Love Across Time (19 page)

The body lying at his side curled itself around him like a kitten. One delicate hand raised to cover a wide yawn.

“Was that Morag and Margaret’s father?” mumbled his wife as she rubbed her eyes with her fists like a wee barin.

She sat up and tossed her mane of golden curls over her shoulder. Her long tousled hair looked a mess, but adorable. A slight redness marred the side of her neck
he would have to remember to shave the next time he came to her bed. Her disheveled appearance made her look well and thoroughly loved.

“Aye,
gaol
.” Puzzled at the way she phrased her question, he stared at her. She talked as if she still believed she wasn’t Margaret, even after her nightmare, “Do ye nae remember last night?”

A smile lifted the corners of her kiss-swollen mouth. “Aye, I remember.”

“Do ye remember yer dream?”

Her sweetly arched brows lowered. “I remember I woke up frightened, but not why. You were there and held me and we... ah.” Her hand made a sweep of the bed as if the tangled sheets told their own tale.

“Aye, that we did. More than once.” Although disappointed she hadn’t remembered her life as Margaret, he couldn’t wipe the grin of pure male satisfaction from his face. “Come, lass, we best get dressed and go downstairs ’ere yer family leaves afore ye have a chance to say goodbye.” He flipped back the covers, stood, and pulled on his trews.

She didn’t attempt to rise, but sat there with the covers pulled up to her neck. He glanced at her over his shoulder. A delicate pink tinted her cheeks. He realized she felt too shy to bounce out of bed naked and dress while he still occupied the room.

“I’ll get dressed in me room.” He headed for the connecting doors. “Meet me in the hall when ye ’ere ready.”

The door hadn’t closed before he heard the swoosh of blankets.

Maggie doubted she’d ever experienced such a tumultuous morning. Awakening to find herself snuggled against Liam’s warm body, after a night of lovemaking, then to have Morag and her father burst into the room was more embarrassment than she could withstand in one day.

Then she’d had to endure the heart-wrenching goodbyes from Morag, Ian and their parents. In less than one day, they had become the loving, caring family she longed to have. Even now, she had to gulp hard to hold back the tears that threatened to spill onto her cheeks.

Sitting at the table, she pushed her morning meal around on the plate and cast wary glances at Liam. Thoughts of why she’d dreamed about Margaret’s accident
and not her own
troubled her. When Liam asked if she recalled her nightmare, she’d lied. She remembered everything, but had needed time to absorb and evaluate the events in her dream. And what happened afterwards. Had her subconscious goaded her into making love with Margaret’s husband? Her face flushed when she remembered the things she’d whispered in his ear as he brought her untutored passion to life.

She spoke in a lilting brogue that had felt natural. It was when she spoke the way the speech therapist had taught her that her words felt awkward, stiff. She wasn’t sure if Liam had noticed, but sometimes when she forgot to speak in precise English, his lips would quirk into the half-grin that sent her senses reeling.

Could she truly belong in this century, with Liam, and not come from the future? If so, why could she recall Mrs. Bixby so clearly, including the marvelous inventions of the twenty-first century? Were they just figments of an overactive imagination caused by her head injury? No! Her memories were too vivid, too defined to be false. How could she have known about the Scottish defeat at Culloden if not for Mrs. Bixby?

Her chest constricted as she felt her composure slip. Hands, hidden under the table, twisted in her skirt. They’d had no news of the battles outcome. Perhaps she’d been wrong and Prince Charles had triumphed.

Through her lashes, she peeked at Liam in deep conversation with Conner who had stopped to whisper something in his ear. Liam grinned then waved him on his way and continued his meal.

The hall seemed quite, empty without Ian teasing Morag, and her chasing him about to make him stop. The dog, Mongrel, who usually entered the game, lay under the table, his large head propped on top of her feet. His sad, brown eyes gazed up at her as if he felt abandoned by his playmates. As a consolation, she slid morsels of her breakfast of haggis and boiled eggs to him when Liam wouldn’t notice. They said the dog belonged to her, but his presence made Ian and Morag’s absence more pronounced.

