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Iain said, “Go to yer room, and I will come and get ye later.”
Abby nodded but stayed staring down at the large entrance as Iain leapt down the stairs two at a time.
A man in a green tartan and a bonnet made of the same material talked in hushed tones to Iain and Donal, Iain glancing up at Abby every now and then.
Once the messenger left, Iain ascended the stairs and smiled at Abby. “It seems the MacKinnons won’t be visiting after all.”
“Why?”
“Kenneth MacKinnon sends his regrets. It seems Fiona has run off with the captain of MacKinnon’s guard.”
Abby didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry.”
“Nay, I am glad she found someone else. We wouldna have suited.”
He crooked his arm, and she placed her hand on his forearm as they descended the stairs.
The buzz of voices silenced as Iain and Abby stepped into the great hall. All eyes watched Abigail walk arm in arm with their laird to the slightly elevated front table.
Maeve stood as they approached. She was resplendent in a jade gown, her dark hair coiffured in perfect curls on top of her head. “I am pleased to see you are well rested.”
Abby’s back stiffened when Iain’s sister never smiled at her, but she gave Maeve her most gracious smile in return. “Yes. Thanks.”
A strange look passed between Maeve and Iain as they sat, Iain next to his sister and Abigail on his other side.
The serving people brought out trenchers topped with what might have been duck or some kind of wild fowl.
Everyone in the great hall ate, drank, and laughed merrily.
Abby picked at the food before her, wondering what was going on between Iain and his sister.
Trying to enjoy the festivities, Abby drank the bittersweet wine. As soon as she figured out how to work the time device, she would be gone. Without that fact hanging over her head, she would have been excited by the sounds and sights of the night. Everyone was so friendly, so happy their laird was safe. If she was born of that time, she would have joined in the merriment.
Iain and Maeve spoke of the crops and stock. He joked that a woman of Maeve’s age could not keep his lands and people so healthy, and that she must have had some factor helping her.
Maeve pretended to be offended and slapped him on the shoulder. “You are an oaf, sir. I am more suited to numbers than you ever were.”
Iain laughed. “That’s true. I had no need of the classroom. A laird has to know how to fight, not add and spell.”
Maeve grinned. “Thank goodness you are good at those things naturally, or we would all be in dire straits.” She sipped her wine and then plonked her cup onto the table. “Now that ye are rid of Fiona, we must talk about who ye are to marry. Ye gave Father ye word ye would marry before yer thirty-three, and that’s only weeks away.”
“Aye, but we dinnae have to worry aboot that tonight.”
Abby frowned. He had to marry before his birthday? She looked around the cavernous great hall at all the beautiful women making eyes at him. He wouldn’t have any trouble getting someone to marry him if he had to choose from them, that was for sure, but she supposed he would have to find some other laird’s daughter. From everything he had said, strengthening his clan was the most important thing to Iain.
Once the food stopped coming, the bagpipes started up.
Maeve clapped her hands together. “A reel. How marvelous. Come on, Iain, dance with your sister.”
Giving Abby a longing look, he took Maeve’s arm and joined the throng already on the floor.
Abby had seen reels performed, but she had never learned how to dance one. She hoped like mad that no one would ask her to dance.
Donal, his wild red hair pulled back and tied behind his head, strode over to her table, and with only her sitting there, she knew he was coming toward her. Now what was she supposed to do? Please don’t ask me to dance.
His great hulk stood beside her and held out his hand. “Dance?”
Abby stared at his hand as if it had turned into a hairy spider. “I don’t know how to dance.”
Donal threw his head back and laughed. “Not dance? I thought every lass comes out of the womb knowing how to dance.”
The music stopped, and Maeve was the first back to the table. “I’ll have ye know, we womenfolk spend many an hour as you do perfecting our steps.”
Iain joined them. “What is the problem?”
“Abigail doesn’t know how to dance,” Maeve said, a slight condescending smile on her lips.
“Then I will teach the lass.” He held out his hand. “Come.”
Frowning, Abby narrowed her eyes at him. The moment they’d stepped into his castle, he’d shifted in personality. His brogue got heavier by the second, and he wasn’t as warm as he had been on the road or in the houses. When he spoke, everyone listened . . . and obeyed. “Is that an order?”
“Aye.”
Without giving her a chance to decline, Iain pulled Abby out of her seat and onto the cleared floor. “Follow me and all will be well.”
“Easy for you to say.”
Looking around the hall, Abby’s heart sped up at the many eyes watching her. She gave a slight shake of her head.
Thankfully, Iain gave some sort of silent message to the pipers, and the music slowed enough that with Iain keeping his steps simple, Abby was able to keep up. She only stepped on his feet a few times, and she saw that as a success.
He brought her back to the table, flushed and exhilarated.
“Nicely done,” Maeve said, eyeing Abby warily.
Iain withdrew his arm from under Abby’s hand and sat down, calling for more wine.
