The Inscription (12 page)

Before Amber could answer that she hadn’t a clue how to perform the complicated steps, or any dance steps for that matter, Elaenor had pulled her into the midst of the group. The music stopped as the fiddler accepted a tankard of ale. He handed it back as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. The lull afforded Amber sufficient time for panic to set in.

“Elaenor, I can’t do this.”

Elaenor looked distracted. “Did you say something?” Amber wondered if it would do any good to tell her she hadn’t the faintest idea what she was doing and decided, probably not.

The fiddler began a new tune, more lively than the last. The notes seemed to fly through the air, infusing new energy into the dancers. Many more joined in and several people in the crowd began to sing. Amber caught a few of the lines. Something about a man and a woman. Was there ever any other kind of song? On the perimeter of the group she saw Lachlan staring at her.

He smiled and she felt the heat rise on her face. Terrific. Last night, when she felt in control and beautiful, he hadn’t said a word. In the light of day, when she couldn’t keep her eyes off him, he’d decided to stay. Good thing the music was loud, it would drown out the thundering beat of her heart.

It was time to escape. She turned to Elaenor. “I never learned how to dance. I think I’ll sit this one out.” The remark was sort of true. She’d never been taught any medieval Scottish folk dances in physical education class, or anywhere else for that matter.

“I shall teach you.”

She was trapped. Elaenor was determined to have a good time.

Elaenor reached out to her. “Hold my hand, and the hand of the person next to you.”

Amber did as she was told. “Now what?”

“The women will dance in one direction, while the men form a circle on the inside and dance the opposite way.”

No sooner were the words out of Elaenor’s mouth than the women started to move. Amber looked down at Elaenor’s feet and tried to mimic the dance. They kept on the balls of their feet. Step behind, step in front, step and stamp, stamp. The movements were not as difficult as Amber had first thought and soon the steps became automatic.

She felt the exhilaration that always came to her when she exercised. Tension melted away as the dancers matched the tempo of their steps to the fiddler’s music.

A loud yell brought the men into the center of the circle. They were greeted with an answering shout from the women. Lachlan was among the men. His expression was unreadable as he kept in step with the other male dancers. Closer and closer he came, until he brushed against her shoulder, circled, and then faced her again. He looked at her and smiled.

She missed a step in her confusion. ‘“What a mess.”

The deep sound of his laughter seemed to vibrate through her. He placed his hand on her waist and she could feel the warmth of his touch.

The tempo of the music increased. Each note blended into another. The townspeople swirled around her in a blur of smiling faces. She watched the world spin past as she held onto Lachlan’s arms, feeling the strength of his muscles beneath her fingers. He drew her closer. Her heart beat a little faster. She shouldn’t feel such a strong attraction to him. He was too tall, and his eyes were too blue.

The sound of a second fiddle joined the first, its notes clear and quick. Lachlan’s hand was on die small of her back, and he was bending toward her. Had they stopped dancing? She couldn’t tell. He leaned down and kissed her lightly on the lips. His touch was warm and his voice a whisper.

“You should always wear the color red.”

“Last night…”

He traced the line of her chin with his thumb. “I dared not stay. I find that it is hard to breathe when I am near you. But, away from you, I lose the reason to breathe.”

Amber walked along the River Ness, watching the sun glisten over the water. The music and the dance she’d shared with Lachlan were only a memory. The walk would help dear her head. Angus had pulled Lachlan away from her to continue their game. She looked over her shoulder. He was shoving past an opponent for control of the ball, but paused long enough to wave to her. The gesture almost cost him the advantage he’d gained. She smiled to herself.

Angus, whether he knew it or not, had saved the day. A few more minutes in Lachlan’s arms and she would have been melted butter. He wanted her and she wanted him. And if the two of them slept together, what would happen next? In the twentieth century the scenario was simple. It broke down into five words; meeting, dating, lust, friendship and commitment. Of course, it didn’t always happen in that order, and the last two were tricky, but she’d always felt it was important to know the stages. In the Middle Ages she had a feeling there might be a few more rules. And then there was always her aunt’s explanation of love. She’d said that a person just knew when it was going to work. It was not necessary to examine the pros and cons, or list the number of things you had in common. But her aunt was an incurable romantic.

A flock of birds flew overhead in a slow, relaxed flight. She headed in the direction of a line of thatched-roof houses that overlooked the River Ness. The homes were in the same general location as Aunt Dora’s bed-and-breakfast inn. Her aunt had told her that their ancestors dated back to this time period, and had lived along the water. Of course, her aunt’s people were fishermen and weavers. She smiled, wondering if in one of these houses there was a MacPhee. It might be fun to see if there was any family resemblance. But it would have to wait until after the festival, because the present homes looked deserted. Amber saw a small fenced area where a half-dozen cattle grazed aimlessly. In front of one of the houses hung fish on wooden spits above an open fire.

The seamstress, Grizel, carrying a basket under her arm, hurried into one of the homes. She seemed to be the only person around. There was an unnatural stillness in the air.

