by Sakwa, Kim
“Pray tell, which people would those be?” he asked wryly.
“The ones who can’t see what’s in front of them.” Damn him. “Gavin, what you’re telling me isn’t possible.”
“And as I’ve already said, I fear ’tis exactly as I’ve told you.”
“So what I just witnessed outside, and the antiquity of this castle—”
“Seagrave Castle is the finest in the Highlands, Lady Gwendolyn,” Gavin corrected, cutting her off. “And as to what you saw outside, I can only surmise ’tis different to you because you’re not of our time. ’Twas written so in the prophecy.”
“So it’s normal that this castle has no electricity or indoor plumbing?”
“I know not of electricity, but I can assure you our plumbing surpasses the standard.”
“Yeah, so I’ve heard. Trust me, it’s not even close.”
“Furthermore, there’s nothing antiquated about this castle, you’ll not find another finer.”
“In the courtyard”—Gwen put her head in her hands, replaying the scene in her mind—“it’s a village out there. People don’t live like that anymore,” she whispered in disbelief.
“Explain to me what is so different,” he prodded gently.
“The clothing for one. Women don’t dress like that anymore, even in Scotland. Oh my God.” She pulled at her dress. “Dress like this. And people’s courtyards are quiet and peaceful. They’re private. This courtyard is alive with activity—mothers and children, men with weapons. There’re stables and what looks to be a chapel. And I saw beyond the wall, there were cottages and men fighting with swords. This does not exist. I spent three weeks discovering everything I could about Scotland, and I swear everything I’ve just seen doesn’t.”
“Everything you witnessed is very real. And the men, women, and children of this clan live a life known to few in the Highlands. Their laird provides well and protects with honor. In return, his people work hard and live quite happily.” He paused, as if waiting for a reaction. When she didn’t reply, he continued, “Does anything else bother you?”
“You bother me, Gavin.” Well, she had to take it out on someone.
“Lady Gwendolyn, I’ve been nothing but forthright and respectful to you,” he countered.
“Forthright maybe—but respectful—yeah…” Gwen rolled her eyes.
He sneered, taking the bait. “Very well, my lady. Mayhap you should make some more outrageous requests to leave. And please, do use your acidic tongue.”
“Did you say I have an acidic tongue?” Gwen demanded in false outrage.
“Aye, you’ve a foul mouth. ’Tis the truth and you know it,” Gavin hissed. “Don’t have a tizzy as you so put it, my lady.”
“I’ll have all the damn tizzies I want, Gavin—back at the inn.”
“This is the only ‘inn’ you’ll ever know, Lady Gwendolyn. I suggest you get used to it…for you shall never leave.”
Lady Gwendolyn remained quiet as Gavin helped her back to her chamber. ’Twas a first, and he found that he missed the quickness of her comments—even those caustic in nature.
He now understood Greylen’s perplexity with her dialect. His commander, however, failed to mention the details of her foul mouth. She was actually quite entertaining when riled, and he wondered if Greylen felt the same.
He led his mistress to bed, ordering that she rest away the brandy’s effects. Then he told her he’d be outside the doors. She’d clutched his hand before he could leave. “I’m not dreaming, Gavin,” she said softly, as if saying the words aloud would somehow help.
“Nay, lady,” he agreed. “Mayhap if I told you—”
“Mayhap you could tell me anything,” she begged, cutting him off. “Please,” she added with a smile, squeezing his hand.
Taken aback, Gavin returned her smile. He’d not seen this side of her. With her guard down, she was quite different. He wanted to ease her, perhaps help her to see the rightness of her being here. “I swore my allegiance to Greylen fifteen years ago,” he began. “From the first, there’ve been but a handful of days I’ve not been with him. The most disturbing of which, the days a betrothal was set before him. I never understood his reluctance to marry but witnessing the events that occurred each time…” Gavin shook his head, pained by the memories. “Greylen wasn’t hasty in his refusal, but he’d demand that his intended be brought before him.” Gavin looked directly to his mistress, imploring his words. “In all those years, I’ll never forget the look on his face as he held each woman’s shoulders and stared into her eyes. He carried an emptiness for days after such occurrences.”
