A Slip In Time (27 page)

His aunt, Beitris, led the charge of
onrushers, her graying braids swinging madly. Suddenly, Rae found
himself swamped by a sea of jabbering people. He held up his hands
and called for quiet.

Beitris bustled forward, the fiery-haired
twins, Calum and Caitlin, clinging to her skirts.

“They’re gone, the two o’ them!”
Beitris exclaimed, round-eyed. “We couldna stop them, try though we
did.”

“Who tried, Beitris?” Calum crooked
his neck to look up at her.

“We did, laddie. Shush
now.”

“Nay, we didna,” Caitlin vowed with
great certainty. At Beitris’s stern look, the lassie caught her lip
then shrugged. “Weel, we didna try verra hard.”

Rae cleared his throat, impatient to
begin his search, but swallowed a smile nonetheless. “Beitris, who
is gone?”

“Moira and Malcolm MacChlerich, o’
course.”

Rae’s brows shot upward. Here, he’d
tried for weeks to get MacChlerich and his daughter to leave.
Somehow, Beitris had accomplished the feat in less than a day. He
tried not to look as pleased as he felt.

“And just how did tha’ come aboot?”
Rae pulled his brows together, exhibiting proper concern. “No one
here was offendin’ or inhospitable tae our guests, were they
now?”

“On my soul, nay! ‘Twas none o’ us.
The lass needed no help oot the door, I can tell ye tha’. She ran
straight oot, leavin’ her belongin’s behind.”

Rae cast his gaze over the faces
around him and found their expressions remained uneasy.

“Dhia.
What has happened here, Beitris?”

“A
hant
,” Caitlin declared in her small
voice. “She attacked Moira on the stairs.”

“She?”

“A
green lady
,” Calum said solemnly,
darting a nervous glance back toward the alcove. “Moira said ‘twas
Isobel.”

Rae’s gaze sheered to Beitris. He
found her nodding in agreement as did the others.

“Is this some piece o’ mischief? Wha’
are ye bletherin’ aboot?”

“Och, nephew, ye know wha’
a superstitious lass Moira is, always fearin’ there’s somethin’
evil lurkin’ in every nook. She started up the stairwell, and no
sooner left our sight when she started screechin’ and screamin’.
Och, ‘twas a fearsome sound, turned my bluid
cauld,
it did. Moira came runnin’
back in tae the hall. A wild-eyed creature, she was, tearin’ at her
hair. She said a woman dressed in green threw her against the wall
— a blond woman, Isobel.”

Suspicion climbed through Rae as Beitris
continued.

“Malcolm went after Moira but couldna
convince her tae come back. They made a hasty departure from
Dunraven, Moira still ravin’ like a madwoman, claimin’ Isobel didna
want her in her chamber.”

“Her
chamber?”

“Isobel’s. Yer chamber, now. Moira
said she was near tae yer chamber door.”

“Ah, I see.” Rae mulled her words,
then frowned. “Nay, I dinna see. Wait, I do. I think.”

Julia.
‘Twas obvious Moira had seen Julia. Isobel, too, was blonde,
and Moira’s mistake understandable. Yet, in order for Moira to have
actually seen Julia, she must have found his healing
stone.

“I hope ye dinna set yer hopes on
marryin’ the lass,” Beitris’s voice broke his flow of thoughts.
“Moira MacChlerich willna be back. She vowed she wouldna live in a
keep plagued wi’ spirits, not for any reason, or for anyone, even
Dunraven’s laird.” Beitris cut her eyes up at him. “I hope yer no’
too upset, nephew,” she added dryly, looking not one crumb
remorseful herself for having lost their guests.

Rae could not help himself. He grinned
widely. Picking up his aunt, he whirled her around and gave her a
huge, smacking kiss full on her lips. Plopping her down again, he
hastened for the stairwell.

Moira must have been
actually holding the stone when she encountered the “green lady,”
Rae reasoned. As he reached the alcove, he halted. What if Moira
had kept the stone and taken it with her?
An invisible
hand fisted his heart.

