Highlander's Touch (22 page)

Heart lurching, he had to put some distance between them before he took it upon himself to deliver her to his chamber forgetting his duties. He’d been allowed to bring her here on the condition that Logan could count on him, and he wasn’t going to let him down.

Ewan strode swiftly toward the keep, taking the stairs to the main doors two at a time. He found Logan in the great hall pacing, several of his men surrounding him and his wife Emma curled up in high-back chair by the hearth.

When he strode through, all talking ceased and Logan barreled toward him. Emma slipped from the great hall, head bowed. He hoped she would seek out Shona and make her feel welcome.

“What happened? Ye were gone overlong,” Logan said.

Ewan held up the bag. “A gift for ye, my laird.”

“Ye found him?” Logan stared hard at the bag. “Is your lass all right?”

Ewan blew out a deep breath. “Aye, she will be all right. He burned her house to the ground, brutally butchered her animals. She was a little roughed up, but other than that, he was not able to…” Ewan gritted his teeth unable to even voice the words. Bile rose in his throat at the thought of that bastard putting his grimy hands on Shona, violating her body.

Logan drew in a deep breath, his observant regard sweeping over Ewan. “I understand. I’m glad ye made it back in one piece.”

Ewan nodded, relief once more flooding through him that Shona had not been harmed. That they were back at Gealach and she was safe.

“He and the men he came with are dead. Shall I have the head delivered to his master?” Ewan asked.

Logan nodded. “We need not bother with formalities. Have it put in a chest with straw and delivered posthaste.”

“He may take vengeance on our messenger.”

Logan grinned unpleasantly. “Nay, we have two of his men within our dungeon. They’ll deliver the head and any news the MacDonald will need.”

“War will be unavoidable.” Ewan’s blood chilled.

Logan’s face turned grim. “Aye.”

A soft knock on the door startled Shona away from the slitted window she’d been staring out—mesmerized by the star filled sky. And probably in a bit of shock from her ordeal, and new situation.

Had Ewan returned so soon? She’d not expected to see him for a long time. Baodan had said he would send up a maid to see what she needed. Perhaps that was she.

She went to the door but stopped short of taking down the bar. “Aye?” she said loud enough that whoever was on the other side would hear her.

“’Tis Lady Emma, Mistress of Gealach.”

The chief’s wife?

Shona swallowed hard. What warranted a visit from the mistress? Was she going to tell Shona there had been a mistake and she needed to leave? A shiver rolled over her skin and dread twisted her heart. She supposed she should have known that would happen. She’d been warned before not to come here. Better that the mistress tell her now and see her escorted out before Ewan returned. She would be completely mortified if he were to see her so undignified.

Taking a deep breath, Shona opened the door for the clan’s mistress. The woman on the other side of the door had hair just as fiery-red as Shona’s, pulled into a soft bun at the nape of her neck, lochs curling in disarray around her temple. She wore a simple green gown with the Grant sash over one shoulder. She was beautiful, enchanting, even, and her warm blue eyes didn’t show the animosity Shona had expected. In fact, the woman smiled warmly.

“Welcome. My name is Lady Emma.” She held out her hand not in a way that Shona had seen before, but that she instinctively knew to grip. How she’d come by that information she had no clue.

She slipped her hand into the warm softness that was Emma’s and gently shook it. A handshake. That was what it was called, and how did she know that information?

“I’m Shona,” she said.

“May I come in?” Emma asked.

Shona nodded and stepped back to allow the woman room to pass. She shut the door behind her, but didn’t bother to bar it. With the way the woman had welcomed her, she was suddenly wondering if there would be no need to fear the people of Gealach after all.

“I have a bath coming for you, and a hot meal.” Emma’s gaze roved over her.

Shona still clutched the plaid around herself. Emma’s accent was different than the rest.
Sassenach
, she’d heard some describe her as, but oddly enough, Emma’s tongue was more familiar than her own. That was extremely strange. A fresh chill snaked over her as she recalled every strange vision she’d had since arriving here years before. The woman in her peculiar dreams, that she knew to be
herself
, had the same sounding speech as Emma.

“Are you hurt?” Emma asked.

She shook her head, cleared her throat. “Nay, my lady.”

“I’m so sorry for what happened to you. I… have been there before.”

“With the Butcher?”

Emma shook her head with a pained expression. “Someone else.”

“I’m sorry.” Shona’s heart went out to the woman she’d just met. If anyone had to go through what she’d gone through with the Butcher, they deserved all the sympathy she could muster.

Emma waved her hand. “Oh, there is no need for you to apologize.” Emma smiled. “It’s all in the past now.”

Shona smiled, watching Emma glide silkily toward a chair and sit in it as though she’d stay for tea.

“Where are you from, Shona? I know you’ve lived in the woods these past few years helping our own healers. But before then, where did you come from? Are you a MacLeod like your companion Rory?”

Emma knew of Rory? Did all of Gealach? Shona gave an uneasy nod then shook her head, confused herself about her origins and too exhausted to think more clearly.

“If you are, I promise I won’t bite.”

A knock cut off Shona’s reply and she watched Emma leap to her feet and rush to the door. Several servants carried in a bath, linens, soaps and a change of clothes, followed by buckets of steaming water and platters of succulent scented food and wine.

