by Katy Baker
Whilst Ailsa obligingly turned her back—with a small smile for Thea’s prudishness—Thea dried herself with the blanket Ailsa offered her and then donned the clean undergarments Ailsa had provided.
It was amazing, she thought, as she dried herself, how a bath and clean clothes could make a person feel better. This, along with the remedy Ailsa had given her, had chased her headache to a background annoyance and the dizziness had abated.
Ailsa bade her sit by the fireplace whilst she dried and combed out her hair.
“You’re very good at this you know,” Thea observed.
“Do ye think so?” Ailsa replied, obviously pleased at the compliment. “To be honest, tis good to use my old skills again and to have another female around to use them on. I used to be a maid in Dun Ringill before I married Rhodry and gave it all up to be a farmer’s wife.”
“So you used to live in the castle?”
“Aye,” Ailsa sighed wistfully. “It was a grand place back then. Of an evening we would gather in the Great Hall to play games, swap gossip and listen to stories. Every feast day there would be dancing on the green in front of the castle.” She tutted suddenly. “Listen to me, carping on about what used to be. It may be a hard life scraping a living out here on the land but I wouldnae have it any other way.”
Ailsa’s words sent a pang of longing through Thea. What she wouldn’t give to be as content as her new friend. Now, it seemed, she was farther from that than ever. She was alone in a time and a place she didn’t belong. A wave of homesickness washed through her.
Ailsa finished Thea’s hair and then crossed to the bundle she’d left by the door. Untying it, she shook out several long dresses in varying colors. All were expertly embroidered with flowers and birds along the hems.
“I took the liberty of bringing ye some of my old dresses and some shoes,” she explained. “They aren’t much but I thought they may help ye feel more at home.”
“They’re beautiful,” Thea breathed. She ran her hands down the soft fabric, enjoying the sensation of it under her finger tips. At home she wasn’t really a dress kind of girl. They weren’t really conducive to wildlife photography so she normally went around in jeans, boots and t-shirt. But if she was to fit in here, she had to look the part. Besides, the dresses really were lovely.
Not for the first time that afternoon, Thea was glad to have Ailsa’s help. Dresses in this time, it turned out, had hooks up the back that were difficult to do up without help. Finally though, she managed to get one on and then she did a little twirl in front of Ailsa.
“Well? Do I look utterly ridiculous?”
Ailsa grinned. “Ridiculous isnae the word I’d use. My, but if ye were up at the castle ye would be turning heads.”
Thea snorted. “I’ll take your word for it.” There were no mirrors in the room and Thea doubted that Logan even owned one.
“How is yer head now?” Ailsa asked. “Are ye feeling up to a little stroll?”
“I feel much better, thanks to you,” Thea replied, smiling. “I don’t know what you put in that concoction but it’s certainly done the trick. My headache’s gone completely.”
Ailsa nodded. “That’s good. Now, some fresh air is next. What did ye call me? Doctor? All right then. Outside with ye. Doctor’s orders!”
Thea laughed. “Yes, sir!”
She took Ailsa’s arm and the two women made their way out into the yard. The day had turned blustery again and the wind tugged at the hem of Thea’s dress and brought the smell of the sea to her nostrils. There was no sign of Logan but Thea could hear voices coming from the other side of the house.
As she looked around, she realized that what yesterday had seemed like a rustic shack surrounded by wilderness now looked more like a neat-and-tidy holding, surrounded by wild but beautiful countryside. The cottage was well made, the stones of its walls fitting neatly against one another. The thatch on the roof was fresh and clean. The barnyard was well swept with a dry-stone wall around it.
The two women rounded the corner of the cottage to see Logan and another man, who Thea guessed must be Ailsa’s husband, in the distance. They were busy carrying rocks over to a part of the wall that had collapsed.
“Ah! That’s what I like to see!” Ailsa said. “Good honest work to earn yer bread! Keeping yerself out of trouble, husband?”
