Chapter 16
August 23rd, 1881
Kielder Forest, Hexham
One early morning, a couple of rowdy voices, a kettledrum and a bagpipe blasted from outside Eva’s tent. She crawled out from beneath her mountain of blankets and peeked through a gap between the tightly fastened knots of the tent’s entrance.
Beneath the backdrop of the rising sun, Elias stood in the centre, his hands behind his back. To his right, Duncan marched in place with a bagpipe. To his left, Arthur played a tiny drum, a grin across his sunburnt face.
“Aye, there’s the wee fool. Say, Duncan and Arthur, do ye spot her peeking out from the tent there?” Elias said. “About time she’s awake.”
“What are you doing?” Eva shouted above the music.
“We’re about to conduct a ceremony,” Elias said.
“It’s, like, five in the morning.”
“Six-thirty, actually.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Couldn’t you conduct your ceremony by the river, or something?”
Elias wagged his finger. “Unfortunately not. The ceremony is for ye.”
Her eyes widened.
“Hurry yer wee bottom and get dressed. Otherwise, I’ll come in and fetch ye out myself.”
With a groan, she pulled shut the tent and sat on her heels. A ceremony for her? Had she heard that right? It must be a joke. She quickly changed into a clean pair of brown pants and a white shirt and combed her hair, leaving it loose around her shoulders. She unfastened the tent’s band, stepped out before the men and crossed her arms.
“Right, you said there was a ceremony in my honour?” Eva declared.
The music came to a halt.
Duncan whistled as he regarded her from head to toe. “Och, the lady has an ego the size o’ the Queen’s now.”
Elias raised a brow. “Ye might have been right about this being a bad idea, Duncan. I’m afraid the attention has gone to her heid.”
Arthur approached with a steaming mug. “Coffee?”
“Thank you, Arthur, you are always so kind.” She gave Elias and Duncan a dirty look. “If not, the kindest.”
“Careful what ye say, lass, otherwise the ceremony may be cancelled,” Elias said.
“Nice try. If you want to keep your head, you’d better deliver on promise. Don’t forget you’ve awoken a woman at the crack of dawn with horrible music.”
“And that is a beast I dinnae want to mess with,” Elias said, his eyes twinkling a radiant green. “Duncan, if ye would begin, please.”
The high-pitched tone of the bagpipe started. It pierced her ears.
“Do ye hear that, lass?” Elias said.
She winced. “How could I not?”
“That’s the sound of Scotland. Arthur, the drum, please.”
Arthur began beating the kettledrum with his wooden drumsticks.
“That, lass, is the accompanying sound of England. What do you smell apart from cow shite and Duncan’s stench?” Elias said.
Eva shrugged. “Fish?”
“Aye, that too,” Elias chuckled. “But also, the winds of change. We are on the border of two lands. Tomorrow, we enter Scotland as seasoned warriors in a cause for scientific change, and you, my flichterin’ dealan-dè, you will enter Scotland as one of us.”
He was upon a knee before her.
With a startled gasp, she stepped back. Her coffee spilled over the mug’s rim, burning her hands. She barely registered the pain because she was too preoccupied by Elias pulling a green tartan shawl from behind his back.
The shawl was neatly folded in his hands. On top lay a metal pin of a thistle, glistening in the early-morning sun.
“Elias,” she said, his name coming out in one long, winded breath. “What is this? What are you giving me?”
Elias grinned wider than ever.
Slowly, her fingertip traced the outline of the thistle pin. The shiny metal was cool to the touch. She knew it was the symbolic flower of Scotland.
“A prickly flower for a prickly lass,” Elias said.
A rushing noise was in her ears. She should have smiled by now or made a move to show her appreciation for the gesture, but she was held frozen by a dizzying sensation. Prickly. Hadn’t Henry called her the same thing? She had been his imp with a prickly spirit.
The rush of emotion sent her swaying. It was another weird coincidence that led her back to Henry. She set the cup of coffee on a nearby stool.
“Well?” Elias said.
“I’m overwhelmed,” she said, looking at Elias. “Thank you. This is so kind and thoughtful.”
And it was.In fact, she was blown away by the gesture.
“How do I wear it?” she said.
Elias stood at once.
There was a serious expression on his face as he proceeded to wrap the shawl around her shoulder. His hand slid behind her neck to extract her hair caught beneath the shawl. With a quick manoeuvre, he brought both ends of the shawl together and tied them with the thistle pin over her heart.
The possessiveness of the act made her face flush. When she locked eyes with him again, she couldn’t help but be entranced by all of him.
