Lost Bride Chapter 4

TWO

TAKING WHISKY FROM A STRANGER

Inside, the inn smelled of baking bread, ale, and smoke from the fire. A man staggered past them to the stairs.

Whew!

Someone didn’t get the memo about antiperspirant. Still, the place was sheltered and dry, so she couldn’t complain. Everyone wore the same sort of costume, as if they were part of a Renaissance fair. One man, looking the worse for wear, lay draped over a table, asleep and contentedly snoring, his hand still grasping a pewter flagon of ale.

Lucy didn’t know what to make of the place. It had to be one of those historic pubs with the old, dark wood paneling and benches they all had. She’d visited more than a few of those pubs during her carefree college backpacking days, and they all had a similar look, especially after a couple of beers. But the clientele hadn’t dressed quite like these people. No, if she wasn’t drunk, then she had to be dreaming.

Rory led her to a blazing peat fire, where he set a chair down before her and gestured for her to sit. “Dry yourself here by the fire.” Without asking, he unfastened her hair clip and unpinned her soggy bridal updo.

“Oh!” Startled, she began to protest. “Well…” She was not nearly as comfortable with his hands on her as he was. It wasn’t that the touching was so wrong. After all, it was only her hair. “Well, okay.”

But it didn’t feel okay. It felt way better than that, which was when she began to feel guilty. Until a few hours ago, the only hands in her hair—not counting her stylist’s—had been Tyler’s, and not all that often. She quietly breathed in through her nose just to make sure she wouldn’t sigh as he combed his fingers through her hair by the heat of the fire.

He stopped, and she missed him already.

“Wait here. I’ll get us something to drink.”

Lucy looked into the fire and tried to make sense of her day, which she should’ve conceded was not going to happen.

“A fall wedding would be perfect!”

How well she remembered that moment not one year ago. She’d said yes. How could she not have? And they had celebrated—well, they’d gone to tell Tyler’s parents. They had proceeded to spend the whole evening in his parents’ Westchester mansion, backs straight, hands folded, and knees pressed together. They’d all agreed it was a perfect match.

Her life had always seemed perfect in everyone else’s eyes. She had sailed through school to college and graduate school, lined up a job before graduation, and met Tyler in a training seminar during her first week on the job. They’d been together for nearly five years before Tyler popped the question. Well, if glancing up over his laptop to posit—in the same tone of voice he used when making a tee time—his reasoning as to why marriage would be a logical step at this point in their lives could be considered a proposal, then yes, he had proposed.

He’d startled her, really. They had both been buried in work, he with a computer programming crisis, and she with a sales team communication challenge.

“Okay. Let’s talk about it after we come up for air.” And she looked back down at her laptop and returned to her usual work-stress balance. She’d always assumed a formal question-popping would follow at some point after his impromptu presentation. It hadn’t. But no worries, that was just Tyler’s way. He was good and kind and everything a future husband should be. And he loved her. She paused to ponder. She was pretty sure he loved her. Who would spend seven years with someone they didn’t love? Of course he loved her. They were destined to be happy. After all, it wasn’t as though there were any scary mysteries ahead. They’d lived together, kicked the tires, and perfected the fit, end of story. They were going to be married and live happily ever after. Happily. Ever. After.

Which was

why she was lost God knew where in a setting that made no more sense than the rest of her life at the moment. A chilly breeze found its way in through the cracks in the windows and doors, catching the flames in the nearby fireplace. She glanced over at Rory, who was engaged in a chat with the innkeeper. And there Lucy was… how or why, she had no idea. All she knew was that her stomach felt as if she were riding the waves of the raging North Sea.

She shivered. Rory appeared with a crumpled tartan he’d apparently borrowed. He arranged it over her shoulders and sat down beside her with one arm protectively draped over the back of her chair.

He offered her a glass of amber liquid. “Here, drink this.”

Lucy drank it straight down. “Oh, this is good. What is it?”

He eyed her as though he did not quite believe her. “Lass, have you never had whisky?”

“I’m more of a wine drinker, myself. But that felt so warm going down. May I have another?”

With a crooked smile, Rory nodded and went to the bar. This time, he returned with a bottle, which Lucy generously poured into her glass and proceeded to drink.

“Easy.”

She gave him a cross look. “It’s not like I haven’t had alcohol before. I’ve been to college.”

Rory leaned back and folded his arms. “It’s a wee bit stronger than wine.”

The plaid slipped off Lucy’s shoulder, so Rory wrapped it around her again. Whether he’d pressed her head to his sturdy shoulder or she had collapsed from exhaustion, she wasn’t quite sure. She thought about lifting her head to sit up on her own, but the truth was, his shoulder felt warm. With a sudden longing for that same warmth to surround her, she turned her face to his shoulder and breathed in. Wild grass and fresh sweat—he smelled manly. Wow, was this dream ever vivid.

