Lord of the Black Isle (11 page)

Elisabeth could not help wondering what he had been like back then, but she pushed such thoughts aside and went with Ailis to sit at the end of a long table, thankfully at the opposite end from where David sat. That did not, however, prevent him from holding Elisabeth in his gaze almost the entire time they were there. So she focused her attention on just about anything she could to get her mind off him, for if she were honest with herself, she was still terribly attracted to him, just as much as that day she first saw him. And since coming here, she thought quite often just how wonderful it would be to kiss him again. But she glanced at his stone-hardened face and thought,
Not
bloody
likely!
She gave herself a mental slap for such thoughts, for they did nothing to ease her situation. Fortunately, Ailis was rather talkative, which was a blessing, for Elisabeth only had to add an occasional comment or nod now and then in agreement.

Once the meal was over, the talking began to die down, and Elisabeth desperately hoped it would soon be time to retire. She was unusually tired and knew the stress of today's activities had taken their toll. At that particular moment, everyone began to stand, and not wanting to stand out, Elisabeth rose to her feet and glanced at Ailis for some indication as to what would happen next.

“Come, and I will walk upstairs with ye,” Ailis said. “I have no' the strength to remain down here any longer, and I ken ye are tired as well. Most of those who remain will be here for some time, and if they have whisky, they will stay even longer.”

As they walked, Elisabeth yearned to inquire about Lord Kinloss but did not wish it to come across as prying, nor would she want to give even the remotest hint that she was interested in him as a man. It was best if he thought he did not interest her in the least, for it would only make things more difficult. Yet, even as she thought it, she could not seem to shake the memory of when he kissed her, and she had most certainly kissed him back.

“What about your mother? Was he close to her?”

Ailis's expression said she was surprised by the question, and Elisabeth put her hand on Ailis's arm and said, “Please forgive me. I did not mean to inquire about things that are none of my affair.”

Ailis smiled softly and replied, “David seemed to regret it wasn't him that died, instead of his older brothers. I truly dinna ken how he dealt with our father's criticism and managed to be respectful to a man who did not deserve it. Nothing David did seemed to be enough to please him. David is a remarkable warrior knight and has fought bravely many times and suffered great wounds, and there are none finer. He has all the qualities of a good leader, and our clansmen love him for his fair and honest ways.”

“I had no idea he was the youngest son. He seems older, but I can see how the things you have told me would make him appear that way.”

“He can be difficult at times, but he is a fair and generous leader of Clan Murray and the people respect him. Ye willna find anyone with more dignity or a man more honorable. But, he is accustomed to being obeyed and never having his word questioned. When he gives an order, he expects it to be complied with. I ken that when he is quiet and sullen, he is at war with himself. Part of him feels he must be that way; part of him yearns to be warm and loving. It saddens me that he did not have anyone to show him more love and affection when he was younger. Our mother was always in poor health, and although she loved him dearly, she was abed a great deal of the time.”

Elisabeth was shocked, to say the least, and quite at a loss for words. Ailis had said much for her to think about, and it did shed a great deal of light upon the character of Kinloss. Once they reached the door to her room, Elisabeth turned and took the hand of Ailis and said, “I thank you for sharing your thoughts on your brother. It makes him easier to understand. We are all, in some way, the victims of our past, and we are self-taught in the ways we develop to deal with it. I will see him in a different light, and I will now bid you a good night.”

“Good night, Elisabeth. I am so verra glad ye are here. Please consider me your friend.” She rose on her tiptoes and gave Elisabeth a kiss upon the cheek, then disappeared down the darkened hallway.

In her room, Elisabeth undressed quickly, pulled on a gown and washed her face, and never thought a bed could feel so good. She was emotionally drained, but sleep did not come to her right away, for thoughts of Lord Kinloss lingered in the back of her mind, and she could not help feeling pity for him. His was not an easy road to walk down, and she knew now that was why he was so hard on himself and everyone around him. He carried a great burden, and now he had lost his twin sister, which left him one remaining sibling. That would make anyone bitter. She realized she had seen him at his worst, for it was a terrible point in his life. That left her feeling small and petty for being so critical. She vowed to do her best to be more ladylike in the future.

