"Oh, of course not. The Fair Folk were, bless their hearts." The girl turned those enormous green eyes to her, a bright smile dancing across her face. "Forgive me, ma'am, but… did you meet them?"
She thought of the strange dream she'd had, the way the figures had glowed on her vision the way the sun did if you looked straight at it… "Sort of," she admitted. "But it was more like a dream than an actual meeting. I don't remember speaking to them, or anything. Just seeing them."
"What did they look like?" the girl all but whispered.
"Glowing figures," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "That was all I could make out."
"You truly are blessed, ma'am," the girl whispered. "And we're so glad to have you here with us, safe and sound. Please – if there's any way at all I can make you any more comfortable, you call for me, day or night, alright? My name's Amelia," she added, flushing a little as she realized she'd omitted an introduction. But Julia could only smile, thoroughly charmed by the girl.
"Nice to meet you, Amelia. I'm Julia."
"Your accent is just like the others," the girl breathed – then flushed, clearly embarrassed over forgetting herself. "I'm sorry, ma'am, I –"
"Don't be." Julia laughed. "I haven't done much travelling outside of my country – it's kind of fun that my accent's a novelty. Yours are a lot of fun, too," she added with a grin. Hadn't that been one of the only redeeming features Galen had to offer? The girl blushed scarlet, but she was clearly pleased with the compliment.
"Well, then, I'll leave you to your breakfast," Amelia said finally, bobbing another curtsy. "You just tell me straight away if there's anything else I can do for you."
And then Julia was alone, sitting on the edge of the bed. There was a fragrant smell coming from the plate and she got to her feet, curious – and was surprised to feel her stomach growl loudly. She was hungrier than she thought, it seemed… well, it had been rather a long time since her trail lunch of a roast beef sandwich composed mostly of leftovers from the night before. Several hundred years, in fact, if you were counting properly… but the thought made her dizzy, so she didn't give it any more room. The platter was loaded with hearty fare – thick slabs of toasted bread with lashings of butter, a couple of greasy but very fresh fried eggs, and some strips of bacon that looked to have been cooked to perfection. Julia had never been much for big breakfasts, but she had to make an exception for this one.
And just as she'd expected, it was utterly delicious. She lost herself in the food, digging in with absolute enjoyment, forgetting for a brief moment where she was, when she was, just what had been happening to her over the last few hours… and when she finally sat back, it was with a surprising amount of peace in her mind. So, she was in medieval Scotland. Well, great. What a brilliant new adventure. Hadn't she been craving a bit of excitement to get her mind off her gross ex-boyfriend? What better way to forget a man than by taking a trip to a time and place where he hadn't even been born yet?
She giggled to herself… then was distracted by another tapping on the door. Amelia was back – and in her arms was a huge bundle of fabric that made Julia's eyes widen. First magic, mystery and faeries… now a brand new dress?
This adventure was getting better and better.
Chapter 10
In the end, it took Amelia a little while to teach a chagrined Julia how to get the gown on. The underclothing was profoundly unfamiliar – she was surprised by just how much scaffolding was involved in getting the dresses to fit right. She had to admit, though, when she smoothed her hands down over the bodice and twirled a little to allow the full skirts to swish about her ankles, she felt like some kind of medieval princess. That was the idea, she supposed. Amelia was gazing at her with approval, nodding proudly at her own handiwork, and Julia smiled at her.
"Thanks so much for helping me. You're a lifesaver."
The girl flushed, but she was clearly pleased with the compliment. "Of course, ma'am. It looks lovely on you," she added with a smile. Looking into the looking glass on the door of the tall wooden wardrobe that stood in the room, Julia couldn't help but agree. Now she wished she'd spent more time when her brother dragged her to renaissance fairs actually trying on a dress or two… but they always seemed so fiddly and complicated, not to mention expensive. Besides, it wasn't as though there were many opportunities to wear a medieval gown.
