The Pocket Watch Page 6

  He frowned. “Ye don’t want to be Margaret? Who do ye want to be?”

  She remembered her conversation with Gertrude. Sometimes I wish I could have someone else’s life—just for a while. I wonder what it would feel like just to be away from the rubble of broken dreams. Well now she knew and she longed for home. Although she tried to blink it back, an errant tear made its way down her cheek. She dashed it away. “I just want to be Maggie.” As soon as she had uttered the words, she lost all ability to hold back her tears.

  Logan crossed the room, taking her in his arms, “Wheesht lass. I didn’t mean to make ye cry. I’m sorry.”

  His arms felt so good, so comforting. How long had it been? She had been the strong one for so many years now, she had forgotten how good it felt to lean on someone else occasionally. When she had regained control, she stepped back and wiped her face. “I’m sorry, I’m all right now.”

  He kept his hands on her shoulders but cocked his head to look at her. “Ye’re right. Ye aren’t Margaret. I don’t understand how a bump on the head could do this, but ye aren’t the same lass who arrived three weeks ago, determined to hate everyone and everything here.” He guided her back to the chair and put a goblet of wine in her hand.

  She took a sip. “So, ye’ll tell my da about the accident and send me home?”

  He shook his head. “Nay, I won’t.”

  “But, I’m not the lass ye agreed to marry. That surely is reason enough to break the betrothal.”

  “It’s true, ye aren’t the lass I agreed to marry but frankly, I am beginning to like ye considerably more. I know ye don’t remember all of this, but I cannot break the betrothal. Relations between the Carrs and the Grants have never been ideal, but neither have there been open hostilities. Breaking our betrothal would change that. Yer da would see it as a grave insult. Other clans would see it the same way.”

  “But I would explain—”

  “Nay, there is no suitable explanation. The only thing worse than breaking the betrothal would have been if ye had actually been killed in the accident. That’s why I was so angry with ye. If something that terrible had happened, if ye had died in my care after only a few weeks, it would have started a blood feud.”

  “But I caused the accident myself.”

  Logan snorted. “Yer father would be unlikely to believe that. But even if he did, he would still blame me for not exerting greater control in preventing ye from harming yerself.”

  Maggie was incredulous. “So if something happened to me, if I…died…ye would be blamed regardless of the fault?”

  “Regardless of the fault? Ye’re in my care, the fault would be mine.”

  The twenty-first century part of her found it insulting that even as a grown woman, she was not responsible for her own actions. Still there was no point in arguing.

  Unfortunately this left her in a bad spot. It seemed no matter what Maggie did, Margaret had set events in motion that would have severe consequences for the Carrs unless Maggie could figure out how to change them. She tried another tack, “Could I go home, just for a little while? Maybe the familiar surroundings would help my memories return.”

  Again, Logan shook his head. “I’m sorry. I know this is hard for ye, but I can’t send ye home. Ye were meant to spend time here getting to know us—getting to know me—before the wedding. If ye went home now, for any reason, it could also be seen as an insult.”

  “Surely my mother would understand, even if my father didn’t immediately.”

  A look of pain crossed Logan’s face. “Ye truly have forgotten everything. Margaret, yer mother died bringing ye into this world.”

  “Oh.” She didn’t know what else to say. Somehow learning that Margaret had never had a mother caused her heart to ache a little.

  He leaned across the table, taking one of her hands in his. “I’m sorry Margaret. It has to be this way, but everything will be all right. We will be wed soon enough. Yer da and other clan members will come then, and afterwards we can discuss a visit to yer home.”

  “Exactly when is the wedding?” If it was to occur very soon, maybe she could stay a few days and stage Margaret’s death to occur in the presence of her father, so no suspicion would fall on the Carrs.

  “We are to be married three days after the Feast of the Assumption.”

  Because she had planned to go home immediately, she hadn’t calculated when the sixty days would run out. The Feast of the Assumption was weeks away, in August. She couldn’t stay that long and even if she did stay, it might not work. With dawning clarity, Maggie realized if she had not chosen to accept the pocket watch from Gertrude and exchange souls with Margaret, a clan war would have resulted. If she simply went back now, the same thing would happen. It seemed inevitable regardless of what she did. She sighed.

