Love Across Time (20 page)

His stride was brisk, and she had to quicken her pace to stay at his side. They whizzed past several booths she would love to have explored, at a near run. One booth demonstrated the art of candle making which Mrs. Bixby would have found fascinating. Another displayed an array of women’s leather gloves. Which she could have used on the ride home; the reins had rubbed a blister in the palm of her hand.

Her breath came in short labored gasps. She glanced at their companions. Apparently, Rory and Connor were accustomed to the speed Liam had set, but her legs were shorter, and it took nearly two of her steps to equal his one.

“Liam,” she panted. “May we slow down or is there a place ye need to be in such a hurry?”

Dark eyes glanced down at her. A hint of color tinted his cheeks. “
Tha mi derlich a gaol
,” he apologized then shortened his steps to match hers.

They paused to watch tumblers flip, bounce, and jump their way down the street. To her, their contortions appeared painful, but their nimble bodies performed the twist and turns with ease. When the acrobats passed, Liam grabbed her hand and dragged her toward a bench where a Punch and Judy puppet show was in progress.

“Weel ye be all right here lass while me and me men get a drink of ale in the tavern across the street?”

Her gaze slid to Connor and Rory’s hopeful expressions. She’d seen the other four men enter the Boar’s Head while Liam paid the merchant for the rolls.

Seated on the sun-warmed bench, she assured him, “Aye, Liam, I’ll be fine. I’ll sit right here and enjoy me Black Bun until ye get back.”

It wasn’t a scolding, as far as scoldings went, but Liam’s face had a rosy tint when he realized he and his men had managed to eat their sweet roll while he’d raced her down the street.

“I’ll bring ye a cup of cider,” he offered.

“Thank ye.”

She watched them stride away in that ground eating gallop they had forcibly curbed while she walked with them. A moment later, Liam returned with her drink. The question in his dark eyes was easy to read.

“Go, Enjoy a drink with yer men,” she said barely able to keep the laughter from her voice.

“I’ll nae be long.” One rough calloused finger trailed down her cheek leaving a riot of emotions in its wake. He flashed her a brief, dazzling grin before he turned on his heel and fled toward the noisy tavern.

Removing the wrapper from the bun, she pinched off a bite and stuck the sweet bread in her mouth. A slight tug on her skirt drew her attention downward. A small toddler, a hand fisted into her skirts, eyed her roll. One small finger pointed to his open mouth. She had just popped a bite into his bird-like mouth when a woman raced up, grabbed the child, and lifted him in the air. Sturdy legs wrapped around his mother’s waist.

“Sorry, I be me lady. He got away afore I ken he be gone.” She hitched the child further up on her hip.

“No harm done.” Maggie watched fascinated as a little pudgy hand reached toward the bun. “Would ye mind if he had the roll?”

The young woman worried her upper lip several seconds before she answered. “Nae, the whole bun. His wee tummy couldnae hold it all.”

“Then half. I am sure he can eat that much.”

“If it pleases ye, me lady.”

Pinching the Black Bun in half, she handed a portion to the child. He grinned and stuffed his mouth full. The woman thanked her and turned to leave. The boy looked over his mother’s shoulder and waved. She waved back.

When she went back to her world, would Liam find another to marry? He hadn’t gone to Culloden to die, as Mrs. Bixby’s had feared. But what of his future? Would there be other wars for Liam to fight, to die in without an heir to lead the clan. The book had remained blank after Margaret’s fall. Admittedly, the book had been nearly full with only a few pages left, but since he was here, alive and well, why hadn’t he made more entries.

She rubbed her aching head in an attempt to banish her dismal thoughts. Fingers passed over the puckered scar. If only she could remember the past.

Everyone applauded at Punch’s closing line. “
That’s the way to do it
.”