She closed her eyes and was serenaded by the memory of a full, deep, sonorous voice that spoke Scots so deliciously that it seemed to fill every inch of a room, as would smoke from a clogged chimney. She thought of the way he looked today, with his melancholy face, the dark blue of his sad eyes, and the dark hair, all neatly wrapped up with his black cloak swirling about him.

What was it that made her feel both angry and sad whenever she thought of him? He seemed to be surrounded by an eternal fog of gloom, with his face set with an obstinate scowl as if he were determined not to accept any opinions other than his own or agree even a little with the wishes of others. Why did he stubbornly adhere to an opinion or course of action without allowing room for debate? And where on earth did he get his tight-lipped obstinacy? Couldn't he hear? Could he not see? And why was he so gentle and understanding when he rescued her? She couldn't help wondering which was the real Lord Kinloss, or would she, in time, discover one or two more?

And yet he was just about as sexy and compelling a man as she could recall meeting. Perhaps it was because he was such a strong and powerful figure. She sighed, closed her eyes, and said a prayer for the heartbroken earl and his family.

***

That would be the same heartbroken earl who decided the next day that she could not leave Aisling Castle.

“
What?
”

Elisabeth was certain she did not hear correctly. “Are you saying that you are holding me here because I did not save your sister? That is grossly and totally unfair! And mean! And it comes
after
I explained that it was impossible for
anyone
to save her at that point. Her illness had advanced beyond the point of no return. No one, short of God himself, could have saved her life. So, tell me, why am I being punished when I was taken against my will and brought here at breakneck speed, and I explained to you after I examined her that there was nothing humanly possible that could be done. It was too late before I arrived.”

“That is not why I am keeping ye here.”

“Then tell me, what reason could you have for keeping me here?”

“I find that it is guid to ha' a healer here, for we ha' no doctor nearby.”

“You cannot force me to stay here and be your doctor.”

“It is nothing that must be decided now. I ken yer presence is good for Ailis, and she is verra fond o' ye. I can see a change in her since ye arrived. And I ken ye would be nearing the end of yer time at St. Leonard's before too long and that ye would have to find a suitable place to devote yersel' to healing.”

“So, what happens next? Am I to whittle away my time here until an opportunity to practice medicine appears?” She did not know why she was attacking him on this, for she would never forget the intimacy that had passed between them and how often she thought of him after he left Soutra.

How could he tell her the truth? How could he make her understand how the memory of her had tormented him since he left her at Soutra Aisle? How could he make her understand how he had relived the few moments he had with her, or how the memory of having her lie beside him on their journey was something he thought of over and again. He wanted to lie with her even now, so shortly after the death of his sister, but he wanted her to want it as well, and he hoped that if he kept her here, she might just come to care for him. He did not want to let her go, and yet he could not give her a good reason for keeping her here. In the end, he simply said, “Ye will remain here until I decide what to do wi' ye.”

“This makes no sense. If you would only be reasonable, I am sure we…”

He brought his hand down and slammed it upon the table. “Enough! My sister is barely in the ground. I dinna want, nor do I have the time, to have this conversation wi' ye at the this moment,” he said, immediately realizing how hard he was being.

She crossed her arms over her middle. “You certainly had enough time to give orders to hold me as your prisoner.”

“Ye will remain here, mistress, and ye are no' being held as a prisoner. Ye are here until I give it some thought and broach the subject wi' ye, as I said.”

She started to say something curt, but the tenderness she felt for him begged her to back off, to cut him some slack. Besides, you know you want to be with him, and it is okay to have your pride, but don't overdo it, she thought. After all, there might be sick people here needing her help, but there were also sick people who needed her back at St. Leonard's. And such a situation made her think too much about how she missed Isobella, but she had already decided to withhold that bit of information from him, for the last thing she wanted was to cause problems for Alysandir Mackinnon, who had always been so very kind to her.

