"Am I dreaming?"
"Nay, lass, ye are quite awake."
"I was afraid of that." Sudden tears blinded her eyes and choked her voice. She covered her face with trembling hands and gave vent to the agony in her heart. She wept aloud, rocking back and forth as she yielded to the compulsive sobs that shook her.
Iain watched her, bewildered as to what to do. She looked so delicate and helpless. He was at a loss as to what to do with a woman who had obviously received a shock. He had no idea how to respond or comfort her. He stood silently for a moment before he gathered her in his arms and held her snugly to him. To his surprise, she wound her arms around his neck, buried her face against his shoulder, and continued to bawl like a bairn.
Her entire body engulfed in tides of weariness and despair, she shook with the force of her continued sobs. Where she dredged up more tears, she didn't know, but they kept coming. She was empty and drained and should be well cried out by now.
Finally, after what seemed half a lifetime to Iain, she hiccupped and drew a deep shuddering breath. He brushed a gentle kiss to her forehead, seeking only to comfort her. Though for the life of him, he didn't understand the compulsion to do so.
Kris quivered at the feel of his lips on her forehead when he brushed a gentle kiss there. She looked up and his lips slowly descended to meet hers. It was a kiss for her tired soul to melt into. Her mind told her to resist, but her body refused to obey the command.
"Lass," Iain broke the kiss unexpectedly, leaving her senses whirling. She shook her head to clear the befuddled thoughts. "There is nothing I would like more at this moment than to continue with that kiss, but ye are too weary and upset right now. I will nay take advantage of ye in your current state. 'Twould be unfair and unchivalrous for me to do the like."
Kris felt her cheeks flame. What was wrong with her? She'd kissed the man like he was her last link to sanity. She was emotionally distraught, she knew that, but she'd practically thrown herself at him. She felt Iain shake his head.
"Nay. Dinnae be embarrassed by that wee kiss, lass. 'Tis normal for such a thing when emotions are high and overwhelming to us. We tend to want to find comfort where we can and sometimes turning to another to seek that comfort is expected, e'en sought after."
Kris lowered her head and nodded, understanding what he said but not liking it one bit. It might be normal, but it was still unacceptable behavior as far as she was concerned.
"I just need some time to accept all of this."
Iain nodded as if he understood exactly what 'all of this' meant, when in reality, he had no idea. He turned with her still in his arms and strode to the bed. He heard her soft gasp, but paid it no heed.
"I think it would do ye well to get some more rest, lass."
He glanced down once then looked quickly away. She looked entirely too enticing in his arms. The more he thought about it, the better off he'd be if he got some answers from her and got her back to where she belonged as soon as possible. Or, how did she put it? ASAP, aye, that was it. He deposited her tenderly on the bed and covered her with a warm blanket.
"Rest, lass." Unable to resist, he brushed a stray lock of hair off her face. "We shall speak later." He pulled the covers up to her chin and turned away, his eyes scanning the room.
He knew that bag Raibert had spoken of was somewhere in this room. The question was where had Elsie hidden it? It might help some if he had an idea what he looked for. He shrugged.
When he was certain Kristianna was asleep, he would come back and search for it. He would just look for something that did not belong.
* * *
With a quick glance in Kristianna's direction, Iain crossed to the wardrobe she had been so insistent on moving earlier. It still stuck out from the wall several inches. What she'd been looking for behind it, he had no idea, but she'd been that determined about it.
Perhaps Elsie had put the bag inside there. He opened the closet doors and began to rummage about quietly on its floor. Finding nothing, he opened the drawer and searched around for something besides clothing in the dim, pre-dawn light. He found nothing out of the ordinary there, either.
He straightened and looked around the room, his eyes coming to rest on the chest beneath the window. As he crossed the room to check inside it, he spotted something poking out from beneath the bed out of the corner of his eye. Changing direction mid-stride, he knelt beside the bed.
Kristianna stirred. He halted and checked to be sure she slept still before he reached his hand beneath the bed. With a wide grin, he pulled the bag forth and held it up in triumph. With a last glance at Kristianna, he tiptoed to the door so as not to disturb her.
Once in the hall, he quickened his pace and returned to his own chambers where he could more thoroughly inspect this odd bag.
Iain set the strange looking contraption in the center of the oak table and took a step back, looking at it thoughtfully. It was like no other sack or purse he'd ever seen before.
With a frown, he picked it up to inspect it more closely. He gave it a quick shake, but nothing happened. How did the confounded thing open? St. Michaels toes, how was he supposed to find out anything if he couldn't even open the infernal thing? He knew it contained many items, for it was heavy and rattled when he shook it.
He set it back on the table and glared at it fiercely, as if by his will alone it would open for him. Somehow, he would figure out how it opened, and if he did not, there was always his dirk.
* * *
Kris woke with a start, not sure where she was for a moment. She put her hand to her head as the events of the previous day came back to her in a rush. Praying once again she'd dreamed the entire thing, she sat up and looked around the room. In the dim light that shone from the cracks in the shutters she could make out nothing except the large, four-poster bed she slept in.
