My Laird's Love (My Laird's Castle Book 2) (13 page)

“Well, are we talking days? Weeks? A year?” Julie’s voice squeaked at the end.

“Not a year, but it might be a long time.” I wasn’t leaving until I was sure James was recovered and out of danger, that is if I could get back in time with antibiotics or whatever he needed.

By now, I could see the lights of what I supposed was Fort William.

“I’ve got to go, Julie. Thank you for helping me out, and I’m sorry.” I ended the call quickly before I heard any more of Julie’s anger, and I handed the phone back to Gordon.

“Thank you,” I said. “Is that Fort William?”

“Aye,” he said. “I had better call my sister.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Yes, of course.”

He punched in a number and waited for a moment before speaking in a low voice.

“Hello, sis,” Gordon said. I couldn’t help but eavesdrop. A moment passed before he spoke again.
 

“Yes, I’m almost there. A funny thing happened on the way to your house though. I’ve picked up a guest. I hope you don’t mind. She’s American, a little bit lost.” Gordon gave me a sideways glance and a half grin. “And she needs some help. Some medical help.”

I could hear a female voice on the other end, understandably loud by now.

“No, no,
she’s
not ill or injured, but I think she has an acquaintance or a friend who is. I’m sure she’ll explain. I couldn’t very well leave the poor girl by the road. I knew you would understand.”

I couldn’t tell if Gordon’s sister was understanding or not, but the conversation ended with him telling her he would be there shortly.

“That’s that then!” Gordon said. “My sister is confused, but she’s a gracious woman.”

“I really appreciate your help, Gordon. I can’t thank you enough.”

“I could not help but overhear some of the conversation with your cousin. She sounds quite upset.”

“Yes, she is. I disappeared on her, and I couldn’t tell her why. Just like I can’t tell you...or your sister.”

“I’m still not sure she can help you with what you need, but we’ll just have to wait and see.”

I nodded.

We drove on through the night, passing by Fort William before turning onto a narrow paved road. Gordon slowed before a set of open iron gates and drove through them. What I would call a mansion, but I supposed British people might call a country house, lay at the end of a short tree-lined drive. Two stories of lovely white plaster architecture glowed from the soft exterior lighting. Myriad symmetrical windows highlighted the large Victorian home.
 

Gordon pulled up in front of the house, and a woman opened the front door. Highlighted from the back as she was, I couldn’t see her face nor the face of the tall man who stood behind her. She descended a wide set of stone steps and approached the car as Gordon climbed out.

They hugged briefly, and Gordon came around to help me as I opened the passenger car door. His sister came around to my side of the car as well. Her expression, now visible from the lights of the house, was one of surprise as Gordon and I struggled to get my skirts and pannier out of the car. After some exertion, I popped out and would have toppled over if Gordon’s sister hadn’t caught my arm with a laugh.

“My goodness!” she said in a high-pitched voice. Shoulder-length curly dark hair swung around her slender shoulders. Like her brother, she bore a resemblance to Colin, although to a lesser degree. “Gordon never said you’d been to a costume ball!”

“She hasn’t, sis. I’m not very sure where she has been. Perhaps between the two of us, we can extract that information from her.”

“Well, come inside. Come inside,” she said in a no-nonsense voice. “You’re not even wearing a coat, though I can’t imagine you’d get cold in that dress.”

I followed her up the stairs, keeping an eye on Gordon, who pulled a small canvas suitcase from the backseat of his car. No matter what happened, Gordon was my ticket back to the river. I doubted he knew that yet.
 

“My name is Elizabeth. I go by Beth. And this is my husband, Gerry.” I blinked at her nickname and wondered if the name ran in the family. Were these really Beth’s descendants?

Beth II stopped at the top of the stairs, by the tall, willowy man with a thatch of thinning white hair. Gerry stuck out his hand, and I shook it.

“Welcome,” he said. “We understand you’ve had some trouble?”

