"They have lessened, almost gone. But, Alex..."
"I know, lass. It does not work for us. What do ye think we did wrong?"
"Right now, I can't think. I feel really sick, and my head is pounding. Can you take me back to our room?"
"Aye, lass. Ye look more than a bit peaked. Let me carry you." Before she could protest, he lifted her into his arms again and started back toward the castle itself.
"I didn't mean this way, Alex." If it had been brighter outside, he knew he would see her blush.
"I know, Maggie. Rest yer head against me and let me do this for ye. We will be back in our room in but a few minutes." She nestled her head into his shoulder and sighed deeply. She was exhausted and dozed off on the way back.
Maggie never woke as he took off her skirt and bodice, shoes and stockings. He untied and loosened her hair and pulled the covers over her sleeping form.
He was too awake to get into bed. He walked over to the window and stared out into the darkness. They had found the doorway home, but it didn't work for them. What had they done wrong? What had they missed? Why didn't it work?
Chapter 19
She waited in the shadows until they passed her by. They were so wrapped up in their confusion and disappointment they never noticed her standing nearby.
The arch drew her. Its powerful call had broken once more into her sleep and demanded her presence here, now. She walked over and placed her hand on the boulders. The heat grew stronger and spread into and through her body. The sacred stones, stolen and put in this wall, called to her.
As she had done before the fire, she closed her eyes and waited for the wisdom to come to her. It was quick in coming. Moira opened her eyes and saw images of the couple in a passionate embrace, bodies entwined.
"Ah, lovers first."
Pictures flashed before her eyes, scenes moving quickly, the man and woman together, working, arguing, bathing together. Anice, her eyes flashing anger and humiliation, appeared. Pain, dear God, the pain. Moira clutched at her back as the pain struck. Blood, death. No, almost death, but saved. This Alex soothing the hurts of the woman.
"Then love."
She drew in a breath and forced it out. The pain was not hers and was gone. The place beneath the curve cleared, and the stones grew cold. Moira lifted her hand and took a few steps away from the special arch.
"So, they know the door is here but havna found the key. How long, I wonder, until they know the true power that controls the archway?" she whispered. "And how will they make their way here until they find it?"
With a certainty that was rooted deep inside her being, Moira knew that it was her place to show them the way, her task to guide them to love and to their home.
Weel, she thought, I dearly hope I am up to the task.
Chapter 20
She couldn't open her eyes. Trying to force her lids to lift, Maggie raised her hand against the glare coming through the small window. The pounding pain returned as she tilted her head off the pillow.
"Arrggghh."
Laying her head back down slowly, she pushed the loose strands of hair out of her face and rolled to her side. Alex was gone. Sliding her hand along the surface of the bed, she knew by the coldness that he had left some time ago. Pushing up on her arms, Maggie forced her head upright and clenched her teeth against the throbbing spasm. The strength of it made her stomach roll and bile surge into her throat. Without a second to spare, Maggie slid off the bed and dove for the chamber pot. She was wiping her mouth when the door slammed open into the wall. Anice's Amazonian maid entered, again without notice or permission.
Firtha paused at the doorway and then swept in, carrying another pile of clothes. Casting her a look of pure revulsion, the maid traversed the room in three strides and placed the bundle on Alex's trunk. Turning quickly, she strode to the door to leave when she paused and pivoted back to Maggie. A new expression filled her face.
"What do you want, Firtha?"
"The day is half o'er, whore. Will ye do nothing more than spread yerself for him and lay about the rest of the time?"
"Firtha..." Maggie growled the maid's name in warning.
"Ye do not look good. This is more than the beating he gave ye and the bed sport he demands from ye." Firtha's glance fell on the nearby chamber pot. Her eyebrows raised and her eyes bulged. "Ye filthy slut! Are ye breeding his bastard?"
"Bastard?" Maggie looked at the maid and then realized what this must look like to Firtha: her illness, the chamber pot, the unmistakable odor of vomiting. "No, Firtha, I am not... with child."
