permeated. It was no dream. Quickly sitting up and looking around, she was convinced she remained in the sixteenth century. She was still here even though it defied everything she believed.
Someone had left a warm woolen robe at the foot of her bed, and she quickly wrapped herself in it. On a small table against the wall, a bowl and pitcher waited, no doubt for washing, a linen square alongside it. Dipping her hands in the icy water, she splashed it on her face. It wasn’t a cup of Starbucks, but it did wake her up.
A kind soul had lit a fire and it beckoned cheerily as sunlight spilled in through the windows on her right. On a chair in front of the fire, several gowns and undergarments waited, including a heavy linen shirt and a long skirt made from a plaid. Woolen hose and soft slippers would keep some of the cold at bay and another tartan lay on the chair, apparently to wrap around her shoulders. That and the velvet cloak she had brought with her, with its warm lining, should stop some of her shivering. And off to the side, a small dagger sat in a leather sheath attached to a belt of sorts. Of course, Skye had told her she would need an eating knife since silverware was not plentiful and there was no need to waste coin on such a luxury as forks. A quick look under the bed confirmed her the bag with the magic cloak was safe and still hidden.
A grin curved her mouth as she remembered that she was to go for a walk with Daimh today. Getting to know him would be a totally new experience. How should she act? This was a completely different culture with dissimilar manners and behaviors. She would prompt him to do the talking. Ready for what more adventures await her, she opened her chamber door and walked down the steps to the main hall.
Very few people were around, but a woman serving food noticed her and indicated she should sit at one of the trestle tables. A bowl of what appeared to be steaming oatmeal and some biscuits they called bannocks were placed before her, along with a mug of bitter ale.
She smiled her thanks and took in her surroundings as she ate until Skye exited the kitchen.
“Did ye sleep well,” she asked, slipping onto the bench beside her.
“Aye,” Harper responded, with no little sarcasm. “I can’t get used to the brogue.”
“Ha. This is nothing. Wait until you spend time with Daimh and he slips into Gaelic. And yes, ye’ll soon learn there are no secrets here.” She stifled a laugh. “Well, other than ours, that is.”
“Did I hear talk of a wedding?”
“Aye,” Skye responded, grinning. “Conall and Freya will stand before the priest in two days’ time to speak their vows. I am so happy for them. Did I mention that he had wanted to pursue Davina?”
“Oh my God.” She, above all, knew what it was like to be married to someone horrible. Apparently, Conall got lucky and was not to be burdened with that—what did they say here instead of bitch? Galla?
“I know. Sometimes men can be so dense. A flash of boob and they’re putty.”
“What happened to change his mind?”
“Well, I think he was getting hints of Davina’s true personality before they left for Corrichie to defend Queen Mary, and he was definitely beginning to notice Freya. When they came home and he realized what Davina had done to Neasa and me, he obviously made the right choice.”
“You know, when she first appeared at the cottage, she seemed—I don’t know—like something nasty lurked under her surface.”
Skye nodded her agreement and before they could continue their conversation, Daimh strode into the hall from outside.
His hair was damp, and Harper wondered how it was possible to bathe in this cold. But, these were the hearty Scots, and she would just have to toughen up if she were to think of staying. The thought unnerved her, but less so than she imagined it would.
“Good morning.” His eyes bright and the smile lighting his face warmed her to her toes. “Could I hope ye would still like a tour of the village?”
“Oui. I would love it.”
“Have a lovely time,” Skye said as she stood and gathered up Harper’s plate and hurried back to the kitchen.
Harper stood, slipped her hand around his arm, and he led her out into the courtyard and through the gate. His hard muscles rippled under her fingers and a little thrill of excitement ran up her spine. They angled down the hill to a dock, and he held his arm out to guide her to a seat in a boat. More flutters tickled her insides.
“Nae frightened this time that I’ll drown ye?” he teased.
“No. I mean nay. I feel quite safe with ye.”
If she was not mistaken, the big man blushed a little.
In minutes they were across the loch. The sky was a steel grey, threatening rain, and Harper hoped it would hold off at least for a while. Anxious to spend time with this glorious man, she didn’t want the weather interfering. Unless, of course, they could find a secret cave.
Obviously, the constant threat of a downpour didn’t deter the locals from going about their business. Taking Daimh’s arm and again reveling in the strength she found there, they walked up to the cottage which had been her point of arrival and Harper hesitated. It was nearly impossible to believe this was the same place that hundreds of years in the future would be a luxurious accommodation. Now, it was a broken-down wreck of disuse and abandonment.
“This is where I first laid eyes upon ye,” he said, “ and I imagined I was dreaming.”
That makes two of us.
“Why did yer escort not bring you directly to the castle?” he asked. “All manner of things can happen to a lass left alone.” His disapproval was clear.
Harper had to think quickly. “The priest and the others were in a hurry and since they had been kind enough to bring me this far, I felt it improper to impose by delaying them further.”
