by Mary Morgan
His body shook as he opened his eyes and moved off the bed. “Pray forgive me, Eve.”
She scooted off the bed, a frown marring her lovely features. Her fingers trembled when she tried to adjust her gown.
“Here, let me help ye.”
Eve smacked him away. “Don’t come near me.”
Wincing from her words, he nodded. “I shall leave ye to your bath.”
Visibly shaken, she turned her back on him. “Good.”
Snapping his fingers at Fergus, he made his way out of Eve’s chamber with the dog following behind him.
Closing the door, Cormac leaned against the wall. Never in all his life had a woman have such a hold over him. Yet, Eve Brannigan ruled his heart and mind, sweeping in like the Highland mists and stealing the breath from his soul with her beauty and charm.
For the first time in Cormac’s life, he cracked opened the door to his heart, and feared what would happen if he claimed Eve as his own—forever. Was love truly what was missing in his life? Or was it merely lust? If only his damn heart was nae involved, he would have found the answers he sought.
Shoving aside his turmoil, he strode silently down the corridor.
Chapter Ten
“The maiden made a wish under the stars on the full moon, but she forgot to sprinkle her words with love.”
Eve stared at the door long after the man had left her room. Her hands continued to tremble as she clutched her gown in frustration. Cormac’s touch had left her body aching in places she hadn’t known existed. Tears burned her eyes, and she quickly wiped them away. Why had he apologized? Had he suddenly found her repulsive?
“He would never want a chubby girl with wild, uncontrollable hair.” She yanked at her dress, hearing the fabric tear. Letting the tears fall down her cheeks, she stepped out of the material and sank into the tub. The warm water was bliss, helping to soothe away the pain of rejection.
Reaching for a cloth and a bar of soap on a small table, she scrubbed her body until it was red. Fury and hurt seethed inside of her as she dunked her head under the water. Bringing her head up, she wiped the water from her eyes. “Could any man want me?” Bringing her fingers to her lips, Eve could still taste the man. His kiss had sent an arrow of desire so powerful, she craved more.
She banished the thought. “He’s not for you, Eve Brannigan. You’ll be leaving soon, so best to ignore him completely.”
The words sounded hollow, and she slapped the cloth against the tub. Grabbing the soap, she did her best to lather the soap and went to work on her hair. Scrubbing her scalp until it tingled, she stood and reached for the one last bucket of clean water. Dumping the contents over her head, Eve almost shrieked. The icy water had not been heated.
“This is barbaric,” she protested, as she squeezed the water from her hair. Reaching for a larger cloth, Eve stepped out of the tub and dried herself by the fire. Turning at the sound of someone knocking, she did her best to cover herself. Had Cormac returned?
“Who is it?”
“’Tis Katie,” replied the small voice.
Eve’s shoulders slumped. “Come in.”
Katie entered, her arms full of gowns and smocks. “Sir Cormac stated ye had lost all your clothing on your way to Creag.” She dumped everything on the bed, proceeding to shake out a few of the gowns. “I have been going through some of the older gowns and made them to your size. Ye are smaller, so with Nola’s help, I took them in.” She held out a dark blue gown with silver embroidery on the edges. “This one will suit ye well.”
Eve did her best to wrap the cloth around her body and moved toward the bed. “It’s too fine to be making bread in. I need something more durable.”
“Och, nae, my lady. Sadly, this is all we have. Ye can wear a smock over the gown, if ye so wish. I have brought some as well.”
She fingered the gown, and then sorted through the others. There were gowns in gold, brown, green, rose, and lavender. “What are those?” Eve pointed to the flimsy looking dresses.
“Those are to sleep in, my lady.”
Eve rubbed her forehead. “They’re beautiful, but a pair of pajamas would have been okay with me.” Tiny drops of water dotted the material, and she let out a moan. “My hair. If I don’t untangle this mass, it will be a nightmare later to remove the knots.”
Smiling, Katie reached for a small leather satchel. “I brought ye some combs.” Handing her the blue gown, she said, “Let me help ye dress and tend to your hair.” She fingered the stray curls. “’Tis a rare beauty and all here are envious.”
