"Come now, lass. 'Tis said he looked and sounded every bit the warrior ready to slay those who had done this to ye. Anice walked out of the room wi' her head held high." Maggie shifted on the chair. "Struan ordered a litter to bring ye here, and he forbade Alex to come to ye. As I told ye, Alex did come last night, under the cover of dark, to see how ye fared, in spite of the laird's order. 'Tis all I know about it."
"How did you find out this much?" The woman had to have a great deal of sources within the castle to know the details she did.
"I know much of what happens to the clan, be they in the castle or in the village."
"Aye, but do ye know it afore they do?" Maggie imitated the accent that surrounded her daily. It was becoming easier and easier to slip into it. Alex had even started teaching her some Gaelic words and phrases—the interesting ones.
"Ye may pass for a good Scottish lass yet. And no. I mostly find out after things happen. 'Tis only for special things that my gift awakens and I share in the wisdom."
Maggie shifted again and yawned. Just sitting up for this little while had used all of her strength.
"Weel, lass, are ye ready for a bit of a rest? I think that will do ye the most good. Come, I will help ye back to the pallet."
"I want to be awake in case Alex comes."
"Alex willna come here in the daylight, Struan willna allow it. If he is able, he will come this night. So, get yer rest now."
Maggie didn't have the strength to fight the woman. She followed Moira's lead and, in a few moments, found herself on the pallet in the small room. The darkness and warmth of the room called to her. She was aware of Moira putting on more of her ointment, but she was falling asleep quickly.
Alex, will you come tonight?
Chapter 37
He didn't come that night. He didn't come the next, either. By the third day, she was feeling well enough to be angry. "Oh, he was worried about her," Jean said when she brought Maggie's clothes and belongings from the castle. He checked on her condition when Moira was called to the keep to treat a few wounded soldiers. Moira told her that he waited to speak with her and asked many questions. But his actions spoke louder than his words in this case.
She stretched up and pulled another shirt from the line strung between the trees. Her blouse pulled across her back, making her wince. Still, it was an improvement over yesterday when the wounds still seeped. She found that if she kept moving, she felt better. Inactivity caused more tightening and stiffness. Folding the air-dried laundry was her therapy. It kept other things off her mind. Alex, however, would not stay out of her thoughts.
She remembered Moira's expression when she refused any more of her homemade brews. Afraid that it would interfere with the amoxicillin hidden in her backpack, Maggie stopped taking the tea. Moira caught her taking some of the oval tablets and just frowned. When she tried to explain their use, Moira waved her off. "'Tis no' of my time, lass. Ye keep it to yerself," Moira said. So, Maggie had kept them hidden, following the same regimen she used for her recurrent ear infections. After just two days of the antibiotic and several liberal doses of extra-strength pain reliever, her fever was gone and the sores were healing quickly.
Now, the time when she would move elsewhere was growing closer. It was uncomfortable sleeping in the small house with Pol and Moira. They did not curtail their relationship, so Maggie was left lying awake, fantasizing about Alex. Oh, they didn't make it obvious but, without even a door to separate them, the sounds of lovemaking, avid lovemaking, spread through the compact cottage.
So, maybe she was just jealous.
And hurt.
And hurting.
She moved on to the next row of clothes, carrying the folded laundry in a large, woven basket. She thought Moira's reaction to the medicine was peculiar. She was interested in learning as much as she could about this time and place. Moira didn't seem interested or intrigued about Maggie and Alex's time at all. Other than a few general questions about men's and women's fashions, Moira kept her curiosity to herself.
Now that Maggie's back was mending, Struan said she was to move from Moira's cottage soon, and what the laird ordered was obeyed. Moira was out at the moment making arrangements for a place. Maggie didn't like being in the dark, but she knew Moira would do what was necessary.
