He heard a light footfall behind him and turned to see Jane in the doorway. The sight was so arresting, he had to turn fully to better appreciate it.
She was wearing jeans and a black sweater—he reminded himself to do something about the latter as quickly as he could—and her hair was flowing freely about her shoulders. He wasn’t sure what had happened to her since arriving at the castle the day before, but it had been a happy transformation. Perhaps she would never possess the kind of beauty that caused a man to stop in his tricks and gape. Hers was a loveliness of a rarer kind, one that only showed itself upon closer examination. Ian had had the luxury of closer examination over the past se’nnight and he suspected he saw what others might miss. And today, not only was she lovely, but she looked perfectly content, as if she had found the peace she’d been seeking. Unbidden, the vision of her sharing hearth and home with him came to him.
By the saints, this was not what he’d expected to find so soon.
Was it too soon? Was it just the shock of the past se’nnight? Should he wait to see what other souls he might encounter?
Then she smiled.
And he thought he just might be lost.
“You have beautiful mornings here,” she said.
“Oh, aye,” he managed, jamming his hands into the pockets of jeans before they did something foolish, like grab her and never release her. He cleared his throat. “Would you care for a ride?”
“In the car?”
He smiled. “On a horse, actually. I understand Jamie’s mount is going to fat in the stables from lack of activity. We could filch something from the kitchens and roam for the day.”
“Sounds heavenly.”
“If I see to the horse, will you forage for food? I fear I don’t recognize most of what’s available.”
“Neither do I,” she said with a laugh. “Zachary’s diet isn’t exactly stellar, but I’ll see what I can do.”
Ian nodded, smiled, then turned away and whistled as he headed toward the stables. He had the feeling it might turn out to be quite a wonderful day indeed.
NOT TWO HOURS had passed that he wasn’t congratulating himself on being such a successful seer. Astronaut, Jamie’s horse, was as well behaved as he had been the last time Ian had borrowed him for a quick getaway. The weather was perfect, sunny with a bit of a chill wind from the north. The food was actually better than he had hoped.
’Twas the company, however, that gave him the most pleasure. Who would have thought that showing a woman from the Future all the places he had roamed in his youth and fought in the years of his early manhood would have given him such pleasure and puffed his chest out so far?
They spent the middle of the day at the flat top of Jamie’s meadow, looking down over the castle and the forests flanking it. Ian told Jane of battles won, cattle lifted, enemies routed and sent home in shame. It was passing odd to see places he’d tramped over in his youth and realize how many years had passed since then. The landscape had changed, but not so much that he couldn’t recognize his favorite retreats.
Then he rolled over onto his belly and watched Jane as she told him of her dreams. He’d expected to hear of grand schemes to see her designs made all over the world. Surely she had a gift for it.
But she told him instead of her wish for a little cottage on the side of a hill and a spinning wheel by the hearth. He watched a faraway look come into her eye when she spoke of the colors she would use and the objects she would make with her hands.
It was then he began to wonder if Fate hadn’t had a hand in his delivery to the Future. Surely he could provide her with her wishes. They were modest things surely, but he had the feeling that in her hands, they would be grand things indeed.
Once she was finished, he looked down the way and saw a place where such a thing could be built perfectly.
“Care you for that spot over there?” he asked casually, pointing to a little clearing above the western forest. The remains of a crofter’s hut sat on the face of the land in the place he gestured to. It wouldn’t make much of a house, but it could be used to build something else.
He looked at her from under his eyelashes as she contemplated the location. He didn’t want to assume too much, but he could have sworn he saw a bit of longing sweep over her face.
“It’s very beautiful,” she said softly.
“Is it?” he mused. “Aye, ’tis pleasing enough, but yours is the beauty that holds my gaze.”
She looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. Then she looked away, apparently dismissing his words.
“I’m in earnest,” he insisted.
“No models around for competition,” she said lightly.
Ian shuddered. “I care not for that kind of beauty. Rather, give me a woman whose loveliness runs true to her bones.”
“Hmmm,” she said, but she looked unconvinced.
So it would take him a while to persuade her. Fortunate he was then, to have the rest of the Future in which to do it.
He reached for her hand. “Stay here in Scotland for a bit,” he said. Stay forever, he added silently, realizing as he thought it that it was indeed something he wanted very much.
She looked at him, then looked around her. It took no great powers to divine that she wanted to remain.
“Well,” she said slowly, “the scenery is beautiful.”
He smiled. “Thank you,” he said modestly.
She laughed. “I suppose you are part of the package.” She paused and sighed. “Well, my rent is paid up through next month. I guess I could get Miss Witherspoon to send my check here. Do we have an address to send it besides ‘Jamie’s castle’?”
“I’m sure Zachary will know.”
She paused again. “Will your cousin mind if I stay?”
“ ’Tis as much my home as his,” Ian said.
“Really?”
“ ’Tis our family home. One more addition, and such a fetching one at that, will not trouble him.”
That earned him a bit of a blush from her and he was relieved to see that she wasn’t entirely immune to his charms.
“All right,” she conceded.
