After the Storm

by Tia Isabella

  “So you are hoping you will have your pick of men and be able to wed for love?” Maya chuckled at Lena’s telling blush. “Do not concern yourself over it, Lena. I will speak to Thomas on your behalf when the time comes. If it’s within my power to sway him, you will marry whomever you want. I promise.”

  Lena grinned at her. “I knew ye would understand, milady. Naught but goodness ha’ ye brought tae our clan.”

  Maya glanced away. “You exaggerate.”

  “Nay milady, never.”

  Maya turned her back to Lena and resumed the task of brushing out her wet hair before the warm fire. She wasn’t at all accustomed to people carrying on about her and praising her every word. She supposed that she would have to get used to it if she was going to remain here because that’s how this culture chose to operate. Still, all the undeserved flattery tended to make her feel downright…well, weird.

  “Aren’t ye excited, milady?”

  Maya turned around in her seat again. “About what?”

  Lena giggled. “Yer wedding, milady!”

  She smiled. “Of course I’m excited!” And then under her breath she muttered, “but I’m also a little nervous.”

  Maya thought at first that Lena hadn’t heard her confession, but she was proved wrong on that score as the girl prattled on about all the reasons she should be excited instead of nervous. “…and after ye speak yer vows then we shall ha’ the feast of all feasts! Cook shall prepare more dishes than ever ye ha’ seen and there will be dancing and laughter all night. Even Harold the Sotted will sing fer ye! I ken that…”

  “Harold the Sotted?” Maya interrupted. “Who is that?”

  Lena put down her sewing and flew over to Maya in excitement. She took the silver comb from Maya’s hand and began brushing out her hair for her. Maya grinned. Lena was so sweet and eager to please. She couldn’t help but to fall in love with the girl.

  “Harold the Sotted is minstrel tae the MacGregor, milady. He will sing many tunes for ye and the laird in honor of yer wedding. ‘Tis always so exciting when he sings.” Lena sighed, a dreamy, faraway sound in her voice. “His ballads are so lovely. I hope tae be one of the comely women he sings of one day.”

  Maya shook her head and chuckled. “But why is he called Harold the Sotted?”

  Lena giggled, causing two perfect little dimples to appear on either cheek. “He takes tae his cups o’er much, milady.”

  Maya laughed. “So in other words, Lena dearest, you are telling me that the village drunk will be singing ballads at my wedding?”

  Lena giggled again and nodded. “Pray dinna take offense tae him, milady. He’s old and unlikely tae change. But his tunes are lovely, just wait and see.”

  Maya’s lips curled wryly. Medieval wedding receptions were infamous for the bawdy jests and sexual innuendoes that accompanied them as it was. How much bawdier would it get having Harold the Sotted singing at her wedding? This, she grinned, should prove to be interesting.

  Chapter 13

  The sound of swords clashing together in the yard drew Thomas’s curiosity. Practice had ended over an hour ago, so there was no justifiable reason for fighting to still be taking place. The laird walked over the battlements to get a view of who was sparring below. He came to an abrupt halt when he found his quarry.

  Dugald?

  Thomas raised an inquisitive brow and watched.

  Dugald was fighting a young lad who had been sent by his father to be trained for battle by the MacGregor. From atop the battlements, Thomas could see that the lad looked fiercely frightened. His eyes were rounded and he was sweating profusely.

  “Swing harder!” Dugald commanded as he threw another fierce blow. “Ye will die do ye fight like a wench in battle!”

  Thomas grew irritated with Dugald in an instant. This lad had been to the keep for scarcely a fortnight. Dugald knew better than to expect the lad to fight as a seasoned warrior in such a short amount of time. That would take years, not days. Thomas decided that he had watched enough. “Dugald!” he bellowed from atop the battlements.

  Dugald called a halt to the spar then turned around and looked up at him. “Aye?”

  “Ye will send the lad tae the hall for his supper and wait fer me in the lower bailey. I would speak with ye afore the evening meal.”

  Dugald scowled but relented, knowing he had no choice but to yield. “Aye, my lord.”

