Authors: Terisa Wilcox
When she still did
not
answer, he put his face
very
close to hers. Look
ing
direct
ly
into her eyes, he shook
her again with a bit more force at the same time call
ing
her name.
Final
ly
, she blinked once, twice. When she began to
focus on him, he picked up the goblet and held it to her lips. She sipped the
sweet wine he offered. She looked so bewildered and small sitt
ing
in the large chair, his
heart went out to her, though he quick
ly
tried to erect a wall around it. No emotions, he reminded himself resolute
ly
, they led to
not
h
ing
but trouble, especial
ly
where a woman
was
concerned.
"Am I dream
ing
?"
"Nay, lass, ye are
quite
awake."
"I
was
afraid of
that
."
Sudden tears blinded her eyes and choked her voice. She covered her face with
trembl
ing
hands and
gave vent to the agony in her heart. She wept aloud, rock
ing
back and forth as she
yielded to the compulsive sobs
that
shook her.
Iain watched her, bewildered as
to what to do. She looked so delicate and helpless. He
was
at a loss as to what to do with a woman who
had
obvious
ly
received a shock. He
had
no idea how to respond
or comfort her. He stood silent
ly
for a moment before he gathered her in his arms and held her snug
ly
to him. To his surprise,
she wound her arms around his neck, buried her face against his shoulder, and
continued to bawl like a bairn.
Her entire body engulfed in tides
of weariness and despair, she shook with the force of her continued sobs. Where
she dredged up more tears, she did
n't
know, but they kept com
ing
.
She
was
empty and
drained and should be well cried out by now.
Final
ly
, after what seemed half a lifetime to Iain,
she hiccupped and drew a deep shudder
ing
breath. He brushed a gentle kiss to her forehead, seek
ing
on
ly
to comfort her. Though for the life of him, he did
n't
understand the compulsion to do so.
Kris quivered at the feel of his
lips on her forehead when he brushed a gentle kiss there. She looked up and his
lips slow
ly
descended
to meet hers. It
was
a
kiss for her tired soul to melt into. Her mind told her to resist, but her body
refused to obey the command.
"Lass," Iain broke the
kiss unexpected
ly
,
leav
ing
her senses
whirl
ing
. She shook
her head to clear the befuddled thoughts. "There is
not
h
ing
I would
like
more at this moment than to continue with
that
kiss, but ye are too weary and upset right now. I will nay take advantage of ye
in your current state. 'Twould be unfair and unchivalrous for me to do the
like
."
Kris felt her cheeks flame. What
was
wrong with her? She'd
kissed the man
like
he
was
her last link to
sanity. She
was
emotional
ly
distraught, she knew
that
,
but she'd practical
ly
thrown herself at him. She felt Iain shake his head.
"Nay. Dinnae be embarrassed
by
that
wee kiss,
lass. 'Tis normal for such a th
ing
when emotions are high and overwhelm
ing
to us. We tend to want to find comfort where we can and sometimes turn
ing
to a
not
her to seek
that
comfort is expected,
e'en sought after."
Kris lo
were
d her head and nodded, understand
ing
what he said but
not
lik
ing
it one bit. It might be
normal, but it
was
still unacceptable behavior as far as she
was
concerned.
"I just need some time to
accept all of this."
Iain nodded as if he understood
exact
ly
what 'all of
this' meant, when in reality, he
had
no idea. He turned with her still in his arms and strode to the bed. He heard
her soft gasp, but paid it no heed.
"I think it would do ye well
to get some more rest, lass."
He glanced down once then looked
quick
ly
away. She
looked entire
ly
too
entic
ing
in his arms. The
more he thought about it, the better off he'd be if he got some answers from
her and got her back to where she belonged as soon as possible. Or, how did she
put it? ASAP, aye,
that
was
it. He deposited
her tender
ly
on the
bed and covered her with a warm blanket.
"Rest, lass." Unable to
resist, he brushed a stray lock of hair off her face. "We shall speak
later." He pulled the covers up to her chin and turned away, his eyes
scann
ing
the room.
He knew
that
bag Raibert
had
spoken of
was
somewhere in this room. The question
was
where
had
Elsie hidden
it? It might help some if he
had
an idea what he looked for. He shrugged.
When he
was
certain Kristianna
was
asleep, he would come back and search for
it. He would just look for someth
ing
that
did
not
belong.
* * *
With a quick glance in
Kristianna's direction, Iain crossed to the wardrobe she
had
been so insistent on mov
ing
earlier. It still stuck
out from the wall several inches. What she'd been look
ing
for behind it, he
had
no idea, but she'd been
that
determined about it.
Perhaps Elsie
had
put the bag inside there.
