The Pocket Watch Page 12

  Logan wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer, but he asked, “What did she tell ye?”

  “She said if I went back in time and fell in love, I should stay.”

  Relief flooded Logan. “She said that?”

  “Aye she did. She said not to worry about her and Da and for once to think of my own happiness. She also said that if I don’t wake up in the morning, she would be sad and miss me forever, but she would know someone worthy had earned my heart.”

  Maggie closed the watch, laid it aside and, taking one of his hands in hers said, “And she was right.”

  Chapter 14

  Maggie continued to recover over the next few weeks. She would have a terrible scar on her back forever, but the infection cleared and eventually she could breathe easily, so evidently the pneumothorax had resolved as well. Near the end of September, a month later than originally planned, Maggie married Logan.

  It wasn’t a pristine June day. It was a chilly wet September day.

  There were no peonies or flowers of any sort decorating the chapel, but she did carry a bouquet of fragrant fresh herbs.

  There were no bridesmaids in stylish periwinkle dresses. Aggie MacIan, stood with her and Dougal with Logan. Lady Davina sat in the front row bouncing the MacIan’s eight month old daughter Moira on her knee. Lady Agnes sat next to her, beaming.

  There was no flower girl and no guitarist—it would be more than four hundred years before Pachelbel composed his Canon in D or Bach, Jesu Joy of Man’s Desiring.

  Maggie wasn’t wearing a perfectly elegant white gown, but rather a deep blue léine under a richly embroidered, pale yellow sideless surcoat. The pale blue plaid she wore was held on with the gold circular brooch Logan had given her the previous evening. “It’s a ring of bog myrtle, a symbol of Clan Carr.”

  She had the plaid pulled over her head against the rain.

  It wasn’t her father waiting next her to escort her to her bridegroom but Laird Grant. He had been at her side during the worst of her illness. Even after he knew the truth, he spent long hours in her company as she recovered. One day, he took her hand and looked into her eyes. “Maggie, this is hard for me to say. I loved my daughter and I miss her dreadfully. But I have come to love ye too, and I can’t help but think part of Margaret lives on in ye. Since ye decided to stay and ye have no other kin, I would be honored if ye could think of me as yer da.”

  Tears had filled her eyes and she squeezed his hand. “Thank ye, I was hoping ye would say that…Da.”

  She squeezed his hand now. He leaned down, kissed her cheek and whispered, “Ye’re a bonny bride, Maggie.”

  This was not the wedding Maggie had always imagined. But then the man she loved more than life itself turned to watch her as she walked towards him, his face alight with awe and so full of love that she could scarcely take it in. Then his lips turned up into a cheeky grin and he winked at her.

  Nay, this wasn’t the wedding she had always imagined, but nevertheless, it was the wedding of her dreams.

  After the vows were exchanged in front of the church, followed by the nuptial Mass inside, there was a wonderful feast in the great hall. Understandably, the many allies of both the Carrs and the Grants who had gathered for the ill-fated wedding, had not returned. Only the MacIan’s were in attendance.

  Logan had said he wouldn’t marry her until she could dance, and dance she did. Perhaps not quite as much as she might have otherwise, but she danced.

  To her surprise, late in the evening a resounding call went up for “the bedding”. The bedding? Images she had seen in period dramas on television flashed through her mind.

  The horror of the idea must have been clearly written on her face because Logan laughed and leaned close. “By yer expression, it appears ye have an inkling of what they’re calling for. But never fear, Maggie, I’ll stop the worst of it.”

  He gave her a quick kiss before standing and calling for quiet. “Although we quite appreciate your desire to see us safely to our chamber and ensure the bed is properly blessed, I must ask yer indulgence tonight. My lady has only just recovered from a terrible injury that still pains her. Father, if ye lead the way, I’ll carry her up and after the blessing, we will bid ye all goodnight at the door.”

  Even that was a bit daunting for Maggie, but clearly there was nothing she could do to prevent it. Logan lifted her easily before burying his face in her neck and kissing her until she giggled. The crowd roared their approval and parted to allow their laird and his bride to pass.

