The Highlander's Vow (Loch Moigh #4) (22 page)

“Eloped.” Sky smiled warmly at the ruddy-cheeked matron. “’Tis true, Sally.”

Struan came to stand beside her, draping his arm around her shoulders. Sky wrapped her arm around his waist. “This is my husband,” she informed the curious matron, while wishing with all her heart she were speaking the truth. “Struan of clan Sutherland.”

“Och, weel, me and mine wish ye all the best.” Her head bobbed. “That we do.” Sally supervised as the servants made the bath ready, and then she shooed them out the door. “If ye should need aught else, just send word. We’ve a lad who waits in the corridor just for that purpose when we’ve nobles staying at the inn.” She grinned. “Our youngest, he is. Our John likes tae make himself useful. He’s a canny lad. Came up with the idea himself, he did.” She dipped another curtsy before wishing them well again and taking her leave.

“I don’t know what I want more right now—sleep, food or a bath.” Struan scratched at three days of growth on his chin. “And a shave.” He lifted the candle standing in the middle of the table and took it to the fire to light the wick, adding another log to the growing blaze as well.

“Let’s eat. The water will keep well enough by the fire.” Sky pulled out one of the two chairs by the table and poured wine into the goblets.

Struan placed the candleholder back on the table and took a seat. He reached for a slice of bread. “Do you think the Erskines will send word about what happened here to Nairn? They’ll likely claim I murdered Oliver.”

“If the earl of Mar was party to his grandson’s plot against me, then nay. He’ll ken my clan and I will refute anything he might spread about, and the word of a MacKintosh carries far more weight than that of an Erskine.”

“I hope so.” Struan tore into his meal as if he hadn’t eaten in days. “This stew is wonderful, or maybe I’m just that grateful to fill my belly with something hot and easier to chew than jerky.”

“Aye, ’tis one of the reasons my kin frequent this inn. They’ve a very fine cook.”

Clean from her bath, and her hunger satisfied, Sky sat in front of the fire wearing naught but a T-shirt and the panties she’d brought with her. The undergarments she’d washed in the bathwater hung on pegs to dry, and she’d done her best to brush her gown clean. Contentment, along with the prospect of sleeping upon a bed, conspired against her until she could hardly keep her eyes open. She brushed her wet hair, holding it close to the hearth’s heat to dry.

“I love your hair.” Struan lifted her from the chair and sat down with her on his lap. “Have I ever told you that?”

“Nay, you’ve no’ mentioned it.” She leaned back against his chest and inhaled his clean scent.

“And your hazel eyes.” He nibbled her neck. “You have the prettiest eyes I’ve ever beheld.”

“Do I?” She smiled and tilted her head, encouraging him to keep nibbling. If only things could always be thus between them. Mayhap they would have been if she hadn’t insisted upon returning. But then, if she hadn’t, she’d miss her family, and she’d suffer the guilt of not attempting to intervene. Och, no matter what she did or which way she turned, there hadn’t been a way out for her that led to happiness.

“Don’t, princess.” Struan tightened his arms around her. “I can feel you growing tense. Don’t think about anything right now. Let’s just enjoy the moment. We’re warm, fed and clean. Plus, there’s a bed awaiting our pleasure.”

She giggled and twisted around to look at him. “The bed awaits our pleasure, does it?”

“Aye.” Struan took advantage of her position, kissing her tenderly.

“Och, Struan.” She turned and put her arms around his neck. “Do you wonder what life would have been like for us had I stayed in Gordon Hollow?”

Pain and longing radiated from him, and his wonderful mouth turned down. “Nay, I don’t wonder. I know.” His gaze bored into her. “You see, I had it all worked out. The damn portal was not supposed to open. We would’ve gone home, and I would’ve helped you figure out what you wanted to do with your life. Then, in a year of two, we’d marry. I had hoped we’d have a few bairns. I wanted to grow old together.”

That he’d thought all that through, that he wished to marry and have bairns with her . . . Sky’s mind reeled, and an ache spread like spilled wine from her heart to her soul. She swallowed a few times, and her eyes filled. “I . . . I’ve ruined everything.”

He averted his gaze. “You did what you believed you had to do, and I respect and admire you for your loyalty.” He set her off his lap and stood. “What happened to not thinking about anything other than the present?
I
had the forethought to bring a box of condoms with me, and we’ve never made love in the fifteenth century.” He glanced at the bed. “Or on a fifteenth-century fleece mattress for that matter.”

Turning back to her, he grinned and held out his hand. “Come, my lady. If it pleases you, let us give medieval sex a try.”

She couldn’t help it, a burst of laughter bubbled up, and she took his hand. “Aye, milord. Think you ’twill be somehow different?”

“Hmm.” He drew her into his arms and rocked her back and forth while stroking her damp hair. “Let’s find out.”

He made love to her, his touch achingly tender. Sky sensed the desperation and sadness pouring from him, and she echoed the same. When they were both sated and Struan’s breathing deepened with sleep, she lay awake, racking her brain for a better plan that led to her happiness as well as his. Naught came to her.

By the time Sky finished writing her letters, her hand was cramped and aching. She flexed her fingers. “My thanks for your help in copying these, Struan. We’ll want proof of what I wrote should aught happen to the originals,” she said, sealing the last vellum packet with hot wax. “Call for the lad in the corridor, if you would. All that remains is to address this last missive, and all will be ready.” She dipped her quill into the ink again.

“You’re most welcome, though I’m glad mine are the copies we’re keeping. I’m no good at medieval penmanship.” He shook his hand out. “I’m ready for an ale. What say you we head downstairs to put these missives directly into Master Harold’s hands. The messengers will want their coins, aye?”

