Chapter 9

9

D amn the woman’s arrogance! During the time he’d spent with her, Moira had not given any more information than he had when they’d entered the cottage. He let out his breath in an exasperated huff that got her attention. And once more she gifted him with that enigmatic smile she had. He could really see Mairi in that look.

Well, this was getting him nowhere. His short attempt to visit the village had been quashed by Pol and his continued probings into anything Moira knew were met with a wall... and that damned smile.

She kept saying they’d talk about everything when the time was right. God only knew when that would happen. The only concession he’d won was that she showed him where she’d stored his belongings. His clothes, wristwatch, smartphone, pager and wallet were all in one of her trunks in the room she and Pol shared, though neither his digital watch nor his smartphone or page worked. They registered as ‘on’ but there was no signal and no time displayed on them.

Caitlin’s return to the cottage didn’t ease the tension in the room at all. As a matter of fact, it increased it measurably. He found himself holding back and he didn’t know why. Well, certainly her mother standing guard was one reason.

From his seat opposite of Moira at the worktable, he watched as Caitlin put two sacks on the other table and opened one. She pulled out the carcasses of some animals and placed them on the table. She worked quietly and efficiently, collecting the necessary tools and preparing the meat. As if she’d felt his stare, she turned her eyes to his.

The electricity was still there! A jolt of it connected them whenever their gazes met. What was this? How could he ever speak to her calmly with these feelings raging through him? He would have to control this. He swallowed deeply, trying to regain his equilibrium. She blinked and returned to her tasks.

He didn’t want to watch. In spite of his fascination with her, he had no desire to see this food prepared. The last time he’d watched game prepared it was in a spotless kitchen, with the cook’s hands washed before and after butchering the hunter’s bounty. This was too much for his surgeon’s sensibilities. His thoughts must have shown on his face.

“Hiv I offended ye in same way?” Her brow was wrinkled with concern. She really didn’t understand.

“No, Caitlin. My thoughts were elsewhere.” What else could he say? She wasn’t ready to hear about salmonella and disease transmission and he certainly didn’t want to try to explain it to her. If this was the past, he had to be careful not to influence those around him in ways that might change his time.

That sudden realization was like a bucket of icy water. It startled him—that he was beginning to accept this bizarre situation. Could he possibly have passed through time? A part of him believed it already but another part fought not to. It really was too strange to be happening. There was no proof, nothing in his experience or knowledge that said time travel could occur. Never been proven, never been done!

He turned his attention back to the older woman. Moira sat sorting and trimming plants and leaves. Again his confusion must have shown or these women were too damn perceptive for his own good.

“Ye will come to understand what haes happened to ye, Douglas, and the why of it as well.” She paused and that smile returned. “Mayhap ye can teach us some of yer healing ways?”

“Would that be a good idea, Moira? When I return”—he saw Caitlin’s head snap up at his words—”home, you may not wish that things had been changed by me.”

“I amna worried about that. Ye hiv learning that could be of good for the clan,” Moira explained. “And I am interested in anything that will help the Clan MacKendimen.”

“But medicine and healing is not the same in my...” Again, Caitlin’s head came up and her gaze focused on him. And this time he knew it without even looking at her. “In my training, that is. It’s not the same as what you do with these.” Gesturing with his hand, he pointed to the herbs she worked with and those in her pots and jars.

“I am willing to show ye my ways while ye are here.”

“How will we explain it? I don’t remember much about before I woke up in your cottage.” Douglas was trying to get his story straight. Moira had forbidden him to discuss the truth of it with Caitlin. He would leave that for another time and abide by the woman’s rules for now.

“But, ye do remember some of the healing ways?” At his nod, she continued, “Then ye should accompany me, and Caitlin, as we visit the sick and injured of the clan. We will tell the laird and the lady Anice of it on the morrow when we visit them.”

“Mam, yer certain of this?” Caitlin finished putting the meat into the large pot and walked over to the larger table, rubbing her hands on her apron. “Is Douglas truly a healer?”

“I am a doctor and surgeon, by training and experience, Caitlin. Truly.” He waited for her reaction; he wanted to hear the respect in her voice.