The two men turned. Ailsa’s husband grinned at his wife but Logan’s eyes leapt to Thea. They widened at the sight of her and something flashed in them. Thea couldn’t have said what it was but it sent heat rushing through her body right down to her toes.
“Thea. I would like ye to meet my husband, Rhodry,” Ailsa said.
Rhodry stepped forward. He was blond-haired like his wife, with an easy smile. “An honor to meet ye, my lady. Logan has told me of yer predicament. Being lost in a strange land is bad enough but to be rescued by Logan MacAuley? Well, it doesnae get much worse than that. Ye have my sympathies.”
His eyes danced with amusement and Thea couldn’t help but smile as Logan frowned at his friend’s teasing.
“Thanks, Rhodry. To both of you. Ailsa has been most kind. I don’t know what I would have done without her.”
Ailsa waved away the compliment, embarrassed.
Logan stepped towards Thea. He looked her over, his expression unreadable. “Ye are well, lass?” he asked.
She nodded. “Better. Much better.”
“I’m pleased to hear it. Rhodry owes me a favor so at first light tomorrow the two of us will ride out and see if we canna discover the whereabouts of Irene MacAskill. One old woman couldnae have gotten far. Trust me, lass. Ye’ll soon be on yer way home.”
“And until then I’m sure ye can put up with spending one night under the same roof as our Logan, canna ye?” Ailsa said. “Dinna worry, he’s a gentleman. Well, most of the time.”
Thea nodded. One night. That’s all. Tomorrow they’d find Irene and she’d go home. She could put up with one night here couldn’t she? She glanced at Logan and felt a little thrill go through her. Yes, one night wouldn’t be too bad at all.
Chapter 6
Logan did his best to stifle the storm of emotions that swirled inside him, but it was hard. Lord! It was hard! When Thea had first stepped outside wearing that dress and with her hair spilling over her shoulders in midnight waves, it had taken all of his self-control not to gawk like an idiot. Her beauty had hit him like a physical blow.
And now Ailsa was suggesting that Thea stay here at the cottage with him until they found Irene, and whilst the very thought of having her so close sent a hot spear of desire right through him, it evoked a stronger, more primal emotion.
Fear.
It wasn’t safe for her. He could not let it happen.
“I’ll just fetch my bag and then we’ll be on our way,” Ailsa said. “My mother has had the children long enough.”
Logan followed her and when they were out of sight of Rhodry and Thea said, “She canna stay here.”
Ailsa’s eyebrows rose. “Why ever not?”
Logan groped to explain himself. He couldn’t tell her the truth—that he was terrified of his curse falling upon her. It affected anyone who stayed near him too long and he’d already risked too much by allowing her to stay at his croft for one night. He dare not risk another.
“It isnae proper,” he blurted. “What would folk say if they knew she was staying here with me? I willnae have her reputation besmirched. She must stay with ye and Rhodry.”
That way she’ll be safe.
“There aren’t any folk round here to notice whether she’s staying with ye or not, much less gossip about her,” Ailsa replied firmly. “Ye know there isnae room at our cottage. Not now my ma is living with us as well. I’m sure ye can keep yer hands to yerself for one night.”
Ailsa meant the words lightly but they cut through Logan like a knife. Keep his hands to himself? He couldn’t even risk going near the lass! Before he could frame a reply Ailsa retrieved her bag from the house, then she and
Rhodry were striding away down the track, leaving Logan alone with Thea.
She stood a little ways off, watching the couple leave. She had her arms wrapped around herself as if cold, her eyes holding a faraway cast. What was she thinking? About her homeland? About how much she wanted to return to it?
He scrubbed a hand through his hair. Lord above! How had he ended up in this situation? When he found Irene MacAskill he would wring her neck!
Logan ground his teeth, trying to think of something, anything, to say, but no words came. He watched Thea a moment longer then turned on his heel and strode across the yard to his forge.
