A Time & Place for Every Laird (24 page)

And as Hugh had started to awaken, his hands roaming over her body
… desired.  Aroused.

Hugh had nuzzled her neck, whispering husky words she couldn’t understand as he pulled her tightly against him, against the length of his hard arousal.  Claire’s breath ha
d caught, her heart racing, as his hand had crept up to cup her breast.  Rolling her onto her back, he had lifted himself over her but had seemed to come fully awake then, staring down at her with some surprise.

As hot as his eyes had been, as fully aroused
as his body had been, Hugh hadn’t taken advantage of the moment.  Instead, he had levered himself away, muttering something about needing more firewood.

Now Claire was staring at those forgotten pages, not knowing what she had read
or even what book she held, wallowing in unrequited lust while Hugh stacked wood.  No, lust wasn’t the problem.  Hugh wasn’t even the problem.  She was.

There was no way Claire could continue
to deny that she wanted him.  She did.  Desperately so.

So what was she to do?  Give in?  Seduce him into bed?  Have a good, sweaty romp to relieve the tension? 
Oh, yes
, her body cried, and Claire shivered at the thought of Hugh looming over her. 

Then what
, her mind argued?

A door slammed and Claire jumped a foot off her chair as Hugh stomped into the room.  “I hunger,” he announced.

Don’t we all?
“Well, then, by all means, your grace, it must be as you demand, mustn’t it?”

Hugh frowned, assessing her from head to
toe.  “Yer angry.  I meant nae disrespect.”

With a sigh, Claire shook her head.  “I didn’t mean to snap at you.”  Looking at the clock, she was surprised to see that the morning had quickly faded and it was well past noon.  “What do you say we
have a quick lunch and get out of here?  I think maybe the cabin fever is making me a little edgy.”

“Cabin fever?”

“You know?  Like in the winter when you’re stuck inside for days on end and just can’t wait to get out again?” she explained.  “Just too many days of the same thing.  Don’t you just want to get away from here?”

“Nae
, not at all.”  Hugh’s brow furrowed more deeply. 

“I think you’re in denial.”

“Denial?”

“Y
ou’re hiding out here.”

“Sorcha, lass, we
are
hiding out, remember?”

But Claire’s nerves were too taut to soften to his gentle ribbing.  “You can’t just read about the world
; you need to see it for yourself.  Get a feel for it.  You’re not going to be able to ignore it forever.”

“
I’m nae ignoring it,” Hugh argued.  “In truth, I hadnae given it much thought.  I find the wealth of books and amusements tae be a verra satisfying way tae pass the time.  Barring a return to my home, I am more content in this place wi’ ye than I have been in a long while, and I could spend many a day here wi’out feeling yer cabin fever.”

“Well, I’m feeling it.”  And more.  More than anything, she just needed to get out. 
As flattering as his words were, Claire needed to see something else.  Someone else.  “Let’s go out and see a few sights.”

“Sights?”

“Sights,” Claire repeated with a definite nod.  “Why don’t you go clean up a little and we’ll go into town?”

Leaving the island had brought color to Sorcha’s cheeks and a light to her eyes.  Hugh thought perhaps she had been right about getting out for a wee bit, if it benefitted her so.  In his time, many long days in winter were spent indoors.  Time was occupied with estate business, games with the ladies of the household, and long hours reading books and newspapers as Hugh had done these past many days.  With so much to learn and a future to plan for, he hadn’t considered that this time would be any different.  Though he wasn’t familiar with the term “cabin fever,” he had felt what she described before, but usually after weeks rather than days.

Although, mayhap it wasn’t the isolation
Sorcha was truly running from, but Hugh himself and the feelings they roused in one another.  Though Hugh knew exactly what he wanted from Sorcha and had contemplated a dozen ways to achieve it, he still wasn’t certain that she was as confident in what she wanted from him.   She wanted him physically – that much was evident – and it made his blood roar each time she looked at him with desire in her eyes.  However, the hesitance was still there as well, and it had become more and more vital to Hugh that her ghosts were banished before they came together.

