by Laura Glenn
She had cringed when Rathe dragged her out of the forest and in front of them, assuming they were well aware of what had just happened between her and Rathe. But not one of the men threw her a critical look. Though she still couldn’t understand most of what they were saying, they only spoke in the most respectful tones to Rathe and were careful to avert their eyes from her.
Rathe glanced up toward her, one corner of his mouth turning up in acknowledgment as he continued speaking with his men. This time she didn’t shrink back from the window but instead returned his smile with a small one of her own.
“Leah.”
She turned just as Alpina approached her with a cup. “Here, my dear, this will relax you.”
The scent of whisky wafted up to Leah’s nose as she accepted the cup. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. The last thing she needed was more whisky after what that stuff had encouraged her to do last night.
“I told you it was not possible to go home,” the mormaer stated, his brow furrowed in disappointment as he stared at her.
Ah, the hell with it.
She lifted the cup to her lips. She swallowed a small sip of the heady, fiery liquid, and it burned down her throat. “You have not given me a good explanation for why. I keep asking and you keep refusing.”
She set the cup upon the table near the bed. If only Mary and Alpina weren’t in the room, then maybe she could get to the bottom of what David knew. She didn’t always agree with his high-handed dictates, but she was in full agreement with him about never revealing how she’d arrived here in this world. She was already stuck in a medieval nightmare and she didn’t need accusations of black magic hurled at her.
David nodded. “It matters not. Other men would publicly flog you for such flagrant disobedience to your overlord, but I will keep this little rebellious display quiet as long as you promise to behave.”
Leah backed up until her shoulders hit the stone wall, the blood draining from her face. He’d never threatened her before. He’d been firm and vague but never alarming. What if she didn’t behave? What if she tried to leave again and was caught? Would David actually consider flogging her?
This wasn’t a medieval nightmare. It was hell.
David clasped his hands behind his back as he approached her. Lifting his chin, he stared down his long straight nose at her. “I daresay your husband will thank me for this. You will not be running from him either, you hear me? I will come after you myself, if I have to.”
Nausea settled into Leah’s stomach. She resisted the urge to slide down to the floor in utter defeat and instead stared past David’s shoulder, dumbfounded. Why did she have to end up here? Of all the time periods in history, why the thirteenth century? Why not the Victorian or Edwardian era? Sure, maybe women still didn’t have the right to vote, but at least most didn’t consider public flogging of a woman an appropriate punishment for trying to assert some independence. Social ostracization, maybe. But not violence.
Alpina appeared at her side, slipping a supportive arm around her waist. “There, there, my dear. It is all for the best. You will see.”
“Of course now I cannot possibly give you to the Dunlop,” David stated with a dismissive wave of his hand. “You have proved to be much less docile than I thought. He could not handle you.”
Docile? Leah almost snorted. When had she ever been not docile? If her mother was in one of her dictatorial moods, Leah did everything she was told without question. When her sister was demanding, Leah always gave in to whatever she wanted. When Simon wanted one thing and Leah wanted another, she always acquiesced to him. She’d never been anything but docile.
Except here in the thirteenth century. Here she was considered rebellious. An oddball. A well-educated woman who had grown up without any sense she was somehow inferior to a man. She could converse with the mormaer and anyone else on any of a number of subjects and hold her own. And, worst of all, she had made her own decision to leave the castle and find her way home when no one else would help her.
She was different. And “different” in the Middle Ages, like in many other time periods, often meant “dangerous”.
A tentative thread of confidence emerged from deep within her belly. She glanced back up at the mormaer and straightened her spine. His eyes shifted to Mary who was standing beside him. The woman wrung her hands as she stared at Leah.
David had never encouraged Leah to attempt to learn Gaelic and instead kept her busy speaking in English and French. Being immersed in the Highlands for the past two weeks had allowed her to pick up many Gaelic phrases, of course, but not enough to truly converse with Mary or with Glenna or Alexander, for that matter. It had been strange at first teaching Glenna French since she didn’t share a common language with the girl, but David’s daughter proved to have a remarkable ear for picking up unfamiliar languages and flourished.
David cleared his throat as though he could read the line of thought in Leah’s mind. She couldn’t help but stare at him as the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. Could the mormaer feel threatened by Leah’s presence in his castle? Was it why he had decided to marry her off?
“Instead of my choosing your husband for you, there will be a contest—a contest for your hand.” His eyebrows arched as though to challenge her to protest.
Well, that bit of confidence was short-lived. Her stomach flipped in anxiety again. “What do you mean?”
David shrugged. “The land and your hand will be the prize for the man who draws first blood on his opponent.”
Alpina gasped beside her, squeezing Leah’s waist. “Oh, how exciting! And so courtly! Surely this will net you a strong, powerful husband.”
Leah’s knees turned rubbery and she sank to the floor. “No, no, no,” she whispered, shaking her head.
This couldn’t be happening. Men fighting over her? There was no way this would work out. She was not the type of woman men fought and bled over. She was just a librarian from Minnesota. Her life was boring. She ate ice cream out of the container, drank unsweetened iced tea at restaurants, and vacationed in places like Chicago. She did not wear handmade leather shoes made by a castle cobbler, teach French to daughters of the nobility, or have a view of craggy, mossy-green Scottish mountains from her bedroom window. She also did not have men fighting to marry her.