Well, that wasn't a problem anymore, was it? She grinned to herself, performing another complete twirl… then her smile faded a little. "Amelia? Do you mind teaching me how to take it off as well, just for future reference?"
By the time the dress lessons had concluded, the sun was high in the sky – it must have been close to noon, and though adrenaline had done a good job of carrying her this far, Julia could feel that she was beginning to flag and tire. After all, she'd technically been up all night… hadn't she? Not exactly… it had been mid-afternoon when she'd been snatched away from the hiking trail that was already beginning to feel like a distant dream, so in chronological terms, it was about midnight for her. Definitely bedtime. Then again, she didn't quite feel like it was midnight. Was it possible she'd been awake and conscious for a chunk of time with the Sidhe in their strange world beyond this one? She didn't remember any of it – nothing but a few glimpses of those shining figures…
Amelia took her leave, and Julia undressed, wanting a little more practice with the gown. It all made sense once you'd done it a few times – she wasn't too worried about getting dressed in the mornings, though Amelia had suggested that that had been troublesome for several of the other women, many of whom found it oppressive to be stuck in skirts all the time. She had to admit, she wouldn't mind a pair of trousers or two… but she could wait. For now, she couldn't hold back her yawns… and she was dying to see what the bed was like.
So, she slid in between the sheets, shivering a little at the coolness before the bed began to warm up. Her body relaxed into the soft embrace of the bed and she let her eyes flicker shut, surprised by how tired she really was. It was amazing what a bit of adrenaline could do. But she was safe here – she was warm and dry, well fed, and she had a roof over her head for as long as she needed it. The last of her anxiety faded away as a deep and restful sleep claimed her.
She must have only slept for a couple of hours – the sun was still fairly high in the sky, though it had shifted over to the west when she woke. But she still felt disoriented and bleary, as though she'd had a full ten hours of sleep – rested, but a little sleep drunk. Julia turned over in bed, blinking her eyes to try to bring herself back to consciousness. Definitely not her room in the bed and breakfast, she thought, glancing around. Part of her had been sure that once she fell asleep, she'd realize all of this had been an elaborate dream and wake up in what she was already beginning to think of as her old life…
Julia sat up, yawning widely and wincing as her jaw cracked. Her old life… and her new one. Was she in denial, or something? She just didn't feel that bad about leaving everything else behind. The main thing that prickled at her conscience was her family – her mother and father, her older brother not knowing where she was. Would they find her body, lying on the trails? Or would they have to bury an empty coffin, never knowing exactly where she'd disappeared to out in those woods, assuming that her bones would forever lie in a shallow grave in the Adirondacks… she shivered a little, but then frowned. What was wrong with that, overall? She'd always adored nature – she'd been happier in the woods than the city any day. As resting places went, a national park wasn't too bad. She knew her family would be able to find some kind of closure, at least knowing she died doing what she loved…
Though she hadn't died, had she? She wished she could talk to them, just once… she dug her phone out of the pocket of her pants, hung over the chair by her bed to finish drying, and sighed as she realized how waterlogged it was. But even if it hadn't been, it wasn't as though there'd be any cell phone towers or satellites out there for her to make a call… and even if there were, her parents h
adn't even been born yet, had they? Maybe she could find some kind of way of leaving a message… embroidering it into a tapestry, maybe? Dear mom and dad, you won't believe it but let me tell you where I am… she grinned to herself, feeling a mixture of sadness and amusement.
