My Laird's Love (My Laird's Castle Book 2)

by Bess McBride

  “The English still patrol the Highlands just to make sure there are no more rebellions—which, of course, you and I know there won’t be—but things are calmer now than they were. Thank goodness. You’re fortunate you didn’t travel back to a time just before or during Culloden. I’m fortunate that I didn’t. It must have been awful!”

  “Was your husband at the battle?” I asked.

  Beth shook her head.

  “No, he was in England, in school, at the time. His father fought with the English against the Jacobite cause, so that’s how they kept their home, but the family is none too popular with the Jacobites.” Beth shook her head with a grimace.

  “What about James?” I asked. “Did he fight at Culloden?”

  Beth quirked an eyebrow and nodded. “He did, but it’s not something he readily talks about. Colin probably knows his story. Or maybe James will tell you himself.”

  I couldn’t banish the image of James marching across Culloden Moor with a broadsword, his dying clansmen falling around him.

  “Oh, I’m sure he wouldn’t tell me if he won’t talk about it,” I said.

  Beth’s lips lifted in a half smile.

  “He might.”

  I set the half-eaten bowl of soup down on the tray.

  “No,” I said firmly.

  Beth gave me an innocent look.

  “No?”

  “I know what you’re thinking, Beth. I didn’t travel through time to find the love of my life. That sort of thing wouldn’t happen to me.”

  “It happened to me,” she said with a grin.

  Perhaps it was time I disclosed.

  “No, I’ve had the love of my life already. He died.”

  Beth covered my hand with her own.

  “Oh, Maggie! I’m so sorry!”

  She waited expectantly. I bit my lip. I didn’t want to talk about it. I never talked about it. It hurt too deeply.

  And then I opened my mouth.

  “His name was Sam. He died of cancer about six months ago. We were engaged. In fact, he died two days before our wedding. I nursed him the entire time he was ill. We knew he was dying, the doctors had said so, but we still wanted to marry. We just ran out of time.”

  Beth tsked but said nothing. Thankfully. I was fighting back tears. At some point in my life, the tears would end. But apparently not yet.

  “We’d been together since high school and both worked in software development at the same computer company. We’ve been together forever.” I gritted my teeth and took a quick swipe at my eyes, hoping Beth wouldn’t see.

  “So you see, I didn’t come here for James. Does not apply to me,” I said with a bitter twist to my lips. “I’m still in love with Sam. I always will be. And I need to go home to be where he was, where he is.”

  I couldn’t explain my immediate attraction to James, and I didn’t want to. It felt disloyal to Sam, and the allure made me feel guilty.

  Beth nodded.

  “Get some sleep. We’ll talk about it in the morning. Everything is better when the sun comes up.”

  I nodded tiredly as she rose from the chair.

  “Let me go get you something to sleep in,” she said. She left the room, and I turned to stare at the fire, trying to dispel memories of Sam.

  Beth returned in a jiff and draped a white linen gown over the end of the bed. She picked up the tray.

  “I think that will fit you fine. Good night, Maggie.”

  “Good night, Beth.”

  The door closed behind her, and I climbed out of bed and shed my jeans, long-sleeved blouse and undergarments to slip into the soft linen shift. I climbed back into the four-poster bed and buried myself under the thick covers, wondering what strange twist of fate had thrown me into the eighteenth century.

  The flickering flames of the fire mesmerized me, and I watched it, trying to ease the pain in my throat as my thoughts turned to Sam again. I missed him terribly. How I wished he were here with me now. He might have enjoyed the adventure. I had gone to visit him at the cemetery the day before I left for Scotland, but I’d only chatted with him. I hadn’t said good-bye. I could not be this far from him, not in both distance and time. I had to return. I just had to.

  Chapter Five

  A tap on the door awakened me, and I bolted upright in bed, confused by my surroundings.

  “Come in,” I called out, throwing a wide-eyed look at the olive-green velvet coverings hanging from the four-poster bed. I pulled the thick gray blanket up to my neck.

  Beth slipped in the door, carrying some things in her arms, which she laid across the foot of the bed.

