by Gill, Tamara
Abby walked over to the roaring fire and warmed herself. She watched the wood burn for a moment before a servant came up to her and bobbed a curtsy.
“Will ye follow me, mistress Cross? Laird MacLeod would like to see ye in the anteroom.”
“Me?” At the girl’s large beckoning eyes, she sighed. “Okay. Show me the way.” The girl visibly relaxed and headed toward a passage behind the main dining table. She hadn’t been in this part of the castle before, and the lower ceiling made her feel a little claustrophobic. The walls were bare, and a lone narrow window stood at the end of the corridor, before they stopped near a door adjacent to it.
The girl gestured to the room, and looking inside, Abby saw Aedan sitting behind a large desk. He was studying some scrolls—one laid out and held open by what looked like smooth rocks.
She entered, but was startled as the door slammed closed. Still, he didn’t acknowledge her presence. Abby narrowed her eyes and looked about the room, instead. The walk to his office had seemed cold and menacing, yet this room was warm and welcoming. Tapestries covered the walls, and being a corner room it housed two windows, allowing plenty of light to enter. A large fire burned in the grate and an assortment of candles sat atop, giving off more light.
The room looked softer compared to the rest of the castle. As this was his domain, did it reflect his personality? She had to concede from what the villagers had said about him he was a fair laird.
“Sit.”
The curt order put to rest the nice thoughts she was having about him. “What’s the magic word?” she taunted, not willing to do what she was told.
“Excuse me?” He did look at her then. Well, maybe look was the wrong word. Glare? Dismiss as an idiot, could come a close second.
Abby would allow him this win. She sat and raised her brows. “Never mind. I don’t expect you to get it.” She paused. “You wanted to see me?”
He studied her a moment, his features unreadable. “I did. I wanted to talk to you about the games next week and what is expected of you. We need ye to be prepared for the questions that will be asked, and ensure you know how to answer them appropriately. I don’t need any trouble brewing between the clans who’ll be meeting here. They’re volatile enough without witchcraft and a time traveling wench making them ill at ease.”
“Wench? Really?” She sighed. “So, what is it you want me to know? Perhaps we ought to start there.”
He pulled out a piece of paper and skimmed it quickly before saying, “You’ll be a family friend from abroad; France, perhaps. That would, at least, explain your strange accent.”
“It’s not strange, it’s American. I thought your sister would’ve explained that to you since she’s the one who brought me here.” Sarcasm laced her tone, and she questioned why he aggravated her so. She wasn’t normally snappy and cross, but he seemed to bring out the worst in her. That he made her nervous, didn’t help. She looked up to him glaring at her again, his piercing green eyes like a beautiful, angry sea.
“I think she may have mentioned that.” He looked back at his paper. “Now—”
“Does your concern over my behavior in front of the clans have anything to do with your sister, Jinny?”
His gaze snapped up. “What do you know of Jinny?”
“Just that she lives away in solitude due to her mistreatment from Clan O’Cain. That they blinded her in some way and threw her away when she was no longer useful.” He regarded her for a moment before leaning back in his chair.
“It will be helpful to keep the visiting clans my allies rather than foes. I’m hoping they’ll stand with me against the O’Cains when the time comes.”
Abby could understand that. She may not like conflict or the outcome it brought with it, but since she also needed many friends in this time, Aedan’s similar need made sense. “I am sorry your sister was treated in such an abhorrent manner and because of it, I can promise I’ll not cause you any harm with the clans. I may not always say or do the right thing, but I’ll try my best.” Abby doubted she’d ever shocked someone more.
“I’ll be grateful to ye, if ye do.” He cleared his throat. “Now, getting back to who ye are in our time, you have no family and know no one here. We’ve never met before your arrival and you’re not married, nor have you ever been. You’re a maiden, and while you’re here, you shall act like all the other young women looking to marry.”
