LOCH MORAR, SCOTLAND
The Past - Greystone Castle
“Okay, boy. See?” Paige waved a stick at the dog. He looked better than the last time she was here, but he still had a lot of fur missing. She named him Elvis, but he tended not to respond when she called him that so she used ‘good doggie or boy’ instead.
“Fetch!” She tossed the stick out into the middle of the courtyard.
Elvis slowly swung his head in the direction of the stick and then just as slowly back towards where Paige stood.
“Come on boy! You can do it!” Lifting her skirt, she jumped off the stair, and ran towards the stick.
Looking over her shoulder, she checked to see if the dog was following.
He wasn’t.
“Aw, come on.” She stopped. “What kind of dog are you?”
Elvis opened his mouth and yawned, obviously not the least bit interested in playing fetch.
“Bet you’d chase my shoe,” she said but Elvis wasn’t listening. He was too busy investigating a clump of grass near the steps.
Paige bent over and picked up the stick she threw. Standing once more, she caught sight of the tree in the middle of the courtyard and shivered involuntarily. That was the same tree all of the men had been hanging from when she was last here, in this time.
Fighting the urge not to cry, she forced her eyes away, and looked back at Elvis.
Sensing her watching him, Elvis looked up for a moment and met her gaze with his world-weary eyes. Then he lifted his leg and proceeded to pee on top of what he just sniffed.
“Well,” she sighed, walking with the stick back to the stairs. “So much for that.”
Leaning down, she gathered up the rest of the sticks that she had collected for the fire.
“Come on, boy,” she called, but Elvis didn’t seem inclined to follow her just yet. “Fine. I’ll leave the door open for you, but don’t stay out past dark or I’m leaving you outside.”
Elvis wagged his tail and trotted over to another clump of grass.
“I wish I was as easily amused.” Turning, Paige carried the bundle of sticks inside.
The hall was unusually quiet now that the men were gone; making each step she took sound louder than it should.
Bending over, she piled the wood in a neat stack on the hearth. The fire was almost out, so she added a stick to it, and prodded the coals until the flames caught once more.
Standing back up, she pressed her hand to her lower back and rubbed. Her muscles were stiff and sore from sitting for days tending to Gavin. His condition hadn’t altered since the day at the Loch.
Each day was the same. She woke up, but Gavin didn’t. Paige tried to keep her spirits up, especially around the boys, Muir, Alec, and Graham but her resolve was dwindling quickly.
Finally, with her urging, Muir, Alec, and Graham went off to retrieve Callum from Shamus.
At first, they refused, but after a few days of her constant nagging, they had finally agreed to leave.
She was glad when they did leave, at first, so she wouldn’t have to keep up the pretence of keeping it together any longer. But now that they had been gone for over a week, she was starting to worry if they would return at all.
Not having the inclination, nor the energy, to climb the stairs at the moment, she sat heavily down into one of the chairs near the hearth. The last time she sat here, Gavin was eating her ‘Oatmeal Surprise’ with all the men.
A slight smile crested her lips, remembering their expressions of horror while they ate it—or tried to. It wasn’t very good.
The open door creaked as it moved back and forth in the wind. The sound, lulled her, and her eyes drifted shut. Paige knew she should get up and go check on Gavin but she couldn’t seem to muster the oomph to move just yet. Besides, what would be the point? He would still be sleeping and she would still be wondering if he would ever wake again.
♦
Gavin drifted in and out of consciousness. His breathing was ragged and his body was stiff and sore. He felt like his horse was sitting on top of him. Every time something tangible entered his mind, it slipped away before he could grab hold of what it was. On some level he knew he was in Greystone, in his own bed, but the how of it all seemed to elude him.
A shuffling sounded across the room and he clung to the noise like a lifeline, trying to remain awake. It was hard though. It seemed his mind was wont to go back to the oblivion he had just escaped from.
Fighting the urge to let it pull him back under the blanket of darkness, he forced his eyes open. Everything was blurry—out of focus.
A crackling noise and the smell of burning wood let him know there was a fire in the hearth. It was a comforting scent—one he remembered quite vividly.