  In no time, they reached Logan’s chamber, the bed was blessed and he chivied everyone from the room, with Maggie still in his arms, blushing profusely.

  As the sounds of the well-wishers faded away, Logan sat on the bed still holding her in his arms. He lowered his lips to hers and gave her a long, soul-stirring kiss.

  When he released her lips, he pulled away and just looked at her. “Ye are beautiful Maggie Carr, and I love ye more than ye can possibly know.”

  “I love ye too, Logan.” She reached up, caressing his cheek.

  He kissed her again before saying, “There is something I have wanted to ask ye. Yer answer doesn’t matter, but I want to know.”

  Maggie suspected she knew where this was going. “Ye can ask me anything, Logan. I will always tell ye the truth.”

  His brow furrowed a little. “Ye told me that things in yer century are different—that attitudes and expectations have changed. I was just wondering if…well if…”

  “If I have ever been with a man?”

  He nodded. “Aye.”

  “Nay, Logan. Margaret was a virgin and so am I. Elliott and I were very young and had made a decision to wait. He fell in love with Amanda before that changed. After him, I never had another serious relationship.”

  He smiled and kissed her. “I’m glad.”

  She smiled back. “So am I.”

  ~ * ~

  At last Logan had Maggie in his arms, in his bed. He had desired her for months now, but had to be content with innocent touches and some slightly less than innocent kisses. Now it took a supreme effort, but he made love to her as slowly and tenderly as he could manage. Not only was it her first time, but the wound in her back still caused her pain and he wouldn’t risk hurting her for anything. Still, she responded to him with an abandon that thrilled him. When she came apart beneath him he experienced pure ecstasy.

  Afterwards, he lay beside her, holding her close as they drifted back to earth. She looked drowsy and replete. He nuzzled her neck, planting a kiss behind her ear.

  “Mmmm.” The soft throaty sound she made was almost a purr.

  “Sleep now, my precious lass.”

  Maggie stifled a yawn. “I don’t want to.”

  He chuckled. “I don’t recall giving ye an option.”

  She snuggled in to him. “We may have to have a chat about this…but right now, I’m too tired. Good night, Logan.”

  “Sleep well, Maggie,” he whispered, kissing her temple.

  Chapter 15

  Michaelmas Fair, near Inverness

  A few days later

  Maggie was both thrilled and appalled by a real medieval fair. The contests of strength and skill were frankly brutal, but the merchant stalls were fascinating. While there were no stands selling smoked turkey legs, there was a variety of interesting, if sometimes questionable food to sample.

  Logan watched her with amusement as she gingerly tasted a meat pie. “Do ye like it?”

  “It’s not bad. It tastes a bit like chicken. What is it?” she asked as she took another bite.

  “Pigeon.”

  “P-pigeon?” she sputtered, trying desperately to keep from spitting it out.

  He laughed. “Aye, pigeon and ye said it tasted like chicken so don’t look so affronted.”

  She swallowed and grinned sheepishly. “I suppose it is just the idea of pigeon that seems distasteful,” she whispered.

  He winked at her. “Should I have purchased an eel pie?”

&n
bsp; She wrinkled her nose. “Nay, pigeon is fine.”

  He laughed again. Taking her hand he pulled her away from the stalls towards a small copse of trees. “Let’s find a place to sit and rest a bit while we eat. Ye are still recovering and I don’t want to tire ye over much.”

  “I’m fine.”

  He frowned at her.

  “Ah, but I suppose I wouldn’t mind a wee rest.”

  “That’s better.”

  As they approached the trees Maggie saw an old woman in a dark cloak that she hadn’t noticed at first. The hood was over her head, shielding her face. When they drew closer it appeared the old woman was asleep. “Perhaps we shouldn’t disturb her,” said Maggie.

  “Who?” asked Logan.

  “The old woman there under the tree.”

  “Oh, I hadn’t noticed her. Aye, I suppose ye’re right.”

  He began to turn away when the old crone called, “Ye wouldn’t have a bit of food to spare for an old soul, would ye?”

  “Aye, we have a pigeon pie ye can have,” said Maggie, “we’ll get another.”

