The women talked so fast it was hard to make out that they were speaking English. Their accents seemed thicker than Eoin’s, but one was different, more like a combination of Irish and Scottish, which made the brogue even harder to make out. Then the Gaelic.
When they reverted to their native language, Ashlyn could only stare. The melodious words were almost like singing as they shot sentences back and forth. Even if she’d spoken Gaelic, she doubted she would’ve been able to keep up.
Confusion swirled around in her head. Fascination and horror kept advancing and retreating along with it. More what the hell collided with the fact Eoin hadn’t lied. He’d brought her back in time.
Really. It isn’t a dream.
She was too overwhelmed to protest.
They shuffled her up some stairs and into a large room. A warm fire was already glowing from the hearth and the earthy scent of peat tickled her nose. Ashlyn tried to look around but the dark oversized furniture was a blur as three sets of hands pushed her forward, and the youngest girl—a curvy brunette—tugged on her hand, a gentle smile on her mouth.
Again, she should be fighting this—them—but she didn’t know if she wanted to curl into a ball and sob, or run.
Then a few teen boys came in with a large wooden tub and set it near the fire. They came and went a few times with buckets of steaming water until the bathtub was full. Inviting, too, with the steam wafting above the rim.
The older woman with salt and pepper hair in a bun at the back of her neck barked orders, and the boys didn’t hesitate to obey. She tested the water and wiped her hands on her off-white apron. Her clothing was dark, and looked rough. No doubt all three women wore wool, heavy, but warm enough for the climate. Durable, too. They probably didn’t have many replacement outfits.
She should pay attention—being since she was surrounded by things she’d written about many times.
And isn’t that just surreal?
Soon the door was shut, the boys were gone, and Ashlyn was alone with the three women.
The girl who’d taken her hand started pulling on Eoin’s shirt. “Come now, lass,” she whispered. She was the one with the weird combo accent, but her smile was still in place, and genuine. Her rounded cheeks made her green eyes all that more appealing, and she was pretty. Open, friendly.
Ashlyn didn’t mean to resist, but then again, she didn’t have much choice. Plus, she really did want to take a bath. She lifted her arms when bid by the other younger woman, and in about two seconds she was naked by the tub.
The eldest woman urged her to step into the water. “S’all righ’, lass.” She smiled, too, then addressed the third girl, who had reddish-brown hair, and wore a dress almost the same color. “Go fetch tha gown tha laird wanted tha lass in. She looks ta be of a size wit’ Lady Fiona, so gather underclothes as well. Our lady willna mind.”
The girl nodded and was off, closing the door a lot quieter than the last boy had.
She shivered, despite the warm fire not ten feet from her and the hot water she was about to get into. Her surroundings hadn’t really sunk in—the century she was in—was like a prairie dog on alert. She faded from this is reality to no way, in a circle. “Lady Fiona?”
“Tha laird’s younger sister. ‘Tis a delight, tha’ one.” The older woman’s smile widened. Her obvious affection for Eoin’s sister warmed Ashlyn somehow.
She felt safe for the first time since being rushed inside Dunvegan, version 1755. Maybe the manhandling didn’t bother her so much, either. At least for the moment.
“Go on, lass, inta the tub. We need ye warm,” the other girl said. “I’m Maegan, by tha way.”
“I’m Nessie.” The older woman’s expression softened. “These are a few of my lasses. Tha one I sent off is Peg.”
Ashlyn sank into the hot water with a sigh, resting her back against the wooden side. She bent her knees, but it didn’t matter, both women had already seen her naked as the day she was born. The water surrounded her body, almost too warm, but it felt like a caress, increasing her sense of security in a way. Making her just a touch more comfortable with her very odd—unbelievable—situation.
They fussed over her, washing her hair with a flowery scented soap, but she was grateful for feeling clean again. Soap like that was probably a luxury for them, so Ashlyn appreciated it, even if she couldn’t tell them.
The two women washed her body as if she was a child and wouldn’t accept her attempt at, “I can do it myself,” so she let them do their thing. It felt good, anyway.
She couldn’t help but think of Eoin’s hands all over her in that cave. And his mouth moving over hers, even if it was the second time she’d not really wanted to kiss him.
Right?
Her cheeks burned, and she avoided their gazes, even though there was no way they were mind readers.
When either spoke, it was mostly to each other, not asking much of Ashlyn—although she’d kind of expected the opposite. For instance, “Why were you with our laird, nearly naked?” led the charge in her head, but nothing of the sort was mentioned.
