Surviving Scotland (3 page)
I glanced back into the hallway and eyed the doors. One of them had to belong to me; the question was, which one? My teeth began to chatter; my first priority was getting warm. I raised my hand to knock on the first door and then waited. No answer. I knocked again, praying that if there was someone in there, they’d at least yell at me before I opened the door to see them dressing or something else equally embarrassing.
“Leave it outside, I’ll grab me boots in a minute.”
I gasped at the voice and jumped back, covering my mouth to mute the noise. Clearing my throat I said a quick “aye” before walking across the hall.
Please let this be my room!
I knocked on another door. No answer. I knocked again, yet there was still no answer. So I pushed open the door, closing my eyes as I did. When no one shouted or screamed, I opened one eye then the other. A lumpy mattress graced a smooth wooden bed. The corner had a small chest and wardrobe. One window offered light, and a single candle was on the bedside table. I entered carefully. The temperature of the room was cold and damp. The fireplace had fresh wood, but no fire.
One-way
to find out if this is my, or at least a woman
’
s room
. I walked over to the wardrobe and opened it, searching for dresses, or lack thereof, but it was empty. I twisted my lips in confusion and tried to think of what to do next. Footsteps sounded in the hallway and I froze, afraid. Since I was pretty sure this wasn’t my room, it could belong to whoever was walking this way. I thought of hiding. A glance around the room provided no help unless I wanted to throw myself into the wardrobe, but what if a man walked in and began undressing, only to find me rather than his clothes? My hands began to sweat and I glanced to the door as the footsteps came to a halt. The large wooden door prevented me from seeing who stood at the threshold, but only for a moment. Ioan walked through after only a moment’s pause and to my horror, pulled off his shirt. I gasped at the sight of his bare flesh. Ioan’s movements froze, and I saw his green eyes lock with mine as he dropped the shirt onto the floor in a wet heap.
“Are ye lost, lass? What are ye doin’ here in my chamber?”
The sight of his bare skin caused my own skin to tingle with an awareness I hadn’t ever experienced. His chest was chiseled with hard planes of muscle that flexed as he made fists with his hands. The chill that had nearly overtaken me earlier became a furious heat that fueled a blush.
“Really, lass, it’s no’ like ye have never seen me shirtless afore. I’ve no’ changed that much… have I?” Ioan raised his eyebrow at my obvious study of his bare chest. I stammered then cleared my throat.
“I was, er, l-lighting your fire.”
Both eyebrows shot up at my words and a wicked gleam spread through his eyes. I wondered why my innocent words had caused such a reaction.
“Elle, I don’t think yer uncle would approve o’ such a… task.” He grinned at me and picked up his shirt, covering himself once more.
I needed to gather my thoughts, but how did a lady do that when distracted by a half-naked man? “I’ll leave you then.” I nodded, my face still warm from my earlier embarrassment.
Ioan let me pass without a word and I walked down the hall, giving the doors dubious glances.
What now?
With my luck, history would repeat itself, only this time I’d be seeing an old man undressing. I shuddered at the thought. Just as I was walking up to another door to knock, Ioan’s hand grasped my arm and pulled me in the opposite direction.
“I’m startin’ to believe ye truly did fall on yer head! Get to yer room and change, lass. Ye’ll catch yer death, ye will.”
His hand was gentle on my arm, but he pulled me with enough force to cause me to trip a few times before we reached the last door in the hallway.
“Here ye go. I’m sure yer Morag will be up shortly to see ye.”
He opened the door, gesturing for me to enter. His expression was impatient, so I mumbled a “thank you” and rushed in, closing the door behind me. I slid down the door and landed in a gentle heap on the floor.
I should have braved the kidnappers.
The room was very similar to Ioan’s but with more of a feminine touch. The bed, wardrobe, and side table were all in the same place, but a faint scent of lavender was in the air. A fire crackled and popped in the hearth, and another table stood next to it with a brush and few glass bottles sitting on top.
