True Love's Song

TRUE LOVE'S SONG

Copyright September 1 2, 1993

The cottage in the glen was everything that the brochure from "Aunty Mary's Tea Time Travels" had promised. The distinct air of a Scottish romance that hung about the place like a highland mist tickled Jenny's New World fancy. Admittedly the Crown Derby china was both cracked and chipped, the linen sheets were threadbare, the thick plaster was peeling in spots and there was a distinct odor of dry rot that made her sneeze. But that simply gave the tiny Highland home a charming and historical feel. The main room was simply furnished with a thick oak table that had probably been in use before her own country won its independence from the British. Seating was limited: a plank bench beneath the table and two oak chairs pulled up before the hearth, but Jenny didn't expect to spend a lot of time on her backside anyway. The Highland Festival would take up most of her time for the few days of her vacation.

There was also a cupboard with the makings for tea and a mantel shelf decorated with the ancient Crown Derby, a set of pewter tankards and well-polished silver spoons. Some pictures of some scrawny Highland cattle, who looked like they had eaten bad grass, completed the decorating scheme. Jenny dumped her violin and backpack on the table, poked the peat fire into a little more of a blaze, picked up her clothes bags and headed for the other room.

The brochure had made rather a point of the fact that the bedroom had obviously served as a hay loft in earlier days. Jenny was glad to find it was served by a set of sturdy stairs set into the dark recesses of the front wall. The thought of having to schlep up and down a no doubt rickety, antique ladder on midnight forays to the small bathroom had not been attractive. Other than a faint smell of mold similar to the main room, the bedroom was pretty cozy. Jenny began to sing, "By yon bonny bank and by yon bonny brae, where the sun shines bright on Loch Lommond! Where me and me true love will niiivver meet agaiiiinnnn-". She stopped singing. Well that was for darn sure. Her true love, or at least the guy who had been passing himself off as her true love for the last seven years, was back in Chicago where he had found himself another woman. She'd first met Jim on an adventure travel retreat, rafting down the Grand Canyon. Jenny had been bowled over by his sense of humor, ability to adapt to unusual situations and his great biceps. She had been ready for true love's kiss and Jim had supplied that and more. They were passionately involved by the second night of the trip.

Jim's idea of true love was wild infatuation, followed by, what had seemed to be, a comfortable ease. Finally even the ease was gone when her husband had announced his intentions to move in with this new lady he 'loved now'. Divorce papers had been signed and filed and she was footloose and fancy free. Wasn't she? Either true love wasn't all it was cracked up to be or else there was more to it than good shoulder muscles and a fun, can-do attitude.

Jenny sighed and threw herself down on the bed. There were two huge pillows filled with down and covered in lace-edged, linen cases embroidered with white roses and purple thistles. The top sheet was embellished in the same design. It was hard to be melancholy over lost loves, who maybe never had been true loves, when you had really gorgeous bed linens under your chin. And besides, in the secret fastness of her heart, Jenny had a feeling about this trip. A feeling there was someone waiting for her here. Someone who knew more about love than infatuation. She knew there was something out there for here waiting with a deep thread of intensity and rightness.

Jenny plumped the cushy softness of the pillows behind her head. The clip in her hair caught on something and she sat up higher to wrestle it free from the small, lace-edged linen curtain that hung just above the bed. She drew back the material to find a tiny paned window with a beautiful view of the small lake in front of the house."The loch," she reminded herself."Remember, to think loch." Yon loch definitely included a 'bonny bank' or maybe it was a 'bonny brae'. No doubt someone at the festival would enlighten her as to the difference. Since she'd arrived in late afternoon, the loch had transformed itself into a silver puddle of fairy glass shimmering faintly in the dying light of the sun. In the faint glow of dusk, she could just make out a pile of rock on the far side. A ruin maybe? She hoped there would be time to investigate Jenny finished her inspection of the cot and began to unpack.

There was an ancient looking wedding chest at the foot of the bed replete with beautiful carvings of red highland deer. She pressed her fingers over its hoary ridges, and hoped it hadn't been made within the last six months in some impoverished country by a fellow who made ten cents an hour. Her duffel still packed with all her smaller bits and pieces intact fit neatly inside it with space to spare. Jenny peered around the room for a handy antique armoire or at least a modern day closet but nothing presented itself. She hung her historically correct festival costume of copper colored overskirt and bodice, linen shift and dark green petticoat on the hook by the door and then tucked the empty garment bag in the chest with the duffel. Her latest purchase was peeking out of the bag inside. She pulled it out of its wrapping and spread it out over the bed. Jenny wasn't sure if the beautiful shawl, in a Ross hunting plaid woven in thick green and white strips with a counterpoint of thin red lines, would be accurate with her vintage-style outfit, but there would be plenty of costume judges tomorrow who would be glad to let her know, no doubt in patronizing tones, if it wasn't. She could always tuck it in her lunch pouch. It was fun to have a real piece of Ross tartan even if she knew that they were just mass produced for tourists, and that probably one out of ten people in her country could probably claim descent from the same clan as she did. Even so it was fun to be in the land of her ancestors.

Jenny pulled out the beautiful white cotton batiste nightgown that her sister had given her for her birthday. The shift-like garment had never seemed appropriate for her bed-sitter apartment back home and she'd been saving it for a special occasion. Here in the homeland of her foremothers, okay some of her foremothers, its deep flounce, low neck, and tucked bodice were exactly right. Exactly right but a little thin. Jenny pulled her new shawl off the bed and draped it around her shoulders before she went down the stairs. There was an tiny, ancient spirit stove in the sitting room and she managed to get it lit and brew herself a cup of tea. With tea, a good romance novel and a fire - blazing or not- she was all set for her first evening of Scottish romance.