At any rate – time wasn't really a factor when it came to message-sending. After all, her family didn't exist yet. She had the rest of her life to figure out a way of getting a goodbye to them. Maybe the other women would have some ideas about how to do it – they might have done something similar themselves, if they were truly in the same boat as she was. Perhaps she could add a line to a tapestry, a letter to the future. Dear twenty-first century – you'll never guess where we are… she'd never heard of such a thing being discovered in her own time, but as she was rapidly learning, she wasn't exactly a history buff. Maybe the tapestry had been out there somewhere. Displayed in the Met, maybe, overlooked by her on her visits…
Smiling to herself, she got out of bed and stretched, feeling a lot better after a hearty meal and an afternoon nap. There would be a feast that evening, wasn't that what Laird Donal had said? An actual medieval feast. And she had a new dress to wear – she'd hung it up carefully in the wardrobe, and she pulled the doors open now to admire it. It was as though it had been waiting for her – it was just her color, a soft brown that brought out the bright red of her hair and set off her pale complexion nicely. She couldn't wait to wear it. Would there be dancing? she wondered, picturing herself drifting around a dance floor in the arms of a handsome man. She had no idea how to dance, she realized with dismay. Hopefully, he'd be able to teach her, whoever he was.
Her fated husband, she thought now, grinning a little at that thought. It sounded so silly – these interdimensional beings, beautiful and mysterious, saving her life and bringing her back through time to Scotland… just to play matchmaker? Not that she minded. A bit of supernatural help with her love life was probably exactly what she needed, if her last relationship was anything to go by. But she wished she had a little more information… like exactly who the man was she was supposed to be falling for…
As if prompted by her thoughts, there was a rap on the door – loud, businesslike, nothing like the soft, hesitant tapping that Amelia favored. Blinking, she hastened to pull her jeans on, glad that they were mostly dry now, calling for the visitor to hold on a minute. Then she pushed the door open to find none other than Galen Grant standing there. He'd shed a bit of the armor – did that mean he was off-duty, then, or did he only dress that way when he was out riding through the forest stabbing unarmed men with wicked iron blades?
Chapter 11
"Good afternoon," he said gruffly. "Thought I might check in on you."
"Very kind," she said drily.
"Did I catch you at a bad time?"
"What?" She blinked – then followed his slightly lifted gaze up to her hairline, and frowned, her hands flying to her ponytail. "Oh," she said, grimacing a little as she discovered a veritable bird's nest. It seemed her curly red hair wasn't reacting with particular cheer to being submerged in water, air-dried and then slept on for two hours. "Guess I'll need a comb."
"You may well," Galen said drily. "Is everything to your liking? You're still dressed strangely."
"Yes, well, the gown takes about a decade to put on, and I thought I'd save you from waiting until your first-born child was an old man –"
Was that a laugh he just covered with his hand? "So, you've been given some clothes. Good. You'll have something proper to wear to the feast. Laird Donal is very excited," he said, rolling his eyes. "He's been itching for an excuse to throw a feast. I don't doubt the whole clan will get drunk as Lords."
"Will there be dancing?" she asked, thinking back to her idle daydream of being swept around a dance floor.
Galen shrugged. "Maybe. There's a few of the lads of the Watch who can play. Depends how early they get too drunk to pluck the strings."
"Great," she said, smiling. An awkward silence fell, and she shifted her weight from foot to foot – he was still looking at her, as though waiting for something. "Can I – help? Is there anything you –"
"Just checking in, like I said," Galen said brusquely. "Making sure you haven't gotten into trouble."
"What trouble could I have gotten into in this room?" she asked drily, gesturing behind her.
"You seem like trouble, that's all. I'll see you tonight," he said gruffly, before she could snap back at him about what he'd said – and with that he was gone, stomping off down the hallway with that disagreeable hunch to his shoulders that was already beginning to irritate her.
Just who did this guy think he was – her keeper, or something? As though finding her in the woods like that had made him responsible for her safety… she frowned. He hadn't found her in the woods. She'd found him. And she'd stopped him from stabbing an unarmed man. Just what had that been about? She wished she'd talked to him more about it – hadn't he said that the green-eyed man was a Sidhe? Weren't the Sidhe their allies? What exactly had been going on out there?
She'd talk to him about it at the feast, she resolved, turning back to her bed. But for now, she needed a little more sleep to take her mind off the irritating guardsman and his grouchy attitude.