A scream pierced the quiet. It emanated from the house she’d seen Grizel enter only moments before. Amber froze. She wiped her palms against her dress and looked back in the direction of the festival. The sound of the woman’s screams had not reached that far, but had been muffled by the celebrations. She should go for help. Amber heard the cry again. It tore through her. She took a deep breath. It sounded as if someone was dying or being killed. That did it. She must stop thinking and find out what was wrong. She picked up her skirts and ran toward the house.

She pulled open the door and peered inside the cottage. The shutters were closed tightly against the sun and fresh air. A single candle flickered on a table beside a bed where a pregnant woman lay moaning. Amber pulled back. There was no doubt it was Molly, the young woman she’d met on her first day at the castle. Beside her knelt Grizel. Tears stained the old woman’s face. She looked up at Amber and brushed away the tears with the back of her hand. “And what be your concern in this place?” Amber averted her gaze from the bed. The old woman was giving her an excuse to run. This was none of her business. She backed toward the door and felt the wood against her spine. More than a year ago, one of her students had tearfully confessed to being pregnant. Amber had convinced herself that she should not become involved with other people’s problems.

Grizel was the same woman Lachlan had saved from a witch’s fiery death. He could have gone along his way, confident that he’d done a good deed, and left the survivors to fend for themselves. But he hadn’t The sixteenth century was supposed to be barbaric in comparison to her own time, yet Lachlan practiced a level of caring that she had only bragged she possessed.

She swallowed. When her student had told her about the pregnancy, Amber had rationalized that she was a teacher, not a counselor. She hadn’t wanted to get involved with their lives, or know what happened to them once they’d left her classroom. But all the girl had asked her to do was come along with her to the abortion clinic. She couldn’t even remember the student’s name. Amber stepped away from the door. “I heard a woman scream, and thought I could help.”

“This be Molly Grant.” Grizel made a quick movement of her head toward the pregnant woman. “Help be welcome this day.”

Amber’s smile quivered. “We’ve met.”

Having a baby in this century was life-threatening for both mother and child. There were bound to be complications. Amber’s total experience concerning the mysteries of childbirth came from books and an eighth grade video entitled,
How a Baby is Born
. Every girl in her class had vowed never to have a child after watching that tape. She hoped the midwife was good at giving directions.

“I’ll do what I can.”

Grizel reached for a goblet on a nearby table. She held it toward her. “Can you not smell the stench through the sweet wine?”

Amber repressed a shudder. “That’s awful. What is it?”

Grizel shook her head and looked at the liquid. “Savory, ground with pennyroyal, and the scent of something I cannot identify. Molly has tried to rid herself of the babe.”

The walls in the small, one-room house seemed to dose in on Amber. She took a deep breath of the warm stale air and gagged. She was in over her head.

Molly screamed and clutched at the coverlet.

The old woman set the goblet down and reached for a doth in a basin of water. She gently sponged the girl’s damp forehead. “There is much to do, and little time.”

Amber forced herself to walk over to the bed. Molly’s eyes were clouded with pain. Amber knelt beside the midwife.

Molly raised herself on one arm and reached for Amber. The young woman’s fingers tightened around her hand.

“Bartholomew isn’t who he claims to be.” Her eyes closed as, briefly, a spasm shuddered through her. “I followed him through the castle’s underground tunnels. He was angry with me. I told him I wouldn’t tell. How could I? I love him.”

The midwife smoothed the young woman’s damp hair away from her face as lovingly as if Molly had been a small child.

Grizel nodded. “The devil’s own tempted this one. I knew the father of her child would not take her with him, but until this moment I knew not his name.” She turned to Amber. “Please, stay with Molly. There is a matter that needs tending. I shall see that my daughter is here with you, until I return. Although blind, she is a skilled midwife.”

The old woman stood. “Not many would offer to help on the day of a festival.”

She opened the door and departed, leaving Amber alone with Molly in the small cottage. Amber’s hand trembled as she took the linen towel and wiped the girl’s neck and face.

“Everything will be all right. It has to be.”

Shouts rang over the field by the River Ness in the fading light. Soon it would be too dark to play the game. Lachlan watched as Angus shouldered his way into the center of a group fighting for control of the ball. His friend, who was playing for the opposing team, burst from the circle of men and kicked the ball free from his attackers. It headed toward a goal line marked with a flag bearing the MacAlpin colors, and went in. The score was now even. He smiled. It was a welcome change to hear laughter on a field instead of the screams of battle.

Lachlan reached for the wooden bucket and took a long drink of the cool water before pouring it over himself. The teams this day were evenly matched. Only a few broken bones that would be in need of tending. Lachlan nodded to Gavin and handed him the bucket. “Angus has played well.”

Gavin set the empty bucket down beside him. “You would be the one to catch him.”

“Aye, the same thought came to my mind.”

“Why do you and Angus not share the same team? You could win easily.”

“There is no pleasure in a game, if it be readily won.” Lachlan looked into the crowd of townspeople lingering around the booths and traveling minstrels. “When last did you see Amber?”

Gavin turned the bucket over and sat on the upturned end. “She told us we could watch you and Angus. Was I supposed to stay near her?”

Lachlan shook his head. “Nay, Gavin. Perhaps she has gone back to the inn.”

