“’Tis good you’re home,” Fin said again.
“
’Tis good to
be
home.”
“Change, son, and we
’ll see you downstairs.”
Simon glanced at the blue jeans fitting snuggly against his skin before nodding.
* * * *
Every inch of Helen
’s skin buzzed. Amber escorted her to her room where she proceeded to remove a couple of gowns for Helen’s inspection. “You and I look to be similar in size,” Amber said, holding up yards of material in the shape of a dress.
“Why can
’t I just wear this? It isn’t like you guys don’t know where I come from.”
“Our family understands, but the others have no idea.”
“The others?”
“The servants, my father
’s men.”
So far, Helen had only seen the multitude of MacCoinnichs. The thought of employees running around this ancient stone Keep hadn
’t occurred to her. “I didn’t think of that.”
“
’Tis very important to keep where and when you’re from away from the others. We don’t call attention upon ourselves as Druids. Perhaps Simon has already told you, but in these times to be called out as a witch would mean death.”
Helen swallowed. “I don
’t shoot fire from my hands like Simon. I shouldn’t have any problems.”
Amber placed a dark umber gown on her bed and returned the other to a trunk. “I
’ll teach you.”
“Teach me what?” Helen sat and toed off her shoes.
“To shoot fire from your hands.”
“I don
’t think so. I’ve gone my whole life without that talent, no need to start it now.”
“You make it sound as if you
’re old.”
Helen felt old. Like she
’d lived a hundred years in her small handful. All the family members who surrounded Simon on their arrival made her remember all the years she’d gone without. Still went without. Mrs. Dawson was the closest to family she had and she was thousands of miles and hundreds of years away.
Amber placed a hand on her arm and flinched. “I
’m sorry.”
“I
’m not offended.”
“For your loss. I
’ve always had my family and can’t imagine what it must have been like to have grown up alone. It must have been difficult.”
Helen opened her mouth to question how Amber knew so much, and then remembered Simon telling her about Amber
’s empathic gift. “Life isn’t fair. In fact, it sucks most of the time.” Wanting to change the subject, Helen tugged her t-shirt from her shoulders. “So how do I get into this thing?”
Twenty minutes later, Amber escorted her down a dark hall and to a set of massive stairs. MacCoinnich Keep was huge. Stone walls reached high overhead. Wall sconces with candles burned as they walked down the stairs. Everywhere Helen looked was another impressive antique. Though it wasn
’t antique at present. She fingered a tapestry hanging on the wall for warmth. “The latest in modern medieval,” she whispered.
“My mother
’s actually.”
Helen stopped and pulled away to take in the needle and thread art. “Your mother made this…by hand?”
“We don’t have machines, nor electricity to run them.”
“That
’s amazing. The hours she must have put into it.”
“Years. Nearly a decade, actually.”
“Wow.” And it was
wow.
Who did this kind of thing?
“There you two are.” Simon walked into the room and paused.
As his gaze travel down Helen’s frame, hers did the same to his. He’d transformed into a Scottish Highlander with a long kilt. The shirt he wore tapered at his waist, his broad shoulders emphasized by the clothing on his back. He was even more gorgeous in a kilt.
The way his heated gaze raked over her body in the dress Amber provided gave Helen
’s heart a little kick.
Helen sucked in her lower lip and returned her eyes to his. He wore a tiny smile and mischief danced behind it.
“Amazing,” he whispered as he reached her side and placed her hand in the crook of his arm. Electricity zinged from the contact. He offered the other to Amber and walked them both into what Helen thought was a dining room.
She had little time to consider the man who traveled back and forth in time with her as Simon
’s extended family surrounded them both.
“Sit over here,” Tara, or maybe it was Myra, who spoke. Placing the names with faces would take some time she figured.
Thankfully, Simon sat beside her and addressed everyone around them by name. All the children sat at the far end of the table and waited patiently for the meal to begin.
Ian, the Laird of the MacCoinnich clan started the small feast once the servants filled the room.
Helen sat in awe of the amount of people streaming from a kitchen. Some eyed her with curiosity, but none said anything directly. Perhaps they were used to strangers ‘popping up’ out of nowhere and kept their thoughts to themselves.
“
’Tis good to see ye home, Lord Simon.” One of the servants braved.
“
’Tis good to be home, Maggie,” he said with a wink.
Once the servants left the room, Lora said, “I
’ve had a room prepared for you adjacent from Amber’s.”
Was that an inconvenience? Was she putting someone out? “Thank you.”
“There are many empty rooms,” Simon told her. “Once the children started coming, expansion on the Keep became necessary.”
“Filled with love and laughter, right children?” Lora asked.
“Aye, Nana.”
Helen helped pass trays loaded with cooked meats, bread, and vegetables around the table.
“Do you have family, lass?” The question came from Ian.
“No, not really.” She moved along a tray of beef after taking a small sliver for herself.
“No family?” one of the kids asked.
“I
’m an orphan.” The words were spoken on autopilot, but the entire family paused. “It’s okay. I’ve been that way my whole life. No big deal.”
“I
’m sorry,” Fin,
earthquake man
said.
“Don
’t be. I’m used to it.
“No sisters, brothers?”
Helen shook her head.
“Who raised you?”
The food started to flow around the table again, but ears were intent on her answers. “Foster parents…life. I have Mrs. Dawson,” she said defensively. Helen wasn’t completely alone.