He opened the closet doors and began to rummage about quiet
ly
on its floor. Find
ing
not
h
ing
,
he opened the drawer and searched around for someth
ing
besides cloth
ing
in the dim, pre-dawn light. He found
not
h
ing
out of the ordinary
there, either.
He straightened and looked around
the room, his eyes com
ing
to rest on the chest beneath the window. As he crossed the room to check inside
it, he spotted someth
ing
pok
ing
out from
beneath the bed out of the corner of his eye. Chang
ing
direction mid-stride, he knelt beside the
bed.
Kristianna stirred. He halted and
checked to be sure she slept still before he reached his hand beneath the bed. With
a wide grin, he pulled the bag forth and held it up in triumph. With a last
glance at Kristianna, he tiptoed to the door so as
not
to disturb her.
Once in the hall, he quickened
his pace and returned to his own chambers where he could more thorough
ly
inspect this odd bag.
Iain set the strange look
ing
contraption in the
center of the oak table and took a step back, look
ing
at it thoughtful
ly
. It
was
like
no other sack or
purse he'd ever seen before.
With a frown, he picked it up to
inspect it more close
ly
.
He gave it a quick shake, but
not
h
ing
happened. How did the
confounded th
ing
open?
St. Michaels toes, how
was
he supposed to find out anyth
ing
if he could
n't
even
open the infernal th
ing
?
He knew it contained many items, for it
was
heavy and rattled when he shook it.
He set it back on the table and
glared at it fierce
ly
,
as if by his will alone it would open for him. Somehow, he would figure out how
it opened, and if he did
not
,
there
was
always his
dirk.
* * *
Kris woke with a start,
not
sure where she
was
for a moment. She put
her hand to her head as the events of the previous day came back to her in a
rush. Pray
ing
once
again she'd dreamed the entire th
ing
,
she sat up and looked around the room. In the dim light
that
shone from the cracks in the shutters she could
make out
not
h
ing
except the large,
four-poster bed she slept in.
She rose with hands outstretched,
not
want
ing
to bump into anyth
ing
. Mak
ing
her way cautious
ly
to the window, she closed
her eyes and took a deep breath before she flung open the shutters darken
ing
the room.
The sun
was
just mak
ing
itself known on the horizon. Kris' breath caught in her throat. Never
had
she seen a more
beautiful sunrise. The sky lit with a vivid blue, pink, orange and purple. She
stood at the window for several long moments and just enjoyed the spectacular
view.
Although if she
were
honest with herself,
she'd admit to be
ing
afraid to look down.
She could hear people below her
mill
ing
about, but
refused to look at them to see what they wore.
She should turn around and see
what the room looked
like
first. Would she be in the room she'd gone to sleep in before she'd run into
that
Iain MacGregor look-a-
like
? Or would she still be
in the room
that
self-same
Iain MacGregor
had
tucked her into bed in last night?
With a sigh she realized she
could
n't
put off the
inevitable forever. Sooner or later she'd
have
to look and face whatever reality fate chose to thrust upon her poor hapless
self this morn
ing
. She
whirled fast; too escape giv
ing
herself time to change her mind.
She swore, someth
ing
she rare
ly
did unless she
was
on the whole peeved and
frustrated and
really
angry. Her grand
mother
's
voice chided her silent
ly
for such a lack of control.
Kris shrugged it aside. Even her
grand
mother
could
forgive her for her choice of words in this particular instance. The room
looked the same as the one she'd gone to sleep in last night. This meant she
was
either still dream
ing
, please God, or this
was
really
happen
ing
.
She cursed again, choos
ing
a few of her brother
Lucas' favorites.
Not
that
it changed anyth
ing
, but it did make her
feel better for a moment.
Now what
was
she supposed to do? She slid to the floor
and hung her head wish
ing
with all her heart she did
n't
have
to face this
reality. Somehow, she'd
have
to find a way home, if there
was
a way.
She did
n't
even know how she'd gotten here in the
first place, so how could she return to her time?
She shoved
that
thought aside. If she'd
gotten here, there must be some way to return. And come hell or high water,
she'd find it. Even if it took her the rest of her life.
Chapter Six
Iain picked up the bag from the
center of the table and turned it in e
very
direction, scrutiniz
ing
it. The lass must be a
very
fine seamstress indeed, or she
was
very
wealthy, for
though he could see where the bag
was
joined together, he could bare
ly
make out the tiny stitches. And the material
was
like
not
h
ing
he'd ever seen before. It
was
an extraordinary
contrivance indeed.
As he examined it, he discovered
it contained several different compartments. A tug on one of the outermost
flaps opened it with no trouble, although a ripp
ing
sound accompanied it.
Had
he torn it?
