My Laird's Castle (10 page)

“Ye’re teasing me, Mistress Pratt.”

“No, I’m not. You’re a very handsome man, Lord Anderson. Looks, brains, a title. What’s not to like?”

One would have thought I’d had a glass of wine—or three—at my boldness, but I was caught up in admiration of something truly gorgeous, and I couldn’t hold my tongue.

“Enough now, madam,” he said, running a hand across his chin and dropping his eyes to the floor for a moment. “I think ye must dress. It is almost time for supper.”

“I wondered about that. How do you all tell time around here?”

“By the position of the sun, the length of time to burn a candle, roosters that crow every day at six, and my pocket watch.” He pulled a watch out of a pocket in his waistcoat. I noticed for the first time that he had dressed in black silk trousers, a black velvet jacket and a pale-gray waistcoat. An intricately knotted cravat topped off his elegant look.

I laughed. “A watch! Of course!”

He looked around the room. “Ye dinna have a clock in this room, do ye? I shall have Mrs. Agnew bring one.”

“Thank you,” I said. “How much time do I have before supper?”

“Enough,” he said. “I see ye bathed. Yer curly hair is verra bonnie.”
 

I laughed again, thrilled at the compliment, though I knew he had to be wrong. I patted the springy mass.

“I forgot to comb it when I got out of the tub, so it’s about as wild as yours.”

“Aye!” Colin said with a wide grin. Oh, gosh! Were those dimples in his cheeks as well? “We make a fine pair of tousle heads.”

I tightened my clutch on the tartan, which threatened to slip.
 

Colin noticed and dropped his eyes.

“It isna proper for me to be in here. I will send Mrs. Agnew directly.”

“Thank you. I’ll dress quickly. How was the river?”

“Swollen,” replied Colin, pausing as he turned for the door. “Impassable. I will check again tomorrow. The captain and his men canna leave soon enough.”

He shut the door behind him, and no sooner had I headed for the dressing table and the comb, than another tap on the door signaled the arrival of Mrs. Agnew.

She bustled in, full of apologies for not coming sooner, mumbling under her breath about English soldiers.

“I’m so sorry to put you through this trouble, Mrs. Agnew. I know you have better things to do than help me dress.”

“Nay, mistress,” she said, helping me into the usual assortment of chemise, stays, petticoats and stockings. “His lairdship wants ye well cared for. I havena seen him so joyful for some time. Did ye see that he shaved off his beard? Unusual that for a Highland Scotsman. I never thought it suited him. He grew it when he returned from England. Was that yer influence?”

“Me?” I asked, feeling guilty. Did Highlanders grow beards as a sign of masculinity? “Oh, I don’t think so. I hope not.”

“Well, I had forgotten what a fair handsome man he was, so if it was yer idea, then I must thank ye. He looks years younger.”

“How old is he?” I asked.

“Och! Let me think. He were born in 1722, it was. I ken because I came as nanny to the young master and his sister. I didna become housekeeper until some years later when the auld laird brought in a tutor. The young mistress already had a governess by then.”

The whole thing sounded very gothic to me—tutors, governesses and nannies. It was clear that Colin’s father had seen his children well cared for.

I did my math. Colin was twenty-four, a year older than me. I wondered how old his wife had been when she died. I almost asked Mrs. Agnew about her, but hesitated. Every day when I dressed in Colin’s dead wife’s clothing, as I did now, I experienced a moment of discomfort, and I worried that I reminded him of her. Hadn’t Mrs. Agnew said I looked like her?

My heart dropped. While I’d been thinking that Colin had been falling a little bit in love with me—as I had him—I realized that it was likely he had probably only seen his wife in me, given the dresses and the possible resemblance.
 

Mrs. Agnew had me step into a lovely powder-blue silk skirt.
 

“It is from France,” she said as she smoothed the skirt, almost lovingly. “A beautiful light color like the sky.”