Maybe they knew better than to question Eoin—or her, as an extension of that, but they’d all made multiple inquiries when they’d all been down in the great hall.
The laird had ignored them, so maybe that was it.
The door creaked as it opened and Peg was back, but she wasn’t alone. An ebony-haired girl, who had to be in her late teens was on her heels, and both females had armfuls of fabric.
Ah, the eighteenth century feminine attire.
They were going to truss her up.
Oh my God. This is real.
No amount of repeating the idea alleviated her oh shit. She swallowed and sat taller in the tub.
The new girl’s gaze glued to Ashlyn’s and her heart skipped.
Curiosity was etched in the eyes that matched Eoin’s. She had to be his sister. Ashlyn could see him in her face, as well. The sibling resemblance was clear in the high cheekbones and the shape of their eyes.
She was gorgeous, with natural alabaster skin Kate would be jealous as hell of. Her beauty stunned Ashlyn—not unlike the redhead who owned the shop she’d bought Eoin’s painting at.
“Hello,” she croaked, then yelled at herself.
“Good day,” the girl returned. She set her burden down on a trunk at the end of the four-poster bed and curtseyed. Her smile was wide and she had a dimple in her right cheek.
The other servant—Peg—started straightening the garments out.
“I’m Fiona,” the dark-haired beauty said.
“My name’s Ashlyn,” she whispered as Nessie urged her to stand and step out of the tub onto some sort of animal fur rug. The hairy texture teased her toes, and she fidgeted. She was naked in front of four people now, with nowhere to hide.
Maegan wrapped her in a sheet of material—a towel eighteenth century style. It wasn’t very soft, but it got the job done as the girl started rubbing down Ashlyn’s arms and back.
Kate wouldn’t approve. Bath towels were supposed to be lavish, thick and soft. The second thought of her bestie jolted her in her skin.
Her head spun. She was really here.
Back in time.
Like she’d stepped into one of her stories.
She wavered on her feet, and her arms were contained in the linen, so she couldn’t even reach out to steady herself.
No amount of squeezing her eyes shut and shouting no, no no, please no! in her head was working. Dizziness swamped her, and Ashlyn swayed.
She wanted Eoin.
Why? He kidnapped you, idiot!
“She’s gonna fall,” Peg warned.
Hands seized her shoulders before Ashlyn could tell them she was fine.
But was she?
No. Not even an iota of ‘okay.’ Not even close.
Fiona’s pretty face was marred with a frown. “Are ye well, lass? Ashlyn, ye said?” The girl struggled with her name—it wasn’t period appropriate, after all.
“I’m…I’m…I don’t know!” She tried not to wail, but damn tears blurred her vision again. They were hot on her cheeks, too, and she couldn’t muster the energy to wipe them away.
Four sets of eyes watched her with concern, and the MacLeod women wore nearly identical frowns and furrowed brows.
“Shit,” Ashlyn whispered. She shook her head.
Nessie gasped.
The other two servants exchanged a nervous look, but amusement rippled Eoin’s little sister’s mouth.
“I like her,” the girl announced.
The older woman muttered something in Gaelic and tsked. Her lips were pursed and she crossed her arms over her ample breasts.
Ashlyn’s cheeks seared. Eoin had said the older woman didn’t like cursing, so she should watch her mouth. Kate wouldn’t be able to cut it here, her favorite word started with an f and ended with a k. She avoided Nessie’s gaze and looked at Eoin’s little sister. “I guess that’s good,” she said.
Fiona flashed her dimple and grabbed what had to be a chemise from the end of the bed. “Let’s get ye dressed.”
“The laird said he’d be back fer her,” Maegan said.
“He’s wit’ Grandfa, tha’ could take hours.” Fiona rolled her eyes.
Peg took the chemise and tugged it over Ashlyn’s head. The material was butter-soft and she palmed it as it settled over her body. It was lower cut than it’d appeared to be when Fiona had handled it, but she wasn’t surprised it would only be the first of multiple layers.
She wasn’t looking forward to the corseted top on the green gown. Her breasts weren’t huge, but they were too large to go without some sort of support. Unlike Kate, who wore corsets for fun, she wasn’t a fan.
“That’s so pretty,” she blurted when Fiona lifted the shimmery material and held it up.