Slowly, other things became tangible. The feel of the furs beneath his fingers. The rawness in his throat. The pain behind his eyes. All were a welcome respite from feeling nothing.
“Water,” he croaked, barely audible. A task as simple as speaking sapped his strength.
The shuffling grew louder and he heard the distinct sound of water being poured into a glass—a glorious sound, indeed.
A gentle hand slipped behind his head, levering him up, and a glass pressed to his lips.
He drank the water down in huge gulps, and it dribbled from his mouth down onto his chin and chest. It tasted so good, felt so good on his raw throat that he did not even notice the overly sweet aftertaste.
The arm that held his head tightened and the water continued to pour down his throat, to the point he was gasping for air.
He tried to pull his head back but it was stuck in a vice like grip. From lack of air, he gurgled and gasped.
Suddenly the water stopped and his head was dropped back onto the pillows. Rolling to his side, he coughed and wheezed, trying to drag air back into his lungs. “Are ye trying ta kill me?” he rasped.
“Not yet, but I might,” a harsh female voice taunted.
Gavin’s blood ran cold.
He knew that voice.
Pressing himself up, he looked over his shoulder, right into the smiling eyes of the woman he thought he would never see again—Jillian.
“Ye can no be real.”
“What’s the matter, laird?” she scathed the last. “I thought ye would be happy ta see me after I have given ye so much pleasure.”
She spoke sweetly now, but there was a burning fire of hatred in her eyes. Suddenly, Gavin remembered awaking before and seeing her but he had thought it was a dream. A very bad dream.
“Ye can no be real,” he repeated, shivering now. Not from fear, but from a cold that was spreading throughout his body.
“Oh, I am real.”
“What…did…ye…do…ta…me?” he chattered.
“Oh, that.” She waved her hand in the air dismissively. “Jes a wee bit o’ potion ta keep ye from trying ta interfere with what I have planned for that evil lass ye brought ta our home.”
Gavin never gave much credence to the word fear. It was a wasted emotion, or so Morgan had told him time and again while they were training. But now, fear was running rampant and he was unable to thwart it like he had so many other times in the past.
She gave him a winning smile. “Not ta worry, laird,” she said a bit too cheerily. “I will rid these walls of her vileness soon enough.”
“Jillian…” He struggled against the effects of the drug she had given him. “She is no consequence ta me,” he implored. “Jes let her go back ta whence she came and we can be together. I promise...”
She laughed. It was a high keening sound and it made gooseflesh rise on his skin.
“Think ye would have a care with what promises ye toss around. Have ye so soon forgotten the last one ye made ta me and broke?”
“Jillian, I …” His tongue felt swollen in his mouth and he couldn’t get out the words he wanted to say.
“No need ta worry. I forgive ye. Now, ye go on back ta sleep and I’ll take care of the lass, jes like I did with all the others before her.”
She turned to leave but then stopped and faced him again. “And that man too,” she added. “Now he was a bit harder ta bring down, but Broderick took care of him for me. Jes like a good man should.”
Gavin’s blood was near boiling at this point but he was helpless to do naught but listen to her insane rantings. Even while he fought against the effects of the drug, and the cloying darkness that seemed to want to swallow him whole, it occurred to him, that she was nothing more than a she-devil in disguise.
The bitter residue of this knowledge sat heavily on his tongue as he remembered all too clearly that his own insatiable desire and bruised ego had brought him here this day. And now, his sweet lass, Paige, the woman his heart now belonged to—she would bear the brunt of his horrible mistake.
♦
Groggily, Paige looked around to see what had woken her and spotted Elvis at her side. She lowered her feet and sat forward. “So, you decided to come in, finally,” she said to Elvis but he didn’t seem to hear her. Instead he was standing at her side, growling.
“What’s the matter, boy?” Paige leaned forward to see what the dog was upset about.
Granted, they had a precarious relationship, with one another, but they had come to an understanding of sorts, or so she had thought. “Are you hungry?”
Elvis barked loudly.
Paige reared back, suddenly afraid. She hadn’t heard him do that since the day Broderick had tried to approach her outside, after she had run from him.
