Chapter Nine

The castle was beautiful. Janet simply couldn't get over how gorgeous it was, a mythical looking place that was probably no more than a shell of a relic in her time if indeed it still stood at all. Honestly, she didn't know. Although she'd heard a great deal about the Isle of Skye, she'd never actually visited it. But she was here now. And wow was it awesome.

The entire island was the most lush, picturesque place she'd ever laid eyes on. Emerald green grass, true blue skies, fragrant bluebells that stood at attention in the wind. It was breathtaking.

And the castle—simply indescribable in its wonder. She gawked at the fireplace in the great hall where she was currently standing, taken aback by how large it was. She would easily be able to stand upright in it and still have a bit of head room. It was that tall. And the width—twenty replicas of her could stand side by side in it. She imagined it took a great deal of kindling to light so massive a structure every day.

And then there was the little girl. Glynna, if she'd understood Euan correctly. She was roughly six years in age and about the prettiest little thing Janet had ever laid eyes on. There was no doubt as to who had fathered this child. If the jet black curls and stubborn jaw hadn't given away her parentage upon first glance, then the way she'd flung herself into Euan's arms upon seeing him certainly would have.

What's more, it was obvious that the father was deeply in love with the daughter. Euan had actually broken into a full smile upon seeing Glynna, bending down, scooping her up off the floor, and affectionately rumpling her fine coif of a hairdo.

Janet had smiled while watching, mesmerized by the sight of it. She'd always wanted children, but she had never thought she'd have one. She didn't know how she felt about having one now. Latching on to Glynna, a motherless little girl who even now was holding her hand as she stood next to Janet and watched her father order this man and that man about, was paramount to all but giving up any hope of returning to the life she'd known but a week ago.

But did she want to return? Janet wondered silently for at least the fiftieth time. What was there for her really, especially with Morag here in the past? A job she was probably going to get fired from? An empty apartment in Cleveland she rarely saw?

There was no man in her former world that was special to her. No family either for that matter. Her parents had been dead for over five years, killed in a diving accident three days before Janet's twenty-second birthday.

Neither did she boast any real friends in the future save Morag—Morag whom she was still yet to see. She was beginning to worry that she'd never see her a—

"Janet!"

Wide-eyed, Janet whirled on her heel at the sound of that very welcome voice. Smiling brightly, she continued to clutch Glynna's pudgy little hand as she opened her arms and giggled when her best friend came bounding into them. "Morag!" she laughed.

"Oh Janet!" Morag hugged her tightly. "I was so verra worried for you!"

"I'm fine," she promised, hugging her back. "But what about you? How are you?"

Morag released Janet and stepped back a bit. It was then that she noticed Glynna for the first time. She smiled down to the little girl. "And who is this?"

"Glynna," Janet answered.

"Euan's daughter?"

"Yes."

Glynna smiled, displaying neat white teeth. "Hallo, milady," she whispered very sweetly in Old Gaelic.

"Hallo," Morag answered back with a grin, apparently having learned about as much of the tongue as Janet had. "You are verra pretty, Glynna."

"Thank-ye."

Janet's brow furrowed. Obviously Morag had learned a bit more of the tongue than she had. She reverted back to English. "How did you know those words? And how did you know Euan's name?"

"Stuart."

"Stuart?"

"Yes, Stuart," Morag responded. Her cheeks pinkened a bit as she cleared her throat. "My, uh…"

"Husband?"

She nodded. "I tried to tell you that day in the forest but—"

"It's ok," Janet said wryly, "I pretty much figured it out for myself."

"Among other things, I'd wager."

Janet shook her head. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Morag chuckled. "We were in the same boat as you and your husband, you know, even if the men would no' let us see each other until we docked."

"And?"

She grinned. "Your man was doing more than a wee bit of moaning from what I could hear all voyage long."

Janet's face flushed with heat. She couldn't hold back the small smile that tugged at the corners of her lips though. "So glad I was able to unknowingly provide entertainment," she murmured.

Morag smiled, chucking her playfully under the chin. "Quit blushing. You have the look of a turnip."

Janet happened to glance down just then and noticed that Glynna was watching a little girl across the room play with a doll. The look in her eyes was one of unadulterated longing, a child desperately wanting to play, yet she made no move to dislodge herself from Janet's side even though it was obvious she'd rather be doing little girl things.

Good lord, Janet thought, she'd never met a child so in control of her naturally playful and exploratory nature. Not a good thing at the age of six, to stand off to the side rather than indulge. She turned to Morag. "Do you know the word for ‘play'?"

"Hmm." She thought that over a minute, then threw a word at Janet.

Janet nodded her thanks then turned back to Glynna. "You may play now if you would like." She smiled down to her.

Glynna's return smile was so big as to border on bursting. Janet now understood that when Euan had first brought the little girl to her side, he must have instructed her to remain with Janet unless told otherwise. Good grief how boring for a six-year-old!

"Thank-ye, mum."

Janet's back stiffened. She hadn't been expecting such an endearment so soon, if it all, and she was confused as to how she should feel about it. It was frightening. And yet heart-warming at the same time. Realistically she knew the little girl was probably only calling her by the name she'd been told to use, but it didn't keep her heart from swelling up just a bit. "You're welcome," she said softly, scooting her gently away from her skirt. "Go play now."

Morag chuckled as the little girl bounded away. "She is a verra pretty wee thing."

"Mmm yes. She is."

The conversation turned then as they caught each other up on all that had transpired since they'd been separated. "I love it here." Morag waxed nostalgic as she spun around in a circle and took in the massive great hall and its bustling activity. "Stuart might be a bit high-handed at times, but he's good to me, gentle with me. No' at all a tyrant as my damned brothers were."

Janet didn't know the first thing about Stuart, but she could agree with that bit about Morag's brothers. She shook her head, bemused. "Are you telling me you don't want to go back to the future?"

Morag sighed, then shrugged. "I really don't know, Janet. I was no' thrilled with my life back in Nairn, hated it in fact. I would have gone crazy had I no' had you for a friend."

"I know what you mean," Janet murmured, her cat-like green eyes straying to absently watch Glynna play dolls with her friend. "But I can't imagine life here will be easy either." Her brow wrinkled as she considered something. She glanced back toward Morag. "Do you even know where we will be living once we leave the castle? Are Euan and Stuart sort of like, I don't know, soldiers to the big guy here or something?"

Morag's mouth dropped open. "You mean you do no' know?"

"Know what?"

Morag chuckled. "Janet lovie, Stuart is a soldier to the big guy as you so aptly named him, but Euan is the big guy."

Janet's eyes blinked a few times in rapid succession. She wasn't exactly sure what Morag…oh my.

Janet's eyes strayed across the hall to where her husband was instructing a man to send a message from him to another laird. She couldn't eavesdrop on much of the conversation—they were standing too far apart—but she did manage to make out the last sentence he'd uttered. Tell him Mac Dhonuill nan Eilean sent ye.

Mac Dhonuill nan Eilean?

Janet's breath caught in the back of her throat. She swallowed roughly as her eyes darted back toward a grinning Morag.

"That's right," Morag nodded. "You married the MacDonald of the Isles."