She rose with hands outstretched, not wanting to bump into anything. Making her way cautiously to the window, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath before she flung open the shutters darkening the room.
The sun was just making itself known on the horizon. Kris' breath caught in her throat. Never had she seen a more beautiful sunrise. The sky lit with a vivid blue, pink, orange and purple. She stood at the window for several long moments and just enjoyed the spectacular view.
Although if she were honest with herself, she'd admit to being afraid to look down.
She could hear people below her milling about, but refused to look at them to see what they wore.
She should turn around and see what the room looked like first. Would she be in the room she'd gone to sleep in before she'd run into that Iain MacGregor look-a-like? Or would she still be in the room that self-same Iain MacGregor had tucked her into bed in last night?
With a sigh she realized she couldn't put off the inevitable forever. Sooner or later she'd have to look and face whatever reality fate chose to thrust upon her poor hapless self this morning. She whirled fast; too escape giving herself time to change her mind.
She swore, something she rarely did unless she was on the whole peeved and frustrated and really angry. Her grandmother's voice chided her silently for such a lack of control.
Kris shrugged it aside. Even her grandmother could forgive her for her choice of words in this particular instance. The room looked the same as the one she'd gone to sleep in last night. This meant she was either still dreaming, please God, or this was really happening.
She cursed again, choosing a few of her brother Lucas' favorites. Not that it changed anything, but it did make her feel better for a moment.
Now what was she supposed to do? She slid to the floor and hung her head wishing with all her heart she didn't have to face this reality. Somehow, she'd have to find a way home, if there was a way.
She didn't even know how she'd gotten here in the first place, so how could she return to her time?
She shoved that thought aside. If she'd gotten here, there must be some way to return. And come hell or high water, she'd fin
d it. Even if it took her the rest of her life.
Chapter Six
Iain picked up the bag from the center of the table and turned it in every direction, scrutinizing it. The lass must be a very fine seamstress indeed, or she was very wealthy, for though he could see where the bag was joined together, he could barely make out the tiny stitches. And the material was like nothing he'd ever seen before. It was an extraordinary contrivance indeed.
As he examined it, he discovered it contained several different compartments. A tug on one of the outermost flaps opened it with no trouble, although a ripping sound accompanied it.
Had he torn it?
He inspected the flap closely and noticed a small square patch of soft, fuzzy fabric. On closer examination, he found another small square patch of material, this one made of rough, scratchy cloth. Intrigued, Iain put the two patches together then pulled them apart again. The same tearing sound came each time he pulled the pieces apart.
Fascinated by the discovery, he repeated the process a few more times before he turned his attention to the center pouch, certain it held the more interesting items within its confines.
He would check inside the other pockets once he figured out how the bigger section opened.
The larger part of the sack, held closed by tiny silver grips proved more difficult to fathom.
They started at one side and ended halfway on the other side, though he couldn't decide which was the beginning and which the end. Iain grasped both sides and tugged to no avail. They were stronger than the square patches it would seem. He hadn't the time or the desire to examine them fully to discover how they worked to open the pack.
He shrugged matter-of-factly; it was to be his dirk then. He slipped it from the holder at his waist and with a quick flip of his wrist turned the bag over to what he presumed was the bottom. When he did so, however, several items fell out of the other pockets. A couple landed on the floor at his feet, while several settled on the table, catching his attention.
He picked up one of the parchments that fell to the table. Tiny script in a delicate hand read, "me and the gang." Under this were several names, "Hailey, Aleksa, Lucas, Me, Keith and Tristan."
Iain flipped it over to see a portrait of Kristianna smiling up at the man next to her. He had one arm around her and the other around a younger version of Kristianna except the lass had more blond in her hair than Kristianna did. Iain could see from the way Kristianna smiled up at the man next to her that she cared deeply for him. Who was he? He wondered, not liking the direction his thoughts took but unable to stop them. Was she mayhap betrothed? Or was this man her husband?
An unwelcome feeling twisted in the region where his heart once lay at that thought. He ruthlessly shoved it aside. He had no wish to examine too closely what felt suspiciously like jealousy.
With determination, he turned his attentions back to the parchment. He studied it closer; fascinated by the strange paper it was painted on. Never had he seen such detail in a portrait before, nor anything like the material it was drawn on either. It bent, but was strong he discovered when he tried to tear it.
The clothing they wore was passing strange. Women in trews? Well, that wasn't so strange. Hadn't he seen his màthair and sister do the like? He'd never seen any other woman or lass wear them though. And they were an odd color as well.
With great reluctance, he laid the miniature aside for the moment, curious about the other items. Iain picked up one of the objects that had fallen to the floor with a thud. The thing was heavy and seemed solid enough. Round in shape, it rattled when he shook it. Several silver buttons protruded from the piece. He pushed one that said FF but nothing seemed to happen.
Pushing another button that read open, the case opened to reveal a thin, round, shiny silver disk inside. Iain shook the item again and the disk turned a bit. The writing on the disk read 'Shania Twain'.
