“Oh.” Eyes lowered, her fingers wiggled in his until he released her. He chuckled when the color in her cheeks deepened, and she tugged the gown’s neck ribbons tighter.
“I brought something to drink while we play chess.” He sat down and poured each glass half-full then handed her one.
He gazed intently at the sensuous way her fingers twined around the long stem. How many nights had he longed to have her fingers explore his body? To have her beneath him to take away the loneliness he’d lived with since he’d lost his parents. For one brief span of time, his greatest desire had come true.
Margaret’s accident had robbed him of that dream. Once again, he became a man without love, just a hollow shell without her to fill the void.
He’d suffered that aloofness since he’d had the mantel of chieftain laid upon his young shoulders. The duty of laird required a detachment between him and his people. Otherwise, some might question his judgments if they suspected he showed favoritism to someone close to him.
He opened a drawer on the table to extract the board and chess pieces. The same set his mother and father had spent hours each evening playing as he sprawled on the floor to watch.
“I do not believe I could concentrate on a game that requires such deep thought. I would prefer to talk.”
“About what?” He closed the drawer and picked up his glass to sip the sweet wine.
“I want to thank you for returning my ring.” Slender fingers worried the ring back and forth.
He enfolded her small hand in his and toyed with her fingers to stop her nervous movements. “The swelling had gone down. Ye should wear me wedding band.”
Her mouth opened then shut, apparently, preferring not to argue. “Yes, well I wanted to discuss my brooch.”
“Brooch?”
“Yes.” Her voice lowered to barely above a whisper. “When a stranger found me beside I-44, I possessed three things. This ring.” Her gazed dropped to where his thumb stroked her knuckle near the silver band. “A gown.” Her gaze drifted toward the wardrobe. “And an odd brooch.”
His finger stilled. “Margaret, ye cannae still believe ye came from the future. I’ve seen ye ride o’er the moors on a day when the sun shines so brightly ye think the green hills of Scotland would blind ye, and ye told me how ye loved the smell of heather as it crushed beneath yer horse’s hooves. Scotland be yer home.”
Reared back into her chair, she jerked her hand from his. “Nae. I dinnae belong here.”
“Aye, lass, ye do. Ye be me wife.”
Icy fear clutched his heart as the chill between them intensified. Her expression wavered from annoyance, to defiance, and then fixed on anger as she lurched to her feet.
“Nae.”
“Aye.”
He vaulted from the chair and yanked her into his arms. Standing this close, his gaze dropped downward to the gaping neckline of her nightdress. The soft lure of her exposed breasts was more than he could resist. Cupping her face in his hands, he tilted her head back, and ground his mouth against hers in a hard, fierce kiss. His mind warned him to be gentle, but his heart pushed him to prove to her that she belonged with him, to force her to understand nothing could separate them.
When she remained stiff and ridged her unyielding resistance penetrated his desperation. He softened the kiss. His tongue stroked the tight crease of her lips until they parted. The moment she relaxed and leaned against him, he cupped her sweet backside and shaped her body to his, wedging one knee between her legs.
This is what he wanted, needed: her soft and pliant in his arms. He grew rigid against the soft mound of her belly. Lifting her into his arms, he sat down in the chair with her across his thighs. When she squirmed her bottom deeper into his lap his shaft grew harder.
With one tug, the ribbon that tied her gown together unraveled, revealing the white globes beneath. Lost in a haze of passion, he tugged the gown down until her breasts spilled free. He licked his way down her throat. She moaned. Encouraged, he cupped her breast, teased the hard nubbin with his thumb, and then captured the peaked nipple with his mouth and sucked. Her head fell back against his arm, and her long hair flowed in a tawny cascade to the floor. The slender curve of her back arched, soft hands tangled in his hair as she pulled him closer. Soft mewling sounds emitted from her throat.