"I do not believe ye. My lady willna be glad of this news."
Maggie jumped to her feet and grabbed at Firtha's wrist. It took all of her meager strength just to remain upright. "Firtha, don't make things worse by spreading lies to Anice. Alex will not be pleased if you start trouble."
"I serve my lady above all others, and she will decide what to do with this turn." Firtha shook free of her hold with little effort. "Yer mistake will be seen by all in a little time, whore. Then ye can tell me who is lying when the laird throws yer worthless body out of the keep and into the dirt where ye belong." The maid left the room without closing the door.
Maggie dragged herself over to the bed and collapsed on it, her legs still dangling over the side. Could this get any worse? What would Struan do when word of this got back to him? She closed her eyes and imagined she could hear Anice's screaming when her maid shared the news with her. Anice's temper tantrums were the gossip of the servants. The entire keep, the entire village would hear of this by the evening meal. Alex keeping his leman here was one thing, but if everyone thought she was pregnant with his child?
"Maggie?" A whispered voice floated in from the hallway.
"Rachelle?" As the woman stepped into view, Maggie motioned to her to enter. "Close the door."
"Are ye ill?" Rachelle's concern showed in her expression. "I havna seen ye since..."
"Since Alex dragged me up here and beat me?" She watched as the young woman drew her bottom lip between her teeth and worried it.
"Was there bleeding? Do ye need me to help with yer...?" She reached out her hand as her words drifted off. Maggie recognized that Rachelle didn't know what to do but wanted to do something to help. Rachelle probably thought she was overstepping herself since it was clearly Alex's right to discipline where and when and who he saw fit.
"No, Rachelle, Alex's belt did not damage my skin. I am suffering from head pains, and they make my stomach roll and clench."
"So, ye are no' breeding?" The question came out on a whisper.
"No, Rachelle, I am not carrying a babe. Not Alex's nor anyone else's." Maggie struggled to sit up, and moments later, she was retching into the pot again. She felt a cool hand on her brow and then a wet piece of linen was thrust into her hand. When her stomach calmed, she sat back on her heels. Looking into Rachelle's disbelieving face, she repeated her denial.
"No baby."
Rachelle helped her to her feet and back to the bed. "Alex told Odara ye were not weel and wouldna work this day. Everyone thought it was because he beat ye and ye were too embarrassed to come down."
Maggie shook her head in reply. What a time for a full-blown migraine attack. She could not remember one this severe. The arch and its mysterious vibrations were behind this. Her head had started pounding as she neared it. The longer she stayed near it, the stronger the pain. It had triggered this attack.
"I was ashamed to come to the kitchen today, but it was my headache that kept me in bed."
"Mayhap Moira would have a potion to help yer pain?"
"Moira?"
"The healer. She lives in the village. Shall I go and ask her for something to ease yer pain?"
A healer? An herbalist, more than likely, at this time in history. Would a healer's concoction help or harm her? She wondered. Well, at least it would give Rachelle something to do.
"Yes, please. Ask for something to help the pain in my head and my stomach's upset."
Rachelle drew the bedcovers up over her and tucked them around her. "I will return as soon as I can."
"Rachelle, please don't get into trouble for me."
"I have time since the men return now for the noon meal. I will find Moira and ask for her help. She will not deny ye."
The door closed slowly and softly, no loud noise to jar her senses.
Rachelle's words penetrated her fog—the noon meal. She had spent the morning in bed, unheard of for a servant, even one who had been punished just yesterday. Well, she would wait and see what this healer's potion looked and smelled like. Then she would decide whether or not to drink it. But, with the throbbing in her head making her dizzy again, she thought that even the death that might follow the unknown brew would be preferable to this pain.
* * *
"What did ye do to her, Alex?"
"Who are ye talking about, Brodie?"
"Ye know, Alex. I am asking ye about Maggie."
