My Heart Stood Still

by Lynn Kurland

  "Laird Ambrose tells me you know my brother?"

  Iolanthe blinked when she realized that Megan was talking to her. She managed what she hoped looked like a smile. "Aye, I've met him."

  Fulbert snorted heartily.

  Megan shot him a look, then returned her gaze to Iolanthe. "How is his work going on the castle?"

  "He's finished one of the towers," Iolanthe said, finding herself growing increasingly uncomfortable. "He's in New York now."

  "It figures, doesn't it?" Megan asked with another smile. "I come to make sure he's surviving, and he's off on another quest."

  "Does he do that often?" Iolanthe asked.

  "Only when he's compelled," Megan said with a wry smile. "Generally, he climbs mountains. He works now and then when he has to. Quests only happen when his chivalry gets the better of him."

  "I see," Iolanthe said, not sure that she did or that she really wanted to. Was she a quest, then? Would he tire of her and return to his mountains and his labors?

  To how many women did he say the words "I love you"?

  She considered that for far too long. When she forced herself to concentrate on what was going on around her, she found that Megan was making her exit to bed. Iolanthe was on her feet immediately, grateful for the excuse to bolt.

  "Daughter, you have a chamber here," Ambrose said.

  "Things to do up at the keep," Iolanthe said. She smiled at Megan, then fled through the door before anyone could stop her. She couldn't stay any longer. If she had to see Thomas's smile on his sister's face one more time, she would scream.

  She ensconced herself in her tower chamber, stared out the window into the darkness, and wondered what Thomas was doing. Did he think of her? Did he miss her company? She closed her eyes and let the tears trickle out unimpeded.

  She realized she had fallen asleep only because the soft knocking on her door finally woke her. The sun was streaming into her chamber, and its brightness made her blink several times in discomfort. The knocking continued. She sat up straighter in her chair and dragged a hand through her hair.

  "Aye?" she asked hoarsely.

  The door opened. Thomas's sister poked her head in just a bit. She smiled.

  "Hi. I met some of your kinsmen downstairs, and they said this was your room. Can I come in?"

  Iolanthe wished suddenly that she was as enamored of fine clothing as was Roderick. She felt positively rumpled in the same gown she always wore, with her hair in disarray, and her eyes still heavy with sleep. But there was naught to be done about it now. She sat up straighter still and tried to look as if such disorder was her custom.

  "Aye," she said in her most regal tone. "Please come in."

  Megan did, shutting the door behind her. She looked around her and smiled in pleasure. "Why, this is beautiful. What a peaceful place. You must love it here."

  "I do," Iolanthe said, feeling unaccountably shy. " 'Tis the most glorious chamber I've ever seen."

  "Thomas has excellent taste," Megan said, wandering about the chamber and touching things here and there. She opened the armoire door and peered at the CDs. She looked over her shoulder at Iolanthe. "Would you like me to put something in? Country? Opera? I can see Thomas's musical choices running rampant in here."

  Iolanthe hardly knew what to say. There was a part of her that wanted to question Megan mercilessly, to see Thomas through another woman's eyes, to understand the parts of him he showed to his family. The other part of her was terrified to reveal that she had feelings for him. What would Megan think? Would she think her brother had lost his mind?

  "Iolanthe?"

  Iolanthe blinked. To hear her name coming so easily from someone who was nearly a stranger was powerfully unsettling.

  But it was perhaps the thing that made her realize that she was not so different from any other woman.

  "Um," Iolanthe said, trying to think clearly through the swirl of emotions. "I like that Rach ... um ..."

  "Rachmaninoff?" Megan asked, pulling out the CD. "The second piano concerto." She looked at Iolanthe. "Thomas's favorite."

  "He's the one who bought it."

  The music soon filled the chamber, but Iolanthe found herself less soothed than she usually was by it. The first time she had listened to it, the complicated notes cascading over one another had almost frightened her. Now, she found the passion of it glorious.

