Lord of the Black Isle (12 page)

“It wasn't something I chose, but rather something that happened to me and my sister.” She went on to explain how she and Isobella traveled to Scotland because they wanted to visit places where their Scots ancestors lived. “We went to St. Bride's Kirk in Lanarkshire to see the tomb of Sir James, the Black Douglas. My sister was so moved by the sad story of how he was killed fighting the Moors near Theba, Spain, that she started to cry. She put her hand on his effigy, where his heart would have been, and said she was so sorry. Immediately, she jerked her hand back because the place she touched was warm.

“The next day, we visited Beloyn Castle to see the portrait of the Black Douglas that hung there. Isobella, feeling quite emotional again, put out her hand and touched the painting, where the cape curled around his boot, and she said, ‘It's really you, isn't it?' She no more than said the words when everything went black.”

Elisabeth paused and looked at him, as if trying to see how he was taking all she had said, but he kept his expression passive and said nothing, other than to tell her, “Go on with yer outrageous story.”

“There isn't much more to it. When the darkness cleared, we found ourselves standing in the middle of nowhere familiar, and then I noticed a vaporous glowing light of a greenish color that began to take shape, until we could tell that it was the Black Douglas in his ghostly form.”

“'Tis impossible! There are no ghosts!”

A look of utter and complete defeat settled upon her face. Eyes downcast, hands clasped tightly in her lap, she shrugged and looked away. He was touched by the sadness, laced with uncertainty and possibly fear, that he saw in her eyes when she looked back at him to say, “I said you wouldn't believe me. Now you understand why I was hesitant to tell you. Call it what you will, but it is the truth. There most certainly is at least one ghost that exists, and I have seen him here at Aisling.”

He saw the moment she seemed to lose all hope, for he saw defeat in the way her shoulders slumped and her eyes were downcast, as if she was resigning herself to her fate. Did she truly believe he would harm her? He realized he was at a crossroads and he was undecided as to how to deal with this.

If he was firm and threw her words back in her face, if he pushed her and refused to believe her, she would withdraw and speak of it no more. He searched for a reason to believe her and decided that her story was so preposterous that there was no reason for her to make up such an outlandish story, for she knew full well he or any man would not believe her, just as she said.

“I did not ask to be brought here,” she said, “and although I have come to love it here in Scotland, and I feel I have so much knowledge to share and use, I do not know if it is possible that I might suddenly find myself back home, or if I will spend the rest of my life here.”

His tone softened. “Ye think it is possible that ye might return?”

“No, not really… I don't know, for Black Douglas is always evasive. Sometimes I wonder if he even knows how we came back to this time period, but I think it highly possible that he leads us down that path because he does not want to tell us everything and that is an easy way out. But I also know it happened, so I don't see why it could not happen again, and he has made comments about ghosting having its limits and boundaries as to what he can and cannot do. It is all a gray area, neither black nor white, but he is so charming and so likeable, rather like an indulgent grandfather, that one cannot help but love him.”

She glanced at him to see if he would say anything, but he decided to let her talk as long as she wished without interruption.

“I suppose you could say I am telling the truth because I know my life is at stake if I tell you a lie, for you would find the truth eventually and that could be fatal for me. I don't want to die, believe me. There is too much good I can do here if I have the chance.”

There was something sincere about the way she spoke, and there was also the look of honesty he saw in her eyes that made him want to believe her. And, she was right. To be caught lying could be a fatal choice. He would hear her out. “Pray continue wi' yer story.”

“That's about it. We asked the Black Douglas where we were, and he said the Isle of Mull. When Isobella asked if he brought us here for a reason, and he nodded and said, ‘As bidden.'”

“But ye didna say that ye bid him to bring ye here.”

“That is because we didn't ask him to send us anywhere, but then Isobella said, ‘You mean you brought us here because I cried back at St. Bride's when we visited your crypt?' And he said ‘Aye, yer tears reached out across the centuries to summon me. I might have been a mighty knight in the service of my king, but a woman's tears were ere my undoing.'”