“You can’t be serious, Katie. There are times I want to chop it all off.” No longer caring about modesty, Eve dropped the towel and let the girl help her dress.
“Nae,” gasped Katie. “Ye should treasure your beauty. ’Tis a gift from the Gods and Goddesses. The druids say Mother Danu had a golden halo of hair around her, and when she walked, the sun touched the strands, lighting the way for all to see.”
Puzzled, Eve asked, “Does everyone believe in the old ways here—beliefs? Not that I don’t mind, but it seems strange.”
Katie picked up one of the larger combs and motioned Eve to the chair. “Aye, if I ken your meaning. Are ye of the new religion?”
Eve shrugged. “I believe God is everywhere—be it angels, faeries, old and new. Are they not all the same?”
“We have witnessed the cruelty from both—priests and druids. Although, here at Creag we honor the old ways. The Laird’s mother believed in the one God. Sir Cormac’s father built a chapel surrounded by his mother’s much loved flowers.”
Eve closed her eyes as Katie continued to comb out her hair. Her thoughts immediately went back toward the man. “Is Cormac an only child?”
Katie sighed. “Aye. The mistress gave birth to a girl, but sadly, she passed within days. They never had any more children.”
“Hmm…how long have you been here?”
Chuckling softly, she answered, “I was born here.”
Eve longed to ask more about the Murray family—how old was Cormac? What did he do when he wasn’t pretending to be the great laird of Creag? Questions, which seemed utterly useless. Simply do what you came here for and then leave with an experience to laugh over when you return home.
“There. ’Tis a shame ye tie your tresses up on your head.” Katie placed the comb on the table and went to retrieve the wet cloths.
Standing, Eve shook out her gown. “If only I had a mirror to see how I look.”
“Ye do have one, Lady Eve.”
“Fabulous! A modern piece of equipment,” she said dryly. “And please call me Eve. We can all put on a good show for when the guests arrive.”
The girl frowned in confusion. “I dinnae ken your meaning.”
Eve groaned. “Never mind.”
“The former mistress had one in each chamber. ’Tis in your trunk.” Katie moved toward a large engraved wooden trunk and pulled out a small oval mirror.
“Good grief,” muttered Eve. “Anything larger?”
Katie shrugged. “Perchance there might be one in the laird’s chamber.”
“You’ll never find me going near his room, so no worries.” Taking the mirror, Eve inspected herself. Shockingly, the face that gazed back didn’t scare her. Her cheeks held a rosy glow, and curls that had escaped from her bun, framed her face. Touching her slightly swollen lips, Cormac’s kisses came blazing back to torment her. She closed her eyes in an attempt to forget his taste, smell, and touch. Yet, when she opened them, Eve burned for more.
And she hated herself for being weak. He doesn’t want you!
“Are ye unwell?” Katie touched her shoulder, jolting Eve out of her preoccupation with Cormac Murray.
Giving the girl a weak smile, Eve grabbed a smock. “I’m fine. I’m off to bake six loaves of bread. Wish me luck. I’ve wasted enough time on myself.”
Quickly leaving the chamber, Eve made her way to the kitchens while humming a tune. When she entered, she waved in greeting to Glenna and
Moira. Tying her smock on, she started to gather her ingredients. Ignoring the rest of the world, Eve immersed herself into work. These would be simple loaves. Tomorrow, she would make the specialty ones with an almond and honey paste. The women had told her the almonds were a gift to Cormac from a traveler.
Kneading the dough, she gave it a smack. Banish the man’s name. Glenna looked her way. “My final tap of good luck before I put it into a bowl.”
Glenna pursed her lips, but then went back to her own work.
The hours rolled by, and Eve wandered over to a table to await the breads. She managed to get them all in the stone oven without having to barter for room with other items baking. Sniffing the contents of a jug, she smiled. Pouring the wine into a mug, she ambled over to the corridor outside the kitchens. Leaning against the stone wall, she sipped the wine. Swirling the liquid on her tongue, she savored the taste. “Plums,” she uttered softly.
