The Pocket Watch (7 page)

His mother said, “I will have something sent up.”

Logan shook his head. “I’ll take it. We have things to discuss.”

“Logan, after her injury yesterday, she needs to rest, and ye shouldn’t be alone with her.” said his mother.

“I am her betrothed. No one should be scandalized if I spend time with her alone, and conversation won’t overtax her.”

“But yer foul mood might,” said his grandmother.

He had his answer—they were irritated with him. “By the saints, when did I become the villain?”

“Ye aren’t a villain, son, but it would seem neither is Margaret. Tread carefully with her.”

Chapter 6

Maggie had lied to the Carrs. She was not fine—every inch of her body ached and she was hungry. But while taking a cup of willow bark tea and lying down would provide a small bit of immediate relief, saying
cellphone
would fix everything. The sooner she found out what the consequences for them would be, the better.

She spent the next few minutes kicking herself for running away. Not only was it bad manners, she had thrown away an opportunity to learn more…and to have breakfast. On Sunday’s she, her dad, and Paige when she was home, went out to breakfast after Mass. She was thinking longingly of coffee, French toast and sausage—or better yet, eggs benedict—when someone knocked on the door. She called, “Please come in.”

Logan stepped into the room followed by Freya who carried a tray of food. Maggie watched in shocked surprise.

“Put the tray on the table, Freya.”

“Aye, Laird.” The girl did as she was instructed before asking, “Will there be anything else?”

“Nay, thank ye, ye may leave.”

“Aye, Laird.” She bobbed a curtsy and left, shutting the door behind her.

Logan gestured toward the table, “Ye need to eat. Please sit down.”

She nodded but didn’t move. “Thank ye.” When he showed no signs of leaving she said, “Ye don’t need to stay.”

“Aye, Margaret, I do. We have things to discuss. Sit down.”

She didn’t wish to raise his ire further so she sat. The tray held flat round bread, cheese, a large knife and a bowl of broth. There was also a jug and two goblets. It wasn’t eggs benedict but she didn’t care. She broke off a piece of bread, dipped it in the broth and nibbled on it.

Logan poured what appeared to be wine into both goblets before sitting in the other chair. Maggie decided this wasn’t the time to tell him she would prefer not to drink wine first thing in the morning.

“Would ye like some cheese?” he asked.

“Aye, thank ye.”

He picked up the knife, cutting off a large slice for her and another one for himself.

They ate in silence for a few minutes. Finally Maggie could stand it no more. She ate one last bite of cheese before folding her hands in her lap. “Thank ye for bringing this to me. It wasn’t necessary but I do appreciate it.”

He nodded at her before taking a drink of wine from his goblet. “Then if ye’ve finished there are a few things to address.”

Maggie imagined this is what it would feel like to be called before the principal—something that had never happened to her.

Logan considered her for a moment. “Margaret, I am going to ask ye one last time, are ye lying? Is this some game ye’re playing? Have ye decided that being a shrew wasn’t accomplishing whatever it is ye intended it to and ye’ve switched tactics?”

Maggie shook her head in frustration. “I am not lying. I do not remember any part of my life before the horse threw me yesterday. As for having some reason to play a shrew or pretend to have lost my memory, I don’t see what would be accomplished by either act.”

“Do ye not?” He clenched his jaw and looked away. “I believe ye, thousands wouldn’t.”

Maggie had never encountered someone who so clearly disliked her. “I don’t understand why we are getting married. It’s fairly obvious ye don’t like me, much less love me, and I can’t remember whether I love ye or not, but at the moment I’m thinking I probably don’t.”

His head snapped back towards her. “Love? Where the hell did that come from? Nay, I don’t love ye, and ye don’t love me. The betrothal was agreed upon years ago to solidify an alliance between our clans. Love has never had anything to do with it.”

Ah, this was the answer. If he cancelled the wedding and sent her home, she wouldn’t die under the Carr’s care. “I don’t wish to marry someone who doesn’t love me. I can’t imagine why I agreed to this in the first place. Let’s just call it off.”

He looked aghast. “Call what off?”

“The wedding. Just take me home and perhaps ye can find a bride who suits ye better.”

“Ye know full well the wedding is just a formality. The betrothal is binding. It can only be broken in extraordinary circumstances.”

The wedding is a formality?
“Clearly I didn’t know that about a betrothal but I’d say a bride with no memory qualifies as extraordinary circumstances.”

“So this is an act.”

That did it. Maggie lost her temper. “Oh, aye, ye’ve caught onto my clever little plan. I went riding with ye, staged an accident that could have killed me—in fact very nearly did—just so I could pretend to lose my memory and fool ye into setting me aside.” She flew to her feet and walked away from him, so angry she trembled. “I’m beginning to see why Margaret was such a shrew. Ye’re behaving like an eejit.”

Logan frowned. “What did ye just say?”

She turned to face him. “I said ye’re behaving like an eejit.”

His expression was deadly serious. “Before that.”

“I-I said…” her voice trailed off. She knew exactly what she had said in the heat of the moment and she also knew she couldn’t explain it.

“Ye said, ye were beginning to see why
Margaret
was such a shrew.”

“Did I?”

“Ye know ye did. What did ye mean by that?”

Maggie looked down at Margaret’s small clenched fists. How could she explain this?

He pushed for an answer. “What did ye mean, Margaret?”

She sighed, shaking her head. She didn’t know what to say but decided to rely on facts. “I have no memories of being Margaret. It feels like Margaret is someone else. I know nothing about her except what ye’ve told me, but based on that, I don’t like her. I don’t want to be Margaret and I suspect ye deserve a better wife.” Every word of that was true.

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 moment. “Until later,” then disappearing down the hall.