The Inscription (11 page)

Angus put his hand on Lachlan’s shoulder. “I see the years have not mellowed your temper.”

“My survival is dependent on keeping my mind alert. You would best remember that as well.” He looked past the quiet woods. “These festivals are too tame for my taste.”

Shouts broke through the laughter of the celebrations. Lachlan turned toward the sound. They headed back up the path.

“Hurry. Already the sunlight fades and we have yet to join the game.”

“Of what nature? Jousting, fencing?”

Lachlan called over his shoulder. “ ‘Tis more of a challenge than that.”

The room over the Rose and Thistle Tavern was well lit. Amber stood at the window, staring into the black darkness of the night sky as the seamstress, Grizel, altered her gown. All the celebrations of the festival had moved inside. As soon as she was finished getting dressed, she intended to get something to eat downstairs.

“I don’t know why I let you talk me into buying this dress.” She glanced over at Elaenor, who sat perched on the bed, a Cheshire cat grin plastered over her face.

“Lachlan will love your new red gown.”

“What little there is of it.”

Amber stared back at her reflection in the small wood-framed mirror on the wall,. The words, “plunging neckline,” came instantly to mind. She was revealing cleavage she didn’t know she had. During her travel back in time, she must have lost some crucial brain cells. Here she was, standing in the middle of a room, as Grizel worked on a dress Amber should never have bought in the first place.

She should have selected an outfit slightly more practical. Of course, she did need something to wear after Lachlan ruined the front of her tunic and there hadn’t been that many dresses to chose from at the festival.

Who was she trying to kid? She had picked out this particular number to see if Lachlan’s eyes would pop out when he caught a glimpse of her. But the dress was too big, and had to be taken in. She flinched as the old woman stabbed her skin with the needle. The seamstress was bent over with age, her face weatherworn and creased with wrinkles. But her eyes held a warm glow and her voice was gentle and kind.

“Sorry, milady, m‘ hands are not as nimble as once they were.” Grizel grimaced as she pushed herself off the floor.“ Tis done. Will mat be all? There is a lass in the village whose birthing time draws near. She asks for m’soothing herbs.”

The old woman had done a good job in a short period of time. This dress was easily the most beautiful garment Amber had ever worn. Even for her prom, she’d worn a black, formless sheath with a high neck and Cap sleeves. Her father had approved, and her mother had remarked that it was a dress she could easily shorten and wear to work.

“Lass, I’ll be going now.”

Amber shook herself free from her thoughts and reached for the bag of coins Lachlan had given her.

Grizel shook her head. “Nay, you are the laird’s betrothed and I owe him a debt that is beyond price. He comes to see us often, and we want for nothing.”

She picked up her needles and thread and slowly hobbled toward the door.

When she had left, Amber turned to Elaenor.

“I wanted to pay her. She worked hard, and life can’t be easy for a woman her age. Do you know what she was talking about?”

Elaenor slid off the bed. There was a note of hatred in her voice as she spoke. “Aye, I know well the reason. Some years past, when I was but little more than the age Gavin is now, men came to rid the Highlands of witches.”

Amber felt her blood turn to ice. “Go on.”

Elaenor lit another candle and set it on a table against the wall. “The men who claimed to be doing God’s work had tortured and burned one woman. It was claimed that she could turn the milk of a cow sour by her touch. Grizel and her daughter were accused of having the power to bring the dead back to life with their herbs and potions. When Lachlan received word of what was occurring, he was not pleased.”

The silence in the room deepened, broken only by sounds of merriment from below. Amber felt the moments tick by. “Please continue.”

“My brother freed all the women who were accused and ended the slaughter before it could worsen.”

Amber remembered what she’d learned about this age of superstition. The people involved were fanatical, and wouldn’t have given up so easily. “Didn’t they send more men?”

Elaenor shook her head. “Lachlan does not allow intolerance. No one fears the witch-hunters here. He has seen to it. His power reaches the royal courts. They will send no one to replace those he… dealt with.”

“And what of Grizel?”

