Loud scraping woke Laurie from fitful dreams. The noise pounded at her temples. Eeuw… She felt awful, as if someone clobbered her over the head. She tried to open her eyes. They were glued shut. She rubbed them and finally managed to pry them open.
Darkness. Only darkness surrounded her and that annoying, grating noise. She massaged her temples, her mind filled with fuzz. She groaned.
She had to clear her head, get up, find out what was making the noise. What if someone had broken into the cottage?
Light assaulted her…
Laurie shrieked as bed curtains swept open. Memories from the previous night painfully flooded back. She hadn't been dreaming.
A smiling young woman stood next to the bed.
"Elspeth?" Laurie blinked several times. “You’re real.”
“You look as though you have seen a banshee.” Elspeth chuckled. “Here, let me help you rise. Things will seem better after a warm bath.”
Laurie blew out a puff of air and tugged her fingers through her snarled hair. She welcomed Elspeth’s assistance to sit.
Several burly men stared at her as if she was crazy.
Maybe she was. She pulled the covers to her neck and glared at the men.
The men turned away and continued to tug a large wooden tub across the floor to position it before the fire burning in the hearth. They filled the tub with buckets of steaming water. When they finished, Aine bustled into the room, carrying several cloths, a small pot and a comb. She shooed the men out and shut the door.
After the men left, Laurie sighed, feeling out of her element, unsure how to act. The best approach, at least for now, was to go along with the madness. Elspeth and Aine seemed pleasant enough and probably didn’t mean her harm.
Though something in the wine she’d drank the night before definitely knocked her out. Still, she would play along, but be wary. Very wary.
“I’d like a bath.” She shot the women the smile she used to cajole executives.
She allowed Aine to help remove her blouse. Elspeth gasped at the sight of her thong and bra. “You wear unusual garments.”
The young woman studied Laurie’s underwear.
“’Tis improper.” Aine wagged her finger at the younger woman. “I will go to your lady-mother’s trunks and get a fresh chemise and gown for the poor lass.”
“Aye,” Elspeth said. “Bring the sapphire gown. She will look fetching in it. ’Twill accentuate her bonnie blue eyes and golden tresses.”
“There’s no need,” Laurie said. “I can wear—”
“’Tis Patrick’s favorite color.” Elspeth inclined her head toward Laurie, a twinkle in her eyes and a smirk curving her lips.
Aine cackled and left the chamber.
Why should she wear the favorite color of that buffoon who’d dragged her here last night? Laurie chomped down on her molars. She loved the color too, but still, she didn’t feel the need to get decked out to please him. Her fantasy of the man played better than the reality. He was a brute.
Laurie wanted a civilized man in her life. A man who understood the world she lived in. She wasn’t about to become the property of some medieval lord.
Hell no.
Besides she wasn’t staying. Although she doubted she’d wake from this bad dream any time soon. What she needed was to get back to the old hut where he’d found her and figure out how to get home. Maybe she could sneak out of the castle without laying eyes on the big jerk again.
For now, though, she’d take a bath. She took off her thong and bra and let Elspeth assist her into the tub. Being nude wasn’t awkward. After all, the girls at the gym ran around the locker room in different stages of undress, many completely nude. The scent of herbs reached her nose and she swirled the leaves floating on the surface. Heat soothed her stiff muscles.
Elspeth handed her the pot and a small cloth. Laurie sniffed. Lavender.
“’Tis French soap. My brother Archie often travels to France with the Campbells for King Jamie. He brings back wonderful gifts.”
“Thank you for sharing it with me.”
Elspeth inclined her head, sat in a nearby chair and gazed away, giving Laurie the allusion of privacy. She washed herself, enjoying the moment while the young woman silently mended a piece of cloth.
After a few minutes passed, Elspeth glanced up from her mending. “Aine will wash your hair when she returns.”