  “Good morning,” she said, moving to pull aside the matching velvet curtains at the windows. “I’ve brought you some things to try on.” She moved over to the fireplace and bent to toss some logs onto it, stoking it into a fire.

  I rubbed my eyes, which felt swollen.

  “Things?” I scanned the pile of material at the end of the bed. “You mean clothes?”

  Beth returned to the bed to sort through the clothing.

  “Yes, you can’t run around in your jeans. I couldn’t, and you can’t. The servants think I’m eccentric, but even I can’t get away with wearing jeans.”

  Indeed, this morning she wore a lavender embroidered woven bodice over a charcoal-gray hooped skirt. A cap of dainty lace adorned her head, giving her an adorable look, as her auburn curls peeped out.

  She caught my eye and raised a hand to the cap, a sheepish smile on her face.

  “When in Rome,” she murmured.

  “But if I’m leaving this morning, I should probably just go ahead and wear my jeans,” I protested. Not that Beth wasn’t just beautiful in the historical costume that suited her perfectly. Somehow, I didn’t think the clothing would look as good on me. My figure was a bit fuller than Beth’s. I had no waist to speak of, and I barely hovered above the floor at five feet nothing.

  “It will cause a lot less drama and gossip if you travel back in a gown than if you trot around the house now in your jeans.”

  I sighed, but probably only for form’s sake. I was actually intrigued by Beth’s historical clothing.

  “I’m going to look ridiculous in a dress like yours,” I said. “I don’t have your figure. I’m sure James will laugh.”

  Beth, still sorting through the garments at the end of the bed, paused and looked up.

  “James? Why would he laugh? This is the only sort of clothing he understands. Didn’t you see him trying to avoid looking at your legs last night?”

  I thought back.

  “No, I didn’t notice,” I said with a shake of my head. “I did see your husband and George blink a couple of times.”

  “Well, George is old-fashioned. He saw me show up in jeans, but Mrs. Agnew got me out of those pretty quickly. I think he’s over the shock now though. And I’m sure Colin knew exactly where you’d come from when he saw you.”

  My cheeks flamed. Had I embarrassed James?

  “I didn’t realize James had avoided looking at me.”

  “Oh, no. He looked at you, all right, quite intently—your gorgeous brunette hair, your brown eyes, that flawless skin. But not your legs. It’s hard for them. They’re just not used to seeing a woman’s lower limbs.”

  I blushed at her compliment, and nodded understanding.

  “Anyway, you won’t see James again after today, right?” Beth dropped her eyes to the pile of clothing again and pulled out a few things in white.

  My throat tightened unexpectedly.

  “No, that’s right. He’s been kind, that’s all.”

  “Yes, he’s a kind man, very gentle. Loves his bagpipe.”

  I climbed out of bed.

  “I love the sound of bagpipe music,” I said reverently. “Love it.”

  “Well then, you met the right man.” Beth handed me what I recognized as a shift, a chemise. “Here, put this on,” she said. “You can wear your panties if you want. I did for a while, until mine wore out. Now, it’s drawers for
me.” She grinned.

  I hesitated. “Ummmm...where is the bathroom?”

  “Uh-oh,” Beth said, her smile turning rueful. “You’re not going to like this. There’s a chamber pot under the bed. I’ll step out while you use it.”

  I opened my mouth to protest as she moved to the door.

  “Believe me—I know what you’re going to say,” Beth said over her shoulder, “but if you need to use the bathroom, that’s what’s available. I struggled with it myself. Still can’t get used to it. Mary should be here any minute with some hot water so you can wash up.”

  I didn’t know who Mary was, but I stared at the now closed door before bending down to look under the bed. Yes indeed, there was a white porcelain pot. How on earth I was going to manage to squat and hover over it, I could not imagine.

  Somehow I managed, and with the deed done, I jumped up and away from the pot and pushed the thing back under the bed. In desperate need of a good handwashing, I pulled open the door.

  Beth waited on the other side, another young girl at her side, holding a porcelain jug of steaming water.