A man and a woman were arguing in a grove of trees nearby. Although their words were not dear, the anger and frustration rang out. As he watched, the woman turned her back on the man and folded her arms across her chest. There was a smile of satisfaction on her face as the man pleaded with her. Lachlan remembered the dance he shared with Amber. She was strong-willed and intelligent, of that there was little double. But he believed she would never play a man for the fool as did the woman in the grove. If Amber wanted something, she would ask.

Someone touched his arm and he turned. It was Grizel.

She motioned for Gavin to leave. Lachlan could read the urgency in her eyes. The old woman would only seek him out on matters of importance. He knew that Gavin would not budge until given an order from him. Lachlan sensed he should set a task for the boy, lest he feel dismissed because of his youth. He put his hand on his brother’s shoulder.

“Grizel seeks a word with me and it comes to mind that I have not seen MacDougal in some time. Make sure that the beast has not eaten all the pies in its reach. It is important the dog does not make the townspeople sorry we attended their festival. If there are damages, assure them that the MacAlpins will make it right.”

Gavin puffed out his chest. “No one will regret our being here. I shall see to it.” The boy ran toward the brightly-colored booths.

Grizel stuffed a strand of hair back in her cap. “You have a way with the lad. If he grows to be a man worthy of your man colors, you alone will be responsible.”

Lachlan folded his arms across his chest and waited. Grizel would come to the reason she was here in her own time.

Tears glistened in her eyes. “Molly’s time has come.”

“The child is early.”

Grizel nodded. “Aye, true enough.”

“How will she fare?”

The midwife shook her head.

He heard the sound of men cheering and knew the game was at an end. A celebration would fill the taverns this night, while Molly and her child’s life lay in the balance. The sights and sounds of the festival dulled before him. “Was an accident the cause to bring about the early birth?”

“No accident. ‘Twas learning that her man would neither wed her, nor take her with him, that drove her to it.”

“Speak not around the truth. What is the cause?”

Grizel wiped the tears from her face with the back of her hand. “Molly tried to rid herself of the child.”

“The Church forbids killing of an unborn babe.”

“That may be the truth of it, but the knowledge is still used when need be.”

He had heard of such things in his travels. Whispered secrets that were not meant for a man to hear. These matters involved women and were not his concern. But to end a life? The notion troubled him.

“Were you the one who gave her such knowledge?”

Her voice lowered. “You know me, Lord. I bring life into the world, not take it away. ‘Twas a mixture of savory and pennyroyal cloaked in a red wine that was the cause. A dangerous concoction for a woman so far along with child. I’ve seen many a birth. Such a mistake usually means the woman’s death. I know not where Molly got the brew.”

Lachlan looked away from the midwife’s tear-stained face toward Angus and the men on the field. They were headed toward the center of town. He could join them and be welcome, but in truth all desire had fled when he had learned of Molly’s condition.

It was for the sake of her child, Bartholomew had been given a second chance. Lachlan had found a small cottage where the family could begin their life together. When last he saw Molly, she was making preparations for her marriage. It was for her, and for her unborn child, that Lachlan had swallowed his anger toward the man. He felt it rise with renewed strength to the surface and turned to Grizel.

“I shall bring Bartholomew back. Comfort Molly that she will have a father for her bairn if the child survives, and a husband, regardless the outcome.”

Grizel shrugged. “She has little chance of surviving the night. But the news that the wretch she loves will be coming back may give her the hope she needs to ding to life. I have left Molly with the Lady Amber. Your betrothed is inexperienced, but has a good heart.” Grizel nodded before turning down die path and heading toward a cluster of white-washed houses.

Lachlan gazed at the dear blue sky. Someone was in need and Amber had flown to the rescue like an eagle protecting her nest. The last time he had seen Amber she was surrounded by Gavin and his friends. Instead of enjoying the festival, she had put that aside to help another. Lachlan gathered his clothes and headed to the inn where his horse was stabled. He made a vow to bring Bartholomew to Molly.

Lachlan guided his horse, Rowan, through a highland mist that rolled over the gentle sloping hills. A family traveling to the festival had provided the necessary information. They said they had seen a man of Bartholomew’s description heading in this direction. He pulled on the reins and Rowan slowed to a standstill. Cloud cover blocked out the night sky. The farther he had traveled from Inverness, the more severe the weather had become.

Lachlan dismounted and led the animal toward where he suspected Bartholomew’s camp to be. He had always prided himself on his judgment of character. But with Bartholomew he had listened to the words, not looked into the man’s eyes for the truth. The tutor had vowed, falsely of course, that he would take Molly to wife. Now, it was necessary to force the marriage.

Rowan tossed his head and whinnied. Lachlan heard the answering sound of another horse drift toward him, and stroked the coarse hair on Rowan’s neck to quiet him.

“If that be Bartholomew’s mare, a ceremony will yet take place before the babe is born.”

The mist thinned as he reached the crest of a hill and saw a horse grazing. Smoke curled from a fire. Illuminated in the meager light were two men.

Lachlan tied the reins around the trunk of an alder. What were these men doing on this land, made his in battle? Had they come for the festival, or had they another purpose in mind?