He stood back and allowed us to enter. A large foyer greeted me, not unlike the entrance to Gleannhaven castle, if a little more modest. In this case, carpet protected the wooden stairs leading up to the second floor.

Beth II urged us forward into a room, which I assumed had been a drawing room or parlor in its heyday. Lovely pastoral paintings festooned the pale-green walls. Gold and green antique furniture, in excellent condition, dotted the room.

Beth guided me to a comfortable-looking forest-green velvet settee, and I sank into it, wondering how I was ever going to get up again.
 

“Let’s have some tea,” she said, picking up a small bell and ringing it. I watched in fascination as a woman came to the door. Older, plump and dressed conservatively in a dark-gray blouse and skirt, she nodded when Beth spoke quietly to her, and turned away at the door.
 

Beth herself wore dark-gray slacks and a warm yellow sweater over a light-colored blouse. Her husband also wore dark-gray slacks. His sweater was pale blue over an ivory open-collar shirt.

For the first time, I was able to fully study Gordon in the soft lighting of the drawing room. I had been right. He bore a remarkable resemblance to Colin, even down to the longish hair curling around his neck. In the act of removing his jacket, he stopped and eyed me, studying me from head to foot. He gave me a reassuring half smile.

I responded with a nervous smile of my own, clasped my hands on my lap and waited for an opportunity to speak. My heart pounded. How on earth was I going to ask for antibiotics for typhoid fever? What kind did I need?

Beth took a seat near me in a velvet-cushioned chair and crossed her legs. Gerry sat nearby, and Gordon leaned on the white decorative mantel above a fireplace. When Beth urged him to sit, he elected to stand.

“Let’s get right to it then, shall we, Maggie?” Beth said. “Gordon said you need medical help. Are you in pain? Have you been injured? Are you ill?”

I shook my head.

“No, it’s not for me,” I said. How I wished I could tell them the truth, that I knew their ancestors, Colin and Beth!

“It’s for a friend of mine. He has an infectious disease very uncommon in this day and age.”

“But you must bring him to the hospital!” Beth said. “What disease do you think he has?”

I swallowed hard. I just had to say it.

“Typhoid fever.”

Beth gasped, and I heard Gerry mutter. Gordon’s dark eyebrows shot up.

“Typhoid! Here in Scotland? Oh, that’s highly unlikely,” Beth said. “Was he diagnosed by a physician? With laboratory tests? Did he acquire the disease elsewhere and carry it here?”

I nodded.

“Yes, he has been diagnosed by a physician. They don’t have access to whatever antibiotics I need. He didn’t pick the disease up anywhere else.” I regretted that response. Maybe I should have said he had just come from another country.

“But he must have contracted it somewhere. Health Protection Scotland must be notified. Where is he now?” She leaned forward and fixed me with a severe stare.

“In a place where only I can reach him.” Beth’s eyes narrowed in what I assumed was growing anger. I looked at Gordon, but he watched me with seeming fascination. Gerry looked on with interest.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I wish I could explain better. If I try to tell you the truth, you won’t believe me. But I need antibiotics. My friend is going to die without them.”

“Nonsense,” Beth said. “Typhoid is highly curable given proper timely treatment. Are you certain he was not out of the country?”

“Yes, maybe that’s it,” I said, giving in. “Anyway, can you help me? I don’t know what kind of medicine he needs. The doctor treating him says he’s going to die.”

“By all means, you must bring him to the hospital!” Beth said. “Or I can call for an ambulance right now.” She pulled a small cell phone from her trouser pockets.

“No!” I almost shouted. “No,” I said on a calmer note. “No one can find him but me.”

“I simply do not know what you mean by that. Why on earth would you conceal a very sick man? What game are you playing?” Beth’s expression hardened.
 

“I’m not playing a game!” I protested. “I’m deadly serious about what I need.”
 

I was going to have to tell them. I had no choice.