He inspected the flap close
ly
and
not
iced a small square patch
of soft, fuzzy fabric. On closer examination, he found a
not
her small square patch of material, this one
made of rough, scratchy cloth. Intrigued, Iain put the two patches together
then pulled them apart again. The same tear
ing
sound came each time he pulled the pieces apart.
Fascinated by the disco
very
, he repeated the
process a few more times before he turned his attention to the center pouch,
certain it held the more interest
ing
items within its confines.
He would check inside the other
pockets once he figured out how the bigger section opened.
The larger part of the sack, held
closed by tiny silver grips proved more difficult to fathom.
They started at one side and
ended halfway on the other side, though he could
n't
decide which
was
the
beginn
ing
and which
the end. Iain grasped both sides and tugged to no avail. They
were
stronger than the
square patches it would seem. He
hadn't
the time or the desire to examine them ful
ly
to discover how they worked to open the pack.
He shrugged matter-of-fact
ly
; it
was
to be his dirk then. He
slipped it from the holder at his waist and with a quick flip of his wrist
turned the bag over to what he presumed
was
the bottom. When he did so, however, several items fell out of the other
pockets. A couple landed on the floor at his feet, while several settled on the
table, catch
ing
his
attention.
He picked up one of the
parchments
that
fell
to the table. Tiny script in a delicate hand read, "me and the gang."
Under this
were
several names, "Hailey, Aleksa, Lucas, Me, Keith and Tristan."
Iain flipped it over to see a
portrait of Kristianna smil
ing
up at the man next to her. He
had
one arm around her and the other around a younger version of Kristianna except
the lass
had
more
blond in her hair than Kristianna did. Iain could see from the way Kristianna
smiled up at the man next to her
that
she cared deep
ly
for
him. Who
was
he? He
wondered,
not
lik
ing
the direction his
thoughts took but unable to stop them.
Was
she mayhap betrothed? Or
was
this man her husband?
An unwelcome feel
ing
twisted in the region
where his heart once lay at
that
thought. He ruthless
ly
shoved it aside. He
had
no wish to examine too close
ly
what felt suspicious
ly
like
jealousy.
With determination, he turned his
attentions back to the parchment. He studied it closer; fascinated by the
strange paper it
was
painted on. Never
had
he seen such detail in a portrait before, nor anyth
ing
like
the material it
was
drawn on either. It bent, but
was
strong he discovered when he tried to tear it.
The cloth
ing
they wore
was
pass
ing
strange. Women
in trews? Well,
that
wasn't
so strange.
Hadn't
he seen his
màthair
and sister do the
like
? He'd never seen any
other woman or lass wear them though. And they
were
an odd color as well.
With great reluctance, he laid
the miniature aside for the moment, curious about the other items. Iain picked
up one of the objects
that
had
fallen to the
floor with a thud. The th
ing
was
heavy and seemed
solid enough. Round in shape, it rattled when he shook it. Several silver
buttons protruded from the piece. He pushed one
that
said FF but
not
h
ing
seemed to happen.
Push
ing
a
not
her
button
that
read open,
the case opened to reveal a thin, round, shiny silver disk inside. Iain shook
the item again and the disk turned a bit. The writ
ing
on the disk read 'Shania Twain'.
He closed the cover and continued
to inspect the outside. A long, black str
ing
dangled from the case and he bent to retrieve it. As he did so, his thumb
pushed one of the buttons. A muted sound came from the end of the black piece
he held in his hand. G
ing
er
ly
, he put the small, round
piece to his ear. "I feel
like
a woman!" blasted from it, caus
ing
him to bellow an oath in surprise and drop the offend
ing
item.
"The lass is a witch!"
he roared.
* * *
Kris sat propped up in the large
bed, a bowl of broth before her. The chunks of meat in the broth
were
delicious, though she
dared
not
ask Elsbeth
what they
were
. She
shuddered at
that
unwelcome thought and kept eat
ing
.
The truth final
ly
sank into her numb mind. Her
jumbled emotions settled a bit so she could begin to use logic to think instead
of her emotions.
Elsbeth
had
appeared this morn
ing
with a basin of hot water to
was
h up in as well as the
broth. Both of those, as well as the clean nightgown Elsbeth
had
found for her to wear,
served to help her consider this entire situation through with a clearer head.
Her thoughts returned to the
immediate problem. Somehow, beyond all reason or common sense, she
was
stuck in the seventeenth
century, in Iain MacGregor's castle. Why, or even how, it happened she could
n't
quite
determine. She
was
here and she
had
no idea how she
was
go
ing
to get home. She could
n't
go to the nearest
airport, hop the first plane she could find
that
was
headed for the
states, go home, and forget all about this.
She took a
not
her bit of broth and chewed consider
ing
all her options . Maybe
she should look at this from a different angle. Perhaps she could view it as an
adventure. She shook her head vehement
ly
.
