A Slip In Time (23 page)

But if not now, then when? Doubtlessly, that
moment would come, even as the dawn.

Dispirited, Julia turned back and stared out
the window. She stood a long while sifting her feelings, composing
her thoughts, her emotions.

Sensibly, as a young woman without
family, she must look with care to her future. She did not know if
ever she would find true love for a man in this lifetime, or even
if she would choose to marry. But of one thing she felt certain. In
years to come, she would look back wistfully on her days at
Dunraven Castle, when once she’d stepped through the mists of time,
into the arms of her Highland lord, and gave herself to his kisses.
And she would know, somewhere in time, he remained there still,
bearing her affections.

Julia crushed the blossom in her hand, a
hidden thorn tearing her flesh. The prick was as nothing compared
to the sudden pain piercing her heart.

»«

Julia paced the floorboards before the
chamber’s great fireplace, the long time of waiting having
dwindled to less than five minutes.

Lord Muir and his colleagues prepared for
the coming event, monitoring the barometric and magnetic readings
of their instruments and marking the advancing minutes on their
large, reliable chronometer.

Julia paused at the octagonal mirror,
checking her unswept hair, a more elaborate style than she usually
wore but particularly pretty, thanks to Betty’s skill. Julia then
fussed for an untold time with her altered morning dress,
adjusting her shawl to cover the bodice of her gown.

She knew Rae had not overlooked her
corset when last they met. She suspected, with there being so many
men about in both times, and then with her and Rae leaving the keep
for the chilly outdoors, he simply hadn’t pressed the matter. Nor
would she.

Julia doubted he’d changed his mind on
the subject, and she’d not risk the last of her corsets. Instead,
she’d forsworn the garment altogether and had removed the stays
from one of her roomier morning gowns, lest he find objection with
those. The woolen shawl that she had borrowed from Betty concealed
the impropriety of her dress.

In truth, she rather liked the
soft-shell feeling, that of being unconstricted, uncompressed. Of
course, without her corset, she had lost the support it had given
to her breasts. The silky, chemise-like top of her combination
certainly offered none and left her feeling wickedly
uninhibited.

“We are at two minutes,” Lord Muir’s
voice interrupted her thoughts. “Are you ready, Julia?”

She nodded, her pulse quickening as
she faced the great fireplace where Rae so often lingered when the
door between times opened. She still didn’t know what she should
say, how she should greet him. She decided simply to smile and let
him do the speaking.

Julia slipped the pocket chronometer
from her waistband and watched the minute hand as it slipped
forward. Silence descended over the room as they all waited, their
attention fixed on their timepieces.

The hand on the watchface traveled the last
increment, pointing straight downward, aligned over the half-hour
mark. Julia held her breath and waited for the air to press down on
her and the objects in the room to disappear.

Nothing happened.

Fear clutched at her heart. Julia’s
gaze fastened on the watchface as the seconds ticked off one by one
by one. Still nothing happened. Tears sprang to her eyes. This
could not be.

Dashing away the moisture, she turned
and looked to the men, who were muttering amongst themselves, bent
over their maps and papers, furiously checking and rechecking their
calculations.

“Examine those figures for the two
shifts that should have occurred yesterday.”

“And the times for moonrise and
moonset and the daily progression.”

“Yesterday was the first quarter
phase, there was no moonset.”

“Gentlemen, we have not considered the
astronomical data for the Mackinnons’ time and how, or even if, it
correlates to our own.”

“With time shifting backward, it might
have the greater influence.”

“We simply don’t have that
information.”

“Can we attempt to construct
it?”

“Doubtful, but there is a copy of
Hansen’s lunar tables in the upper library that might be of help,”
Lord Muir interjected. “There are also writings of Clairaut and
Euler that will take us back a hundred years.”

“I’ll fetch them.” Mr. Armistead
shuffled to his feet and hastened out the door while the others
scrambled to find an answer.

