Page 39 of Beloved Enemy
“Ye dinna want to accompany him to Una’s?” He’d have thought a child’s injury, no matter how small, might be of concern to her. Surely it was, since she had in fact sought out Lachlan in the first place.
“Oh, Thomas is fine; the burn is hardly worthy of the name,” she admitted, then winked broadly, almost comically. “It’s actually Una who burns,” she added, her grin growing decidedly impish. “For your barber-surgeon, that is.”
Reid felt a flicker of annoyance at her words, realizing she had concocted a thin plot to put Una and Lachlan together, needlessly pulling Lachlan away from his work. It should have angered him. Hewantedto be angry but found that he couldn't quite muster it. There was a light in Charlotte's eyes, a spark of life that he hadn't seen in days. Her satisfaction with hermatchmaking was evident, and she seemed genuinely engaged with something beyond her own worries.
As quickly as it had evolved, his irritation melted away, replaced by a reluctant admiration for her spirit. He could hardly deny that this glimpse of Charlotte—playful, spirited, and even a bit devious—was a welcome change from the lass who seemed—had been!—until this moment consumed with worry for her own plight, her countenance often somber and nervous.
“Wink, wink,” she said playfully, though she only actually winked once. “I guess I’ll find something to keep myself occupied—away from Una’s house—for the next little while.” She paused and it seemed that something occurred to her. “Um, Lachlan’s a good guy, right? I mean, he seems the most friendly....”
“Ye want to ken—after the fact—whether he’s worthy of Una?”
She had the grace to wince a bit. “Well, basically, yes.”
Reid did not pester her more about her tactics, or her late-coming concern. Nor did he enlighten her about the unspoken divide between Lachlan and Una. Lachlan’s mother and Reid’s had been sisters, and Lachlan had once been destined for more—he was expected to inherit his father’s keep in the south before the English seized it at the start of the war. With his upbringing in the noble house of Bothal and the education that came with it, Lachlan was far from a simple barber-surgeon. Despite his current role, he still bore the name and standing to wed a high-born lady, not a humble farmer like Una. Knowing nothing would come of Charlotte’s well-meaning but misplaced matchmaking, Reid simply replied, “Lach is a guid man.”
Relieved and delighted, Charlotte smiled in response and bid Reid a good day.
He watched as she walked away, not retracing their steps but instead meandering along the loch toward the north. He foundhimself unable to look away, his eyes drawn to the gentle sway of her hips and the graceful rhythm of her walk.
Christ, he needed to warm the furs with someone—soon.
At Kingswood, finding release was no easy task. Out in the field, it was different; small towns and taverns offered women who, for a few coins, would satisfy his needs. But here, any interest he showed in a woman—especially if he sought to satisfy his physical urges—would come with strings attached. Marriage would be expected.
His thoughts shifted from that unwelcome reality back to the present, wondering where Charlotte was headed. A flicker of displeasure crossed his face as an unsettling idea took root.
Was she meeting someone? Could she be involved with the mysterious party Angus had mentioned seeing near his croft at midnight? It was too much of a coincidence, wasn't it? That an Englishman would suddenly start skulking around Kingswood so soon after Charlotte’s arrival?
With little thought but to know her destination now, Reid set out to follow her.
Chapter Eleven
Though ithadbeen five days since she had last felt genuine fear, Charlotte chided herself for quickly forgetting the dangers of this era. She had wandered far from where she intended and now found herself in a precarious situation.
Following the edge of the loch had seemed like a foolproof plan to avoid getting lost. After all, the loch should have served as a constant landmark. Yet her simple desire to circumnavigate the loch and see Urquhart Castle up close had turned into a grueling ordeal. She had trekked for nearly an hour before realizing that the castle was much farther away than she had anticipated—especially on foot. As she followed the loch northeast, she couldn’t find its end or a way to cross to the other side.
Turning back had seemed like the sensible choice. She regretted wasting time and felt guilty for abandoning Una for so long with nothing to show for it—unless her little scheme to thrust Lachlan into Una’s company had borne fruit.
But the return journey didn’t go as planned. Shortly after setting off, she heard the unmistakable sound of mounted riders approaching. The noise had startled her—her last two meeting with horses and men hadn’t gone so well—and had driven her off the path and into the dense forest to avoid being seen.
Panic gripped her as she imagined the riders were pursuing her, the sound of their approach seeming to grow louder with every beat of her racing heart. In hindsight, she wondered if the noise had simply been amplified by her fear. The stitch in her side forced her to pause, and she sought refuge behind a tree, desperately hoping the riders were simply Reid and his men or anyone from Kingswood who might recognize her and offer her a lift back to the village. But as she peered through the trees, thenoise of what seemed like dozens of horses gradually faded, and she was left alone in the quiet forest.
Possible misfortune averted, she’d gratefully surmised.
But then a new hardship had presented itself.
She’d apparently not run in a straight line, or the angle at which she had run was not the same as she pursued trying to get back to the loch so that she’d wandered for what seemed several hours, hopelessly lost in an ever-thickening forest of creaking pines, Loch Ness nowhere to be found. Daylight was fading fast, and with it, the last remnants of her sense of direction.
“Not that the daylight helped you up until now,” she grumbled to herself.
She’d tried, time and again, to listen for the loch, hoping for any sound of water to guide her. But the water had been too calm today, offering no assistance, no reassuring ripple or splash to steer her back.
Good Lord, how long might she wander these woods before she either found her way back to Kingswood or someone stumbled upon her? A shiver raced down her spine, raised not just from the cold creeping in with the dusk, but from the chilling realization that she was utterly alone out here.
Would anyone even bother to look for her?
She doubted it. Despite what seemed a blossoming friendship with Una, Charlotte couldn’t shake the nagging doubt that she mattered enough for anyone to notice her absence, let alone launch a search. Would Una care? Perhaps a little, but enough to rally anyone to a search...?
She was lost not just in time, thrust seven hundred years into the past, but now lost within that very past, wandering aimlessly with no guarantee of finding her way back. The vastness of it all threatened to overwhelm her, making her feel more insignificant and forgotten than ever before.