Uh uh, no way. She
had
to get home. One way or
a
not
her she
had
to get back to where she
belonged. Seventeenth century Scotland
was
wonderful to read about it history books, or even in a romance now and then,
but to live here?
Not
on your life.
Hailey would be frantic by now,
as well as her sister,
not
to mention her brothers. They'd probably be tearing the castle and Scotland
apart by now. Her parents would
n't
even realize she
was
gone until someone told them. Even then, they probab
ly
would
n't
be over
ly
concerned
about it.
She balanced the tray with the
broth on her lap for a moment and rubbed her temples. The frustration she felt,
along with all the thoughts rush
ing
about in her overworked brain, brought on the full-blown headache
that
had
threatened yesterday.
What she would
n't
give for two aspirin and
maybe a good strong drink. Actual
ly
,
a shot of whiskey would go a long way at this point. Kris sighed and, finished
with her stew, placed the tray on the small table beside her and rose from the
bed to pace.
Okay, so she
was
stuck in the seventeenth
century. Let's try again to look at this with some logical thought.
What other art-history student,
or professor for
that
matter, could say they
had
first-hand knowledge of what
really
happened, what life
was
actual
ly
like
, in this time period?
Not
a s
ing
le one. If
not
for the concern about
her fami
ly
's reaction,
she might
not
be so
desperate to return, might actual
ly
find this trip through time fascinat
ing
.
After all, other than her fami
ly
,
what did she
have
to
return too? No man waited for her return, no lov
ing
husband or fiancé would miss her. She did
n't
even
have
a boyfriend
in the future, nor any prospects for one either. She
had
school and work and in between those two,
she did homework. No time for a social life.
She sighed. Somehow she would
just
have
to make the
best of her situation for now until she figured out how to get home. She also
could
not
, under any
circumstances, let Iain know her true identity. Heaven forbid his reaction if
he ever discovered she
was
a Campbell.
A shudder went through her at the
thought. It would
likely
not
be
pretty
. She
had
no desire to end up in
his dungeon or pit or wherever they put prisoners. Perhaps she could feign
amnesia. Would he buy
that
?
It
was
possible. It
might be worth a shot.
The door to her room burst open
with a resound
ing
crash. Kris spun around in surprise, the object of her recent thoughts in the
doorway. She opened her mouth to ask what his problem
was
, but his dark, angry expression made her
close her mouth with a snap.
"Ye are a witch!" His
voice bounced off the walls of the chamber
like
thunder.
Kris tried to take a step
backward, but found she
was
frozen in place. A shiver of panic snaked down her spine. A witch? Speechless,
she shook her head.
"Nay, dinnae think to deny
it. I
have
proof." Iain waved whatever he held in his hand under her nose.
Kris followed it with her eyes,
try
ing
desperate
ly
to see what it
was
, but he pulled it away too
fast for her to get a good look at it and stuck it in his sporran.
Footsteps rumbled in the hall as
angry male voices came toward her room. Several large men appeared behind Iain,
swords drawn, faces scowl
ing
dark
ly
. Wonderful,
Kris thought, the defensive line
has
shown up.
"Where is the witch?" One
of the men bellowed. He stood on
ly
a bit shorter than Iain, but looked just as fierce. "And how in the name
of all
that
is ho
ly
did a witch get into the
keep?"
"'Tis nay what ye
think," Iain glanced from Kristianna to Raibert and back again. He
signaled to the man to stand down. "I shall deal with this. Go back to
your duties, lads."
Almost
reluctant
ly
, then men
quit the room. Their boot steps less harried, they returned to the hall, mumbl
ing
to each other. All but
Raibert, who stood and stared at Kris, a know
ing
look on his face.
"I thought her mayhap mere
ly
a spy." He
resheathed his sword and crossed his arms in front of his chest, a
self-satisfied, tight-lipped scowl on his handsome face. "I knew 't
was
too convenient for her
to show up now, laird, just as we are in the middle of plann
ing
…"
"Leave us." Iain held
up a hand. "'Tis for me to deal with, Raibert."
Raibert started to argue, but
Iain silenced him with a look. He threw one last glower at Kris, shrugged, and
stomped from the room.
Kris thought she caught someth
ing
about see
ing
to the wood for the
fire, but prayed she
was
wrong. Iain closed the door with a quiet click and strode across the room to
stand in front of her.
She stumbled backwards until her
knees met the bed, a silent, fervent prayer on her lips. She turned away from
him,
not
ready to face
his anger, and
not
sure what she could say to convince him she
wasn't
a witch. What proof did he think he
had
?
How
was
she go
ing
to explain to him where
she
really
came from? He'd
never believe it. It would sure
ly
induce him all the more into believ
ing
that
she
was
a witch.