by Pam Binder
“Better,” he said. “Now the belt. Once that’s done, I’ll take care of the sword and scabbard.”
She handed it to him, and he secured it in place. “I’m the one who’s done all this research, and yet you know how this type of kilt is worn. How is that possible?”
“Romance novels.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Cautiously, C.C. and Michael edged out of the alleyway toward the laughter and singing in the streets. Music seemed to chase away the frost in the air as the Scottish folk songs drew people into the streets. With the energy and crush of people, it no longer felt cold. The number of vendors and street performers had multiplied. Jugglers in bright colors entertained with knives, balls, and flaming batons. A section of the street was cordoned off for the dances now taking place.
Still holding her hand, Michael guided C.C. closer so they could view the dancing. Other observers like themselves made room for them. For one dance, couples faced each other, pacing the steps of what looked like a reel of some sort. Moving forward, they passed each other on the right, only to then dance backwards to their original place. The precision was amazing. Mesmerized, C.C. watched, trying to commit the steps to memory. In other dances, several couples took hands and formed circles, dancing around until they all became dizzy or dissolved into laughter and giggles.
The singing and laughter intensified with the tempo of the music. The notes of the fiddles lifted over the bagpipes as though the two instruments were in competition. People sang along with the melodies. The words to the songs became more raucous as the night marched toward the stroke of midnight.
There were silly songs:
“If all the world were paper and all the water ink.
If all the trees were bread and cheese.
What would I have to drink?”
And C.C. recognized a song from Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night:
“When I was a bachelor, I led a merry life;
But now I am a married man and troubled with a wife.”
But the song that brought the most reaction from the crowd was:
“John, come kiss me now, now, now;
And make no more ado.”
The song was a clear signal to reach for your partner or to try and steal a kiss from a stranger. Couples gave in to the sport, laughed, and kissed. The musicians were aware of the magic they had created and slowed down their melodies. It would be at least a hundred or more years before slow dancing became fashionable, but couples found each other, breaking the rules. Others held hands or slipped into the shadows.
C.C. stood on the perimeter alongside Michael; it was as though they were observing a play. She glanced toward him, feeling shy for some reason. When he had challenged the advances of Bonnie Prince Charlie, it had been like an out-of-body experience for her, like she was a princess in a fairytale. Her girly side had almost thrown up her arms and cheered. Now she knew what a Super Bowl cheerleader felt like when she witnessed her team making the winning touchdown.
There had been a shift in their relationship without a word being spoken. It could be the romance of the place or the shared sense of danger that was the root of the change. She didn’t care. Her mother had told her to live each moment as though tomorrow would never come. Those words had been tumbling through her mind all evening. When Michael had reached for her hand in the tavern, she hadn’t hesitated. They had been thrown together into this adventure, and now they were a team. How long would it last?
Live in the moment.
Feeling bold, she squeezed his hand. As though he’d been as aware of her as she was of him, he immediately turned toward her. The expression in his eyes held a lifetime of questions.
She answered the one that was the easiest. “Yes, I’d love to dance with you.”
Michael’s eyes brightened with an inner light. He gave a slight nod and pulled C.C. into the street and into his arms. Instead of matching their steps to the tempo of the fiddle, he slowed them down even more so that the music flowed over and around them. He leaned toward her and pressed his head gently against hers. They were so close she could feel his heartbeat vibrate through her.
The world spun around her. The intimacy was intoxicating, and the music and laughter faded into the background. Absently, she noticed couples chasing each other in the streets, and laughing when they caught each other. A dog barked. Children played hide and seek. It was past their bedtime, she mused. She knew she was searching for distractions. Anything to keep from examining how she was feeling. It wasn’t working.
Her emotions flew in dozens of directions at the same time. They were dancing slowly, yet she was out of breath.
Michael pressed a kiss on the side of her head. “I’ve dreamed about holding you in my arms since the first time we met.”
She trembled, not knowing how to react or what she wanted. That wasn’t true. She knew exactly what she wanted. She wanted him to kiss her like he had at the wedding. She relived the moment. Had she known then? She knew she admired him and was frustrated that Tatiana took him for granted. C.C. had spent more than a few evenings alone wondering why he was interested in someone who couldn’t make him smile. C.C. drew back to gaze at him. He was so close she could feel the warmth of his lips a half breath away.
“Nana told me to ask you out,” he said, moving closer.
C.C. blinked, focusing on his eyes, his mouth. Did this man have any idea how wonderful he was? “Do you know why she might say that? I only spent a short time with her during Christmas dinner.”
He nodded. “Her exact words were: ‘If you don’t ask that angel out, you’re a fool.’”
“I’m no angel,” she said, glancing away. She was crushing on a man who belonged to someone else.
“I never disagree with Nana. She’s always right, especially when it comes to people.”
He pulled her into his arms and her head rested against his chest. Her heart pounded so loud she was sure he could hear it beat. She had been nervous when he introduced her to his nana at Christmas. C.C. knew how important Michael’s grandmother was to him, which created an irrational desire to make a good impression. And that was weird, she had chided herself. After all, she wasn’t the girlfriend. She was the employee.