  Logan misinterpreted her sigh. “I know ye didn’t want this wedding. Neither of us did. I suspect yer unpleasantness was a pretense intended to push me into breaking the betrothal. But I can assure ye that will not happen under any circumstances.” He looked intently at her for a moment before saying, “Margaret refused to accept that, making herself and everyone around her miserable in the process. After all this, can ye accept it?”

  If Margaret’s horrible behavior and subsequent memory loss had not changed Logan’s mind about breaking the betrothal, nothing would. Accept what ye can’t change, Maggie. She couldn’t change this. After he left, she would lie down for a rest and say the word. Her death would be blamed on her head injury…and thus on the Carrs, but it couldn’t be helped. Events had already been set in motion that were beyond her control.

  He pushed. “Can ye?”

  She looked into his eyes. They were so full of hope. What on earth had made her think someone else’s troubles might be a relief for a while? She sighed again. “Aye, Logan, I accept it.”

  He smiled at her. It was the first time she had seen him smile. It was warm and genuine and left her breathless.

  “I am terribly sorry about yer accident. Still, in losing yer memory, ye have forgotten how set against our betrothal ye were. Perhaps we can start again and spend the next few weeks getting to know each other as yer father had hoped.” He gave her a cheeky grin. “Perhaps ye will decide ye like me before ye remember that ye didn’t want to.”

  She couldn’t help but laugh. “Perhaps.”

  Relief flooded his features. “Good. Now, I promised mother and grandmother I wouldn’t overtax ye. I’ll leave ye so ye can have a rest.”

  She walked with him to the chamber door. She knew this was goodbye, even if he didn’t. She looked up into his eyes, trying to find the words. “Logan, I—”

  To her surprise, he kissed her, silencing what she was about to say. His kiss was warm and intoxicating. It stirred feelings she thought were dead forever, promising sensual delights to come. She returned the kiss in full measure.

  When he finally broke the kiss, he sighed, resting his forehead on hers. “Ah, Maggie.”

  If his kiss had ignited her desire, hearing him speak her real name fanned it to full flame. “Ye called me Maggie,” was the only thing her befuddled brain could manage.

  “Aye, ye said ye wanted to be Maggie and I think Maggie has a better chance of making this work than Margaret did. Do ye agree?”

  “Aye, I suppose I do.”

  “Then I’ll leave ye to rest now, Maggie, but I’ll return after sext to escort ye to dinner.”

  Maggie frowned “Sext?” Her mind jumped to the twenty-first century meaning.

  “Aye, Maggie, sext—midday. It is almost terce now.”

  Of course, Latin, the canonical hours. That was stupid Maggie. “Oh. So terce would be…midmorning?”

  He cocked his head. “Ye don’t remember the hours of the day?”

  “Evidently not.”

  He smiled and shook his head as he opened the chamber door. “Aye, terce is midmorning. We’ll go over the others later, ye need to rest.” Before stepping into the hall, he caressed her cheek for a mo
ment. “Until later,” then disappearing down the hall.

  She watched him leave, knowing there would be no later. “Good bye, Logan.”

  ~*~

  After leaving his betrothed in her chamber, Logan made his way back to the solar. He wasn’t sure what made him kiss her. He never had before. Her response thrilled him, making his step and his heart lighter than they had been in days. He had come to believe a lifetime married to Margaret would be little better than an eternity spent in hell. Maggie, however, was a different story.

  When he went to her chamber his only goal had been to come to an agreement by which they could live together without suffering unbridled hatred. At the time he hadn’t believed she had so thoroughly lost her memories. Furthermore, the drastic change in her personality led him to think either her shrewishness or her sweetness was a mask. Regardless, Margaret must have truly hated the idea of marrying him if she could resort to either.

