Strathlachan
She didn’t mean to be a burden, but Laurie’s dismal mood hung over the group like the dark clouds cluttering the sky. As the day grew short, the gentle breeze changed into a fierce howling wind, slowing the group’s progress along the ridge.
“Lady Elspeth, a storm’s coming. We might find protection from the wind in the forest,” Duncan raised his voice above the din.
“Aye,” Elspeth agreed.
Duncan led them into the shelter of the trees, following a game trail. The tight path weaved through dense undergrowth. Branches caught loose clothing and scratched exposed skin, forcing their pace to a slow walk. All was quiet, save for the wind whistling through the limbs overhead. There was no sign of animals or birds, as if the turbulence sent them seeking shelter.
Near dusk, the hushed group rode into the stable yard, wind whipping around them. Leaves and twigs, and blowing dust swirled in eddies, making it difficult to see.
The men dismounted and several grooms came running. The boys caught the stallions’ reins and led them away. The men grabbed hold of the mares’ reins and guided the horses into the protection of the stable where the women could dismount out of the biting wind.
One of the guardsmen assisted Laurie from her horse. She thought his name might be Dhughall, but she wasn’t sure. A chill crept into her bones. Pulling Patrick’s plaid close around her, she slipped out a hand and rubbed her mare’s neck, wordlessly thanking the gentle beast for carrying her safely to shelter.
Bleak numbness pervaded her mind. She didn’t want to face her failure, not yet.
She attempted a smile for the guardsman after he removed the pannier from her horse and slung the leather bag over his shoulder. He inclined his head and turned away. Duncan and the other guardsman also carried panniers over their shoulders, having taken them from Aine and Elspeth’s horses.
The group left the calm of the stable, the men carefully assisting the women down the slippery slope toward the beach. The wind whipped at them, whirling around, tugging at their clothing.
When they reached the water’s edge, Duncan signaled to the other shore for the oarsmen to row the boats across to the mainland. Laurie watched as they made their way through the choppy water. White caps splashed against the hulls, tossing the salty spray at the oarsmen, soaking them.
The Highlanders were well accustomed to these fierce conditions, but she wasn’t. She pulled Patrick’s plaid tighter, apprehension spurring her to say a silent prayer.
The boats beached and the men handed the women over to sit on the wooden benches. The small craft bobbed in the surf, forcing her to grip the gunwale. The three men jumped in.
With an order from Duncan, the oarsmen were pushing away from shore when a ghillie came running. “Wait!” he called, yelling over the crash of the waves and the screaming wind. He sprinted to the water’s edge where he bent over, placed his hands on his knees and gulped air.
“Hold up,” Duncan ordered the oarsmen as he jumped over the side of the boat and joined the lad on the shingle.
“The chief requests the castle folk make ready to receive the injured Ruari MacLachlan.” Even though short of breath from his run, the ghillie still managed to get out his message in a loud, clear voice.
“Lad, do you ken what happened to Ruari?” Duncan shouted.
The ghillie inhaled a deep breath and yelled back, “Nae.”
Elspeth faced Duncan, concern showing in her silver eyes. “The men will have to move slower to accommodate a litter. They may get caught in the storm.”
“Dinnae fash yourself, lass. Your brother and Stephen will ensure they get through.”
“I thank you for bringing the message,” Elspeth said to the young man. “Ride across with us and partake of a meal.”
“Aye. Thank you kindly.” The ghillie climbed into the boat with Aine and Laurie and one of the guardsmen, making for a tight fit.
Duncan climbed into the boat with Elspeth and ordered the oarsmen to proceed. The boats moved through the rough water to the castle, salt spray misting everyone.
Upon reaching the castle’s beach, they climbed from the boats and hiked up the slight hill to the gate. Once in the courtyard, one of the guardsmen and Aine took the panniers and headed to the kitchen, the ghillie following. The rest of the group ascended the wheel stair.
A hush fell over the room when they entered the hall, already crowded with men and a few women seated at the lower tables.
Miserable from the day’s fiasco, Laurie dropped onto a bench at the first table she came to. She didn’t know how to assist these people in the preparations for the injured man though she worried about his condition. She didn’t think she could cope with the deficiencies of primitive medicine up close.
Her stomach rolled. Thank God, she hadn’t eaten much.
She sat alone at the trestle table, Elspeth and Duncan having left the hall intent on their preparations for the injured man. Some of the men seated at a nearby table stared at her with open curiosity. Others ignored her. None of them sought conversation with her.
After a short time, Aine entered the hall and covered one of the tables near the hearth with a white cloth. A serving girl followed, placing a cauldron of water on a hook over the fire. Another appeared carrying a large earthenware ewer. A third brought a stack of clean cloths. The latter items they placed near the cloth-covered table.
Elspeth returned to the hall, having removed her damp clothing. She’d donned a long white linen leine that graced her ankles. Over top, she wore a striped wool arisaid, a cloak that fell to her heels, fastened at her breast by a beautiful silver and moonstone brooch and belted at her waist with leather and chain. Laurie learned shortly after her arrival the arisaid was the traditional dress of Highland women, though Elspeth, being nobility, most often wore gowns similar to those worn by women in France.
