Between

by Tefft, Cyndi

  “All right, then. Give it a try.”

  I closed my eyes and pictured the outfit in my mind: beige slacks with brown loafers and a short-sleeved top made of the same pink silk as the dress I’d been wearing. That wavy shimmer passed through me. I opened my eyes hesitantly and looked down.

  “Hey, it worked. Sweet!”

  He helped me up onto the saddle. “You kept the pink silk for a blouse. Very clever.” He hoisted himself up in one fluid motion, then called out something to the horse and it took off like a shot through the gardens. His arm tightened around my stomach and I leaned against him, holding my breath, but it wasn’t long before I relaxed and began to enjoy the wind on my face.

  Aiden’s chest pressed against my back and his thighs held me firmly in place. We moved together as one, gliding in the saddle as the horse slowed to a steady gallop. The trees blurred with our passing and wisps of my hair tickled my cheeks. It was like riding in a speedboat with the wind swirling around me, but I felt a connection with the horse and the earth as we moved, something innately satisfying. The ride was over all too soon as we slowed to a walk at the edge of a clearing.

  “I thought you might like to stop here and have a picnic,” he said, his breath warm on my cheek. He swung down easily and offered me his hand. I wasn’t nearly so graceful as I dismounted, but he caught me in his arms. He stopped me halfway down with my breasts pressed tight against his chest. My heart caught in my throat at the sudden flame of passion in his eyes. His lips hovered before mine for a moment too long, but then he loosened his grip and let me slide the rest of the way to the ground.

  “Well, did you enjoy it?” he asked, his voice a shade deeper than usual. I wasn’t sure if he meant the horseback riding or the fact that I had been pressed against him, but the answer was an emphatic ‘yes’ regardless.

  “I loved it.”

  Chapter 5

  The horse had wandered to the edge of the clearing and stood munching grass, uninterested. Aiden unpinned the plaid that hung over his shoulder and swung it onto the ground as a picnic blanket. The now-familiar shimmer passed through me and a basket of food miraculously appeared on his cloak. He’d cast a scrumptious collection of bread, cheese, salami and fruit. I sat down on the blanket and nibbled at the food, trying to still my racing pulse.

  “So you said you stayed here for three years with your uncle when you were younger,” I asked. “What was that like?”

  “Alex Fraser was married to my mam’s sister, and when I turned fourteen, they took me under their wing to get proper training. The Frasers were quite wealthy, not only providing horses for the royal court, but also shipping in silk from China. Besides the château, Uncle Alex also had an office in Paris. He took me with him a couple of times, but mostly I stayed here in Versailles.” He broke off a piece of the baguette.

  “What were they like, your aunt and uncle?”

  He pulled a small knife from his knee-high sock and sliced off a chunk of cheese. “Well, they were a fair bit older than my parents. Aunt Margaret was a right pistol and kept the house in order like the captain of an army. Nothing slipped by her and she had a nasty temper if you crossed her. Which, mind you, never happened more than once.” He waggled his eyebrows and I laughed. “But she was also very funny, with a quick wit and a dry sense of humor.

  “Uncle Alex was a practical man with a keen mind for business. He was highly esteemed in the royal court and wanted to pass on his legacy but with no children of his own, he’d only us MacRae lads to hope for. It was hard at first because he insisted we only speak French and I didn’t know a word of it before I came. He spoke fluent Gaelic and English, so that wasn’t the issue. He just wanted me to know French and that was the fastest way to learn. I couldn’t even find the privy on the first day!”

  He laughed heartily at the memory. “Luckily, a servant took pity on me and showed me the way. I used a great deal of body language in the beginning to communicate, but it didn’t take long before I could understand conversations. I had tutors who taught me to read and write as well, and I was fully fluent by the end of the first year. I guess Uncle Alex knew what he was doing, aye?”

  I found myself jealous of his intense language training but pushed the thought aside. “Wow, fluent after just one year? That’s amazing. I took French in school for four years and I wouldn’t consider myself anywhere close to fluent.”

  His eyebrows went up in surprise. “C’est vrai? Je peux peut-être t’apprendre le français moi-même.”