  “Maybe eel this time,” whispered Logan with a grin.

  “Not eel,” she whispered back with mock severity. “Wait here, I’ll just be a minute.”

  “Whatever ye wish, my kind hearted lady.” He gave her a quick kiss.

  Maggie walked the short distance to the crone and crouched down next to her, offering her the pie. “Here ye are. I’m sorry, there is a bite out of it. Do ye have a costrel of water?”

  The old woman nodded, her hood still obscuring her face. “Aye, I do, thank ye. And thank ye for the victuals. I knew it from the moment I first saw ye—ye’re a good lass.” The woman looked up, allowing the hood to fall away.

  “Gertrude?”

  “Aye, lass. Ye didn’t show up at the sculpture garden.” She grinned. “I thought I’d just check to see if ye still think I need the assistance of a mental health care professional.”

  Maggie laughed. “If ye do, we both do.”

  “Ah, sweetling, it is good to hear ye laugh. Ye were so very sad when last I saw ye. Are ye happy?”

  “Aye, Gertrude, I am, but I suspect ye already knew that.”

  Gertrude arched an eyebrow and shrugged. “I still like to hear it.” She smiled for a moment before turning serious. “Maggie, I knew this was going to be a challenge and I am sorry to have put ye through it, but I also knew ye were the lass for this job. Perhaps more importantly, I knew ye were the woman for that fine man.” She tipped her head towards Logan.

  “Aye, ye were right.”

  “So, do ye still wish to be Amanda?”

  Maggie laughed. “Nay, not even remotely.”

  Gertrude nodded sagely. “Good. Old flames need to be extinguished and nothing does that better than a new flame.”

  Maggie considered her for a moment. “Can I ask ye something?”

  Gertrude gave her sly grin. “Ye can ask. I may not answer.”

  “Fair enough. I always thought…I mean in fiction authors always implied if someone travelled back in time, they couldn’t change anything without completely changing the course of history.”

  Gertrude chuckled. “Did ye stop the Norman invasion or tell Lincoln not to go to the theatre that night?”

  “Nay, ye know I didn’t have that opportunity.”

  “And according to yer history books, did a bloody feud start between the Grants and the Carrs in the thirteenth century?”

  “Things like that weren’t in my history books. I don’t know.”

  “Well I do. There wasn’t a feud between the Grants and the Carrs in the thirteenth century. They had a strong alliance because Laird Logan Carr married a wee Grant lass who he loved with all his heart. Although her name was Margaret, she was affectionately known in later years as Maggie.”

  “But how could it have already happened this way when I haven’t been born yet?”

  “Of course ye’ve been born Maggie, for here ye are. Ye’ve travelled through time; surely ye realize it’s not linear. The idea that the past is followed by the present and then the future is arbitrary. What is to say that tomorrow cannot be followed by yesterday and then today, especially when that is exactly what has happened?”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Few people do, sweetling. Perhaps it is just easier to understand that it happened because it did. Your soul was here when ye were needed here and in the future when ye were needed there.”

  “I suppose I understand that. I do wish my sister could know what happened to me.”

  “Ye told her ye were coming. She told ye if ye stayed, she’d know someone worthy earned your heart.”

  “How do ye know that?”

  Gertrude laughed. “She told me. I stopped by after yer funeral to give her something. It was a deadly dull old book called The History of Clan Carr. Oddly, she found the thirteenth century very interesting. But don’t ask me how it ends. Ye’ll get no spoilers from me.”

  Tears welled in Maggie’s eyes. “Thank ye.”

  “No worries, lass. She’s happy for ye. Now, yer Highlander there is growing concerned. Best ye get back to him.”

  Maggie leaned in and kissed Gertrude’s leathered cheek. “Will I see ye again?”

  Gertrude shrugged. “Who knows what the future holds.” She laughed merrily.

  Maggie laughed with her. “Then I’ll just say so long, for now.” Standing up she added, “Take care of yerself.”

  “I will, lass. Ye do the same.”

  Maggie started to leave but Gertrude stopped her. “Lass, before ye go, I believe ye have something belonging to me.”

  “Oh Gertrude, I don’t have it with me.”