  A few minutes later, Thomas found Dugald pacing the lower bailey, his disposition as surly as ever. “So,” he demanded, still irritated by his commander-at-arms foolishness, “what in the bluidy hell was that aboot? What did ye think tae prove by beating up on a lad barely removed from his mother’s skirts?”

  Dugald stopped his pacing and confronted Thomas. “He wasn’t paying attention during instruction, my lord. I was seeing tae it that he would from now on.”

  Thomas knit his eyebrows together and glared at Dugald. “The lad looked like he was doing a fine job of guarding yer blows tae me. In order tae do so, he must ha’ been paying attention tae ye just fine. Mayhap ye should think up another lie tae tell me.”

  Dugald grimaced. Never in his life had the MacGregor accused him of lying. And the worst part of it was, he realized, what he spoke was nothing but the truth. He had picked a fight with the lad. And for no good reason. He sighed, averting his gaze to the ground. “I am sorry, Thomas. I will apologize tae the lad. I never would ha’ harmed him, though.”

  Thomas nodded with a grunt. “I believe ye, but I think ye better tell the lad that. He needs tae trust his betters or he willna trust us enough tae learn from us. Do ye ken?”

  “Aye.”

  “Good.”

  Dugald stood, silently watching the leaves on the ground scatter about. He knew the MacGregor was eyeing him, wondering what had happened to the control of his commander.

  Dugald said nothing and neither did Thomas. They both stood there, as silent as two monks who had taken their vows. At last, too weary to continue on under such close scrutiny, Dugald sighed and confessed all. “She ignores me, my lord.”

  Thomas’ eyebrows shot up, at first unable to catch his meaning. When finally he did, the laird’s lips curved into a grin and before long he was laughing so hard he could barely stand.

  “Ye needn’t laugh, Thomas. ‘Tis no’ that funny.” Dugald’s black look bordered on insolence, but instead of angering the laird as it should have, it made him bellow even harder.

  Thomas swiped at the tears in his eyes as he tried to regain his composure. He noticed at once that the men who were happening by, unaccustomed as they were to seeing the MacGregor smile let alone laugh, were throwing him concerned looks. ‘Twas as if they feared him daft. For some odd reason, that notion made Thomas laugh again. Ah, ‘twas the Lady Maya’s doing. She probably was making him daft.

  “I think it amusing indeed that only a fortnight ago this conversation was aboot my black mood instead of yer own. ‘Twas ye that was fancied by my scowls then, do ye no remember?”

  Dugald folded his arms across his chest as he prepared to concede the obvious. “Aye. By the saints, aye.”

  Thomas grinned. “It canna be so bad as that. Mayhap ye ha’ offended the lady or hurt her tender feelings. Mayhap ye should apologize.”

  Dugald frowned. “Ye are a fine one tae talk, Thomas. Ha’ ye apologized yet tae the Lady Maya for the scene ye forced us tae subject her tae yestereve?”

  Thomas’s superior grin vanished in an instant. He glowered at Dugald for reminding him of his own precarious position within his keep. Hell, Maya wasn’t speaking to him either. “That is different, Dugald,” he concluded with irritated conviction, “leastways, lairds dinna apologize. No’ even tae the woman they are tae wed.”

  Dugald snorted and slapped Thomas on the back. “Good luck in bringing our future mistress around tae seeing things yer way. I think yer bed will know many cold nights, my friend.” Now it was Dugald who was grinning and Thomas who was scowling.

  “I am glad tae see that ye ar
e in a fine mood again Dugald, but no’ verra happy that ‘tis at my expense.”

  Dugald laughed. “’Tis no’ at yer expense, Thomas. I am merely placated by the fact that I am no longer the only one around here in a dark mood.”

  Thomas grunted. At least he had made somebody happy.

  * * * * *

  Maya and Sara sat next to each other at the table in the great hall, both of them feeling irritated. Maya was seated on Thomas’s left, Sara was seated at Maya’s left, and Dugald sat across the table from Sara at Thomas’s right. ‘Twas the most unhappy looking foursome that Argyle had beheld since…well…since ever.

