A Laird to Hold

by Angeline Fortin

  Scarlett

  Dunskirk Castle

  Achenmeade, Scotland

  October 2013

  “Oi, there! You can’t be in there. The exhibit is clos…ed. M-Miss Thomas? Is that you?”

  The authoritative voice that had begun the lecture faded into confusion once Scarlett emerged from the huddle. Then shock, as the young woman gaped at them, sidling back in fear when Laird’s free hand fell to the hilt of his sword with Rhys mirroring the movement.

  Scarlett waved them off, but couldn’t as easily dismiss the small group of tourists amassed behind the museum employee. Already they were fanning out, phones at the ready. So, the fracas began, and sooner than she’d anticipated.

  “Who are these people and why are they in my home?” Laird whispered under his breath, his stance protective.

  “Museum, remember?” she murmured gesturing around them. Donell had dropped them into the same spot they’d left from, except now the great room was bare of its tapestries and furniture and lined with empty display cases. “She works here.”

  “M-Miss Thomas, what are you doing here?” The woman’s gaze roamed over them all, filled with surprise that rapidly faded to curiosity. The faces not already hidden behind their phones, snapping pictures—or God help them, video—wore the same expression. “I didn’t see you come in. Or leave the other day, for that matter.”

  “Other day? How long ago…?” She bit back the question realizing how insane she would sound. Asking ‘what’s the date?’ had gotten her a few incredulous stares from Rhys when she’d first arrived in the past.

  Just as they were all getting curious and confused looks at the moment. Oh, Laird and Rhys in their kilts might mingle satisfactorily in this historical setting as if they were costumed players for the tours, but she in her medieval gown and Emmy and Connor in their Victorian garb made little sense.

  It made Scarlett self-conscious in a way she hadn’t been for years. She’d forgotten what it was like to have eyes constantly assessing her. Gathering her plaid in the front, she hoped to hide her bulging belly as much as possible.

  Then another contraction hit and she didn’t care so much what anyone else thought anymore. Only years of playing a role both in movies and in front of strangers allowed Scarlett to hide the flash of pain. Though her skills were rusty. Laird winced as she squeezed his hand.

  “Are ye well?”

  “We should hurry this along,” she whispered back.

  He nodded and strode toward the main doors, thinking he’d need no directions in what was once his own home. Nor did he feel any of the same compulsion she did to make excuses to the attendant.

  “Wait, Miss Thomas!”

  Scarlett searched her memory for the name of the friendly clerk who’d worked the castle all those endless days she’d held vigil there, waiting for Donell to make an appearance and send her back to Laird.

  Mary? Marion? No, something more unique. “Marius? Right?”

  The clerk nodded with pleasure. “Aye, Miss Thomas.”

  Scarlett beckoned her closer and the woman unclipped one of the velvet ropes cordoning off the area and stepped in, securing the clip once more.

  “You’ve been so helpful these past few weeks.” She tried to keep the inquiry out of the statement, unsure whether the timeframe was accurate. “I wonder if you can help me one more time?”

  “Of course.”

  Scarlett’s mind raced, searching for a reasonable explanation to encompass them all. “My friends and I were just working on a play nearby—dress rehearsal, you know—and they wanted to stop by to see where my movies had been filmed. Since we were so close. A bit of sightseeing, so to speak. I didn’t wish to create a scene what with this being a busy…”

  She left the statement dangling and thankfully Marius filled in the answer. “Sunday.”

  “Right. So, I had someone let us in the side door.” A twinge of remorse hit her for whoever was about to lose their job over the fib. “I’m so sorry for the disruption. Would it be possible to just sneak out again without making a fuss?”

  The woman hesitated, torn between duty and the desire to please Scarlett. “I guess you could stay a little longer and look around some more, if you like.”

  “No, no. They’re all good. Aren’t you?”

  Everyone nodded obediently.

  “I could take you out the side then, if it would help?”

  “I wouldn’t want to take you away from your tour group. Did you get a promotion?”

  Marius’s face glowed as she nodded.

  “How lovely for you. You deserve it.”