He almost smiled at that. “Ye ha' a remarkable memory when it suits ye.”

“Believe me, I will never forget those words as long as I live.”

“Finish yer story.”

“We started talking about how we would get back to Edinburgh, and he said there were none of the means of transportation we had in our time and told us we were in Scotland in the year 1515. When we asked when we could go back, he said, ‘Who knows? Mayhap never. Mayhap when the spirit moves me.' Naturally that made us angry, and I pointed out that I did not cry at his crypt and demanded to know why he brought me along. He replied it was because I was sticking to my sister like a leech.

“We didn't have time to ask anything else because we heard shouts and the clanging of swords and saw two opposing groups of knights fighting each other nearby. Worried, we asked if he was going to take us back to our time, or was he simply going to hand us over to the warring men. We couldn't believe it, but he simply smiled and his image began to grow dim and then it faded completely away.”

“And that is the last ye saw of him?”

“Yes, he abandoned us in the glen. I did not see him for quite some time, but he appeared to Isobella quite frequently and they became very close. He really is a most likeable man… er, ghost.” She paused long enough to glance at him. “The men fighting in the glen turned out to be the MacLeans who were fighting the Mackinnons. I was captured by the MacLeans and taken to Duart Castle. Isobella was rescued by Alysandir Mackinnon and taken to Caisteal Màrrach.”

“Where is yer sister now?”

She sighed heavily, as if she knew this moment was coming, yet hoped it would not. He waited.

“My sister is still at Màrrach. She is married to Alysandir Mackinnon.”

That startled him. “The Mackinnon has heard yer story?”

“Yes, my sister told him, and like you, he did not believe her at first.” She waited and when he said nothing more, she said, “I hope my telling you will cause you to let me return to St. Leonard's.”

“Naught has changed in that regard,” he said.

Her face wore a sad expression, and he admired her ability to bear her burden without angry words or tears, in spite of her disappointment. She was a strong lass and unlikely to be gentled as easily as a deerhound.

“Do you believe any part of what I have told you?”

He could hear the pleading tone of her voice and he was surprised by her words, and the hopeless look upon her face reached far into the innermost workings of his heart. Pity was not something he normally felt, nor did he allow it to move him, yet, he could not help feeling a gentle compassion and a tender sort of caring for her. The story of her sister being married to Alysandir Mackinnon would be easy to verify, which, if true, would name her honest.

He decided he would withhold judgment until he had proof. “As ye said, yer story is too outrageous not to believe, for how could one make up such a story? And there is yer coin and yer knowledge and yer strange way o' speaking English. Therefore, I accept yer story as the truth until I can send word to the Mackinnon and receive a reply from him.”

He could hear her breath of relief and saw the way the color seemed to come out of hiding to settle upon her fair face. Lord Kinloss stood and said, “Come, I will walk back wi' ye and we will speak no more if it now.”

***

Elisabeth returned to the garden the next day, and to her surprise, she found a swing there. She looked around but saw no trace of Kinloss or anyone else, so she would wait to thank him later. She understood the swing was more than just a swing. It was his way of putting her at ease, of telling her she had nothing to fear from him, and it spoke volumes about the kind of man he was. He was educated, powerful, brave, devoted to his family, loved by his clansmen, and gentle. And that last trait touched her in a profound way.

With a smile, she went to the swing and seated herself, then realized it was more difficult to swing with a wad of petticoat and skirt tangled about her, but she finally managed to tame her skirts and try out the swing.

Hidden from sight, Kinloss stood behind the cover of a trailing vine drooping from the branches of a tree, not far away. He watched her swing and saw her fly out of the swing and fall. He dashed toward her and heard her laughing.

“Ye are no hurt from yer fall?”