  Sara was still angry at Dugald for failing to propose marriage to her and Maya was churning with anger over the events that had taken place in front of a goodly number of MacGregors the night prior. Sara had been in her bedchamber moping when the incident had occurred, so Maya was now explaining to her what had happened. She told the tale in Tampa English, all but daring Thomas to demand that she revert her speech to Gaelic.

  “I still cannot believe it, Sara. All I did was go for a walk around the grounds because I was curious as to what it looked like. I was going to ask you to come, but you didn’t appear to want company at the time. So I left by myself and strolled down to the village, introducing myself to the people there and whatnot.”

  “Really?” Sara perked up at that. “You should have invited me. I would like to go the next time.”

  Maya nodded. “It was very interesting. You would get a kick out of it. And the people were quite friendly. There was one man I met there named Hamish. He turned out to be the guy that fainted when we mysteriously materialized on the hillside. As it happens, he’s not a bad guy. He was embarrassed about his fainting, obviously, but I made him feel much better when I suggested that it probably happened due to the heat.”

  Sara arched one black brow. “But it was shivering cold when we got here.”

  Maya shrugged. “I know. I was just trying to spare his feelings. And it worked. He was satisfied with that explanation. At any rate, I am digressing… So there I am, chatting with the villagers and having a good ole time, when all of a sudden I hear the pounding of horse’s hooves coming from over the hill and into the valley.”

  Sara shook her head in disgust. She had a feeling that she knew where this tale was going and as pissed off as she currently was with the male species in general, she would no doubt cast as grave a light on Thomas’s actions as Maya had.

  “I look up and who do I see?” Maya waved her hands in the air in frustration, causing Thomas and Dugald to grumble. They had no idea what her words meant, but they had a feeling they weren’t kind. “I see Robin Hood and his Merry Jackasses riding toward me like ten men possessed!”

  Sara shook her head and shot a scathing look at Thomas and Dugald. The men frowned, their suspicions that Lady Maya was talking about last night’s events confirmed.

  “So I wave at Thomas, thinking he has come to join me,” Maya continued, spouting her Tampa English in a tone that suggested she was sorely unhappy. “I have this idiotic smile on my face the entire time, happy as I was to see him. He rides up, with Dugald and his men in tow, and begins shouting and cursing at me at the top of his lungs in front of half of the village!”

  Sara gasped. “He didn’t!”

  Maya shook her head emphatically. “Yes, he most certainly did.” She reached for her best friend’s comforting hand. “Oh Sara, I’ve never been more embarrassed. And from the way that he pulled me up onto his horse and shoved me in front of him, you would think I was an escaped prisoner instead of the woman who’s to be his wife!”

  Sara clucked her tongue. “That’s terrible. He should be ashamed of himself.”

  Maya snorted. “Yes he should, but he’s not. And the worst of it is, I still don’t know what it is that I supposedly did wrong!”

  Thomas stabbed a piece of pheasant and shoved it into his mouth with his dagger. ‘Twas plain to the eye that Maya still hadn’t forgiven him for embarrassing her last eve in front of the clansmen. He frowned, vexed beyond caring. What’s a little embarrassment when it was her life that was at stake?

  Of course, he had to remind himself, Maya didn’t know that her life was in danger. She wasn’t aware of Robert’s lust, nor of his desire to claim her. Until the man was found and killed, he wouldn’t let her go anywhere without him.

  Thomas sighed. The simple truth of it was that he couldn’t bear the thought of losing Maya when it had taken him thirty-five years to find her. Mayhap he should take his own advice and apologize to her, but it angered him to no end that it should be necessary to do so. Maya should always ask for permission afore she does anything, goes anywhere, speaks to anyone. She is his, he reasoned, and therefore his to command.

  Thomas peered at Maya as he stabbed a wedge of cheese with his dagger. By the saints, but he would give away a king’s ransom in gold to magically be able to understand Tampa English right now! ‘Twas obvious his lady was voicing displeasure with him to the Lady Sara.

  Mayhap he should force the friends apart for a sennight or so, leaving Maya no one to voice her dissatisfactions to except himself. He frowned. Nay, that ‘twould do no good and would only serve to set his lady further against him. This business of being an understanding man was exasperating.