“Aye. A blend made by the laird,” replied Gordon, walking up alongside her.
She nodded in greeting. “I didn’t know he had a vineyard here.” Eve took another sip and then added, “He should consider bottling this and selling it here, or in the markets.”
The man rubbed at his jaw. “I dinnae ken your meaning, but he will be pleased to hear ye have enjoyed the wine.”
Eve snorted and looked away. “Your laird could care less what I enjoy.”
“Ye are wrong.”
“Don’t think so,” she argued and swallowed the last of the wine. “I’m the last person he wants to be around.”
Gordon let out a curse.
Moving away from the wall, she glanced at Gordon. “Let’s agree to disagree.” Eve started to walk back inside the kitchens when Gordon grabbed her elbow.
“Hear me, Lady Eve. I am Cormac’s oldest friend and guard. We grew up together. Never in all my time have I witnessed the man tongue-tied and his gut twisted over a lass. He maintains control with sweet words, drawing them forth. But nae this time. Ye have enchanted him and this he fears. His mood has become foul of late, and all have noticed. Tread carefully.” Dropping his hand, he bowed. “Pray forgive me for speaking so.”
Her mouth gaping open in shock, Eve stared as Gordon strolled away. “I’m confused,” she sputtered.
“Sweet Mother Danu!” shouted Glenna.
Dashing back inside the kitchens, Eve slammed the cup onto the table. “What happened to my breads?”
She tapped the breads in disgust. “Did ye not take a portion from the pot?” chastised Glenna.
Eve smacked her forehead. “Blast! The leaven. I forgot!” Picking up a loaf, she turned it over. “What a waste.”
“Nae,” protested Moira as she peeled onions. “They can be part of the morning meal.”
“Or used as a trencher for the stew,” added Glenna.
Eve slumped down on the bench. “I guess I’ll be baking all night.” Dusting off her hands, she made to stand when Moira grasped her arm.
“Help Glenna and the others serve the evening meal. Ye can start anew in the morn.”
“But I had planned on making the honeyed almond breads,” argued Eve.
Moira smiled and squeezed her arm. “There is plenty of time. Now go.”
Eve nodded slowly. “All right. But I’m up at dawn and will be in here all day.”
“Ye can take the filled trenchers to the Great Hall,” stated Glenna, as she moved from the hearth to the table, arranging trenchers filled with beef, salmon, and onions.
Managing to carry two trenchers, Eve maneuvered past Nola who was entering the kitchens. Flashing the girl a quick smile, she strolled toward the Great Hall. Her nerves skittered, knowing he was in there. Upon entering, she kept her focus on not stumbling, but her eyes deceived her and she looked across the room searching for Cormac. However, he was nowhere in the vast room. Some of the guards were sitting at the long side tables, chatting quietly, but for the most part, the hall was empty.
Sighing, she silently berated herself for wanting to see him. Gordon’s words left her unsettled, and perhaps it was best she didn’t run into the man.
“Do ye plan on standing all evening holding the food?” The burr of his voice rumbled low and seductive.
Eve shivered, afraid to turn around, her fingers digging into the trenchers. “No,” she uttered softly.
Cormac moved to face her. “Then let me help ye.” Reaching for one, his fingers brushed against her hand. Memories of what he had done earlier made her face burn, along with other places he had touched.
“Thank you,” she mumbled, quickly stepping away and placing the other trencher on the table. Swiping at a loose curl, Eve wanted to flee the hall. However, he moved to block her path. She swallowed, overwhelmed by the magnitude of his presence.
“Would ye care to join me at my table?”
Eve met his gaze and lifted her chin. “I’m needed in the kitchens.”
He boldly took her hand and placed it in the crook of his arm. Leaning close to her ear, he whispered. “I have already spoken with Glenna and Moira.”
Moving her along, she tried to pull free from his steely grasp. “I’m a mess,” she hissed.
Cormac’s laughter slithered down her spine—soft and warm. “I disagree.” He turned to face her before the table. Taking his thumb, he swiped away the flour she knew was on her cheek. His hands slipped around her waist and undid the knot from her smock. When the garment came free, Eve let out the breath she was holding. The man was far too close. He invaded the air around her, smelling of wine, leather, and his own scent. The silver torc he wore around his neck glinted in the glow of the candles.