  “You survived,” Beth said. As the maid entered and turned her back to us, Beth put a finger to her lips, directed at me. “Mary has brought you some hot water to wash with.”

  Mary, a tall, lanky girl of about sixteen with dark hair peeping out from under her mobcap, moved toward an oak bureau and poured some of the hot water into a wide bowl before setting it down. She curtsied and left.

  “Go ahead and wash up,” Beth said. “You’ll feel better. There’s lavender soap, which smells pretty wonderful, and some nice linen towels. I’m sure you would love to have a shower, but that won’t be possible. Mary has to haul hot water up from the kitchen for bathing and haul the cold water away again. It’s a big chore. Besides, you can probably have a shower when you get home, if things go okay.”

  Beth moved over to the window and turned her back to me discreetly.

  I smiled faintly. “That’s okay,” I said. I washed my hands and rinsed my face. Beth was right. The soap, while a bit grainy in texture, smelled wonderful. I dried my face and hands and turned back.

  “Done!” I said. Beth turned around.

  “You can change behind that screen if you want,” Beth said briskly. I turned to see a lovely oak-framed screen near a dressing table of the same wood. Silk embroidered in a flowered pattern with emerald-green and red thread constituted the main portion of the screen.

  “Oh! Thank you,” I said. I moved to stand behind it. “Can you hand me whatever you think I need to wear?” I shed the nightgown, thankful the fire was at my back in the chilly room. For now, I kept my panties on. They would have to last me through another day.

  Instantly, a silk chemise appeared around the corner, and I grabbed it and slipped it over my head. I looked up to see some sort of garter belt and white silk stockings dangling at the end of Beth’s hand.

  “No pantyhose?” I chuckled as I lowered myself to the floor and wrestled with the stockings. “Not that I’ve worn them in years.”

  “No chance,” Beth said. “What are you doing back there? Are you sitting on the floor?”

  “Well, it was either that or hop around on one foot trying to get these things on.”

  Beth laughed. “Oh, come on out. You’ve got enough clothes on now, don’t you?”

  I cinched the second stocking as she spoke and came out from behind the screen.

  “So much silk,” I murmured, running a hand down the length of the chemise.

  “It seems that I’m allergic to wool, so most of my clothes are made of silk, linen, muslin or velvet. Colin ordered a bunch of gowns for me from Edinburgh and France.”

  Beth handed me a large garment that looked like a hoop. I eyed the fearsome thing.

  “No way,” I said.

  “Yes way,” Beth said with a grin. “It’s a pannier. It’s not painful, but it goes under the petticoat and skirt. Here, like this.” She had me step inside the frame, and she wrapped it around my waist, tying it in the back.

  “So this is a pannier,” I murmured. “I wondered what one was.”

  Beth then handed me a white linen petticoat that went over my head to settle above the pannier.

  “And here is the skirt.” Like the petticoat, the cobalt-blue silk skirt slipped over my head and floated above the petticoat.

  “This is beautiful,” I breathed.

  “It is, isn’t it?” Beth said, obviously pleased. “We’re almost done. Here’s the bodice. It’s sort of a combination bodice and corset. I hate corsets, so I’ve had these made especially for me. I hope you’ll be comfortable.”

  She handed me a blue-gray silk jacket embroidered with silver thread. I slipped it over my shoulders, and she pulled it tightly across my chest to lace the front.

  I sucked in my breath and held it.

  “Too tight?” she asked with an expression of sympathy.

  I looked down as she stood back to survey her handiwork.

  “No, actually. I didn’t even know I could have a waist.”

  Beth nodded. “These clothes will do that to you.” She pulled a length of ribbon out of a pocket in her skirt and moved to stand behind me. “Here! Let me pull your hair up.”

  I waited patiently while she arranged my hair somewhere up on the crown of my head. She gave it a final pat, then spoke.

  “Shoes. I think we might be the same size, as it happens.”

  I looked down at her dainty feet now encased in some sort of black shoe partially hidden by her voluminous skirts.

  “Oh, I doubt that,” I said.

