A Slip In Time (21 page)

Rae drew his gaze from the hearth,
where a fire danced beneath the great hood bearing the Mackinnon
crest. Julia didn’t like the crest, he had seen it in her eyes. She
thought the boar, with the shank wedged in its mouth, repulsive.
She had the right of it. The corner of his mouth twitched. ‘Twas an
ugly beast.

He sobered his expression as he
regarded his cousin. “Beitris is in a temper? ‘Tis a sorry day for
us all.”

Dugal nodded his wooly head. “Aye, but
there’s more ye need be knowin’, especially if ye be thinkin’ o’
takin’ Moira tae wife. The lass is sore superstitious.”

Rae felt the room’s air press in upon
him. Rounding in place, he found Julia standing before him. Her
beauty stole his breath.

“Moira’s taken tae
plantin’ rowan and elder afore and aft the keep and settin’ a cogue
o’milk out at night, fearin’ a
glastig
haunts Dunraven.” Dugal
rumbled on. “She thinks ‘tis the spirit o’ Isobel. Can ye do naught
aboot it? Next we’ll all hae bars o’ iron in our beds and black
cocks buried in the yard.”

Rae’s eyes moved over Julia’s golden
fall of hair and fetching gown. Och, but the lass knew how to stir
a man’s blood. His gaze settled on her waist and he frowned, seeing
her constricted dimensions.

Julia’s gaze traveled to Dugal, who
was still speaking in their Gaelic tongue, then back to Rae. “I see
we both have guests,” she said, wrapping her arms about her waist,
hiding her misdeed. “There are four gentlemen with me here in the
bedchamber tonight.”

“I dinna like the sound o’ tha’,” Rae
muttered in Gaelic, crossing his own arms over his
chest.

“Nor do I,” Dugal asserted.

Rae shot him a glance.

“Moira is comely, true.” Dugal
shrugged. “But ne’er hae I met a more hard or superstitious lass.
D’ye know wha’ she did yesterday?”

Julia took a step toward Rae, netting back
his attention.

“It’s all quite proper,” she began to
explain. “They are men of science, up from London to study the
phenomena. Lord Muir, of course, is with us.” She gestured toward
the opposite wall. “Sir Henry Boles is beside him, then Mr. Robert
Armistead, and Mr. Thomas Thornsbury.”

Rae scanned the vacant space,
following her movements. “I see.”

Dugal brightened. “Aye, I thought ye
would. I’m glad we’re agreed on tha’. There must be a way tae prod
her and her father tae move along without being inhospitable.
Malcolm MacChlerich does yer brother no good. He fires Iain’s blood
and puts ideas in his head, as if Iain didna hae enough o’ his
own.”

Julia tilted her head to one side, and Rae
realized he had spoken Gaelic again.

“Mr. Thomsbury suggests you light a
candle.” She gestured to the empty corner. “The flame will show any
disturbances in the air flow while our two times are open to one
another.”

“Verra well, if tha’ be his wish,
though there’s always a bit o’ a breeze through the room.” Rae
spoke English for Julia’s benefit.

“Och, hae a heart,” Dugal complained.
“Ye know I dinna ken tha’ cursed tongue. The question is, wha’ are
ye goin’ tae do and how soon?”

Rae motioned for Dugal to wait a moment,
then located a candle on a side shelf and lit it. The flame shot
upward, straight and unwavering. He returned to Julia.

“There. Yer friends can watch their
candles while we find a more private place.”

“Who’ sae ye, mon?” Dugal’s face
wrinkled with frustration. “Wha’s got hold o’ ye? Speak yer mither
tongue, will ye?”

Rae looked to Dugal. “I said, cousin,
I want ye tae watch the candle for me and tell me if the flame
flickers and by how much.”

Dugal squinted him a look, inclining
his bearish head. “Hae ye gone daft? Why would a candle need
watchin’?”

“‘
Tis a test,
cousin.” Rae clapped him on the shoulder. “And while ye are doin’
so, see if ye can think o’ a way tae get Moira and her father tae
leave Dunraven. There’s someone . . . er,
somethin’, I
must see
tae for now.”

A grin split Dugal’s red-gold beard.
“Och, sae ye do hae someone tucked away in a haystack. I’ve been
wonderin’ as much.” He gave Rae a manly wink. “Tell me, is she
bonnie and buxom?”