With the sound of heavy footfalls and loud voices approaching, they stared toward the door. The heavy panel crashed open and Patrick stood at the threshold gaping. A large man, his shoulders barely cleared the frame. His mouth twitched up into a crooked smile. “Ach, lass. You dinnae need a fine gown. You are bonnie in what God gave you.” He strode into the room with Aine on his heels, making the large chamber suddenly seem quite small and overly warm.
Heat rose from the tip of her toes to singe the roots of her hair, Laurie tried to cover her breasts with her hands and with the tiny cloth, while glaring at the audacious man. “How dare you!” The rasp in her voice didn’t produce the demand she’d hoped for. “Get out of here.”
“I am Chief of Clan MacLachlan, Lord of Strathlachlan. I dare much, lass.” His cocky grin made him even more attractive than she thought him the previous night.
Oh. Her blush must be brilliant.
He growled, whirled on his heel, and hurried from the room. Elspeth and Aine exchanged glances then stared at Laurie.
She slid down into the tub, relieved, yet not. She’d never been so mortified. He was big and overwhelming. She had to get out of this place and find her way home before she fell under the spell of that unbelievably gorgeous, brute of a man.
Aine cleared her throat. “I will be about the task of washing your hair then, lass.”
“Yeah, fine, whatever,” Laurie managed to choke out.
After using more of the lavender soap to clean Laurie’s hair, the plump woman dumped buckets of water over her to rinse the soap away. When she finished, Aine helped her stand and patted her dry with a large soft cloth.
Unsure of proper etiquette and slow to understand their words, Laurie didn’t speak. She allowed the two women to fuss over her while she mulled over the situation. There had to be a way to get home. All she needed do was get away from the confines of the castle and find the spot in the woods where she landed, so to speak.
Aine slid a soft linen chemise the color of ecru over her head and Laurie sat in front of the fire while the older woman combed out her hair and braided it. Elspeth left the room only to return a short while later with a tray containing something sloppy in a bowl, a small chunk of hard cheese, and a cup of liquid.
“I brought you a wee something to break your fast. After you dress, I will show you the castle and grounds.”
“I’m not to be locked in this room any longer?”
“Nae, Patrick reconsidered his order. He does not believe you can get into mischief. You cannae leave the castle grounds for the mainland.”
“What do you mean?”
“You were in a swoon when Patrick brought you here so you did not see. Water surrounds Castle Lachlan. ’Tis impossible to leave, except by boat or during an unusually low tide.”
Laurie didn’t want to hear this. She needed to discover a way to escape, get back to the forest, and find her way home. Shit, she’d have to bide her time, try to sneak off and steal a boat. Not that she knew how to use one.
She’d earned an MBA. She could figure it out.
“Patrick commanded Duncan MacEwen to guard you.”
More bad news. Escape would be difficult with a guard tagging along, but she’d figure out a way. She needed to believe she could or she’d lose her mind.
Determined, Laurie directed her attention to the tray of food. Sustenance first. The bowl contained some sort of oatmeal porridge. The gummy substance tasted bland, but the cheese and the ale were passable. Surprisingly, getting tossed through time hadn’t destroyed her appetite. When she finished her meal, Elspeth and Aine helped her dress in the beautiful sapphire gown. She wrapped her plaid stole around her shoulders and secured it with the brooch from Caitrina. After putting on her China flats, she was ready.
For what, she wasn’t sure. Laurie raised her head high. She would find her way home.
Following Elspeth down the wheel stair, she placed her hand against the cold stone to steady herself. The long gown made it difficult to navigate the steep, narrow confines of the twisting stairway. She relaxed when they entered the passage to the other side of the castle.
Elspeth pointed to the closed door they approached.
“’Tis the laird’s study, Patrick’s private work chamber. He wishes to speak to you before I take you to the hall.”
Something banged the door from the other side.
Elspeth glanced at Laurie, chuckled, and softly knocked on the door.
* * *
Patrick ran a hand over his face. He’d fled his bedchamber as if a banshee pursued him. Unbelievable, but necessary.
He escaped before doing something foolish like climb into the bath with her. He leaned his back against the heavy oak door in his private chamber and hung his head. What was the matter with him? Running from a mere lass? For Heaven’s sake, he was the Chief of Clan MacLachlan—a fierce warrior.