And she most certainly did not have sex up against trees with near strangers.
This was not her life.
“Now, now, lass,” David chided, his tone softening as he assisted Alpina in picking her up off the floor.
They guided her to the bed and encouraged her to sit while Alpina fanned her with her hands as though afraid Leah would faint. David waved Alpina away and knelt down in front of Leah, patting her hand.
“I know this is a lot to take in. But I think you will be happy with the end result.” He gave her a secretive wink before arising and walking to the door. As he opened it, he turned back toward her. “I have assigned guards to you.” He motioned to two serious-looking young men standing just outside the door. “For your safety, of course.”
Of course.
Alpina sank down on the mattress next to her. “Here, my dear. Have another drink.”
David descended the stairs as he spotted Rathe across the courtyard. Leah was a welcome addition to his household, but the sooner he could get her married off, the better.
Too many questions were being asked. Men wanting to know if she was wealthy, well-connected or married. His wife wanting to know why she was better educated than he. He didn’t know how to answer any of these questions without divulging her secret.
He also didn’t know if he could protect her should the wrong person find out how much knowledge she possessed about the future.
Chills still rustled up David’s spine every time he recalled the morning with Leah in which he realized just how much knowledge she possessed. She’d agreed to help him translate various documents and write letters for him after he’d watched her writing in the dirt with Glenna out in th
e courtyard. Leah had asked what the date was as she was preparing to take a letter for him and then mused out loud the Scottish king should be in negotiations to marry the sister of England’s king right about now. Leah even knew the girl was a mere child of ten years who had just been sent to England after growing up in the French court. When he questioned Leah about it, she revealed to him King Alexander and his child bride would never have children and he would later marry the daughter of a French nobleman by whom he would conceive his only son.
David had been tempted to ask her more. To ask her what she knew of Scotland’s fate. Of his fate. But he did not dare. Instead he instructed her to never speak of anything she knew to anyone and then turned away to make the sign of the cross. Sure, she was no witch, but the extent of her knowledge still seemed somehow dangerous.
Deciding to send her to the Dunlop was for her own protection. The old laird’s lands were far enough away to reduce the chance of Leah’s exposure to those who might try to use her knowledge to their benefit. No, it wasn’t a perfect solution. Rathe was right. He was probably foolish to think the Dunlop could have kept the MacTavish away from her. As intelligent as Leah was, her nature was far too trusting and timid for him to believe the man couldn’t manipulate her into assisting him in one of his schemes. The MacTavish always did have an uncanny way of sensing whom he could get close to and use, but David hadn’t been able to come up with a better alternative.
Until now. He couldn’t believe he had overlooked the obvious choice just because the MacTavish might throw a tantrum over David’s showing any favoritism toward the Sinclair. Rathe was the perfect husband for her. As a close friend of the MacAirth, he already had experience in keeping a secret such as Leah’s. And he was loyal to the crown, not to mention a strong leader. Rathe could keep her quiet and in her place, allowing her to aid the king when necessary, and protect her secret from becoming known.
It was the least David could do for Leah. She had saved his son—he owed her.
“Rathe!” he called, quickening his pace.
Rathe excused himself from his men and met David halfway across the courtyard. “Is Leah all right?”
David hid the smile threatening to break across his face. He’d known Rathe since his father had claimed him over fifteen years ago. Wild and unrepentant as a youth, Rathe had been used to doing things on his own, in his own way, for most of his life and had no desire to be saddled with a wife, despite his father’s best intentions. Only time and his father’s death a decade ago wrestled Rathe into any semblance of sober responsibility. Having an entire clan depending upon you for protection, sustenance and guidance demanded a certain selflessness and maturity of which David had not been convinced Rathe was capable.
He had proved David wrong. He had proved them all wrong. Not only was he a fierce, cunning warrior, but Rathe had shown himself to be a gifted tactician and a brilliant negotiator. It was why the king had sent him to the French court. Plus, no matter where he went, he had an instant rapport with anyone he met. Men liked him or at least wanted to be like him. Women swooned over him.
But now Rathe was standing before him and he was the one swooning. David didn’t think he’d ever see the day, especially after chasing after him twice to marry at the king’s behest. He was only sorry Rathe had been subjected to such poor matches up to now.
“She is fine,” David replied with a nod as he came to a stop. “I have her under guard.”
“Good,” Rathe muttered, crossing his arms. “I am tempted to place a couple of my own men beneath her window in case she gets it into her head to escape that way.”
David allowed one corner of his mouth to turn up in a knowing smirk. “She might run again. Unless you convince her otherwise. I tried to put the fear of God into the lass, but I doubt it will last long. She is too smart and may take her fate into her own hands again. But she is also too trusting and I fear the wrong person will get a hold of her if we are not careful. She knows too much for us to let that happen.”
As he turned to leave, Rathe clasped his arm to stop him. “What do you mean Leah knows too much? What knowledge does she have?”