Rae smiled. “Gloriously fair and wi’ a
wee waist ye wouldna believe.”

»«

Julia wondered what Rae spoke to the
bearish-looking man beside him. But in the next instant, Rae’s gaze
sought hers. She slipped her hand in his and accompanied him to the
studded, arched door. She paused before the threshold, turned, and
smiled at the men lined in a row on the floor.

“We’ll be back soon. You needn’t
worry. I have the chronometer to gauge when I should
return.”

Julia transferred her gaze to Rae as
they crossed through the portal. What she would give to see the
looks on the men’s faces as they witnessed her disappearing into
the solid stone wall.

»«

Rae paused to consider which direction to
lead Julia.

Guests and castlefolk slept in the
vaulted chamber above, as well as in the narrow rooms hollowed out
in the tower’s thick walls. Above that, guards kept watch on the
roof and parapet. Below, more clansmen slept on pallets in the
hall, a few still awake and in their cups.

“‘
Tis my thought the only privacy
we’ll find this night lies withoot. Are ye up for a ramble around
the grounds?”

Julia nodded, her green-eyed gaze
brushing his. “I’ve done some of my own rambling around Dunraven
since my arrival. You’ll find I’m already familiar with the lay of
the land — at least, that surrounding the current-day
castle.”

“And is tha’
yer
current day, o’ my
current day?” He flashed her a smile.

Guiding Julia down the stairwell, they
entered the darkened hall. There, shadowy shapes slept near the
glowing fire, and beside them, the castle hounds. The mongrels
raised their heads at their passage, sensing Julia’s presence, Rae
guessed. Surprisingly, none growled. Instead, they flattened back
their ears and dropped their heads low, a few giving forth fretful
whines.

“I think they’re on tae ye.” Rae
grinned.

His smile faded as his gaze fell on a
small group of men on the opposite side of the hall, hunched over
their ale. He recognized them in the hovering torchlight, a sorry
lot to be sure. Worse, his brother, Iain, kept company with
them.

As Rae continued to direct Julia
toward the hall’s entrance door, Iain turned a bleary eye in Rae’s
direction and lifted his cup, as if in a mocking toast.

Julia lifted a hand to Rae’s arm.
“Those men, I saw them in the hall yesterday, but they seem somehow
different from the rest. Who are they?”

“Their no’ Mackinnons, tha’ I can tell
ye, exceptin’ my brother there.” Rae acknowledged Iain with a nod,
but did not ease the frown on his brow. Iain tells me these be auld
friends. Yet, yesterday was the first I laid eyes tae them.” He
vented a breath. “Iain is quick tae remind me, I hae been lang from
the Highlands. Perhaps, ‘tis no’ so strange I’ve no’ seen them
aboot afore now. Still, I’ll ask Dugal wha’ he knows o’
them.”

“Dugal?”

“Aye. Tha’ great bear tha’s keepin’
watch o’ the candle upstairs.”

Catching a plaid down from a wall peg,
he ushered Julia to the door. “Come, lass, let’s seek oot a place
for ourselves. I must ask ye tae wait tae slip on the blanket,
though. The others might no’ take well tae seein’ a plaid floatin’
through the air o’ its own accord.”

Julia shared a quiet laugh with him at the
image that conjured.

Outside, Rae bid the guards good
evening. “Iver, Coll, the night is quiet, I take it?”

“Aye, no’ even the
mappies
are oot,” Iver
declared cheerfully.

“‘
Tis quiet indeed wi’oot so much as
the hares paddin’ aboot. I’ll be takin’ a turn around the grounds,
mayhap down tae the burn.”

“Dinna let the water kelpies get ye.”
Coll beamed. “Moira lectured us well on tha’.”

Rae shook his head. “It doesna
surprise me.”

Once beyond the guards’ sight, Rae
wrapped Julia in the warmth of the plaid.

He scratched his jaw. “Wi’ so little
time, I suppose we canna gae far.”

“Lord Muir assures me we will have an
hour and a half, perhaps more.” Julia quickened her step, matching
his. “Is there a walled garden nearby? That would offer some
seclusion and be lovely besides.”