How had he turned into a trembling imbecile?
When the lass made that funny little O-shape with her mouth, he’d nearly lost control.
God’s teeth, he wanted to kiss her lips and every inch of her luscious body. After seeing moisture glistening along her fair skin, he’d realized he never should have gone to his chamber while she bathed. This night past, he publicly claimed her because it was the honorable thing to do after unleashing his lust upon her. During the night, while he fought the tension in his body, he decided he wanted her. Now he was determined to truly claim her.
And it would happen soon if he couldn’t control the ache in his groin. He slammed his palms against the door at his sides. He should go to the village, find a wench, and relieve his desperate need. His chuckle sounded hollow, he wouldn’t follow through on the thought. He’d not enjoyed the pleasure of a woman in over three years.
He’d sworn off marriage. And the gratification of the body hadn’t been a temptation.
But now… There was a woman he wanted.
Patrick pushed away from the door at the sound of a soft knock. ’Twas certainly Elspeth with Mistress Laurie. Damn. How long had he stood inside the closed door with his blood thundering in his ears?
He strode to his worktable and sat before the pile of papers he’d worked on yesterday. He flexed his muscles, stretched, and reached within for the shrewd warrior.
“Enter.”
* * *
After several moments of silence, Laurie jumped at the harsh voice bidding them enter. She’d hoped to avoid Patrick a while longer. Her hands trembled and she swallowed compulsively, not ready to face the man who haunted her dreams. Her reality.
She stiffened her spine. He wouldn’t intimidate her. Few men made her nervous. She wasn’t about to let this one unnerve her more than he already had. She took a couple of deep breaths and centered herself.
Laurie smoothed the front of her gown and followed Elspeth into the chamber where Patrick sat at a desk of sorts, reading. He glanced up. The light from the high window illuminated the papers on the table before him. Yet the play of shadow and light across his face made it difficult to read his expression.
“Mistress Laurie, sit.” He tipped his head, motioning to the two chairs before the hearth.
She gave Elspeth a sideways glance, and the young woman nodded encouragement. Laurie marched over to where he indicated and sat in one of the chairs.
“Beth, leave us. I will bring her to you when we finish.”
“Aye, you will find me in my solar.” Elspeth left and closed the door behind her.
Patrick rose, striding across the room with smooth muscular grace to sit in the chair next to her. Instead of looking at her, he gazed into the fire.
The silence stretched and his expression remained blank. She fidgeted with the fabric of the gown, her palms damp. As the seconds ticked by, her stomach somersaulted with nervous anticipation. Nibbling at her bottom lip, she stared at her lap. The effort to remain silent killed her, but she refused to speak first.
Patrick finally cleared his throat and provided her with a close-up of his face. God, he was good-looking. His blue eyes were absolute stunners.
Those eyes stared at her mouth, and then they darkened. His chair creaked when he coughed and adjusted his weight. “Lass, I need you to answer some questions. Will you do that?”
“I’ll try.” Although it disgusted her to appear weak, she dropped her gaze unable to continue holding his stare. Why did this man make her more nervous than any other?
“Good,” he said. “I understand your surname is Bernard. Are you French?”
She flipped her gaze to him relieved she could easily answer the question. “My father was of French descent.”
“Was?”
“My parents were killed in a plane...ah, in an accident when I was a child.”
“An accident on a plain?” A touch of humor threaded his voice.
“Yes,” she said, relieved he hadn’t caught her slip.
“A plain is rather large…”
She shrugged. His eyes narrowed.
“Parlez-vous français, la langue de votre père?”
“Oui. Je parle couramment le français.”
“Ach, well.” Patrick chuckled. “Do you speak any other language?”
She was proud of her gift for languages, having spoken French fluently since childhood. She spoke Spanish, Italian and German good enough to converse with clients. She’d even picked up a small amount of Mandarin during her career. She wasn’t about to tell all of that to a male chauvinist, medieval lord.
“I can read and write in Latin,” she said.