“But if the prophecy foretold my coming, why would he look to someone else?”
Gavin gave a crooked smile. “We’re all open-minded, Lady Gwendolyn, but we are speaking of a prophecy,” he reminded her. “We know not who wrote it, or for that matter, when.”
“Did he ever believe in it?”
“You misunderstand. He always believed. On occasion”—Gavin qualified with a shrug—“he thought mayhap to outsmart the prophecy and find you sooner.”
His mistress snorted. “Talk about arrogant.”
“Aye.” Gavin smiled. “He is that.”
“Is there more?”
“Greylen told me of the writings five years ago,” he explained. “I believed as well, lady,” Gavin said quickly. “And he told me.” He hesitated before revealing yet another confidence. “He told me he’d know you at once. He said he’d had a dream of you for years. The same dream each night—”
“I had the same dream.”
Gavin was surprised, not only at her words but also by the tears she quietly wiped away. “Upon the eve of his thirty-second year, we told the rest of our men: Duncan, Ian, Connell, Kevin, and Hugh. We’ve planned for your arrival every day since.”
“Does anyone else know?”
“Aye, Lady Madelyn, Isabelle, and Anna. Rest now,” he ordered. “You’ve had a taxing morn.”
“Will you stay? I don’t want to be alone. Please.”
“Should I call for Lady Madelyn? Perhaps Isabelle?” he asked, alarmed by her tone.
His mistress sat up at once. “Given the choice, who do you wish I’d have with me?”
The way the question was spoken shocked him. Did she bait him? “I’ve no idea your meaning, mistress,” he returned, masking his expression.
“Humph.” Her facial expression matched her verbal disbelief.
“Get some rest, now,” he ordered, unnerved by her perception—and the brow she aggravatingly raised. Then he heard her response as he walked to the fireplace.
“‘Oh what a tangled web we weave…when we first practice to deceive.’”
Gavin reached for his hair, a habit that became worse over the ensuing days.
Gwen couldn’t sleep. She couldn’t stop thinking of the things that happened this morning. Not only what she’d seen, but also her conversation with Gavin. How could it possibly be true? It was crazy.
It was, wasn’t it?
She knew she wasn’t dreaming or trapped in unconsciousness and lying in a hospital bed. Nope, she had to give that one up. She was one of the most rational people she knew. Okay, so it was a conceited thought. But, damn it, objective rationalization had gotten her through life. At least that’s what she told herself.
If this was real, if somehow she was in a different time… She started laughing. She couldn’t believe she was rationalizing that. But she had to. Didn’t she?
She hadn’t seen any phones earlier. No outlets or anything else for that matter that could be considered modern. And the scene in the courtyard added credence to everything else. Then there was the way Greylen and his family held themselves, their speech, their clothing, their formality.
Where was Greylen, damn it? She missed him. No, she needed him. Two days in the man’s presence an
d she felt a connection so deep it was astounding.
And he left her.
She must have dozed off for a while, and when she awoke, she called to Gavin. He answered from the area by the fire. “Please call me Gwen. I can’t stand this ‘lady’ stuff.”
“You’ll get used to it,” Gavin said, approaching the bed. “Come, I’ll show you the holding.”
She smiled. What the hell? “May I have a few minutes?”
“Take all the time you need, Lady Gwendolyn,” he said purposely, grinning at her dramatic sigh.
Once inside the bathroom, Gwen took her time. She went to the mirror and placed her hands on the chest. First things first. “Well, what do we do now, oh smart one?” she asked, staring at her reflection. “No quick answer, huh? Yeah, I didn’t think so, brainless, and your hair’s a mess.”