“Why are ye waitin’?” Calum spoke from
behind him. “Are ye afeard o’ the hant?”

Rae glanced up the stairwell then back
again. “Nay, laddie, but the torches are no’ lit.”

‘Twas truth. Rae guessed his kinsmen
were almost as superstitious as Moira and feared the
stairs.

Rae called for a taper
then turned to Calum. “Stay wi’ Beitris, now, in case Moira told ye
true and there
is
a
hant
aboot.” He gave the boy a wink.

Calum’s eyes widened at that and he
scampered back across the hall.

Taper in hand, Rae mounted the lower stairs
and lit the first of the torches, mindful to watch where he trod.
With the help of the light he scanned each step for sign of his
stone. Slowly, he advanced up the stairs, lighting the next torch
in its bracket. But as the taper burned toward his fingers, he was
forced to search at a quicker pace.

Venting a frustrated breath, Rae
quickened up the last of the steps, just below his chamber door,
and fired the torch there. Extinguishing the taper, he laid it
aside and turned. Something sparkled in the fluttering light, two
steps above where he stood.

Rae’s heart leapt
at the sight of his stone gleaming there. Reaching out, he
lay hold to it, and in that same instant, a form appeared before
him, a woman gowned in green, sprawled unconscious on the steps.
Julia.

Rae scarce contained his
emotions as
he climbed the
steps and dropped to his knees beside her. Slipping his arms
underneath her, he caught Julia up and stood to his feet. She was
as cold as winter ice. Her head lolled to one side, and her arm
slid from where it lay, across her chest. Rae’s gaze fell to the
bodice of her gown, the cloth torn over her breast.

A blind fury swept through
his soul,
accompanied by
a
galloping fear for Julia and what she might have suffered.
Securing her against him, he kicked open the chamber door and
carried her inside, directly to his bed.

Rae placed Julia in the
middle of the wide
mattress, atop the
counterpane,
then paused long enough to repair the
chain of his talisman with the tip of his dirk.

Pulling the silver linkage and stone over
his head, he hastened back to the stairs and seized the torch from
its bracket. Swiftly, he flamed the blocks of peat in the
fireplace, then returned the brand to its holder outside and
barred the chamber door.

Julia looked pale as the moon, her
skin translucent. ‘Twas not a good sign. He considered whether his
descendant, Lord Muir, and his friends were present on the other
side of time, and whether they could see Julia and what he need do
for her.

He must take that risk, he
deemed.
She must be warmed thoroughly and quickly,
afore she took deathly ill. A
s a
precaution, Rae closed the curtains on three sides of the bed and
partially on the fourth, where he stood. Working quickly, he began
to remove Julia’s damp, clinging clothes.

A muscle leapt in his jaw as he
searched for the secret that would open one of the seams to her
gown. Logic told him ‘twould be to the front or back. He found
naught. Impatient, and judging the gown already ruined, he snatched
the dirk from his belt once more and slit the fabric from bodice to
hem.

A delicate wisp of a garment next confronted
him. It reached no further than her waist and delayed him not at
all as he dispensed with it as handily as he had the gown.

“
Saint’s
bones,”
Rae muttered to discover Julia
caged in another of her cursed corsets. Well, that could be dealt
with readily enough, too. Rolling her onto her side, he sliced
through the laces then tossed the offensive piece to the floor,
along with her mangled gown and the other piece of
frippery.

Julia stirred, then sank back into her
sleep. He knew he’d need finish his task before she woke and could
object, mistaking his intentions.

Easing Julia onto her back, Rae faced his
next challenge, a peculiar garment, its scanty top joined at the
waist to loose breeches, all made of a fine, thin cloth and adorned
with ribbon and lace.

“Och, ye women o’ the
future wear too many clothes and no’ a one o’ them practical.
Little wonder yer half frozen,” he grumbled, though he felt his
blood heat as he gazed on
her, the fabric partially
transparent.

