Plus, the McGladreys would be overjoyed to hear news of their daughter. Thinking of Meghan, she wondered whether or not she’d given birth to her bairn yet—in her century, that is. In this one, all her kin would have been long dead. She couldn’t bear thinking about that, and turned her mind to her plans for the morrow. Sleep finally came to her, and she gladly succumbed.
Sky awoke to the sound of voices. For a few glorious moments, she imagined herself at Loch Moigh, safe in her own chamber and in her own bed, but she kent better. Her stomach rumbled. Delicious smells filled the small chamber, including what she now recognized as coffee. Mayhap she’d try it again, only with less sweetness this time.
How long had she slept? She climbed out of the narrow cot. Sunlight slipped through the slats of the single window’s odd shutter. Moving to the window, Sky studied the covering. A string hung to one side, and she tugged on it to see what would happen. The bottom edge of the shutter rose, letting in more light and giving her a glimpse of the surrounding wood.
She turned back to the chamber and searched for her gown. Had Marjorie taken it? She couldn’t remember, but ’twas nowhere to be found. Male laughter drifted back from the front of the trailer, and her stomach growled again. Snatching a blanket from the cot, she wrapped it about herself like a cloak. She managed to slide the door open whilst holding the makeshift cloak in place as she made her way to the garderobe. Bathroom. In this time, ’twas called a bathroom.
“Morning, princess,” Struan called out. “We were beginning to worry. You’ve been asleep since yesterday afternoon.”
That long? “Good morn,” Sky mumbled, slipping into the tiny garderobe and closing the door behind her. Embarrassment heated her face. She had no brush, no way to clean her teeth and no garments to don. How could she face the Gordons thus? How could she face Struan? Mayhap she’d wait within the privy until she heard the men leave for the lists. Did Michael, Struan and Gene even train as the men did in her time? Were there even such things as lists in the twenty-first-century Renaissance fairs?
A light knock on the door made her jump, and the blanket around her shoulders fell to the floor. “Aye?”
“I have clean clothes for you, and I thought you might like to take a shower,” Marjorie said through the thin door. “I also brought you a toothbrush.”
Take a shower? Sky opened the door. “My thanks.”
Marjorie joined her in the small bit of space until there was hardly any room for either of them to move. “Let me show you how to use the shower, and then I’ll leave you be.” She hung the garments over hooks on the back of the door and set two thick folded cloths and the toothbrush on the edge of the basin. She patted the cloths. “Clean towels.” Then she opened a drawer and pointed. “Toothpaste, a hairbrush and a wide-toothed comb you’re welcome to use.”
Sky nodded, eyeing the contents of the drawer and the things Marjorie had set on the edge of the basin. She watched carefully as Marjorie demonstrated how to make warm water spray out of the fixture within the curtained stall. She held her hand under the spray. “’Tis perfect.”
“It’s tight in here, but at least you’ll be able to bathe. We should have enough water in the tank, but you might want to be quick.” Marjorie turned off the water. “I know the skirt and blouse will be way too large for you, but I have a belt we can use until we can buy clothes that fit.” She backed out of the garderobe. “When you’re ready, come join us for breakfast.” She leaned over and picked up the blanket Sky had dropped before leaving.
Sky hurried through her ablutions, dried herself and brushed her teeth with the sweet, minty paste Marjorie had shown her. The ends of her hair had gotten wet in the shower, and she unbraided it to dry. She pulled the comb through the tangles until her hair hung smooth and free to her waist. She had to clutch the front of the skirt to keep it on, and the shoulders of the blouse kept slipping off. ’Twas the best she could do for now.
Tidying up after herself, she gathered her chemise, her dagger and sheath, and hung up the towel to dry. She returned to the small chamber, and after she made her bed, she folded her chemise and placed it at the end of the cot. She bunched the waist of the skirt in one hand and made her way to the front of the Gordons’ camper. The moment she stepped into the kitchen area, the short sleeves of the borrowed blouse once again slipped down her shoulders.
Michael took one look at her and choked on his food. He coughed, and his face turned scarlet. Gene slapped the lad’s back.