“What say I?” One side of her mouth quirked up.

“When in Rome.” He shrugged.

She blinked. “What has Rome to do with us?”

“It’s just an expression. ’Tis best I sound as I once did, to blend in.”

“Ah.” Sky stood and surveyed the results of their hours of labor. “A bite to eat, ale, and then we should head to the livery to choose a horse.” She placed her hands at the small of her back and rubbed her spine. “I’ve been sitting for far too long.”

Struan gathered the copies and stowed them in his rucksack. “Come, my lady, let us be about our business. The quicker we’re done, the quicker we can put that fine bed to good use again.”

“Och, do young men think of naught else but bed sport?” She laughed.

Struan opened the door and held out his arm for her to take. “Bed sport? Is that what we’re to call what we do between the blankets, love?”

“What would you prefer I call our endeavors, my lord?” Sky gathered the messages and crossed the room to take his arm.

“Making
love
,” Struan whispered into her ear before catching her earlobe between his teeth for an instant, sending a shiver down her spine. He snatched her cloak from its peg and draped it over his arm. “Come, let us be about our tasks.”

“What do you suppose became of Katherine and Connor?” she asked. “I worry about them. Think you they’re with the baron DúnConnell and their daughter?”

“I hope so, but there’s no way of telling. I warned Connor oft enough about the unpredictability involved in our plans. I don’t like to think it, but the McGladreys could have been sent anywhere and to any time. Perhaps they’re in Ireland.” Struan ushered her into the corridor and closed their chamber door behind them.

“My lady, my lord.” A lad of about six or seven shot up from where he sat against the wall and gave them a slight bow. “If ye be needin’ aught, I can fetch it for ye.”

“Our thanks, lad, but we’ll manage for now.” Struan nodded. “Watch the door for us, if you would, and there’ll be a coin in it for you when we return.”

The lad straightened and puffed out his chest. “Aye, milord.”

“This inn has an excellent reputation,” Sky told him under her breath. “Our things are safe enough.”

“For certes, but this will give the lad a task to do. Did you no’ notice he’s lame? He has a club foot.”

Sky glanced back over her shoulder. The lad now sat with his back against their door, a serious expression on his young face. “I took no notice.” Her heart swelled at Struan’s thoughtfulness. Her knight was a good man, honorable and compassionate. Any woman would be fortunate indeed to be his wife. If only . . .

She bit her lip and choked back the tears. He’d seen to her safety and fought to protect her, even though he had no wish to be here in the past. The least she could do was to see that he returned safely to the future. Once home, she would take up her role as a healer to her clan. Somehow, the prospect didn’t fill her with the sense of purpose it once did.

“Master Harold,” Struan said, beckoning to the innkeeper. “We’ve several missives to send. Will you arrange for their post?” He took silver coins from the leather pouch he wore at his belt and handed them to the innkeeper. “Tell the riders we prefer they not take the main roads.”

“Aye, milord. I’ll see to it anon.” Harold wiped his hands on a cloth slung over his shoulder before taking the coins and the letters. “Will ye be wanting yer midday meal in the hall, or shall I have it brought up to yer room?”

“Here would be fine.” Struan took her elbow as he surveyed the great room packed tight with customers sitting at heavy wooden tables and benches. The place reeked with the stench of too many bodies pressed together in one space, along with the smell of stale beer, smoke from the hearth and whatever cooked in the kitchen.

“Take the table nearest the window. The air is fresher there, and it’s just been cleared.” Harold gestured. “I’ll have food brought out to ye.”

“And ale, if you would,” Struan added.

“Aye, milord.” Harold strode away, shouting orders as he went, sending two lads scurrying to do his bidding.

Sky took her place at the table, with Struan across from her. “We should leave on the morrow.”

“Aye. Let’s hope the livery master has a suitable horse for us. How long is the journey to Meikle Geddes from here?”

“A day’s ride south, mayhap a day and a half, depending upon the weather or what we may encounter.”

One of Harold’s daughters came to the table, bearing a platter of bread, cheese and plump sausages. She also held two mugs of ale by the handles. She set the ales down before placing the platter at the center of the table. “Good day to ye, Lady Sky. ’Tis grand tae see ye again.”

“And you, Moira. Last I heard, you and your good man had just had your first bairn. How is the lad?” Sky smiled at the young woman.

“Och, he’s growing fast, and we’ve a wee lass now as well. They’re with their granny whilst I help ma and da with the midday crowd. There’s a passenger ship just come into port, so we’re busier than usual.” She shot Struan a curious look. “Enjoy yer meal, and if ye wish for aught else, I’ll be about. Just wave.” She curtsied and moved on to clear a nearby table.

Sky took a sausage and a piece of the thick brown bread and put them together. “Meikle Geddes is where my cousin Robley and his wife Erin live. I told you about them.” She glanced at him. “Do you recall?”

“Umm-mm.” He nodded, his mouth full. He chewed, swallowed and drank deep from his tankard. “Ahh, I have missed the ale from this era. There’s nothing like it in the twenty-first century.”

Sky laughed, and a rare burst of happiness warmed her. Despite his occasional bouts of angry brooding, Struan had a pleasant disposition and a quick wit. “You’re an easy man to be with, Struan. You’ve a very pleasing nature.”

“Aye, and I’m chivalrous.” He sent her a pointed look.

“Chivalrous indeed.”

“And let us no’ forget my skill upon a medieval mattress.” He winked and waggled his brow. “I’m most excellent at bed sport, aye?”

His boyish expression and twinkling eyes had her laughing again. “Och, Struan, if only . . .”