“Good,” Ian said. He stretched out on the blanket and held open his arms. “I’m in need of a small rest after all that sentiment. Will you join me?”
She did. Ian closed his eyes, wrapped his arm around Jane Fergusson, and felt more at peace than he had the whole of his previous life.
He fell asleep with the sun shining down on his face.
JANE AWOKE, CHILLED. Obviously the sun had just gone behind a cloud because she found herself in shadows.
Then she realized it was only a single shadow and it came from a man looming over them. She sat up with a shriek.
And then everything happened too fast for her to do anything. Before she’d finished with her shriek, she found herself behind Ian, who was now on his feet with his sword drawn. There was, she decided, something to be said for having a medieval clansman as a boyfriend.
Boyfriend? She shook her head, deciding to give that more thought later. Now her time was probably better used wondering if she was going to die in the next three minutes.
Well, no blood was being spilt, so Jane took a good look at their attacker so she’d know who to finger in the lineup.
He was tall, perhaps even a bit taller than Ian, and definitely broader. She had to give Ian the benefit of the doubt, given what he’d been through in the past couple of months, but the guy facing him was in very good shape. He had dark hair, a commandingly noble face, and the most piercing pair of green eyes she had ever seen. These she noticed only because he had turned a bit to face Ian more squarely and the sun was shining down on him. And it was as she saw him fully illuminated that she realized what seemed wrong with the picture.
He was dressed—and she could only surmise this to be the case—in full pirate gear. His black boots gleamed. A long saber hung down alongside a leg that, along with the other leg, wore black-as-sin pants that poofed a little as they tucked th
emselves into the boots. A snowy white shirt, along with a red bandanna draped around his head in true pirate fashion, completed the picture. The only thing that seemed out of place were all the ruffles on his shirt, ruffles completely incongruous with the man’s formidable frown.
And it was then that she thought Ian just might get them both shot with the gun the other man was toting so casually on his hip.
Ian reached out with his sword and flicked up a bit of lace.
“Lace?” he drawled. “Have you enough of it, or might there yet be a scrap of your shirt that isn’t adorned with it?”
“Ian,” Jane whispered fiercely, “shut up!”
The other man only folded his arms over his chest and frowned. “’Tis pirate clothing, you fool.”
“You look like a woman.”
“But I still fight like a man. Would you care to test it?”
Then Ian, to Jane’s consternation, tossed aside his sword. Well, if he was going to be that stupid, she would have to make up for it. She hauled herself to her feet and made a grab for the blade. It wasn’t as heavy as she feared, but it wasn’t exactly a pair of pinking shears, either. She managed to get it and herself upright only to find that instead of killing each other, the two men were exchanging a gruff embrace complemented by a great deal of hefty backslapping. It went on for a few minutes, then suddenly the two pulled apart and began to punch each other in the arms and pummel each other on the chest.
Jane rolled her eyes. Men.
“Ian, you randy whoreson!”
“Jamie, you bejeweled peacock!”
Jane let the point of the blade slip down. Jamie? This, then, was Ian’s cousin? Dressed like a pirate, no less. She wondered if it was too late to hop in the car and drive off. She was beginning to have serious doubts about the rest of Ian’s family and their taste in clothes.
Jamie pulled away and grinned. “Took you long enough to get out of the Fergusson’s dungeon.”
Ian gave him a healthy shove. “I wouldn’t have found myself in his dungeon if it hadn’t been for your wagging tongue.”
Jamie rubbed his hands together gleefully. “Ah, but what a tale it had been to tell. How could I have resisted?”
“You could have clamped your lips together and remained silent, that’s what!”
Jane found herself suddenly being scrutinized and she suppressed the urge to check to see if her clothes were on straight. After all, it wasn’t as if she and Ian had been doing anything besides sleeping. Jamie made her a low bow.
“James MacLeod, your servant,” he said. “If I might have the pleasure of your name, mistress?”
“Jane F—”
“She’s from New York,” Ian interrupted. “A very fine designer of bridal wear.”
Jamie slapped Ian on the back again. “You didn’t waste any time finding yourself a woman, cousin.” Jamie winked at Jane. “Never lacked for a handsome wench did this one.”
Jane found herself with the distinct urge to use Ian’s sword. On Ian. Apparently Ian could see what she was thinking because he flinched visibly, then turned and gave his cousin another healthy shove.
“I’ve mended my ways.”
“When hell freezes over!” Jamie laughed.
“It fair did to get me here and I tell you, I’ve changed.”
“A last-minute bargain with Saint Peter?” Jamie asked in a conspiratorial whisper. “I can only imagine how the discourse proceeded. You always did have an excess of fair speech frothing from your head.”
“The difference between you and me is,” Ian said tightly, “that I know when to cease babbling and you do not!”
“I never babble.”
“You do! That’s what landed me in the Fergusson’s dungeon, you babbling fool!”
“Fergusson?” Jane echoed. “What’s this?”
“William Fergusson,” Jamie said, scowling at Ian. “Our bitterest enemy. Ian helped himself to Roberta’s—”
“Never mind what I helped myself to,” Ian interrupted. He looked at Jane. “ ’Tis in the past.”
