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

by Bess McBride

  James appeared to be asleep, and I crossed the room to gaze down at him. The pills were safely stored on his bedside table, and he knew when to take them.

  My knees weakened as I gently caressed his cheek. His skin was cool and clammy. He had done too much once again by going downstairs to confront the captain.

  I drew in a ragged breath and stared at the handsome Highlander. I would miss the sparkle in his teal-blue eyes, the generous smile I’d seen so much of before he fell ill, his delightful sense of humor. I didn’t think I would ever meet anyone like James Livingstone again. No, of course I wouldn’t, not in the twenty-first century.

  I bent down and pressed my lips against his forehead. A single hot tear splashed on his forehead, and I straightened quickly and turned.

  I gave Robbie one last pat and fled from the room. Back in my own bedroom, I repacked Beth’s clothes into the wooden case.

  Bracken was nowhere to be seen, and I had no idea how to find paper and pen to write a note. I couldn’t just disappear though. That would be unkind, cruel.

  I eyed the case with a sigh. Bracken had carried it up. Surely I could carry it back down. I thought it was more bulky than heavy.

  I was rapidly coming to the conclusion that I didn’t really want to encounter Bracken on my way out. I didn’t want to tell him I was leaving right away, didn’t want to answer any questions. He might insist on waking James, and now that I was on my way, I didn’t want to tell James good-bye in person either.

  I tugged on the case and pulled it down the hallway and down the stairs, bumping along each step. How the noise didn’t bring the ever-alert butler, I didn’t know. Maybe he had passed out from the exhaustion of caring for James, for the house.

  I dragged the case across the courtyard and pulled it through the door. Standing on the top step of the stairs, I waved at Duncan, motioning him to come get the case.

  He crossed the beach and came up the steps to pick up the case.

  “Thank you, Duncan. I have to leave in a hurry, and I need your help with several things,” I said breathlessly, whether from my now covert departure or exertion, I didn’t know.

  “Aye, mistress?” he asked over his shoulder as he descended the stairs, case in hand.

  “I couldn’t find any paper or pen in the castle, and I need to leave in a hurry. Could you tell Bracken that I have returned home? Just that. That I have returned home. He can pass that on to his lairdship.

  “Next, could you have this case returned to Lady Anderson at Gleannhaven Castle for me?”

  Duncan nodded. We had reached the boat by now, and he set the case inside and helped me climb in.

  “Ye are returning home, and I am to carry this case to Gleannhaven Castle,” he repeated.

  “Yes, thank you. And third, could you figure out how I could get to the Gleannhaven estate? I don’t need to go to the castle, just the estate.”

  “His lairdship’s wagon be over there, mistress.” He nodded toward his cabin. “The tides, ye ken. I can take ye in the wagon.”

  I heaved a sigh of relief.

  “Oh, thank you. Are you ready?”

  He nodded assent and rowed me across the small stretch of water to the opposite shore. He suggested I have a seat on a rickety bench in front of his cabin while he attended to the wagon. He called his son, who came running out from the cabin, and together they disappeared around the back. I heard the jingle of livery.

  With a racing heart, I stared at the castle across the lake, wishing they would hurry. I wanted to be gone before James woke up or before Bracken noticed I was gone and told James. I berated myself for running, for lacking the courage and fortitude to say a proper good-bye, especially to people who had helped me so much. James. Even Bracken.

  I was ungrateful, cowardly, weak and pathetic. I sighed deeply, quite possibly releasing all the air in my body in that one breath. I was also exhausted.

  Duncan and his son brought the wagon around, and Duncan helped me climb aboard. His son jumped into the bed of the wagon. As we rolled away from the lake, from Lochloon Castle, I avoided taking a last look over my shoulder. I swallowed repeatedly to keep my throat from closing over. Hot tears burned my eyes, and I turned away from Duncan to wipe at my face.

  I only hoped that James would forgive me for leaving so suddenly, that he would understand how difficult it would have been to say good-bye. Of course, without a note to say so, how could he know?

  “Duncan,” I began.

  “Aye, mistress?”