The golden glow of the rising sun outlined his stoic figure. Strong shoulders, thick arms and a narrow torso. His tawny hair was the same colour as the fields of long brown grass. His eyes matched the Scottish mountains in the distance.
Holy heck.
Once finished, he stepped back, inhaled deeply and smiled.
“There ye are,” he said.
“How do I look?” she asked.
Elias seemed to have stopped breathing. His Adam’s apple bobbled up and down as he swallowed. “Bonnie,” he said. “Ye look bonnie.”
A twinge of happiness and sadness throbbed in her chest. Ignoring the conflicting emotions brewing within, she rose to the tips of her toes to embrace him.
“Thank you,” she said once more.
Beneath his shirt, hard muscles contracted. Slowly, his forehead fell against the crook of her neck. It sent a shock of warmth through her. Unlike their awkward hug at the Randall farm, this one felt natural and easier.
“Oi, where is my hug?” Duncan said.
Eva flashed Duncan a look.
Duncan was watching them with his hands on his hips. Brows raised, he looked on expectantly.
“Do you deserve it?” she said.
“I fetched ye that pin,” Duncan declared.
“Did you? Well, I suppose that does earn you a hug.” She broke away from Elias. “It is a fine pin indeed.”
Duncan smiled. With a jig, he approached. “Aye, it is. Now give it up, lass.”
He tackled her into a bear hug.
She squealed into the bristles of his beard. With a grunt, he picked her up and swung her in a circle. She shrieked like a child.
“I said a hug, not a smothering,” Eva said.
Duncan set her down.
Arthur patted her shoulder. “You do look bonnie. The McKenzie colours suit you.”
Eva’s smile fell. McKenzie colours? She looked at the forest-green tartan of her shawl then at Elias, who was walking away toward the river’s edge.
The kilt he wore was the same shade of green.
He had blanketed her in his family colours. How had she missed the obvious connection? There was a pressure in her chest as if her heart could not decide whether to break or soar.
Elias kneeled on the grass. He stared at his reflection in the running river before dunking his head into the water. After a few seconds, he lifted his head and ran a hand through his hair. Jaw tense, he peered at the pale-blue sky.
Breathing fast, she wondered what he was thinking, but judging by the steam rising off his forehead inthe cool morning air, he needed to cool down. It was her turn to swallow hard.
***
“Wake up, lass.”
A hand nudged Eva’s shoulder.
Eva jolted awake to the sight of a colossal mountain at the end of the dirt road they travelled. It sat like an enormous yellow-green jewel in the centre of a terrain of rolling hills.
Spots of sun marked the landscape, painting the scene in a contrasting juxtaposition of vibrant yellows and muted browns. The mountain top was covered in low-hanging clouds of mist, and the steep slopes along the base were illuminated by the afternoon sun, bringing light to the shimmering streams of water that snaked downhill. And, perhaps most magnificent of all, a thick rainbow fell from the sky, landing at the mountain’s foot.
“Welcome to Scotland,” Elias said.
She stood.
One of the front wheels hit a stone, and Eva placed a hand on the carriage roof to steady herself.
“Scotland,” she repeated, a smile crossing her face. “It’s stunning.”
“Aye,” Elias said.
A late-August breeze swept through the land. It brought the fresh scent of nature: notes of earthy moss, vegetation, rotting logs and crisp, clean air.
She breathed in. With a wider smile, she exhaled and shut her eyes. The cool air iced her cheeks, sending goosebumps across her skin. She brought her tartan shawl tighter around her shoulders and sat back down.
Elias looked at her with a bemused expression. Amid the horses’s hooves, the creaking of the carriages and the wind whistling along the slopes, his quickening breath was seductively audible.
She clamped down on her lower lip. A smile curled the corners of her mouth. There was something in his expression that made her want to laugh out loud, but she didn’t dare ruin the peace of the scenery.
He was still gazing at her, a familiar hesitant glint in his eyes.
“What?” she finally said.
“Ye’ve never looked happier, lass.”
Her heart gave an absurd thump.
He half-smiled. “Are ye?”
“Am I what?”
“Happy.”
She looked away toward the mountain. As they drew nearer, it rose up like an immense green giant from a fantasy film. Was she happy? Yes, she supposed she was. Having made the decision to just be, she had not considered the question in quite some time, and it felt good to not worry about trivial stuff like emotions or unreliable memories. But she’d be lying if his question did not prompt her to revisit those things. Despite the joy of being here in Scotland at Elias’s side, there was unfinished business swirling inside her, waiting to be spoken of.
The future was uncertain, tainted by the trauma of her kidnapping and Henry’s betrayal. Somewhere in this enormous world, Henry was alive. She wondered whether he too felt joy when he looked at the landscape around him. Was he content with his new life? Did he feel love when he kissed his wife?
She squeezed the hem of her tartan shawl. As expected, the familiar pain of heartache coiled around her heart, threatening to suffocate her in unwanted rage and sadness.
You must let these things go.
“I am happy,” she said softly.
Was she, though?
Yes, she felt some sense of happiness, but there was something missing. Was it because she had yet to speak with someone about her ugly past? Would that someone be Elias?
“That makes me happy to hear,” Elias said.
“Why?”
His fingers flexed against the leather reins. “Does there need to be a reason to see another human happy?”
“I guess not.”
“I like the way yer nose crinkles when ye smile,” he said.
Somewhere, a bird sang.
Her stomach flipped. “I like it when you wear a kilt.”
Staring straight ahead, a slow smile spread across his face. A tinge of red marked his cheeks, spreading down his neck.
“I kenned ye did,” he said.
“No, you didn’t.”
“Of course I did. Ye cannae keep yer eyes off my knees.”
It was her turn to blush. With a scoff, she averted her face to look at the boulders that dotted the landscape to her right.
“That’s not true,” she lied.
“Yer a bad liar.”
“Fine,” she said with a huff of defeat. “I like your knees. So what? That’s not weird.”
But it was weird. God, why did she confess that? Because she had no shame.But also, because after several weeks on the road with Elias and his kilt, she wanted to release some tension. Whether that was by finally confessing her truth, or by kissing it away, she would see tonight. Anything could happen with a few beers, good music and forgotten inhibitions.
He chuckled and gave her a side glance. His face was as red as a tomato, and he was grinning wider than she’d ever seen.
“You’re blushing like a schoolgirl,” she said.
“And yer bolder than a gentleman at the whorehouse.”
She smiled before throwing back her head in a joyous laugh. Elias made her feel secure, opening her up to the possibility of finally speaking out. Tomorrow, she told herself. Tomorrow, she would tell him about her kidnapping ordeal. The decision lifted a burden off her shoulders, and she continued to tease him as they trotted down the road to the next village.
***
The Scottish pub was a blur of stained-glass windows, gas lamps, wooden tables and a cacophony of voices and traditional music. Sitting at a table, Eva observed the musicians. Excitement swirled around her, and she clapped along with the beat of the music.
The song came to an end.
Eva placed a hand on the rough, sticky table and smiled. She loved watching the musicians in their traditional clothing. There was a fiddle, a bagpipe and a flute. This picture of the past gave her a deep sense of longing, pulling within her chest and blossoming outward in waves of warmth to her extremities.
Something lukewarm spilled over her fingers.
“Och, will ye look at that,” Elias said. “Ye’ve been blessed by the beer gods.”
She looked at the sticky film of foam across the table. It had spilled from Elias’s tankard when he sat down.
“I didn’t ask to be blessed,” she said, wiping her hand with a cloth.
“Ye can’t choose when yer blessed. It just happens.”
“I don’t suppose it happens more frequently when one is in a pub surrounded by drunks?”
Beer in hand, Elias leaned closer and grinned. A warmth filled his face, reddening his cheeks and creasing his eyes with a mischievous glint.
“Aye, ye may be onto something with that theory,” he said.
“I’m a smart woman.” She leaned closer to him. “I’m always onto something.”
His eyes fell to her lips.
He wants you.
Butterflies fluttered in her belly. Oh yes, she was determined to leave her troubled mind tonight to focus on her pleasure. No more heartache, only pure, raw, unadulterated … pleasure.
Beer dripped onto her skirt and Eva gasped.
“Might I”—Arthur hiccupped—“Might I propose a toast to a most”—he brought his free hand to his mouth and belched—“to a most successful and prosperous journey.”
“Only after you apologize for ruining my new skirt,” Eva muttered as she wiped her skirt with a cloth.
“Aye, a toast,” Duncan roared.
Duncan curled an arm around Arthur’s neck and pulled him in. More beer spilled from Arthur’s tankard, splattering to the floor by Eva’s feet.
“Seriously?” Eva said.
Elias chuckled. “The beer gods love ye tonight, lass.”
“To hell with the beer gods. Tell me why I decided to join you idiots again?”
“Because ye love us, admit it,” Duncan said.
“Love—” Arthur swayed forward and was promptly caught by Duncan. “It is a most beautiful thing.”
“Arthur, maybe you should cool it with the beer. It’s not even ten yet,” Eva said.
“Let the lad have his fun,” Duncan said.
Eva frowned. “You won’t be saying that tomorrow when you have to clean his puke from the side of the carriage.”
