Celtic Blizzard

by Ria Cantrell

  “T’was ye’ who found her, was it not?”

  Jamie sighed. Morag’s Sight was a pain in the arse sometimes. Of course she knew. She always knew! And hadn’t he vehemently wished for Morag to be close at hand when he brought Sinead back to his home? Still, he did not feel comfortable to be alone in his chambers with Sinead MacDougal lying in his bed, even if Morag was there with him. Aye, he had taken a lass to his bed more than a time or two, but there was much at stake with this one. She was a MacDougal, despite what Morag believed and Jamie could not afford to harbor a MacDougal. Well, he was already harboring her, he supposed, but he certainly could not make it look like there was more to it than that. With his hands fisted upon his hips, he said, “Aye, what of it? This is woman’s care. Ye’ll know what best to do. I canna’ help her now.”

  “Stay,” Morag repeated firmly with a wag of her finger. She did not have time for the senseless and prideful excuses that were common with these MacCollum men at the moment.

  The others turned back at her sharp tone and she fairly screeched, “I said out with ye’ all. Only Jamie is to assist me. Now be gone with ye’.”

  Morag hid her smile as the people scattered at her command. She was not the lady of the keep, but most times the clan treated her as if she was and they never questioned her.

  Once the room had been cleared of everyone except Jamie, herself and of course the lass, Morag began to wipe the dried blood clean from the gash in the lass’ thigh. As she worked silently, she felt Jamie’s eyes upon her. She sighed and she said, “Ye’ll be wantin’ to know why I needed ye’ to stay, I suppose.”

  “Aye. T’is bad enough the woman is lying in my bed.”

  “Jamie MacCollum, t’was not I who put her there, as I recall.”

  “Nay, t’was me. I did nay know what else to do with her and until I have a chance to question her, I wanted no other to speak with her. Just her presence here has caused quite a stir.”

  “Hmm, and that shall nay be the only thing that stirs here this day.”

  “Woman, I dunna’ know what ye’ mean and I am in no mood for yer’ riddles. I am soaked to the skin and as soon as I know she is tended to, I need to get myself dry or I’ll be in need of tendin’ afore the night’s end.”

  Morag saw the truth of it. Jamie had forgone his comfort to help the lass. She tossed him one of the furs that had been wrapped around the girl and she said, “Aye, warm yerself’, lad. Ye’ll be of no use to the lassie if ye’ catch yer’ death.”

  Morag bent closer to inspect the wound and after she had cleaned it, she said, “Ach, t’is nay deep. She will heal nicely. I’ll bind it as soon as we get these clothes off of her.”

  Jamie shook his head slowly, “Oh nay, Morag. I have already breached propriety by puttin’ her in my bed. Just cut it away and be done with it.”

  “I dunna’ wish to do that, Jamie. These are the only clothes the lass has come with.”

  Jamie shrugged. “So what? We will find other clothes for her. This keep is vast; surely someone else will have something she can don till her ransom is paid. I’ve no wish to keep her naked in my bed.”

  Jamie knew the lie for what it was, but there was no point in admitting that he found the lass positively ravishing; not that he would do such a thing. Despite what people could say, Jamie took no joy in forcing women in his bed and so far, he never seemed to have to worry about such a thing.

  Morag looked at Jamie and he saw the corners of her lips lift slightly.

  “What?”

  “What indeed, lad? I do believe ye’ actually blushed at the thought.”

  Jamie practically gasped, “Oh, nay I did not. She has much to explain and though she is very beautiful, I have never seen one dressed like her. I am nay certain she has all her wits about her to wander out into a winter storm dressed like that.”

  Morag met his eyes and she said, “I know ye’ find her attire outlandish and that ye’ have never seen someone wear such garb, but trust me, my boy. She is dressed quite normally from where she is from, for ye’ see, I have seen others who wore garments such as these.”

  “Have ye’? And where would our clan Healer have seen such a thing,”

  Jamie asked, losing patience with the mysterious chatter. He no longer had the rush from the ambush to warm him and his teeth were starting to rattle in his head. He really needed to get warm. The fur was only making it worse because it kept his sodden clothing close to his skin.