  “Don’t forget to tell Bracken that I returned home. Tell him also, and the laird if he asks, that I am so sorry to leave without a word.”

  Duncan nodded, keeping his eyes on the road.

  “Remember, Duncan. Tell them I’m so sorry to leave without a word.” My voice broke, and I cleared my throat.

  “Ye are sorry. I ken yer words, mistress.”

  “Yes, so sorry.”

  The return trip to the river on Colin’s land took about an hour and a half, and we approached it midafternoon.

  “There.” I pointed to the particular spot on the river where the time travel had occurred. “Just drop me off there.”

  “Drop ye off, mistress? Right here? There is naeithin here.” Duncan asked. He slowed the horses and came to a stop.

  “Yes, right here. Then you can go on to Gleannhaven and drop the case off. Would that be all right? I know it’s a lot to ask. Maybe they could let you and your son spend the night.”

  “Where my boy and I lay our heads tonight isna the problem, mistress. I canna drop ye off here alone. It will grow dark in a few hours.”

  “I’ll be all right, Duncan. I know what I’m doing.” I thought quickly. “Someone will come to get me soon.”

  “Och! That’s all right then. I kent ye meant I should just abandon ye here on the road by the river. The laird would have my head for such.”

  “No, no, of course. Yes, someone is coming to get me.” I would have checked my watch for effect if I had one, but I didn’t. Who knew Duncan, the boatman, would fuss so much?

  Duncan stepped down and helped me from the wagon.

  “We can wait here till someone comes for ye,” he said.

  I shook my head. He’d have a long wait, and what I needed to do should not have a witness. My anxiety mounted, and I responded a little testier than I should have.

  “No, thank you, Duncan. Please leave. I’ll be fine.”

  Duncan cocked his head and then turned away from me and climbed back into the wagon.

  “Aye, mistress. Good day to ye then,” he said with a nod as he urged the horses forward. His son climbed into the buckboard that I had vacated. I moved to stand by the riverbank, waiting for the wagon to travel far enough away so that neither Duncan nor his son could see me clearly.

  Then I knelt by the river. In doing so, I nearly tripped over my skirts, and I cursed. I wished I’d had my jeans with me so I could shuck the historical dress and show up in modern-day Scotland without attracting attention. But Beth hadn’t sent those to me, and I supposed they were still packed away at Gleannhaven Castle.

  I realized I was focusing on minutiae, anything to keep from thinking about James and leaving him behind. I knew I wouldn’t return. The eighteenth century was not for me. There was disease and pestilence and death and sorrow and war, not to mention witchcraft and superstition. I wasn’t cut out for the rigors of life in the seventeen hundreds. I simply wasn’t.

  “I’ll see you soon, Sam!” I whispered as I bent to scoop up a handful of the frigid water. As expected, the water tingled in my hands and on my cheeks. The world started spinning, and I grew dizzy and faint.

  Chapter Nineteen

  I awakened with a start to the sound of a high-pitched female voice.

  “Miss, are you all right?” the woman asked.

  I opened my eyes and tried to focus. The sun, low in the sky, told me that it was late afternoon. I pushed myself upright and looked at the woman, a hiker from the looks of her lightweig
ht cotton trousers, multi-pocketed all-weather jacket and sturdy boots. Her accent was Scottish.

  “Yes, I’m fine. Thank you. I must have fainted,” I said. “What time is it?”

  “About half past four,” she said, looking at her watch. Short gray hair framed her face. “Shall I call an ambulance for you?”

  I caught her staring at my dress, and I pulled the hem under me and rose with some difficulty. She reached for my arm and helped me up.

  “No, no. I’m fine, really.” I couldn’t even dream up an excuse for why I was standing around in a hooped historical gown, so I didn’t even try. I’d only given brief consideration to what I was going to do when I returned to the twenty-first century. I knew Julie would keep her word and leave my things at the hotel in Glasgow, but how to get there wasn’t something I had managed to work out in the few hours before I traveled through time.

  I could strike out for Gleannhaven Castle, I supposed. I could also have asked the lady for a ride, but I wasn’t sure where her car was parked, and I didn’t want to try to answer questions.