“It
is
beautiful,” I said, slightly depressed. She slipped the bodice over my arms and fastened it down the back. Delicate lace fell away from the three-quarter-length sleeves. The dress was a little more revealing than any Mrs. Agnew had offered before, and I swallowed hard as I looked down at my cleavage. Oh, no. I wasn’t going to be able to do this!

But before I could protest, the worthy housekeeper slipped a beautiful length of lace around my shoulders and tucked it inside the bodice. I pushed it down even further.

I slipped into my usual shoes, and Mrs. Agnew settled me in front of the dressing table to do my hair. She tsked and moaned as she dragged the comb through my hair, and I winced and did some moaning of my own.

“Ouch!” I cried out on more than one occasion.

“Whatever did ye do to yer hair, mistress?”

“I washed it with the bar soap, discovered there was no crème rinse and then fell asleep before I could comb it out.”

“Och! I have something put by to soften yer hair. I’ll bring it up the next time ye bathe.”

“Oh, thank you!” I said.
 

Meanwhile, she continued to pull the comb through the tangled mess before she mercifully bunched it up into a bun of some sort and stuck a few pins into it. The tears of pain dried, and I looked at the results in the mirror. Curls fell around my face and onto my shoulders, and I looked utterly feminine.
 

I smiled, probably more in gratitude that she was finally done torturing me than with the results, and I stood up, wondering if my scalp was permanently scarred.

“There ye be, mistress, as lovely as could be. I remember when the dress arrived. Her ladyship was tickled as could be. She had been sad for so long, it was wonderful to see her smile. His lairdship ordered several dresses for her as a surprise, ye ken.”

I did ken, and it didn’t make me feel any better. I had to speak.

“I really don’t think I should be wearing her clothing,” I said softly, smoothing the beautiful silk skirt. “Won’t it upset Lord Anderson?”

“Oh, noooo,” she said. “I dinna think so. It was he who told me to fetch her clothes for yer use during yer visit.”

I sighed heavily, wondering why Colin’s wife had “been sad for so long.” But I didn’t know how to ask, and the opportunity passed as Mrs. Agnew urged me toward the door.

“Mrs. Renwick will no thank me for bringing ye late to supper.”

I followed the housekeeper down the stairs, catching my breath as Colin waited for me in the foyer. He looked up at me, and I cringed, hoping his expression wouldn’t darken with sadness as he saw his wife’s dress.

But instead, his smile widened, and my heart almost leapt up through the fichu and out of my chest. That smile, now brilliant in the absence of the beard, mesmerized me, and I almost lost my footing.

He caught me just in time, and I smiled sheepishly.

“Darn skirts,” I mumbled.

“Aye!” he said softly. “But they are verra, verra bonnie on ye, Mistress Pratt.”
 

I grinned as he dropped into a thicker burr than usual.
 

“Thank ye verra much, my laird,” I said with shaking knees at my daring.

Colin laughed and led me into the great room. Empty save for George, I wondered if we were dining on our own tonight. Colin pulled out my chair, and I sat, thankful the fichu was covering whatever it needed to as he bent near.

Captain Jones arrived as soon as Colin seated himself, looking quite stunning in his red uniform. I had no idea how he managed to keep it clean, but it was immaculate.

“Good evening, Mistress Pratt,” he said as he bowed to me. “Lord Anderson.”

“Good evening, Captain Jones,” I said. Colin merely nodded. I didn’t blame him. The captain seemed to be a very affable man, but he was an uninvited guest, and Colin clearly resented having to afford him hospitality.

“How was your day?” I asked.
 

“Very well, thank you, madam, albeit somewhat long. There is little to do while we await the cessation of this foul weather. I have interrupted several squabbles amongst my men, written several dispatches, which I cannot yet send, and walked down to the river to see that it is indeed still impassable. Perhaps the rain will cease tomorrow, and we can be on our way.”

“Aye,” Colin murmured. I put a hand over my mouth to stifle a grin. Captain Jones smiled but did not take offense.

George and Sarah brought food in, and Colin poured wine.