“Well, luckily, Dornie is a safe village. No one here would dare molest ye, especially knowing of your friendship with the Lady Skye.”
Continuing to walk into the village, Harper was amazed at the locals offering their goods. Just like a farmers’ market in the present day, people were selling freshly picked winter vegetables. Open-air stalls allowed people to move between the wares. There was a woman with bolts of cloth laid out on a table and another hawking beautiful ribbons of all colors. Eggs, sausages, and other foodstuffs beckoned and Daimh bought some fresh bread and cheese. Tearing off bites, they shared the fare as they walked along, admiring the merchandise.
“It is always like this?” Harper asked. “The merchants and the goods?”
“Nay so much all the time, but more so during this time of year. Although we’re forbidden to celebrate Christmas since the Reformation, many still buy gifts for each other to exchange. We just don’t call it by name.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why did the Reformation end the celebration of Christmas?”
“A man named John Knox brought it about. Our Parliament merely desired to step away from the Roman Catholic Church and ended up destroying it here. Catholic practices were made illegal, and anyone caught celebrating mass could be put to death. But that didn’t change the beliefs in the people’s hearts.”
So many thoughts went through Harper’s mind. Mostly how no matter what point in history you found yourself, someone was always trying to change things, not necessarily for the better.
“Skye said you do celebrate the New Year. Hogmanay is it?”
“Aye, and a glorious party it shall be, as it is every year. I am hoping you will accompany me, and I may claim a dance or two.”
Harper’s chest filled with those flutters again and she smiled. “I would be honored, but I fear I am not much of a dancer.”
“Forgive me, I did not think. Of course the nunnery would not have had much dancing. Believe it or nay, I can be verra light on me feet.”
“There was not so much drinking either,” Harper returned, grinning, hoping that was true. Some nunneries produced wine. “For me, that is,” she corrected. “But I did sample some whiskey on my way here. I liked it.” And a tiny part of her still held out that whiskey was responsible for this hallucination. It was, however, becoming impossible to deny that this was her new reality.
“Well, we can see that you have more, then,” Daimh said. “Whiskey, that is.”
“Why Daimh, would you take advantage of a wee lass by feeding her spirits?”
He appeared horrified. “Nay. I would nae do such a thing.”
Harper patted his arm. “I was but teasing.”
Relaxing, he dropped his gaze, then straightened. “But, if ye were willing…” His voice had lowered, as if he were speaking more to himself than to her. Clearing his throat, he lifted his chin. “Tell me of your life in the nunnery. How did ye spend yer days?”
How indeed? “Well, we did the usual nun stuff.” Harper could not believe those words had come out of her mouth. Before she could retract them, his bellow of laughter filled the air.
“You jest with me. People, wumman, do not usually do that. I like it.” He pulled her forward. “Come and we will see what the other craftsmen hae brought today.”
***
Daimh tried to stop staring at her. He did. But she was so bonny. So different from any of the other lasses he had ever spent time around. Harper was the kind of baineann who could steal a man’s heart and never let it go. He couldn’t decide what it was about her exactly, but from the moment he slipped from his horse, which was inconceivable, he was thunderstruck.
And more than that, he desired her above all others. Wumman were not so hard to come by if he had the need, although he believed that most succumbed not to his charm, which he was certain he lacked, but because he was braw. Warriors, even though they were feared, were seen as a challenge to some lasses, their taste of adventure.
But Harper was so unlike any other. She actually teased him and when she smiled, she could reach into his chest and hold him captive. To be ensnared like that was—terrifying. What if they were to marry and beget a bairn like his brother? It could tear them apart, as it had his mother and da.
When Thomas was born, his da had walked away, blaming his mother, thinking she had provoked the wrath of the fairies. His da was ne’er to return.
Daimh hoped to never make the same decision and leave a child, no matter what the fae had in store for him. But when dealing with the faeries, sometimes their cunning games for amusement dealt mortals terrible consequences. His much older sister, though, had married before their brother was born, so she was unaware of what had befallen their family. But there was no explanation for the curse, so how could he explain it? He just had seen the result. But now his sister had a husband she cared for and three lovely, healthy bairns. That’s what Daimh hoped for himself one day, but the secret always held him back. Was marrying a chance he could take? If his sister had escaped the wrath of the fairies, were they saving more mischief for him?
That was his private terror. And why? Why was his family cursed? And was it just his mother and da or him as well? There was no answer he could find.
Today, watching Harper and seeing the marketplace through her eyes was a completely new and exciting experience for him. Many times he had strolled the streets and perused the goods, occasionally spending coin on some necessity or other, but today all he could think of was how he wanted to buy everything that caught her eye just to please her. But again, so unlike others, she seemed to have no desire for him to spend his money on her, seeming happy just to be in his company.
At one point, her toe had caught on an uneven cobblestone, and she stumbled. Quickly, he grabbed her about the waist and brought her aright. His heart pounded and his blood ran hot through his veins as she turned to thank him, her mouth but an inch from his own. That mouth of hers, those lips, so ripe and pink and delicate, so made for kissing. Imagining how they would taste made his manhood react and he quickly angled away so she would not see. The last thing he wished was for her to be scandalized by his bad behavior.
