“Wheesht, woman.”
“But I—”
“You’ve no business below stairs at this hour, Lady Alethia.” Malcolm gripped her arm above the elbow and sent her a look sharp enough to cut glass. He turned to Hugh. “Judging by your injury, it would appear the lady has had a change of heart.”
“Wait a minute.” She jerked her arm out of his hold. “I did not come here looking for this dirtbag.”
“As you say.” Hugh bowed toward her. “Mayhap I mistook your intent, my lady. Please forgive me. Until we meet again…” His tone dripped malice, and the promise of retribution hung in the air.
“Hie yourself to the barracks, Hugh. You’ve no reason to be here.”
She waited until the rat bastard left the hall and turned to Malcolm. “You believe him?” She couldn’t keep the quaver from her voice.
“What other plausible reason could you have to be here at this hour?” His angry tone stung. “If you did no’ arrange a tryst with Hugh, then who did you intend to meet?”
Stunned by the accusation, she bit back the burning retort she longed to throw in his face. Anger surged, and her hands fisted. Fine. If that’s what he chose to believe, let him. What difference did it make to her anyway? Tomorrow she’d figure out how to make the stupid pendant work, and she’d find a way to go home where she belonged.
“I will accompany you to your chamber.” Malcolm gripped her by the wrist and tugged her toward the stairs.
Head held high, she managed to keep up with him as he pulled her down the corridor. She refused to utter a word as he swung her door open and pushed her none too gently over the threshold.
“Stay put,” he snapped, slamming the door shut.
She pressed her forehead against the wood and listened to the sound of his retreating footsteps. “You’re such an ass.” She crossed the room on shaky legs, threw herself face down on the bed and pressed her face into the pillow. All the events from the past two days caught up with her. Overwhelmed with helplessness, frustration and fear, she gave in and cried herself to sleep.
CHAPTER FOUR
Something had to give, because Alethia was tired of feeling like a manidoo-wabooz, a rabbit bolting for her hole every time a shadow crossed her path. Besides, she hadn’t had a full bath in almost a week, and the scant buckets of water Beth brought every day weren’t getting the job done.
Since the incident in the hall with Hugh, she’d made every effort to avoid Malcolm on her brief forays to search for the little deaf boy. She’d also tried everything she could think of to make the magic that had landed her here somehow work in reverse. Neither effort had paid off. Alpha-Jerk seemed to pop up wherever she went, hovering and staring at her with his mouth a straight line of displeasure. And…she was still here, firmly planted in whatever time frame this proved to be.
The only bright spot on her otherwise bleak horizon was that she hadn’t caught sight of Hugh since his attempt to molest her. Maybe he’d been sent away. One could hope.
On that hopeful note, she snatched her basket of soap and shampoo from the mantel, worrying about how long her supplies would last. She’d use them sparingly. Pausing to listen for anyone stirring in the corridor, she slipped out of her room. Alethia headed down the back stairway, darting past the kitchen, which was already bustling with activity, and slipped through the door leading out to the herb garden. There she paused to catch her breath, scanning the area to make sure no one saw her leaving the castle.
The eastern horizon barely held the hint of pink, and she kept to the shadows as she went, looking back all the time to assure herself that no one followed. After bathing and breakfast she’d search for Malcolm’s sister and beg for a weapon of some sort. If Hugh or anyone else tried to trap her in a dark corner, she’d be more than able to defend herself.
Setting her rush basket on a flat rock, she searched the shore for the best place to enter. After one more look to make sure she was alone, she stripped down to her undies and waded in. The frigid water raised goose bumps on her skin, but Lord it felt good to wash her hair. Her breath sent a cloud of steam to mingle with the fog hovering above the lake’s surface, and her shivers sent circles rippling outward.
The sun inched its way above the horizon. She intended to be safe inside the castle before too many people were up and about. One more quick rinse, and then she swam around the rocky outcrop toward shore. Her stomach dropped, and dread stole all the breath from her lungs. Hugh stood on the beach, her clothing in his arms and a cruel smile on his bruised and swollen face. Damn. Had he followed her here? She’d been so careful.