She snorted. “You want me to act like a maiden. Tell me exactly how a maiden acts. Is it different from any other young woman?” Abby smiled, enjoying his discomfort over her questioning. But he was such a by-the-rules, no-nonsense kind of man who really ought to stop worrying so much.
He frowned. “I do not need to instruct ye on the ways of a maiden. You’re a woman, you should know such things.”
“I’m not a simpering miss and even though I promised to behave myself, I’ll not act like a woman without a brain.” At his confusion she added, “I’m not a maiden and haven’t been for a few years, so I won’t act virginal, even if you demand it of me. Do you understand what I’m saying? I’m not going to beg for the attentions of all the Highlanders with skirts—”
“They’re kilts.”
“Whatever. You have another think coming.” She sat back and crossed her arms over her chest. His gaze honed in on that spot and she realized the action made her breasts look ready to bust out of her dress. She folded them onto her lap.
“Are ye telling me you’re not a virgin?”
He looked shocked and not a little repulsed. She smiled. “I’m twenty-two. You do the math.”
He sat back, and she wasn’t sure what he was thinking. He was a man who didn’t give a lot away, and for his role as laird, that was probably a handy trait. She changed tactics. “Are you a virgin, Aedan MacLeod?”
At her question, a flicker of a smile touched his lips. The action made her pause. Over the last few days she’d become used to his scowl, especially around her, but that small smile left her wondering what he’d look like laughing, happy, carefree. His deep green orbs, aristocratic jaw, and perfect nose told her he’d look pretty darn good. She swallowed.
“I am not.”
“Well then,” she said. “Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, perhaps you ought to continue on with what’s important to keep your family safe from the charge of witchcraft.”
He nodded and seemed to shake himself from his thoughts. “Of course. We also need to discuss your role as a member of our clan. Even though we know you’re no lady, you still need to act like one.”
Abigail choked over her words. “What the hell do you mean by that?” She stood and leaned over his desk. “If I’m not mistaken, you’re no gentleman, either. No doubt you’ve pleasured many female servants in many a location, so unless you don’t want to continue tupping as a pleasurable pastime, I’d watch what comes out of your mouth, before your man bits are shoved down your throat.”
He stood and towered over her. She lost some of her nerve, as he made her feel like a dwarf. Bloody tall Scotsman.
“You do not speak like a woman of class.”
His tone fired her blood to boiling. “I think you’re forgetting I didn’t choose to be here. I may have Scottish ancestry, but I’m certainly not what you would term a Scot. Nor am I a lady of a castle. I apologize if I’ve made a mess of your perfect life, but you need to take that problem up with your sister.” Abby paused, taking a deep breath to calm her temper. “I won’t cause any problems, as long as you get me home as soon as you can.”
He slumped back in his chair and rubbed his jaw. “If you can promise me you’ll act the lady, cause no offense to the clansmen coming to stay, and try to look like you’re enjoying my home and hospitality, I’ll apologize for my unkindness.”
“As to that, you’ll apologize now.” His jaw flexed, and she knew he didn’t like being told what to do by a woman.
“I’m sorry,” he said through clenched teeth.
She smiled. “Apology accepted,” sh
e said, sitting back down.
...
Aedan took a calming breath. The woman was a hoyden and going to be the end of him, literally, if she didn’t start to cooperate. What his sister had been thinking bringing the lass here was beyond him.
Abigail Cross was trouble if ever he knew it.
“There are numerous clans coming for the games. Each clan’s laird and close family members will be housed in the castle for the duration of their stay. We will have shelter erected for their clansmen near the fields where the games will be taking place. I’ll leave the ladies of these great houses in Gwen and your capable hands.”
“Won’t the games themselves be entertainment enough?” she asked.
“Must you fight me on everything I say? Why can you not entertain some women?” He ran a hand through his hair and wondered what it was exactly his sister had seen in the lass that would suit him.