  “T’is not where I have seen it, lad, but when. It is less about a place she has come from.”

  “Morag, I really dunna’ understand.”

  “It’s from a time. I am from a different time.” The lass had answered, what Morag had not dared to.

  Sinead’s eyes had suddenly opened and they now searched Jamie’s face. The flames from the hearth flickered in the aquamarine depths of them and Jamie could not look away. As if her words had not been understood, she repeated, “I am not from your time, Jamie MacCollum. I am not from this time.”

  Chapter 11

  “Morag, ye’ see! The woman is daft.”

  “I assure you I am not.”

  Jamie ignored her and he fairly growled, “What have ye’ given her? She is clearly suffering from some sort of delusion.”

  “Excuse me. I am right here. I believe I spoke to you. Do not talk about me like I’m not here.”

  Morag suppressed a small chuckle. Aye, this one would give her bonny Jamie quite a come-uppance.

  Jamie came closer to the side of his bed and he said, “I dunna’ see what is so funny, Morag? Have ye’ completely lost yer wits?”

  Sinead pulled herself up slightly. Though she was still chilled to the bone, and it was all she could do to not make her teeth gnash, she tried to make herself appear less vulnerable. The big bed dwarfed her and at the moment, with this giant medieval warrior looking as if he wanted to murder her again, she felt quite small and insignificant. Well, she wasn’t going to take it lying down if she could help it.

  “You should not speak to her that way, you know. She is your elder and you should be more respectful to her.”

  Morag fairly choked on the laugh that fully threatened to break from her throat. This lass was a feisty one. Women of her time were all that way it seemed. She did not like to think of that other time when she had ventured into that very distant century ahead in the Wheel of Eras because it brought back an ache that threatened to pierce her heart in twain, but that time, too she saw how self-assured the women were. They were not just subjects of the males of the day. Morag shook her head to put the memory aside. She said, “Jamie, the lass is tellin’ ye’ the truth. I know it because I have been to her time. T’is why I wanted to keep the others out. T’is been a secret I have kept most of my life.”

  Jamie stared in disbelief. He must have looked slack-jawed.

  “Jamie, I have told no one, not even yer’ da. T’was too dangerous a tale to tell, but I have seen this one in a dream. I know it seems mad but it is so. She has come from a far distant time.”

  “And place, actually, too. I come from a land named America. It is far across the sea from Scotland.”

  “Ye’ speak like a Sassenach, though.”

  “Yes, but I am not English.”

  “Aye, ye’ are a blasted MacDougal. Ye’ said so yerself.”

  “I am a MacDougal, but my family is not at war with yours any longer. I swear it.”

  “Ye’ can swear all ye’ wish. Why should I believe a MacDougal?”

  “Jamie, she is telling the truth.”

  “And after what ye’ have just told me, I fair say, that I dunna’ believe ye’, either.”

  Sinead looked from Jamie to Morag. The old woman had kind eyes but Sinead could see she was a force to be reckoned with. She had age behind her, and with it came wisdom and experience. She was a woman who knew about human nature and Sinead could see it all behind those icy grey depths of her eyes. There was something else there, too. It was as if those eyes glinted silver
with amusement about something. Sinead did not know what could be amusing, really. Here she was stuck in medieval Scotland in the middle of a blizzard, with no way to get home, injured by an arrow and with a large beastly maniac ready to chop her in half. He probably would with that enormous sword he still had strapped to his delicious back, though it was mostly hidden by the fur wrapped around him.

  Only, he hadn’t killed her. Instead, he brought her to his home and placed her in his bed so that she could be cared for. If he wanted to kill her, he only needed to leave her unconscious in the snow to freeze to death. But here she was, nestled in his bed, thawing out nicely while he dripped frigid puddles on the stone floor. Sinead snuck a look at him again. By all that was holy, she had never seen a more masculine looking hunk in her entire life. Okay, Sinead…pull yourself together. You are gawking at him like he is a piece of savory meat. And Mother of God, am I ever hungry!

