The Inscription Read online

  Her statement was false, of that he was certain. Her expression reflected the inner battle she waged to overcome her fear at being discovered. And she was winning. Most women, indeed many men, would not have recovered their composure as quickly.

  The image of the Map of the Stars flashed before his eyes. His instincts told him he should not rule out the possibility that the chamber had been her destination. A rat scurried over his boot. He sidestepped out of the way.

  Her laughter echoed through the tunnels, Wee a breath of fresh mountain air. He allowed himself to smile. “A disease-infested vermin attacks me, and you find it amusing?”

  Her eyes sparkled with contained mischief. “Absolutely. It’s comforting to see a big, strong, handsome man like you, frightened by something so small. It makes you seem more… human.”

  He raised his eyebrows. It had been a long time since he had felt human. He quickly swept the dark thoughts from his mind. “I would prefer to say that I was startled.”

  “You jumped a foot.” Her laughing eyes challenged him. “Admit it. You almost dropped your torch.”

  He could smell the jasmine she’d used in her bath. The heady scent made him a little dizzy. And she met him as an equal. To him, that was the most potent fragrance of all.

  “You are a long way from my chamber.”

  “You changed the subject, but I’ll let you get away with it, this time. There’s something else I wanted to talk to you about.”

  Lachlan suddenly felt as though he were a small child who had been caught taking a sweet from Una’s cookroom. “And what would that be?”

  “It’s about the room. Would you mind if we went back now?”

  Before he could answer, Amber walked past him toward the dungeons. He could not let her continue in that direction. Although, at present, they were uninhabited, the skeletal remains and the weapons of torture and death were in evidence in the dark cells. Lachlan had freed the prisoners after his father’s death, but that had not washed away the guilt he had felt at not being able to stop the killings sooner.

  “My chamber is in the opposite direction, lass.”

  “You keep referring to where I’m sleeping as ‘your chamber’.”

  He followed her up a slight incline toward the stairs. The gentle sway of her gown and the outline of her form disturbed his concentration. “What did you say, lass?”

  Amber turned so abruptly he stumbled back on the walkway. Her words came out in a rush. “If I’m going to stay here, I’d like to think that the room I’m sleeping in is mine.”

  Lachlan cleared his throat. He wished she were not so eager to keep him from her bed. “The chamber is yours. I have already set up my quarters in the west wing. We are betrothed in name only.”

  Amber relaxed visibly and he was aware of the gentle rise and fall of her breasts in the close fitting gown she wore. He doubted the waters of Loch Ness were cold enough to quench his growing desire. If she had asked, at this moment, for a bathing tub made from solid gold, he would have provided one.

  MacDougal gnawed on a bone at Lachlan’s feet. Lachlan relaxed in the high-backed carved chair and waited. His new quarters were sparse, but he preferred it this way. The fewer distractions, the sharper his mind. He knew what his father would have done had he found Amber near the chamber of the Map of the Stars. But then, he was not his father.

  Loud voices broke the silence and the dog raised its head. The door opened and Bartholomew was pushed forward.

  The schoolmaster stumbled awkwardly before regaining his balance. “You sent for me, Lord?”

  “Aye.” Lachlan allowed the anger he felt to be reflected in the tone of his voice. “Why is it that you are still here?”

  Bartholomew bowed low with his arms outstretched. “I thought to plead for mercy, and to ask for a second chance.”

  The schoolmaster’s words rang false and the expression in his eyes sealed his fate. Lachlan had been too distracted with matters of the Council to evaluate properly the man who was to teach his brother. It had taken die observations of an outsider to see through the thin veil Bartholomew had drawn over himself. This was not an honorable man, but Una had told him that Bartholomew was the father of Molly’s babe and for her sake, he would reconsider.

  He tapped his fingers on the armrest of the chair.

  “I shall not speak against you if you seek employment in Inverness or any of the outlying villages. However, you will leave tonight, or you will not leave at all.”