“If ye like cabbages
and
kail
w’
a bit o’ barley and oats sown
in.” He sent her a smile. “Tha’ is the extent o’ our pleasure
gardens here in the Highlands, exceptin’ when peas and beans are
in season.”

“Where do you suggest
then?”

“The burn, I think, where we rode oot
yesterday. There is a copse o’ firs further downstream, beyond the
birches, tha’ will shield us from the guards and block the
wind.”

He raised his eyes to the night sky.
“The moon has swelled enough tae light our way, I am
thinkin’.”

Julia drew the plaid over her head
against the cutting breeze and kept up a brisk pace at Rae’s side.
All around rose the dramatic silhouettes of ebony mountains
against a sky of indigo blue.

“I’ve been thinkin’, lass.” Rae’s rich
voice brought back her attention. “We hae spoken much o’ myself,
but I would know more o’ ye. Hampshire, ye say, is yer place o’
birth and schoolin’. What o’ yer home and family?”

Julia tugged the shawl tight about
her, as if a shield. “My home is Prembley Manor. It lies west of
Wickham in the Meon valley, not far from the ancient forest of
Bere. It’s a beautiful corner of England. I think you’d like it,
especially for the fishing. River Meon is famed for its sea
trout.”

“Sounds invitin’.” Rae kept an arm
about her, aiding her over the uneven and somewhat rocky ground.
“Yer home must be a grand affair tae hae its own name.”

“It is a fine and spacious home, but
not so grand as others.”

“Are ye a spoiled noblewoman, then?”
he teased lightly. “Yer father, he is titled?”

“A baronet.”

“Then yer mother did well in her
marriage.”

Julia’s footsteps faltered, causing
Rae to tighten his hold on her. She turned to him.

“Mother thought so.” Her voice
caught.

“Wha’ is it, Julia? Hae I said
somethin’ tae distress ye?”

Julia shook her head, the old pain
rising and engulfing her heart. “My parents loved one another
beyond measure, and for that they were rich. But my mother’s family
ostracized her completely for marrying my father.”

“I dinna understand. They love each
other and ye say he is a baronet.”

“It is a hereditary title with some
import, but its holder is still considered a commoner. Even in
Parliament, a baronet cannot sit in the House of Lords.”

Julia looked away toward the burn, where
moonlight glistened on its slow-moving current.

“What my mother’s family truly never
forgave was that she did not sacrifice herself in marriage so that
the dignity and prestige of the Symingtons could be elevated. The
Duke of Aransdale — a cousin to the Queen, several times removed
and notably eccentric — offered for her hand. Instead, she accepted
the suit of Sir David Hargrove, a commoner and a
papist.”

“A papist?” Rae quirked his head. “Ye
mean Catholic? Sae, who isn’t? ‘Tis guid there is but one pope
again. In yer time, too, I assume.”

Julia looked at Rae
strickened.
One pope?
He spoke of the Great Schism, of the time two popes claimed
the chair of St. Peter, one in Rome and one in Avignon.

But Rae knew nothing of the split with the
Church, the Reformation, still a hundred years ahead of his time.
Nor did he know of the many denominations and sects that arose from
it, or the ensuing bloodletting wrought throughout Christendom.

“Let us just say that the Symingtons
belong to a breakaway branch of the Church, the Anglicans,” she
explained simply, not wishing to open the Pandora’s box of Henry
VIII. “The Symingtons blamed my father for my mother’s conversion
and for my being raised in the Faith as well.”

Julia deemed it best to say no more.
She’d made a muddle of things enough as it was. Feeling Rae’s gaze
on her, she lifted her eyes to his.

“Ye dinna speak o’ brothers o’
sisters.”

“I have none.”

“And yer parents?”

Julia blinked back sudden tears. “They
died a year ago, in an accident at sea.”

“Och, Julia, I am sorry for tha’.” He
gathered her near. “I know tha’ misery well.”

Tears welled again, burning Julia’s
eyes, her tight rein on her emotions slipping.

“My parents never regretted their
decision. They loved each other always.”

He hugged her close. “Love should
ne’er be regretted, sweet Julia.”

Their eyes met and
held
.
The pulse at the base
of Julia’s throat began to throb as Rae’s mouth slowly, tenderly,
descended over hers.