  “I guess I can at least swipe open the door for you.”

  Scarlett breathed a sigh of relief. “That would be wonderful. Thank you, Marius. You’re a life saver.”

  Marius beamed under her praise but her expression soon became inquisitive once more. She cocked her head to the side. “I didn’t know you had an accent, Miss Thomas.”

  “Do I?” Scarlett stammered in surprise. “Oh, um, method acting. For the new play.”

  Marius seemed doubtful but nodded and turned toward a thick door that led to the passage in the curtain wall. “I suppose that’s a wig then too? For your new part?”

  Her auburn hair, though braided on the sides and wrapped behind her head, was long and loose in the back. Self-consciously, she smoothed the wild curls. “Um, yes.”

  “Rather convincing one. It’s just as it was before you cut it short.”

  Emmy gasped. “You cut off your hair?”

  Luckily their guide didn’t hear her, otherwise a fresh round of questions might be coming their way. As it was, they were about to be blessed with an easier and less conspicuous escape than Scarlett would have thought possible. Thankfully, the tour group stayed beyond the velvet ropes, leaving them free to make their getaway.

  Fingers crossed, no one would post on social media about their sudden appearance. Though, such restraint was highly unlikely.

  “Mummy?” Hermione piped up sleepily. She lifted her head from Laird’s shoulder and peered around. “Where are we going?”

  With her key card an inch away from the scanner of the final portal to their escape, Marius stopped in her tracks and turned. She gaped at the toddler, lips parted in surprise while Scarlett mentally scrambled for a valid explanation.

  Emmy, bless her heart, took Hermione with a display of maternal doting. Hermione, having no fear of strangers, went to her readily enough. The gesture might’ve been enough to belay the truth, but the toddler pushed back her hood just as Marius opened the door and the sun to the west lit Hermione’s hair. Bright auburn curls sparkled in the light against Emmy’s blonde locks, making no mistake of whose daughter she was.

  Marius gaped like a landed fish.

  “Enough, we need to go,” Laird bit out.

  He gently pushed Marius to the side and held the door open for them all to pass. Scarlett, the last to go, paused near the astonished woman. “You’ve been so kind to me in the past, Marius. Please, don’t say anything. Please?”

  The attendant nodded erratically as if the motion were out of her control. Likely any promises she made would be as unreliable, but Scarlett had to take the chance. She grabbed Marius’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “Thank you.”

  “Uh-huh.” Her head was still bobbing when Scarlett slipped through the door and closed it tight.

  “Och, where has Donell gone to?” Connor was saying when she rejoined her personal tour group.

  Sure enough, the old man had vanished.

  “Figures,” Emmy grumbled. “Smarmy little bastard. Wait ‘til I get my hands on him.”

  “Ye and I both,” Laird vowed. “But we hae a far more pressing issue presently, aye? How do we get all the way to Edinburgh from here?”

  “If it’s only been a matter of days as Marius said, my rental car might still be here. If they didn’t have it towed, that is.”

  “Which one is it?” Emmy asked.

  There wasn’t a sea of c
ars in the parking lot but enough to give Scarlett pause. The men around her were all wide-eyed, taking in sights they’d heard about but hadn’t yet seen for themselves.

  “Did you forget where you parked?”

  “It’s been a while, you know. Give me a minute.”

  She tried to trace back the memories. Life had been so bleak that month so long ago when she’d haunted Dunskirk every day hoping for the miracle that would send her back to Laird. Hadn’t cared much what she drove, didn’t give the car a second thought after she’d been returned to him.

  It was a little white thing. That’s about all she remembered. “Oh, what does it matter?” she complained abruptly. “It was too tiny to fit us all anyway and I threw away the key years ago.”

  “The agency might have another.”

  Another contraction caught her breath. They were getting closer together. Less than ten minutes for sure. Time for urgency not exploration.

  “I don’t think we’ll have time to wait.”

  “How about this conveyance?” Rhys asked, finding his voice. “It appears large enough for us all.”