“Good morn,” she said, sliding the flimsy fabric back into place on one shoulder, only to have the other side slip farther down her arm. “I fear these borrowed garments are—”
“They certainly are.” Struan stood abruptly and moved to the counter. “I have things to do,” he said, filling a container with coffee. “You can have my place at the table, Sky.”
With that, he left in a rush without even so much as a glance her way. She sensed his agitation. Sky’s face heated. Did she look so ridiculous she gave offense?
Marjorie slid out from her place and snatched something from the padded bench behind the table. “This will help.” She wrapped a leather belt around Sky’s waist, fastened it, and then tugged the bottom of the blouse down under the leather until the top tightened enough to stay in place. “Right after breakfast, we’ll head for the mall.” She stood back to study her handiwork. “It’ll have to do. At least with the belt, you don’t have to hold the skirt up in front of you.”
“Did Struan leave for the lists?” she asked as she took her place at the table. His sudden departure shouldn’t upset her, but it did. Like his wariness and resentment toward her, she felt compelled to uncover the cause.
“He might be meeting friends for a bit of training.” Gene shrugged. “But I suspect he’s fighting a battle of an entirely different nature.”
Sky puzzled over what that might mean. Surely her presence was a painful reminder of his past, and that was what Gene referred to.
Michael cleared his throat. “A minute ago, with your hair all wavy and hanging down around your shoulders, and with the sun from the window hitting you just right, you looked just like one of those old paintings of a beautiful medieval lady.”
“From what I ken, I am a medieval lady, lad.” But hardly beautiful. Her stomach growled audibly. “Am I no’?”
“That you are, and by the sounds of it, a hungry one besides.” Gene handed her a clean plate. “Dig in.”
Michael handed her a platter with sausages and eggs. Sky filled her plate, took a piece of the toasted bread from another platter and broke her fast. “Mmm, this is delicious,” she mumbled through a mouthful. “I thought I might try coffee again, only not quite so sweet this time.”
“I’ll get some for you, and you can fix it yourself.” Michael hurried to the counter and poured some of the dark liquid into an earthenware mug. He returned and placed the steaming cup before her. “Sugar,” he said, sliding a small, lidded bowl close. “And here’s the cream. Add a little of each and taste it before adding more.”
She did as he suggested until the coffee was exactly right. “Ah, I find I do like coffee after all. My mother never cared much for it, but Erin and Meghan are always going on about how much they miss their morning coffee.” She took another sip.
“It must have been strange for your family,” Gene said, propping his elbows on the table. “Having all those experiences with faeries, time travel and such.”
“I suppose, but it never felt strange to me, since one of the time-travelers is my mother. I’ve never kent any different. I’ve no’ seen any of the fae myself, and I’m glad for it. Speaking of my mother, I believe I might have kin in Minnesota, for she had many cousins, aunties and uncles. She’s Anishinaabe. Have you heard of her people?”
“Can’t say as I have,” Gene remarked.
“I think they’re the same as the Chippewa, right?” Michael scraped up the last bit of egg on his plate, using a corner of his toast, and then he stuffed the whole thing into his
mouth.
“Aye.” Sky grinned. “My mother is also half Scottish, MacConnell like my foster brother, Hunter.”
She finished her meal and helped Marjorie clean up the kitchen while Michael and Gene left to ready their destriers for the morning’s jousting matches.
Marjorie wiped her hands on a bit of linen. Then she took a set of keys from a small hook. “Time to shop. Are you ready?”
“For the truck or for the outlet mall?” she asked.
Marjorie chuckled. “Both.”
“I dinna ken.” She shrugged. “I have no idea what an outlet mall might be, and I have only the vaguest notion of trucks and their uses.”
“You’re about to find out about both. Come with me.”
Sky followed Marjorie out of the trailer. Already the morning held the promise of the day’s heat to come. Hazy sunlight filtered through the thick canopy of leaves above them, and the air was still and moist against her skin. Not a leaf or a blade of grass stirred.
