Celtic Blizzard

by Ria Cantrell

  “I’m afraid I found myself here, my laird, with no real knowledge of how I arrived here. I know it sounds insane, but I assure you, I am not mad.”

  “Nay, lass, I dunna’ think ye’ to be mad. Although, one might question the sanity of a lone girl plunging herself into the midst of an ambush.” Caleb said this last comment with a smirk and Sinead had to laugh in spite of her situation. “You are right, sir. It was not the wisest thing I have done, I must admit.”

  “Well, then, I should like ye’ to feel that while ye’ are here, that MacCollum Keep is yer’ home. I would only ask that ye’ speak not of how ye’ came to be here to anyone save those of us who already know. That would be me, my sons Jamie, Ruiri and Liam and of course our dear Morag. It shall remain our secret.”

  Sinead nodded in agreement. “You have my word, Sir.”

  She had no intention of telling more people about her journey than those who already were in on her intrigue. It would do none of them good to have it out in the open for the rest of the clan to know or for that matter, for the rivals that wish to do harm to MacCollum.

  Caleb then said, “I will need a word further with my son but I think ye’ shall find the fare here to yer’ liking. Now that ye’ are up and about, I am certain ye’ have worked up quite an appetite, so Morag will take ye’ to the hall to dine.”

  Sinead had almost forgotten that moments ago she had felt quite hungry, but at the mention of food, her stomach suddenly seemed to come to life and she felt it grumble at the possibility of getting something to eat. How long had it been since she had eaten those granola bars in the Cloister library? It seemed like a lifetime ago.

  Morag went to Sinead and held out her hand. Even though her leg throbbed badly, she was not going to lean on the frail old woman who needed the aid of a staff to walk, so she stood up and put her hand into the cool fingers of the castles’ chatelaine. As she walked toward the doorway, where Jamie still stood with his arms crossed over his chest, Sinead noticed that he watched her every move. It was true, there was distrust in his eyes and possibly even anger, but there was something more. There was a simmering heat that Sinead could almost feel and it sent a tremor right through her as she got closer to him. As she and Morag tried to pass around Jamie, his hand shot out and he grasped her upper arm. It was not forceful enough to cause her pain, but it definitely made her stop in her tracks. Morag dropped her hand and waited. It seemed young Jamie wanted to say something to her ward and far be it for her to interfere with the workings of the pull of souls.

  Sinead raised her eyes to Jamie’s and she felt an electrical current charge through her flesh at his touch. Suddenly, she thought, she could not tear her eyes away, even if she wanted to. As his gaze seemed to delve deep into her very soul, a thousand moments seemed to break apart the years that separated their two worlds. In that brief millisecond, there was no difference and Sinead wondered if Jamie felt it too. Finally, after what seemed like an endless eternity, Jamie broke their trancelike reverie and he simply asked, “Why did ye’ come here, lass?”

  Sinead raised herself up on her toes and she placed a soft kiss on Jamie’s cheek and she said, “To save you, Jamie.”

  She broke from his grasp and took Morag’s arm to go toward the hall, but the fluttering in her stomach suddenly made any idea of eating the furthest thing from her mind.

  Chapter 20

  As dawn’s first rays cast pink hues on the newly fallen snow, Jamie made his way to the sheepfold to tend to the lambs and ewes. He needed to see how they fared during the storm the past night had wrought upon them. He was certain that even in the froth of the blizzard, his ovine charges had fared better than he, himself, had. He had tossed fitfully all night, barely even sleeping at all.

  He knew that Sinead was tucked warmly in his bed and no matter how he tried, he could not get her out of his mind. Nor could he stop imagining how the softness of her lips on his cheek had left an indelible mark that he could almost still feel. As he finished feeding the animals, he chided himself. It was one chaste kiss! For the love of all things holy, why the hell did his face still burn as if her kiss had branded him? He thought again of plunging his face into the snow to cool himself down and to bring him back to his senses for surely he had lost his mind to be so tormented by the strange woman’s peck upon his cheek.

