Читать книгу Highland Fling - Jennifer Labrecque - Страница 8

DARACH MACTAVISH was confounded. Ever since he was a wee lad, the lasses had taken a ken to him. So, finding a lass in his bed hadn’t been that surprising. Finding her as bare as a bairn had been something of a boon. But she didn’t seem wont to stay there and that was confounding, as was her strange speech.

He tested the last knot. Katie wouldn’t be going anywhere until he decided she should. He looked down at her stony face. “If you’re uncomfortable, you have no one but yourself to blame.”

She turned her face to the wall, away from him without answering.

“Ye left me no choice. At least I didna bind your legs.” She seemed in no mood for a tumble and to have her on his bed with her legs spread, her ankles bound to the corner posts…well, he didn’t need the temptation.

“Thank you.” She looked at him, anger simmering beneath her stony facade. “You’re wasting both of our time. Obviously you’ve confused me with someone else. People will miss me and the authorities will look for me, but no one will pay you a penny for me.”

“You think I want to ransom you?”

“Why else are you tying me up? Why won’t you let me leave?”

“I’ve told you why, you daft lass.”

“I’m not daft, you jackass…at least I don’t think I am. I just want to go home.” The last word ended on an abrupt note. Was it because she was about to start caterwauling or because she’d said too much?

“Were you perhaps meeting someone to take you home?” He should’ve thought of that before. Of course she wasn’t here alone. Finally, the situation made sense. “Were you sent here to distract me? Who were you on your way to meet? Where were you meeting them?”

A hint of bewilderment lurked behind the frustration in her green eyes. “I don’t know why I’m here. I wish I did. No, that’s not true. I don’t care why I’m here. I just want to wake up and have this dream over.”

Her nonsense held a note of truth. But it was, in fact nonsense, and he pressed her. “Tell me where you’re to meet your people and I’ll take you there. As long as no harm comes to a MacTavish on this night, I’ll set you and your people free. It’s a generous offer and one I won’t grant again, so make your decision wisely, Katie Wexford.”

“I wish I could tell you what you want to know. I would if I could. I’m not stoic or heroic or any of those things. I want a hot shower, a glass of red wine, my silk pajamas and my bed. This—” she glanced around the room and then pointedly at him, “—is not my idea of a good evening.”

Darach crossed to the door. He’d rouse the whole castle. Better to surprise the enemy than be caught unaware. And he’d spent entirely too much of his time talking with this woman. He turned to face her. “I am going to rouse the castle. If your people are here, we’ll find them and you can trust they’ll be shown no mercy. Know that you brought this upon them. Know that you could have saved them and chose to do nothing. Know their blood to be on your hands.”

She nodded. “I’ll be here when you get back.”

By all that was holy, she either spoke the truth or was as touched as they came.

“GATHER THE MEN and ready them to search the castle,” Darach said.

Hamish stood before his laird for the second time that evening and sighed to himself. Darach had been in a state earlier and in no mood for the only explanation he, Hamish could offer. Hamish had held out a slight hope that Darach and the lass might figure it out on their own, but he’d feared it might come to this. His laird and friend, Darach was a strong decisive personality. And even though Hamish had only a faint, general impression of the woman he’d shoved through the portrait, she was undoubtedly made of equally stern stuff. Hamish wished this next part was over with. It promised to be difficult.

“Is this about the strange lass in your bed? I take it she wasn’t up for a tumble?”

“I caught her coming down the stairs after I had told her to stay in my room. I think she was on her way to meet someone. That or she’s been sent as a distraction. Now, gather the men.”

Hamish stood before him without doing his bidding, searching for a way to break his news to Darach. God’s tooth this was going to be awkward. Hamish should’ve already prepared for this. Darach glanced sharply at him. “Time is wasting man.”

“I would like to meet the woman. I think I can explain.”

“I thought you had seen no one enter the castle.”

Hamish was almost positive it was the same woman, but she’d shown up without her clothes? “Let me meet her.”

“And what if we’re bluidy well overrun while you’re up visiting with her?”

“Trust me. Have I ever offered you unwise counsel? Take me to her.”

Hamish regarded the man he’d known and loved like a brother his entire life. More than once he’d entrusted Darach with his life. Hamish hoped he’d do the same now.

Darach turned abruptly and made his way toward the keep. Hamish followed, leaving behind his customary banter, scrambling to decide how best to present the situation to Darach and the lass. It was so much easier when those involved figured it out on their own.

They entered the room, Darach first. The woman spoke. “That was quick. I told you I wasn’t meeting anyone.” Hamish stepped around Darach and smiled a greeting.

Recognition widened her eyes. “You—you…you’re the one who shoved me into the painting. I know it. You’re younger, but I recognize you. I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing but I want out.”