Brows raised, David turned back toward Rathe. “Knowledge of the future, of course. Like Anna MacAirth.”
“The future?”
David sighed. “You said you knew. I do not know where or when but both of them have come to us from some point in the future. Have you never wondered why Lady MacAirth knows so much about healing? Has so many forward-thinking ideas? And Leah.” He shook his head. “She knows too much about the political machinations of the king and his enemies. Knows what will happen and why. If she falls into the wrong hands—”
Rathe nodded. “I will not let it happen, I assure you. How far into the future though? Do you know?”
David shrugged. “I believe she mentioned the year 2014 to me.”
Rathe’s eyes widened. “That is nearly eight hundred years. How the hell could this have happened? And why?”
“You might have to find the Graham witch for that one.” David smacked Rathe on the arm. “Save your ale and wine for after you have claimed your bride. I want you at your best to defeat MacTavish.”
Chapter Eight
David’s voice boomed through the great hall below, bouncing off the stone walls and traveling up to where Leah and Alpina stood. Laughter followed and her shoulders tensed, forming a knot just below her neck.
“Oh, it is starting!” Alpina whispered, giving Leah’s arm a gentle squeeze.
A flicker of dread settled into Leah’s stomach and she leaned against the wall for support. Neither woman could see anything in the great hall from their perch at the top of the staircase that curved around to the second-floor landing, but David’s voice rang out loud and clear. Too bad she couldn’t understand a damn word since it was all in Gaelic. She turned her gaze to Alpina’s face, scrutinizing the lines of her expression for any indication of what was being said.
Alpina nodded as David spoke. “He is telling the men of your bravery in rescuing little Alexander. And of the land the king has granted to you. Ah, and now the contest for your hand,” Alpina translated. Her face broke into a wide grin. “Oh, my dear lass, this is so exciting! I nearly feel ten years younger myself!”
“But what—”
“Oh, shh! Shh, my love! The mormaer just asked for men to step forward for a chance to win your hand.”
Leah held her breath, each taunt and chuckle arising from below settling into her chest and wrapping around her heart as though to squeeze it into stillness. A voice she did not recognize announced his presence, sending the room into a fit of cheers and pounding on the tables and floor.
Alpina’s brows arched in surprise. “Oh, the MacTavish! He is a fine-looking man. And such a gentleman. I had no idea he was even here!”
As the applause abated, Alpina pressed her lips together and turned one ear toward the stairs. And then a deep, self-assured, all-too-familiar voice rang through the hall, sending a thrilling but frightening wave through Leah’s belly.
“Oh, my dear, dear girl!” Alpina cried, grasping Leah’s hand. “I am so sorry!”
Alpina made the sign of the cross and then intoned as if in prayer just as the men below broke into another, even louder roar of cheers and pounding. Normally, Leah would not dare interrupt anyone intent on communing with his or her maker, but the blood pounding in her temples was near to bursting. This was too stressful.
She clenched Alpina’s hand, not daring to put a name to the voice which caused her toes to curl. “Who is it?”
Alpina closed her eyes, her mouth twisting with anger. “Oooh, that man!” she muttered with a shake of her head.
“Who? Who is it?”
Alpina’s lips thinned as she tilted her head in sympathy. “It is the Sinclair. It appears he is quite taken with you, my dear.”
Leah’s knees buckled and she grabbed the wall next to her for support. She closed her eyes, concentrating on her breathing. What the hell did Rat
he think he was doing?
“It is probably because you have not fallen for his charms like so many other women. You have become a challenge for him.”
Flashes of Rathe’s warm lips pressed against her neck and breasts and his roughened palms skimming over her thighs fell upon Leah all at once. She bit her lower lip, unable to meet her companion’s gaze as her cheeks heated with a mixture of guilt and pleasure.
“Come. It is time. There is naught we can do but pray now.” Alpina disentangled her fingers from Leah’s hand and prodded her forward. “Deep breath. Keep your head held high. I will be right behind you.”
Leah nodded and descended the stairs. As the great hall came into view, dozens of men roared to life. Cheers and whistles echoed in the high ceilings above. Her limbs buzzed with threatening numbness, her ears deafened by the din of the crowd.
David strode forward with a gentle smile, his hand stretched toward her. She locked on to his brown eyes, desperate for something familiar and calming amidst the chaos. She slipped her hand into his and he drew her toward him as she reached the last step.
He patted her hand. “Do not fret, lass. Rathe is one of the best warriors I have.”
Leah cast skeptical eyes at him, unnerved by his cryptic tone. But before she could ask him what he meant, he held up his hand and the hall fell silent.
David guided her toward a dais upon which Mary sat alone between two empty chairs. The weight of the stares of dozens on men fell upon her shoulders and she stumbled as her feet entangled with one another.
“Easy, my dear. It will all be over soon,” David crooned into her ear as he caught her weight to hold her steady.
Mary’s pretty, upturned face greeted her, her brown eyes sparkling as she patted the chair next to her and murmured something in Gaelic. Leah sank into the rich gold-velvet cushion sitting atop the dark-brown chair with intricate carvings. Mary slipped her hand over Leah’s.