  “Do ye not? Are ye sure?”

  Maggie’s hand went to her throat. Feeling the chain there she grinned. “How did ye do that?” she asked as she took the chain from around her neck and handed the pocket watch to Gertrude.

  “I’ve already told ye. The watch always manages to be where it’s needed.” Gertrude put it in a pocket of her voluminous cloak and winked at Maggie. “I expect there might be other souls who need rearranging, don’t ye know. Now be on yer way.”

  “Aye, Gertrude. Thank ye again.” Then Maggie walked toward Logan without looking back. “Shall we go buy another pie?”

  He smiled. “Aye, love.” He took her hand and as they walked back towards the stalls he said, “Ye spent a fair bit of time chatting with the crone.”

  “Aye, I suppose I did.”

  “What on earth did ye have to chat about?”

  “Lots of things, but chief among them was time travel.” Maggie laughed at the look of horror on Logan’s face. “Logan, that old crone was Gertrude.”

  “What? Why didn’t ye tell me?” He turned back towards the copse of trees and stopped dead in his tracks. “Where is she?”

  Maggie shrugged. “She has a bad habit of disappearing like that, but I suspect the question isn’t where is she, but rather when is she?”

  Epilogue

  Castle Carr

  July 22, 1280

  Maggie lay in bed exhausted. She had just delivered their fifth child—a rather stubborn wee lass. The logical side of her brain said, I did mention the lack of epidurals at least once.

  The illogical side of her brain said, Shut up. Look at her little nose, it’s so cute.

  Logan sat beside the bed, holding Maggie’s hand, looking nearly as spent as she did. “Maggie, there are times I think you made up this whole thing about fathers being present for birthing. I simply cannot imagine what man in the future thought this was a good idea. It nearly kills me every time I have to watch ye bring a child into the world.”

  Maggie shook her head. “It nearly kills ye does it? There are so many things wrong with what ye just said, I don’t know where to begin.”

  Logan gave her a cheeky grin, “But ye love me even if I am something straight out of the, what did you call it, the dark ages?”

  “I do love ye with everything
in me. But I should never have said that and ye’re never going to let me live it down, are ye?”

  He leaned down and kissed her. “Nay my darling, I’m not.”

  Logan’s mother, who sat cuddling her newest grandchild and chuckling at their banter, cocked her head. “Shh, someone’s coming. No more talk about the future or the dark ages.”

  It turned out to be more than one someone coming. Lady Agnes, who relied heavily on a cane these days, walked in with Maggie and Logan’s four other children.

  “Do ye mind a quick visit from an old woman and four wee rogues, lass?” Agnes walked to the bed and kissed Maggie on the cheek. “I hear that was a hard one, sweetling. Are ye well?”

  “Aye, Grandmother. I’m a bit tired, but fine.”

  Agnes chuckled. “I expect more than a bit. We won’t stay long, but I can wait no longer to see my birthday present.”

  Davina stood up. “Agnes, sit here and ye can hold the wee trouble-maker.”

  Six-year-old Malina only had eyes for the new bairn but the three-year-old twins, Edward and Elasaid went straight to Maggie. Elasaid started to climb onto the bed, into her lap.

  Logan scooped her up. “Nay, Ella, Mama is very tired.”

  Ella pouted.

  Having seen his twin thwarted, Edward just sidled up to the bed and rested his head against his mother.

  Maggie stroked his head but said to Ella. “Mama is going to take a long nap now, Ella. Would ye like to lie next to me and nap?” Ella hated taking naps. Maggie had no doubt that suggestion would stop the brewing tantrum.

  The little girl frowned. “Nay, Mama, I don’t want a nap. I dust want to see the baby.”

  “Are ye sure?” Maggie asked, trying to stifle a grin.

  “Aye, Mama. Da, let me down so I can see it.”

  Logan put her down, but held onto her hand. “It’s a her.” He took Edward’s hand too, saying, “Come son, ye have a look too.” He led them across the room to where his grandmother sat.

  With the littlest ones occupied, Evan drew closer, giving Maggie a hug. “Are ye all right, Mama? Ye look…well are ye all right?”