In the end, Elisabeth decided to stay out of the earl's way, but by the time she reached her room, her feelings toward him softened, for she did care for him and she was attracted to him, and what difference did it make if she stayed here for a while longer?

Jupiter, not wanting man's life to be wholly gloomy and grim,

has bestowed far more passion than reason—

you could reckon the ration as twenty-four to one.

Moreover, he confined reason to a cramped corner

of the head and left all the rest of the body to the passions.

—
Praise
of
Folly
(1509)

Desiderius Erasmus (c. 1466–1536)

Dutch humanist

With sun-kissed flames of auburn hair of the deepest hue, she was easy to spot, even when partially hidden behind the screen of trees running parallel to the garden wall. David stood at the window and watched her. She intrigued him, this strange-talking woman with the flashing green eyes and coppery hair. Who was this Elisabeth Douglas captured by the MacLeans—a lass who was a doctor at the Priory of St. Leonard's, by way of Soutra Aisle, who was a sister-in-law to Alysandir Mackinnon?

All in all, he knew precious little about her. It was said that a woman of auburn hair was of a gentle nature, and thus far she seemed to be so, but only time would confirm that. He had to admit he was doubtful, for he felt she would prove herself to be as difficult to deal with as a slaty ridge stubborned with iron. Aye, he knew precious little about her, but he would before he returned her to the priory.

Regarding her, he had a lot of questions and too few answers. Was she an angel in the guise of a doctor? Had she truly come to help, or was her reason of a darker nature? Aye, he needed answers, and before he let her go, he would have them.

Lastly, he thought about another, more important reason he kept her here, one born of the lustful thoughts he had for her, for he could not deny that he had thought of little else since first seeing her. His thoughts were too often filled with imaginings about what it would be like to make love to her until she cried out with pleasure. And something inside him told him she would be a woman who participated and was not shy to show her emotions. Simply put, he wanted her, and he wondered if he would be satisfied for long with merely making love to her. He could not deny the strong attraction he felt or the strange power she had over him—a power that made him want to keep her with him and wanted her to want it as much as he did.

She turned and looked toward the window where he stood, and he took a step back, lest she see him. He watched her walk through the garden gate and he turned away, for something about her reached out to him and drew him to her, so much that he went below stairs and out into the courtyard, where he turned toward the garden. He heard her laugh and it sent ripples of pleasure washing over him, drawing him deeper into the spell she cast about him like a gossamer net.

He stepped on a twig and heard her gasp as she turned around. When she saw him, she released a pent-up breath, her hand going to press against her breast. He envied that hand…

“You scared me,” she said, the fear not yet completely gone from her lovely eyes.

“I didna mean to frighten ye,” he replied, feeling suddenly inadequate and speechless around her. “There is naught fer ye to fear within the castle walls. We are well protected, and the Black Isle is not plagued with as many warring clans as other parts o' the Highlands. And we ha' no MacLeans here.”

She smiled at that and he felt awkward as a schoolboy. He looked around as a diversion, while he searched his mind for something to say. “Do ye like the garden?” he asked with a brooding shadow of inarticulateness, as his mind groped for words that would express all that he was feeling inside. Why was he quiet as a nun stumbling around in the dark with her when it came to expressing his personal feelings, yet with other subjects or expressing his displeasure toward her, he felt no limitations?

She laughed and repeated his question. “Do I like the garden? How could I not? I find it as glorious as a sunset, as calming as a visit with old friends.”

He felt the pull of her again, surrounding him this time like the silken thread of a spider reaching out to wrap itself around him, drawing him closer to spin him in a cocoon. Once there, he would never escape, and that made him consider if he would ever want to. And then he wondered, why her? Why this puzzling woman he barely knew?