When she was introduced, his nana had immediately pulled C.C. into a warm embrace, asking about her family, her dreams, and finally what she thought about Michael.
She pulled away to look at him. “I just met your grandmother the one time,” C.C. finally said.
“As I mentioned, she’s a good judge of character. One meeting was all that she needed. That’s when she asked me why I hadn’t asked you out. I told her it was because I didn’t know which answer I dreaded more from you: The one where you said yes, or the one where you said no.”
He leaned toward her, and his lips parted. He was waiting for her answer. Her heart screamed to say yes. But he was Michael Campbell. What could he possibly see in her? And what about Tatiana?
She stood on her tiptoes to reach him. Her mouth brushed against his. Heat and promise in a touch. The music blended into the background, merging with the sights and sounds of the celebrations. A blend of blues, silvers, and greens. Second by second, the world drifted away. All that remained was Michael. She closed her eyes…
“We found him, lads,” a man said, shattering the spell.
Michael was hit on the head from behind.
C.C. screamed as a man with a scar across his face grabbed her and yanked her away from Michael. He smelled of ale and sweat. She twisted in the man’s arms and brought her heel down on the man’s shoe. He yelped in pain and stumbled back, dropping his weapon. She scooped it up and rushed to Michael’s side.
Michael had pulled his sword from its scabbard and now faced the bearded man from the tavern.
She struggled with the sword’s weight and the effort to keep it level. It was heavier than it looked. “Don’t come any closer,” she shouted above the din of music and laughter. Her voice carried, silencing those in the immedi
ate area.
The prince’s men from the tavern, and more she didn’t recognize, emerged from the crowd, weapons drawn.
Laughter erupted from the men who had attacked Michael. “I admire your grit,” the bearded man said to C.C., “and we have your man surrounded. Ye can barely hold the blade. I can see it in your gaze. Ye have neither the stomach nor the strength to use such a man’s weapon. We are not here for you, lass. We are here for your man.”
Fiona stepped out from the crowd, with Liam beside her. Both held swords. “We’re here to even the odds. I’ll thank you to leave our friends alone.”
“Stand aside,” the bearded man said.
“And let you harm them? I most certainly will not.” She leveled her sword at the man’s throat. “Ye all know me and that I never stand aside. You’re a drunk and a bully. There’s nothing for ye here.”
The bearded man hesitated. “We all saw it in the Water Horse tavern. This man wore the Campbell colors. The clan is known to harbor sympathy to England, and thus he is an enemy to Bonnie Prince Charlie and our cause. I have my orders.”
“Wearing the Campbell colors was an innocent mistake,” Fiona said. “As you can see, he discarded them. His accent clearly signals that he is from the American colonies. The Americans are not your enemy. They too, struggle under England’s rule.”
The man with the scar, who had grabbed C.C., whispered to the bearded man. Their heated exchange resulted in nods of agreement and the bearded man sheathing his weapon. “Very well,” he said. “But this is not over.”
Liam kept his sword ready until the men dispersed, then said to Fiona, “That was odd.”
“Everyone’s on edge, that’s all.”
“We’d better get C.C. and Michael away from the celebrations.”
Fiona nodded and sheathed her sword as she turned toward the two time-travelers. “I know a few of these men. They are looking for a fight. There is a vacant cottage a short distance from here, along the shoreline. It has a blue door, an herb garden, and a lit candle in the window. You will be safe there until it’s time for you to return. When the church bells chime eleven o’clock, you can head for your rendezvous with William and the coach. Until then, you need to stay as far away from the town as possible. Just make sure you reach the rendezvous location on time.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
They’d been walking for what seemed like over an hour, but C.C. knew that couldn’t be true as she heard church bells calling out the time. She pulled her cloak around her against the frosted breeze. Snowflakes swirled in the air, prelude to a storm.
Finding the cottage Fiona had mentioned was more difficult than she had suggested. All the cottages along the shore so far had either a blue door without a candle in the window, or a candle without the blue door. One of the things they all had in common, however, was an herb garden.
But it was so romantic. Even though it was the dead of winter in Inverness, Scotland, C.C. felt as though she could go on walking with Michael like this forever. The crescent moon and the stars had come out from behind the clouds. In the distance, light from the various bonfires combined to help guide them. A few rowboats were tied to pilings, indicating that the water was deep even close to shore.
Michael slowed. “There’s a cottage that looks like the one Fiona described,” he said, breaking into her thoughts. “I’ll make sure it’s safe. I’ll just be a few minutes.”
C.C. concentrated on her footing. By now, it was likely the bearded man and his friends had spread the word that a member of the Campbell clan was in Inverness. She was grateful Fiona had wanted them to leave.
She shivered, pulled her cloak around her even tighter, and blew on her hands. Michael had told her to stay put. “Where does he think I’m going to go?” she muttered under her breath. This was nuts. She couldn’t stand still. She had to keep moving or she’d freeze to death. Okay, maybe not freeze to death. That was a little over the top, but she was very cold. She should have asked Fiona for a pair of boots. The Cinderella slippers looked breathtakingly beautiful, but they pinched her feet and were useless against the cold.