  Chapter 4

  Amber snuggled deeper tinder the cover. The bed felt lumpier and noisier than she had remembered. She’d tell Aunt Dora about it when she went down for breakfast. She tried to hold onto the dream, but the threads of it were already fading. She stretched. It had something to do with Urquhart and a gorgeous man in a kilt who wanted to marry her… and something more.

  She yawned, opened her eyes and looked around. Stark, gray stone walls greeted her. Amber sat up and shivered. Terrific, it hadn’t been a dream. She tried to steady her breathing and took a deep gulp of cold air. It didn’t help. Okay, so she was stuck here until she could find a way back home and she’d proved earlier this evening that she shouldn’t wander around the castle. Particularly since she seemed always to be running into Lachlan. She was still recovering from the last encounter. Through the whole experience she’d had the overwhelming urge to pretend to stumble over loose pebbles and fall into his arms. Amber would be willing to bet a month’s salary that his muscles were rock solid.

  She stared out the window. It was the middle of the night. Aunt Dora had always used hot milk and nutmeg as a cure for sleeplessness, restlessness, broken hearts, and just about anything else you could think of. Amber usually preferred a book and dark chocolate. Either way she was wide awake. He stomach growled. Okay, so she was awake and hungry. If she was going to deal with this situation, she needed sleep, and food. And not necessarily in that order.

  She slid out of bed and winced as her feet hit the floor. There was only a thin layer of rushes by the bed. The floor was ice-cold. She tossed a blanket down to stand on and reached for the clothes piled on a chair nearby. For once she was glad she had numerous layers to put on; at least she’d be warm. She started with the assortment of undergarments, eliminating the ones that required lacing in the back. She pulled the long-sleeved wool dress over her head and looked at the heavy embroidered tunic. Forget it. She’d just have to deal with whatever fashion police were up in the middle of the night.

  After slipping on a pair of soft leather shoes, Amber picked up the candle. Before opening the door she glanced in the direction of the adjoining room. Candles lit the interior and their light appeared to focus on the door she’d used earlier. The wooden bolt was back in place and a larger, fiercer-looking lock secured it. The message was obvious. She didn’t need the castle to fall on her to get the idea.

  Torches flickered in the long corridor outside the room. Portraits of somber men and women lined the walls, like a gallery at a museum. She paused when she reached a dead end. To her left ran another hallway and to her right she could see a stone staircase.

  The comforting smells of baking floated through the air. It was the back entrance to the kitchen that Molly had told her about. Una must have started cooking early. Amber picked up her skirts and walked casually down the stairs. She heard a squeaking sound. Rats. She shuddered and made a mental note never to come down this passageway again.

  At the bottom of the stairs she pushed open the door. Dried herbs and dusters of garlic hung from a beam that ran lengthwise across the kitchen. Thankfully all the fish, meat and fowl from the evening meal had been cleaned up. The kitchen was spotless and smelled of cinnamon and doves. She took a deep breath.

  Candles, perched on a ledge above the fireplace, shed light on the long trestle table that was covered with flour. At the window a young woman, about fifteen or sixteen, sat with her legs tucked underneath her as she gazed out at the night. In her lap she held what looked like a small telescope
. She recognized the young woman. It was Elaenor, Lachlan’s sister. The telescope seemed an odd interest for a woman in the Middle Ages.

  A cat meowed and Amber looked down toward a tabby ball of fur as it noisily lapped milk from a saucer near the stairwell. She bent down to scratch it behind the ear. The animal looked at her and hissed, before darting into the shadows.

  “King Arthur does not like to make new friends.”

  Amber walked past the cold hearth toward the young woman who had spoken.

  “Cats don’t always like me at first. But I keep trying. I’m Amber.”

  Elaenor carefully held the telescope, untangled her legs and stood. “I know your name. You are the one my older brother pulled from Loch Ness, and the one he has announced he will marry.“

  Amber slipped her hands into the folds of her dress, in an attempt to appear casual. She hadn’t a clue how a sixteenth century, betrothed woman was supposed to act. The good news was that these were usually marriages of convenience, so she didn’t have to appear love struck every time Lachlan came into the room. Although, if she didn’t regain some control, that was exactly how she was going to appear.