Startled from her worrisome thoughts she attempted to avoid the crush as people began to disperse. Through the milling crowd, she searched for Liam. Neither he, nor any of his men made their way toward her. Standing on top of the bench, she tried to catch a glimpse of Liam’s dark hair and rugged features in the sea of bobbing heads. A glance in the direction of the tavern showed a horde of men, milling around attempting to gain entrance. Liam nor his men could exit, even if they tried. From her advantage point, she gazed around.

At the end of the street, a woman stood in front of a small tent staring at her. The woman’s dark gaze mesmerized Maggie. A chill of foreboding raced up her spine. Clothing draped over the woman’s large frame in layers of various colors, adding to her mystic allure. Transfixed, she jumped from her perch and wormed her way through the crowd to the end of the street.

Up close, the woman wasn’t as young as she appeared from a distance. The wrinkled face was that of an older woman. Black hair hung loose from under the red kerchief tied around her head. Like the merchant, her hair lacked the gray associated with her age.

“Welcome, my lady. I am Nadiya. I have waited for you.”

The soft voice vibrated through her. Maggie’s skin prickled as every nerve ending began to tingle. The gypsy’s intense stare reached deep inside her, until she felt nothing remained hidden. Not the past she’d lost, nor the future she sought.

Music from a nearby tavern and men’s drunken banter, along with children’s laughter as they ran among the crowd playing games, mutated to a roar in the hollow chamber in her mind. The smell of roasted meat on open fires failed to penetrate her senses. Neither did the gasps of the crowd when a flame swallower dipped burning torches down his throat draw her attention from the gypsy’s intent stare. Entranced, she offered no resistance as the woman grasped her hand. Her fingers tingled, grew warm, a burning sensation traveled up her arm. She attempted to jerk her hand back. The gypsy’s grip tightened.

“The warming will pass when I have your full reading.”

Tiny bits of light flashed in Nadiya’s dark eyes. When the heat became nearly more than Maggie could tolerate the woman released her. A faint thread of hysteria wormed its way up the back of her throat. She swallowed, hard.

“Your husband is the bakery merchant,” Maggie stammered. A barrage of conflicting emotions swamped her.

“Yes.” The softly spoken word held an ominous quality.

“He told ye I be here?” The old man must have told his wife to watch for her; that Liam had a full purse and was willing to part with a portion of his coin.

“Besnik told me nothing. I knew you would come this day.” Her unfathomable gaze held Maggie’s as she attempted to search further into Maggie’s soul.

Icy slivers skittered down Maggie’s spine. Her heart pounded against her ribs as her stomach churned. A tight band encircled her chest and constricted her breathing. Her mouth went as dry as a hot summer day.

“How,” she whispered with a slight tinge of wonder.

The woman’s stare intensified. Her eyes appeared to glow. Deep penetrating orbs that mesmerized, probed deep inside Maggie until she couldn’t break the spell the old woman had woven around her.

She leaned forward, and Maggie found herself gravitating closer. Nadiya lowered her voice to a mysterious whisper. “You have traveled many years to and fro. Conquered that which most thinks is impossible. The answer lies within your heart. Don’t be so blinded by the past that you fail to recognize the future and clasp it to your bosom.”

Strong fingers curled around her upper arms and jerked her back against a hard chest. Startled, she let out a small squeak. Instinctively she knew Liam had found her. Nadiya pulled back, her gaze fixed above and to the left of Maggie’s shoulder.

“Ah...your husband has come.” Brown eyes twinkled with merriment.

Speechless, she stared at Nadiya’s amused wrinkled face. How had she known Liam was married? Maggie frowned. If the woman had been such a good fortuneteller, she’d have realized Liam was not her husband, but Margaret’s.

“We must leave. The hour grows late,” Liam growled in her ear.

He swung her around and grasped her hand to drag her away. She stumbled a few steps but he didn’t slow down. He cast a quick glance down at her
s
he assumed to make sure she remained upright
then resumed his fast pace.

“My lady,” the woman called.

Maggie glanced over her shoulder.

“You possess that which you seek.” With those cryptic words, she ducked beneath the tent flap out of sight.