“Mrs. Dawson is like us,” Simon said, as if the words meant she were part of a cult or religion. “She has a large, private estate where we will return.”
Ian scanned behind Simon. When the room was void of anyone but family, he said, “Tell us what happened.”
Helen nibbled on her meal as Simon explained what transpired since he
’d left.
As his story unfolded, and the watchful eyes of his family sat in acceptance of every strange happening, Helen was reminded of how alone she
’d been all her life. What would it have been like to have a family who accepted your word as gospel simply because they believed in you? All her life, she had to prove herself to anyone and everyone who crossed her path. With the MacCoinnichs, life didn’t roll that way.
As the adults spoke, the children attended to each other, the oldest helping the youngest with an occasional direction from an adult. Laird Ian listened, as did most of the men without so much as a creased brow or exclamation.
The women watched her.
The crazy thing was, when a servant stepped into the room the MacCoinnich
’s skipped into casual conversation. “How is the meal? How high can Ian lift his sword?” The answers were given, and then as soon as they were alone, the chat shifted to the subject of Helen and Simon’s travel in time. The well practiced art of deception. Funny, Helen always thought deceit had a nasty connotation to the meaning. This family didn’t seem to have any bad vibes to speak of.
Yet, the entire meal was surreal.
Simon relayed the past few days, and Helen only offered answers to the questions he couldn’t answer.
Myra, who looked an awful lot like Amber, helped the children from the table and resumed what Helen thought were bedtime rituals. The adults moved to the massive hall and gathered around the hearth.
“What do you plan now?”
“We need to go back and determine what Philip was searching for.”
“He could be a petty thief,” Todd said. “Though, I doubt it.”
“I doubt it, too. He left with nothing and acted like a man with a secret.”
“Could he be Druid?” Amber asked.
“I didn
’t get close enough to tell.”
Helen shrugged. “Don
’t look at me. I didn’t know anything about Druids until last week.”
Lizzy laughed. “A few of us know the feeling. Crazy, isn
’t it?”
“Nuts.”
“You’ll get used to it.”
“If he is Druid, there is no telling what he
’s capable of.”
Helen glanced at Lora. “What do you mean?”
“Not all of us use our gifts for good.” For the first time that night, Cian spoke. During the entire meal, he’d only listened, his eyes occasionally drifting toward her. Because he chose that moment to speak, and because of the words he used, a cold dart of uncertainty traveled over her body.
“What do you mean? You think he might want to hurt me?”
“Mayhap.”
Simon swung his head toward Cian, he eyes narrowed. “We shouldn
’t speculate.”
“No, you need to investigate,” Todd said.
“Exactly. This is why we need to return. We’d like to go back with reinforcements.”
Simon watched the head of the house and waited for Ian to nod.
“Amber can help determine Philip’s intentions.”
Ian
’s jaw tightened. But before he could say a thing, Simon added. “And Cian and I can escort Amber and Helen.”
Chapter Thirteen
After hardly sleeping the night before, Helen shoved aside the plush blankets on the softest bed she
’d every lay and moved to the hearth to stoke the smoldering logs. The room was small compared to the one Simon slept in, but larger than the one in her apartment in California. The solitude of the past few hours helped ground her thoughts. For the first time in her life, she was surrounded by a loving family who thought of each other first, then thought of the world second. They accepted her as if they knew she was coming, and as if she’d play a vital part in their lives.
Throughout the previous evening, she was assured they
’d help her find a way home. The only guarantees Helen had in her life were the ones she made happen so to trust in the Clan MacCoinnich was a huge step. She’d put aside her worry about being trapped in time and bask in the world unfolding in front of her.
She
’d always appreciated art in its many forms. The tapestries, paintings, candelabras, and furnishings were all pieces of art that would sell in the thousands if not millions. Everything she saw had a practical use—well most of it. Tapestries and rugs kept the walls and floors warm. Still the cold from outside seeped into the rooms and reminded you there wasn’t any central heating system to ward off the chill.
The paintings were the only snapshots in time. Something Tara had encouraged the family to commission. Ian and Lora
’s portrait dominated the main hall. Duncan and Tara along with Myra and Todd, Fin and Lizzy all had their portraits along the galley at the top of the stairs. Helen wondered where the paintings were in her century. She’d not seen them before, or she’d have remembered them. Maybe a private collector or a distant relative kept them hidden. She made a mental note to search them out when she returned home.
Helen poured water into a basin and washed away some of the sleep from her eyes.
Amber had told her to prepare for a solid day of learning the ways of Scotland in the sixteenth century. “Open your eyes and ears, but say little unless to me or the family. Best not to call attention to yourself.”
Impossible. Already the maids eyed her with cautious unease.
A soft knock on the door pulled Helen out of her thoughts.
“Come in.”
Amber glided into the room with two maids at her heels. “Good morning to you, Helen. I hope you slept well.”
“I did,” she lied.
“This is Lita and her sister Anabel. Both work wonders with a needle and thread and will help us tailor a few things for you to wear.”
The maids actually dipped into short curtseys before unloading their hands of the yards of material they carried.
Helen started to protest, but a stern look from Amber had her shutting her mouth before uttering a syllable. Open your eyes, close your mouth.
I guess the lessons begin now.