“But, Ian,” she said slowly. “I’m a—”
“It matters not.”
Jane found herself under Jamie’s scrutiny again. She put her shoulders back. “My last name is Fergusson. I’m probably related to that William.”
“And you’ve more than made up for William’s lack of hospitality,” Ian said, taking his sword away from her.
“Ian, I don’t know...” Jamie began.
“Aye, generally you don’t,” Ian said, then he firmly planted his fist in Jamie’s face. “That’s for the last time you babbled without thinking. Try not to do it again this time and foul up my future.”
Jane would have checked to see if Jamie planned to get up off the ground from where he’d been knocked, but she found that she was being dragged by the hand down the meadow toward the castle. She had to run to keep up with Ian’s furious strides.
“Hey, slow down,” she panted.
Ian sighed and stopped. Then he stared off into the distance for several minutes while she caught her breath and he apparently worked every tangle possible out of his hair. At least that’s what she thought he was doing, dragging his hands through it that way. Then he cleared his throat.
“I should likely tell you,” he said, looking down, “of why I found myself in that dungeon.”
She shook her head. “I’m getting pieces of it, and I don’t know that I want to know any more.”
“Jamie will tell you if I do not.” He sighed again and looked heavenward. “I robbed a woman of her virtue.”
Jane felt a chill come over her. “Forcefully?”
Ian looked so shocked, she immediately relaxed. “Saints, nay,” he said, with feeling. “I did it cheerfully, for it made her father’s life very difficult, but I wouldn’t have done it had she not been willing.” He smiled a little smile. “Willing is perhaps not a strong enough word. She knew who she stood to wed with and I daresay she considered me a more pleasant prospect for her deflowering.”
“Was she very beautiful?” Jane asked wistfully.
Ian laughed. “Saints, nay. She was passing unpleasant, both of face and humor. And she threatened to unman me should I not do my work well.”
“I take it you did your work well.”
“Well enough,” he said briskly. He looked very uncomfortable all of a sudden. “Now, must we discuss this further?”
She shrugged. “You brought it up.”
“Aye, well, I did and I’m sorry for it. I daresay you don’t want the details.”
“Don’t I?”
“You do not.”
“Why not?”
“Because you and I . . . well . . .”
“Yes?”
“You and . . . er . . . I . . .”
From out of the blue an unexpected warmth began in her heart. Jane had the most ridiculous idea creep up on her that Ian might actually be talking about her and him. Together. As a . . . well . . . couple. She found herself beginning to smile. “Yes?”
He frowned at her. “The past is dead and buried—”
“Yeah, I’ll say it is. About seven hundred years buried.”
“—and I’d prefer it stay that way,” he finished with a darker frown. “I’ve mended my ways, though Jamie will likely never let me forget them. One does not discuss his past lovers with his future ... er ...”
“Yes?” She could hardly believe she was indulging in this word game, because she could hardly believe he might truly be interested in her, but there was that warmth in her heart. And he was definitely frowning. That could mean any number of things, but still ...
Ian looked at her with narrowed eyes, then took her by the hand and pulled her along behind him to the castle. “I’m finished with this discourse.”
“I’ll just bet you are,” she said, but she was very tempted to smile. His future what? Could he have been prepared to use the word friend? Bride would have been the expression she would have chosen, but it was still early
yet. Maybe she would spend a few more days with Ian and decide that she really didn’t like him. Maybe she would decide that Scotland wasn’t really the place for her and she would scurry back to New York and throw herself on Miss Witherspoon’s mercy.
Or maybe she would take Ian up on his offer and stay in Scotland for a little while. Who knew what might happen if she did?
Chapter Eight
Two WEEKS LATER, Jane found herself sitting on a bench with her back against the castle wall waiting for Ian and Jamie to indulge in a little swordplay.
“And he clouted me in the nose!” Jamie was saying to his wife Elizabeth as they came onto the field. “Just reared back as casually as you please and took his fist to my sweet visage!”
Elizabeth only sighed lightly. “Yes, Jamie, we’ve heard all about it for the past two weeks. Go use Ian up in the lists to soothe yourself.”
“Never should have named my bairn after him,” Jamie grumbled, as he kissed his wife and walked away. “What possessed me to do the like?”
Jane had watched Ian’s face when he’d first been introduced to his little cousin Ian, and watched the emotions that had crossed that face when he realized how he’d been honored. It had resulted in more backslapping with Jamie, but no apology for the condition of Jamie’s nose. Jane suspected Ian was still suffering from very vivid memories of his time in the Fergusson’s dungeon.
That she had begun to accept the time-travel story as fact had ceased to surprise her. Maybe it was the Scottish air. Maybe it was the countless walks and rides she’d been on with Ian where he spoke so easily of events in the past. It also could have been watching Jamie and Elizabeth together and hearing them talk so easily of events that they claimed had happened hundreds of years ago.
Or maybe it was just watching Ian, who was no slouch in the sword department, practice against the supposed former laird of the clan MacLeod, who was even less of a slouch when it came to swordplay.
“Ian’s still getting his strength back.”