She opened the drawers of the chest to look for a brush. Her breath caught. Greylen’s shaving tools lay inside. She picked up the round bar of soap and inhaled its sandalwood scent. A short-handled lathering brush with thick, soft bristles and a long blade with a wooden handle lay next to it. There was even a stone for when it became dull.
Curious, she searched the rest of the drawers. No Gillette razors, no aerosol cans, no toothbrush, no—great, not one thing modernly familiar. She went back to the drawer that had a hairbrush and comb. Then she looked through another, hoping to find something to secure her hair, like an alligator clip or a ponytail holder. Instead, she settled for a thin strip of leather she took from a pile in one of the drawers. Then she grabbed the plaid from the chair in the alcove.
When she stepped back into the chamber, Gavin’s look stopped her. “Have I done something wrong?” she asked.
“Nay,” he said quickly. “I only wish…” He paused and smiled. “I only wish Greylen were here to see you. He’d be pleased you wear his plaid, and you look fetching in Isabelle’s dress.”
“A romantic as well as a torturer,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “How refreshing.”
Gavin grinned, seeming to like her again. He ushered her out of the chamber and down the stairs. They entered the great hall where Lady Madelyn and Isabelle were sitting before the fire.
“Gwendolyn, are you feeling better?” Isabelle asked. Lady Madelyn remained quiet, though looked to her with concern.
“I am, thank you,” she answered. “Gavin’s going to show me the holding today. It seems I’ll be staying awhile.”
“May I come, Gavin?”
“Not today, Isabelle.”
Gavin’s tone was so tender that Gwen gave him a look of disgust. “Excuse me, how come you never speak to me like that? I only get ordered and bossed around.” They all laughed at her remark, but Gwen’s observation was dead-on. Gavin was soft for Isabelle.
“Come, lady, we ride.” He offered his hand.
“Ride what?” Gwen asked, pulling her hand back.
“Horses, lady. What else?”
“I don’t ride horses,” Gwen said.
“No matter. You’ll ride with me.”
“I’ve never been on a horse in my life. And I’m not getting on any of the ones I saw earlier. They’re enormous.”
“You’ve ridden on a horse before, you just can’t remember.”
“How would you know?”
“I was there, my lady. Greylen carried you upon one from the shore, and his beast is larger than those in the courtyard.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me,” Gwen muttered to herself.
Anna entered the room carrying a leather bag. “’Tis filled,” she said, handing it to Gavin. “Make sure she eats well.” Anna ended her instructions, frowning as if not pleased with Gwen’s current weight.
Gavin retrieved the bag and took her arm. As he opened the door, Gwen closed her eyes. Then she took a deep breath.
“’Twill be all right,” Gavin assured. He continued to hold her arm as they walked through the courtyard. She shook the entire time.
“Everyone’s staring at me,” Gwen whispered, moving closer.
“They’re aware you’re here, lady, and you wrap yourself in the MacGreggor plaid.” He waited a moment. “Besides, by now ’tis common knowledge their laird saved a helpless lass from the water.”
“I’m an incredible swimmer, not helpless,” Gwen said rather indignantly.
“I could tell,” he replied dryly.
Gwen shot Gavin a nasty look before pulling away. She walked to the stables to the right of the keep. She stopped when she reached the front, then turned to look at the castle now to her left. She gasped.
It was magnificent.
It stretched wide across the beautiful land and stood probably four stories high. Stone steps with a marble or limestone balustrade led to the front doors. And decorative emerald green shutters adorned all of the windows, each with flower boxes beneath. To the left of the castle was the garden Anna had spoken of earlier. And to the right, directly across from the stables, was a simple one-story structure. It had a beautiful wooden door and large stained glass windows.
She assumed it was the chapel and decided to ask Gavin about it later. For now, she wasn’t speaking to him. Her inspection was interrupted when the current bane of her existence stopped before her. He held the reins of his horse, and the bag Anna had given him was secured to the saddle.