As they took up their cups, Alistair and another young man pushed through the great doors and hurried to Iain.
“M’lord?” Alistair said.
Iain stood up. “What is it?”
“Granny sent me. There is to be a great storm hitting us by morning. The strait will be unsailable. She thought you would like to hear the news.”
“Granny was right.” Iain’s shoulders seemed to relax at the lad’s words. “Thank her for me when next you see her.”
“Aye.”
“Now go and have some fun.” Iain waved his arm toward the great hall.
“Thank ye, m’lord.”
Frustration or impatience flashed across Donal’s face. “Would you do me the honor of dancing, Abigail?”
Iain flicked his hand in the air. “Nay, she is exhausted from her travels, and it’s time she retired.”
Abby glowered at Iain. How dare he speak for her? He gave her an almost imperceptible look that said don’t.
He stood up and guided her out of the great hall. Once alone at the bottom of the steps, Abby rounded on him.
“How dare you speak for me? I’ll be the one to make the decision if I want to go to bed or not, not you. And don’t ever silence me with a look again.”
“I apologize, my sweet angel, but I could not guarantee the red firestorm’s safety if he put his hands on you.” His expression turned to a boyish tease. “Donal is my most skilled swordsman, and I would have hated to go into battle with him.”
“Honestly?” Abby let the sarcasm drip from the word.
He closed his arms around her and chuckled. Abby put her hands against his chest to push him away, but her heart fluttered at the rumbling of his heart under her palms.
“With the storm nearly upon us, we will be safe tonight and tomorrow. God willing, we can send word to your family.” Placing his fingers under her chin, he tilted her head back. “You are exhausted, my love.”
Abby sighed. Iain still believed she was from his time. There was no family to send a message to. At least, not in eighteenth-century Scotland. None she knew of, that is.
Tipping her head back, she gazed at Iain. He was looking at her as if he were trying to sort out some kind of puzzle. His eyes darkened, and he bent his head, placing feathery kisses on her mouth. She didn’t pull back, couldn’t pull back. She was mesmerized by the feeling stirring throughout her body. Without thought, she leaned forward, and apparently taking her movement as permission, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her.
Pure joy flowed through her, and she kissed him back, pushing thoughts of leaving him out of her mind and reveling in the sensations his closeness caused.
When the kiss came to an end, Iain didn’t let her go. Instead, he hugged her to him, her head resting on his chest. Abby listened to his heart, fast but strong and even. Her heart thumped in time to his tempo. It was as if both had merged into a beautiful waltz.
“I dinnae want to lose ye, Abigail Davis, but we must get word to yer family. They will be worried aboot ye.”
He had broken the spell. She could no longer hear the music in their chests. He loosened his grip, and she automatically did the same. Once they’d separated, Abby had the strongest desire to clasp him back again. The feeling of desolation was real; it sent an ache throughout her chest.
Abby stared at him and fought the nearly uncontrollable urge to leap into his arms. In another time and place, she would jump at the chance to marry her handsome Highlander, but even if they were of the same time, she couldn’t spend the rest of her life with someone who didn’t believe her. Even if what she’d told him sounded ludicrous, she would want the love and support of her partner. She would want his trust, his belief in her.
A heaviness settled in her chest. She had to admit she felt more than a passing crush for the man, but there was just too much working against them, and the worst thing at that moment was that he still didn’t believe her.
She pulled her hands out of his. “You don’t believe me. You don’t believe I came from the future.” Her hands felt like sandpaper as she rubbed her face. “I guess it doesn’t matter, but I have to go back.”
“I do believe ye believe what ye say, lass, but until ye can recall how you got to the moor that night, we cannae find yer kin.”
Abby couldn’t believe what she was hearing. He hadn’t heard a word she’d said. He still believed she had a grandmother in Scotland somewhere.
Her gaze rose to his eyes, and she nodded. She had to figure out how the time device worked, and she had to do it that night. If she stayed with Iain any longer, she might not ever want to go home. Her brain seemed to tilt as a raging war of possibilities filled her mind. Could she stay? Surely one little person out of time couldn’t do much damage to the order of history? However, another voice argued, it would do a great deal of damage. Who knew who Iain was supposed to marry? Maybe he just hadn’t met her yet.
She gazed up into his warm eyes but quickly looked away. She couldn’t let herself be drawn in by them again. “I know you don’t believe me, but I have to leave tonight.”
She stepped on the first step and slowly climbed the stairs, her heart and legs becoming heavier with each step.
“Wait. May I look at yer treasure more closely?”
She shrugged without looking back. “If it helps you to believe me, sure.”
Her mind argued with itself all the way to her door, and it seemed somehow appropriate that the moment she stepped over the threshold, a flash of lightning lit the room, followed almost immediately by a crash of thunder. The wind howled through and around the stone building. The storm was close, and her departure, imminent.