The room was warmer than the hallway, and I rushed to the fire, holding out my shaking hands. A moment later I took a step back and began to take off the soaked dress and plaid I still had draped around me. They landed with a soggy thump on the floor, and I removed my stays next. With a trembling shiver that made it difficult to walk, I searched for a dry garment. I found a light shift and pulled it over my body, not caring that I wasn’t properly corseted. I was too cold to care. I grabbed a woolen blanket from the bed, wrapped it around my shoulders, and hovered next to the fire once more. As I began to warm, I reached up and pulled out my braid, loosening the locks so that they would dry. A twig was twisted in my hair and I removed it, tossing into the fire. It hissed as it sizzled then caught fire. On the floor below me, my wet hair left a small puddle. The usually golden locks hung dark against the woolen blanket, and I sniffed as my nose began to run.
Though I had warmed a bit, I was unable to stop shivering. My knees were unsteady so I knelt before the fire, careful not to let the blanket burn. My mind was foggy but I fought against it. As the moments passed, my head became heavier and I fought to keep my eyes open.
“Elle?” a woman called as she knocked on my door. I tried to rise and answer it, but was too weak. I slumped back to the floor and watched the door open. An elderly woman with long, silver hair in a braid gave me a concerned gasp just before the world faded into grey.
I was running, trying to catch up. A man with broad shoulders leaned over his horse, urging it faster as his chestnut hair flew free. His golden horse stretched its neck forward, pounding the ground harder with its thundering hooves. Desperate to see his face, I pushed myself faster, but my stockings and stays held me tightly, preventing any further movement. I called to him and fought against the tightening corset and suffocating gown. The pressure continued to increase and began to prevent me from breathing deeper to satisfy my body’s demand. Hot… Everything was so hot. The gown grew tighter and tighter till I couldn’t move my arms or legs any longer. I screamed at the sensation of the world closing in on me. My breathing became short and erratic in my fear, and I thrashed with increasing violence till my panting for breath held me still. Unable to move, I gave in to the darkness that surrounded me.
****
Slowly I became aware of the sound of water sloshing in a bowl. I was so thirsty, but I couldn’t find my voice. After swallowing a dry lump in my throat, I tried to speak.
“Water.”
The croaking noise was barely discernible to my own ears, but soon a cup was put to my lips and I drank greedily.
“Slow now, lass. Donna fash yerself. Thar’s a plenty.”
With herculean effort, I opened one eye and soon the other followed, but my sight was blurry and all I saw were shadows. The effort was too much, and I let my eyes close as sleep beckoned.
“That’s a good lass, try again. Let me see yer blue eyes.”
Again, I opened my eyes slowly and let them adjust. This time I was able to see a woman’s face. She didn’t look familiar, but her voice was calming in its deep, soft cadence. My eyes left her face and began to glance about the room. The furnishings were sparse. A nagging feeling of missing something important tickled my mind, but I couldn’t quite recall what I was missing. The woman patted my shoulder then touched my forehead.
“Lass, ye can sleep now. Ye’ll be stronger in the mornin’.”
I obeyed and drifted into a deep slumber.
What seemed like moments later, I awoke to the sound of a door opening. I opened my eyes but closed them quickly against the light. With a groan, I lifted my excessively heavy hand and placed it over my eyes.
“Ye’re movin.’ ‘Tis a good sign.” The voice belonged to the same woman as before. The comforting lilt caused my body to relax.
“Can ye open yer eyes, lass? Can ye see me?”
I kept my hand over my eyes, but nodded. After a moment I removed my hand and blinked rapidly ‘til I focused on the woman’s face. The lines on her face were deeply etched in her skin, and her grey hair was braided haphazardly over her shoulder. The pale blue of her eyes glowed with kindness, and her skin crinkled when she gave me a small smile. Two of her lower teeth were missing. Her hands were warm as she touched my face for a moment before brushing a few stray hairs from my brow.
“Are ye hungry, lass? Thirsty perhaps?”
My stomach twisted at the thought of food, but water sounded heavenly. “Water, please.” My voice was still hoarse, but it was louder than before.
“Aye.” She turned and filled an earthen mug with water from the pitcher beside my bed. She reached around my back and helped me sit up. The water was cool and sweet as it trailed down to my belly, and I emptied the cup. She offered me another and I drank it, as well.
“That’s good, lass. Ye are certainly on the mend.”
She helped me lie back gently on the mattress and my eyes grew heavy once more.
What
’
s
wrong with me
? All I wanted to do was sleep. I fought against it this time, needing to know what had happened and where I was.
“Where am I?” My voice cracked over the words. The woman’s expression changed from kind to concerned.