Elspeth carried two baskets, one contained bandages made from rags, a needle and thread, the other nearly overflowed with small pots and pouches. She placed these at the end of the table and joined Aine in a hushed conversation.
Laurie only heard a fragment of what they said—a word here and there.
She observed the activity in the hall as if watching a film. She found it appalling how useless she was in this time. On top of that, her failure to return home left her feeling inept and unsure. She was lost in a world not her own.
What if I’m stuck in this barbaric place? What if I can never go home?
Her stomach clenched and she found it hard to breathe. The old warning rang true. You needed to be careful of what you wished. She’d wanted a new life, but being stuck here was definitely not what she had in mind.
She was wallowing in self-pity. But who would blame her? She was damp and dirty. Hungry. Stuck in this world.
Her depression blinded her to most of the activity around her. Motion near the doorway at the other end of the great hall drew her gaze. Donald MacLachlan leaned against the passageway wall just outside the rear entrance. He was in an animated conversation—arms flailing—with a woman Laurie didn’t recognize. More than likely a serving girl based on the way she was dressed.
Donald suddenly froze and stared into the hall to where the preparations for the injured man were taking place. He tilted his head and whispered something to his companion. The woman responded in a low voice and departed.
He strode to Elspeth. “What has happened, niece?”
She twisted to face him. “I did not ken you were in the castle.”
“I returned after dawn from the southern border. What are these preparations?”
“We received a message from Patrick of an accident.”
“Has your brother been wounded?”
“Nae, thank the Good Lord.” Elspeth made the sign of the cross. “It’s our herdsman Ruari. They bring him to the castle for tending.”
“I told your brother there would be more trouble. He must resolve this quarrel with Lamont. If he agreed to the marriage with Isobell the conflict would cease.”
Isobell? Marriage? Laurie’s ears perked.
“We dinnae ken what happened. What makes you think Lamont was involved?”
Donald looked like he was about to retort when he stopped with his mouth half-open.
Laurie swiveled her head to the open window, where a noisy disturbance came from the courtyard below. The commotion moved up the stairs and the door to the hall slammed open. Patrick and Stephen entered, water dripping from their hair and plaides.
Behind them, two of Patrick’s men carried a litter with the injured man up the awkward circular stone steps. Entering the hall with their burden, they set the litter beside the table where Aine indicated. They placed the man on his back atop the table while the rest of the men gathered round.
Aine examined the man, searching for injuries while she moved her hands over his body. The entire time, she shook her head and made tsking sounds.
Almost everyone in the hall moved to stand around the table. They were silent, waiting for Aine’s assessment. Laurie moved with the group, though she watched as an outsider, not a participant.
Patrick’s uncle stared at her. She used the corner of the plaid she wore to wipe some of the salt residue from her face. She must look a mess.
He gave a slight nod and looked away, relieving some of the tension in her shoulders.
“I cannae find any injury.” Aine wiped her hands on a wet cloth. “Naught but this whappin’ bump on his head. What has happened to the lad?”
Patrick shook his head. “We dinnae ken.”
His uncle stepped forward. “I warned you, nephew. If you did not fulfill your father’s wish and marry Isobell Lamont our people would pay the price.”
Laurie tensed. That was the second time Donald said the name Isobell and the subject of marriage in the same sentence with reference to Patrick. She raised her tired eyes to Patrick. His gaze burned her, then he quickly turned away to glare at his uncle.
“Hold your tongue, old man,” he bellowed.
His uncle’s face contorted into a nasty grimace, but he remained silent, and stepped back from the crowd. His face reddened with anger.
“There’s nothing for me to do for Ruari, but try to make him comfortable,” Aine said.
“Naught?” Patrick’s eyes shone with turbulent emotion. “Are you sure there is naught we can do for the lad?”
“Bide an’ see,” she said.
Duncan stepped forward from behind the others and peered at Ruari. “I have seen injuries like this afore. Some men never waken.”
“We’ll need to rearrange sleeping quarters to accommodate the lad. Move Lady Laurie’s things into Lady Elspeth’s bedchamber and prepare mine for Ruari,” Patrick ordered. “Someone is to be with him at all times.”
Aine hurried from the hall.
“Beth, you will share your bedchamber with Lady Laurie until Ruari recovers.”
“I dinnae mind. She is my sister.”
“That is good.” Patrick nodded. “Now run along and help Aine. And take Lady Laurie with you.” Glancing at Laurie, he raised an eyebrow. “She appears to have had a disappointing day.”
Laurie frowned. What did he mean by that remark? Their eyes met again and held. Did he know what she’d been up to? She shivered and broke the contact, glancing away, her unsettled emotions swirling.
The last thing she wanted was for Patrick to realize she planned to return home.