It was a lighter color than it’d appeared when lying flat, a Kelly Green, with an intricate pattern of leaves embroidered into the bodice and at the bottom of the skirt in a darker green thread that caught the light as it moved.
The teen beamed. “’Tis mine, an’ I fancy it verra much.”
“Thank you for letting me wear it.”
“Oh, ‘tis no bother.” She frowned. “My brother doesna approve of it.”
“Oh.”
Nessie urged Ashlyn to turn toward the fire as they got the yards and yards of fine fabric over her head.
The gown rustled as it fell into place, and Ashlyn had to resist caressing the front of the dress. When she looked down, it hit her why Eoin wouldn’t want his baby sister wearing the thing. It was so low cut, if she bent over, she feared her boobs would pull a Janet Jackson.
Heat washed over her body, burning up to her ears. The crimson flush was visible on the bare skin of her chest, too. She wanted to cover up, and she wasn’t even with him yet.
How would Eoin feel about her in this gown? Then again, he’d seen her naked, too.
It was fine, expensive no doubt for the time, and true lady’s attire. Kate would love it for her fantasy collection.
They made quick work of the ties at the back, but thankfully Peg and Maegan didn’t pull the corset so tight Ashlyn couldn’t breathe. However, her breasts were on display. She was rocking cleavage that would make her bestie proud. She gulped.
Fiona clapped. “So bonnie, Ashlyn!”
“Tha lass does tha’ gown well.” Nessie’s pride was obvious and made her want to fidget.
Peg and Maegan beamed, taking turns going on about how lovely she was.
They made quick work of her hair, putting it up in what Ashlyn considered close to a French twist. A part of her was giddy, like she was going to a ball, and another part was terrified, and couldn’t help the shudders that threatened, shaking her to her core. She was dressed up like a lady, like she was going to some Renn Fest, but this was real.
She was in 1755, and this wasn’t a dream.
Could this trip be the most authentic research she ever did?
Ashlyn snorted.
Guess that’s thinking positive, right?
“Come ta my rooms! I’ve a lookin’ glass!” Fiona tugged her hand.
“Slow down, milady. The laird will require Lady Ashlyn’s presence,” Nessie admonished.
Lady Ashlyn? “Wait. I’m not—”
“I’ll take her ta them!” the girl exclaimed, obviously not daunted by the older woman.
She pulled her from the room in a blur, and dragged her down a long hallway.
Ashlyn wanted to look around, but Fiona had them at top speed and it was all she could do to keep up.
Eoin’s sister’s room had an obvious feminine touch the room they’d been in had lacked, from the padded window seat to the slender carved pillars on the bed. There was a large MacLeod tartan covering the bedding, but under it was a fur blanket that made Ashlyn want to curl up against it to see if it was as soft as it looked.
The room was warmer, because it was smaller, and the fire burned bright.
The teen went to the corner immediately, leaving Ashlyn by the bed, and dragged an intricately carved, harp-shaped mirror over by the fireplace. Fiona beckoned. “Come, Lady Ashlyn.”
“You don’t have to call me that. I’m not a lady.”
“Ah, but ye look like one.”
Her eyes found themselves in the cloudy reflection, and they went wide with the shock Ashlyn could see all over her face. “Holy shit,” she whispered.
Fiona giggled. “Didna my brother tell ye? Doona speak as such around Nessie.”
Heat flared all over, and she locked eyes with the girl’s deep blue ones. “Uh. Sorry.”
She grinned. “Doesna bother me. But Grandfa is also…sensitive ta curses.”
“Good to know. Thanks.” Ashlyn smiled.
“Ye…speak…unusual.” The girl frowned. Her black hair was long, hanging loose in thick waves to her waist, and shifted as she cocked her head to one side. Her gown was rich fabric, like the green one, but it had a modest neckline and was deep red. It also had pink flowers embroidered on the bodice.
Fiona was definitely a girly girl. Kate would approve.
“Ah. I’m not…from around here.” She didn’t want to pull the whole I’m-from-the-future thing until she talked to Eoin. Ashlyn swallowed. Averted her eyes back to her reflection.
The gown was probably the finest thing she’d ever worn. She wanted to twirl.
Fiona was still studying her—she could sense it from her peripheral vision, but the laird’s little sister didn’t make further inquiries.
Maybe Eoin had everyone trained?
“Come, I’ll take ye ta my Grandfa’s chambers. Isna good ta keep my brother waiting.”
She didn’t argue, but her heart jumped at the thought of seeing Eoin again.