Liam stuffed a boiled egg into his mouth, stared at her, then scooped the last of his food into his mouth chewed and swallowed. He laid his utensils down and pushed his plate aside.

“Connor said Weem be holding a fair today.” She saw he tried, but failed to keep the sparkle of excitement from his eyes. “Would ye like to go?”

“A fair?” The smile plastered on her face must have convinced him she shared his anticipation for an event that obviously didn’t occur often.

“Aye. Merchants sell their wares and gypsies come from all across Scotland to perform.” His large hand reached across the table and covered hers. “It may well take that woeful expression from yer bonny face, and ye’ll nae have time to miss yer family.”

His concern melted her heart. His loss when she left
not that of Margaret’s family
was what
caused her pensive mood.

“A fair sounds entertaining. Much like a circus or a carniv....” At his deep scowl, she looked around to see if someone overheard her slip of the tongue. “Yes. Let us go.”

When Mongrel rose to sit on his hindquarters ready to follow her, Liam ordered him to stay. The dog lowered his head and whined. She ruffled the fur on his neck, and he lay back down, his big eyes sad.

Liam touched her elbow to help her rise and guided her toward the door. Hand on his arm she stepped outdoors. Sunshine warmed her face, and a soft breeze blew wisps of hair around her face. A hint of heather wafted in the morning air.

A groom led a beautiful dappled-grey palfrey from the stable. The horse nudged her hand with its soft muzzle and lowered its head. She rubbed it between the ears, and the animal emitted a soft whinny of pleasure.

Her gaze scanned the courtyard. What was she to ride in? The horrible realization that there would be no motorized vehicles here like the ambulance that had rescued her from the side of the freeway sent her heart beating against her ribs with the force of a battering ram.

“Liam, I dinnae think....”

“Nae worry, ye be an excellent rider. This be yer mare that ye rode from Campbell Castle.”

She leaned closer and whispered, “But I nae remember.”

That irritating, irresistible grin lifted the corner of his mouth. “’Twill come back to ye.”

Before she had time to object, his strong hands spanned her waist and lifted her into the saddle. Knees found the proper position naturally. The groom handed her the reins as Liam arranged her skirts. A faint tickle of alarm seized her as Liam moved away.

Merriment glittered in his dark eyes. “See, ye be fine.”

With one booted foot in the stirrup, he mounted a powerful ebony warhorse in one lithe movement, gathered the reins, and nudged the horse forward.

One flick of the reins and a tongue click set her mare in motion. She relaxed as her body swayed with the horse’s rhythmic trot. As they rode, she found freedom in the powerful strength beneath her and marveled at the flex of muscle under the shiny gray coat. It unleashed an urge to gallop across the countryside at full speed, to abandon her sense of displacement, to forget where she was and that she may never go home.

Some movement on her part must have alerted Liam or he sensed her reckless wish. He reached over, covered her fingers holding the reins, and gently squeezed.

“Nae, lass, ye havenae recovered enough to go galloping off across the moors as ye are accustom to doing. We be nearly there.”

The rooftops of the small village came into view. Over her shoulder, she could still see the dark-stone walls of Menzie Castle in the distance. Her aching thigh muscles felt like she’d ridden much further. A smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she glanced at the man at her side: strong, pleasing to the eye, and insatiable. Perhaps last night’s activities were the source of her tender muscles.

Liam’s thumb caressed the back of her hand. His crooked smile and the unmistakable twinkle in his eyes told her his thoughts lingered on last night’s pleasures, also. Memories of how he’d stroked her breasts, her stomach, sent renewed desire coursing through her.

Their entrance into the small village distracted her from the heat of his caress. The small group halted in front of the towns stable and dismounted. A groom rushed forward to control her mount. Liam reached up, lifted her off the horse, and skimmed her down the length of his body before her feet touched the ground. Every inch of her tingled from the contact, her breast grew taut, and the nipples puckered against the bodice of her dress. His mouth was so close to hers she felt tiny wisps of his breathe softly caress her cheek. At her indrawn breath, a sensuous grin tilted his lip upward before he turned to issue orders to his men.