Julia closed her eyes and lowered her
head. She couldn’t bear this. Anguish tore at her heart. Still she
clung to hope. Her head throbbed and she rubbed her temples as it
worsened.

The voices faded in her hearing and in the
same moment she felt a warm breath spilling over the nape of her
neck.

“Och, Julia. I thought ye’d ne’er
come.”

Lips pressed warmly against the curve of her
neck, lighting a fire beneath her skin.

Julia rounded and found herself
encompassed in Rae’s arms. She smiled wide, great tears spilling
down her cheeks. She started to embrace him, but halted,
remembering that others watched.

“We’re not alone.”

“Then we must remedy tha’. How long do
yer learned friends say we hae today?”

Julia quickly consulted with Lord
Muir, at the same time noting the others’ fervid activities, their
instruments obviously registering wild fluctuations. They
themselves looked ready to cry for joy.

“Three hours, child. Perhaps, a little
more,” Lord Muir replied. “The time durations should be increasing
at the same rate as before.”

Rae grinned as Julia relayed the news.
“Then let us no’ waste a minute o’ it.”

As Rae led her toward the arched door,
Julia bid the men a brief farewell. Passing through the portal, she
heard Mr. Thornsbury and Sir Henry exclaim they’d race outside to
see if they could observe Julia when she emerged from the tower
wall below.

“I hope you have a swift horse to see
us away.” She smiled up at Rae.

“Tha’ I do,
mo cáran.
Tha’ I
do.”

»«

Rae crossed the castle yard with Julia
to where Dugal’s son, Eamonn, waited with two horses, one saddled
for riding, the other laden with blankets and packs.

“Go raith maith
agat.
Thank ye, lad.” He tousled the boy’s
shaggy hair.

Rae strapped his
claidheamh mor,
his
“great sword,” to the lead beast, then moved aside for Julia to
mount. He swung up behind her.

“Can I gae wi’ ye?” Eamonn handed up
the reins, his face shining with eagerness.

Julia chose that moment to settle herself
back in the saddle, wiggling her backside against Rae and sending a
bolt of heat straight to his loins. He caught her hips and
swallowed hard.

“Another day, lad. My time will be
sore tested today.” Seeing the boy’s disappointment, Rae reached
down and rumpled the boy’s mop once more. “Beitris has a treat for
ye inside. Best get it while ‘tis hot.”

Eamonn brightened at that and dashed for the
hall.

Julia twisted in the saddle, moving
against Rae once more as she glanced over her shoulder. “You like
children, I see.” She smiled.

“Aye. Tha’ I do.” He grit his teeth as
she faced front again. Why must she speak of bairns while stoking a
fire in his private parts?

Pressing his heels to the garron’s
flanks, he urged the steed away from Dunraven.

Once they had put a little distance
between themselves and the castle, Rae freed the excess cloth of
his belted plaid. Drawing it up from the back and sides, he draped
it over his shoulders and front, forming a cloak that covered him
down to his knees and blanketed Julia in the process.

“Are ye comfortable and
warm,
mo cáran?

Clasping the enveloping tartan closed
before her, she leaned back against him. “Mmm, very.”

Beneath the layers of plaid and
Julia’s shawl, Rae slipped his free hand around her waist, securing
her against him. Instantly, he discovered she wore no corset, her
flesh yielding to the pressure of his fingers. The heat of her
body flowed through the thin barrier of her gown and warmed his
palm.

“Ah,
Dhia
, help me,” he muttered in
Gaelic as they rode on.

“What did you say?”

“Just a wee prayer for our
journey,
mo cáran.”

»«

Following a well-trod path, they soon
entered a valley of heather hills, shingled rivers, and copses of
birch and pine.

Here and there, they came upon crofts with
sturdy thatched dwellings, built to withstand the unforgiving
Highland weather. Ever the people poured from their fields and
cottages, smiling and greeting their laird, often offering him
drink and food from their humble hearths.