“Are you sniffing me, lass?” Small lines formed at the outside corners of his eyes when he smiled.

“No!” She came to her senses and assumed a shocked expression.

His crooked smile told her he wasn’t buying any of it. On the other hand, he didn’t seem to mind, either. She couldn’t help but be charmed—because she was human, and who wouldn’t be? They didn’t make men like him anymore. He was all man and knew it. She lifted her chin and looked away even though she could still feel his eyes on her. Could the guy ever stare! In a good way—not a creepy one. He watched her as though he wanted to protect her, which was new and felt good… too good. That was bad. It was way too soon. She was simply reacting to what Tyler had done by pretending he hadn’t hurt her.

But if she had to have a rebound man, why not have one who was thoughtful, strong, and good looking? Wow, the fire was warm.

“Was that him I saw?”

“Who?”

“Your fiancé man.”

“A simple ‘fiancé’ will do,” she corrected.

Rory looked at her with feigned pity. “Oh, he’s simple, is he?”

“No.” Was he deliberately trying to irk her? From his smug expression, she was sure that answer was yes.

“Was that him in the cairn?”

“In the what?”

“In the rocks?”

“Oh.” Her lip curled as she recalled seeing Tyler. So he’d seen it too. She thought maybe she’d been hallucinating. Could one even hallucinate while dreaming? Wouldn’t that be kind of redundant?

Whatever.

Rory settled comfortably back in his chair. “They call it the fairy cairn.”

Well, wasn’t he the informative Scottish tour guide? With nothing better to do at the moment, she played along. “Why?”

“It’s said strange things happen there, as you and I have both seen.”

She ignored his knowing look. “That’s just one of those stories—like the Loch Ness Monster—to boost tourism.”

He watched her with narrowing eyes. “We both know that’s not true.”

“The Loch Ness Monster?”

“The fairy cairn.”

When she could stand it no more, she turned her gaze from the fire to him. “Things like that don’t just happen.”

He regarded her as though she should know as well as he did what the truth was. And the worst part was that she did. “We both saw him,” Rory said after a long pause.

She finally gave up resisting and reluctantly nodded. “I’m not dreaming, am I?”

He shook his head then leaned forward and propped his elbows on his knees. “When I was a wee lad, I was warned not to go near the cairn or the fairies would take me. All the children were told the same thing. But I wanted to see for myself. So one day, while my father had stopped for a wee dram at the inn, I snuck outside for a look. It was hollow and perfect to play in, so in I went. From the outside, it had only one entrance. But inside, I discovered another opening. My good sense told me to go back, but I ignored it. I saw things on the other side that I’d never seen before or since. An iron giant came at me and nearly killed me. I ran back to the cairn, terrified out of my wits. I told my older brother, Angus, what had happened. He laughed, of course, so I never spoke of it again, until now.” He leveled a piercing gaze into her eyes. “But you understand, for you’ve been through the cairn.”

For a moment, she was unable to speak. She shook her head slowly. “It’s a root cellar. They’re all over Putnam County and parts of New England. You can’t always see them for the trees and the weeds, but they’re there. Anyway, when Tyler—well, never mind that—I just needed a moment. And there was a light from the other side, so I was only going to hide ’til they all went away. It sounds so ridiculous now.” She stared straight ahead for a long while then whispered, “This can’t be happening. It must be the stress from the wedding—or rather, the non-wedding.” She took in a sharp breath. “What year is it now?” She lifted her eyes, afraid of the answer.

“It’s 1746.”

Lucy shut her eyes while the numbers sank in. Fear mixed with confusion as she looked into his eyes. “That’s two hundred and I can’t even count how many years ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

The more sympathetic he sounded, the worse Lucy felt. “My head hurts.” She buried her face in her hands for a moment then took in a breath and sat up. “I don’t know what to do. I mean, going home would be nice. But the opening closed up. I watched it.” Her speech had grown faster with each frantic thought.

“We’ll figure it out.”

“Will we?”

He nodded as though he was sure. “Aye.”

She liked how that sounded. “But… how?”

“We’ll put one foot in front of the other until we end up somewhere.”

Lucy lifted an eyebrow. “And to think, people spend money on life coaches.”

A moment’s confusion passed over his face. “Aye, well, the first step is to head for home before the rain starts again.”

“Home?” She could only imagine where that might be. But where didn’t actually matter, since she was not in the habit of riding off with perfect strangers—although in this case, he

was

actually perfect.

