Chapter Nine #2
“Nay, lass. This is the outer gown. It gets wicked cold in the Highlands. Ye need all these layers for warmth.”
Evie held up her arms, eyeing the long golden tassels dangling from the wrists of her sleeves. “It’ll be a miracle if I don’t trip over these.”
“Walk slowly with a short stride and keep yer forearms gracefully lifted. Dinna march along like ye do when ye’re wearing yer jeans.
” Morganna settled a gold-trimmed cloak of dark blue velvet around Evie’s shoulders.
“And we fasten yer mantle with these fine jeweled brooches.” She stepped back, her head tipping to one side as she gave Evie a critical up-and-down look.
“Are ye certain ye dinna wish to wear a veil? ’Twould be verra lovely under yer circlet.
And as a bonus, it might make them think ye’ve already wed yer Drummond.
After all, a married woman always covers her hair. ”
“Can we not complicate this any more than it already is?” Evie was half tempted to return to her twenty-first-century clothes, shimmy her way out the window, down the castle wall, and head for the sidhe hill.
Her ridiculous heart pinched her hard enough to double her over.
She cleared her throat and ignored the pain.
“Simple is always better, and I think we’re messing up. ”
Morganna stared at her. “Whatever do ye mean, lass?”
“What I mean is, if I’m not going to stay here, wouldn’t Drummond be better off with a woman ready and waiting to step into the wife slot?”
Tossing both hands in the air again, Morganna clucked and fussed like a disgruntled hen. “Never in all my seven hundred years have I ever met a mortal so willing to cast aside that which would bring them more joy than they could ever imagine.”
Something inside Evie snapped. “Just shut up, will you? You can do magic to protect yourself. All I have is me.” A sob escaped her, frustrating her even more.
She never cried. Hated it worse than anything.
She thumped her chest, flinching when she hit the heavy ruby pendant and made it dig into her breastbone.
“I’m already living on borrowed time. I should’ve been dead a long time ago.
The Grim Reaper would have an easier time catching up with me here. ”
Morganna’s dark brows slowly drew together. “I dinna understand.”
“I figured you did all the research.” Evie didn’t attempt to veil her contempt for the immortal fairy, the being who didn’t have to worry about mortals killing her.
“Did your background check not fill you in on all the gory details about the car accident that killed my parents and my siblings? Did it not tell you that the doctors couldn’t believe it when I survived? Said I was a miracle?”
“Petra failed to inform me about that,” Morganna said, her voice soft and low. “How old were ye, lass, when this happened?”
“Six.” Evie swiped at the tears and blinked away the chance of any more.
“My brother was four. My sister, two.” She held up her chin and forced in a deep breath.
“Grandmama and Granddaddy raised me. Then they died a few years ago. Here, I’m all I’ve got—especially if something happens to Drummond.
At least back home, I had friends I knew I could count on in a pinch.
They became the family I no longer had.”
“I could be yer friend, Evie. All of us at Craig Durness could be.”
“Until I make my choice, and then you’re history, right?
After all, a woman in the fourteenth century can’t very well be consorting with mystical beings if she doesn’t want to get put on a rotisserie.
And if I were to go back to my time, I’m sure you’d probably erase my memories or something.
Isn’t that what you do when humans don’t do what you want them to do? ”
The bad thing was, something deep inside her knew that no matter how many of her memories they erased, she’d never forget Drummond. She’d already stayed too long. That damn kiss had been her undoing.
Morganna bowed her head as if praying for wisdom. “I am sorry, lass. Sorry that the curse pulled ye into this terrible darkness.”
“Yeah, well. What’s done is done—right?” A depressing resignation settled over Evie.
Just like she’d felt when walking through the cemetery and placing flowers on all her family members’ graves.
She was well and truly screwed again, just as she had been then.
Not that she wasn’t a fighter. Not that she’d ever consider giving up before she ever got started. But this time—
She shook her head. Fate wasn’t fighting fair. It had baited the trap with something she’d searched for a long time: Mr. Right. But the cost terrified her.
She glanced over at the table where the remains of their tea sat for anyone to discover. “Don’t you need to poof away the tea bags or something before we make our grand entrance to the clan, or are there more layers I’m supposed to put on?”
Morganna went to the table, grabbed the tea bags by their strings, and flung them into the fire.