A sack of half-finished horse shoes sat in the corner where he’d left them the night before he met Thea. He’d lost a full day’s work already and that was something he could ill afford. His reputation as the best blacksmith in the area meant that the people of Dun Ringill were willing to ride the extra distance to his croft in order to purchase his work. But that would soon change if he started being late with his orders.
As he gathered his tools and began stoking the fire, his thoughts whirled. Normally working at his forge brought him peace. It chased the thoughts from his head and he was able to lose himself in the hard physical labor. Not today. Today thoughts and memories plagued him. Thoughts of Thea. Of Irene MacAskill. Of his curse.
These in turn led to memories. Of his old master, Albus, an enormous bear of a man, standing with his hands on his hips as he watched a young Logan shape his first sword. Of his father, Laird David MacAuley, and the smile of pride on his face as Logan had presented that first sword to him as a gift.
So long ago. Just memories now. Less than a whisper on the breeze.
Logan shook his head. What would his father think if he could see Logan now? Would he understand why he’d done what he did? Or would he denounce him for the fate he’d chosen? For the fate he’d condemned his brothers to?
For the first time in many long months, Logan thought of them. Old pain twisted his guts like a half-healed battle wound. Where were his brothers now? Were they well? Were they even still alive? He’d not seen either of them since that fateful night when they’d made their pact. Had they managed to carve a life for themselves away from the clan? He had no way of knowing. All he could do was live the half-life he’d made for himself and hope that his brothers had found some measure of peace.
Grunting, he heaved the sack of horseshoes onto a bench and opened it, counting them. They were fine work, some of his best, and he suspected they were headed for the laird’s own stable up at the castle. He paused. The castle. A sudden wave of hopelessness washed through him. It was his castle. His stable. His horses that these shoes were destined for. And yet, were he to deliver these in person, nobody would even recognize him.
For a moment he railed at his fate. How things would be different if he was still the laird. Thea would be sleeping in a soft bed and a warm room rather than in a drafty cottage. Logan would have the whole garrison out looking for Irene MacAskill, not just himself and Rhodry. Thea would know the delights of clan life instead of being stranded out here alone with him.
Would ye change it? A voice whispered in the back of his head. Would ye do things differently if ye had yer time over? Would ye have refused to make yer bargain?
Nay, he answered himself, with a sigh. I wouldnae.
The sun was getting low in the sky and dusk would soon be falling. With it would come the chill of a Highland night. He thought of Thea, warm in his bed. With a growl of frustration, he pumped the bellows on his forge and set to work.
***
Thea watched as Logan walked away from her. He’d said not a word since Ailsa and Rhodry left. With a sigh, she made her way back inside the cottage. The fire had died low and the Highland evening already had a chill to it. Crouching by the hearth, she carefully fed sticks into it until there was a merry fire blazing, chasing away the cold.
Thea knelt by the bed and pulled out her pack from underneath. Clutching it to her chest, she sat down on a chair. It creaked under her weight and she noticed that one of the legs was loose. She frowned. She would have to fix that.
For now though, she opened her pack and carefully took out her camera. At the sight of it, a sense of dislocation went through her. It looked so out of place in this time. Just like her. She turned it on and was relieved when the red light on the top flashed and the screen on the back lit up. Once the battery ran out that would be it. She had no way to recharge it. But for now at least, she had this tenuous link to home.
She selected the gallery function and began scrolling through the photographs. There they were; the pictures she’d taken since she’d arrived in Scotland. The hotel. The rental car. The bustling streets of Glenmorrow. Right now they felt so far away as to be on a different planet. She continued scrolling. A Highland cow peering at her over a fence. A pair of horse-riders waving at her as they trotted by. A kestrel riding the thermals above. On and on the pictures went and with each new one, Thea felt the despondency spreading. How had she ended up here? How would she get back to the places in these photos?
The next image flashed onto the screen and she gasped.
It was the archway.
The stones reared up out of the water like dark sentinels, their straight lines seeming harsh against the waves of the sea. Even in a photograph there was something about them that seemed to draw Thea in. She ran the tip of her finger down the tiny screen, tracing their outline. How on earth could a stone archway transport her through time? None of this made any sense. It was crazy. Crazy!