  The transport he pointed to was one of the tour shuttles that often brought groups down to Dunskirk from Glasgow and Edinburgh. Big enough and the group of tourists boarding were largely an older crowd who, with any luck, may not have been huge fans of young adult fantasy novels or movies.

  “Let’s go hitch a ride.”

  Scarlett

  Edinburgh, Scotland

  October 2013

  There were at least a half dozen reporters outside the emergency room entrance of the Edinburgh Royal Infirmary and at least three times that many spectators lingering about, curious as to what was afoot.

  Scarlett knew just where to place the blame.

  She might’ve been recognized by fifty percent of the people on the shuttle, approached for autographs by half that number but only one knew where she’d requested they be dropped.

  The flash of cameras began even before the bus came to a full stop. Laird helped her to her feet—and she did need help now. After roughly two hours on the slow moving bus, her contractions were less than five minutes apart. The pain intensified to the point she’d been unable to disguise her labor for the past half hour. Every person on the bus knew what was happening by this point, and some were nice enough to assist during her slow shuffle down the narrow aisle behind Rhys, Emmy, and Connor carrying Hermione.

  “Just breathe through, sweetie,” one kindly English lady of about fifty murmured, holding Scarlett’s arm when the pain gripped her, radiating around her stomach and across her back. The woman rubbed Scarlett’s hand between hers. “That’s it, luv, deep breaths.”

  “Thank you,” Scarlett whispered, sweat beading on her upper lip.

  “Got five of my own. You’ll do fine.”

  A disbelieving laugh forced its way out. “Yeah, right.”

  “Well, if you can make it into the hospital,” the lady amended. “I’d recommend making a run for it.”

  They might have to.

  Behind her in the aisle and as big as he was, Laird couldn’t do much to help Scarlett to the front, but once they got there, he paused. Glaring down at the bus driver with all the fury a man—one who’d just traveled at the speed of seventy kilometers per hour for the first time and was feeling a bit queasy for it—could muster. Still, his scowl was enough to send the driver cringing against the side of the bus, his hands up in supplication when Laird gripped the hilt of his sword.

  “If I had the time to spare, little mon, ye’d be holding yer heart in yer hands at this moment.” Promise filled Laird’s rasping words. His eyes were shards of ice. “Pray we ne’er cross paths again or ye will plead for my mercy.”

  “I-I-I’m sorry. Really!”

  Scarlett huffed out a dry laugh at the apology. They were always sorry. In the moment. She almost wished Laird could run him through for betraying their destination after swearing not to.

  Rhys was waiting at the door to help her down the steps and the moment she emerged, the amassed crowd went wild. The screams threw the others for a bigger loop than the fast-paced drive north, passing cars, and modern city had thus far.

  For a split second, all any of them—including Emmy—could do was gawk back at the gawkers. But not even Scarlett was used to the strobe-like flashes any longer. The fanatical crowd pressed forward, and they all took a collective step backward. The lady on the bus had been on point. They’d have to run for it.

  “What madness is this?” Laird bit out harshly. The scenic countryside views of the past couple of hours had in no way prepared him, or any of them for this. He clutched Scarlett’s hand. For her benefit or his, she wasn’t sure.

  “Hell, ye said?” Rhys shouted over the din to her. “This is a bluidy nightmare in comparison.”

  Then the shouted interrogation commenced. Why she was there? Who were the people with her? What were they wearing? The reaction to her appearance was worse than Scarlett had imagined. Emmy had been accurate in her prediction of a circus.

  Laird drew Scarlett close to his left side, keeping his right hand on the hilt of his sword. She could hear his harsh breathing, his pounding heart rejecting the madness they were faced with. Not just the zealous mob, but also the alien world he’d been plunged into. Unwitting drivers trying to reach the emergency department doors honked madly, sirens rang out.

  Hermione whimpered as the crowd surged in, microphones thrust forward to catch any sound bite. Connor handed her to Emmy and helped Rhys push back the mob, creating a path for Scarlett and Laird. As much as she was thankful they were all here to help, the scene saddened her.