“Donna ye ken, lass? Ye’re at home.” She spoke quietly while watching my face intently.
“Home?” I considered her words as I glanced around the room once more. Everything was unfamiliar. The sensation of being on the edge of remembering but unable to grasp onto the memory tormented me as I searched for something to trigger my recollection.
“Aye, lass, this is yer room. What do ye remember last?”
The woman’s warm hand grasped my own as I searched my memory. Faces and broken shards of memories flashed through my mind with confusing speed. When I tried to remember anything, my mind was blank, utterly and completely blank.
“Ach, lass, donna you worry. Sometimes that happens with a fever.”
“Fever?”
“Aye, ye were terribly ill. Sometimes, when the fever rages, a body can forget things. ‘Tis possible, then, ye will remember it later. Donna fret. All will be well.”
I didn’t understand. Oh, it made sense that I had been sick. My body testified to that truth readily, but memory loss? Something still wasn’t right. But before I could summon the strength to ask, darkness consumed me.
****
The meadow was warm against my skin and I daydreamed, watching the fluffy clouds pass by. A man stood over me and called my name, caressing it with his voice. I smiled, but he didn’t return the gesture, rather his expression was concerned and worried. I blinked and the meadow faded away and was replaced by my room, but the man remained.
“Elle? Are ye awake?”
I blinked again, trying to determine if I were dreaming or awake. The man was familiar and I had a flash of memory where he spoke to me in a meadow but I wasn’t sure if it was real or a dream I had experienced.
“Elle?” He touched my cheek with care and began caressing it with his thumb. I closed my eyes and leaned against his hand, savoring the tingling sensation.
“I tho’ we were ta lose ye, lass. Tell me, do ye ken who I am?”
I opened my eyes and studied him. His shirt was open at the collar just enough to give me a small view of his chest, and I had a mental image of him only half-dressed. In that moment I remembered his name. A few scattered memories flooded back as well but all in a mixed jumble.
“Ioan?”
“Aye, lass, ‘tis Ioan. ‘Tis Ioan.” His tone was reverent and laced with relief. He grasped my hand, and his green eyes were tender as he gazed at me.
The woman who had been nursing me walked into the room with muted footsteps. She offered me a secretive grin before sobering and regarding Ioan.
“I told ye she was on the mend. Had ta see fer yerself, eh?” she scolded playfully.
Ioan’s face flushed, and I was curious as to why he was embarrassed. He recovered so quickly I wondered if the blush was imagined.
“I see she’s been in good hands.”
“Aye, ‘tis true. Now, lass, can ye sit up fer me?”
I tried to lift myself, but Ioan reached down and pulled me upright with a gentle yet firm grasp on my shoulder.
“Thank you.” The words were mumbled as the movement created dizziness in my vision.
“Easy now,” the woman whispered as she sat on the bed next to me, nudging Ioan further away. “Can ye drink this?”
She handed me a mug of what looked like tea. I drank it happily only to choke on the bitter taste.
“Sorry, lass. ‘Tis the herbs, but ‘twill give yer body some help in healin’.”
I nodded and forced myself to drink it all. Ioan and the woman watched me carefully ‘til I handed the cup back.
“I feel terribly rude. You’ve taken such good care of me, and I don’t know your name.”
Ioan’s expression fell into disbelief, but the woman gave me a caring pat on my hand that was accentuated by her tender gaze.
“I feared this, aye, I did. The fever was high.” She nodded, continuing to pat my hand. “I’m Morag. Ye’ve known me since ye were a wee lassie.”
“What do you mean I’ve known you… wait… I’ve lost my memory? But I remember him—” I paused, searching my mind. I remembered his name, but nothing else, just a few scattered impressions. Ioan’s gaze cut to me, his green eyes regarding my expression.
“Aye, ‘tis true, but donna worry, ye’ll remember soon enough. ‘Til then we’ll help ye along. I tried ta ask ye earlier, but ye fell into that deep sleep. What is the last thing ye remember?”
I remembered her question, remembered vivid dreams of horses and being unable to breathe.
“I couldn’t breathe,” I whispered to myself. Ioan coughed and I glanced at him.
“Elle, we had ta hold ye down. The fever made ye see things that weren’t true. Ye fought mightily, ye did. We finally held ye fast, but by then ye had worked yerself up inta such a lather that I was worried yer heart would burst. I’m sorry if I was too hard on ye. I dinna want ye ta hurt yerself.”