  Even today, she became caught up in it, despite the fact that Thomas McKinnon's sister was still pacing about her chamber like a restless spirit. Megan finally turned the music down, then sat down in the chair facing Iolanthe. She smiled.

  "Are you ready to talk?" she asked.

  If Iolanthe had had any breath to lose, she would have lost it. Instead, she could only wheeze and stammer out a few incomprehensible words.

  Megan waited patiently. Iolanthe seriously considered simply vanishing and leaving the woman to her own devices. But that would have made her seem an unforgivable coward, so she waved her hand toward the stereo, as if she couldn't bear to talk over the music, which unfortunately finished all too soon for her taste.

  Iolanthe looked at the woman facing her and realized they were likely of an age. Perhaps Megan was a pair of years older than she, but the difference was not great. How would it have been to have had a woman to talk to during her lifetime? One of her age, who could have understood her trials?

  How would it be to have such a friend now?

  "You don't have to tell me anything, if you don't want to," Megan said kindly, "but I think sometimes it helps to have someone to talk to. A woman friend. Men, great as they are, sometimes just don't get it."

  "Get it?"

  "Truly understand a woman's heart," Megan clarified. "Not that they don't try, but they're men, after all. Now, I didn't used to be much for girl talk. I have sisters, of course, but I didn't talk to them when I was growing up. Too busy fighting, I guess."

  "Aye, I can understand that," Iolanthe agreed.

  "You have sisters?"

  "One. A half-sister."

  "Brothers?"

  "One elder, who died when I was ten. Six half-brothers, who followed after me."

  "Well, I only had Thomas, but he made enough trouble for several more of himself," Megan said. "Did you get along with your sister?"

  "She sent me to my death," Iolanthe said. She had always suspected that Grudach had had a hand in the whole scheme, but at first she'd never thought her half-sister had orchestrated the thing. Duncan had told her as much a goodly time after the fact, but only when she'd forced him to. She should have seen it herself. Angus didn't have the wits to imagine up the idea of ridding himself of her by selling her to the English-man. Only Grudach could have been devious enough to see to those details.

  "Well," Megan said, sounding as if she wished she hadn't brought it up. "Well," she said again, miserably.

  Iolanthe shook her head. " 'Tis in the past. I shouldn't have said anything about it." She smiled weakly. "It doesn't pain me anymore. Not since T—" She closed her mouth abruptly, realizing what she was about to say.

  But she saw the look in Megan's eye just the same. There would be no deceiving this one.

  "Thomas?" Megan asked. "All right, Iolanthe, you have your listening ear. And I'm incredibly discreet."

  " 'Tis nothing, truly—"

  "Nothing?" Megan snorted. "I have one gift and one gift alone, and that is smelling out a romance. Now, tell me all the details, and don't leave anything out."

  Iolanthe looked at her and for a moment was struck by the similarity between Megan McKinnon and her great-grandmother, Megan MacLeod. Though her great-grandmother had been ancient by the time Iolanthe had truly understood her, Megan MacLeod had still had a gleam in her eye when she talked about love. Wasn't she the reason Iolanthe had never gone to the shore?

  Share it with your man, her great-grandmother had advised.

  "Tell me how you first met him," Megan asked. "Was he charming, or did he make an ass of himself?"

  There was no
point in avoiding this conversation. Besides, she might learn something useful about the man she loved— such as his being utterly without redeeming qualities.

  "Charming?" Iolanthe laughed a little uneasily. "He was senseless and snoring. The garrison had caught him unawares, I think, and he'd dashed his head against a rock."

  Megan's eyes twinkled. "When I knew he was coming over here, I wondered what he'd be able to see. My husband couldn't see Ambrose or the others for quite some time. Even now, he still walks through ancestors without noticing them until they complain. So, what happened next? Did Thomas wake up, see you, then pledge undying devotion?"

  "Nay, he came back up to the keep and insulted me."

  "True to form."

  "But then he apologized."

  "Well," Megan said modestly, "we did our best to raise him right. Now, when did you fall in love?"