“Then why no’ just say so to the clan? Why must he keep it a secret?”

“We willna keep it a secret. We will tell the laird and the lady Anice of his skills but since he kens little of his own past, ’tis best to keep the whole story quiet. Let the laird decide when and who to tell.”

“I see yer point, Mam. The MacKendimens dinna react well to strangers, do they?” The two women shared a laugh and then looked at him.

“So tomorrow you’ll take me to the laird?”

Since he believed he would learn much in that encounter, he looked forward to the meeting. And it would get him out of these close quarters. Having the woman of his dreams this close was beginning to wear on his nerves.

Especially since every time he looked at her, he saw her as she’d looked in the cave dream—naked and welcoming. Water glistening in the light of the torch and sliding down into the most interesting places on her body. He’d always had the urge to dip his head and trace the path of those drops with his tongue. Touching, following, tasting. Down, past her creamy neck and over her smooth shoulders and then even further.

Moira cleared her throat bringing him back to the present. He was certain now that she could read his mind. And those thoughts were certainly not ones that a mother should read. He couldn’t meet her gaze.

“Mayhap, ye could bring in more wood for the fire?”

“Of course. Where is it?” He stood, but not quickly. Thank God for the loose kilt. His body had responded to his thoughts more speedily than he’d believed possible and at least the plaid hanging as it was would hide the erection.

“On the side of the yard,” Moira motioned with her hand and Douglas followed her instructions. She kept him busy with chores the rest of the day.

Like a moonstruck boy, he watched her from outside the doorway where she couldn’t see him. He would have to lure her away to some moment of privacy so they could talk more. Having parents so close the whole day didn’t give him a chance to speak coherently to her. Oh, they’d talked—spoken of the clan and relatives and day-to-day things of importance. But there was so much more he wanted to learn from her, about her.

The night was coming and the darkness spread around him. The temperature dropped rapidly and his idea of a quick wash before dinner quickly lost its appeal. Pulling the end of the plaid around his shoulders, he stood in the quiet and watched her chatter with her mother as they finished preparations for the meal. She moved with the same grace and ease that he’d seen in the dreams. Her smile was generously given and her laugh sent ripples through his soul .

It was difficult to believe she was only eighteen to his thirty years. Everyone here seemed much older than he would have thought. Moira was not even forty, yet she appeared so much older than that. Obviously he was in a different place and time—one that was not so kind to those who lived and survived here.

Her hair was loose now and lay like midnight waves over her shoulders and down her back, reaching her waist with no trouble. He bet that if it were straightened, it would nearly reach the floor. A man could get lost in that hair. His hands clenched with the thoughts of her hair wrapped around them, trapping their faces and bodies close together.

And those eyes! Green, so green that they almost glowed. And when he looked into their depths, he saw flames of emerald and turquoise and sea green. There was a magic there even though she denied being magical.

“Another bucket of water over yer head may help ye.”

Douglas wheeled around to face Pol as he entered the yard. Just great—he stood here in lust for Caitlin and her father saw it all.

“Ye are no’ the first lad to look at her that way, ye ken.”

“I shouldn’t be looking at her that way. Very cold water may help after all.” Pol was obviously a practical man, or he would have used his fists first to answer the insult Douglas had offered, intentionally or not, to his daughter.

“She be a fetching lass, Douglas. I may be her faither but I hiv eyes that see. Many in the clan hiv wanted and still want her to wife.”

He frowned. Why hadn’t she married? If they were being truthful, she would have been married with babies by now. Pol had given him the opening; he would use it.

“And she is not married?” Pol shook his head. “And not engaged. . . betrothed either?” Again a negative shake. “Why not?”

Pol laughed heartily. “Ye hiv met maither and daughter. Do ye think any man would stand a chance if they both decided no’?”

Douglas thought about it for all of a second and joined Pol in his laugh. “No, I guess not.”

“I’ll wash and we can go in for supper. We men should band together when we can.” Pol dropped the sack he was carrying and walked to the well.

After drawing and pouring several buckets of water over his head, they were ready for food. How difficult could dinner be?