Forged in Dreams and Magick (Highland Legends #1)(88)
In silence, I renewed my vow to the role he’d given me—caretaker of his clan. Brigid and I wandered back to the village, and the small crowd that gathered to bid Iain a safe journey walked with us. I surveyed our people and the surrounding landscape with fresh eyes.
I clasped one of Brigid’s hands with both of mine. “I want to spend the morning focusing on everyone’s needs.”
My voice carried loud enough for everyone to hear. The group exploded with excitement, several people addressing me at once. I grinned, eager to help them in every way, determined to understand and become an integral part of a world that had chosen me.
“I’ll need pine board to build more beehives,” said Agnes. “Mairi’s been helpin’ me with the harvestin’ and candle makin’.”
Jamie, one of Iain’s guard left behind for protection, spoke up. “M’Lady, three of the cottages need roof rethatchin’ before winter.”
A tug at my skirt drew my attention downward. Round eyes of emerald green looked up at me. A stem, covered in dozens of creamy-white flowers with pink striations, was thrust between us, clutched in his little hand. The orchid blooms resembled ascending angels, their broad, scalloped skirts and high-arching wings fluttering in the breeze.
“Why, thank you,” I said, taking the flowers from the lad. Between my fingers, I twirled the conical bouquet-on-a-stem, delighted with the secretly symbolic gift.
As we passed by the garden, I glanced at the stream flowing inside the curtain wall, feeding into the millpond. I realized not everything existed independent of the outside world. The water had flowed when I was on the other plane. Had creatures swam through both realms with the water current? The mechanics of what could and could not breach the time barrier perplexed me.
People broke off a few at a time, going to their homes or finishing their day’s tasks. Agnes, the beekeeper, joined Mairi, donning a similar linen-shrouded hat and gloves. Mairi held a smoldering stick up and blew smoke into one end of the four-foot-tall, two-foot-square wooden hive, forcing the bees out. Agnes pulled out pieces of honeycomb and carefully placed them into a lined basket at their feet.
Brigid squeezed my arm when only the two of us remained. She whispered, “I’m off to find Donalda. I need to order a few new gowns. Agnes is pregnant with her first bairn.” Before I had a chance to reply, she skipped off toward the seamstress’s cottage.
I laughed at Brigid’s boundless energy and walked into the smithy, marveling at all the gleaming weaponry hung on the wall. Hamish slid a red-hot blade from the forge with huge forceps. Then he laid it upon an iron anvil and hit the fiery surface with the hammer in his other hand, causing sparks to fly.
“Hamish!” I shouted above the ear-piercing clash of metal.
He glanced up, grunting.
“I need four iron candleholders about so high.” I held my hand about shoulder height, and he nodded in reply. “Where would I find someone to supply wood?”
“Uilleam’s the woodcutter. He stocks the kitchen every few days in the late morning,” he said.
“Thank you,” I shouted over my shoulder as I dashed off.
I rushed up the hill, hoping to catch Uilleam if he hadn’t yet stocked for the week. When I arrived in the kitchen, midday meal preparations were in full swing. Rowena, a generously curved woman with ruddy cheeks, oversaw the kitchen staff of a half dozen while they cut meat, added herbs to stews, and pulled out small bread loaves from a stack.
I stood there long enough to get Rowena’s attention. She began to cross the room. Rich scents of a brewing stew wafted into my nose, and my gut clenched. I rushed out of the kitchen and into the hall, my hand flying to my mouth.
My entire skin dampened as I struggled with a wave of nausea. I took several slow, deep breaths until the intensity of the attack subsided. I laughed dryly, musing that Agnes might not be the only one pregnant. During that fleeting thought, the smile fell from my face, complicated reality sobering my mood. How stupid of me not to think about what unprotected sex with two men would produce.
Burying the ramifications of my actions into the sand along with my head, I dragged my body up the stairs, pressing my cheek against the cool stones of the wall as I went. The clan seemed to be doing fine without me, and I needed to lie down and rest a while. Later, I would calculate my cycles to determine if I was pregnant, who the father might be.
With a shoulder into the heavy door, I stumbled into our room and collapsed onto the bed. Layers of blankets cushioned my fall as a dizzy spell spiraled me out of consciousness.
*
A new day brought our Highland mountains gray skies with a steady drizzle. I’d found and met with the woodcutter. Brigid had been kind enough to fetch the seamstress up to the castle so that we could both select fabrics for new gowns. Dress patterns and jewel-toned cloth squares were spread in a mosaic across the wooden surface of a long table in the great hall.
I perused the length of the table, sucking in slow breaths, feeling a little green from what seemed like morning sickness. I’d put thought to the matter, realizing I hadn’t had any flow since my time-jumping—and bed-hopping—adventure had begun. The calculations meant, if the symptom rang true, that I was likely about nine weeks pregnant with Iain’s child.
I sat down, rubbing soft pink satin between my fingers. The color made me wonder if the babe would be a boy or a girl. Brigid and Donalda chattered on about the best fabrics to suit Agnes while two men came up from the cellar and transported a large wooden barrel across the room toward the larder.