Still laughing and quite breathless, she looked up through the leafy bower overhead, not bothering to get up and not bothered that he stood nearby watching her. She ignored that, for she was not ready to let him into her world, and truthfully, she did not know if she ever would be. And then she realized that perhaps that was because she had no world, for she was a woman with one foot in the present and one in the future, and she feared she might never be able to call either of them home.

So many memories, she thought. Memories of my childhood, my family, the Blanco River, my first horse, first car, first kiss, first love in high school, and how much she grieved over his being killed in Afghanistan two years after graduating from West Point… It all seemed so far away now and she felt the bite of a bittersweet longing for her past. That surprised her, for she thought herself resigned to the fact that she would never be going back.

She wouldn't go so far as to say she was sad. Melancholy would be a better word, for she was surrounded by a pensive and gentle sadness. She sighed deeply and closed her eyes, fighting for composure and telling herself that not even one miniscule tear better gather there.

He approached noiselessly and dropped down on one knee. “Ye are sad fer yer family.”

She nodded. She did not want to discuss her family or her feelings, and she wondered where her usual boldness had bolted to and why it remained in hiding. She only knew she did not want to look at him, for she feared he would see more in her eyes than she was prepared to show him.

She looked away and did not respond, nor did she move. While she was mentally planning the best way to extricate herself from this uncomfortable situation, he leaned forward and kissed her so swiftly that she was caught completely off guard. Before she could draw a surprised breath, he drew her into his arms.

Her eyes flew open, just before his mouth captured hers a second time with surprising tenderness, moving slowly, exploring, and filling her with a sort of lethargy that kept her from pulling back or pushing him away. She enjoyed kissing him as much as she had when he rescued her from Angus MacLean, and it did not sit well with her to know she was this vulnerable… she, who was never, ever vulnerable because she was always and foremost in charge. How had he managed to gain the upper hand so swiftly and without words?

When the kiss ended, she rolled to her side and came to her feet about the same time he did.

“I did not come here to seduce ye, nor did I plan for that to happen,” he said.

“Yes, well, sometimes the devil appears as a man of peace.” She turned away and walked back to the swing, taking one of the ropes in her hand. She did not know why she had said that, and it bothered her to see her harsh words find a tender place to prick. She always had the habit of engaging her mouth before her brain.

It occurred to her that a man's world can be, at times, a rather bleak one, filled with doubt and confusion, where they must prove themselves to be what they are not and, at the same time, be talented at hiding their vulnerability, so as not to risk sharing it and, by doing so, finding themselves humiliated.

Like her, he was dealing with the loss of a loved one, and that alone makes one terribly vulnerable. She thought of his eyes, those remarkable eyes of dark violet blue, which played a sort of trickery when she looked into them, for there was a look of expectation, as if he knew things about her that she, herself, did not know.

She sighed. She had not handled things well. She did not want to make an enemy of him, for it would be far better for both of them if they could become amicable and live in harmony until such time as he stopped grieving, learned she was trustworthy, and decided to let her return to the priory.

The flip side of this was that she didn't have red hair for nothing, and she found the idea of waiting upon him disconcerting.

“David…” She turned to say as much to him and found she was standing in the garden alone.

After leaving her, David needed time to sort things out in his mind, for he did not want to act rashly. Not with her. So he chose not to return to the castle or to take a swim in the burn. Instead, he rode all the way down to Moray Firth. There, he found the water calming as he sat upon a large rock at the base of the hill and watched the play of dolphins frolicking without a care. He wondered what it would be like to be as carefree as they.

His gaze then settled upon a pod of seals, lazily basking in the afternoon sun, and he closed his eyes, absorbing the warmth and feeling the calming solace of it, while he directed his thoughts toward deciding what to do about the puzzlement of a woman called Elisabeth Douglas and her incredible story. He did not know why, but he found himself believing her. But then, she had not given him any cause
not
to believe her. And then he recalled one of the few words of wisdom his father had passed on to him: