A Time for Everything (2 page)

Quirking a brow, he added, “I hanna heard tell of Beauly. Is this a place ye’ve been afore?”

“Not exactly. I found it on a map. See, I went out for a walk. Left Inverness, planned to return by way of Beauly. Thought I’d hire a cab to take me back to my lodging.”

“Ye have a strange way of speaking, lass…” He eyed her again. “’Tis not lookin’ as if ye have the means to hire aught.”

She would have rolled her eyes but didn’t want to provoke him. He was definitely taking this reenactment thing way too far. “Well, your speech is odd to my ears too.” Sam put her hands on her hips. “Are you going to help me or not?”

Her directness seemed to throw him off guard. Maybe in his eighteenth century universe, women were seen and not heard. At last he said in the same soothing voice he’d used earlier, “Certainly, lass. Of course I will come to your aid. If ye’d follow me then?”

Can I trust him?
Sam looked around her. It would be truly dark soon. She did not want to be out in the wet Highlands after dark. Not after all the Celtic myths she’d taken to reading once Clint had exited stage left. She hadn’t even brought as much as a flashlight with her. Never mind warmer clothing. A shiver tracked down her body. For the first time, it occurred to her how vulnerable she was.
I might die out here. Maybe this guy is an ax murderer…
She thought about her phone again and wondered if she could latch on to a signal.

Almost as if he could read her mind, the man put a bit more distance between them. “My name is Angus,” he said. “Of Clan MacTavish.” He gave a formal little bow. “Surely ye’ll have heard of me.”

Why you arrogant son-of-a…
she thought and stifled a snort. “No, actually, I haven’t. But I do need to return to Inverness. If you can help, that would be great.”

“Great? Are ye meaning bigger? There isna Great or Small Inverness, lass. There’s only the one.”

She did roll her eyes this time. “Oh, let’s just get going.” She mouthed a prayer to whatever Celtic goddess might guard the Highlands, asking for protection. As soon as they got to Inverness, she’d dump this turkey and give her travel agent a call. If she woke him up, so what?

Angus is a pretty good-looking specimen,
one of her inner voices piped up.

Sam just made a noise that sounded like
hmmmph,
and trotted through the muck after her self-appointed protector. Her feet squelched in wet socks as she walked. She wasn’t certain she remembered feeling quite so wretched at any other time in her life. Not even when her outdoorsy father had insisted on dragging her along on horse-packing trips in Canada and it had snowed on them—for days. Those trips had yielded dramatic photographic materials for Seagram’s commercials, though.

Whenever she’d complained, her father had reminded her that the video crew was far more miserable than she since they couldn’t manipulate their equipment with gloves on. That was her dad, though. Anything for Seagram’s. Rah, rah, rah.
Maybe when I get back I’ll take him up on that job offer,
she thought morosely. In the couple of years since she’d earned it, her MBA had done nothing but gather dust on a shelf.

Geoffrey—her ten-years-older brother who was supposed to take over company operations—had been killed in a Lear jet crash the previous year. Every time she stepped into his empty office it gave her the creeps. And made her sad. He’d been a wonderful big brother and she missed him. Both her parents wanted family running the company. Family had always run it. They’d spare no expense building her the office of her dreams. But Seagram’s wasn’t what she wanted. Guilt rose hot in her gullet. The second worst thing about Geoffrey’s death—nipping at the heels of her pain at losing him—had been what it meant about her future. Sam felt petty and ungrateful but didn’t know what to do about it.

More to clear her head than anything else, she watched Angus threading his way through the thickening mist. He moved gracefully, amazingly light on his feet for such a big man. For a moment, he reminded her of a large, lithe jungle cat with the swing of his hips and arms. Hatless, his head was tipped upward. Rain had to be running down the open neck of that plaid thing he had wrapped around him, yet it didn’t seem to bother him. She gazed at the strangely long kilt and wondered what was beneath it, then reined herself in.
Not now. Not him. Get back to Inverness. Find the first flight out of Glasgow and get out of here.

It took longer than she expected, but after about half an hour, lights came into view, oddly dispersed by fog that had done nothing but get worse. She wondered what had happened to the ones she thought she’d seen just before she met Angus. But when she tried to ask about them, all he did was shake his head and tell her patiently—in a mild tone reserved for the mentally challenged—that she must have imagined them.

Through it all, the rain hadn’t abated one whit.
Geez, I thought Seattle was bad. It’s positively sun-drenched compared with this.
If anything, the weather was worse now than it had been when she stood in the midst of the bog. A brisk wind plastered her wet clothing against her, leaching the warmth right out of her body. Mercifully, Angus hadn’t tried to engage her in further conversation beyond answering her question about the lights. It seemed that, though they both spoke English, words meant something quite different to each of them.

“Think I’ll be fine now.” She spoke brightly and gestured toward the lights. “If you have somewhere you need to go, or something you need to do, that’s okay by me.”

He spun so rapidly she ran into him.

“Ooph! Uh, sorry.” She took a couple of steps backward, trying not to think about how tempting he’d felt up against her body. For the briefest of moments, a wild light flared in his eyes. It blended with untamed man into something so sexual it was all she could do not to sink her fingers into that dark mane of hair and pull his mouth down to hers.

“What? And leave you alone without protection? That is far from a good idea, lass. I am thinkin’ you are but a simple thing. I’ll release you to your kin, the Macquires, as soon as I can locate them. It may take a few days, but dinna fear, I’ll see you safe to home.”

“I told you,” she said through gritted teeth, “I have lodging in Inverness. Once we’re there I won’t need you anymore. What part of that didn’t sink in?”

He placed his hands on her shoulders. Heat sank into her, making shivers run up her spine. Next he tipped her chin upward so he could look at her in what was left of the day’s light. “What might the name of these lodgings be?”

Close like this, he smelled enticing. A mixture of rain-wet male and something spicy and exotic she couldn’t name. Was it sandalwood? Or maybe myrrh? She shook her head. What had he asked her again? Oh yes, her hotel. “I’m staying at the Regis Arms.”

He cocked his head to one side. “There is no such establishment in Inverness.”

“Oh, please.” She stepped away and moved as fast as she could toward the lights she saw flickering through the misty night air. Footsteps sounded behind her, making sucking noises as he pulled each foot out of the slimy mud. Sam figured it would be impossible to outrun him, but she quickened her pace just the same.

Her heart beat wildly in her chest as fear shot through her. Angus was truly insane. Why had she agreed to let him lead her anywhere?
Because I didn’t know where I was.
And I wouldn’t have been able to find the way by myself.
That last was true. Angus had taken at least two turns off the main track she would have missed if left to her own devices.

The lights were getting brighter. Sam rushed forward, excited to be so close to safety. She started planning what she would do as soon as she got to her rooms. The very first thing was stripping out of her wet-to-the-skin clothing and running a hot bath. The track widened into a street. But there was something wrong. Where was the pavement? The street was cobblestones and mud with water running down the middle and both sides. When she looked up and down it, she saw the light came from lanterns hanging from hooks in front of rough wooden shop fronts.

“That bastard,” she spat, chest tightening in fury. When she turned to look for Angus, he was right behind her. Too tired to worry about inciting someone who was mentally ill to violence, she grabbed his arms and shook him. “Where the fuck have you brought me?” she shrieked. Letting go, she swung one hand in an arc. “What is this? Some sort of reenactment camp? If this is your idea of a joke, Angus—if that’s really even your name—I don’t think it’s very funny. Now which way is Inverness?”

Chapter 2

His eyes widened. His nostrils flared. He spread his hands before him, fingers splayed wide in a placating gesture. “Lass, calm yourself. This is Inverness. Come inside one of the inns with me. Ye’re wet to the skin and pale as ice. I’ll buy you some warm spiced ale. Soon ye’ll be feeling more like yourself.”

“Like hell I will,” she snarled. “This is about the lamest seduction scheme I’ve ever come across.” Spinning on her heel, she headed for the nearest tavern door. Surely someone inside would help her. Christ. Did it ever stop raining in this godforsaken country?

Sam pushed the door open and strode inside. She had to duck so her head wouldn’t hit the lintel. The bar was dark and smoky. When she’d entered it had been noisy, but conversation ceased in juts and jerks as people pointed at her. An apron-clad man who stank of sweat and rancid grease sidled over. “There be no work here. I run an honest house. Take yer … uh, wares elsewhere, miss.”

“Ye’re bein’ hasty, Mac,” a raucous voice yelled from over near the fire pit. “She can come sit on my lap—breeks and all.” Laughter spread through the tavern. Whistles split the air.

“Eh, try my lap, not his,” someone else shouted. “It’s bigger.” Laughter raced through the crowd. When she looked closely, Sam saw, aside from a few serving maids, everyone in the bar was male.

She drew herself up. “You’ve made a mistake,” she said, addressing the man in the apron. “I’m lost. I need to find Inverness. Could you tell me which way it is from here? If you had a map, that would be even better.”

The silence that fell was complete. She felt many sets of eyes just staring at her. Had the whole world gone mad? The door banged against its stops. Angus stooped so he could come inside. “The lass is a wee bit addled,” he announced in a voice that carried. “I will be seein’ she gets back to her Irish family.” He held out a hand. His next words were very soft and clearly enunciated as if she were brain damaged. “Now come on with me, Siobhan. There’s a good lass.”

Sam considered contradicting him, then thought better of it. Something very odd was going on here. It was as if she’d stumbled into a bad episode of
The
Twilight Zone
. She’d met reenactors before. None of them had acted like this, even at their black powder rallies where they dressed up like Civil War soldiers.

“Likely story, MacTavish,” someone called from the back of the room. “Ye’re just wantin’ the Irish for yersel’.”

“Aye, ’tis been better than a year since ye lost that wife o’ yourn,” someone else said. “’Tis a long time to have a cold bed.”

Angus’ lips drew back from his teeth in a snarl. “I’ll not be takin’ that from the likes of ye, MacDuff. Ye’ll not be mentionin’ Moira’s name. Not ever again, by all the blessed saints.” He reached out suddenly and grabbed Sam’s arm. “We are leavin’, lass. Now.”

Because she didn’t see any percentage in staying in the weird bar where the proprietor thought she was a whore looking for johns, Sam bit down on her lower lip and followed Angus out into the storm. The second the door slammed behind them, she jerked away.

Jaw clenched against a sudden cold that made her blood feel as if it were made of sludge, she said, “I still want to go to Inverness.”

He nodded and said slowly and evenly. “Lass. I have no call to lie to you. This
is
Inverness. Now, let me find us lodging for the night. ’Tis much too far to take you to my holdings on such a night as this.”

“I am not sharing a room with you.”

A shocked look blossomed on his face, illuminated by a nearby lantern. “Of course not, lass. What do ye take me for?”

Because she was fresh out of ideas, Sam let Angus lead her down the street and into a rickety three-story building. At his direction, she settled next to a smoky fire pit in
The King’s Arms
. Her mind kept tripping over itself, and she kept silent as she tried to figure out what she should do. Warm ale arrived in a filthy glass along with a grease-laden stew. When she asked Angus what was in it, he smiled and said, “Mutton.”

“That’s like sheep?” She could have kicked herself. With all those fucking sheep roaming the Highlands, what else would be on the menu? “Uh, never mind,” she muttered. While she picked at her food, her eyes took in the room. Whoever owned the place was doing a good job of hiding any modern conveniences—like electricity or heat from anything other than the fire. Then she looked at the people. Either they’d done an exceptional job of finding a costumer to make matching period clothing or something was very wrong. There wasn’t a pair of jeans in the room. Or boots that didn’t look homemade. Reenactors didn’t usually pay that level of attention to their clothing.
Where am I?
Sam’s breathing quickened.

“Are ye not hungry then?” Angus looked at her barely-touched bowl.

She shook her head. He whistled sharply. One of the serving maids raced over. “Yes, my laird?”

“Show the lady to her room, please.”

Fighting panic as the oddness from downstairs nagged at her, Sam trudged up two narrow, winding flights of stairs. She blinked in dismay as the girl with stringy blonde hair, badly in need of washing, pushed open a stout door on the third floor and handed her a heavy metal key and a lit candle stub. The girl looked frightened half to death, and Sam realized she couldn’t be much more than about fourteen.

“But where’s the bathroom?” she blurted before the maid could scurry back down the stairs. The girl’s blue eyes widened. Clearly word of Sam’s
madness
had spread through the little town like wildfire.