Unfortunately for him, the Pandora’s box of desire had been opened and it was all he could do to keep his hands off her and his thoughts on anything else.
When they returned to the boat and he helped her inside it, the wind blew her scent of roses, tickling his nose. Closing his eyes, he prayed for strength to resist all the urges that were clouding his brain. If she knew his secret, she would be repulsed, and he could not abide that. Nor could he take the chance the fae might direct their harm to her because he already cared for her.
***
Returning to the castle, Harper noticed more activity than that morning. Sounds of clanging pots and Kenna calling out directions from the kitchen filled the air and Neasa paused only long enough to flash Harper a smile as she hurried past.
Harper needed to talk to her best friend. She was desperate to sort out her confusion and her feelings for Daimh. When he caught her arm as she nearly fell in the marketplace, it was all she could do to not to pull him closer. Wondering what it would actually feel like to have his mouth on hers so occupied her thoughts afterward, it was difficult to concentrate on anything else. Luckily, the craftsmen were anxious to show their wares and provided a distraction. But the attraction to him had happened so fast. She told herself it had been awhile, and it was probably just lust, but she knew better. She was drawn to this man like an irresistible force. She should not really be surprised. After all, everything to do with this experience was—mystical. There was no other word. Fading into the background was the woman who demanded facts, figures, data. And it was unnerving trying to reconcile what was happening.
Skye strode down the stairs, Freya next to her vibrating with obvious excitement. Of course, they were preparing for her wedding. It was made special since the laird obviously valued both the bride and groom. According to Skye, Freya had been instrumental in saving her life and Conall had been a loyal friend to the laird since forever.
Freya nodded, grinned, and ran to the main door and out into the courtyard. Skye motioned Harper to join her by the fire.
“Good morning. Thank you for the clothes.”
Skye grinned. “I had to hide yours. Close examination would definitely cause suspicion. Clothing here isn’t made of polyester and put together with machine stitching. And they were a little out of date.”
Harper shrugged and laughed. “I did what I could.”
“I get it.” They shared a quick laugh.
“Can I help with the wedding preparations?” Harper asked.
“Nay. I will arise early tomorrow to make a cake and Kenna has the women in the kitchen making all manner of stews and meats and vegetables. And Freya created her own gown. She is so talented with a needle and thread. I have to show you the gown she made for my wedding. It’s gorgeous.”
“I am so sorry I missed it. I always hoped I’d be there to see you happily married. It breaks my heart.”
“Me, too. I am so glad you’re here now, though.”
Harper squeezed Skye’s arm. “I still can’t believe it.” Exhaling, she gazed around the main hall. “Who will come to the wedding?”
“Mostly MacKenzies and MacRaes. The custom is actually for the clans to intermarry to form alliances, but when Ian realized Conall and Freya loved each other, he would not even consider marrying either of them to others outside the immediate clan. In fact, Freya has been in love with Conall for years.”
“Weren’t lairds supposed to do that as well? Marry outside the clan?” Harper raised an eyebrow in question.
Skye grinned. “Aye. But since I was a Blaine, which is a Scottish clan, and also French,” she winked at Harper, “Ian felt certain that the queen would bless his marriage to me.”
“That is amazing luck.”
“So how was your time with Daimh?”
Feeling the heat rise to her cheeks, Harper dipped her head.
“That good?”
Lifting her gaze skyward, Harper hugged herself. “Skye, he’s not like any other man I’ve ever known. And it’s not just that we’re in medieval Scotland. He is sweet and kind and so handsome. And such a gentleman. I was hoping he’d kiss me. He did kind of make it clear he wanted to. I was sure it would freak him out if I made the first move, but I managed to behave.”
“Good for you.” Skye leaned closer and bumped shoulders with Harper. “We don’t want him thinking you’re a loose woman.”
Harper laughed, the sound coming from deep in her throat. “How do I explain I’m no virgin?”
“That’s easy. You were married—nothing wrong with that. You could say he died.”
Harper hated to be reminded of that time in her life. Finding her ex-husband with another woman, in their house, in their bed, was the most ego devastating experience of her life. Not that Richard had been a particularly good husband, always criticizing her and lecturing. Still, actually seeing his betrayal was nearly overwhelming.
When they were married, Richard had also even gone so far as making Harper’s time with Skye impossible. They had to sneak phone calls and lunches and it strained their relationship. When the marriage ended, after two interminable years, Harper could tell that Skye was as happy and relieved as she was.
Would a man like Daimh end up trying to control her? And then tire of her? Seek the company of another? Somehow, she doubted it. He struck her as the kind of man whose honor and loyalty meant everything to him.
But what was she thinking? She needed to go back, or rather forward, and here she was contemplating a relationship with a man in the sixteenth century. Her head was spinning.