“He discovered that Grizel had been crippled under the torturer’s hand, and her daughter blinded. He offered to bring them to the castle, but they wanted to stay in Inverness.” Elaenor smiled. “Lachlan has a kind heart, no matter how hard he tries to hide it. He has never forgotten Grizel and her daughter. He provided a cottage in die village and visits them often.” She stood, as though wanting to change the subject. “But why are we speaking of such things? My brother will be anxious to see your new gown.”

Amber smoothed the material over her waist. Lachlan didn’t share the superstitious views of the rest of this time period. In fact, he’d taken an additional step and actually defended those accused. A dangerous position in itself. But it meant that he would be her strongest ally if anyone ever accused her. As each day passed she felt the desire to tell him the truth increase. Of course, even if he was tolerant, there was no way he could grasp the notion of what she was saying.

Elaenor smiled. “If we do not join those downstairs soon, Lachlan will have departed.”

Amber linked her arm through Elaenor’s and guided her to the door. “Is your brother aware of your matchmaking tendencies?”

Yellow torchlight changed the ale in Lachlan’s tankard to a dark gold. It reminded him of Amber’s hair. He drained the tankard and looked about the crowded tavern. His mind was truly addled. Must everything remind him of her? He remembered seeing a child frown at the festival, and had thought Amber might enjoy telling the lad a story to cheer him; he heard laughter and wondered what she might be doing at that moment, or what she might be thinking. Elaenor had sent him a message that Amber had bought a new gown and would be joining him for the evening meal. And here he sat, waiting. If he be in such a desperate need of the company of a woman, there were many in this village who would welcome him and without putting demands on his time.

A hush fell over the tavern. He raised his head to determine what had caused such a distraction. His sister was approaching arm in arm with Amber. He stood. The heat in the tavern closed around him as she drew nearer. The gown accentuated her charms: her full breasts, narrow waist, and the sway of her hips. Lachlan’s pulse raced. He stood, his palms were sweating. He longed to caress her skin, to feel her naked body against his. She smiled and his heart stopped. He could not breathe nor speak words that he would trust. Stumbling backward, he sought the comfort of the cool night air.

Amber flinched as the tavern door slammed shut. She glanced at Elaenor. “Is something wrong?”

The young woman smiled. “From the expression on my brother’s face, I would say he finds your gown more than suitable.”

Morning sunlight glistened on the dew-covered grass. Amber, drawn by the cheers of the crowd, saw a juggler tossing bright colored balls in the air and a fire-eater performing next to him. Along the field adjoining the River Ness, men were playing a game that resembled a cross between American soccer and rugby. She wondered how soon it would be before women joined in these games. Centuries, no doubt. Too bad. She would have enjoyed the exercise and thought Elaenor might as well. Of course the trick would be to find something to wear that was easy to run in and would not cause a scandal.

Amber hadn’t been able to talk Elaenor into coming to the festival this morning. She had said she needed to finish her letter to her friend, Elizabeth, but promised to come later. Even so, Elaenor had insisted that Amber wear the red dress. She smiled, remembering Lachlan’s reaction. There was a moment when their eyes met… her face grew warm. She was acting like a schoolgirl with her first crush. It was unsettling.

A dog barked. A half-dozen boys raced toward her. Gavin led the pack. Their clothes were splattered with dirt and their faces flushed from running. They laughed and wrestled playfully.

Gavin stopped in front of her and handed her a sprig of wild heather. The stem was bent and the bloom wilted, but he presented it to her as though it were a long-stemmed rose. “This is for you.”

She took the flower from him, inhaling its fragrance. The unexpected gesture brought tears to her eyes. “Thank you. Would you like me to tell you all a story?”

He nodded, smiling so hard his dimples showed. He turned and whispered to his friends. “I told them you tell better stories than Torquil the minstrel.”

She laughed. “I don’t know about that, but I’ll give it a try.”

Amber led them to a small, grass-covered mound not far from the river. Shielding her eyes from the sun, she searched for Lachlan. He was nowhere in sight. Disappointed, she turned her attention back to Gavin and his friends.

One of the boys tugged on her gown. He was the smallest of the bunch with big brown eyes and chubby cheeks. She resisted the urge to put her arm around him. Boys this age felt they were too old for hugs.