Making sure she kept in sight the location where Michael had gone, she traced a path back and forth along the shoreline. A small shadow darted past her. It looked like the same snow-white kitten she’d seen in the alley. Had it followed her? More likely, it was one of many kittens with the same coloring in Inverness.
It padded along the lip of the frozen shoreline, alternating between sniffing the tall grasses and taking a delicate bite. It gave a series of soft meows as though chatting with C.C., then suddenly let out a high-pitched scream and splashed into the water.
The kitten had fallen in.
C.C. rushed as close as she dared to the edge of the shore. Under the glow of the moon, a circle of ripples spread out from where she’d seen the kitten disappear. She called out to it, as though that would help. Seconds ticked by until it surfaced a short distance away. She sighed with relief just as a new fear set in. Cats didn’t like the water. Did they even know how to swim? The current pulled the kitten toward the center of the river as the little animal thrashed around and cried out.
Easing still closer to the water, C.C. tried to reach it by extending her arm, but the current and the animal’s efforts to keep his head above water only succeeded in moving the animal farther away. C.C. inched her way forward until she stood in the half-submerged marshy grasses.
She sucked in her breath as ice-cold water lashed against her skin. Keeping pace with the progress of the kitten as it drifted along, C.C. sloshed through the grasses and once again reached out. She was still too far away.
C.C. took another step closer to the kitten and lost her footing. She screamed and plunged into the river. Ice-cold needles shot through her. She forced down the panic and fought back to the surface, gasping for breath.
Her legs tangled in both the long material of her dress and the thick underwater plants. Disoriented, like the time she’d bodysurfed and been caught in an undertow, she tried to tamp down her growing panic. All she could see was water.
C.C. splashed in the same way the kitten had moments before, and with the same results. She was being pulled closer and closer to the center of the river. Even if Michael realized she’d fallen in, would he be able to find her in time?
Something brushed against her legs. She screamed as thoughts of crocodiles and water snakes entered her thoughts. Breathing heavily, she tried to calm down.
Great. Just great. She was drowning, and irrational thoughts of being torn to bits by imaginary monsters were not helpful.
She pushed the thoughts from her mind, willing herself to concentrate on keeping her head above water. Her body went numb. She couldn’t feel her legs. She didn’t know how much longer she could keep her head above water. How long before hypothermia set in? Minutes? Seconds?
****
Michael dove into the icy currents of the River Ness and surfaced a short distance from C.C. He’d heard her scream but hadn’t been able to reach her in time. She had been pulled into the center of the river. Miraculously, her head was still above the surface, but she was losing her fight. Her eyes were half closed and her arms limp as she began to sink beneath the dark waters.
He intensified his efforts to reach her, and in a few clean strokes he was close enough to pull her head above water. Her body sagged against him like a rag doll, and she gasped for breath. Her eyes fluttered shut.
He shook her gently. “Stay awake,” he ordered, knowing there was panic in his voice. He fought against the numbing cold and his mounting fear as he swam toward shore. She was breathing and conscious. That was something. He held onto that ray of hope.
Once he was on solid ground, he raced toward the vacant cottage he’d found earlier. When he kicked open the door, he found the wood fire he’d built to surprise her had already warmed the one room of the cottage. He put her down in front of the hearth and rubbed her arms and legs. She was shaking, and her lips had turned blue wit
h the cold, but she was awake.
“We have to get you out of these clothes.”
She nodded slowly. Her voice was so faint he had to lean forward to hear. “The fire’s nice. Who made it?”
He started to answer her question, but she slumped against him, unconscious.
Chapter Twenty-Four
A log in the fireplace shifted, sending amber sparks into the chimney and warm heat throughout the cottage. Candles burned on a table near a window, and a cupboard displaying china plates painted with blue and yellow wildflowers hung on the far wall next to a rocking chair. C.C. leaned against Michael’s chest. She’d never felt so content. She snuggled in Michael’s embrace under the layers of blankets. She flexed her fingers. Her hands and feet still tingled from exposure to the cold water, but she knew she was out of danger.
She didn’t know how long it had been since he’d rescued her; she’d drifted in and out of consciousness only to have Michael call her back each time. She did remember that he’d turned away when she took off her clothes and bundled up in the blanket. Her clothes were draped over a chair to dry, but she had lost her wedding slippers when her legs and feet tangled in the underwater grasses.
The snow-white kitten that had caused all the trouble lay curled beside the hearth. The ball of fluff opened its eyes and gave C.C. a typical catlike blank stare. C.C. liked to think that the kitten was saying thank you and gave it a nod. The kitten closed its eyes once more and purred.
The steady rise and fall of Michael’s breathing was comforting, and the small cottage felt like an enchanted place where time really could stand still.
“How are you feeling?” he said. His voice was deep and rich and seemed to add warmth to the air.
She loved the sound of his voice. It made her feel… No, don’t go down that path. She kept her focus on the dancing flames and the sleeping kitten. “I feel well,” she said, knowing that wasn’t even close to what she was feeling. “Thank you for saving me.”