Hugh wanted her to come to him unreservedly, free of her past.  He wan
ted her spirit, her heart.  He wanted her love as well, Hugh acknowledged to himself as he leaned his hips against the ferry’s rail, watching not the city beyond but Sorcha as she closed her eyes and let the breeze caress her face as he longed to.  The wind threaded through her vibrant hair as his fingers itched to do the same.

Aye, he wanted her love but he wanted it all for himself
, and jealousy for a man long dead gnawed at his heart, the luckiest of men who had carried with him the love of this amazing woman when he had left this earth.  Hugh longed for the ability to reach into the heavens and steal it back. 

His body ached to possess her
so, he hadn’t even been able to actively partake of the liberties she had offered as a part of their new bargain.  Their kiss had been tortuous to end. It would have been better to avoid bodily contact altogether, and Hugh had made a terrible misstep the previous night by sleeping with her on the beach and waking with her in his arms.  Every fiber in his being had urged him to take, to plunder what she had drowsily offered.  Hauling a thousand cords of wood wouldn’t be enough to tire him to the point where that lust was exhausted.  Hugh was certain that if another kiss was taken, it would not end there.

Sorcha released a deep breath, the tension in her shoulders visibly seeping away
even as his constricted with self-restraint.  Turning to him, she smiled brightly, clearly more relaxed than she had been at the house.  Aye, she had needed this excursion, and perhaps he had as well even if he had not thought so.  The sexual tension between them, buried beneath humor and idle chatter, had been stretched nearly to a breaking point.

“You don’t mind that we didn’t bring the car, do you?” Claire asked as the ferry docked and the gangway was put in place to offload the passengers onto the pier.  The day was so fine and the touristy places so close to the ferry terminal that it had seemed a shame to drive when they could simply walk, so she’d left Goose parked back at the Bainbridge station.

“Nae at all,” Hugh replied as he guided her through the thick crowds with a gentle hand at the small of her back. 

As enjoyable as the ferry ride was, it always seemed that everyone was anxious to be the first one off, and they were jostled from all sides as the passengers converged on the narrow walkway that led down to the street.  “Do you mind if I run in here and grab a soda?” Claire asked, indicating the McDonald’s housed at the base of the station.

Hugh shook his head.  “I’ll wait here for ye.”

“Do you want anything?  A Diet Coke?” 

Hugh’s eyes narrowed at the blatant mischief in her voice.  “You get used to the burn,” she added with a grin and strolled away
, laughing, as Hugh rolled his eyes.

Inside, Claire placed her order and waited for it to be filled. 
Through the plate glass windows she could see Hugh waiting patiently for her, his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned his hips back against an iron bike rack.

What a pleasure it was to simply watch him, the way he moved,
the play of his muscles beneath the modern clothes and the shift of his thighs against his jeans.  While it was certainly nice to be out among people once again, the trip hadn’t done anything to curb her desires.  He was simply too appealing for his own good.  No one had the right to look so freaking hot in nothing grander than an untucked dress shirt and a pair of jeans. 

Unpeeling the wrapper from her straw, Claire poked it through the plastic lid of her cup and turned for the door.  Hugh straightened with a broad smile that warmed her to the core and stepped forward to meet her
… walking straight into the path of a pair of elderly women wearing Space Needle T-shirts and cropped floral pants.

The
more rotund of the pair began to rail at him immediately as Hugh bent to retrieve the bags they had dropped.  More than likely they were complaining about the rudeness of the locals toward the tourists or some typical nonsense, but as he stood, Hugh put a hand under his abuser’s elbow and bent his head low, speaking.

From
a distance, Claire couldn’t hear what he was saying, but a moment later the woman who had been near to a stroke minutes before was patting his cheek and smiling up at him while the other beamed just as brightly. 

Hugh glanced at Claire from the corner of his eye and winked.  Claire grinned back, shaking her head exaggerat
edly, dumbfounded that he had soothed them so quickly but more flabbergasted to realize that his charm had manifested itself as some sort of inside joke between them.  As if it had become an unspoken challenge to see how swiftly he could do it. 

In her experience, things like
inside jokes took time, sometimes years to develop.  It bespoke a comfortable familiarity she wouldn’t have thought could be cultivated so quickly.

What did it mean?  Did it mean anything at all
, other than demonstrate that they had spent too much time together?