Ioan’s tone was apologetic, but was edged with fear. He shuffled his feet and broke eye contact. A muscle in his jaw twinged as he clenched and unclenched his teeth and flexed his hands back and forth.
“I understand.”
I almost died.
“All’s well now, lassie. Do ye remember anything afore that?”
I closed my eyes to concentrate. A vision of Ioan standing without his shirt flashed through my mind but quickly disappeared, leaving me to wonder if I had dreamed that as well. The feeling of being on the brink of remembering assaulted me, and I waited for everything to find its place in my mind. But it didn’t happen.
“I don’t know. I remember flashes and images of things that could have taken place, but I don’t know if they are real or a dream I had when my fever raged.”
Defeated, I slumped back onto the bed.
“Ye will remember lass, ye will.” Ioan nodded but I wasn’t as positive. I stared at the ceiling, trying to figure out my next step. If I were to be lost in my own mind, then I might as well begin asking questions.
“Where am I?”
Ye’re in Bann Keep. A part o’ Carnasserie Castle. Ye’ve lived yer whole life here.” Ioan spoke carefully, but there was a fear that lurked in his green eyes.
“Your accent… It’s Scottish, is it not?”
“Aye.”
“Why don’t I speak like you if I’ve lived here my whole life?”
Ioan and Morag traded glances. Surely I wasn’t the only one who noticed how my voice didn’t follow their brogue?
“I donna ken lass… perhaps from the fever as well?” Morag answered after a moment.
I nodded, unsure and still confused. I breathed deeply, sorting through this new information.
“What of my family?”
Morag’s glance fell to the floor and Ioan stiffened beside her.
More bad news.
“Ye are in the care o’ yer Uncle Maol, laird of the castle and Clan Campbell. Yer parents have both been gone for some time.
My eyes filled with tears for a family I didn’t remember but mourned the loss of anyway. A moment passed in silence before I drew together my strength to ask a few more questions. My eyes flicked to Ioan; just who was he?
“And how do I know you?” As Ioan’s eyes widened, I hastened to explain. “I remember your name, and you are familiar, yet anything beyond that is jumbled, I’m afraid.”
Ioan glanced to Morag before answering.
“Ioan is a foster from a nearby Campbell clan. He’s been with ye for most o’ yer life.” Morag said.
“I was, “he paused and cleared his throat, “injured in battle, and me regiment sent me here to assist yer uncle.” He hesitated before continuing. “On me way ta the castle, I found ye in the Kilmartin Glen. Ye were hidin’, likely ‘cause ye heard the horses. The Jacobites have been pressurin’ yer uncle ta allow them to set up a garrison. But he’s a loyal Covenanter. That’s likely why ye hid. Ye tho’ we were after ye. When I saw ye, ye didn’t recognize me. But we didn’t have time ta talk much because we were ambushed by a band o’ Jacobites. Ye ran away, but I caught up with ye and brought ye here, but afore we reached the castle, it rained. I tried ta keep ye warm, but I failed. Forgive me, Elle? ‘Twas because o’ me that ye were taken ill.”
His brogue was broken with emotion. His moss green eyes were tormented. After searching my gaze for a moment, he closed his eyes, clenching his jaw with a self-recriminating expression. When he glanced back at me, I nodded. Yet I didn’t see how it was his fault. Since I was already in the glen, I would have gotten wet had he been there or not. In truth, he saved me.
“It wasn’t your fault, Ioan. Thar’s nothing to forgive,” I spoke gently, holding his gaze.
Ioan nodded at me and then exchanged a glance with Morag. The expressions they wore told me I was missing something. Curiousity burned in my chest, but I kept silent.
“I’ll leave ye be now, lass. I’m thankful ye are soon ta be well.” Ioan nodded and strode from the room with graceful steps. The plaid he wore accented his broad back, and his dark hair was tied behind his head with a strap of leather.
“Some things never change,” Morag whispered.
I glanced at her and blushed, seeing that she was watching my intense study of Ioan’s backside.
“Enough talkin’ fer now. I’ll be bringin’ ye up some broth in a bit. ‘Til then sleep, lass. Sleep.”
With only the rustling of her homespun dress moving as she rose, she walked out the door, leaving me with my scattered and lost thoughts.