He closed the cover and continued to inspect the outside. A long, black string dangled from the case and he bent to retrieve it. As he did so, his thumb pushed one of the buttons. A muted sound came from the end of the black piece he held in his hand. Gingerly, he put the small, round piece to his ear. "I feel like a woman!" blasted from it, causing him to bellow an oath in surprise and drop the offending item.
"The lass is a witch!" he roared.
* * *
Kris sat propped up in the large bed, a bowl of broth before her. The chunks of meat in the broth were delicious, though she dared not ask Elsbeth what they were. She shuddered at that unwelcome thought and kept eating.
The truth finally sank into her numb mind. Her jumbled emotions settled a bit so she could begin to use logic to think instead of her emotions.
Elsbeth had appeared this morning with a basin of hot water to wash up in as well as the broth. Both of those, as well as the clean nightgown Elsbeth had found for her to wear, served to help her consider this entire situation through with a clearer head.
Her thoughts returned to the immediate problem. Somehow, beyond all reason or common sense, she was stuck in the seventeenth century, in Iain MacGregor's castle. Why, or even how, it happened she couldn't quite determine. She was here and she had no idea how she was going to get home. She couldn't go to the nearest airport, hop the first plane she could find that was headed for the states, go home, and forget all about this.
She took another bit of broth and chewed considering all her options . Maybe she should look at this from a different angle. Perhaps she could view it as an adventure. She shook her head vehemently.
Uh uh, no way. She had to get home. One way or another she had to get back to where she belonged. Seventeenth century Scotland was wonderful to read about it history books, or even in a romance now and then, but to live here? Not on your life.
Hailey would be frantic by now, as well as her sister, not to mention her brothers. They'd probably be tearing the castle and Scotland apart by now. Her parents wouldn't even realize she was gone until someone told them. Even then, they probably wouldn't be overly concerned about it.
She balanced the tray with the broth on her lap for a moment and rubbed her temples. The frustration she felt, along with all the thoughts rushing about in her overworked brain, brought on the full-blown headache that had threatened yesterday.
What she wouldn't give for two aspirin and maybe a good strong drink. Actually, a shot of whiskey would go a long way at this point. Kris sighed and, finished with her stew, placed the tray on the small table beside her and rose from the bed to pace.
Okay, so she was stuck in the seventeenth century. Let's try again to look at this with some logical thought.
What other art-history student, or professor for that matter, could say they had first-hand knowledge of what really happened, what life was actually like, in this time period? Not a single one. If not for the concern about her family's reaction, she might not be so desperate to return, might actually find this trip through time fascinating. After all, other than her family, what did she have to return too? No man waited for her return, no loving husband or fiancé would miss her. She didn't even have a boyfriend in the future, nor any prospects for one either. She had school and work and in between those two, she did homework. No time for a social life.
She sighed. Somehow she would just have to make the best of her situation for now until she figured out how to get home. She also could not, under any circumstances, let Iain know her true identity. Heaven forbid his reaction if he ever discovered she was a Campbell.
A shudder went through her at the thought. It would likely not be pretty. She had no desire to end up in his dungeon or pit or wherever they put prisoners. Perhaps she could feign amnesia. Would he buy that? It was possible. It might be worth a shot.
The door to her room burst open with a resounding crash. Kris spun around in surprise, the object of her recent thoughts in the doorway. She opened her mouth to ask what his problem was, but his dark, angry expression made her close her mouth with a snap.
"Ye are a witch!" H
is voice bounced off the walls of the chamber like thunder.
Kris tried to take a step backward, but found she was frozen in place. A shiver of panic snaked down her spine. A witch? Speechless, she shook her head.
"Nay, dinnae think to deny it. I have proof." Iain waved whatever he held in his hand under her nose.
Kris followed it with her eyes, trying desperately to see what it was, but he pulled it away too fast for her to get a good look at it and stuck it in his sporran.
Footsteps rumbled in the hall as angry male voices came toward her room. Several large men appeared behind Iain, swords drawn, faces scowling darkly. Wonderful, Kris thought, the defensive line has shown up.
"Where is the witch?" One of the men bellowed. He stood only a bit shorter than Iain, but looked just as fierce. "And how in the name of all that is holy did a witch get into the keep?"
"'Tis nay what ye think," Iain glanced from Kristianna to Raibert and back again. He signaled to the man to stand down. "I shall deal with this. Go back to your duties, lads."
Almost reluctantly, then men quit the room. Their boot steps less harried, they returned to the hall, mumbling to each other. All but Raibert, who stood and stared at Kris, a knowing look on his face.
"I thought her mayhap merely a spy." He resheathed his sword and crossed his arms in front of his chest, a self-satisfied, tight-lipped scowl on his handsome face. "I knew 'twas too convenient for her to show up now, laird, just as we are in the middle of planning…"
"Leave us." Iain held up a hand. "'Tis for me to deal with, Raibert."
Raibert started to argue, but Iain silenced him with a look. He threw one last glower at Kris, shrugged, and stomped from the room.
Kris thought she caught something about seeing to the wood for the fire, but prayed she was wrong. Iain closed the door with a quiet click and strode across the room to stand in front of her.
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