“’Tis not far.”

“Thank you, but I can’t go home with you.”

With a nod, he said, “I ken you’re afraid, but you need not be. I’ll keep you safe. I give you my word.”

His word.

When was the last time anyone’s word was his bond? People shook hands all the time. It meant nothing. And yet, oddly, she trusted this man. He had a gentle manner, the sort only a tall, strapping man could afford to reveal. He seemed trustworthy. But newspaper archives were full of stories about young, innocent women who went off with seemingly trustworthy men. And they never came back.

Seeing her hesitation, Rory said, “I cannae just leave you here—alone with this lot.”

She looked about at the handful of tavern patrons, most of whom were currently sleeping it off from the previous night. “They seem harmless enough, except that one over there staring at me. He looks like kind of a jerk.”

He raised his eyebrows with a questioning look.

She thought for a moment. “A rogue… or a scoundrel.”

He tilted his head and considered. “A jerk.”

With a nod, Lucy said, “He’s probably harmless.”

Rory looked doubtful.

Lucy considered her options. It wasn’t as though there were many options, just the two—stay or go. She supposed the man she was with was better than the soused, smelly lot there in the inn. And so far, Rory had behaved like a perfect gentleman. Why did the word “perfect” work its way into her every thought about him? She needed to decide. Her immediate future hung in the balance, and neither choice was ideal. But she looked about. Based on smell alone, this man won, hands down. And he did have some manners. Still unsure, she had to say something. “Okay.”

Before she could have second thoughts, they both emptied their glasses. Lucy reached for the bottle, but Rory gently took it from her and set it down on the table as the two of them headed outside to his horse. Rory swung himself up in one motion then held out his hand.

“But—”

With one strong motion, he pulled her up behind him. “Hold on.” When she failed to do so, he reached back and brought both her arms about his waist. “Ready?”

“No.” She wasn’t kidding.

And with that, they rode off.

“Won’t it look improper for you to be bringing a strange woman home?” Lucy had read a few Jane Austen novels. She knew how it was. People would talk. She and Rory would be shunned by the town. She supposed she could weather that storm, but could he? And yet, as she clung to his waist, her body pressed against his, she became more concerned about his prospects of being alone with her. She was reluctant to admit it, even to herself, but there was something about him that thrilled her—no, troubled her. That was what she meant. For starters, his touch was electric, and his straight brown hair touched his thick neck and collar in just the right way. Lucy shook her head. This was only a reaction to being dumped at the altar. She was already vulnerable, and now she was lost. Latching on to a good-looking man was a great way to avoid facing her problems alone. That was all it was. Her wild attraction to Rory would fade, and she would wonder what she’d ever seen in this guy with his coarse shock of hair and broad shoulders—not to mention his dark eyebrows and deep-set brown eyes that she could drown in. Nope. Nothing to look at there.

At some point during her musings, the skies opened up and began pelting them with rain as they pressed on toward Rory’s home. They rode through a glen to the foot of a hill that he’d called a brae, where a large building loomed. “Don’t tell me you live there.”

“All right.”

“I mean… wow. And you’re sure that the, uh, lord of the castle won’t mind if I visit?”

“He’ll likely not know. My father’s been ill and confined to his bed.”

Rory left his horse with a boy in the stable and led her inside, where they stood by the warmth of the fire. No one was about at the late hour. Feeling his eyes upon her, Lucy glanced around the room—everywhere except at him.

“Do I make you nervous?”

She averted her eyes. “Of course not.”

I am such a liar.

“You’re safe here.” He took a step toward her and lifted her hands in his. “I promise.”

“It’s not you.” Well, that wasn’t quite true. “It’s all just a lot to take in.”

“And you must be exhausted. Wait here while I arrange for someone to prepare your bedchamber.”

Lucy surveyed the room lit by flickering firelight. The ceilings were tall, with large paintings and tapestries hanging about. Even in the dim light, it looked sumptuous. If she had to get lost in the past, she may as well have wound up with a good-looking guy in a castle. All things considered, she’d done well.

Rory returned with a housemaid in tow as he gave her instructions. “Effie, would you show Miss…”

“Buchanan.”

“Miss Buchanan to her room. Oh, and find her something to wear.”

“Sir?”

Rory paused in his tracks and thought for a moment. “Give her one of Mistress Munro’s gowns.”

Mistress Munro.

Lucy took note. Mother? Sister-in-law? Maybe wife?

Effie’s eyes widened, but a stern look from Rory sent her eyes downward.

Turning to Lucy, he said, “Should you need anything, you have only to ask Effie here.”

“Come, Miss Buchanan,” Effie said.

With reluctance, Lucy thanked him and left.