  But as they talked it became obvious she was telling the truth about her memory and perhaps the sweetness was her true nature. The fact that she had effectively hidden it with dreadful behavior distressed him a bit. Still with the mask gone now, he thought perhaps they had a chance at happiness together.

  After the kiss at her door, for the first time since meeting her he dared to hope for more. Maggie was a woman he could come to love.

  ~ * ~

  Maggie sat cross-legged in the middle of the beautiful bed with the open pocket watch in her hand. She had been here one day and the hand had progressed one second, just as Gertrude had said it would. Yesterday had been Elliott’s wedding, the twenty-first day of June, both in her own century and this one. She had until the twentieth day of August, fifty nine days.

  Had it really only been a day since she had reawakened the pain and sorrow of Elliott’s betrayal by attending his wedding? It seemed a lifetime ago that she had sobbed in Gertrude’s arms, eventually uttering those fateful words Sometimes I wish I could have someone else’s life. Well here she sat, in the middle of someone else’s ruined life. Perhaps Margaret hadn’t thought it through, but unchecked, her actions had been destined to cause a war. Even if the accident hadn’t happened, deep down, Maggie knew Margaret would have stopped at nothing to prevent the wedding.

  Maggie also firmly believed Gertrude had known what lay in store. Perhaps she had only been trying to help Maggie put her own problems in perspective. Still, from where Maggie sat now, popping her soul into a life where she would be unable to prevent a terrible outcome seemed to be a pretty cruel lesson.

  Gertrude had said she had nothing to lose.

  Like hell. Her heart ached worse than ever. “Why did ye do this?” she said aloud. “Why put me in this hopeless situation?”

  A little voice inside Maggie said, because it isn’t hopeless.

  Then Maggie remembered Gertrude’s specific words, Truly, ye have nothing to lose and perhaps the opportunity to do a bit of good.

  Could she do a bit of good? Was it possible? Was this something she could change?

  Exactly when was the wedding to be? The Feast of the Assumption was on the fifteenth of August. Logan said the wedding was three days later, making it just barely inside her window to return home. Maggie knew she would never be able to change Logan’s mind, but if she stayed until Margaret’s clan arrived, maybe she could convince her father to set the betrothal aside. Or, barring that, go back to her original plan of staging Margaret’s death to occur in the presence of her father, so no suspicion would fall on the Carrs.

  It was a tight window, and while she feared it wouldn’t work, there was no harm in trying if there was even the slightest chance of preventing a bloody feud. She might not be able to stop the inevitable, but she would have given it her best.

  She sighed. Her eggs benedict would have to wait a while.

  With that decision made, Maggie climbed off the bed and searched for a place to hide the pocket watch. She opened the wardrobe and was overwhelmed once again by the sheer volume of garments Margaret owned. Considering a maid had to help her dress and undress and was responsible for putting her dresses away, Maggie thought it might be better to hide it in a shoe. Margaret had quite a few pairs of shoes as well but Maggie found one pair with extraordinarily long toes that curled up. The toes were so long they were stuffed with wool to help hold their shape. Maggie couldn’t imagine ever wearing them. She pulled out some of the wool, tucked the watch in, replaced the wool and stuck the shoes in the very back of the wardrobe.

  As promised, Logan escorted her to dinner in the great hall that evening. She felt a bit of the awe and excitement she had experienced in her first few hours there, but it was tempered a bit by the disapproval she felt from the clan members present. Ah well, she supposed Margaret deserved their contempt, but Maggie vowed to do what she could over the next few weeks to repair her reputation.

  Chapter 7

  Logan woke just after sun-up the next morning. He lay in bed for several minutes, contemplating the bizarre turn of events that began with the accident. He had been suspect of Margaret’s motives initially. But now that he believed her, he needed to consider all of the implications.

  The first thing he realized was, where Maggie was concerned he could make no assumptions. While her memory loss was profound, it was not complete. It wasn’t as if her mind was a total blank. She could walk and talk and communicate as well as before. In fact, she understood Latin, which she had previously pretended not to. She was poised, well-mannered and had a deep sense of right and wrong—so much so that she repeatedly appeared ashamed of, and apologized for her previous behavior. On the other hand, she didn’t remember the hours of the day, much less grasp the nature of a betrothal or clan politics. She also had some fool notion about love in her head which he simply did not understand.