As if sensing his discomfort, she pulled a glossy leaf from a tree and twirled it between her fingers. “I truly love your garden, for it is remindful of our garden at home, only ours was much larger, but then, the weather there is milder than it is here, so our growing season was also longer.” Her eyes widened suddenly and she said, “I should return now.”

She started around him, but he caught her by the arm. “There is no reason fer ye to leave simply because I am here or for ye to fear me. In spite o' what ye think, ye are safe wi' me.” He wanted to smile, for the expression on her face said she did not feel the least bit safe with him at all. Was that because she feared what he would do or what she might be persuaded to do? “Tell me of your garden at home.”

She seemed to relax a bit, and he was pleased to know his words had eased her discomfort.

“It is a lovely place, not far from the river. The swings my sister and I used as children are still there, or at least they were before we came here.”

Many of her words were foreign to him and spoken too rapidly. “What is this swing ye speak of?” He noticed how her lovely eyes seem to grow brighter, as if warmed by his interest.

“Oh… well, you tie two lengths of rope on a sturdy branch of a tree, about this far apart,” she said, showing him. “And you take a smooth plank of wood and put two holes in it on each end, like this, and run the rope through it and knot it on the bottom. Then you can sit in it and push yourself back with your feet. Then when you lift your feet, the rope will swing you forward, letting you move through the air quickly, then bring you back. It's something children love.”

“And ye love it as well?”

She smiled. “Oh, I do love it! I've been known to swing quite a few times, even as an adult. Perhaps that is because we are reluctant sometimes to let go of the things we remember as having brought us pleasure.”

“Where learned ye this?”

She looked uncomfortable and glanced quickly toward the castle, and he said, “Ye canna return until I give ye leave. Answer my question.”

“I learned it from my father.”

“Who is yer father?”

She said nothing.

“I will ask ye once more. Who is yer father?”

“Robert James Douglas.”

“A Lowlander…” He said the word as if it was something he wanted to spit from his mouth. “Where does yer family reside?”

“I would rather tell you later, Lord Kinloss.”

The title sounded terribly strange coming from her, and he knew it was not something that came naturally to her. “Ye may call me David, if it suits ye. I am no' so formal wi' my family and this is my home and not the English court, where ye must bow or curtsy to those of higher rank.”

She was about to remind him that she was neither family, nor a permanent resident in his home, but calling him David was much easier and more to her liking than Lord Kinloss, which sounded like a pedigreed Afghan hound at a dog show.

“Why should I wait when I want yer answers now?” he asked.

“Because you won't believe me when I tell you, and I'd rather go to bed tonight not worrying about when you are going to lop off my head.”

He tried, unsuccessfully, to hold back the smile that captured his mouth. His hand came out, and he cupped her chin and tilted her head upward so she looked directly at him. He searched her eyes and studied her face momentarily, then replied, “'Twould be an unforgivable sin to separate the face of Helen of Troy from the body of Venus. Now, tell me aboot yer strange speech, for 'tis no' Gaelic or English, so how come ye by it?”

She broke eye contact with him and looked down as she said, “It is the way they speak where I come from.”

“And where is this place ye speak of?”

He observed signs of her discomfort when she glanced around, as if she was seeking a place of solace or a foxhole to run into. “If I promise to tell you everything soon, will that suffice?”

“Nae, lass. I want yer answer now.”

She pulled a leaf from a tree and twirled it in her hands, gazing off for a moment. He knew she was trying to mentally separate herself from a difficult situation, but he felt no sympathy and would grant her no pardon. He watched her walk to a low-hanging bough and sit upon it. Her eyes grew wide when it creaked, but she did not make a move to get up. She carefully avoided making eye contact with him by looking around the garden and then released a long sigh.

“My reluctance is not because I don't want to tell you, but because when I do, you won't believe me, and then you will have all sorts of erroneous suspicions about me. For that reason, I truly would rather return to St. Leonard's and avoid such turmoil. You have no valid reason to keep me here.”