All the stress and fear she’d been living under for the past week erupted. “I would rather die of hypothermia than get out of this water for you, you knuckle-dragging, scum-sucking, waste of space!”
“You must come out eventually.” He moved closer to the water’s edge, his wicked smile growing larger. “When you do, you will pay dearly for breaking my nose.”
“I’ll break something else if you don’t leave me alone, you rat-bastard perv!” Her muscles were beginning to cramp from the cold, and she couldn’t control her shivering. Hypothermia was a very real possibility. She searched for an out and prayed someone would hear her shouts and come to investigate.
Malcolm walked back toward the keep from the lists. He’d worked up an appetite and a good sweat and looked forward to breaking his fast before bathing and seeing to the rest of his daily tasks, including seeing to Lady Alethia’s whereabouts.
Their odd guest once again occupied his thoughts. The more she avoided him, the more obsessed with her he became. Whom had she gone down to the great hall to meet? It had rankled and nagged at him, until he could no longer think straight. Directly after breaking his fast, he’d search her out and demand the truth. Everything would return to normal, and he’d be able to get her out of his system once and for all. Not bloody likely.
The image of her as she’d first walked out of the forest with her silken sable hair falling freely about her shoulders flashed before him. Her exotic beauty haunted his dreams and left him restless and wanting. The sooner he discovered exactly who she was and from whence she came, the sooner he could see her safely returned. And then his life would return to normal.
Shouts broke through his thoughts. He recognized Alethia’s voice, and she was in trouble. He ran toward the sound with his heart in his throat. Crashing through the brush with his dirk drawn, he came upon a sight that turned his blood to ice. Hugh held her clothing in his arms, while she hid her nakedness in the loch. Her eyes were wide with fright.
“What do you mean to do here, Hugh?”
“I mean to have a bit of sport with the lass. Leave me to it.” Hugh’s eyes slid to Malcolm for a second before returning to Alethia shivering in the ice-cold water. “You’re welcome to her when I’m through.”
The thought of Hugh’s filthy hands touching her turned Malcolm’s vision red. He shoved him around by the shoulder, his fist connecting with the blackguard’s face before he even knew he meant to strike.
Hugh cried out and staggered back, dropping Alethia’s garments to the ground. “Damnation!” Touching his split lip with the back of his hand, he glared at Malcolm.
Malcolm took a step toward him. “This is your idea of sport, is it? Terrorizing a defenseless woman? You have until Terce to gather your things and be gone. Your life is forfeit if I find you here after that.”
“You’ll pay for this. You’ll both pay.” Hugh’s face twisted with hatred.
“Harken well.” Malcolm shoved him back. “If you ever lay a hand on her,” he said, shoving again, “’twill be the last thing you do.” The last push sent the blackguard sprawling in the dirt.
Hugh scrambled up and fled. Malcolm watched until he was well away before facing Alethia. Only her head showed above the surface, and she shivered uncontrollably. He grabbed her garments from the ground and placed them near the shore, taking several steps away before turning his back to her. “’Tis safe to com
e out. I’ll keep watch.”
He heard her splash out of the water and pull on her garments. Sobs broke from her in great gasps.
“I…I…w-want to g-go h-home,” she cried. “I. Want. To. Go. Home. I w-want m-my g-gran, hot showers, a washer and dryer…m-my hair dryer…and f-freakin’ electrical outlets, dammit. Central heat, b-blue jeans and…and…s-sweatshirts.” Her voice trailed off as she sniffed and hiccupped.
Her words made no sense. Had she lost her wits from all the strain? Certain she’d clothed herself, Malcolm sheathed his dirk and approached. Water dripped from her hair down the front of her gown. Her teeth chattered, and her lips were tinged blue.
Her distress twisted him up inside. “Where is your home, lass?”
“S-so far away I d-don’t know h-how I’ll ever g-get b-back,” she sobbed.
“Nonetheless, where might that be?” Taking his plaid from over his shoulder, he wrapped her in it and rubbed her back and arms vigorously.