Sounds of laughing reached her on the cool breeze. Maggie took the basket inside the cottage and pulled her scarf from her pocket. With it in place, no one could tell that her hair had been cut. It was to save her from shame and scorn in the village that Moira urged her to cover her head when anyone visited. She was getting used to the lightness of her curls already.
Yesterday, with Moira's help, she trimmed her hair to get all of it to the same length. Moira was horrified to learn that in Maggie's time any length or color of hair was permitted and encouraged. Moira had shaken her head at that information and muttered under her breath for a few minutes about it.
Maggie approached the door and watched as Moira and an older woman walked down the path from the village. The older woman was tall, with gray hair peeking out from under her kerchief. Maggie opened the door and stood back for them to enter.
"Be a good lass and get us some cool water from the well, Maggie."
Maggie nodded at the other woman's smile and picked up the wooden bucket by the door. They waited for her to leave before continuing their conversation. When she stepped inside, their words halted again. She poured the water into two mugs and set them on the table in front of them.
"Will there be anything else, Moira?"
"Nay, lass. Give us a few moments alone, if ye please."
"Of course, Moira." Maggie didn't want to leave; she knew they talked about her and her future. But she was learning her place here more each day. It was a hard lesson to learn. Here, she had no choice but to follow the rules, fit into the role. After talking with Moira, however, she'd found that women here had much more control over their lives than she had first thought. Most of it was a subtle power, but power nonetheless.
When she got home, well, she had things to think about. Her last experience with a man left her with a bad feeling about men and their need to control. To Don, love meant controlling everything she did, every place she went, everyone she knew. She had let her guard down and before she was even aware of it, Don had firmly entrenched himself in a power position in her life, and it had been a long time before she could take back that control.
Somehow, she could not ever picture Alex doing the same thing. He knew she hated restrictions on her and did his best here to ease her way. In the privacy of their room, in their conversations, in their lovemaking, they were equals. Neither controlled the other. For that alone, she would have loved him.
She wanted to see him to tell him how she felt but was afraid to burden him with her feelings. What if he didn't feel as strongly about her? He had certain things he wanted to accomplish in his life, and she definitely hadn't been on that list. When they got back home, would they go their separate ways? Would he look for another suitable candidate for his wife of convenience? Or would their experience here have as profound an effect on him as it was having on her?
Shaking her head, Maggie decided to keep her feelings to herself for a while longer. Alex was surely having a difficult time on his own in the castle. Looking up, she saw Moira and the other woman walking toward where she sat in the shade of the trees. She stood as they approached.
"Maggie, this is Pol's aunt Torra. She haes invited ye to stay wi' her in her cottage."
Maggie looked at Torra and smiled. "Thank you for offering, mistress. When should I come to your home?"
"Gather yer belongings now, lass, and she will show you the way there. Ye may come to visit whene'er ye have time to, Maggie. Torra will need yer help wi' the bairns most of yer days, but yer evenings will be yer own. And join us for supper this eve."
"Help with the children, er, bairns?"
"Aye, Torra watches o'er her son's bairns while he and his wife work in the castl
e. Since Torra hurt her hip some weeks ago, she needs help to lift and care for the wee ones."
Children? This was wonderful. This was exactly what she should be doing: caring for children.
"Of course, Moira, I would be glad to help." Turning to the older woman, she asked, "How many ah, bairns do you tend?"
Torra started laughing. With a very thick accent, she answered Maggie's question, but she directed it to Moira. Maggie didn't understand any of it.
"Torra does not understaun yer words. She haes the Gaidhlig but does not speak the lowland tongue."
"How are we supposed to work together?"
"Ye will learn, lass. Haes Alex no' taught ye any of our words in these weeks?"
Maggie smiled and felt the telltale heat creep up her cheeks. Some words, yes. Not words she would use in mixed company here.
"A few, Moira."
"Weel, that's a good start. Go, gather yer things. Oh, I left the small crock wi' the salve in it on the table for yer back. Torra knows of yer injuries and will put it on for ye."
"I'll be right back, Moira."