“Why did ye wander off? I told ye to stay put.”

Liam couldn’t disguise the aggravation that crept into his voice. When he’d noticed Margaret gone, fear had ripped away the mellow languor the two mugs of ale had instilled. Afraid she’d wandered off and gotten lost, he plowed through the crowd calling her name. The streets weren’t safe for a woman to roam unescorted. His heart pounded in panic. Then he’d seen her with the fortuneteller. Relief swamped him, but a new dark, ominous fear had twisted inside him when he heard what the gypsy told her. He refused to allow anyone to encourage her belief in time travel, so he had rushed her away from the gypsy.

Margaret looked over her shoulder at the fortuneteller, and he gave her hand a not so gentle tug. The gypsy missed his glare when she ducked into her tent. He continued to scold Margaret as he dragged her toward the livery where his men waited.

“Ye shouldnae have wondered away. I’ll nae have ye upset by some old woman’s lunatic rantings.”

They sure as bloody hell had upset him.

“The show was over, and I could not find you.”

He cast a sideways glance at his wife. He arched one brow upward and studied her. Bloody hell, bloody hell, the situation was worse than he thought; she’d gone back to speaking like a Sassenach.

A bright smile, full of eagerness, lit her delicate features as she gazed up at him. “Liam, I think she understood that I am a ti
”

“Here be our horses.” Holding the raw emotions tearing him apart, inside, he interrupted her.

Conner and Rory stood outside the stable holding the reins to his and Margaret’s horses. The other four guards were mounted. The tight-lipped frown she gave him when he lifted her atop the gray and handed her the strips of leather, told him she was annoyed with him. He turned away, unable to bear her displeasure. Didn’t she realize the emotion roaring through him wasn’t anger, but desperation at the thought of losing her to something beyond his understanding? Fear, that if he lost her, he himself would be lost?

Once again, his men surrounded Margaret as he took the lead. Several times Conner attempted to draw him into a conversation, but he mumbled some incoherent answer until Conner desisted and remained silent. Margaret and her conviction that she’d traveled through time possessed his thoughts.

He had postponed his search for the Menzies’ brooch for too long. As long as Margaret thought the piece of jewelry held the power to her return to a place he’d never heard of, she wouldn’t be content to be his wife. When they reached the castle, he’d begin his search immediately. He’d search every nook and cubbyhole until he discovered its whereabouts. Then hide the bloody thing. Without the brooch, she’d abandon her strange ideas. His heart gave a dull thud. Wouldn’t she?

Grooms stood ready to take control of the horses as they dismounted in front of the castle. He lifted Margaret from her mount and escorted her inside.

“Ye must be tired after such a long ride. Would ye like to rest afore the evening meal?”

With her safely tucked up in her room he could begin his search of the castle.

“No, I am not tired. I would prefer you show me your home.”

She smiled, but her precise speech betrayed her continued annoyance. Blue eyes regarded him with a calculating expression while her dainty foot tapped the floor.

Her unexpected answer sent his thoughts catapulting through her reasons why. He eyed her with suspicion. Did she want to conduct her own search and expected him to guide her through the castle and point out locations where the brooch might be? A cold, bitter, despair of defeat settled in his chest. What would he do if she found the brooch first?

Unable to come up with a good reason not to grant her request, he asked, “Where would ye like to start?”

“The gardens. I have seen them from my window and they are beautiful.”

The breath he held escaped in a long silent sigh as he offered her his arm. “If ye dinnae mind, I need to take a slight detour and speak with my steward. When we were in Weem, I noticed a few houses needed the roof mended before the spring rains. He will make sure they have the necessary supplies to make the repairs.”

His steward sat at a large desk adding a row of figures when they entered. While he spoke with Adair, Margaret meandered around the room, touching first one thing then another. Disconcerted over her curiosity, he wondered if she familiarized herself with something forgotten or was she fascinated with items new and strange to her.

Stop it! It’s not as if you believe she came from the future.