“Are ye well, Sorcha?” Hugh asked courteously as he waved the now
-smiling women off, flashing his slashing dimples.

“Yes, I’m
… I’m just standing in silent awe of your amazing skills.  Raving harridan to cookie-baking grandma in less than ten seconds.  That has to be a new record.”

“It isnae as hard as ye might think,” Hugh shrugged modestly.  “Sincere apology, genuine compliments.  It is a skill cultivated and honed over the years to survive in the fickle courts of Europe.”

“So you’re saying anyone could be as charming as you with the right teacher?” she asked as he held out his arm gallantly with a slight bow and a raised brow.  Claire slid her hand into the crook of his arm with a smile.  “Yeah, I didn’t think so.”

Hugh laughed, a deep infectious rumble that couldn’t help but draw a like response
, and Claire joined him, falling as yet another victim to his tireless charisma as they walked up the busy street.  “So you’re the tourist—the visitor from out of town like those ladies back there—what do you want to do first?  We can take a harbor tour or take a ride up to the top of the Space Needle.”

Hugh’s eyes followed her finger as she pointed to the
tall building that he had recently described as little more than a disk on a tripod of legs. 

With a shudder, Hugh declined
, “To the top?  Nae, I hae nae desire tae be so far off the ground.”

Claire grinned.  “That takes away most of our options but don’t worry, I’ve got it covered.”

They walked several blocks more arm in arm while Sorcha pointed this way and that, describing the city of her birth.  The climb was steep in places, and when Sorcha stopped her fast-paced walk to point out a colorfully textured wall, Hugh was almost out of breath.  His breath caught for other reasons when she explained that all the different colored blobs were actually chewing gum stuck to the wall, and Sorcha took transparent joy in his revulsion at it after she explained to him what chewing gum actually was. Then they were off once more, heading uphill through a narrow alleyway, and Hugh thought if he were to be in this harried time for long, he would do well to work on his “cardio,” as Sorcha had encouraged him to do.

It
was
a hurried time, with hurried people anxious to get where they needed to be in all haste.  Though he doubted that he would ever fully grasp the need for such alacrity, Hugh couldn’t deny that he’d never been one to fall behind, literally or figuratively.  It would be yet another aspect of his new life to cultivate.

Bringing up the subject as they walked, Hugh was astounded to learn of the advancements in medicine that had been made since his time.  Mor
e incredible perhaps than anything else he had learned thus far was how far the practice had changed from the bloodletting and superstition of his time, to the organ transplants and mechanical replacements of hers.  It was truly a remarkable world, with much to appreciate, and Hugh regretted in many ways that he had not yet fully reconciled himself to the permanence of his situation.

T
hey soon reached an area bustling with people, their voices tumbling one over the other.  A sign brightly lit against the gathering dusk labeled it as a public market, and another just below further defined it as a farmer’s market.

As
busy as it was, for the first instance since coming to this time, Hugh experienced something familiar.  Perhaps not exactly the same, but the stalls of vegetables, meats, seafood, and flowers echoed the market days in Cromarty, and for a moment, Hugh felt a wave of homesickness unlike any he had yet experienced, made worse by the recently acknowledged certitude that he would never see it again.

It was a staggering thought
, that “never.”  It was easier not to think on it, which was perhaps why he hadn’t been successful in reconciling himself to his fate.  It was easier to look forward instead of looking back, but when the thought did take hold, as it did then, it was sickening to his very gut.  It brought to mind faces he would never see again.  A family lost to him by a scientific accident.  How many people could fathom mourning the loss of all their loved ones at once?  How could he explain the soul-crushing pain to anyone who still had even a single loved one?

Sorcha paused at one stall, buying a few apples
, but for the most part was content to browse the shops and save their dwindling funds.  She was as serene as he was turbulent. 

Never. 
Never.

“Hugh?” Sorcha paused with a hand on his arm.  “Are you all right?”

Hugh met her concerned gaze and forced a smile.  He would not burden her with his sorrow again. For all that she had done for him, Sorcha did not need any guilt for her inability to return him to his proper place.  Only her presence had softened the blow and was the balm he so desperately needed.  Also, despite her assurances that the women of this time welcomed a man with a softer side, it was not his habit to show one.  “I’m well.  There is much tae take in.”