Gavin’s words tumbled out in a rush. “Peter wants to know what the story will be.”

Amber rubbed her chin, deep in thought. She could tell them a few tales of the wonders of her century. She looked up at the sky and pointed.

“I’ll tell you about a man who walked on the moon.”

All the boys smiled. Amber eased herself down on the grass as they crowded in, focusing their attention on her. She began the story of Neil Armstrong, feeling a warm glow wash over her. It was the same sensation as when she’d first started teaching. If d been a long time since she’d felt this good about her chosen profession. As she was quoting Armstrong’s words, “one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind,” a leather ball seemed to fly from the sky. It landed beside her. The boys leaped to their feet, cheering and shouting.

Gavin pointed to a half-dozen men who were running straight for them. “We are in their way. We’d better move.”

She stood, dusted the loose grass from her dress and saw Lachlan running toward them. His chest was bare, his face was caked with mud and his eyes were focused on the ball that lay near her feet. Her heart beat out of control. He looked even more handsome today than he had last night.

Shouts of competition rang through the air as an opposing team of men ran from the opposite direction. The men had resumed the game they’d begun yesterday. A surge of exhilaration swept through her. It had been months since she’d played.

Amber ignored Gavin’s pleas to leave the area. Instead, she picked up the ball, raised it over her head and threw it an equal distance from both groups. Her college soccer coach had bragged that she had a strong and accurate throw in. The distance was not as good as it used to be, but not bad, if she did say so herself. Both teams veered in the direction the ball had taken. Lachlan reached it first. Muscles flexed, he looked over at her. He wore that expression all men have when they’re trying to impress a woman, and kicked the ball halfway across the meadow. She covered her mouth with her hand to smother a laugh. Some things would always be the same, thank goodness.

Gavin’s eyes were wide and his mouth open as he turned toward her. “Where did you learn the skill to throw?”

She’d be willing to bet a year’s teacher’s salary not too many women, in this century, could throw a ball as far as she just had. But before she could think of a plausible explanation, Gavin’s attention was diverted to the game. He’d forgotten all about the throw and the story. She smiled. Children were easily distracted.

She put her hand on his shoulder. “Why don’t you run along and watch your brother?”

Gavin hugged her. “I promise I shall listen twice as hard tomorrow.” He bolted for the field, followed by his friends.

It didn’t matter what century you were from, children were all the same. She smiled, watching the boys run along the sidelines. They had removed their shirts, no doubt in imitation of the men on the field. She noticed Gavin’s back had healed without leaving any scars from Bartholomew’s beating. She was little surprised, but maybe the boy’s wounds hadn’t been as deep as she had first thought. Hopefully any emotional injuries had healed as well.

She took a deep breath of the fragrant air and turned to watch Lachlan. He was in the lead, and looking strong and athletic. The morning had turned warm suddenly. She brushed her hair back from her shoulder and watched him. There was something about him that was different, something that set him apart. She couldn’t identify it, or why she enjoyed watching him. It must be the kilt.

The notes of a fiddle drifted toward her and she followed the sound. The relaxed atmosphere of the festival, as well as the warm October sun, conjured up the image of Camelot. A place where anything was possible and love was forever. Amber sighed and smiled at the daydreams that swirled in her head. There might be more of her Aunt Dora’s romantic nature in her than she thought. However, in the past, when a potential Prince Charming appeared, she had discovered his armor was tarnished. Her aunt always reminded her that she would have to kiss a lot of frogs before she found her prince. Amber had almost given up hope. Almost.

She headed in the direction of the music. A small gathering surrounded the fiddler; the tune was quick and lively. A circle dance began to form, increasing in size as people joined in. Those not participating clapped their hands in time to the music, while others sat on the grass nearby. Amber looked back toward where die men were playing. The game must be over. Lachlan was heading in her direction.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Elaenor run toward her. Amber smiled. “I thought you had a letter to write.”

“I did, but I heard the music, and remembered what you said about not losing myself in my books. Please, will you join in the dance with me?”