“Have you visited London yet, Mistress Pratt?”

“Yes, I’ve been to London,” I replied before I realized what I’d said. Colin’s startled look reminded me that I was talking to a stranger. I didn’t know what would happen if I just jumped up and announced I had traveled in time, but I suspected it would be a problem. If not for me, then for Colin.
 

“That is, yes, my ship docked in England, and I visited London before I came over here.” I hoped he wouldn’t ask me how I “came over here.”

“Ah!” Captain Jones nodded. “Did you dock in Liverpool then?”

I nodded. “Yes, Liverpool.”

“And how did you find London? My home is in London,” he said.

“Oh, beautiful,” I said. “Just beautiful.” Hardly articulate, but an adequate response, I thought.

Captain Jones smiled.
 

“Yes, I think so as well, though the air is thick with smoke from coal fires. I prefer the country myself. Did you have occasion to travel outside London to the countryside?”

I was ready.

“Oh, no, I just stayed in London.”

“But you traveled from Liverpool to London, did you not? You saw some of the country then?”

I nodded. “Yes, very lovely.”

“Lord Anderson, I believe, is familiar with London, are you not?”

Colin nodded.

“Aye,” he said, offering nothing more.

“You went to school in London?”

“Aye,” he said, again monosyllabic.
 

The captain turned to me with a rueful smile.
 

“It seems as if Lord Anderson is not disposed to converse tonight, Mistress Pratt, so it must fall upon you and me to entertain ourselves.”

“Ye could eat,” Colin said, one dark eyebrow lifted in a sardonic expression.

Captain Jones laughed. “Yes, I could, and am happy to enjoy Mrs. Renwick’s fine repast.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle. I reminded myself again that while Colin had reason to despise the presence of the English soldiers, Captain Jones was a very charming man.
 

After that though, Colin managed to offer a few desultory comments on the weather, and Captain Jones seemed satisfied with that. I nodded and smiled but offered nothing in case I said something wrong and revealed myself to be a time traveler. I couldn’t quite remember whether the Scots or English burned witches at this time, but I was pretty sure something bad would happen if I was discovered as something other than Colin’s American cousin.

Given that I had spent the majority of my time since arriving in Scotland—in 1746—disputing any notion of time travel, and then upon a hard-fought acceptance of such, worrying about my future—or at least about finding my way back to the twenty-first century—I’d given almost no thought to discovery. I couldn’t even remember when the Salem witch trials had occurred.
 

What would happen if I were found out? What if Captain Jones demanded to see my “papers?” Did people have papers in eighteenth-century Scotland?
 

Nope! If anyone should have traveled back in time to Scotland in 1746, it should have been an expert on Scotland’s history—someone who would know when things happened, what to do, and how to behave. Certainly not a tourist who knew almost nothing about Scotland, other than what she had seen in movies. In other words, me!

Chapter Seven

The following morning, sunshine peeked through the clouds. It looked as if the rain had dissipated. When I came down for breakfast, Mrs. Agnew told me that Colin had gone down to the river to check on the flooding.

No sooner did I sit down than he burst into the dining room.

“The bridge is free from water, and the river is now passable. We shall say good-bye to Captain Jones this day,” he said with a self-satisfied smirk. He seated himself and dug in with a hearty appetite.
 

“I’m sure Mrs. Renwick and Mrs. Agnew will be thankful to see them gone.”

He nodded. “Aye! And what of ye? Shall ye miss the good captain? It seemed to me that the pair of you got on verra well last night.”

I smiled and shook my head.

“Oh, please! He was teaching me to play cards, nothing more. He
is
a nice man, Colin. At least I think so. I certainly don’t know much about him.”

“He’s an English officer. That is all ye need to ken. They own us, heart and soul, at least for the moment.” He lowered his voice and leaned forward. “Remind me again that we shall indeed vote to take our freedom from England.” He shook his head. “I canna believe that we shall struggle against their oppression for two and a half more centuries.”