“It’s good for you to get out,” she said.  “Good for both of us.  You know what might be fun?  Maybe when we’re done here we could take a cab over
to the Burke Museum.  It would be educational for you, too.”

“An art museum?”

“No, it’s a natural history museum that has exhibits on the local Native American tribes, and there is an exhibit on the Kennewick Man that I haven’t seen yet.”

“Who is the Kennewick Man?” Hugh asked, thankful for any conversation that would draw him away from his bleak thoughts.

“They found this skeleton at the bottom of the Columbia River almost twenty years ago,” Sorcha told him as they continued to browse the produce stalls.  “They dated the remains at almost nine thousand years old, from around 7500 B.C., and they weren’t Native American but something like Polynesian, I think.  Which would be weird, right?  It’s become something of a mystery, where he came from and how he got here.”

Several astonishing thoughts streamed through Hugh’s mind.  How did one
“date” the age of bones?  How did they know that they were not “Native American” in origin?  But the most profound was the age of the skeleton.  Seventy-five hundred years
before Christ
?  How was that even possible, when all theologians of his time agreed that the world had not even been created by then?  Most dated the time of Abraham at 4000 B.C.  “How is that possible?”

“Well, some think that there was a land bridge between Asia and North America at some point
…”

Hugh closed his eyes against a wave of exasperation
, not for Sorcha’s inability to grasp his true question but for the ignorance of his own people.  The world had changed in many ways, far beyond the medical advances of which they had spoken.  Invention had turned a manual world into a mechanized one.  Those changes, those advancements through science, he could understand.  But to consider that the theological foundations of mankind were no longer true was incomprehensible.  “Nae, lass, study of the Bible has shown that God created the world but six thousand years ago.  How can this skeleton be nine thousand years old?”

With wide eyes, she stopped midstride and blinked up at him.  “Oh
… oh shit.  When you read that
History of the World
book, didn’t you start at the beginning?”

No, he hadn’t.  Hugh’s interest had been in learning what had happened in the intervening years between his time and hers, not
in reviewing what he knew—or thought he knew—of the past.

“Maybe it’s better if you just stick with the
more religious timeline of existence for now,” Sorcha was saying in the wake of his silence.  “There’s nothing wrong with that.  A lot of people still believe that way.”

There had been so much to absorb these past days that Hugh hadn’t even considered how far
-reaching the changes had been.  His concerns had been over whether Scotland and his home had endured.  It had never occurred to him—a man of science!—to consider how the winds of change might have altered the broader scope of the world.  “Tell me there is still an accepted God,” he beseeched with feeling.

“Yes, there is still a God
… I mean, most major cultures still follow a religious deity.  Christianity is still the most widely practiced religion on Earth,” she offered in what Hugh had to assume was meant to be reassurance, but he wasn’t entirely comforted by her words.  “Wasn’t it a huge philosophical debate of your time to argue over the existence of God?  You did have atheists.”

“Aye,” he allowed.  “But debating and believing are nae the same.  What led the world tae show such falsehood in the Bible?  More science?”

“Apparently some science you could have done without,” Sorcha said, squeezing his arm consolingly.  “But most scientists generally agree that the universe is about four and a half billion years old.”

While Hugh tried to absorb that inconceivable number, Sorcha went on to explain the expression he had heard her use once before, the Big Bang Theory.  There were other terms like evolution, creationism, Darwin
, and survival of the fittest; descriptions of large reptiles called dinosaurs; and then something about monkeys that turned into men.  Australopithecus and Neanderthal.  “Hold,” he commanded harshly.  “Are ye saying that the populous genuinely believes that men were born of apes?”

“Evolution is a commonly accepted scientific fact,” she said.  “Most religions hold firm
in the belief that God created the Earth and put man on it just as he is now, but there is evidence that humans evolved over the course of millions of years from an ape-like being into the man or homo sapien we are today.”

Something akin to nausea roiled in Hugh’s gut.  Of all the things he’d had to absorb since his arrival in this bizarre future
, this had to be the most unpleasant to contemplate.  “I dinnae like tae think that my ancestors were apes.”

“I don’t think anyone does when they ponder the idea too deeply.”