A fresh breeze always blew across the loch at home. Her heart wrenched. Mayhap she’d have time yet this day to search the fair for Madame Giselle.
“Climb in. You can put your foot on the running board there,” Marjorie said, opening the door to the truck.
Once the two of them had climbed in and she’d settled back against the cushioned seats, Sky studied the interior. Everything was so foreign to her. A vibrating rumble started up, and she gripped the edges of her seat. Marjorie leaned over and drew a belt across Sky’s chest and lap, fastening it beside her. She had to be strapped in for this? Eyeing the campsite, she began to have doubts about riding anywhere in a truck.
“Now, Sky, when we get to the mall, I want you to pay attention to how the young women are dressed. It’s going to seem strange to you, but I’m sure you’ll get used to it.”
The truck began to move, and she tightened her grip on the seat. “How is it possible for this wagon to move without something pulling it forward?”
“It’s propelled forward by something called a combustion engine, and it’s fueled by gasoline.”
She nodded, though she hadn’t understood a single word. What good would it do to ask more questions, when they’d only lead to more answers she couldn’t understand? Instead, she focused on the road ahead and continued to grip the edges of her seat. They followed a trail of flattened grass and hard-packed earth that led out of the forest to a large area covered with more cars and trucks. Marjorie followed large signs with the word EXIT printed upon them, and soon they joined a vast river of cars and trucks hurtling along at a dizzying speed.
“Are you all right, Sky?”
“I am, though ’tis passing strange to travel thus.” The changing landscape flew by.
“I can imagine. Before you know it, you’ll be driving yourself.”
“Think you?” Sky’s eyes went wide as she considered the possibilities. Could she drive a truck? Did she even want to attempt such a feat? Excitement thrummed through her. Aye, she did.
“Of course. That reminds me, we’ll have to get Ethan, my oldest, started on procuring identification for you, like he did for Struan. Once you have a birth certificate, you can learn how to drive and we’ll help you get your license.”
Soon Marjorie turned onto a smaller road, and they came to a cluster of buildings—large, flat-topped structures with glass fronts. People walked along outside of the buildings, sometimes stopping in front of one or another, and then entering. What the structures held was a mystery. “Is this the outlet mall you spoke of?”
“It is.” Marjorie found a place between two other vehicles, drove into the spot and did something that caused the truck’s rumbling to cease. “Remember to pay attention to how the young women of this time dress. You’ll want to fit in.”
Sky surveyed the people walking along before her. Shocking! The women were scarcely clad at all. The legs, midriffs, shoulders and arms of many of the lasses were completely bare. “I can’t dress like that! Why, they’re practically naked.”
Marjorie clucked. “We’ll find things you can wear that are somewhere in the middle of what you’re accustomed to and today’s styles.” She climbed out of the truck, slung the strap of her bag high on her shoulder and waited for Sky to get out.
She hesitated, visualizing her father’s reaction should he catch her dressed in such an immodest manner. His face would turn purple, and his tirade would raise the slate roof of their hall. Sighing, she climbed out. She couldn’t wear her velvet gown in this heat, and the skirt and chemise Marjorie had loaned her were far too large. “How shall I pay for—”
“You don’t have to worry about that. Struan is paying.”
“He is?” Her brow rose.
“He says since he’s a Sutherland, he’s the closest thing to kin you have here. He sees it as his duty to look after you.” Marjorie led her toward the buildings. “We’ll have to get some underthings first, so you can try on everything else. Normally we’d wash your new clothes before you wear them, but under the circumstances that’s not possible.”
“Why would Struan view me as kin just because he’s a Sutherland?” She’d asked about his sire, but he’d told her naught. Still, there were many Sutherlands, and only the earl’s family were kin to her by marriage.
“I don’t know that he does, but you did mention your aunts are married to Sutherlands. He said the closest thing to kin. Besides, you landed at his feet.”
“Och, nay. ’Twas more like at his mount’s hooves. Mayhap the horse should take responsibility for me, if that be Struan’s logic.”
“You don’t want his help?”