“A-across the ocean.”
Could she be any more evasive? Now was not the time to press for answers, not while she was still so upset. “Hugh will no’ trouble you any longer. I swear, you have my—”
“D-don’t say it. Don’t say I have your p-protection, because I’ve f-felt everything but protected ever since I l-landed here.” She swiped at her tears with a corner of his plaid. “You took Hugh’s side the night he t-tried to rape me.”
“Nay. I took no one’s side.” Malcolm’s jaw clenched, and he fought to gain control over his emotions. “If not Hugh, whose company did you seek that night, lass?”
She shrugged his wool off her shoulders and stepped out of his reach. “I was looking for the deaf child who begged for food during the feast.” Her head came up a defiant notch, and her anger lashed at him. “I have experience with the deaf and hard of hearing. I thought maybe I could look after him. H-he’s all alone.”
Her own life had been turned upside down, and yet she thought to help another. Guilt laid him low. “Why did you no’ come to me about the lad?”
“Come to you? You haven’t exactly…You’ve done nothing but castigate, scold, and make your disapproval clear.” She bit her lip and studied the ground. “Why would I come to you for anything?”
Malcolm placed a finger under her chin and raised her face to his. “Your words ring true. ’Tis clear I’ve given you no reason to trust me. Is that no’ the way of it?” God’s blood, but her tiny nod made him feel like an arse. In that moment he realized something else. Her sharp tongue and bravado were naught but bluster to hide how terrified she truly was. Malcolm wanted to snatch her up in his arms and hold her fast. Instead, he raked his fingers through his hair. “I am the worst kind of churl.”
“That’s not entirely true.” She glanced up at him through her thick lashes. “You’ve given me a roof over my head and food to eat, and I’m grateful for both. It’s not your fault I ended up on your land.”
He wasn’t so certain about that. Surely she’d been left in his path for a reason. Malcolm stared out over the loch, pondering how best to rectify the situation. “You must allow me to make amends. Let us begin anew.”
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “OK. Thanks for rescuing me from that creep.”
“Creep?” He shook his head. “Your speech confuses me, lass. Though it sounds English, ’tis not wholly the same at all. What do you mean by oh-kay?”
“Where I come from, the word creep is sometimes used to describe someone whose intentions are predatory.” She wrung some of the water from her hair and took another deep, shuddering breath. “OK just means all right, and your speech sometimes confuses me as well.”
“Oh-kay.” He tried the word, letting its strangeness roll over his tongue. Alethia deserved his compassion, and all he’d done was add to her misery. It fell to him to set things right, but how? Malcolm squared his shoulders, his mind racing to find common ground. “I have two sisters. One is older, and the other younger. Helen, the oldest, is married and lives with her husband two days’ journey from our keep, and you’ve met Elaine. Perhaps if you spent some time with my mother and sister, you might feel more comfortable.”
“Oh yes. That would be nice.” Her expression brightened. “I don’t have any siblings, but I do have about twenty cousins, and most of them are boys.”
She smiled up at him, and Malcolm’s knees went weak. “Come, you are chilled to the bone.” He took her arm and started her back toward the bailey. “Why were you in the loch?”
“I wanted a bath.”
“We have a bathing room in the keep. There are lads whose job it is to keep a constant supply of warm water available.”
“How was I supposed to know?”
“Beth did no’ tell you?”
“No.” She snorted. “I don’t think personal hygiene is at the top of her list of priorities, and it was just by accident that I found the…the…”
“Garderobe?” Malcolm found her modesty enchanting. Another question had nagged at him since the day he’d found her, and now seemed like a good time to satisfy his curiosity. “What did you do the day you put me to sleep?”
“Oh. That. I cut off the blood supply to your brain, and you fainted.” She stopped walking and placed her fingertips on his neck, feeling along under his jaw. “Here, feel the pulse?”
Malcolm took her hands in his. They were close to the keep, and he was conscious of his people’s watchful eyes. “Come, we must seek my father. He’ll have questions.”
She tugged her hands free. “I can’t see your father looking like this. I’m a mess.”