Hugh snorted at that.  “And what do ye believe?”

“I do believe in God.  As far as creationism, I like to think that the seven days God took to create the universe are a relative thing in the big cosmic picture and that maybe God was the one who initiated the Big Bang,” Sorcha
said, then shrugged.  “Who knows?  Either way, there are still fights about it and how or if to teach it.  Just like in your time, wars are fought over religion every day.”

“How is it that what a man would like tae
see changed through time never does, and that which he wishes tae remain the same is all that does change?”

“Now that is a mystery, isn’t it?” she said
kindheartedly.  “I’m sorry to always be the one to deliver upsetting news.”

“There is nae one else I’d rather hear it from,” Hugh said with complete honesty.  “Ye hae been an excellent tutor these past days on all I will need tae know as well as those things I would rather not.”

“I try,” she shrugged modestly but hugged his arm to her breast with a pleased smile.  “There is still a lot to catch up on.”

“Which I shall do naught but anticipate
wi’ ye by my side.”  Thoughtless words, but Hugh had no desire to amend them even though they implied more than either of them had spoken of thus far.  In the weeks, months, and perhaps even years ahead, he did want Sorcha with him.  Picturing his continued discovery of the twenty-first century without her was nearly impossible, and not only because she was a fair teacher. 

Clearly she hadn’t given the future beyond gaining his freedom as much thought as he had
, since Sorcha merely stared up at him with an owlish expression that rounded her lovely violet eyes, her lips parted in surprise.  Hugh stroked a thumb across her lower lip before lifting her sagging jaw back into place.  “I know in the face of our plight we hadnae spoken of it, lass, but I would like tae hae ye wi’ me when I see the Scotland of this time.  Will ye come wi’ me?

Her mouth opened and closed again without even a whisper of denial or acceptance. Mayhap it had been a foolish thing to ask
, but Hugh was becoming more certain about what he wanted from a life in this new world, and Sorcha was undoubtedly a part of it.

Shouts echoed through the building, catching their attention
.  “What is the matter?” he asked with some concern, looking around for the source of the commotion.

Though the distraction wasn’t one of her own making, she was obviously eager to welcome it
, as she slipped her hand down into his, tugging him through the crowd until they came to a throng of people forming a large ring about one of the stalls.

“Ya-a-a-ah!”  Hugh could hear the long shout that had initially drawn his attention
, and with his height was able to see over the group as one man threw a large fish to another.  The crowd cheered and laughed with delight as yet another fish was thrown across the space.

“What madness!  Why do they do this?” he asked of Sorcha.  “This is a market.  Not a carnival.”

“It’s like a show for the tourists,” she explained.  “Don’t tell me your markets never had entertainment.”

“The marketplace is always filled with those who entertain,” he said defensively
, though he inwardly embraced the distraction from his morose thoughts.  “Jugglers, musicians, and the like.  However, they do not play with the food.”

Sorcha
sighed, shaking her head.  “You are a hard man to please.  I can only assume you’re hungry.  Come on.”

In truth, Hugh was a
n easy man to please, but he didn’t dare to say so to Sorcha.  Instead, he followed her out of the crowd and around the corner, where she motioned for him to wait while she went to a small vendor in the hallway.   In moments, she was back with a small brown bag.  She handed it to him with a smile, and Hugh could immediately feel the warmth seeping through the bag.  He raised a curious brow.

“
Try it, but if you don’t like this, I will know you’re truly insane,” she said mysteriously. 

Hugh shook his head with an exasperated grin and reached into the bag.  He withdrew a rounded piece of what looked like
a bread of some sort that was covered in what a quick touch of his tongue told him was sugar and exotic cinnamon, which he had only rarely tasted.  Encouraged, Hugh bit into the warm treat and was immediately moaning with delight when the sweet, crisp exterior gave way.  “Mmmmm.” He couldn’t help the childish expression of satisfaction as he finished the small pastry.  A quick look into the bag showed him nearly a dozen more, and Hugh took another with delight.  “I promised myself I wouldnae ask this again but what is this?”

“It’s a do
ughnut.  Deep-fried dough covered in sugar.  Are you going to share?  Or will I lose my hand if I reach into the bag?”