  “Oui, s’il vous plaît!” I nodded, proud to have understood his offer. “But I don’t think I’d want you to teach me by only speaking French until I caught on. I mean, what if I had to use the 'privy?'” I reached over and poked him in the ribs.

  “Hey!” He caught me by the wrists and made a big show of defending himself. In our teasing, he ended up pulling me forward until I was nearly sitting in his lap. The heat of his body warmed me through my light pink blouse. I opened my mouth but promptly forgot what I was going to say, I was so distracted by the closeness of his lips. He cleared his throat and I straightened so that I wasn’t all over him anymore. An invisible spot on my thumbnail became suddenly fascinating as I worked to avoid his gaze.

  “No, actually,” he continued. “You’ll never need to use the privy here.” I glanced up, surprised.

  “What? Why not?” It was true, as I thought about it. I’d been here for—how long?—and hadn’t once had the urge to go to the bathroom.

  “Well, I think it’s because we cast all the food ourselves, so it’s not really there. You don’t actually have to eat at all. We just do it because we enjoy it, not because we need to.”

  “But when I woke up this morning, you offered me breakfast and I was starved. How could I have been hungry if my body didn’t need it?”

  He shook his head and tsk’d at me like I was a student who’d gotten the answer wrong.

  “I’ll bet that you only felt hungry after I asked you about breakfast or once you’d seen the tray. Am I right?” he asked. I thought about it and nodded, confused. “Your mind responded to the suggestion of food or the sight of it, if you saw the tray before I mentioned it,” he explained. “In truth, I can’t say we have bodies here at all, not in the earthly sense anyway.”

  My gaze swept from his face over the flat expanse of his chest and a rebellious thought took hold. With a smirk, I reached out and trailed a finger down the length of his bicep and peeked up at him through my eyelashes.

  “So this… isn’t real?” I asked.

  “I’m warning you, lass. You shouldn’t tempt me,” he said, though his voice was unsteady.

  “What do you mean?” I teased. “If it’s not real, what difference does it make? Does it even count as touching after all?” I dragged my finger across his chest and flicked my lip with my tongue, enjoying the look of indecision on his face.

  “God help me,” he whispered. Then he snaked a hand behind my neck and pulled me toward him, covering my mouth with his own. His kiss was everything I wanted it to be: hot, exciting and sensual, sending off a rampage of tingles down my spine. His other arm rested on my hip as we kissed, radiating waves of heat across my stomach. I tried to press closer to him and he let himself fall backward, pulling me on top of him as he went.

  His fingers wound through my hair as the kiss deepened. My heart was pounding so hard, I was sure it was going to explode.

  “Ah, ma minette. You slay me,” he groaned. His lips met mine again, but this time they were different, his kisses tender and soft. He pulled away and gazed at me in adoration, his hand cupping my cheek. “Tu es très belle, Lindsey.” He blew out his breath and shook his head, then pulled me down onto the blanket beside him.

  Tucked in the crook of his arm, I ran my fingers over his chest and marveled at how badly I wanted to keep going. I'd kissed a few guys before, but nothing even came close to this. I hadn’t ever gone all the way, but it felt so right with Aiden that I didn't want to stop. Everything in me ach
ed to be closer to him.

  His breathing evened out and I slowed mine to match, trying to reign in my lustful thoughts. Curled up against him, I closed my eyes and inhaled his clean, woodsy scent, feeling as if I’d finally found where I belonged.

  As I lay there with my eyes closed, a warm light washed over me, as enticing as the scent of freshly baked bread. It beckoned to me and the compulsion to follow was overwhelming. Joy flooded through me as I began to move toward it. Aiden’s voice called to me from far away.

  “Lindsey! Oh, don’t leave yet, lass. Stay with me a little while longer,” he pleaded. I wanted so badly to follow the light but I turned and fought my way back to him. The sensation ebbed away and I found myself standing, gripped tight in Aiden’s arms. I stared at him, confused and afraid.

  “What was that? I almost went after it, but then I heard your voice.”