  “No, I’m sure they’ll fit. Here, sit down. You won’t be able to find them under the width of the pannier. I’ll put them on for you.” I perched on the edge of the bed, and Beth bent to slip the shoes onto my feet. She was right. They did fit.

  “Good! I’m starved,” Beth said. “How about breakfast?”

  I nodded. “Sounds good. Then I think I really need to get back down to the river...you know...to go home.”

  I stood upright and floated away from the bed. There was no other way to describe moving under the wide hoops.

  A tap on the door caught our attention, and Beth called out.

  “Come in.”

  There was a hesitation at the door, and Beth cocked her head and repeated the words.

  “Come in!”

  The door opened slowly, and James stood in the doorway, a sheepish expression on his face. The reason for his expression soon became clear.

  “James!” Beth said in a scolding voice. “What are you doing here?”

  He hung his head, his cheeks bright with color. His dog, Robbie, panted at his side, smiling widely.

  “I...that is...I didna ken ye were within, Beth. I sought only to escort Mistress Scott to breakfast...with the thought that she might get lost in the castle.”

  Beth threw me a quick look, and my cheeks flamed as I looked down at my skirts, smoothing them nervously. James’ opinion of my appearance mattered to me a great deal, though I wasn’t sure why. I didn’t want his opinion to matter so much.

  “Well, that was nice of you, James,” Beth said in a more conciliatory note. “I came to help her get dressed. What do you think?”

  I swallowed hard as Beth put James on the spot, and I glanced up to meet his eyes.

  In their blue depths, I recognized admiration, and my knees weakened.

  “Ye look fair bonnie, Mistress Scott,” he said. “The color of yer dress matches yer eyes.”

  I caught my breath and held it for a heart-pounding moment.

  “Yes, it does, doesn’t it?” Beth said in a practical note. I felt my arm grabbed, and she pulled me through the door. “Come on. Let’s go eat.”

  James, wearing the same clothes that he’d worn the day before, albeit looking no worse for wear, stood back and let us pass, then followed us down the hall and the stairs. I felt the skin burning on the back of my neck.

  Beth led us down a hall and into a l
arge room that resembled great rooms I’d seen in several castles that Julie and I had toured. A large stone fireplace centered one wall, and Colin awaited us at the head of a massive oak table with seating for at least forty people, if not more. Portraits and landscapes decorated the walls, lightening the somber effect of the gray stone.

  Robbie joined Colin’s dog underneath the table. Clearly, they were used to searching for scraps on the floor.

  “Good morning, Mistress Scott. Ye look verra well today. How did ye sleep?” Colin asked with a courtly bow. Beth led me to a chair held for me by George, the butler.

  I couldn’t help blushing like a teenager at the approving smile on Colin’s face. Apparently, these Scottish men liked their women in dresses.

  “Please call me Maggie,” I said. “I slept very well, thank you, Laird Anderson.”

  Beth, her husband and James seated themselves, Beth to my left at her husband’s right hand. That left me trying to avoid staring at James across the table.

  “Thank you, Maggie. And ye must call me Colin.”

  Grace and Mary started bringing in trays of food, supervised by George. My eyes rounded at the amount of food, and I threw a look in Beth’s direction.

  She laughed. “I know. I know! Too much food. Our cook, Mrs. Renwick, believes in big meals. I just have some toast and tea myself.”

  “That’s about all I can handle,” I said. George ensured that I had access to the toast rack, and poured hot water into my teacup from a lovely porcelain pitcher.

  “Thank you, George. We will serve ourselves,” Beth said. “Please shut the door behind you.” The elderly butler blinked but said nothing as he left the room in the wake of the girls.

  “Please tell me that ye have reconsidered this foolhardy attempt to travel through time again.”

  Colin, Beth and I all turned to stare at James at once, they as surprised as I at his forthright words. James stared at me intently.

  “I-I have to go back,” I mumbled. “I’m sure I’ll be all right. Thank you for worrying about me.”

  I hoped Beth would help me out and reassure him, but she remained silent, watching the interaction between us.