  The thing was, that even if he tried to deny it, Jamie knew that it was not just the way it felt when she reached up to kiss him. It was her words before he lips touched his cheek; that she had come to save him. Why would she do that? What did his life matter to a woman like her; a blasted MacDougal woman who believed she had somehow fallen through time to be with him, at that! Then there was the matter of her eyes. When she looked at him, he could barely turn his gaze away. It was ridiculous. He was a grown man who had bedded enough women to not feel like a young lad with his first taste of lust.

  Perhaps it was that she was just quite odd and that oddness intrigued him. That must have been it. She was like a strange peculiarity that he needed to discover. Nothing more than a new plaything to trifle away the time! Yet even as he tried to convince himself of those very thoughts, he knew it was more than that. Yes, she was different; yes she was the most strange woman he had ever met; but strange or no, she was also the most beautiful thing he had ever set his eyes upon. There was no denying how much he actually wanted her. Perhaps if he bedded her, he would be able to get past the abnormal hold she had on him.

  Nay, I canna’ taste her. She does nay belong here and I must nay forget above all, she is a MacDougal. Even if she is as she says, once MacDougal’s blood runs through her veins, she can only ever hate MacCollum. Even this thought sat uneasily in Jamie’s reasoning because she did not act like she hated him. Her eyes bespoke of a burgeoning fire of her own. Aye, she wanted him. That was one thing Jamie was certain of. It was easy to see that it was as if she devoured him when her eyes beheld him. She was not afraid to meet his glances. There was none of the coquettish looks that maids were known for; nay. She boldly assessed him just as assuredly as he had done her. In front of me own da’, too! Normally, Jamie may have found that behavior shameless, but for some strange reason with Sinead MacDougal, he did not.

  Jamie patted the head of a wee lamb and saw that the feeding troughs were full. He would have to melt some snow to fill the sheep wells because most of their drinking water had frozen solid during the night. Aye, there was much to do and Jamie could ill afford to waste the precious hours of daylight whiling away the moments with thoughts of Sinead. Besides, maybe where she came from, she was used to staying in bed on cold days and so he probably would not have to see her until the evening meal was being set out. Even then, he could lose himself amid the crowd and not have to worry about running into her. One thing was certain; Jamie MacCollum knew he had definitely better stay away from the likes of Sinead MacDougal if he were to keep his wits about him.

  Jamie set out to melt enough snow to water his sheep. It took his mind off of kisses and glances from the guest now residing within his home. Despite him wishing her to be his hostage of sorts, his father had made it plain that she was a welcomed visitor and far be it for Jamie to defy Caleb. All his brothers knew better than that.

  Jamie began to pile snow onto a sack cloth and he shoveled it into the caldron he had set upon a tripod above a small fire. He did not want to make the water boil, else it would soon turn to vapor but he needed to melt it down so his flock would have enough to drink. He was used to this chore for the winters were long in that part of the Highlands and the spring thaw was months away. While some men would sneer at such a menial task, especially to that of a first-born son of a powerful laird, Jamie actually found solace in the work. There were plenty of men around the keep that were employed to do just such tasks, but Jamie felt great satisfaction in the tending of his sheep. He had devised ways to cultivate the wool and it had become sought after throughout much of the neighboring lands. Since the wool trade had brought greater larder to his clan, Jamie took
pride in the care of the sheep that provided the means for the trade. Besides, the work always cleared his mind when he was troubled and though he would not admit it, there was much that was occupying his thoughts these days; the very least was the MacDougal threat that now lay in his bed.

  ⌘⌘⌘⌘⌘⌘

  Sinead had risen early. Her leg felt amazingly well considering it had been nearly skewered with an arrow. Maybe she wouldn’t be able to run but she sure as hell could take a brisk morning walk before too many people were up and about. Although, she supposed many were already performing their tasks. The sun had filtered through the narrow window in Jamie’s room and Sinead woke to a new day in a strange land and an even stranger time. She padded to the seeded glass portal and looked out upon the vast rolling hills blanketed in white for as far as the eye could see. Far in the distance, a loch lay frozen in crystalline beauty. Sinead thought it was the most beautiful sight she had ever seen. She could not wait to get out there and explore the still pristine world that lay buried in the rich snow. Sinead was taken with how oddly silent it was despite the fact that the keep housed many people and the outlying buildings were filled with those who performed the necessary duties of running a castle. Jamie’s room faced away from the outer bailey and the only view Sinead could see was the immense terrain that led toward the loch, which still sparkled, though it seemed frozen solid.