“In purchasing clothing? Nay, ’tis far too personal a gift for one who is no’ a male relative,” she muttered, “but I have little choice in the matter.” She’d give him one of her gold coins. He already resented her, and for whatever reason, he’d become agitated by the sight of her earlier. It must gall him to see himself as the only male kin she had here, therefore his responsibility.
Her eyes stung. She’d always been surrounded by a large and loving family. She’d never doubted her place or her worth. Being dependent upon a man who clearly wished she hadn’t dropped into his life chafed. “Marjorie, where is my gown? I could no’ find it this morn.”
“It’s hanging in the closet. Why? Did you want to wear that heavy thing today?”
“Nay. I have a few coins sewn into the hem and bodice. I shall repay Struan for his generosity once we return.”
“Ah. I see.” She gestured toward one of the many doors. “There’s the underwear store. We’ll start there and work our way down to the shoe store.”
Hours later, and dressed in what Marjorie had referred to as khaki capris and a T-shirt, Sky tugged at the uncomfortable undergarment she wore beneath her soft shirt. A bra, Marjorie had told her, was an absolute necessity. I think not. And as soon as she could, she meant to take it off and put it away. She did like the panties, though, and the sandals. The shoes cushioned her feet in a most amazing manner.
Sky shifted her hold on the bags she carried. They had purchased jeans, capris, blouses, T-shirts, shorts, skirts and even a scanty garment called a sundress, which seemed more like a chemise to her. She had two sets of garments solely for sleep, and she now had a pair of sandals and another pair of sturdier shoes Marjorie called “sneakers.” Were they truly meant for sneaking about?
“Here we are,” Marjorie said, unlocking the truck. “Even though it’s only been a couple of hours since we had lunch, I’m starving. Shopping is hard work.”
“Indeed,” Sky said, stowing her bags in the space behind where she’d sit. They’d had their midday meal earlier in a restaurant, and Sky had eaten her very first cheeseburger and fries. Her mother oft spoke of missing bacon cheeseburgers and extra crispy fries, and now Sky understood what she’d been talking about. Far too salty and greasy for her tastes.
“Gene is grilling tonight.” Marjorie added the bags she carried to the pile. “Good thing, too, because I’m beat
. We’re going to stop at a grocery store on the way back and pick up a few side dishes.”
“Och, aye?” She tried to respond appropriately, but without having any idea what Marjorie meant, ’twas far too taxing. She already had a headache from trying so hard to keep up with all she’d experienced this day.
Marjorie chuckled. “You don’t have any idea what I’m talking about, do you?”
“Nay.” Sky climbed into the truck and sighed. Never had it felt so wonderful to simply sit. Only during their clan’s harvests did she feel this tired, and that was only physical. The exhaustion she suffered in this time affected her mind as well as her body. Mayhap she still suffered fatigue from her journey through time as well. ’Twas only yesterday, after all. “Might I remain in the truck when next we stop?”
“Of course.” Marjorie patted Sky’s arm. “I imagine this is all a bit overwhelming for you.”
“Aye, for certes.” Sky leaned her head back and closed her eyes. “Overwhelming, confusing, disconcerting . . . and I miss my kin so terribly much.” A lump rose to her throat, and her eyes filled. “’Twould no’ be so bad if I kent for certain I’ll return home, but—”
“Things will work out, Sky. You’ll see.”
Sky nodded, wishing with all her might that she had Marjorie’s certainty about her future. The next thing she kent, Marjorie was nudging her awake.
“We’re here.”
Stretching, Sky scanned her surroundings. Gene stood before a contraption spewing smoke from the top. She climbed out to find the air redolent with the delicious smell of roasting meat.
Struan sat at the table with an ale in his hand. Immediately she sensed his agitation toward her. She sighed. “Marjorie, if you please, I’d like to have my sgian dubh returned to me.”
“Oh, of course.” She fished around in her bag. “I couldn’t let her wear it strapped to her calf while she tried on clothes, you see,” Marjorie said, aiming her comments at her husband. “So I kept the blade sheathed and in my purse.”
The Highlander's Vow (Loch Moigh #4) Page 5