  Iolanthe found she had lost all powers of speech. She cast about her for something to say, but all she could do was struggle for words and fail. How, by the saints, was she supposed to answer that? And to the man's sister no less!

  "As I was saying before," Megan said conversationally, "having a woman friend is a wonderful thing. Whether it's your sister or someone you met during your life, it's a comfort." She looked at Iolanthe with a smile. "I know we don't know each other yet, but I'd like to be your friend. It seems to me that you need someone to talk to who isn't packing a sword or a hammer."

  Iolanthe wanted desperately to believe she was serious. To have someone to pour her heart out to? Someone who might understand her fears of loving a man she could not hold? Of giving her heart where it might be cast aside in a year?

  It would be a comfort indeed.

  Iolanthe looked at Thomas's sister and found that she was merely waiting patiently, as if she had all the time in the world and nothing better to do with it than wait for Iolanthe to come to a decision.

  She took a deep breath.

  "I loved him," she began, "almost from the moment I laid eyes on him."

  "Did you?" Megan asked gently.

  "'Tis worse than that," Iolanthe admitted. "You see, I knew him."

  Megan blinked. "You did? How? He's never been here before."

  "It wasn't as if I'd seen him before. But in my youth, when I was trapped on my father's land with no hope of escape, I dreamed of a man who would come to rescue me. I lived each day with a hope that this would be the day he would come. That my life would begin in earnest when he freed me from that wolf's den I called home." She looked at Megan. "I know it sounds impossible, but it was of Thomas I dreamed."

  Megan's eyes widened, but she looked only interested, not disbelieving. "So you saw him, recognized him, and then what?"

  Iolanthe took a deep breath and recounted the events from there. She left out no detail, however slight. And all through the telling of the tale, Megan listened with a rapt expression. Iolanthe finished by telling her of the morning with the painter and how badly it had ended by her fleeing and Thomas leaving for New York.

  "The painter is still at the inn," Megan said. "He's almost finished with your portrait. I didn't realize he was in the conservatory off the back of the house, though I suppose that's only logical because of the light there. I think if he hadn't been so close to being done, he would have thrown something at me for interrupting. As it was, he was just sitting there looking at you, falling in love."

  "With me?" Iolanthe asked with a half laugh.

  "You should see the painting."

  "Then he has embellished."

  "He hasn't. Not a stroke." Megan looked at her calculatingly. "What were you looking at when you were sitting for him—or should I ask whom?"

  "What do you think?"

  Megan laughed. "Well, it shows. Thomas will be ecstatic when he sees it."

  "If he returns." Iolanthe looked out the window and sighed. "I couldn't blame him if he chooses to stay in his city. There isn't anything for him here."

  "What about you? Aren't you here?"

  "And what have I to offer him? Children? Warmth in his bed at night? Growing old together?" Iolanthe was on her feet pacing before the idea to do so entered her mind. "What kind of life is this? Trapped in this castle for the rest of his days?"

  "You can still give him love," Megan protested. "You could travel with him. There is a world full of things you could share if you thought about it creatively. You could spend half a lifetime reading together, and that would be enough."

  Iolanthe stopped in the middle of the chamber and bowed her head. "I am ignorant and unlearned," she said quietly. "Mark my words, sister. He will grow weary of me and leave."

  "It sounds to me as if you've given up already."

  "And just what else am I to do?"

  "Fight for him!" Megan sat up and looked at her earnestly. "If you want him, if you want a life together, then fight for it. I'll tell you something about not giving up. Before I came to England, my life stank. I got fired from every job I'd ever had. My boyfriends were all creeps and dumped me regularly. Thomas had asked me to come over to look at your castle, and I knew that was just a pity job to keep me busy. I almost didn't come. I was ready to give up."

  "And then?"

  "And then I decided I would try one more time. I came over, met Gideon, and fell in love. And none of that would have happened if I hadn't given life one more chance to be good. And I also let Thomas do something for me I didn't have the means to do for myself. If I hadn't told him yes, where would I be?"

  Iolanthe cast herself down into her chair.