  Jamie did not miss the lass’ bold assessment of him. He was used to women eying him, but most of the ones he had known did it in a coquettish way. This one was brazen in her unabashed gawping of him. She looked like she wanted to devour him. If he was honest with himself, he would admit that he would rather enjoy a taste as well, but he could not admit such a thing! Despite what Morag had claimed, and by all the Ancients, what a tale it had been; the lass was still a MacDougal. She would always be a MacDougal and nothing he could do would change that. Well, there was a way to change it, he supposed, but that was out of the question. He was not a man to take a wife and he certainly was not going to marry anyone who was an enemy of his clan.

  As if reading his mind, Morag looked Jamie square in the eye and he saw that annoying little smirk upon her weathered lips that she always got when she was about to meddle in his personal affairs. Throwing off the fur that he had put about him to try to warm himself, he said, “Oh no…no, Morag. Not another word. Dunna’ even think it. It shall nay be.”

  He rushed past the bed when Morag called, “Where are ye’ going, Lad?”

  “Tend the lass! I’ll nay have her dead. She’ll get us no ransom if she dies. Do what ye’ need to do to heal her so we can contact the feckin’ MacDougal and barter her price so she can be returned where she belongs.”

  And just like that, he stormed out of the room like the snowy tempest that swirled beyond the castle walls. The door crashed on the hinges as he slammed it behind him and the force of it practically shook the timbers of the rafters overhead.

  “Wow, is he always in such a bad mood?”

  Morag smiled. “Nay, he is the most even tempered of all his brothers, actually. It takes much for Jamie to bluster so.”

  Sinead’s eyes opened widely and she said, “Sheesh, if that is even tempered, I think I’d hate to meet his other brothers.”

  Morag chuckled. Sinead did not know why, but she rather liked this old bird. She had spunk and Sinead knew that in the medieval world, women were quite biddable to the whims of men, but this little old lady wielded a certain amount of power and she was unfazed by Jamie’s bad temper. “Ye’ have met two of his brothers, Lass. They were with him when ye’ found him.”

  “Jesus! Are all the men mighty giants here?”

  Again Morag chuckled. “Some, I’d say are puny…but nay my lads. They are all strong and bonny.”

  “Bonny? You mean beautiful. I only caught glimpses of the other two, but I think I would have to agree with you. They are gorgeous.”

  “Hehh, aren’t they though? Their mother would be proud of them.”

  “Wait, I thought you just said they were your lads.”

  “Aye, lassie. I raised them. Their mother died when they were still quite young. I am just the chatelaine of the keep and when Lady Mairgred passed, I was called to help Laird Caleb in the raisin’ of his brood. T’is four lads and one beautiful lass. Ye’ will meet them all soon.”

  “I don’t know. Jamie seems quite certain to be rid of me and I can’t say I disagree. I need to get back home…I-I have no idea how I came to be here.”

  Morag’s eyes darkened and the smile died on her face. “How indeed! I have kept my secret many years, but yet, here ye’ are. I have found another who can manipulate time.”

  “I don’t know. It must have been some sort of accident. I would think it was a dream but for the searing pain in my leg.”

  “I will tend that, lass. T’is not more than a scrape. It may no’ even leave a bad scar.”

  Sinead brushed that off. She didn’t care if it left a scar. She wasn’t so vain as to worry about that, but she realized that in medieval times, scarred women were thought to be less valuable. Oh God, I’m really in medieval Scotland! What am I going to do?

  Morag saw panic as the realization of the lass’ plight was evident in the terror in her eyes. She quietly said, “If ye’ have come here, ye’ can go back, lass. I’m sure of it.”

  “Well, how? How do you do it?”

  Morag shrugged. “I know not. It seems I am pulled through time when I am needed. It is a gift I dunna’ relish.”

  “But you said you had been to my time.”

  If someone could exude sorrow, the mention of that caused something deep to well inside of Morag to the point that it was visible in her entire being. “Aye, I was in yer’ time…or near to it, I suppose, for I ne’er learned what year it truly was. No matter how I pleaded with the Guardians, they have nay sent me back to that place.”

  “You wanted to go back?”

  “Aye, lass. With all that makes me a woman.”