Duncan waved his hand. “The rain will wash it away, lass. Stop worrying and drink yer beer before it gets piss warm.”
“That calls for a drinking contest. I challenge Eva,” Elias declared.
She turned to him. “You can’t be serious?”
“Never thought I’d see the lass afraid of a wee challenge,” Duncan said.
Her gaze bounced between Elias and Duncan. On second thought, why not go all out? Chugging a beer would probably get her drunk and in heaven in about five seconds. Pure, raw, unadulterated pleasure, remember? A slow smile crept over her face.
She picked up her tankard and smashed it against Elias’s.
“Fine,” she declared. “Game on.”
“There’s the lass I ken,” Duncan said, slapping the table. “On the count of three. Ready?”
Elias and Eva nodded.
“Three, two, one—”
They raised their tankards to their mouths.
A riveting excitement overtook all logical thought. In that moment, she wanted to savagely beat Elias McKenzie in a drinking contest. As she gulped back the beer, liquid foamed down the sides of her mouth, running down her chin. With a final gulp, she set the tankard down hard onto the table.
Their empty tankards clattered.
Duncan and Arthur hollered in disbelief.
Seconds later, Elias set down his empty tankard.
“I cannae believe my eyes. The lass outdrinked ye,” Duncan said.
“Don’t celebrate too early; it may come back up.” Eva brought a hand to her mouth to stifle a burp. The sensation to gag passed. “Nope, nope, I’m good.”
“Beat by a lass,” Elias mused. “That’s a first.”
“Clearly you’ve never hung out with sorority girls,” she said, wiping her chin.
“Sorory what?” Arthur said.
Eva stood. “Enough chatter, boys. Who wants to dance? Duncan, will you do me the honour of being my first dance partner?”
It did not take long for the alcohol to have its intended effect. The hearty dose of beer paid graciously by Duncan had her spinning around the pub to the traditional sounds of nineteenth-century Scotland. Elbow to elbow, she was swung around the crowd of dancers by Duncan, who led her in a jig that made her laugh so hard, she had to run outside to pee in a bush. Arthur’s turn was next. Drunk as he was, he still managed to spin her around the floor.
“I don’t quite know what I’m doing,” he said as they pressed their palms together.
“Neither do I,” she giggled. “Let’s just keep following the Scots.”
“We look like fools.”
Tears of laughter ran down her face. “Who cares. Spin me like a teapot.”
And he did. Her hand in his, he clumsily spun her around and around and around, making her laugh at the absurdity of spinning like a teapot in the middle of a rural pub in Scotland. Skirts flowing around her legs, she threw back her head and basked in the shimmering candlelight reflecting off the ceiling.
When the fever of the crowd came to a climax, people jumped upon the tables. Everyone clapped their hands and stomped their feet to the rhythm of the music.
Eva had just sat down. Her feet ached and she was still dizzy from dancing but damned if she wouldn’t clap along.
A clatter of dishes to her left startled her. Elias had jumped onto the table.
He stomped his boot against the surface, his large hands clapping along to the beat. Clap, clap, clap. As he leaned toward her and offered his hand, his emerald eyes shimmered like two hard jewels.
A burst of warmth flowed through her. She took his hand, and he hoisted her up.
Their bodies collided against one another.
As he held her in place with firm hands on her waist, his lips curled into a smile. She could feel the strong beat of his heart through her hands that rested against his hard chest.
Clap, clap, clap.
The sounds of the crowd clapping in unison roared like thunder in her ears.
They should be clapping along. They should be dancing on the table like the others in the room, but all she could do was look at his lips. Her thoughts swarmed like bees. She was considering kissing him. You are drunk. No. She wanted to kiss him. She had wanted to earlier atop the carriage, and she wanted to this instant, in front of everyone. And why couldn’t she kiss him? After all, she was single.
He brought his lips to her ear. “Do ye want to go outside?”
She was not sure if she heard him correctly. Her hand pressed into the hardness of his chest, and she leaned her ear closer to his mouth.
“What did you say?” she breathed.
His lips brushed the side of her face. “Do ye want to go outside with me?”
She drew her head back to look at him.
“Yes,” she said. “Lead the way.”
They left the pub and walked a short way to a small garden in the centre of the village. Stumbling through the gravel with hushed giggles, they gave one another lingering glances and fleeting smiles.
At a large oak tree, Elias halted and turned his head toward her. Beneath the canopy of leaves, his face was dark. Even in the shadows of the night, she could see an intensity in his expression.
Had she said something? Her body felt heavy from too much beer and her mind was a bunch of jumbled thoughts. She wished he would kiss her before thoughts of Henry cropped up, ruining her desire.
Because you miss kissing Henry.
