but didn’t see the lass from the future. He climbed the circular stone stairs before coming to his floor and heading for his quarters. The castle was cold all year round and he hoped the servants had the fire well-stoked in his room. Movement at the end of the corridor caught his eye and he walked past his door, coming to the end of the passage that split in two different directions. He spotted Abigail standing at the narrow window overlooking the waters of the Isle of Skye.
He frowned at the sadness he read on her features. It was a sadness he could well understand; to be torn away from the only home he knew would be a veritable torture. His home, and Scotland in general, was a place deeply engrained in his soul and he’d be loath to part from it. In fact, he couldn’t imagine living anywhere but Scotland. The country flowed as much in his veins as his blood.
Abigail slumped against the wall, sliding down until she was sitting, all the while oblivious to his presence. Silent tears ran down her cheeks and she swiped at them, as if annoyed by their presence.
Aedan backed away and went to his room. He doubted she needed to hear him telling her she’d soon be home and no harm done. There was a slight chance his sister wouldn’t be able to send her back. Magic could be as fickle as the Highland weather.
Och, he hoped this wasn’t so. The last thing he needed was a homesick lass with a temper as hot as his own. The games that were due to start next week were supposed to be peaceful, if not competitive. To have a woman skulking about wasn’t what he had in mind.
His room was warm, the fire well-stoked, and he set the basin of water before the hearth and proceeded to undress for his wash. He was worrying for nothing. His sister was intelligent. She wouldn’t let him down, and Abigail would be sent home safely.
Everything would turn out well.
Chapter 6
Abby stood beside doors that led out onto a courtyard. A thick stone wall ran the length of the grounds, and from where she stood it looked as if the sea itself flowed right up to it. An illusion of course, for the castle sat a fair distance away from the sea.
She slumped against the building, the cold stone at her back chilling her as much as the arctic wind that whistled through the yard.
This era was hard. Everything about it was coarse, dirty, and too different to comprehend. She shivered into a cloak her chamber servant had given her and watched a couple of kitchen servants weed a vegetable garden, their hands muddy, their clothing less than ideal for these weather conditions. Ski gear would be ideal…
Abby frowned. Above all else, the stench was the worst. Not everyone here was able to bathe, and the body odor coming off some of the populace was enough to make her gag. The animals, unfortunately, were penned close to the castle, and pigs, even if kept well, stank to high heaven. It was only at times like these, when the wind from the ocean hit her before anything else, that Abby could breathe the salty, un-stinking air. What she wouldn’t do to be back in the twenty-first century, warm in her modest apartment that smelled of clean linen, soap, and perfume. She didn’t have a lot and was far from wealthy, but at least she had heat, hot water, and coffee.
She swallowed, refusing to cry anymore. She needed to be strong. Gwen had promised she’d return her home as soon as she could. She would have to believe in that. Trust the woman and her brother, who seemed only too eager to be rid of her.
“Abigail? May I speak with ye?”
She didn’t bother to face Gwen as the woman came to stand beside her, instead she fought to control her emotions. She supposed the laird’s sister would speak to her whether she wanted her to or not. “What do you want?”
“I’m going to be helping some of the village ladies prepare the needlework they’ll sell throughout the games. Would ye care to help me?”
“What games?” she asked, having not heard of them.
“Castle Druiminn will host the Highland Games this year. My brother will compete and should the stars align, choose a wife.”
Abby fought not to roll her eyes. From the small tidbits of history she’d read about the Highland Games,