A Slip In Time (34 page)

“If ye please, call me by my God-given
name, Rae. I am no’ a man o’ pretenses, and in truth, I am still
unused tae my new title.”

Lord Muir nodded in understanding. “We
would very much like to speak with you at greater length, during
coming time slips. Perhaps, you would consider examining the
accounts that have come down to us of your ancestors, correcting or
adding anything that need be.”

Rae dragged on his chin in thought.
“‘Tis agreeable on condition.”

“Laird, Rae . . .” Mr. Thornsbury sat
forward in his chair. “We are unable to divulge any information —
Scottish history after your time, for example — which might result
in your altering the past, even inadvertently. Your being here even
now, witnessing the future, poses risks.”

“Ye hae my solemn word, I willna
attempt tae change the past in any wise. But wha’ I would ask
concerns Julia.”

A look of visible relief passed around the
table.

Turning to Julia, Rae covered her hands with
his.

“I wish yer promise tae care for Julia
when I can no longer be aboot. She has grown special tae my heart,
and ‘tis proud I am tae confess it. My own heart will beat easier,
if I know she has others tae watch o’er her.”

“Then be at peace.” Lord Muir smiled
kindly. “Julia is already as a daughter to me, and I believe the
others fancy themselves her adopted uncles as well. We shall all
see to her future and well-being.”

The other three rumbled their
concurrence.

“Ye hae my deepest thanks.” Rae
released a breath. “My only other wish is tae see wha’ has become
o’ Dunraven. Julia tells me ‘tis much increased these days and my
hall stands nae more.”

“Easily done.” Lord Muir smiled in
earnest now.

“There are many guests about the
castle,” Sir Henry pointed out. “Since Rae is quite visible,
perhaps they should be sent away.”

“Or formally introduced.” All eyes
turned to Mr. Armistead. At their looks, his confidence visibly
wavered. “We might introduce Rae as another of our colleagues,
whose specialty is fifteenth-century Scotland.”

“The others know we have been
expecting several more of our associates from the Society,” Mr.
Thornsbury added.

“Rae’s sudden appearance wouldn’t
raise undue suspicion. We could say he arrived during the
night.”

“Yes, I believe it could work.” Lord
Muir’s eyes brightened as he considered the possibility. “Excepting
a few meals, none of us from the Society have mingled with the
visitors from Braxton. We’ll do just that. With the arrival of
another of our members, it would be fitting to hold a small
reception.” Lord Muir sat back in his chair. “We’ll need to hold it
in late evening, during a time shift, of course. But, no matter. We
men of the Society are considered a tad eccentric, are we
not?”

“Is it not risky?” Julia quickly
posed. “The others might ask him any manner of questions or allude
to simple things we take for granted but of which he has yet to
learn. He would be unable to even recognize a portrait of the
Queen.”

Julia’s fears ran far deeper than what
she could reveal in Rae’s presence. What if someone from Braxton
should recount the more notable and distressing episodes of
Scotland’s history, such as the English butchery of the Scots at
Culloden or the destruction of the Highland system of clanship.
There was no telling how Rae might react.

“One or two of us can accompany Rae at
all times, and keep the conversation directed to safe ground —
hunting and fishing and Rae’s own areas of expertise, the
fifteenth-century Highlands. We really must attempt this, my dear.
Short of keeping Rae locked in your chamber, we’ll not be able to
keep him a secret for long.”

Julia shot Rae a warning glance lest
he proclaim he’d like nothing better than to remain locked with her
in her bedchamber.

“You are right of course. Tom has
already seen Rae, in the Long Gallery just as we came
here.”

As Julia and Rae rose to leave, Lord Muir
accompanied them to the door.

“I must offer a caution, Rae, the same
one I gave Julia. Take extra care when time is in the course of
shifting so you are not passing through stone walls or standing in
parts of the castle that do not exist in your past. It would make
for a long and damaging fall to the ground below. The tower library
here is safe, I should think, since it stands in your own
time.”