Malcolm took in her wet tangles and sand-covered gown. “He will no’ concern himself with your appearance.”
“Maybe not, but it does concern me.” She frowned.
“Hie yourself to your chamber, then, and make yourself presentable. I’ll send Beth to you anon.”
“I have nothing to wear,” she argued. “I only have two gowns, and they’re both a mess.”
“I’ll have my sister lend you one of hers.”
“She’s a lot taller than I am. Let’s wait until I can clean one of mine.” She glanced up at him. “Like maybe tomorrow or the day after.”
Malcolm placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. “Lady Alethia, do you mean to vex me?”
“No.” She frowned. “It’s a natural talent.”
Alethia flopped back on the bed and covered her eyes with her hands. The laird would have questions, all right, and she needed time to come up with answers. Telling them she’d been sent back through time from the twenty-first century? Not a good idea. It sounded like an invitation to be the guest of honor at a bonfire complete with a stake and accusations of witchcraft.
If she wanted to keep the private room and the special treatment, she had to present herself as nobility. Fortunately, it wouldn’t require outright lying, just a little bit of truth-twisting and era-blending. That she could manage. She got up and worked herself out of her damp gown.
Beth bounded through the door. “I’ve brought ye a clean gown, milady. We must make haste. The laird awaits.” She draped the rose-colored wool over the bed and led Alethia to the chair to work the tangles out of her hair. Reaching for the comb on the mantel, Beth chattered on. “I’m to show ye the bathin’ room, though to my way o’ thinkin’ ’tis unhealthy to submerse a body in warm water.”
“Oh? I’ve always believed the opposite. Is the laird’s family often ill?”
“Nay. The family never takes sick.”
“They all bathe regularly.” If she did nothing else while here, she’d get her unwashed friend into a tub. “Where I come from, we believe that a hot bath and cleanliness keep illness away.”
“Aye? I’ve never heard such a thing.” She resumed her ministrations. “Ye have the shiniest hair, milady.”
“Like I said before, I’d be happy to share my secrets. The scented soap I use is called Caress.” She glanced at Beth to gauge her reaction. “I was
h my hair with a secret blend of herbs that make it shine. It’s called Herbal Essence. Do you have a special man in your life?”
“Nay. Though I wish more than anything for a certain lad in the garrison to take notice.” Beth sighed as she fetched the fresh gown and helped her into it, tugging the sumptuous wool over her damp chemise.
“Have you ever noticed how the flowers with the sweetest scent draw the most bees?” For the first time since meeting her, Beth went silent as she laced up the gown. Alethia hoped she was considering her words. “The offer stands. You’re welcome to borrow my soap.”
“Come, milady. I’m to take ye to the laird’s study.”
Lifting the overlong hem, she followed her down the maze of corridors. Beth ushered her through a heavy oak door, where she found Malcolm and his father waiting. She curtsied.
“Please, sit. My son tells me you’ve had a trying morn.” The laird smiled kindly.
“Very trying, yes.” She took the seat at the table opposite him. Parchment, ledgers, inkwells and quills covered the surface.
“Hugh will trouble you no more. Rest easy.” The earl leaned back in his chair and studied her. “How is it that you found yourself on our land and alone?”
“I don’t know.” Folding her hands in her lap to keep them from shaking, she forged on. “I was attending a fair in my own country. I went into a fortune-teller’s tent because I heard crying, and once I was inside, I couldn’t get away from her.”
She glanced up at Malcolm, who stood next to his father. “She calls herself Madame Giselle, but I don’t think that’s her real name.” She noticed a brief look of shock cross his face. “Being with her is the last thing I remember before your son found me.”
“Did she offer you anything to eat or drink while you were with her?” Malcolm asked.
“Why do you ask?”
Malcolm shrugged a shoulder. “Mayhap she slipped you some kind of sleeping potion.”
Good one. Why hadn’t she thought of that while concocting her story? “Come to think of it, yes,” she lied. “She offered me a goblet of spiced wine, and I did drink all of it.”
True to the Highlander (The Novels of Loch Moigh) Page 5