  Sinead did some cursory stretches to warm her muscles as well as to try out the injured one on her thigh. It was still sore, but she could live with it. Pulling up her nightgown, or chemise, as it was called; she inspected the bandaging that had been put in place by Morag. The gash did not weep, which was a good sign. The last thing Sinead needed was an infection with no way to get antibiotics. She pealed back the fabric wrapped around her thigh and looked at the cut. Though it was scabbed, it had minimal puckering and it looked in fairly good shape. Sinead tightened the cloth and moved it back in place to keep her leg covered. It probably would not even leave much of a scar. Sinead looked about Jamie’s room and wondered where he had spent the night. Probably in some wench’s arms, she thought with distaste. She did not know why that would bother her, for she did not know anything about the man, but the thought of Jamie having a tumble with a castle wench left a nasty taste in her mouth.

  She needed to run; or at the very least walk briskly. It would do her a world of good and she could put images of Jamie having sex with someone out of her mind. Glancing around the room, which was still quite dim, Sinead noticed that her jeans were folded and left on top of the chest that pressed up against the foot of the enormous bed. Her sweater was there, as well, but Sinead knew that it would not be wise to wear those around the keep, so she pulled on her jeans and slid into another long gown that had also been left for her. It was an unadorned simple one in a dark indigo that almost looked like denim. She expected it to feel rough but again, she was surprised at the fine hand of the garment. The sleeves were not bell-like, as they had been on the other dress, but fitted tightly with lacing on the underside of her forearms. They descended past her wrists and flared just over her hand below her thumbs. Despite the simplicity of the gown, Sinead felt like a princess in it, even with her jeans on underneath. She rather liked the way it felt to wear this attire. She thought, “I think I could get used to flouncing around in gowns. Probably not great for running in, but my legs are not tangled up in the fabric, like I thought it would be.”

  Sinead wasn’t sure why she was even considering getting used to anything in the Middle Ages. She needed to get back home, didn’t she? Jamie was not the man for her. As delicious as he was to look at, he was going to be the laird of the clan someday and he needed to be with a woman who would understand his ways and his kin’s needs. He needed a medieval woman; someone who was like him. There was no point in perpetuating the fantasy even for a moment. Sinead did not want to think that for some reason he had called to her from the pages of history. That very reason was why she was here. With a frustrated sigh, Sinead also wondered at the manuscript. Morag had alluded to her actually having been the one who penned it. “That’s impossible!” This thought was said out loud. Sinead needed to work her legs and get some air. She took the cloak and settled it on her shoulders. It was warm, but it was heavy and Sinead really wanted to clear her mind with a walk. It was bad enough that she would be dragging the train of the gown through the snow. She did not want to add the heavy woolen cloak to the mix, so she carefully unfolded the fly plaid. She looked at it for a moment and felt the pride of the clan with each warp and weft of the woven fabric. She knew she shouldn’t really wear it, but seeing how early it was, she really did not think she would encounter too many people on her walk. Sinead wrapped the long plaid over her shoulders and looped it around her neck like a huge scarf. This way, if she wanted to pull it over her head like a hood, she could if she found her ears getting cold.

  She let herself out of Jamie’s room and she made her way down through the still mostly quiet castle. There were some people about and she heard hushed voices coming from what she imagined were the kitchens. Surely the cooks had quite the task to feed everyone in the place and Sinead imagined that they had to start early just to see to all the preparations.

  At the thought of the wonderful meal she had had last night, Sinead’s mouth watered. The food was beyond fresh and the flavors seemed enhanced without the preservatives that had become the norm in her world. Even the water tasted sweeter. She could use a good cup of coffee, but other than that, everything she had tried was delicious. She would look forward to something wonderful for breakfast once she returned from her walk.