“You brought her here?” Darach reared back, betrayal echoing in his stance. “I asked and—”

“I told you none of the men saw her enter and they didn’t. Hear me out and know it is a strange enough tale I have to tell.”

Kate spoke up from the bed. “Okay. We’re finally getting somewhere and while you’re telling it, how about you untie me.”

Darach looked from Hamish to Kate and shook his head in distrust. “Not until I have heard the tale.”

“The first manner of business would be that this is indeed Glenagan, Scotland and it is November of 1744,” Hamish said with an apologetic smile at Kate.

The woman’s skin grew paler still at his words, all the blood seeming to drain from her body. She should thank Darach that she was flat on her back, else she might have fallen.

“No.” She breathed the single word through clenched lips.

“Who is she?” Darach asked.

Where was a good place to start? Experience had taught him there were no good places to start with this. “She’s a woman from two hundred and sixty years, well two hundred sixty two years to be precise, in the future.”

Darach eyed him as if madness had overcome him.

“Ah. I see you think I’ve gone a might daft and for sure it is a bit hard to believe.” He looked at Darach to show him neither madness nor deception shadowed his eyes. “She is from Georgia, a place that today is a colony of the crown and the city she comes from does not yet exist. She is not British. She and her people are known as Americans.”

“She said you brought her here. So, I’m supposed to believe you are still alive two hundred sixty two years in the future?”

Hamish shrugged. “I told you it’s a strange tale.”

“But you haven’t been gone from the castle.”

“I don’t know how to explain it, but I exist on several different planes, at different points in time, in different places.”

“Are you some kind of dark magic?”

“I don’t know what I am.” He’d ceased long ago to feel sorrow over his unusual state. “I’ve just learned to accept it. I can’t make anything happen. But things happen through me.” He gestured to the painting on the wall. “That painting spoke to you, drew you, did it not, lass?”

“Yes.” Her skin flushed to a rosy glow.

“You’ve seen that painting before?” Darach asked her.

“Yes. It was in a traveling exhibit, Sex Through the Ages, in the Atlanta museum.”

“Sex Through the Ages?” Darach frowned at her.

“I didn’t name the thing,” Kate snapped back at him. “I just showed up for the viewing.”

Hamish jumped in to get the conversation back on track. “And the draw was so strong you couldn’t stay away?”

“Yes. Did you do that to me? Did you cast some kind of spell?”

“No. What you felt was between the two of you. That’s the way it works. I don’t pick anyone. If you weren’t supposed to be here, if on some level you didn’t want to be here, you wouldn’t.”

“Wait a second. Something’s obviously gotten screwed up somewhere along the line. I definitely don’t want to be here. I want to be home. You’ve got the wrong gal. I think you meant to snag my friend Jordan. She’s a history major. Trust me. She’d much rather be here, well, maybe not tied to the bed,” she glared in Darach’s direction, “but she’s into history and this would be right up her alley. Trust me on this. I’m not the person for this. I don’t do history. I’ve never even been to the Renaissance festival ’cause I don’t like that stuff. I’m a techno freak. I love the conveniences of modern life. Electricity. Running water. Flush toilets. CAT scans. Penicillin. Starbucks.”

“Aye. A mocha latte grande is a thing of beauty.”

“See. You understand. You have to send me back.”

He upended his palms in a gesture of helplessness. “I can not. Only you can send yourself back.”

“No. That’s not true. ’Cause I’d be home right now if I could. And I tried to go through the picture earlier.”

“No, lass, ’tis yourself that has brought you here. You wanted to be here so much you were willing to come as bare as a bairn. And once you have taken care of what you came here for, you’ll return.”

Darach stood, arrogant, commanding, smug. “So the lass wanted a tumble with me that bad, did she?”

“Actually, your need for her was so strong that she felt it coming through.”

“Now I know you are daft, man. I don’t need her.” He eyed her stretched out on his bed, clad in his plaid. “Now, there is no denying I want her. I’m willing to tumble a comely lass, but I don’t need her. There is any number of lasses willing to warm my bed.”

“You are the most arrogant, pig-headed, macho, blustering bag of hot air. Whatever faint glimmer of attraction I felt at one point for a man in a picture has totally dissipated having experienced your lack of charm first-hand.”

Darach’s mouth tightened. “Aye. And I can do without a viper-tongued wench.”

“Wench? Wench? Lass is one thing, but did you just call me a wench? I’ll have you know I’m a doctor. No one calls me a wench. I passed my boards with flying colors. I could take you apart and put you back together with my eyes closed.”

“That may all be well and true, Katie-love, but while you are here, I’m the laird.”

Hamish let himself out of the room. For the time being, his work was done.