Rae grinned. “‘Twill no’ be safe if I
appear in the women’s sleepin’ quarters. My aunt, Beitris, will
blister my ears for that!”

Lord Muir laughed. “So I can imagine.
I had a peppery aunt of my own. Until tomorrow then, when once
again, the lairds of Dunraven will entertain in style.”

Rae dressed with care, donning his
best saffron-dyed shirt and a new plaid, woven in the soft hues of
the autumn hills, brown and heather.

Bringing the plaid over his shoulder,
he pinned it with a large circular brooch, ornamented with
intricate silver work and bearing a central stone of rock crystal,
surrounded by eight large pearls. ‘Twas said to have been a gift of
the Bruce to a Mackinnon ancestor, the brooch a twin to the King’s
own which he later lost in battle at Dairy when an attacker tore
the Bruce’s cloak from him.

Tonight, given the evening’s event,
Rae decided to wear the treasured piece, passed down from his
forefathers, a symbol of his own lairdship whether the others would
recognize its meaning or not.

Rae clenched his jaw, feeling a twinge
of guilt. He should have taken watch tonight but sent Lachlan and
Ewen in his stead. On the morrow, he would need attend to matters
he’d been neglecting, especially those concerning Donald’s coming
marriage, which would take place in roughly two weeks’
time.

But he’d not miss the opportunity of
this night to visit Dunraven four centuries hence and the people
assembled there to meet him. ‘Twas more than mere curiosity that
burned in his chest. In truth, he suspected the cur who had
attacked Julia would be in attendance. Presumably, Dunraven was as
isolated from the outside world in the future as it was in the
past. Surely, the man guilty of the offense resided at the castle
itself.

Rae’s gaze drew to
his
claidheamh mor
where it lay across the bed. He debated whether he should
belt it on. Instead, he picked up his long, scabbarded dirk and
secured it in the front of his belt. He would need nothing
more.

Stepping back beside the hearth where
he could be sure no furniture would appear from the future, he
waited for time to shift. When at last it did, the room livened
instantly with color — blues and creams rising from the carpet,
pale green warming the chairs, and rich sapphire illumining the
trappings of the great Flemish bed.

Julia sat at the table in the center
of the room, her maid, Betty, dressing her hair. Betty’s eyes
rounded wide at his sudden appearance. With a strangled squeak,
she dropped the comb in her hand and fled the room.

Rae shared an amused but sympathetic
chuckle with Julia as she looked at him. Her gaze then flowed over
him with approval. Ach, but she was a vision herself, her gown of
some frothy material all of white with pale pink blossoms cascading
down one side of the skirt and her hair swept back and woven with
pearls.

As he crossed to her, she rose and
filled his arms. He drew a kiss from her sweet lips then nibbled at
her ear.

“Mayhap, we should remain here in the
chamber tonight.”

“Lord Muir would be greatly
disappointed.” She gave a delicate shudder as his lips moved to the
curve of her neck. “But there is something I would like to show you
before we leave.”

Dipping from beneath his advances,
Julia caught his hand and led him toward the bed. Rae’s lips spread
in a smile only to slacken a moment later as he spied books, open
and spread over the mattress, hindering any use of it.

“We don’t have much time, Rae, but you
really should familiarize yourself with a picture of the Queen and
a few other things that are common in our day, that is, in eighteen
hundred and ninety-three. Ah, here it is,” she said, leaning
forward and plucking up the largest of the books.

On first sight, Rae’s eyes could make
little sense of what she called a “picture.” He turned his head
sideways.

“It’s a photograph,” she explained,
which helped not at all.

Suddenly, the image congealed and a
round, glum-faced woman stared out at him from the page. A snowy
caplet topped her equally white hair, and her gown was plain and
unimpressive, entirely of black. Her mouth pulled down at the
corners as if weighted with iron.

“Och, now there’s a sour
dook.”

“Rae, that is Queen
Victoria.”