The bright sun shone directly down from overhead. Alex shielded his eyes and looked into Brodie's face. His friend's glare and angry eyes were obvious. Alex returned the glare and raised his eyebrows, challenging Brodie to continue at his own risk.
"Ye beat her so much that she is still abed and ill. Rachelle is on her way to Moira now for a potion to help her pain."
"Who told ye that?"
"Rachelle went to check on her and found her retching in yer chamber."
Alex couldn't share the truth of the matter with Brodie. He knew that Maggie's response to the arch was the cause of her pain.
Brodie drew up to his full height before Alex. "Did ye use yer fists on the lass?"
"Brodie, ye do not need to take her side in this. And, nay, I do not use my fists." Brodie's eyes bespoke his disbelief. "She is mine and ye have no right to interfere wi' my handling of her." Alex stood taller and continued, "Do ye know?"
"She is an outsider, she does not know our ways, Alex. Go a bit softly wi' her."
"This from the mon who strangled her a little while after meeting her? Ye are overstepping yer bounds, Brodie."
"Was her offense so grievous that ye had to beat her senseless?"
"Brodie," he growled in warning. He stood, legs spread and hands on his hips. "She was rude to Anice." Brodie's snort made him pause. "She does not know her place and called for me in front of Anice and the villagers. I had to correct her."
"Weel, who else would she call for? Ye are the only one who she knows."
"From the look on yer face, she could call ye."
"Aye, I would aid her, not beat her. And Rachelle would, also."
Alex slapped Brodie on his shoulder and smiled, breaking the growing tension.
"Good. Maggie needs friends here. Come, walk to the hall wi' me and I will look in on her now. And ye can ask her yerself if I used my fists as ye believe."
* * *
"Alex. Join me at the table." Laird Struan's voice carried clearly in the hall, which Alex was trying to sneak through without being seen. The hall quieted, and all eyes looked to him. Changing his direction, he strode to the dais and climbed the steps to the high table. With his attention on Brodie's figure going in the opposite direction, he never saw Anice enter from behind and take her seat.
"Good day, Faither." He nodded his head and then spotted Anice. "And good day to ye, Anice." He paused and noticed a blush spreading over her cheeks as she returned his greeting. She was so young. She would be in her first year of high school in his time. The thought that it was acceptable to marry a girl of that age in this time bothered him. And the fact that everyone here thought he was the man who would do it bothered him even more.
Struan leaned over toward him and beckoned him closer with a crook of a finger. Alex leaned over and turned his head to hear the coming whisper.
"'Tis said that yer mistress—" Struan began.
"Faither, Maggie is my concern," Alex interrupted.
"She is the clan's concern if she is carrying yer child."
Alex sucked in air so fast and hard that he choked. Coughs, loud violent ones, followed the gasp that started it all. Struan whacked Alex on the back a few times to help, but it didn't. Finally, Alex grabbed a mug of ale and took a gulp. After a few more coughs, he could breathe.
"Faither, I think we need to speak privately about this matter. Anice, would ye pardon us for a bit?"
"Of course, Alex, Laird Struan." Her soft voice was accompanied by a dutiful nod, first at him, then the laird. "Firtha can keep me company until yer return."
Anice's maid, the tall one who could scare a Scots warrior out of his kilt, took a seat next to her lady. Alex noticed an unreadable look pass between the laird and the lady's maid. What could that be about?
Struan set the course, off the dais, through the hall, to the solar. Alex matched the laird's long strides step for step. Struan preceded him into the room, so Alex closed the door behind them. Struan turned and faced him, the laird's face hard and ungiving.
"So, is it true?"
"What is it that ye've heard now about Maggie?"
"That she carries yer babe, a bastard for the clan's heir."