She used the zoom function to look more closely, searching for any kind of clue as to what had happened. The pattern carved into the stones’ surface sprang into focus, a pattern of interlocking coils. Thea frowned. She’d seen this pattern somewhere else recently. But where? The concussion had made her memory hazy and she couldn’t quite piece it together. With a ‘humph’ of annoyance she turned the camera off so as not to waste the battery, returned it to her pack, and pushed the whole thing under the bed. She felt a huge wash of homesickness.
One night, she told herself. You only need to last one night.
With this thought running through her head, she seated herself on the rug and stared into the fire. Her eyes drifted closed.
The next morning Thea woke slowly. Her back ached and there was a cramp in one leg. It took her a moment to realize that she’d fallen asleep on the rug in front of the fire and that the bed hadn’t been slept in. She looked around bleary-eyed. Where was Logan? Hadn’t he returned to the cottage last night? Where had he slept?
With a groan she sat up and rubbed her eyes. She had a headache again and she knew Ailsa would not be happy with her for sleeping on the hard ground. She climbed to her feet, shuffled over to the water jug in the corner, and poured herself a drink of the cold, clear water. Then she mixed up her medicine and downed it in one, gritting her teeth at the acrid taste.
Weak gray light was seeping under the door and Thea guessed it was early morning, perhaps not yet dawn. She took a deep breath.
Today, she thought. Today Logan will find Irene MacAskill and I’ll go home. Tonight I’ll be sleeping in a comfortable hotel bed binge-watching my favorite shows, drinking wine and gorging on ice cream.
She had a quick wash from the water jug, gasping as the icy water chased away the last of her sleepiness, and took her time stretching her arms over her head and trying to work the kinks out of her neck. There was still no sign of Logan but she could hear a clinking noise coming from behind the house.
She pulled the door open and stepped into the yard. Stepper stuck her head over the stable door and snorted. Dawn was just beginning to turn the sky orange and the rim of the sun was yet to appear above the hills. A soft breeze stirred Thea’s hair and sent goose bumps riding up her arms.
She drew in a great, deep breath, allowing it to fill her lungs. As it did so, an unexpected sense of peace settled inside her. This place was wild and untamed, so different to what she was used to.
And yet it was beautiful. It was so...so...Thea groped for a word. So now. So present. Without the distractions of TV, internet, the constant notifications on her cell phone, Thea felt...liberated. In this place there was only the now. This moment. And then the next. It felt strange but comforting.
She crossed the yard to the stable and scratched Stepper behind the ears. The mare leaned into the touch and then sniffed at the front of Thea’s dress, hoping for a treat.
Thea laughed. “I don’t have anything. But I promise I’ll find you a carrot or an apple or something. How would you like that? Now where’s your master, eh?”
She left the stable and made her way around the back of the cottage to the low-roofed building that sat a little apart from the rest. Sure enough, the clinking she’d heard was coming from inside.
“Logan?” she called but there was no answer.
She ducked under the low eaves and into the building. A wall of heat hit her. It was like stepping into an oven. The space around the edge of the room was taken up with racks holding tools of all kinds. Several huge water vats stood in one corner and in the center of the room was a stone built kiln-type thing holding coals that burned white-hot. Next to this stood a huge anvil where Logan was busy hammering at a piece of metal.
He had his back to her and was so intent on his work that he’d heard neither her approach nor her call. He was stripped to the waist, with only a leather apron covering his chest and thick gloves on his hands. His shoulder-length hair clung to his neck in damp tangles and a thin sheen of sweat covered his skin, highlighting the contours of his muscled back and arms as he raised a hammer high over his head and brought it pounding down onto the strip of metal over and over again. Sparks flew from the white-hot bar but Logan paid them no heed and they dropped harmlessly to the hard-packed earthen floor.
A smithy, Thea realized. Logan is a blacksmith.