With a grim expression, she gave Evie a formal curtsy.
“We are ready. Just don’t forget to address me as Mistress Martha.
Since ye have seen through my glamour here, it’ll nay hide me from yer eyes any longer.
Yer Drummond will be the same, but since he doesn’t trust the Fae, I dinna think he will be a problem. ”
“I intend to be a woman of mystery, remember? A silent one.” All she needed to do was come out with a stray y’all or one of Grandmama’s quirky sayings, and Drummond would finally see clearly why she didn’t belong here.
Maybe she should do that after all. Maybe that was a solid plan that would make things easier.
But the wants of her heart overruled the demons of her common sense.
She couldn’t do that to Drummond. It wouldn’t be fair, and he deserved fair.
Actually, he deserved a whole lot more than fair, but she didn’t know if she was capable of giving it to him.
Granddaddy and Grandmama would be so ashamed if they knew they’d raised such a coward.
“Come on. Let’s go.” Without waiting for Morganna, Evie marched out the door and startled the large man standing beside it. With a formal bow, he hurried to close it behind her and Morganna, then stood at attention once more. “Thank you…uhm…” She couldn’t remember his name.
“Griogair is a fine, loyal doorward,” Morganna said, coming to the rescue.
“Indeed, he is.” Evie smiled up at the man. “Thank you, Griogair. Please forgive my lapse in memory. I wasn’t feeling well when Drummond mentioned your name earlier, but I’ll remember it from now on. I appreciate your keeping me safe.”
The quiet giant bowed his head. “’Tis indeed good fortune yer health is much improved, m’lady. May it continue to be that way.”
“Thank you.” Uncertain what else to say, she dismissed herself with a pitiful curtsy that she’d tried to master in the tap class that Grandmama had insisted she would love. She hadn’t, and with her two left feet, she had mutilated the art of tap, turning it into glorified, erratic stomping.
“Dinna curtsy to the staff,” Morganna whispered as they entered the stairwell.
“They curtsy and bow to ye. Not the other way around.” She caught hold of Evie’s arm and pulled her to a stop just as they stepped through the archway.
“Mind the steps. The treads are shallow, and the risers are steep. Ye’ll fall and break yer neck if ye dinna take care. Stone stairways are verra unforgiving.”
“I think I’d be better off if you were a crow perched on my shoulder, whispering all this stuff in my ear.”
“Aye, and then they truly would think ye a witch and burn ye at the stake.”
“Heaven help me.” The cool roughness of the stone wall in the stairwell steadied Evie as she eased down the steps.
Between the treacherous stairs, the excessive yardage of her skirts, and those freaking gold cords hanging from her wrists, she wouldn’t have to worry about choosing to stay in this time or not.
She’d be dead from a broken neck within a day—two at best. “You know, I never liked to play princess dress-up as a child. I was always more into driving the tractor or helping with the cows. Tomboy stuff and all that.”
“Ye canna do that here, lass. At least, not yet.”
“What do you mean, not yet?”
“Win over the clan’s heart and loyalty, and ye can do anything ye wish. A loyal clan is a generous and forgiving thing.”
“I’m more concerned about walking without falling on my face at the moment.
” She breathed easier as she stepped off the last stair and entered a wide hallway.
Looking up and down the long, torchlit corridor, she felt as though she’d stepped into a medieval world at a theme park—except this world was real.
“Which way now? I haven’t gotten my bearings yet. ”
Morganna nodded to the right. “That way. Hear all the clatter? Smell the smoke of a wood fire, and the tang of too many unwashed bodies? That’s a great hall filled with clansmen, I grant ye that.”
Evie rubbed the end of her nose, snorting to clear it. This century’s fragrance did indeed take some getting used to. She listened closely, turning her head in that direction. The low rumbling of voices was distinctly male. “Clansmen. No women?”
“Not this early. The wives and women looking to become wives will not be present until time for the meal. For now, the only lasses will be the servants passing around the ale and getting the tables ready.”
Evie eased closer to the wide archway at the end of the hall. “So, do I need to go in there now or wait? Maybe the visiting clan is unpacking its stuff and getting settled in. Wouldn’t they likely do that?”
“No. Even though the other women are not present, Lady Merelys could already be in there sniffing around Drummond. We canna chance that. He might say something wrong that she could hold him to—legally.”