Chapter Eleven

“My friend lives in the eighteenth century. His name is James Livingstone. I accidentally traveled through time to the eighteenth century. Everything was going along swimmingly until James came down with typhoid fever. I’m sure you know it was a lot more common then than it is now.”

All three stared at me as if I was nuts. I wasn’t surprised. My explanation lacked a lot of detail, and it hadn’t been particularly coherent.
 

I tried harder.

“You remember I asked you if you knew of a James Livingstone or Lochloon Castle?” I directed my question to a staring Gordon. “That’s where he lives...lived.”
 

“Lochloon Castle?” Beth interjected. “There’s an old ruin south of here that used to go by the name.”

A ruin? I couldn’t bear the thought.

“Do you seriously expect us to believe that you have traveled through time, Miss Scott?” Beth asked. I suspected that both Gordon and Gerry were just too polite to voice their skepticism. “What utter nonsense!”

I gritted my teeth.

“No, of course I don’t expect you to believe me, but it’s the truth. Why else do you think I’d be running around in this dress? Look at the stitching! It’s all handmade. No sewing machine has touched this little gem!”

I held out an arm offering up the lace at the end of my sleeve for inspection. Beth stood up and examined it. Then she bent near to examine the stitching on the bodice.

“It doesn’t have the regularity of a sewing machine, that’s certain,” she said with a dubious look in my direction as she settled back in her chair. “Nor does it look like an antique.”

“Well, I don’t know much about clothing,” Gordon spoke up, “but I’m inclined to give Maggie the benefit of the doubt. I do believe she vanished involuntarily. I could not help but overhear her conversation with her cousin, with whom she was traveling. Her cousin appears to be quite upset.”

Beth looked up at her brother and then her husband, who had remained silent.
 

“Miss Scott does appear to be in possession of her faculties, dear,” Gerry said quietly.
 

I gave him a grateful smile.

“Yes, of course,” Beth said, a little irritably. “I am not insinuating that Maggie is mentally unstable. I just cannot believe in anything as far-fetched as time travel. Such a notion has never been proven.” She looked toward her husband and Gordon. “I’m surprised that you two are so ready to accept such a story.”

Gordon just gazed at her in his unflappable manner, and Gerry grinned.

“I find the idea very intriguing,” Gordon said. “And as I said, I know she vanished. Her cousin’s anger was proof enough. I was the one who found her wandering about in the dark of night on a road, dressed in that costume.”

Beth rubbed her hands on her knees.

“Typhoid fever,” she repeated with a shake of her head. “How old is this man? You mentioned a James Livingstone. The Livingstones did own Castle Lochloon centuries ago. I suppose the descendants still do.”

“I don’t really know how old he is. I never asked him. He looks to be about thirty.”

“Height and weight?” Beth asked. “What are his symptoms?”

“About six foot two inches, a little over two hundred pounds, I’d say. He had some stomach pain yesterday and last night.” I paused. “I can’t believe it was just last night. It seems like a long time ago. I have to get back.” I had almost forgotten how urgent my errand was.

“Anyway,” I continued, “he grabbed at his stomach at dinner and fainted. He was burning up. The doctor came and said he had typhoid fever and that he would die. But I know he doesn’t have to die, not with antibiotics. I know typhoid fever is treatable now.”

“Yes, it is,” Beth said. “He would need a course of ciprofloxacin. I was going to say that he needs to be hospitalized, but you say that is not possible.” She eyed me as if I were going to change my mind and tell her I was kidding, that James was back at the house and could be picked up in an ambulance.

I shook my head. “No, he can’t. He really does live in the eighteenth century.”

“Next, I suppose you’ll say he was at Culloden,” Beth said.

“He was.”

Beth jumped up from her seat.

“Enough of that! I believe that you need the antibiotics, but I cannot believe the rest of your story. Come, we’ll go to an all-night pharmacy to get the medicine. If he is as sick as you say, there is no time to waste. Even if he survives, the longer he goes untreated, the more likely he is to sustain permanent damage.”