Rae commanded his gaze to
the long row of buttons down the garment’s front. Centering his
attention there, he fumbled with the little knobs but made no
progress. Applying his blade once more, he nipped off the buttons,
sending them bouncing and scattering
over
the bed and floor.

Rae continued to work
apace and separated the
fabric. His mouth went dry at
the sight of her creamy flesh, but he hauled his gaze away and
stripped the cloth free of her arms, peeling it past her waist,
hips, and thighs.

Och, surely he was mad to
choose this course, or would be by the time he was done. Rae fought
the tide of desire rising within him, as he finished drawing off
the beribboned garment along with the stockings covering her lower
legs.
Lifting Julia, he drew back the counterpane and
linens long enough to settle her beneath them, then covered her to
the chin. He
doubted it would be enough to
warm her as swiftly as needed. He could offer her his own
heat,
but,
Dhia,
he was not made of rock.

Setting his jaw, he
unbelted his plaid and
pulled off his shirt. Wearing
naught but his healing stone,
he slipped
beneath the coverings and stretched out alongside
Julia
.

Dhia,
but she was like ice. He grit his teeth and began rubbing
warmth into her limbs. What could have befallen his beloved, he
wondered. Why was she unconscious on the steps with her dress
torn?

Whoever did this, he’d dispatch the
two-legged jackal when he found him. The creature could be
assured.

Shifting his weight to
better encompass Julia, Rae dropped a kiss to her temple, achingly
aware of her
beneath
him.

»«

Julia awakened in a cocoon of warmth.
Delicious, she thought hazily, snuggling against a surprisingly
solid, yet comfortable pillow. The very core of her bones radiated
with heat, and yet she remembered feeling so bitterly cold not long
ago.

She began to slip again
into a honeyed sleep, aware only of a steady thumping beneath her
ear. Like the beat of a heart. She sighed and thought of Rae,
rubbing her cheek against her pillow. It even carried his
distinctive, masculine scent and felt just as she had
imagined
his bare, hair-roughened chest would feel.
She smiled at her delectable, wanton dream and
turned her face to press a kiss to her pillow.

“Julia.
Mo cáran.”

The pillow moved beneath her head, Rae’s
voice rousing her. Julia’s lashes flew open and Rae’s lightly
furred chest came into view.

“Julia. Are ye all right?”

Her voice wedged in her throat as she
realized this was no sleep-induced fantasy. Their bodies were
somehow wrapped together and from all she could tell, wholly
unclad.

“I found ye on the
stairs,
Mo cáran.
Wha’ befell ye? Who did ye this harm? Tell me the vermin’s
name and I’ll deal wi’ him straightway.”

As Rae spoke, the day
rushed back to her, Lord Eaton’s assault at the burn, her being
trapped in the stairwell, all of it, except this portion, lying
abed with
Rae, naked in each other’s arms.

Julia pulled her eyes from his chest and
shoulders and dared glance up. She dared not glance down, she
knew, or move one whit.

“Where are my clothes?
Where are
your
clothes?”

“Och, lass, tha’ needs some explainin’
but ‘tisna wha’ ye be thinkin’.”

“And what am I thinking?”

“Tha’ I undressed ye tae take
advantage of ye, but ‘tisna—”

“You
undressed me?”

“Aye, ‘twas necessary. Yer
clothes were damp
wi’ cauld
and ye, a block o’ ice. I needed tae put some heat in tae yer
bones, afore ye caught yer death. I didna think ye’d mind if I
shared my heat wi’ ye.”

“N-no, I don’t, not at all. I’m quite
warm now. Thank you.”

He didn’t take the hint to rise or
move away. Indeed, he didn’t seem at all mindful that they lay
chest to toes, flesh to flesh, bare as newborn babes.

“‘
Twas the best I
could think tae do for ye,
mo
cáran.
But, wha’ happened? I take it ye
met Moira on the stairs. Yer dress was torn and ye were
unconscious. Surely she didna do tha’.”

“Moira? The blond woman?” At his nod
she shook her head. “No. I am the one who frightened her. She ran
off.”