  His arms relaxed but he didn’t let go. “It's heaven calling you. I told you that you cannot stay here forever. You must go on, but I didn’t want to lose you… not yet.” His face was etched with a sadness that made my heart ache. I threw my arms around his neck and hugged him close.

  “I don’t want to go. I want to stay here with you.” I searched his face for answers. “Why can’t you come to heaven with me? I don’t understand!”

  He hung his head and sighed with the weight of a condemned man. When he looked up again, his face was closed off, his jaw set in a hard line.

  “I’ve never shown this to anyone,” he began, his voice barely audible. “But you deserve the truth, Lindsey. You just may not want to stay once you’ve seen it.”

  Chapter 6

  “You remember how I told you that my family, the MacRaes and the MacKenzies owned the castle and all the land around it?” I nodded and he went on, resigned but determined. “It was the month of May in the year of our Lord 1719 and I’d just had my twentieth birthday. I lived at the castle with my mam, my older brother Duncan, my younger brother Willie and many other relatives. The Clan MacRae had guarded the castle for generations, keeping her safe from warring clans who might try to overpower her. Strength and power ran in our blood, and we were warriors when we needed to be, to protect our lands and the castle.”

  As he spoke, the pasture around us melted away and then we were standing in a banquet hall. The early morning light streamed through vertical slits into the stone walled room, which was filled to bursting with heavily armed men in kilts. The air was thick with the scent of sweaty, unwashed bodies, soot, smoked meat and ale. I covered my face with my hand in a convulsive attempt to block out the stench.

  A long dining table ran the length of the space, and a majestic fireplace spread its warmth throughout the room. Half empty steins of whisky and beer littered the table, though it was barely dawn. The men were packed in around the table, a few of them seated and eating, but most of them standing and talking, waiting for something. The atmosphere hummed with the men’s hostility and excitement.

  The leader of the group addressed them from an upstairs pulpit overlooking the great room. “My brothers in arms!” He held out his hand and a hush fell over the hall. “Fàilte! Welcome, friends. I, William MacKenzie, Earl of Seaforth, have asked you here today to defend this castle and this country. The Spanish fleet that was to be joining us hit stormy weather and had to port in England. Now the bloody Sassenachs know we mean to march on Inverness and they’ve sent three warships to try and stop us.”

  The crowd began to murmur in agitation at his statement.

  “They are powerful, with more men than we have here, and with many a cannon. If you stay and fight, some of you in this room will die today.” He waited, watching with narrowed eyes as this statement rippled through the crowd. The men turned to each other in mumbled displeasure, shifting uneasily back and forth. The Earl’s booming voice called them back.

  “Men! Let me remind you that our rightful king has been dethroned and the redcoats’ King George”—he said the name with disgust and spat on the ground—“seeks to take away our freedom and impose his rule on our land, this land that our fathers have passed down to us. They have raped our women and tried to make us English slaves, and they hang those who won’t pledge allegiance to the traitor king!”

  The men responded with roars of indignation, several pulling out their weapons and emitting war cries. The Earl’s speech gained momentum with their fury.

  “Will we let them? Will we let our brothers’ deaths go unavenged? Will we bow down and let the bloody redcoats steal our land because we were afraid to fight?”

  The crowd was boiling now, men waving their weapons and shouting with barely-contained blood lust.

  “No! We are Highlanders and we will fight for our freedom!” Cheers of agreement rose up from the men, some clasping arms or pounding their neighbor on the back.

  The Earl held out a hand to silence the crowd. “If you’re with me, friends, come forward.”

  Men from each clan stepped forward one by one, calling out their allegiance.

  “The MacKenzies of Glen Shiel are here! The MacRaes of Kintail are here! The Frasers of Lovat are here!” The list went on and on, including the Spaniards who had come to join the fight. Once the last man had declared his loyalty, the Earl bowed his head for a prayer and the men followed suit.