Their simple, heartfelt gestures
touched Julia deeply, for they revealed these people’s devotion to
this man.

Julia and Rae pressed on until they came to
yet another cottage, this one in sad repair. Rae reined the horse
to a halt.

“I’ll be but a moment,” he said softly
to her ear. Rae dismounted, tucking up the extra yardage of his
kilt, then took a stack of blankets and several packs from the
second horse.

A gaunt woman and three gaunt children
appeared in the doorway. Rae spoke with them quietly, giving over
the items, which the children promptly opened. Their small, smudged
faces glowed, and Julia could see, aside from the blankets, Rae’s
gifts were ones of food — sacks of grains and a large haunch of
venison.

The woman kissed Rae’s hands, tears
spilling from her eyes, wetting his skin. A lump clogged Julia’s
throat, the scene blearing through her own teary
vision.

Rae rejoined Julia, mounting behind her and
wrapping them both in his plaid once more. They rode on in
silence.

“She is a widow?” Julia guessed at
last when still he said nothing.

“Una’s husband died suddenly last
spring,” he replied somberly. “The crops failed, too, though many
o’ our kinsmen gave o’ their time tae work them. Una needs come tae
the castle wi’ her bairns afore winter sets in. I told her so, but
still she stays here at the croft wi’ her memories, in the house
her mon built her.”

“I can understand her feelings,” Julia
offered softly.

“As can I,
mo cáran.”
Rae gave her
waist a little squeeze, then released a breath, warming her neck.
“I’ll hae Lachlan and Ewen bring peat tae see her through till next
spring.”

Julia folded his words in her heart, storing
them with the other details of their short journey. How deep were
the bonds between these people and their laird, she reflected. From
what she knew of Rae Mackinnon, he was a man most deserving of the
esteem his kinsmen held for him.

Circled in the strength of his arms, she
felt secure and at peace as they traveled on, her blood thrumming
through her, steady and strong.

In short time, they entered the head
of a narrow, steep-sided valley, mountains soaring around them, the
tallest capped with snow. The sun burned off the last of the
lingering mist so that the landscape glowed softly, a shimmer of
mauves and soft browns in sundry shades.

Flocks of grouse darted through the
heather, and the roars of two stags echoed in the glen as they
issued challenge. Nearby, a doe grazed idly, indifferent to the
bucks’ posturing. Rae pointed out a short-eared owl, napping in a
fir tree, and a peregrine falcon soaring overhead.

The winding course continued, happy little
waterfalls springing out of the rocks all along the way. Julia
found herself utterly enchanted.

“Where are we?” she
whispered.

“Glendar. ‘Tis magical, is it
no’?”

Moments later, Rae brought the horses to a
halt at a stand of slender birches and dismounted.

He lifted Julia down, then offered her one
of the spare blankets for use as a mantle.

“Ye’ll need tae hitch up yer skirts.
We’ll be climbing a ways. There is a place I wish tae show ye, a
special place I used tae visit when a lad. ‘Tisna far, but ye’ll be
needin’ this.”

He handed her a large stick, more a staff
actually. He took another from the mount along with the last
blanket, a leather pack, and his sword which he strapped to his
side. Leaving the garrons fastened to the trees, they began their
climb with Rae in the lead.

Julia was thankful to be wearing
boots. She had donned them in hopes she and Rae might escape the
tower chamber and their ever-present audience. Climbing a
mountainside, however, wasn’t exactly what she had in
mind.

The terrain proved steep and rocky,
and the air grew thin and chill. Still, the exertion heated Julia,
and soon she felt hot, as on a summer’s day.

“Here we be.” Rae aided her up the
last distance.

The mountain was not high as mountains go,
and in truth qualified as no more than a large, boulder-strewn
hill, buttressing loftier elevations. But at its summit lay a
lake, and to the far end, a magnificent waterfall.