“Queen or no’, for all her royal
privilege, she looks tae be a sore unhappy woman.”

Julia nodded with a sigh. “She is. The
queen declared her life ended the day her husband died. She adored
Prince Albert. It may be of interest to you that they both loved
the Highlands passionately and built Balmoral Castle on the River
Dee. The queen is in residence there now as she is every
autumn.”

Julia’s gaze returned to the picture.
“Queen Victoria has worn widow’s weeds since the Prince Consort’s
death, thirty-two years ago, and has devoted herself to preserving
his memory. Sad, isn’t it?”

Rae’s gaze brushed over Julia, concern
filling him as he reflected on these last days and their own fears
of being permanently separated.

“Ye must promise, ye’ll no’ be
mournin’ me like tha’ should Time close its door tae us for guid.
I’ll no hae ye wearin’ naught but black the rest o’ yer days or yer
bonnie face sourin’ like yer queen’s.”

Julia did not respond but directed his
attention to another photograph which, again, made little sense to
his eyes. When his vision adjusted, he realized he was looking upon
a likeness of a rather grand castle.

“This is Dunraven as it stands today
with its many additions. Tomorrow, we should walk the grounds so
you can see it in daylight.”

Rae found himself speechless, for Dunraven
had not only survived the centuries but grown to princely
proportions. It did his heart good to know that.

Julia next showed him something called
a “magazine” which contained many drawings of ladies whom Julia
assured were fashionably gowned, elaborate carriages, and such
things as rod-shaped writing instruments which ended in gold beaks.
Och, such waste and extravagance when a quill could easily be had
for the plucking just outside in the courtyard.

A firm knock sounded at the door and Julia
opened it to the smiling face of the Twenty-seventh Laird of
Dunraven.

“Are you ready to go down and meet the
others?” his distant relative asked, eyes sparkling.

“Tha’ I am, James Edwin. Tha’ I
am.”

»«

Julia accompanied the men along the
corridors, at times preceding them, at others following, as Rae
stopped continually to inspect whatever caught his interest.
Nothing engrossed him so completely as a display of sixteenth- and
seventeenth-century rapiers.

“Och, be these wha’ ye call swords in
yer day?” he snorted as he regarded the slender blades with their
fanciful hilts, shaped into cups, shells, swirls, and
loops.

“They may not look like much compared
to the hefty claymores and broadswords of your own time, but
they’ll slice a man to ribbons,” Lord Muir assured.

At Rae’s dubious look, Lord Muir
ushered him along, expounding on the merits of rapiers, which were
meant for thrusting not slashing.

“Och, ‘tis hard tae imagine such a
feeble bit o’ steel could do a body harm,” Rae rumbled as they
descended a richly carved staircase. He arched a brow. “Ye do still
use steel for your blades, d’ye no’, James Edwin?”

Moving into the newest sections of the
castle, Rae became so fascinated by what he saw, Julia and Lord
Muir had to encourage him to keep moving. He wished to stop and
scrutinize everything from the lighting fixtures and furnishings to
the enormous mirrors and elaborate plasterwork embellishing the
ceilings.

Julia wondered if the men’s decision
to host a reception was a good one after all. How would Rae be able
to cope with a room filled with people from a time far distant from
his own, when the very surroundings themselves threatened to
overwhelm him? How could he survive the night without drawing
suspicion that he was a man out of time? And how could they explain
it?

“Ah, we are almost there.” Lord Muir
pointed to a wide doorway at the end of the hall through which they
caught a glimpse of gowns and greenery. “I decided to hold the
gathering in the conservatory. As you will see, Rae, two of the
room’s walls are made entirely of glass. We won’t have the benefit
of being able to gaze out on the mountains and scenery as we would
during the day, but the conservatory is located at ground level.
Should time slip unexpectedly, you will not find yourself falling
some ghastly distance.”

As they drew near the door, Julia and the
men paused. Lord Muir gave both her and Rae a reassuring nod of his
head.