Eagerly he groped for the hem of her nightdress and his knuckles grazed the smooth skin of her leg. His heart pounded in anticipation. He palmed her knee then moved higher up her thigh. The velvet softness of her warm skin drove him crazy and his body quivered. His arousal pulsated against his belly and his breath came in labored gasp. His fingers had just wormed past the last barrier of her underclothes to find the treasure he sought when she grabbed his wrist.
“Nae, Liam.”
Her words doused his desire. He struggled to yank back the emotions rushing through him on the verge of breaking free. How could she gainsay the desire that waxed hot and strong between them? Her face wore the flush of passion and by the rapid way her breast rose and fell, he knew their lovemaking had affected her as deeply as it had him.
“How can ye deny us,
goal
.” By her adamant expression, he knew tonight would not end the way he’d planned. He restrained the natural urge of his body to continue.
She sat up and pushed his hand out from under her gown. Shaky fingers fumbled with the lacing at her neck.
“I know you believe I am your wife. But, I also know what I remember.” Her voice trembled as she glanced around the room then back at him. “And this is not it. I remember doctors, nurses, hospitals.” Her palm cupped his face.
“I also remember the desperation I felt when I awoke with no memory of who I was, where I came from. In my dreams, a man called my name over and over, yet when I opened my eyes, no one was there. Do you know what it is like to be alone with no family, to share your joys, your disappointments?”
“Aye, me
gaol
, I ken.”
Didn’t she realize that he’d been the one who called her name repeatedly during his prayers? That while she slept he’d talked insistently to her. Told her of the mischief he and Conner had gotten into as young lads. How at the end of the day, Conner would retire to the wing he shared with his parent’s while he went to another that held the laird’s empty suite of rooms.
“Then you understand why I must return to find my past? I cannot do that without the brooch.”
“Ye truly believe this?” He removed her hand from his face, kissed the palm, and laid it in her lap.
“Yes. The last thing I remember before I awoke here was wearing all three items. Then a swirling mist enveloped me and whirled me into a black darkness so thick I could see nothing. The next thing I saw was you beside my bed, claiming me as your wife. Can you imagine the confusion I felt?”
“Aye, I ken ye be confused, but the only way I ken how to bring back yer memory is to live our lives the way it was afore yer accident.”
By her heavy sigh, he knew it wasn’t the answer she wanted. She expected him to admit she wasn’t his wife. That she’d traveled through time and had lived in a place very different from her life here. Perhaps if she had the brooch, ring, and gown, and remained here, not transported to some distant future it would convince her she was his wife, Margaret Campbell-Menzies.
“I will ask everyone in the castle about the brooch. We will find it,” he promised, confident that she would see how wrong she was.
She set up straighter, hands clasped to her breast. “Truly?” Tears glistened in her blue eyes. “I can give you a description.”
“E’ryone here kens what the brooch looks like. I presented it to ye the night we were to consummate our marriage.”
Color blazed across her cheeks. As if she just realized she still sat on his lap, she jumped to her feet, brushed the hem of her gown down, and perched her sweet little bottom
that had warmed his loins only moments ago
on the edge of the chair opposite his.
“I am not Margaret. When I go home you will see.”
His bride gazed at him. Happiness radiated from her as if she thought his offer of help was an admission that she wasn’t Margaret.
“Aye. We will see.”
Sadness crept over him. His aspirations of spending the night in her bed vanished. What else could he say, do? He rose and left the room without a backward glance.
Maggie stretched her arms over her head and yawned. Her first thought upon awakening was that she was going home. Liam had agreed to help find the brooch, the last piece of the puzzle to her existence in this time and era.
She glanced at her new surroundings. The bed, larger and more comfortable than the one she’d awakened in, felt soft as down. Flipping the covers aside, she sat up and bounced on the edge of the fluffy mattress. The pale-blue paisley spread matched the canopy overhead and the draperies. Wide glass windows, not narrow slits, filled the room with bright sunlight. Two heavy doors, one that led to the hallway and another on the far wall, were made of the same dark wood as the four-poster bed, wardrobe, and dresser.