She went into the cottage and grabbed the canvas sack that held her clothes and backpack. As she passed Moira's worktable, she picked up the crock of ointment and walked back outside to the waiting women.
"I am ready."
"Ye come to me if ye have need, Maggie. Keep yer eyes open and yer mouth shut and watch for clues."
"Thank you for everything so far, Moira. Thank Pol for sharing his food and your home with me." She hugged her friend and stepped away.
"Do not lose heart, lass. There is a way home, and ye will find it. I know it."
Maggie followed Torra through the village. She looked at the ground and kept an eye on the woman's bare feet as they moved. The villagers stopped their work and pointed at her as she passed. Although aware of their actions, she didn't want to see their open curiosity any longer, so she kept her eyes lowered. Soon, they entered a narrow alley and stopped at a door. This dwelling looked smaller than Moira's and it was located in a group of cottages. Torra opened the door and motioned for her to enter.
It had the same packed dirt floor, the same small hearth in the main room as in Moira's. A small alcove ran off one side of the room, and a table took up most of its space. A bench and some stools encircled the table, but no other furniture stood in the room. Torra pointed to a small chest in one corner and then to Maggie's sack. Nodding her head, Maggie placed all the things she had in this world on that small trunk.
Maggie looked around and shrugged at Torra. "The bairns?" Nothing, not one word in the reply she received could she comprehend. Maggie laughed. This must be Struan's punishment: putting her with someone who couldn't understand a word she said!
Well, at least Torra seemed like a kind woman. And she was Pol's aunt. She would make do until she could leave. And, she would help with the children. And wait. Watch. Listen.
* * *
"It haes been six days, Faither, and I will wait no more."
"Ye will wait until I give ye permission."
"And when will that be? After I am married to Anice?"
Struan clamped his mouth shut and didn't answer Alex's question. That was his plan, then. To force him to wait until the wedding was performed before he could see Maggie. Well, it wouldn't work.
"Ye talk about responsibility to the clan. I have a responsibility to Maggie. She saved my life on our travels here. I will see to her."
"She is weel, and living in the village. She isna being abused. Ye are free of yer responsibility. As yer laird and yer faither, I have taken care of it for ye."
"'Tis no' that simple." Alex pounded his fist on the table in Struan's chamber. "I want to see her. Now. Not after the marriage."
"No! Ye will obey me, Alex. Ye and Anice are getting along much better since she left. Give Anice a chance to win yer affections. She'll be warming yer bed soon enough." Struan pushed back in his chair and stood, rising to his full height and forcing out his chest. "Now, the MacNab will be arriving in a fortnight. By then, ye and Anice will be chomping at the bit to be together."
Alex glared at him. It did no good.
"If ye are that anxious for a woman, bed her now. It wouldna hurt if ye anticipated yer vows wi' her, Alex, after all, ye are betrothed. If ye have not yet?"
"God damn ye, she is but fifteen."
"And ye think she isna ready for ye? Ye are wrong in that, Alex. I have seen the looks she gives ye, like she could eat ye alive! Her passion is only for ye, do not waste it while ye pine for yer leman."
"I canna believe ye want me to bed Anice afore the wedding." He paced the wall in front of the huge hearth. "I do not want Anice. I want Maggie and I will see her."
"I understaun that Maggie is a good lover, but ye can teach Anice the loveplay ye like. She will learn to please ye quick enough."
"Ye do not understaun, Faither. I love Maggie."
"And what haes that to do wi' bedding and marrying Anice, I ask ye?"
He wouldn't get through Struan's thick head and years of customs. He decided then and there he would make his way quietly to Maggie in the dark of the night.
"Never mind, Faither. Ye willna hear me."
"Alex," Struan approached him and laid his arm on Alex's shoulders, "I hear ye and ask ye to hear me. The woman is safe in the village, making her way by tending to the bairns of Torra's son. She haes recovered from the beating and looks weel. Leave it at that for now." Before he could object, Struan continued, "If ye have a need for a woman, seek out Anice. It will go much smoother if ye do not visit the village until after the wedding."