  “No, I’m absolutely fine. Just on my way to a fancy-dress party.”

  “On foot?” she asked. Light-blue eyes regarded me with surprise.

  “Yes. Thank you so much for stopping.”

  I smiled, turned away from her and headed down the trail in the direction of the stone bridge, which I could not see from this distance, but knew it was there. I felt the woman’s eyes boring into my back, and I turned and gave her a polite wave. She lifted her hand in response, and with a shake of her head, turned and continued on her hike along the river.

  I reached the bridge and crossed over it, grateful to leave the main hiking trail and possible encounters with other hikers. I didn’t know what I was going to do if Gordon wasn’t home, but at least I was back in the twenty-first century—land of telephones and credit cards and my cousin, whom I could contact and who could dispatch a taxi to pick me up.

  The path toward Gleannhaven was surprisingly overgrown considering that it was much wider in the eighteenth century. I guessed that no one used it much these days, certainly not for wagons. Gordon drove in and out of the estate on an asphalted road now. Given the thickness of the encroaching grasses against my wide skirts, the walk took me longer than I had imagined, and I entered the estate parklands as the sun started to dip behind the surrounding hills.

  I followed the path through the forest and emerged onto the parkland to see the castle. It looked much as it had in the eighteenth century. Soft lighting showed through several windows and from sconces outside the front entrance. Gordon’s sports car was parked in front of the door, and I snatched up my skirts and hurried toward the entrance.

  I trotted up the steps and pounded on the heavy wooden door. Within minutes, an elderly man in an unassuming dark-gray three-piece suit opened the door and eyed me with surprise. He looked beyond me to the driveway, probably looking for my car, before returning his gaze to me to study my clothing.

  “Is Laird Anderson here? Gordon Anderson?” I asked breathlessly.

  “May I ask who is calling, madam?” He wasn’t letting me in at the moment.

  “Please tell him it’s Maggie Scott.”

  “Very good, madam. Could you please wait here?”

  The butler, I assumed, closed the door in my face, albeit gently, and I waited on the top step. Three minutes later, the door was hauled open again, and Gordon reached out to pull me inside. The butler waited behind him, looking somewhat chastised.

  “Maggie! You’re back! I’m so sorry we left you standing outside like that. You must be exhausted. Percy, please get us some tea. We’ll take it in the library.”

  Gordon, dressed in well-worn jeans and a casual light-blue long-sleeved shirt, looked handsome, casual and relaxed. Given his resemblance to Colin, I realized how handsome Colin would be in modern clothing. I had no doubt that James would have looked just as handsome in a pair of blue jeans. I bit my lip and shook my head to rid myself of the thought of James.

  A black-and-white sheepdog ran up to Gordon’s side to investigate me. I shook my head in disbelief.

  “You have a sheepdog.”

  “Aye,” Gordon said. “My family have always done so.”

  He ushered me into a wonderfully cozy room filled with books. What stone walls were not covered with bookshelves were covered with faded tapestries and a few pastoral paintings. Lovely old carpets featuring a blue-and-red tartan covered the wooden floor. A fireplace, at present unlit, dominated one wall.

  “Please sit, Maggie,” Gordon said, guiding me to a dark-blue velvet sofa. “I see you are still dressed in traditional clothing, although I believe this dress is different. Have you just come from the eighteenth century?”

  I pressed my clammy hands against the dark-green fabric of my skirts and nodded.

  “I have. I’ve left,” I said in a fairly dramatic tone.

  Gordon seated himself in an antique brocade high-backed chair across from me. The dog sat down at his heels.

  At my words, Gordon quirked an eyebrow.

  “You’ve left?” he repeated, as if waiting for me to say more.

  I nodded. “Yes. James Livingstone is on the mend, and I’m ready to go home. I’m done.” Why couldn’t I seem to speak in less melodramatic tones?

  “You sound distraught, Maggie. Then the medication worked?”

  I nodded. “Yes, I believe he’s getting better. He’s weak, of course, but I think he’s recovering.”

  “And you decided it was time to leave?”

  I nodded. “Yes, that’s right.” I looked up from fidgeting with my skirts. “I didn’t know what to do when I got back here, so I came straight to you. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all, Maggie. How can I help? Do you need a place to stay?”