Aye, she was bonny, there was no doubt about that, with her rich dark strands of hair that fell about her shoulders. Her eyes were the same color, giving her an earthy appeal. Her skin was flawless, not a freckle graced her nose or cheeks, unlike so many of the Scottish lasses. Her figure wasn’t anything to dismiss, either. The strange trews she’d arrived in, tight-fitting across her ass, had made him want to run a hand across her soft flesh and squeeze.
He shifted on his chair and frowned. The sooner he procured a wife, the better. It had been too long between lasses as it was. He should probably find a willing miss…
Abigail’s words about bedding wenches in different locations turned his gut in pleasurable guilt. Not that he’d ever admit it to her, but yes, he’d indeed slept with some, and no doubt would again. As a man, he was permitted such activities. It was the way of the times. She’d soon be gone and his life would return to normal.
“Fine. I’ll do everything you ask, but on one condition.”
“And that is?” Her jaw jutted out, and he noted her lips. Supple, nicely shaped, a lovely shade of—
“That you return to me my phone and promise me that the moment your sister is able to do so, that I’m returned home.”
He nodded, meeting her eyes. “We’ve already agreed on this, and you have my word. As for the strange device you came with, I think it is best that I keep that until you depart. To be found with something so odd would only bring forth questions neither of us wish to answer.”
“I will keep it hidden, I promise, but please return it to me. It was fully charged when I left, and if you’re interested I could show you a little of my time, give you a glimpse of my life. Please, give it to me.”
Aedan didn’t wish to hand it over. Hell, never had he seen anything as odd as the metal object that she’d arrived with, and it was a dangerous move to allow her to keep it. But, mayhap, if he did give way on this one rule, she would stop being so prickly toward all that he asked of her. “Very well, I will give ye the object, but be mindful, I will take it back, break it into a million pieces, if I see it out around my people. Do ye understand me, lass?”
She held out her hand, nodding. “I understand perfectly.”
Aedan stood, gesturing toward the door. “I will bring it to your room later today.”
“You can’t give it to me now?”
“’Tis hidden, and I do not wish for ye to know where. So, as I stated, I shall bring it to your room, later.”
She stood and walked toward the door. “Fine, but I’ll be waiting, just so you know.”
He stopped himself from smiling at her audacity. “I’m assuming by the fact you’re about to walk out the door that this conversation is over?”
She looked confused and then laughed. He didn’t want to admit what that carefree, larger-than-life laugh did inside his chest.
“Yes. Unless there is something else you wish to discuss?”
“No, there is not. You may go.”
She waved over her head and was gone. He walked over to the window, looked down on the castle courtyard, and watched as their head cook, Mrs. Turner, dug in the garden for herbs and vegetables for the evening meal. He wasn’t fond of Abigail Cross, and the sooner his sister could send her back to her home and rightful time, the better. She wasn’t like the women he knew. Too opinionated and strong willed. She was a woman who could get herself into all sorts of trouble.
Trouble that he would have to settle. Hopefully, not with a sword.
Chapter Seven
Abigail couldn’t do it. She adjusted the bow and tried to find a more comfortable way of shooting the arrow. There wasn’t one. Her arm didn’t seem strong enough to pull back the tight string.
“It isn’t working.” She held it at her side and looked to Gwen who stood beside her, giving her instruction.
“We may have to help build up your arm muscle, but this is a woman’s bow. I’m sure you must be holding it wrong. Here let me show ye again.”
She sighed and again watched Gwen lift her own bow and demonstrate how to use it. Abby raised hers and tried to copy her actions. “Maybe I’ve been given a bow that is supposed to be used by a male?”
Gwen chuckled. “You haven’t. Now keep trying.”
I am she wanted to scream. Instead, with all her might, she pulled hard on the string and let it go. It worked that time. Now all she had to manage was placing an arrow in there and firing it off toward the target. Easy. Yeah, right.
During the past week, Gwen had been showing her all different types of activities that she would have to attempt with the ladies who were to visit for the games. Today’s lesson on archery wasn’t a favorite.