Without thought, Eve reached up and touched the warm metal. “Beautiful animals.”
His lips parted, and his eyes darkened with desire. “For the hounds of Cuchulainn.”
Her gaze never wavered. “You must tell me the story sometime. It’s one I’ve forgotten.”
He snatched her fingers and brought them to his lips. Placing a kiss along the knuckles, his smile contained a sensuous flame. “With pleasure.” Leading her to a chair, he motioned for her to take her place.
The sound of children’s laughter entering the hall silenced any further conversation. A few of the other guards had strolled inside, along with other women and children. Soon the hall was buzzing with many people. Gordon made his way to them and took a seat across from her.
Grizel and Nola dashed to her side, pleading to sit beside her. Cormac waved his approval, and the two shouted gleefully. Before long, Tomas appeared and took a place next to Gordon.
“Is there any apple buns?” asked Grizel, nudging Nola.
“Only a few and they are for the laird.”
“Ye may have the last, Grizel,” commented Cormac, handing her the basket.
“Och, nae, Sir.”
“I have had my fill today,” he responded.
Eve touched the girl’s arm. “There will be plenty come Yule. I’ll make more.”
“Thank ye, Sir Cormac.” Grizel took out a bun as if the item were a precious jewel.
Reaching for a jug of wine, he poured some into Eve’s cup. “I fear the requests are many with all the fancy breads ye are making. Ye may find yourself chained to the ovens.”
Shrugging, she picked up the cup. “I’ll leave the recipes for Moira before I leave.”
His hand froze over the rim of his cup and silence descended at the table.
“Where would ye go?” asked Nola in a shocked voice.
Eve took a sip of her wine. “I’m returning home after Hogmanay.”
“The Fae are sending ye back to your time?”
“The Fae…as in faery? Umm…no. I’ll travel by plane. And the only time I know is the current one of 2016. You’re all so wrapped up in this pretend world you’ve forgotten your own date. I have to go back to my real home—my own life.” Yet, for a moment, Eve thought staying wouldn’t be so bad at all, especially with the handsome Highlander sitting next to her.
“2016,” g
asped Nola.
“Yes,” countered Eve.
“Nae.” The girl kept shaking her head.
Slowly, Eve placed her cup on the table and looked at the gathered group. Cormac glared at Nola, his eyes warning her not to say another word. A sense of dread washed through Eve. Even the children believed they were living in some medieval fantasy. It wasn’t real—none of this.
The room was too small, too crowded. She had to get out of here. Now!
“I’m sorry, but I’ve lost my appetite. Pounding headache.” She stood so fast, the chair wobbled.
“Eve.” Cormac’s tone held a warning, but she was scared.
Her steps quickened, leading her straight to the entrance. Shoving the castle doors open, the blast of cold air slapped at her face, but she ignored the icy sting. An urge to get free from this place overtook her and soon, Eve was running. They were all mad, or something was horribly wrong with her. She refused to believe the latter.
Steel bars greeted her. The gates had been closed. Her gazed traveled beyond the bars that kept her a prisoner. It was bleak, foreboding. She had to believe there was a modern civilization out there—somewhere.
She yanked on the gate. “Let me out,” she shouted.
“Ye cannae leave.”
“Why?” she yelled, glancing over her shoulder at Cormac. “Tell me why I can’t leave and go home?”
“Truth?”
“Yes, damnit!”
“Because your home has yet to be discovered. Ye have crossed the veil of ages into the year 1207.”
Chapter Eleven
“Let the light of the Solstice warm your heart and bring truth to your mind.”
“You’re mad,” she hissed. “Let me out.”
Cormac raked a hand through his hair. This was not how he foresaw telling the lass. Her eyes were wide with fear, but anger sparked within those green depths as well. “I cannae let ye out of these gates. ’Tis dark and nae place for a lass to be wandering. Furthermore,” he held his hand up, “snow is falling.”