Her stomach growled. She was definitely hungry, but she yearned more for a bath than food at the moment. The need to scrub away the Butcher’s filthy touch was intense. Though he’d not been able to rape her, he’d still touched her with his rotten prick and hands.

After the servants left, Emma poured her a glass of ruby-colored wine and handed it to her.

“Take a sip and then get in the tub. I’ll wash your hair.”

Shona felt odd about letting Emma bathe her, but was suddenly too exhausted to argue. She took a deep sip of the wine, letting the liquid slide down her throat and settle warmly in her belly.

Emma turned her back. “Go ahead and undress. Let me know when you’re in the water.”

“Thank you,” Shona said, noticing the change in her voice, her pronunciation of
ye/you
. She flinched, unsure of what was happening.

Her entire world felt like it was spinning faster and faster out of control. Like a whirlwind that scooped up everything in its path, and left destruction in its wake. She hoped she was sturdy enough to withstand it.

Strength. Be strong.

She shucked her clothing and then stepped into the warm water, unable to stop herself from letting out a little moan of pleasure. It had been so long since she’d taken a real bath—over five years, at least. More than a thousand days since she’d been able to submerge into a warm tub.

“I’m in,” she said after settling down and leaning her head back on the rim. “This is heavenly. Thank you so much for your hospitality.”

Emma cleared her throat and stepped closer to the tub. “Shona… Your accent, it has changed.”

Shona bit down hard on the inside of her cheek. Emma had noticed? The Mistress of Gealach would certainly thrust her out into the night now.

Shona shook her head in answer, unwilling to say another word. Emma crooked her head to the side, studying her with squinted eyes.

“There is something different about you, Shona, then the rest of the Highlanders I’ve met. I can’t seem to put my finger on it.”

“’Haps ’tis only that I’m not from here.” She worked to keep her Scottish accent in place.

“Yes, I think that is so, indeed.” Emma turned around and handed her back her glass of wine. “Take another sip, because I need to ask you a very serious question.”

Shona’s eyes widened as she stared at Emma. The Mistress of Gealach stood tall, her face void of emotion, but there was knowledge in her eyes that Shona found intimidating.

Drawing in a deep gulp, Shona attempted to push aside her anxieties. But they persisted. Had Emma had only bribed her with sweet warm water and wine in order to inform her of the bad news that she’d have to leave.

“Wh… What is it?” Shona asked.

Emma tilted her head, observing her with a steady stare. “Where are you
really
from?”

Shona shook her head, her lower lip trembling. “I don’t know. You’ve asked me that already.”

Emma ignored her. “Your accent—it has changed since you started talking to me. You know how to shake hands. You’re different than everyone else. Much different. Tell me, do you have dreams of… anything odd?”

Shona swallowed around the lump that had formed in her throat. How did Emma know of her visions? She chose to deny it. “Yes, I… We
all
have dreams.”

Emma came forward with the jug of wine and refilled it, a knowing smile on her lips. She set the jug down and knelt beside the tub. All the determination still squared her shoulders, but there was a softness about her now. And it was
that
gentleness which seemed to put Shona at ease. Could she trust Emma?

“There are dreams and then there are
dreams
,” Emma said. “Do you know what year it is?”

“Aye, I’ve been keeping track. ’Tis 1543.”

“How long have you been here?”

“I’ve been at the castle only an hour, at most.” Shona crinkled her brow, uncertain of where this was going, and not necessarily liking it.
Those
dreams that Emma was speaking of were creeping into the forefront of Shona’s mind, threatening to take over.

“Shona, I may know where you are from.”

Was it possible that this woman had an inkling? Could lead her to the truth of her past? The idea that Emma could help her touched the deep part of Shona that yearned to comprehend. “Where?” she asked, breathless with anticipation.

“Same place as me.” Emma’s lips flattened and she narrowed her brow, staring deep into Shona’s eyes as she said with all seriousness, “This is going to sound mad, but I am from the future— almost five-hundred-years from now. And I think you are, too.”

Shona almost laughed. Could have tossed her wine aside and run from the room screaming about the insanity of Emma’s words, but she didn’t. Instead, Shona grew very still as memory after memory came tunneling back of the strange woman in her visions—
herself
—reading a book and drinking a glass of wine; standing on a boat with thick sails and breathing in the salted air; riding on a large, fast-moving, overlong, iron wagon full of people; frantically scribbling in a journal; and one thing she was familiar with—picking herbs. Except
she
picked herbs in an unnaturally lit domed building, with strange whirring noises, and odd boxy objects. The alternate world. Differences that were both terrifying, and unbelievable. If what Emma said was true…

She stared up at Emma whose gaze had turned unwavering.

“Am I right?” Emma said.

Before she could stop, Shona found herself nodding. “I think that might be what happened to me. But when I got here… I didn’t remember anything. Nothing but my name. And now, only bits and pieces that come in flashes I don’t understand. Nothing makes sense.”

“I’m going to help you. You’ve adjusted a lot better to time travel than I have, but maybe that’s because you didn’t know. Well, now that you do”—Emma’s smile brightened her features—“I will definitely need to help you. And you’ll get through this just fine.”

“But… I don’t remember.” She bit down on the tip of her tongue, staving off tears.