Nor was yesterday’s when she’d had to learn the basics of stitching. The whole castle now knew never to ask her to fix a garment. Abby shook her head at the irrationality of it all, and most of all, how silly it was that she’d been upset at not being able to do the basic chores that were expected of these women.
She was all for women’s liberation, but to know how to sew, even a hem, would be a handy ability, even in her own time. She couldn’t even stitch in a straight line. It was easy to say she wouldn’t win that competition.
“Right, now let’s add an arrow and see how ye go.”
Abby grabbed one from the small leather satchel at her feet and placed it against the bow, threading the nock into the string. She pulled back as far as she could, trying to keep the arrow against the bow and not veering off into the air.
“Use your fingers to guide the arrow and keep it in its correct position before firing. Now look at the bullseye and let go.”
She concentrated on her mark, pulled back, and set the arrow free. It flew through the air and landed a few meters in front of her. “I suck at this. Tell me again why I have to learn archery? Can’t I just hand the ladies a bow?”
Gwen chuckled. “It’ll be fun. And think, no one else in your time can say they took part in a Highland Games in the seventeenth century.”
“That’s true.” Abby grabbed another arrow and tried again. She managed a little farther than the last time, but still she didn’t seem to have the knack for the sport. At this point in time, she didn’t seem to have a knack for much at all. If only they could see what a whiz she was in front of a computer, or how fast she could text. Now there she had skill.
“Will your brother really choose a wife based on how well she does with these different activities? In my time, women do everything that a man can do. There are no limits to our greatness.”
Gwen laughed and turned to look at her. “What do you mean?”
“I mean we do all sorts of things.” Abby lowered her arrow and turned to face Gwen. “Most women will marry for love, not for stature or to increase a family’s connections, although, you know, there are always some who still do that. But most women want someone who’s kind, understanding, supportive, and compassionate, inside the bedroom and out.”
“That’s a lot of qualities.” Gwen grabbed her flask of water and took a sip, holding it out to offer her some.
Abby shook her head, not thirsty at the
moment. “I suppose it is, but why would you saddle yourself with someone you don’t know or can’t stand? Women are independent in my time. We work to earn money. We can be anything we want, be it a doctor, lawyer, farmer, or horse wrangler.”
“Your era sounds so wonderful. I’m glad with the passing of time it’s changed for women.”
A sense of pride overwhelmed Abby at Gwen’s words. It was good that women were closer to being equals, no longer a commodity to be bartered with between men. Even so, they still had a long way to go with some things.
Gwen fired an arrow, and it pierced the bullseye on the tree. “I wish Aedan would choose a wife in such a way, but he won’t. Both of our parents are dead, but it wasn’t until after father died that he changed. He used to be so carefree—he loved life and had made the most of every day. I’m not sure why he changed, but he became so serious. It was like overnight he changed into someone even I, sometimes, cannot recognize.”
Abby frowned. “I can’t imagine him being so lighthearted. He’s extremely serious all the time.” And a little scary.
“Aye, he is, but once he wasn’t.” Gwen sighed. “And now he’s after the most perfect wife he can find to run this castle and his lands.”
“I wonder why you thought I would make him a suitable match.” Abby sat on the grass and watched Gwen, who continued to fire arrows at the bullseye without trouble. “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but we seem to clash.”
“I’ve noticed, and it still hasn’t changed my opinion of you. You, Abigail Cross, are exactly who my brother needs. He needs a woman who’s not afraid to tell him off, to argue and play with him. He needs to learn to live again, and how is one to do that if the person one marries enables you to stay in the shell you’ve formed around yourself?”
Abby lifted her face to the sun. The day was still young, and lunch would soon be served. The wind whistled through the trees and the clean, fresh air filled her lungs. There was magic in these hills, she was sure of it. For how else could a place so beautiful exist? “I know I’ve been angry with you, Gwen, and I want to apologize for that. Your home, for all of its terrible plumbing, is very beautiful. Especially when one is upwind from the pigs.”