  Sinead expected someone to stop her as she ventured out into the bailey just outside the main doors leading into the keep, but no one accosted her so she carefully stepped onto the stone steps, knowing they would be icy at best. Her sneakers were not great in the snow, but Sinead certainly could not wear those delicate leather slippers. Besides, they didn’t have snow plows and so Sinead didn’t even know how deep the snow was. She took a breath and she felt the cold crystalize in her lungs. She pulled the fly plaid tighter about her shoulders and felt warm enough, amazingly. She held her gown away from her feet by wrapping it around the fingers of both her hands. It helped to keep her from tripping and it acted like mittens, in a way. It was quite a bit colder than it had been in New York, but Sinead was undeterred. The air felt pure and fresh, despite the stables being nearby. Everything seemed pristine and untouched. Sinead walked toward the outer buildings and wondered if the gates leading out of the keep would be opened.

  As she was passing one of the larger structures, she saw Jamie dragging what looked like a canvas drop cloth piled with snow and a tiny little lamb was at his heels. He spoke to it like it was a puppy and he continued dragging the heavily loaded sheet toward a wrought iron kettle dangling from a tripod over a pit where a fire burned. The smoky vapor rising from it wafted toward Sinead and tickled her nostrils; actually causing her to sneeze. Jamie stopped pulling the canvas and looked toward the woman. The little lamb bleated softly, trying to get Jamie to notice it. He glanced down and scratched it’s head and then stood up, staring at the image before him.

  She looked beautiful with her hair loose about her shoulders in thick brown waves. Her cheeks were tinged rosy from the cold and his heart swelled in his chest at seeing her don his woolen plaid. It was draped about her shoulders and it made her look like a Celtic winter goddess, as the dark indigo of her gown stood out vivid against the stark white snow scape.

  All at once, they both blurted out “What are you doing?”

  As they both started to answer, Sinead defaulted and said, “After you.”

  “I was tendin’ my lambs. They need water and their drinkin’ wells are frozen.”

  “Oh. Can I help?”

  “Nay. T’is man’s work.”

  Sinead made a face and Jamie thought he saw her roll her eyes. She may have even stuck out her tongue, like a bratty child. It made him want to laugh.
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br />   Speaking of laughing, Sinead could not get the image of the little lamb tottering after the big burly Highland beast like a lap dog out of her mind. It was comical.

  “Ye’ dinna’ answer me, lass. What are ye’ doin’?”

  “I was going for a walk. I didn’t expect anyone to be out so early.”

  “I thought ye’ would be lyin’ abed at least till….”

  With her hands now fisted on her hips, she said, “What? Do you think all women are lazy things? Did you think I would be lounging about till noon?”

  Jamie tossed a mound of snow into the heated caldron and brushed the frost from his hands. “I dinna’ know, to be certain. I dinna’ know what women from yer’…yer’ world do.”

  “My world? So you believe me, then? I mean about being from another time?” Sinead let her hands drop, causing her skirts to fall back down over her legs. She rubbed her fingers and blew into her hands. Damn, she wished she had her favorite pair of fluffy mittens. They must have mittens in this time, didn’t they? They had gloves; for Jamie was wearing heavy leather ones that cuffed over his forearms. Jamie went to Sinead and took her hands into his own. He rubbed them for her and said, “T’is too cold for a lass to be wanderin’ about without a cloak or boots. Those shoes will surely cause yer’ toes frostbite.”

  He had noticed that she had donned her tight fitting trews under his sister’s gown. They were almost the same color of her garment, but Jamie noticed it. Hell, he noticed everything about her.

  “Now you are avoiding my question. You believe me?”

  With his eyes focused on her hands encased in his own, he said, “I dunna’ want to believe ye’, but I feel that ye’ are either mad or ye’ are tellin’ me the truth. I dunna’ want to think ye’ are mad.”

  Taking his hands up to her lips, Sinead kissed his gloved fingers and said, “Thank you.”