  What a sorry introduction to the future world for all of them. Seeing the worst of humanity, the ugliness of society. A pitiful first impression for them, and an appalling re-introduction for her.

  An oppressive sense of doom left her weak at the knees. Not only that she’d made a dreadful mistake in returning here, but that the worst was yet to come.

  Her name was screamed over and over in attempts to attract her attention for a better picture, but Scarlett kept her head down. Then chaos ensued. The reporters pushed and shoved one another, eager for a clear camera angle. Jockeying for a position closer to her as she moved through them at a snail’s pace. They’d never make it inside at this rate.

  “What bluidy madness,” Rhys yelled, then elbowed a cameraman out of the way when he surged from the crowd. A camera fell to the ground with a loud crack. “Back ye bluidy beasts! Back, I say!”

  The cameraman crouched over his broken equipment and cursed, rude and eloquently. Rhys’s face turned as red as his hair. Likely as a noble courtier, he’d never heard such expletives, but his shock didn’t stop him from responding with colorful flair.

  A hand shot out, reaching for Scarlett, snagging her hair. “Is it real? Oi, is it real?”

  Scarlett cringed, curling against Laird. Another contraction clawed at her belly and she bowed over, one hand beneath the bulge as if she might hold the baby in just a little longer. Her knees gave way in truth and she stumbled, a cry of pain escaping her before she could stifle it.

  The zealous crowd gushed forward, sensing weakness. More questions, shouted one over the other.

  Laird held tight to her but pain made it impossible for her legs to cooperate. he swept her into his arms and plowed forward. “Enough of these bowfing louts. Rhys! To arms!”

  With a bloodcurdling battle cry, Rhys pulled his dagger in one hand and unsheathed his sword with the other.

  “Away wi’ ye, ye manky scut,” Rhys swung at the crowd. Under threat of the blade, they bowed backward long enough for their group to push through to the doors.

  To the cool silence of the lobby.

  It didn’t last long there either.

  * * *

  “Everything’s looking good, Scarlett,” Emmy’s intonation was calm, soothing in the peace of the hospital room an hour later. The needle on the monitor signaled the rise of another contr
action. “Breathe through. Excellent.”

  Some of the chaos beyond the maternity ward had attempted to follow them in, but the staff and security in the hospital had done a superior job banishing both the paparazzi and the spectators. Whether their discretion was because of policy, Scarlett’s celebrity status, or the trio of volatile Scotsmen who had them all shaking in their boots, Scarlett wasn’t certain.

  Whatever the case may be, she was feeling surprisingly serene for a woman in the final stages of labor. The systemic painkillers added to her IV drip probably had some influence on her mood. Scarlett didn’t even mind knowing the handful of reporters lingering outside had grown in numbers, waiting for news or affirmation of her surprise pregnancy.

  “No need to be afraid anymore.” The phrase had become Emmy’s mantra since they’d arrived, though Scarlett wasn’t sure if it was she Emmy was trying to reassure at this point or herself.

  Scarlett bit her lip against the now-muffled pain but chuckled beneath it. “I’m not afraid really. I did all this once before in a time when all they provided to cut the pain was a knife beneath the mattress. That was terrifying. Just the sight of all this modern technology has all the soothing effect of an epidural.”

  “That’s the drugs, honey.” Emmy laughed and Scarlett joined her as the contraction passed. “They make me feel better, too. There isn’t a baby I’ve delivered I don’t wish for something to ease the pain. This will be a cakewalk for both of us, right?”

  “I have faith in you, Emmy.”

  “And I have faith in the staff here,” Emmy responded. “I’ve read about Dr. Patel in some medical journals. She’s an excellent neonatologist.”

  Emmy stood and moved around the room, checking monitors and the IV bag. Scarlett thought it peculiar how Emmy seemed so at home yet out of place, her red woolen carriage gown and bustled skirts a sharp contrast to the modern medical equipment. At least Scarlett had been given a hospital gown to change into.

  Hermione shadowed Emmy, clutching the picture book she’d been given to occupy her and asking questions one after another without breaking stride. Emmy answered them softly, before directing the toddler back to the chair next to the bed.