“How did Anna know we were leaving?” she asked without thinking. Damn, she forgot she wasn’t talking to him.
“We’re not leaving,” he corrected. “I’m merely showing you where you are.”
“Whatever,” she replied, brushing off his imperial tone. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“Anna came to check on you while you rested,” he explained. “I told her I’d be showing you the holding.” He grabbed her waist, and a second later, she was sitting atop the saddle with Gavin behind her.
They left the gates of the courtyard and traveled down a wide path. There were cottages on the left and fields where men were engaging in various states of swordplay on the right. They continued past a lake, riding quietly for over an hour.
Gavin helped her from the saddle, then held her while she gained her stand. She gave him a warm, genuine smile. “It’s more beautiful than anything I’ve ever seen,” she said. He nodded his agreement and handed her a small bag. Pointing toward the trees, he told her she could see to her needs.
“I’m impressed, you’ve thought of everything.”
“Not everything,” he remarked. “I’d not expected Greylen to be called away last night.”
His candor humbled her. “Was he surprised too?” she asked.
“Surprised? Furious was more the case.”
“Do you think he’ll return soon?”
“Mayhap in less than a week. It depends whether he rides or sails.”
“Is he in danger?”
“He was called to court to be present for a trial, lady. He’s in no danger.”
“I guess I’ll have to take your word for it. Excuse me now, I’m going to the trees,” she said with as much dignity as she could muster.
When she returned, Gavin had laid a blanket on the ground. The items Anna packed were spread out on top. “I’m starved,” she confessed. “You annoyed me so much at breakfast, I forgot to eat.” She sat across from him and they ate from an assortment of cheese, fruit, and dark bread. The cup she drank from was made of baked clay, glazed, and etched with an intricate pattern. She took a large swallow, choking as it went down. Gavin laughed and pounded her back.
“What is this? Beer?”
“’Tis ale. I’d not thought to warn you.”
Gavin offered to fetch water, and she was just about to say yes when she thought better of it. She chugged the rest of her ale instead, and his too.
As they rode back, Gavin pointed to various areas explaining the purpose of each. There were pastu
res for sheep, cattle, and horses. All separate and each had men watching over them.
When they reached the stables again, Gwen followed him inside. They were glorious. They really did value their beasts. There were stalls on both sides and clean hay piled high in the back. The floors were immaculate, and the wooden gates weren’t rough but sanded to a smooth finish. After Gavin finished tending to his horse, he began leading her back to the castle.
“Is that a chapel?” Gwen asked, pointing to the building across from them.
“Aye, would you like to go inside?”
“Do you think anyone’s there?”
“Nay, Father Michael came back early this morn. I’m sure he’s asleep.”
At her nod, Gavin led her to the door and walked in first. A moment later, he came back. “’Tis vacant. I’ll wait for you outside,” he offered before closing the door behind her.
Gwen stood in the doorway, looking at the most charming chapel she’d ever seen. To her left was a table with candles. And in front of her was a floral runner that led to the pulpit. The altar stood one step off the rest of the floor and was covered with large pots filled with plants and flowers. Beautiful polished pews were on either side of the room, and she counted each of the ten rows. Its smallness only added to its appeal.
Gwen had always hated churches, but not because she didn’t believe. It was the families that made her uncomfortable. They seemed so together, whether in pain or joy, and she envied them. Secretly, she hoped one day she’d find happiness. To join a church with a family of her own and share that togetherness she always yearned for.
She still wasn’t sure what happened. If the things that Greylen and his family had told her were true. But if there was even the smallest chance that they somehow were, she wouldn’t take it for granted. She was in too deep already.
She picked up a candle and lit the wick from one that already burned. Then she ran her hands along the tops of the benches as she made her way toward the altar. She sat on her feet and entwined her fingers. And she just sat there not sure where to begin. But she looked up and saw the large wooden beams that ran from one end to the other. Every last detail was perfect here.