The rat, after last night, he knew exactly how he affected her. How she responded to his touch. She eyed him suspiciously. Did he count on her attraction to him to influence her decision about going home? Pain gripped her heart. Didn’t he realize that no matter how attracted she found him, her life waited in the twenty-first century?

Since the Campbell’s had left without her, she was free to search for the brooch, and when she found it, she’d leave. Memories of last night’s passion washed over her. Until then, there was no reason why she couldn’t enjoy her time with Liam.

Was it possible that Margaret would return after Maggie left, or was she gone forever? Thoughts of him with another woman tore at her heart but the image of him living a solitary life wounded her soul. Liam needed someone to love him, to share his responsibilities, to support him through the difficult decisions he must make as chieftain. To prove to him he was lovable despite his scarred face.

Liam interrupted her thoughts when he folded her arm around his and started toward the center of town. Four men-at-arms who had accompanied them dispersed while Rory and Conner remained by their side.

Booths and carts filled with rugs, pottery, and jewelry lined both sides of the cobblestone street. Merchants hawked their wares as passersby meandered from vendor to vendor appraising the wares offered for sale or barter. Colorful bolts of cloth, from the finest silks to homespun linens, were displayed openly for women to inspect.

The scent of a variety of foods wafted together to create an appetizing aroma. It had been several hours since breakfast. Her stomach kicked up a fuss, and her mouth salivated.

“Sweets for my lady?” cried a short, stout man. Wrinkled, leathery skin belied the lack of gray in his coal-black hair and mustache.

Curious, she strolled up to inspect the cart’s tempting sugary confections. Liam stood behind her, and his heat enveloped her.

“If you’re hungry, you may want to try a Scotch Pie.” The chandler pointed to a four-inch pastry pie. “It’s filled with minced meat and will satisfy your hunger. Or, if your sweet tooth needs appeasing, a Black Bun is very tasty.”

She missed the apple raisin cake served at the rehab center. Would the Black Bun taste similar? Bent over the table, she examined her choices. “What is in the Black Bun?”

When he didn’t answer, she glanced up. The merchant eyed her curiously. Eyes narrowed, his stare grew harder, more intense as moments passed.

Liam thumped the edge of the cart with his fist. “Well, merchant?”

The man’s gaze arched back and forth from an impatient Liam to her. “Much like a fruit cake, my lady. Raisins, currants, chopped almonds, sugar, and these have a touch of rare spices: cinnamon, and ginger.”

“They sound delicious.” She glanced over her shoulder and pleaded, “Could we Liam?” As an incentive, she gave him a small smile.

His grip on her waist tightened for a fraction of a second. Desire darkened his eyes. He grinned back with no trace of his previous rancor.

“Aye,
gaol
. We’ll take two.”

She looked to the right at Rory and then to the left at Connor. She felt Liam’s chest expand against her back. He glanced to each side and exchanged a subtle look of amusement with the men.

“Make that four.” His sigh of resignation caused Rory and Conner to chuckle aloud.

“Thank ye, lass,” both men said in unison.

The clink of coins sounded as Liam reached inside the sporran at his waist. He dropped two halfpennies in the man’s palm, and the wrinkled hand curled around the coins.

The merchant’s hawk-like gaze held her frozen in place. “My lady. You must speak with my wife at the end of the street. She’ll give you the answers you search for.”

Liam fingers dug into her side. He whirled them so swiftly, he nearly knocked Connor’s bun from his hand.

Conner cast a puzzled glance from the merchant to Liam. “What be wrong with ye, cousin?” he asked juggling his sweet cake to keep from dropping it.

It amazed her Connor didn’t cringe from the dark scowl on Liam’s face. “The old man talks foolishness ’tis all. Come let’s see what this fair has to offer.”