In the end, she slept almost until sunset, and when she woke she felt properly rested for the first time. Amelia came to her room not long after, and to her relief the girl had brought a comb, a brush, and more – she helped her braid her hair neatly back, as well as assisting her into her gown. By the time darkness had fallen over the castle, she was feeling very much the part of a medieval lady – she admired herself in the mirror again, twirling back and forth and letting the candlelight dance off her skin.
"You look lovely, ma'am," Amelia whispered.
"What did we talk about?"
"Sorry, ma- Julia! Sorry, Julia," Amelia said, blushing crimson.
Julia was trying to promote a slightly less formal relationship between the two of them… but it was hard going. Amelia seemed hard-wired to call people ma'am. Still, they'd have plenty of time to work on it. It seemed that Amelia was the servant generally assigned to guest quarters – she knew she could develop a friendlier relationship with the girl if she just kept at it.
Amelia disappeared into the corridors, saying something about needing to help with the feast – she'd assured Julia that she and the rest of the servants would be involved later once the majority of the food was served. To her surprise, Galen met her at the top of the spiral staircase. His tangled dark hair had been combed and he was wearing what Julia had surmised was Clan Grant tartan, and to her surprise he looked rather handsome and dashing in his readiness for the feast. He was still a grumpy old sod, though, and she did her best to keep her cool as they descended the spiral staircase together. He felt a lot less like her escort and a lot more like her babysitter for Julia's liking.
But her mind was quickly taken off Galen Grant the Grump when they stepped through the huge, open doors to the castle's dining hall.
For a start, the room was enormous – bigger again than the entrance hall she'd so admired on her way into the castle. Huge high ceilings, bouncing the sounds of countless voices back down to the throngs below – Julia's eyes widened as she stared around the room. Why, there were dozens of people here, if not hundreds – all crowded in together, talking and laughing at groaning tables loaded with stacks of meat. Had the kitchen people really pulled all of this together at such notice? Without so much as a microwave to their name? There was enough food here to serve a small army… which, she supposed, was kind of the point. What was the Watch if not an army?
The tables were long, each of them seating at least a dozen men or more, and she quickly lost count of how many there were. Galen didn't give her any time to count – she felt his hand take her by the forearm, respectful but impatient, and he began to lead her through the throngs. She caught more than a few curious looks from passersby, but it seemed word had spread that there was a newcomer to the
castle, because the majority of the interactions she experienced were positive – people looming up out of the crowd to beam at her and welcome her to Castle Urquhart on behalf of the clan. She must have met a dozen different tartan-clad people on her way to wherever it was Galen was taking her, but names and faces were quickly disappearing into the heady whirl of the feast.
There was dancing, she surmised victoriously on the way across the hall. In the center of the room or thereabouts stood a low raised platform on which several men were fiddling with strange-looking instruments, and in front of them was a space with no tables that was currently crowded by people standing around chatting but would clearly soon become a dance floor. Well, good. She was hungry enough to eat a horse, but a little later, she might just feel the mood strike her to dance… grinning to herself, she allowed Galen to steer her along a little more.
Here, at the far side of the hall, she realized where Galen had been steering the two of them. There was a raised platform here, a few steps leading up to it, and on the platform stood a huge oak table, much like the others in the room but a little longer. A high table, she thought automatically, intuiting that this had something to do with status… and sure enough, Laird Donal himself was sitting at the head of the table. But she wasn't interested in him, or in the various other men sitting at the table – half a dozen of them in total, all in Clan Grant tartan. No – she was interested in the women who sat at the table, all in gowns like hers, all with their eyes riveted to her and looks of identical curiosity and excitement on their faces.
"May I introduce Lady Julia," Galen said, raising his voice to be heard over the general din and clamor of the hall. "Julia, you've met Laird Donal Grant already. Beside him is his lady wife, Anna Grant –"
"No need to be so stuffy," the dark-haired woman at Donal's side said, her eyes flashing with vexation. "If we're doing introductions like this we're going to be here all night. Come, sit!"
Woken By The Highlander: A Scottish Time Travel Romance-Highlander Forever Book 7 Page 5