* * *
Later that evening, Patrick surveyed the hall, the tic throbbing beneath his eye, an annoyance. His rage bubbled below the surface.
The repast had been a quiet affair with only a small amount of stilted conversation. Lady Laurie sat at the high table at his left, looking much better than she had earlier. Healthy color had returned to her cheeks. Stephen sat on her other side while Elspeth took the place to Patrick’s right with Uncle Donald next to her.
At the lower tables, a somber mood prevailed with his people concerned for Ruari. The clansmen bantered over much conjecture as to how the lad became injured. Most were ready to blame the Lamonts. As was he.
“Patrick, you must listen to reason,” Donald said, breaking the silence at the high table with his thundering voice. “The Lamonts will continue to raid our land if you dinnae fulfill the promise of your father and marry the lass.”
There was a collective intake of breath and all gazes shot to Patrick.
Stiffening, he slowly twisted his torso to look past his sister to his uncle, fury burned in his gut. “You ken there was never a promise. I will not bring the daughter of our enemy into this house to mother my sons.”
“You must wed Isobell Lamont.”
“Nae. That I will never do.”
Before the argument could escalate, the two scouts who’d gone to Ruari’s hut entered the hall and strode to the dais to report. They told a bloody tale of devastation, burned huts and torched fields, cattle gone. The other two herdsmen dead. Murdered.
Jumping from his seat, Donald slapped his hand hard on the table in front of Patrick. “I told you.”
He ignored his uncle’s outburst and stood before his clan. “This dishonorable deed was surely the work of the Lamonts. In that much, my uncle is correct. The time has come to retaliate. We must plan our strategy. To the council chamber.”
Benches scraped across stone. Voices raised in debate as the men of the clan left the great hall to climb the wheel stair to the council hall above.
Before he left the dais, Patrick darted a glance at Laurie. Her alarmed expression tore at his heart. He didn’t care for the pallid cast to her skin. The day’s events must have upset her, but as much as he wished to ease her heartache, he couldn’t coddle her.
Nor could he allow her to return to the future. Faerie magic was far too unpredictable. Too dangerous. Yanking his thoughts back to the problem with the Lamonts, he strode from the chamber with his men.
Laurie rose to follow, but Elspeth placed a hand on her arm to stay her. “’Tis a matter for the men.”
“What do you mean? Oh, I forgot. Women aren’t included in politics.” She hadn’t meant for her frustration to show in her tone of voice, yet it had.
Elspeth arched a brow. “Nae. Of course not.”
“Well, where I come from women are involved in political affairs. Aren’t you concerned about what the men will decide?”
“Aye. They will tell us after the council is concluded.”
Laurie ground her teeth. “Don’t you think they should include you in making a decision that will affect the future of your clan?”
“You have some unusual ideas. Let us go to my chamber and you can tell me about the women of your time.” Elspeth’s wary gaze shifted to those seated around them when she realized her slip. No one seemed to notice, too busy with personal speculation.
Laurie shook her head. She’d never get used to the role women played in this society. With a sigh, she followed Elspeth from the hall.
They ascended the circular stone steps. At this late hour, torches lit the stairs and passageways. Elspeth also carried a small lantern. When they reached the second level, Elspeth stopped and placed the lamp in a small niche in the wall. She put a finger to her lips, signaling for silence.
“Why so secretive?” Laurie asked in a whisper.
Elspeth shook her head and tapped the finger against her lips. She extended her arm and brushed her hand along the stone wall, and then pressed hard against one of the stones. A portion of the wall fell back, exposing an opening into darkness. What had moments before appeared as solid stone became the gloomy entrance to a secret passageway.
A chill of apprehension skittered along Laurie’s spine. Elspeth clasped her hand again, shaking her head when Laurie opened her mouth to say something more. The young woman guided her into the darkness, stepping cautiously. The doorway closed behind them with a muffled thud.
Laurie gasped softly. Elspeth stopped and gave her damp hand a gentle squeeze. Her heart thumping hard, Laurie stood motionless, listening.
Muted voices came from nearby. It took willpower to trust Elspeth and stay quiet. Laurie couldn’t catch her breath, claustrophobic in the confined space—in the darkness. She’d always been afraid of the dark. Fearing spiders waited in their webs ready to pounce on those who dared the shadowy places. Her skin prickled and she shivered.
After a moment, her eyes adjusted to the dimness. To the right she felt hard stone. To the left was an unusual wooden wall woven like a basket. Filtered light entered the hidden passageway from between slats.
Elspeth squeezed her hand again, and tugged her farther along the passage. Laurie took careful steps, brushing her free hand along the stones to her right. As they moved, the voices became more distinct. Soon she recognized Patrick’s voice and realized where they were. She remembered the slatted wall from the other side.
When she’d first arrived, she’d toured the castle with Duncan and Elspeth and seen the council chamber.
She and Elspeth were at this moment hidden from the council by an elaborate wooden screen with slats weaved in a complicated Celtic design. The partition stood behind the large stone dais platform.
The reason they heard Patrick’s voice clearly.