A faint tap sounded on hard wood a moment before Ursula peeked around the edge of the door. “Ye be awake.”
“Yes. Come in.” The knowledge that she’d be home soon gave her voice a light and airy tone.
“Ye seem chipper this morn. Would ye like to have a bath? The lads will be up in a moment with buckets of warm water.”
Ursula gimped over to a tri-fold screen and pushed it aside to reveal a small room with a large pedestal tub. A mirror with an elaborately carved frame hanged from the wall. Beneath the mirror sat a short table and padded stool. Marvelous. It was as close to a modern bathroom as she would come. If only she had the lavender, body wash Abby had given her as a gift.
At a timid knock, Ursula opened the door. A horde of young boys tromped across the floor and poured buckets of steaming water into the tub. After they left, Ursula stayed by her side as she walked into the bathing area and sat on the bench. The old woman hovered over her while she undressed.
“I will be fine, Ursula. You may go about your business while I bathe.” Her strength had begun to return with food and exercise, and soon she could search the rest of the castle.
“I be cleaning yer room if ye need anything.” Ursula set the screen in place, giving Maggie the privacy she craved. She heard Ursula opening and closing drawers, and the soft swish of material as she made the bed.
She trailed her fingers in the water to test the temperature then quickly stripped the rest of her clothing off and slowly sank to her neck into the warm liquid. The scent of lavender wafted around her. A bar of hard soap and a bathing cloth lay on a small table next to the tub. Lifting the soap to her nose, she sniffed. Lavender. She spotted a vial, picked up the glass container and pulled out the stopper. Mmmm. Lavender, also. Ursula must have placed several drops in the water to make her bath smell of her favorite scent.
“Ursula.”
“Aye, lass.” Ursula’s voice sounded muffled and distant through the tri-fold door.
“Where did you find the lavender oil and soap?”
“They be in the things ye brought with ye.”
Her body jerked forward as gamut of bewildering emotion rushed through her. Water lapped at the tub’s edge. Ursula had to be mistaken. She hadn’t brought these items with her.
“What!”
“Aye. I unpacked them from the trunk yer mum and da sent. Yer gowns and such be in the wardrobe, undergarments ’ere in the drawers, and writing things in the secretary.”
Her indrawn breath hissed through her clinched teeth as she relaxed. These were Margaret’s items, not hers. How odd that she and Margaret had such similar preferences. The coincidence troubled her.
“Thank you for your help.”
She had to continue to let Ursula believe she was Margaret. She only hoped it didn’t upset Margaret when she returned and discovered Maggie had helped herself to her belongings.
“The Laird will be up to see ye in a while.”
Her pulse quickened at the thought of seeing Liam again. Had he found the brooch? Is that why he wanted to see her? Memories of last night when she sat on his lap while he kissed her senseless swamped her. Her body felt heavy and warm. Beneath the water her nipples hardened and hot liquid pooled between her legs. Hundreds of years separated them, yet a physical attraction drew them together as surely as a storm beckons the flash of lightning.
To wash away the sensuous thought of another woman’s husband, she dipped her head under the water and used the bar of soap to lather her hair. After scrubbing her hair, she dunked her head once again to rinse out the suds. Soap ran down her face and stung her eyes. Using the towel laid out for her to dry with, she dabbed at the burning liquid.
Pulling several strands forward she inspected the bubbly mass. She opened her mouth to call for Ursula when she heard the door open and close in the next room. Ursula left. Now what? How could she rinse her hair free of soap without help?
“Stand and I’ll pour clean water o’er yer head.”
The husky command startled her. With a splash, she sank under the water until only the top of her shoulders were visible. She glared at Liam.
“I cannot stand up. You will see me naked.” By the wicked grin on his face, she realized that was his intentions. “Where is Ursula?”