“Unusual for a lass.” He raised a skeptical brow.
“True. It’s a dead language, but I studied it at school.”
“Attending school is also unusual for a lass.”
“Not where I come from.”
“Aye, we will get to that,” he said, an edge to his voice.
When would she learn to keep her mouth shut?
“You will find my household forward thinking. Living close to the Lowlands as we do, we speak both the Gaelic tongue and the language of the Lowlanders. Many of my men, including myself, speak French. And aye, lass, I read and write Latin, in addition to several other languages.”
“Of course you do.”
He stared at her for an uncomfortable moment.
“Your mother? She was French?”
How would he react to her answer to the question? Only one way to find out.
“My mother’s surname was MacIntyre, of course, that was before she married my father.”
Patrick’s eyes narrowed. “Did you wander away from your MacIntyre escort and find yourself in our Fir-wood this past night?”
“No.”
His jaw tightened. He worked to control annoyance.
“Then how did you come to be in our Fir-wood?”
Laurie sighed. This was all so complicated. She chose her words carefully, deciding to tell the truth no matter how absurd it sounded. “I was in my garden, outside of my cottage, in a place far away from here. I was with friends when I saw you outside the gate in the woods behind the cottage. It was the third time I’d seen you. I wanted to know who you were and why you were there. I was frightened, but a friend pushed me forward. As I stepped through the gate, I fell, and everything started spinning. There were flashes of light and color and the next thing I knew, I was on the ground at your feet. You might not believe me, but it is the truth.”
Did he believe her? His features gave away little of his thoughts.
“What is the name of this far away place? Kansas?”
“No, that is the name of a place in a mov...er, a play. I live in the town of Anderson Creek, in a far distant land.”
“On the Continent?” Patrick asked.
“On a continent? Yeah.”
His gaze bored into her as he processed her answers. “One more question. Why did you ask me what year it was when we talked this past night?”
Afraid to answer, Laurie held her breath. Exhaling on a sigh, she sat straight. “My cottage and my garden exist in the twenty-first century.” She braced herself, but the explosion she expected never came.
“You believe this outrageous tale?” His eyebrows nearly met his hairline.
His shocked expression caused her to shake her head. “I feared you wouldn’t believe me.” She looked directly into his eyes. His dark blue gaze mesmerized her. She swallowed. “It is the truth. You must believe me. I need your help to go back.”
“How do you expect me to help you?” A flicker in his eyes gave her hope.
“Take me to the woods where you found me and help me find my way home.”
He glanced away. “Impossible.”
When he returned his gaze to her, his jaw set tight. “’Twill be for the best if you forget this strange tale. For your safety, you must never speak of it. Others might accuse you of delving in the dark arts.”
Heat rose from her toes as dread filled her veins. She hadn’t thought of that. They’d brand her a witch. Condemn her to death. She needed to get the hell out of here.
He gave a quick nod, reached over and patted her hand. “Aye. ’Twill be best to keep this our wee secret. I have claimed you and that puts you under my protection. Only Stephen, who you met in the wood, and Beth, my sister, ken what happened this past night. ’Twill be safest to keep it that way.”
“But—”
He raised a hand. “For your protection I contrived an explanation for your unexpected appearance. ’Twill be said you are the daughter of a deceased French noble. You shall be heralded as the Lady Laurie Bernard. My brother is in France with Beth’s betrothed. We will make it known they sent you to us to be companion to Beth. In time, I will make you mine in truth. Nary a one will dare question you.”
“What do you mean by make you mine in truth?”
“Aye, we will keep this secret between the four of us. Beth and Stephen can be trusted to do as I request.” Patrick stood, avoiding eye contact.
She’d risked telling him the truth and he didn’t believe her. What was she going to do? She couldn’t stay—
Pulling her from her seat, he hurried her out of the room before she collected her thoughts and screamed at him. He grasped her by the elbow, led her through the passageway, and up a circular stair. He moved in such a rush, she could hardly keep up, never mind argue with the damn man.
Oh, but she would.