“Rank doth have its privileges… I need no
valid
reason to keep ye here, mistress.” He wondered why she was being so evasive. Was she afraid to tell him where she came from? He could not understand the way she seemed to fear him or, more so, fear what he might do if she told him the truth. How could asking her about her strange speech and where she was from cause so much distress? What was she hiding? “Why say ye that I willna believe ye? I am a learned man with much understanding.”

She shook her head. “Believe me, what I could tell you would be far, far beyond your understanding or the understanding of any man in Scotland or the rest of the world, for that matter.”

She spoke words that had no meaning to him as if they formed some sort of riddle he was to solve. “I am no ogre that ye must fear me. And ye willna leave here until ye tell me the way o' it, so why not tell me now?”

“It's a very long story.”

“I have time for a verra long story.”

She released a long sigh and gazed off. He could almost feel the sense of dread building up within her, and it puzzled him. He saw the way she clasped her hands in her lap, as if she truly feared what might happen to her if she was truthful and told him what he wanted to know. “Are ye a spy?”

He saw the instant look of surprise and shock upon her face… and it came too quickly to be anything other than an honest reaction, so he doubted her reason for withholding information was due to political artifice or evasion, but more to fear, which puzzled him. Had he been overly harsh with her? “Ye fear me, no?”

That only seemed to cause her more distress, for he did not miss the way she was wringing her hands. “I'm not afraid of you, per se, but of what you might do because I can promise you that you will not believe me. I am certain of it.”

He did not understand her reluctance. She seemed in such distress that he wanted to take her in his arms and tell her she had naught to fear from him, that he could and would protect her, but he did not. Rather, he said, “I will promise to do my best to believe ye, and if ye tell me that ye were spawned by the deil himsel', I will do ye no harm. Ye have my word.”

He saw the look of relief and resignation on her face, and he knew she was close to relenting, which meant she would give him the answer he sought. A sad longing embraced her and she turned her head to gaze toward the castle. “I am not from this world.”

She said the words so quickly that it gave him pause. Then the words penetrated his consciousness and he was puzzled by what she meant. “What mean ye, that ye are na from this world?”

“I come from another place in another time… a time in the future.”

His heart stilled. What she said was blasphemous and he told her so. “How managed ye to get by saying such at St. Leonard's?”

“I did not tell them because they never asked.”

“Tell me of this world where it is that ye live. Does it have a name?”

“America.”

That gave him a start, for he had knowledge of this America, but it had been discovered only twenty-three years or so ago. “I have heard of this place ye speak of, but ye canna be from there.”

“Yes, I can, and I am, but my time is in the future… a long way in the future.”

He did not know why he asked, “How far into the future?” He knew she was deceiving him with her lies, in spite of all her hand-wringing.

“Six hundred years.”

“Ye lie! 'Tis blasphemy! Do ye take me for a dunce, thinking I would believe such a foolish story?”

“No. I
knew
you wouldn't believe it and I wouldn't believe it either, if it had not happened to me. I understand your doubt, but what reason would I have to lie about this? How else can you explain my strange way of speaking English or the medical knowledge I have? You will have to go on what I have done at St. Leonard's, but it can be verified. And there is this,” she said, and pulled a ribbon that was tied around her neck, with a hole in a silver coin that dangled from it. She removed the ribbon and handed it to him.

“What is this coin ye give me?”

“It is an American silver dollar. On the front you can see the face of a woman with the word ‘Liberty' written above her head and by her neck the words ‘In God We Trust,' and below that is the date 1934. Now, if you turn it over…” and she did. “This is the American eagle, and here it says ‘One Dollar,' and above the eagle's head it says ‘United States of America' and below that, ‘E Pluribus Unum,' which means—”

“Oot of many, one.”

“Yes, ‘out of many, one' refers to the fact that out of many individual states, one country was formed.”

“Ye are from America in 1934.”

“No, not 1934. That is the date the coin was made.”

He handed the coin back to her, wanting to believe her, yet searching for another reason why she might have such a coin. “If ye came back in time, how did ye make it happen?”