  “Blessed Saint Michael, be with us this day. Let your light shine upon us and deliver our enemies into our hands. In the holy name of our savior, Jesus Christ, amen.” He raised his head and scanned the room, making eye contact with a specific handful of men. “Lairds, prepare your men to your posts. The battle is on! Tulloch Ard!” The leaders of each clan took their men off to receive their assigned posts. The Earl descended the stairs and addressed his own group. He barked orders, all pomp and circumstance gone from his speech now.

  I saw Aiden in the back of the line, waiting to come forward and receive his assignment. He was as riled up as the rest of them, standing tall with his chest puffed out, eyes wild with excitement and ferocity. His older brother Duncan received his orders to man the bridge, nodded sharply to the Earl and strode out of the room. Aiden stepped forward to receive his station and the Earl paused. He looked Aiden up and down, considering.

  “Aiden MacRae, you will take Señor Delgado,” he gestured with his head to a pale, thin man with stringy black hair who was standing against the wall, “and guard the entrance to the cellar.”

  Aiden’s face fell and he shook his head in pleading protest. “But Uncle, I am ready. I can do more than guard the door! I am a man now and I want to fight! I…”

  The Earl backhanded him hard across the face and all conversations in the room stopped. Aiden turned to look at his uncle, his face unreadable. The Earl said, “A man knows when to speak and when to be silent. I have given you your post. Go.”

  Aiden turned on one heel and stormed out. Señor Delgado scrambled wordlessly after him. He didn’t slow his pace for the Spaniard to catch up, but threw a venomous glare at the direction of the bridge where his brother had gone. He swore and spat on the ground as he made his way to the rear of the castle and down the stone steps to the cellar.

  The entrance to the cellar was a heavy wooden door with a metal handle. Aiden strode back and forth, muttering under his breath in a language I didn’t understand. The Spaniard clearly didn’t understand it either and sat on the wooden chair next to the door, waiting for him to calm down. Finally, his anger dissipated enough for Delgado to risk conversation. His accent was thick, but it was obvious he was going to great pains not to upset Aiden further.

  “Excuse me, sir, but what is in this cellar that is so important it takes two grown men to guard it?”

  Aiden’s glare made it clear he thought this a stupid question. “The gunpowder,” he barked and resumed his pacing.

  Delgado’s eyes flittered around the small space and he shifted his weight in the chair. “Surely it can’t be that much, can it?” he asked.

  Affronted, he retorted with pride, “Aye, we’ve collected 343 ba
rrels of powder and 52 barrels of musket shot for our march on Inverness. Those bloody lobsterbacks will get what is coming to them!” Delgado’s eyes grew wide and Aiden went on, boasting. “We’ve another stash in the kirk down the hill so we can hit them from both sides.” Convinced that he’d impressed the Spaniard enough, he went back to pacing.

  The battle had begun outside and faint cries wafted down the staircase. Occasionally, the walls and ground would shake as a cannon ball struck the outside of the stone walled castle. Delgado fidgeted nervously, not speaking, and Aiden paid him no attention, lost in his own thoughts.

  Another shot rattled the enclosure. The Spaniard leapt to his feet. “I must relieve myself.”

  Aiden waved his hand absentmindedly. “The privy’s out behind the stable.”

  Delgado looked ready to flee, but turned and asked, “Will you be all right while I am gone?”

  “I think I can bloody well manage to guard the door while you take a piss!”

  Delgado streaked up the stairs and out of sight without another word. Time seemed to crawl by as Aiden paced, then sat, then kicked the cellar door, all the while muttering to himself. The sounds of battle and firing cannon from outside seemed to agitate him further. We heard light footsteps approaching on the stairs and he sprang into action, sword at the ready. His eyes danced with fury and anticipation as he prepared to finally meet the enemy. With his back pressed against the wall, he listened, waiting for the moment the English soldier would come into the clear.

  He caught movement out of the corner of his eye and lunged forward with a cry, “Sgurr Uaran!” A split second before his sword came down, he stopped and jumped back.

  A thin, red-haired boy screamed. “It’s me, Willie!”

  Aiden’s face went white as a sheet. “What in the name of God are you doing down here? You’re supposed to be with Mam! I could have killed you just now, ye wee fool!”