  “Did you love someone there?” Sinead knew she should not pry, but what else could make a woman want to stay in a time she did not belong in? What indeed!

  Morag nodded and Sinead was almost certain those silvery eyes were welling with tears. “I left part of my heart in yer’ world, lass.”

  Sinead sat up more fully, despite the pain in her leg and she took the old woman’s hand in hers and patted it gently. “I’m sorry. I did not mean to upset you.”

  Morag sniffled back the tears that threatened to spill in front of this lovely stranger. She had refrained from saying even his name and it still hurt her soul after all these years to think about. Now, this woman had come from a similar time and place. Maybe she was the one to help Morag find the missing piece of her life.

  “His name was Tavish. It has been many years, but it cuts a mother’s heart in pieces, just the same.”

  “Wait, what? Mother’s heart? He was your son?”

  “Aye, lass. T’is a terribly sad story, I’m afraid; too sad for me to tell. When I was widowed, I was even younger than ye’. My son was born early and he was nay a strapping lad like Caleb’s sons turned out to be. Nay…he was weak and sickly and I used the gift to bring him to a place that I knew he could be tended…to give him a chance at life; a life he would nay have lived long enough in this time to thrive in. I…ne’er saw him again.”

  A sob wracked the frail old woman and Sinead was very sorry for having made the woman admit such a thing.

  As awkward silence stretched between them, Morag wiped away her tears and said, “So ye’ see, lass, I know not how to send ye’ back.”

  Sinead was filled with compassion for the lady, but she also felt a rising degree of panic. She had a life back home. Alright, she was a bit lonely at times, but she liked her life. She loved her work and her friends. She could not possibly stay in this primitive time, even if she had fantasized what it would have been like more times than not. Damn it! Now she knew what the old saying be careful what you wish for truly meant.

  “I have to go back. I can’t stay here.”

  “Can’t ye’, lass? Jamie would do well with a woman like ye’.”

  “Oh no, Ma’am! He’d sooner murder me than be with me. You heard him. He wants to sell me back to the MacDougals.”

  “Ransom, lass. Ransom. It is not sellin’. It is what is expected when a prisoner is exchanged.”

  “Prisoner…I’m a prisoner here? Oh my God! I’m a prisoner here. I really am a
prisoner here!”

  It was Morag’s turn to pat Sinead’s hand and she said softly, “Ye’ may find ye’ rather like bein’ here, lass. The laird is a very kind and goodly man. He will nay keep ye’ as a captive. I promise ye’, ye’ will be treated more like an honored guest.”

  “I don’t want to be a guest…a captive guest. I have certain freedoms and rights that I rather enjoy. In my world only criminals hold people for ransom.”

  “T’is not criminal but honorable, lass. T’is what is expected.”

  “Sinead…My name is Sinead.”

  “Aye, lass. I know it.” The old lady’s eyes crinkled with light. She really was a likeable old gal, but Sinead needed to get out of here and she needed to get home now. This was not supposed to happen.

  “Look, I am sure you mean well but I really have to get back. I should not be here.”

  “Well, the fact that ye’ are here means that the Guardians saw fit to send ye’. What were ye’ doin’ afore ye’ arrived in the midst of this storm?”

  “I…I was reading. Oh, my God. I was reading about Jamie. I read that he had been killed and something about the way he died touched my heart. I remember thinking that he was too young to die and I wondered if his family mourned him for the rest of their lives. I…was thinking that I wished I could warn him of the plot to ambush him and save him. I made a wish to spare him…Oh, God, I wished…”

  Morag’s face visibly changed again. “Ye’ did what, Lass? Ye’ have no idea what ye have actually done. It is against the laws of time to change what has been written.” Morag now looked as stricken as Sinead felt. “What have ye’ done, lass….what have ye’ done?”

  “But I saved Jamie. He was supposed to die today because of treachery. He didn’t die. He is still here and uninjured. I am the one who got hurt,” Sinead emoted, feeling quite hysterical at the moment. “I am the one who had arrows shot at me. I am the one who could have died.”

  “But ye’ live, lass.” Morag spoke it so softly; Sinead almost could not hear her. “And Jamie lives….ye’ have changed what was to be.”