No.
You do. You totally do.
No, she wanted to kiss Elias, not Henry. Henry had his chance, and he ruined it by marrying another woman and leaving her for dead in the moorland. But how could he have done that when he kissed you with such loving gentleness? Stop it. It no longer mattered why or how, all she wanted was to kiss Elias and feel that gentleness again with another man who was totally not Henry.
She smiled at Elias.
He pushed her against the trunk of the oak tree. “Christ, how I want ye,” he said.
A small gasp escaped her lips. It was promptly taken by his mouth on hers. His kiss, smooth, yet rough, brought forth a wave of hesitation.
It’s only a kiss. Nothing more.
He tasted like beer and smelled like musk. Their lips parted sloppily, and his tongue slid in, needing and greedy in his desire.
She was being kissed by Elias, and she was not sure if she liked it.
Shut up. You totally like it.
She relaxed.
He pulled back and looked down at her face. She nearly expected to meet blue eyes, but they were dark green, almost brown in this light.
Disappointment tugged at her.
Stop this!
Give in to your desire for pleasure with the hunky Scot you’ve been gawking at for weeks.
With an angry growl, she reached for his shirt and kissed him again. His hands fell to her face. Slowly, they slid down the length of her neck, over her breasts and the curve of her waist.
It was his turn to growl.
“No corset,” he said.
“No corset, no drawers, no useless restrictive things … I am a free woman.”
“Aye,” he breathed. “And I love that about ye.”
He kissed her face with rabid desperation. His hands slipped back up to her breasts, kneading them softly. With a moan, her head tipped back against the tree, and she shut her eyes.
A flash of the devil from her nightmares came to mind.
For a beat, a pang of fear jolted her eyes open. The instinct to push Elias away shot through her limbs. It took everything within her to ignore the irrational fear.
It’s only Elias.Focus on him and not your attacker. Let yourself be loved.
She brought her hands to his body, trailing his arms with her fingers. They were hard blocks of granite. All muscle, warmth and rugged charm. He swooped onto her neck with another wave of kisses.
She gave a relieved sigh.
She explored his waistline, running her fingers lower to feel his hardness protruding from the thick material of his kilt. A warmth coiled in the pit of her belly.
Yes.
Another kiss to her lips. Another memory pushed further into the past. Another step forward in giving herself to someone new. It made her chest ache in a strange way. Pinned firmly against the tree, the memory of her first kiss with Henry in his garden rushed to the forefront of her mind. There was the thrilling sensation of feeling so desperately wanted. Henry had been relentless with his passion, so relentless that the memory of it still burned her lips and set her heart aflame. Overwhelmed by the desperate love he exuded, she had panted for more of his affection, like she was doing now…
“Henry,” she moaned.
Elias stilled.
His head jerked back, his features twisted with scorn. “Ye would utter that name when … when …” He paused, shook his head and promptly stepped back. “My God, did ye imagine me to be him?”
Regret was not an adequate word to describe how she felt. Stupid. You stupid, stupid, stupid woman.
He took a deep breath. “Do ye still love him?” His tone was cold enough to freeze her.
Her heart plummeted into her stomach. “I—”
“Do ye?”
“I … I don’t…”
“He left ye and married another woman.”
“I don’t know why I said that … I’m drunk…” she whimpered. As if that excuse made it any better. “I’m sorry, please, I—”
He scoffed and turned away.
“Elias—”
“No.”
“I’m sorry.”
“He’s … he’s forgotten ye,” Elias stammered. His fists shook by his sides. “Don’t ye ken by now he’s fucked off to New York with his bloody riches and forgotten us all.”
Eva’s mind blanked in the silence that followed. There was an unusual harshness to his tone, making his words as sharp as a blade. She did not know what to say.
Elias gave her hard look. Without another word, he stormed off through the tree’s shadow in the direction of the pub.
She stood alone.
How had she gone from feeling so good to fighting the urge to cry? Oh, right. She had moaned her ex-boyfriend’s name to his best friend in the throes of pleasure. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
She left the park on unsteady legs, following the road to where their carriages were parked. The feeling of Elias’s beard still lingered, prickling the skin around her mouth.
A twinge of guilt forced the tears to come.
Not only did she feel guilty for moaning Henry’s name, but she also felt guilt for kissing Elias. Did a part of her still love Henry? Maybe. Who the hell knew? Whatever she felt, Elias was right. Henry had married another woman, gone away to New York and forgotten them all. She should hate him. And she did, didn’t she?
Before entering her tent, she looked at the full moon. Oddly enough, she was no longer thinking about Elias. All she could think of was whether Henry ever felt guilty when he kissed his wife.