  I shook my head. “No, thank you. I think I need to head on down to Glasgow to the hotel where Julie and I were supposed to stay. My luggage, purse, money and passport are there. I’m going to try to book a flight home tomorrow, if I can.”

  Gordon’s smile drooped for an instant, but he recovered himself.

  “In such a hurry,” he said quietly. “Is all well? Did something happen? That is all in the past now, you know. Nothing can harm you here in the twenty-first century.”

  Unwilling to talk about the past, which seemed all too recent, too painfully raw, I studied Gordon for a moment.

  “You look so much like Colin,” I said with a gentle smile. “I saw him several more times. He picked me up when I returned, and he came to see me at Castle Lochloon to bring me some clothing. Such a good man.”

  Gordon beamed. “I’m so pleased. I would love to meet him in person.”

  “I told him about you and Beth. He was thrilled.”

  Gordon nodded. “But tell me why you look so sad, Maggie.”

  I put a hand to my face.

  “Do I? I don’t mean too. I’m very anxious to get home.”

  “To?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “You said you were anxious to get home. I asked to whom or what?”

  I bit my lip.

  “Familiarity, a sense of security, Sam.”

  “You did not mention a Sam when you were here. Is that someone special?”

  “Sam was my fiancé.”

  “Oh, yes, I’m sorry.” Gordon tilted his head when he looked at me, and I knew what his unasked question was.

  “I know he’s dead, Gordon. Believe me. I know he’s dead. But I miss him, and I’m terrified that if I stray too far, I’ll forget him.”

  Gordon looked at me with sympathy.

  “Such a heavy sigh, my dear. What do you mean by stray too far? Have you fallen in love with James Livingstone?”

  I drew in a sharp breath and looked at Gordon, surprised at his frankness.

  “Fallen in love?” I squeaked. “With a man from the eighteenth century? Oh, no!” I dropped my eyes from Gordon’s unconvinced expression. “I mean, I care for him. I r
eally do. A great deal. But in love?” I shook my head. “No, I don’t think so. How can I be? What about Sam? He only passed away six months ago!”

  Gordon was prevented from replying, thank goodness, by a soft knock on the door and the arrival of the butler with a tray of tea and small sandwiches.

  “Thank you, Percy. We’ll serve ourselves,” Gordon said. The butler nodded and left, and Gordon reached for the teapot to pour out some hot water into several sturdy-looking mugs.

  “I’m not partial to the delicate china. It’s safely stored away for another generation. I hope you don’t mind.”

  I gave Gordon a half smile and shook my head.

  “Not at all.”

  Gordon handed me a mug of tea and a plate of several small sandwiches. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was until I bit into one.

  “Now, where were we?” he said, settling back into his chair. “Ah, yes. You were fretting about your fiancé, suggesting that you feel falling in love within six months of his death is a betrayal.”

  I choked on my sandwich and set it down.

  “Yes, something like that,” I said, feeling somewhat foolish. I wasn’t wrong though, was I? I needed more ammunition.

  “Do you have any idea how harsh life is in the seventeen hundreds, Gordon? The deprivation? The cold? Disease, death? Not to mention superstition.”

  Gordon shook his head. “I can only imagine. I do live in a cold castle, so I know about cold. But no, I truly have no idea. Is that the real reason you wish to return home?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know. I really don’t. I just know that I have to go home. Once I’m there, I can think again. I can put Scotland, the eighteenth century and James Livingstone behind me.”

  “And my ancestors, Colin and Beth. And me.”

  “Oh, no! Not you, Gordon. I’ll be forever in your debt for all you’ve done for me. And no, I don’t want to forget Colin or Beth. I didn’t tell them I was leaving,” I said in a mournful tone.

  “I imagine Beth may have taken that hard.”

  I nodded, guilt washing over me.

  “I didn’t tell James either. I just ran away. I asked someone to tell them for me, but I didn’t say good-bye in person. I was afraid if I took too much time to say good-bye, if I waited until I could say farewell to everyone in person, that I wouldn’t leave.”