How could this be happening? He was an accountant from New Jersey, for God sake. He should be doing lunch with one of the firm's major clients right now. Instead, through some unknown, unbelievable twist of fate and time, he was standing here, playing out a charade with a man supposed to be his father. He raised his hand and rubbed his forehead, then slid his hand through his hair. He wasn't prepared to deal with this problem or any of the problems they had encountered so far. Like Maggie, he kept hoping that he would wake up and find that it was all a dream, a bad dream.
Now this, a rumor about Maggie. The laird would reach the end of his tolerance soon. They had been warned already. So, would this be the straw that broke the camel's back? What would happen to Maggie if Struan's limits had been reached?
"Nay, Faither," Alex said calmly, "Maggie isna breeding."
"Weel, I know that she was found pale and retching over a chamber pot this morn."
"Who told ye this?" Alex could not imagine that Rachelle had spread such news to the laird.
"Anice's maid brought the news to me."
"The tall one who spread tales before?"
"Aye, that one. She came to me, kenning that Anice would be distraught if this reached her ears."
"Faither, Anice's maid is trying to cause trouble for Maggie again. I am swearing to ye that Maggie is not carrying my bairn."
"Why is she ill?" Struan cast him a questioning look, and for a moment, Alex thought he heard a note of true concern in his voice. Concern for Maggie?
"She suffers from pains in her head that make her ill. She complained of them last eve in our chamber."
"Was that before or after ye beat her?"
Although spoken in an even tone, Alex could hear the censure in Struan's question. Did everyone here believe him capable of beating a woman? That answer was obvious: yes. And he should have been within his rights to correct his leman any way he chose. Even Maggie had told him that much. But now his friend and his father were questioning him about his actions. Was this more about the real Alex than about himself? Did the real Alex have a streak of cruelty that worried his family and friends? Or had Maggie's warmth and personality won these people over as she was winning him as well? He needed to think about this. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to rid himself of anger.
"I took my belt to her back, Faither, three strokes on her back. She was alive but sleeping when I left our chamber this morn."
"Did ye also take yer ease on her after ye... used yer belt?"
"Nay. I am not such an animal that I would take from her when she is unable to give to me of her own will. I have never forced myself on her."
Struan's tense stance relaxed before Alex's eyes. Apparently, his words had appeased the laird in some way.
"We must rejoin Anice and the meal, Alex." Struan headed for the door.
"I w
ould like to look in on Maggie first."
"Nay, Alex. After the meal, ye can see to her. Yer worry for her is admirable, but I canna permit ye to put her first before consideration of Anice. Ye must learn to balance yer concern for yer leman with yer betrothed's right to yer attentions. Otherwise, trouble will follow for all involved."
Although he strongly disagreed with Struan, Alex could not refuse his order. As they walked back into the hall, Alex saw Rachelle edging her way along the back of the hall. She paused briefly, her eyes widening, as she caught his look. He turned his glance to the front of the hall and the high table after he watched her path to the stairs. She would watch over Maggie until he could get there.
Chapter 21
The White Tower
London, England
The sound of soft leather slapping on the stone floor accompanied the young man's strutting steps into the audience room. The quality of his clothing, from his velvet tunic with richly decorated sleeves and shoulder cape, to his parti-colored hose and short leather boots, spoke of his wealth and position. Only the lack of an appropriate head covering denoted the informality of this visit.
"You have summoned me, Your Highness?" The young Scot made an impressive bow before his sovereign, King David of Scotland and current guest of the English King Edward, the third bearing that name.
"Aye, Sandy, I received some puzzling news from your betrothed's clan, the MacNabs."
"Are they trying to change the betrothal agreement?"
"Nay. They have sent to me a letter of thanks for the original betrothal and their regrets that I cannot attend the wedding. It appears that felicitations are due you on your impending wedding."
"Wedding? I know nothing of a wedding!" Alesander Robert MacKendimen strode up and tore the letter from his king's grasp. Their familiarity and camaraderie was obvious in the exchange and in the lack of distance between king and subject. Sandy, as he preferred to be called, read the parchment and cursed vehemently from between clenched teeth.
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