  “You must have a lot of questions about your brother and me.”

  Elaenor shook her head. “Nay. The reason will be made plain with time. However, I am curious as to why you are awake at this hour. All in the castle have long since gone to bed.”

  That question was easy. “I couldn’t sleep.” Elaenor sat on the table. Her feet dangled over the edge. “I have the same problem. Besides, tonight there were only a few clouds blocking the stars. I did not want to waste it by sleeping.”

  Angus had said that Elaenor preferred books to people. Amber could understand what the young woman felt. Escaping into a fantasy world had been a big part of her life as a child. She scooted awkwardly onto the table beside Elaenor and almost fell off when her legs tangled in the yards of fabric she wore. She pointed to the telescope.

  “It’s a good night for watching the stars.”

  “How is it that you know of such things?” Amber shifted on the table to make herself more comfortable. She could always say she’d taken her students on a field trip to the observatory at the University of Washington in the twentieth century.

  And then help the locals build a witches’ bonfire for her. Or she could lie. Actually, a half-truth would work. She searched for the word used to describe Gavin’s tutor.

  “I’m a schoolmaster… ah, schoolmistress, and I read about it in a book.” She knew that women in Italy had taught during this time period: her only hope was that Elaenor knew it as well.

  Elaenor nodded as though the concept was not a new one to her. “Did you read that Copernicus published his theory stating that the planets revolve around the sun?”

  Amber guessed by the way Elaenor was staring at her that the comment was considered controversial in the sixteenth century. What the heck. She figured she could only be burned once at the stake. Amber adjusted her skirts. “I think I’ve heard something like that.”

  “He also believes the planets and stars are driven by spirits.” Elaenor looked down at her telescope. “What do you believe?”

  Amber let her breath out slowly. She’d be willing to bet that everyone steered dear of Lachlan’s sister. Elaenor went straight to the point. It was a little unsettling. She smiled. People like Lachlan’s sister were a lot more interesting. In order to answer the young woman’s question she should stick with the accepted theories of this time, so as not to bring down any suspicions on herself. Or she could eliminate a few superstitions. She chose the second option. Maybe it was time to take a few chances.

  “I believe the planets move around the sun. The other part seems a bit far-fetched.”

  Elaenor set her telescope aside, jumped down from the table and picked up a poker from the fireplace. She stirred the dying embers until they crackled into flames. “I think so, as well.”

  “Where did you learn so much about astronomy?”

  “Lachlan sent me to London with the Lady Marcail. They wanted me to develop interests outside of the books in my brother’s library. Instead, I disguised myself as a boy and attended classes at Trinity College.”

  Amber took a fresh look at Elaenor. The history books she’s read seemed to think women of this time period were content to sit at home, weaving tapestries until their fingers bled.

  “That's terrific. Who gave you the idea?”

  “The Lady Marcail. She was able to accomplish it when she decided to become a physician. I felt I could as well.”

  So, Marcail was a doctor. It explained Lachlan’s confidence, but a picture of leeches and bloodletting came to mind. Amber made the decision to change the subject. “How long did it take before you were discovered?”

  “Two years.”

  “And weren’t Marcail and your brother worried?”

  Elaenor shrugged. “Oh, Marcail discovered where I was right away and convinced Lachlan it would do no harm. She thought it was a grand adventure.” Elaenor lowered her voice. “I think it was what she had in mind all along.”

  Amber slid off the table, reached for a stick from a woodpile and tossed it into the hearth. She smiled. “What about Lachlan?”