Struan steered him to the door and pulled it open. Alex found himself outside the room, looking at Struan in the doorway.
"Heed me, Alex. Do not think to disobey me in this." The door slammed in his face.
Alex pounded on the door. Struan opened it after but a moment.
"This isna the end of it, Faither. I hae obeyed ye afore, but I will no' in this." Alex yelled his threat at the stubborn old man.
"It had better be the last I hear of it, Alex. I willna suffer yer defiance in this. Push me, and I promise ye she will be sent back to England. Ye'll never know it until it's too late and there will be nothing ye can do." Struan shook his fist at Alex. "And just see if I willna carry through on my promise."
Alex turned and stalked down the hallway. He had to get out before he exploded. Maybe he would drink with the men in the hall and pick a fight? Maybe go to the loch for a long swim until he could move no more?
"Where are ye going, Alex?"
Alex stopped at Struan's question but without turning this time. "To the loch."
"The loch is fine. Do not go to the village, mark me weel."
Alex jumped at the force of Struan's words and the reverberating crash of the door, flung against its frame.
Struan didn't want to hear of any disobedience in this issue? Well, fine, he would make sure no word of his visits to Maggie ever reached Struan's ears. But the laird's threats would not keep him from Maggie any longer.
The loch it would be... then, on to the village.
Chapter 38
"Pssst, Maggie. Wake up."
He had a better chance of waking the dead, he thought in frustration. Alex picked up a few stones and tossed them at her through the window, one at a time. She didn't seem to move a muscle. He did not want to enter the house and take the chance of being seen by Torra. The woman would report back to Struan by morning and all hell would break loose over this. Knowing Maggie's difficulty to wake, he had a feeling he would be stepping inside quietly in a few minutes.
"Maggie? Can ye hear me, lass?"
No response. Damn.
He climbed through the low window. His leg touched the floor without even stretching. Torra was lying on her side on the pallet next to Maggie. She rolled as he took his first step, turned, and now faced the front of the cottage. Maggie lay on her side, not moving other than to breathe. He crouched next to her and wondered how
to do this.
He put his hand over her mouth and waited for her to react. Her eyes flew open after a moment. She grabbed at his hand and began to struggle. He could tell the instant she recognized him because tears filled her eyes. Alex put his finger to his lips and, when she nodded, he removed his hand. He pulled her to her feet and led her to the window. She yanked her hand free and walked to the corner of the room. Maggie returned to him with a plaid wrapped around her shoulders.
Alex went through first and then lifted her out. Leading the way, he followed a narrow path away from the buildings. As they moved farther from the village, he slowed his pace. Finally, feeling safely away, he stopped and turned back to her.
He opened his arms to her, and she filled them instantly. He wrapped his arms around her, holding every inch of her as close as he could. He'd feared that Struan had sent her away already. He had feared he would never see her again. He had feared that he would never love her again.
Alex looked down at the woman he held in his arms, the woman he loved. She was sobbing, crying silently but so deeply it nearly broke his heart.
"Ah, Maggie, love. Do not greet so. I'm here." He put his hand on her head and caressed the soft curls. He moved his hand onto her neck and then onto her back. She didn't flinch, so he rubbed there, too.
"Alex," her voice came out in a whisper. "I didn't know if I'd ever see you again. I was so frightened."
"I have missed ye, Maggie. So much, I canna say."
"And I have missed you, too. Kiss me, Alex. Please kiss me."
She offered her lips up to him, and he accepted. The touch sent vibrations through him. He slid over her lips softly, then pressed against them until she opened her mouth to him. He licked her lips and then moved his tongue inside to taste and feel her warmth. Oh, he had missed this. Missed her warmth and her acceptance. Her passion. Her love.
A Love Through Time Page 24