Jumping up, Paige quickly grabbed one of the sticks from the hearth and got into a defensive stance.
As her eyes scanned the room, a sickening feeling settled in her gut. Was Broderick back?
“Who’s there?” she called out. “Show yourself…or I’ll…I’ll, sic my dog on you. I swear I will. And he’s a beast. He’ll eat you alive,” she warned.
At that moment, Elvis decided to sit down, putting most of his bottom on her foot.
Great.
Now, he didn’t look nearly as ferocious as moments before. “Elvis get up and protect me.” She gently nudged his backside.
Elvis seemed unfazed by her command and leaned more fully against her legs.
“How am I to fight off the enemy with you sitting on my foot?”
Still unfazed, Elvis yawned loudly and lowered all the way down onto the floor.
“Big help you are.” Paige jerked her foot out from under his bottom and walked over to the door.
Warily, she peeked outside, but it was too dark to see anything. Not wanting to chance something or someone, coming in, she quickly slammed the door shut and brought the bolt home.
“There, that should do it.” Feeling much better, she tucked the stick under her harm and brushed off her hands.
Turning, she looked at Elvis and to her dismay, saw that he was staring down the hall towards the kitchen.
“Bloody Hell!” She just remembered that there was more than one door.
“Come on boy,” she coaxed. “Help me look for intruders.”
Of course, that didn’t have any effect on the dog either.
“I’ll give you a treat.”
At that, the dog’s ears perked up.
“Yes, you heard me right. I have a nice treat waiting for you in the kitchen,” she lied. Granted there was a bone of some animal in there but other than that, the pickings were slim. Paige tended to avoid the dank kitchen at all cost. It not only smelled weird but it also reminded her of when all the men were alive and brought her close to tears with the remembrance. And now, with Gavin still asleep, (if you could call it that) she didn’t need anything else to depress her.
Luckily, she had the wherewithal to pack a hefty amount of food in her bag that she had brought back from the future and was still eating PB&J sandwiches, for her dinners.
“It’s a big bone,” she said, using her sweetest voice to coerce him from his resting spot on the floor.
His old body slowly lifted to standing.
Patting her leg, she walked towards the kitchen.
Acutely aware of every movement, she was reassured by the sound of Elvis’ nails on the stone floor as he followed slowly behind.
When Paige reached the kitchen, she stopped and let her eyes adjust to the dimness of the room.
The small window on the back wall let in very little light and shadows hovered on the edges, which would be easy hiding places for someone.
A creaking noise sounded from somewhere in the room.
With her hand on her racing heart, Paige looked back at Elvis, waiting to see if he was aware of someone in the room that she was not. Luckily, he didn’t seem concerned.
Letting out a pent-up breath, she returned to her inspection. As her eyes adjusted to the dimness, she could see that the door was indeed unlocked, even though it was not open. Not wanting to take any chances, she ran over to the door and brought the bolt home.
“I don’t remember leaving the door unlocked.” Paige looked at Elvis for clarification but he merely walked over to the table and looked up at the bone on top.
“Geez. Calm down. I didn’t forget about your treat.”
A few herbs were hanging from the ceiling, drying, but since she had no idea what they were used for, she never touched them. Grans was always a stickler for not using herbs if you didn’t know what they were. Paige had learned that lesson the hard way when she made a mud pie when she was younger with some pretty blue flowers and Grans had almost had heart failure because she was playing with some of her Nightshade or what some people referred to as Bella Donna. It didn’t make much difference what name the plant was called, it was still poisonous.
Grans gave her a firm dressing down and told her if she was going to use herbs of any kind, she better damn sight know what she was using.
Paige vaguely remembered her Grans telling her about the different uses of some herbs, but it was so long ago now, she was having a hard time recalling what she actually told her. Dang it.
However, now, as she looked at the table, there were some herbs lying on top and there was a small bowl with dried flowers crushed inside that she definitely did not remember seeing before.
A shiver of unease flitted over Paige.
Someone had to have been in the kitchen since the last time she was here …but who? There was only one explanation…
“Gavin!”