  “That was different. He was a little sad. He thinks I should spend more time with people. But then, after talking to me for a time, he muttered something about warriors needing intelligent leaders and walked away. He feels responsible, somehow… but he is not to blame.“ Her voice trailed off and she stared at the fire for a moment before she continued. ”How can I waste my time with people when there is so much to learn? Knowledge is die real power. It can never be taken away from you.“

  Amber put her hand on Elaenor’s shoulder, suspecting the young woman was attempting to fill an emotional void in her life by immersing herself in books. It sounded as though Lachlan was trying to reach her, but he didn’t know how. “Do you feel alone?”

  “At times.” Elaenor’s mood changed abruptly and she turned her head to the side. “Do you smell something burning?”

  Amber looked at the brick oven. “It smells like burnt sugar.”

  “Oh, no, it is my shortbread.” Elaenor grabbed a long wooden paddle which hung on a hook by the wall. She opened the oven door, shoved in the paddle and pulled out a charred cake.

  Amber glanced down at the smoking confection. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to start again.”

  “I am always burning something. Everyone in the castle says it is because my mind is so full of ideas that I cannot concentrate on the things that are important.”

  “I think it’s your ideas which are important. You can always make more shortbread.”

  “I was baking it for Lachlan. It is his favorite.”

  Amber had a feeling that Lachlan would like the shortbread regardless of how it tasted, but it was important to Elaenor that it was perfect.

  “There’s time to make more before Una needs her kitchen.”

  “Do you really think so? Wait right here, I shall get more flour.” Elaenor disappeared through a doorway to the pantry.

  The candles flickered over the mantel and Amber saw a shadow in the stairway. It was probably King Arthur coming to finish his milk. Maybe the cat needed a little coaxing. She walked toward the stairs and recognized Lachlan in the shadows. She wondered how long he’d been standing there.

  “I would have thought your explorations under the castle would have satisfied you for the night, but as it happens, I am glad they did not.” He nodded in the direction Elaenor had gone. “There are not many in the castle who would befriend her. Few can understand a woman’s interest in learning.”

  “Probably because she knows more than they do, and that’s intimidating.” Amber could hear Elaenor rummaging around in the pantry. She motioned for Lachlan to follow her.

  He ducked under the doorway and inspected the burnt pastry. Leaning over, he broke a piece off and popped it into his mouth. As he spoke, his voice seemed to reach the
four corners of the kitchen. “Delicious. A sweet fit for the gods.”

  Out of the corner of her eye Amber saw Elaenor emerge from the pantry, carrying a sack of flour. A smile covered the young woman’s face. For all his gruffness Lachlan clearly had a soft spot for his younger sister.

  “Do you really think it is good? It looks and smells terrible.”

  Lachlan reached for another chunk. “Looks do not always tell the full story. I know of none better in the Highlands.”

  Amber watched the two of them. She’d seen Lachlan walk around the castle with his emotionless mask firmly in place, but he was a marshmallow when it came to his family. She doubted whether he even realized how much they meant to him. He was too busy being everyone’s protector. She suddenly thought of her brother, David. He was going to Washington State University and was not any better than she at keeping in touch. She remembered when she’d made cookies for them to eat at teatime. Her dog wouldn’t touch them, but David ate every last one. Of course, the next day he cut off one of her braids while she slept. Amber felt tears form in her eyes. She was going to miss David.

  A crash announced Angus’ arrival as he stumbled into the room. “May the gods take that blasted cat of Lady Elaenor’s. It tripped me.”

  Lachlan folded his arms across his chest. “More likely it was your own feet that caused you to lose your balance. It appears the whole castle is awake.”

  Angus tugged at his beard. “I have word of Subedei.”

  Amber noticed Lachlan’s instant change in mood. He grabbed the remaining shortbread and motioned for Angus to follow him. At the entrance he paused and turned around. He looked as though he wanted to say something, but instead he nodded and then was gone. Amber watched him leave. The impenetrable wall built around his emotions was an illusion. She wondered what he would be like without his barriers.

  Elaenor tugged on her sleeve. “Please, would you help me to clean up the cookroom?”

  Amber followed Elaenor’s gaze. It was lighter outside. In a few hours the kitchen would be in full swing. “Let’s get to work.”