  "So am I to hope that Thomas will solve all the ills in my life?" she asked wearily.

  "You could give him the chance."

  "To what end?"

  Megan smiled gravely. "So that you're both happy."

  "But will we be?"

  "Only you can answer that. But," she added, "I don't think you should decide that for Thomas."

  "He deserves more."

  "Let him be the judge."

  "Could you love a ghost?"

  Megan looked at her in silence for a moment or two. "I can't answer that. But I am not my brother either." She smiled. "I can't tell you what he wants; only he can. But I can tell you that what he tells you is the truth. He doesn't lie."

  "So he said."

  "Then believe him. And do your part. What Thomas can't fix, you can."

  Iolanthe chewed on that for a time. Then she looked at Megan. "I suppose it would serve me to learn a little about the present day."

  Megan smiled dryly. "It might. I imagine that locked door downstairs is hiding Thomas's business gear. He's got a computer, hasn't he?"

  "Aye."

  "Then use it. Use it to learn what you think you don't know. You'll have something to talk to him about when he gets home."

  "I hardly know where to start."

  "You start by getting out of this beautiful hiding place Thomas has built you. Let's walk down to the village and shop. I know there's not much there, but we'll make do." She bounced up out of her chair. "It'll be fun."

  Iolanthe rose more slowly. "But what will the villagers think?"

  "They'll think you're gorgeous unless you walk through a door and scare the hell out of them. Just be casual."

  Iolanthe looked down at her dress. "But my clothes—"

  "Change."

  There was that word again. She wondered if she would ever hear it without it fair knocking her to her knees with its many layers of meaning. Change her clothes. Change her hair.

  Change her life.

  Megan took off her coat. "Look at how I'm dressed. Jeans. Sweater. Sneakers on your feet. We'll look like twins, but you'll be the one they'll be staring at." She smiled encouragingly. "Go ahead, Iolanthe. Give it a try."

  Well, she couldn't deny that she'd had practice in creating clothing from a picture. How much harder could it be to create them from someone standing in front of her? She looked carefully at Megan's clothes, front and back, then imagined them up on herself.

&
nbsp; Megan blinked, then grinned. "Wow, I wish I could do that. See, that wasn't so hard, was it?"

  Iolanthe looked down at herself, surprised at how strange it was to see herself in something besides her usual garb. Stranger still to see herself in blue trews. She felt almost indecent in clothing that showed the shape of her legs so clearly.

  "I don't know ..." Iolanthe said hesitantly.

  "It's what everyone wears," Megan assured her. "You won't stand out."

  "The garrison might have something to say about that," Iolanthe muttered. She looked at Megan and smiled weakly. "I suppose I'm ready."

  "Then let's go. Today, the village. Tomorrow, Edinburgh. That's a really great place to shop."

  "Well—"

  Megan walked to the door. "Don't think about it, Iolanthe. We're worrying about today and today alone. Tomorrow will take care of itself."

  Megan was already out the door before her last words were spoken, leaving Iolanthe no choice but to follow her. Iolanthe looked down at herself and wondered if she was making a horrible mistake.

  Megan poked her head back in the door. "Coming?" she asked.

  She looked so encouraging that Iolanthe found it impossible to beg off, which she would have done with any other person. So she put one foot in front of the other and followed Megan down the stairs to the dirt courtyard. She ignored the slack-mouthed stares of her garrison and Duncan's eyebrows, which were raised so far they disappeared under his hair.

  "See?" Megan said with a wink as they walked through the gates. "Hardly a ripple in the water."

  Even the MacDougal was speechless as they passed. Iolanthe supposed that perhaps new clothing now and then was a boon if that was the result.

  She followed Megan from the castle, feeling as commandeered as she had the first time Thomas had pried her from her prison. Was this the way of things with all his family? Were they all so cunning? Or was she so weak she couldn't stand up to any of them?

  "Isn't this fun?" Megan asked brightly as they walked down the path to the road. "You need to get out more, Iolanthe. It's good for you."