  “Lady Maya, I would speak tae ye after the meal. We will take a walk together and ye will smile. I would see no more scowling this day.” Thomas inclined his head toward her, letting her know that the subject was not up for discussion.

  Apparently Maya didn’t agree. “Oh will we, mighty laird?”

  Thomas frowned at the inflection she had placed on the word mighty. Did he not know better, he would say the woman had scoffed him. “Aye. And furthermore, Lady Sara will speak tae Sir Dugald. No more tantrums will be abided in this keep.”

  Dugald grunted, obviously pleased by Thomas’s command. Sara scowled, obviously feeling just the opposite.

  Argyle cleared his throat, then flashed a smile at Maya, hoping to distract all involved parties. “Milady, ye are tae be wed on the morrow. Naught but happiness should ye feel this eve.”

  Maya glowered at Argyle, then stopped herself. After all, it wasn’t his fault that her soon-to-be husband was an arrogant, rotten tempered, tyrannical, bellowing autocrat. She wanted to tell Thomas to his face what she thought of him, but couldn’t for the life of herself figure out how to translate all of that into Gaelic. She flicked her gaze to her trencher, absently toying with her food. “That’s if I marry him,” she muttered to no one in particular.

  Maya looked up in surprise at the startled gasps that her words had caused. Thomas slammed his fist onto the table, inducing ale to splash over the sides of several tankards. “Ye go tae far!” he roared, a murderous expression in his eyes.

  No, Maya thought, she hadn’t. She had, however, had enough. She was going back to the twenty-first century if she had to wander the hillside until she was eighty-years-old waiting for the next set of black clouds to happen by. To hell with Thomas! To hell with Lady M and history! He had deserved that remark. She was tired of being constantly ordered about!

  Maya rose to her feet, picked up her skirts, and ran from the great hall, sprinting at top speed toward the castle doors. Once outside she hopped up onto the first horse she saw and turned him around to face the hillside in the distance.

  A storm was coming. Maybe it was just the storm she needed.

  “Maya!” Thomas howled as he opened the doors to the keep. “Ye will dismount this instant!”

  Her eyes rounded as she hesitated. But a moment later she shook her head in denial and dashed off into the night.

  She knew where she had to go—home. Forget what the historical accounts said, for history was about to change. She was sick and tired of being yelled at as if she were an errant child. She wasn’t going to stay here. The storm would come for her eventually and she would find her way back to the future.

  The fantasy of becoming Thomas’s
wife was a heady one, but the reality was that she couldn’t suppress her nature enough to be the kind of woman he wanted her to be. Docile, compliant, subservient—she was none of those things and knew she never would be.

  As she rode atop the horse, Maya comforted herself with the hope that Thomas couldn’t possibly find her before the storm did. The land was too vast and he’d have no idea where to look first. By the time he did look to the hillside, the storm would have claimed her and she’d be in the twenty-first century sipping on a mocha cappuccino and reading the latest Dara Joy novel. She just wished that thought was as comforting as it should have been.

  “Please lady luck,” she whispered to the fates, not exactly certain what it was she was pleading for, “be on my side.”

  Chapter 14

  Maya dismounted a few minutes later. She took a quick look around to be certain she was alone, then gave the horse a good swat on the backside to get him to run back towards the keep. She had learned the “swat the horse’s ass” move by watching an old rerun of Bonanza and was pleased as punch to see that it really worked. After all, she wouldn’t need a mount where she was going.

  Maya sat down on the ground and waited impatiently for the black clouds to come to her. She wanted to get on with this already, get the show on the road, so to speak. And she wanted it to happen before she had the time to think about it and change her mind.

  She looked around and frowned. The storm she had seen brewing just a few minutes prior appeared to be receding. So much for Lady Luck, she thought grimly.

  Maya raised her knees and circled her arms around them, huddling up to keep the chilly evening air from seeping into her bones.

  And then she thought about Thomas.

  Big mistake.

  She blew out a breath and cursed herself when she realized that she couldn’t keep the tears at bay. They fell and kept right on falling and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it.