  One of his biggest concerns was the way his clan had reacted to her. Margaret had been arrogant and mean-spirited but not openly abusive. In her first few days at Castle Carr he had made it abundantly clear he wouldn’t tolerate that. Afterwards, she had held herself apart, avoiding any interaction with the clan unless absolutely necessary. She saved all her venom for me, he thought wryly.

  Still, regardless of her personality, she was a noblewoman and his betrothed, so he could not allow his clan to show her disrespect either, but at dinner they had come perilously close. Today he would make certain the clan knew his expectations. It would only take a few well-chosen comments to the right people for word to disseminate.

  Since it had been fairly obvious before yesterday that he could barely tolerate Margaret, he also needed to ensure his actions towards Maggie left no room for misinterpretation.

  He was drawn from his thoughts by a knock at the door. “Enter.”

  His squire, David, poked his head in. “Laird, Freya is here and wishes to speak with ye urgently about Lady Margaret.”

  Logan frowned. “I’ll get dressed.”

  “Aye, Laird.” The lad pulled the door shut.

  Logan took only a moment to put on his clothes before admitting Freya.

  “What’s so urgent, lass?” Logan prayed silently that the old Margaret hadn’t returned.

  “Laird, I just thought ye should know, Lady Margaret was up very early this morning. She wanted to go to the great hall to break her fast and so I took her. But when we got there…it was uncomfortable.”

  “What happened? Was anything said?”

  “Well, not directly, but folks glared at her and whispered unkind things. I heard them, so I expect Lady Margaret did as well.”

  “What did she do?”

  “Ye’ll never believe this Laird, but she asked if she could sit with me…I wouldn’t have minded but I didn’t think it was proper.”

  “Did she go back to her chamber? I’ll go see her there.”

  “Nay Laird. She said she wasn’t hungry, it was a fine morning and she wanted to get a bit of air.”

  “She left the keep? Alone?”

  “Aye, Laird. I offered to go with he
r but she bade me stay. I came up here straight away to tell ye.”

  He swore and Freya’s eyes went wide. “I’m not upset with ye, lass, ye did well. I’m just sorry this happened, and I need to go find her now.”

  Moments later he was down the stairs and out of the keep. Several people reported seeing her walk towards the kitchens. She had said something about eating in the kitchen yesterday, but after what his grandmother had said he couldn’t imagine Maggie had gone there. He checked anyway. She wasn’t there but one serving lass had seen her go into the enclosed herb garden behind the kitchens.

  He hadn’t realized how worried he was until he felt overwhelming relief at seeing her sitting under an old gnarled apple tree which grew at the back corner of the garden.

  He walked toward her, taking several deep breaths before asking, as calmly as he could, “What are ye doing out here?”

  She smiled at him. “Just enjoying the morning.”

  He nodded, but the lightness in her tone sounded forced. “I see.” He sat down beside her. “Have ye already eaten yer morning meal?”

  “Nay.”

  “Why?”

  “I didn’t want to.”

  “Evidently, but why didn’t ye want to? And don’t tell me it is because ye aren’t hungry. That’s no truer today than it was yesterday.”

  She shook her head. “It isn’t important, Logan.”

  He considered her for a moment. “I think it is. Freya told me what happened.”

  Maggie sighed. “It isn’t their fault. Mar—that is to say, I brought this on. It will take time. I just didn’t have the courage to face it this morning.”

  Of all the things he could have imagined she might say, this would not have been among them. She was showing compassion for his clan—essentially protecting them from his ill will—in a manner befitting a chieftain’s wife. He took her hand in his. “Maggie, I am pleased that ye acknowledge yer part in this and that ye’ve changed. But even before, by virtue of yer status, I would not have allowed my clan to show ye such a lack of respect.”