Jenny had bought a good stock of Scottish romances from Amazon.com before she left town. Their covers varied from roses and thistles draped with Campbell plaids to partially dressed men and women who were supposed to be kissing but really looked like they had just finished an intense workout. She was partial to the ones with people because the women's costumes always intrigued her. Just how exactly did they keep those dresses, which were usually sliding nearly halfway down their chests, from falling off their generous bosoms? And why was there always a long rip up the side of their skirts? Was it all those thistles? Jenny bet that the costume police at the festival would have been all over her if she had worn anything like one of those outfits, but she loved them anyway. She liked the pictures of the men too.

They invariably showed a lot of skin around rippling, muscular torsos and strong thighs. The dark waving, or red curling, well tended hair that hung nearly to their shoulders just invited her fingers to serve as a comb. The heroine and hero always appeared to be well-bathed and highly deodorized as well. Again not historically correct but appealing to a modern woman.

Jenny loved the nice, predictable stories. Woman meets man. Woman finds man irritating. Woman shows man why she is not a run-of-the-mill weak, submissive woman because her Highland roots have given her spirit. Man shows woman why he is not a run-of-the-mill, domineering slob. Woman and man have exciting escapades and end up together in bed, or wallowing in the heather, against their better judgement because they just can't help themselves. She choose Highland Heroine , because the man on the cover reminded her of one of her favorite fantasy warrior television shows that had recently gone off the air. He was an extremely well-built guy with smoky eyes, and jet black shoulder length curling hair. The woman was also her kind of gal. She had a real figure, no Skinny Minnie, and hair similar to her own reddish-brown locks. The pair, who looked like they must have just finished a triathlon in 18'th century garb, were leaning back weakly against a pile of rocks amid a field of white heather.

Jenny was pleased to find that Fionna was already pulling off Charlie's clothes by chapter two. Of course, it was because he had been badly stung by bees. Surely there wouldn't be action in the heather this soon? But she was wrong. 'Atta girl, Fionna!' she thought. By chapter four, after a five day relationship, Fiona and Charlie had managed to indulge their sensual passions in more varied ways then Jenny had achieved with her ex-husband in seven years of marriage. Charlie was running his fingers suggestively up Fionna's spine. Fionna was responding with 'a deep yearning in a womanly place she'd never dreamed of' when there was a knock on the cottage door. Regretfully, Jenny tucked Highland Heroine in the wide pocket of her batiste nightie and wrapped her shawl around her shoulders. Just outside the tiny window there was a figure with a large tray. Because of the time difference Jenny had stopped off for an early supper on her drive in. She'd entirely forgotten the 'simple evening repast' the brochure had mentioned. Well, she'd paid for it after all.

Jenny opened the door and a tall woman proceeded past her, plunked the tray down on the table and turned around to appraise her guest silently. In the fire light Jenny could see that her hostess stood probably six feet tall. She might be anywhere between forty and sixty, a deep bosomed woman with a straight back and curly red hair. Her reddish, rough skinned and wrinkle lined face proclaimed outdoor living. She assessed Jenny for another moment in silence from behind green eyes.

"Ah see you've found the cot, key and all." It wasn't the accents of Brigadoon, but it wasn't Chicago either.

"Yes, thank you. It's lovely."

The woman held out a work worn palm."Ah'm your landleddy Eilidh McTaggert. Ah live just doon the path along the loch thair."

Jenny smiled and put her hand out."McTaggert? My great-grandmother's maiden name was Taggert. I suppose you hear that a lot around here. Highland roots are very fashionable in America.""

Eilidh smiled, her eyes glanced over Jenny's new shawl."Aye. I've niver seen so many shoots come out o' one root. All my ancestors kin seemed to have made it to America after the clearances. Apparently they had nuthin better to do there than breed bairns. Must have been a dozen Americans who claim some kind of descent from the Ross here in the past month. And that's just this little house alone. Weel, "

She smiled again at Jenny, showing a set of fine white teeth." why not? Though there's a lot o' fairy stories told aboot the highlands, there's much truth also. You've enough red in your hair to make it clear where you're great-granny came from. 'Welcome hame', I always say."

Jenny bet she did and that she made a tidy profit saying it too. Those Highland fairy stories could go a long way towards paying the bills. 'Aunty Mary's' did not come cheap."Well, I'm her to indulge in a further bit of fantasy. I've come for the Highland Festival, you know." She nodded at her violin case on the table."I'll be playing with a group of my friends all just a tiny bit less Celtic than me. Mary's family is 'Polowski'. George's parents named him 'Mohammed Kianto' and Elena speaks fluent Tagalog."

Eilidh nodded at the violin."Music crosses all borders. I'll look forward to hearing your group play. You'll be glad to know the village turns out in full kilt for the festival. We all enjoy getting into the sprit of the occasion. Meself, I'll be wi' the dancers."

"I can walk there from here, right?"

"It's a good bit of walking around the loch."

"I don't much like driving and I do like to get any exercise I can. The views look gorgeous and we're scheduled so tightly at the festival that I'm afraid it may be my only chance to really see the area."

Eilidh nodded."Aye you can follow the footpath around the loch past me house and keep going. It's aboot two miles further on the far bank. You canna miss it."

Jenny laughed."Famous last words. Now I know I should take the car." She headed towards the door."Can you point across the la- the loch and show me about where I ought to end up?"

For such a large woman, Eilidh could move fast. She planted herself in front of the door."You dinna be wanting to go frae the hoose at this time o' night, Miss Taggert."

"It's not Taggert anymore. But anyway, please call me Jenny."

"Well then Jenny, perhaps I should have thought to tell you before. I niver thought of you goin' outside tonight. It's verra cold outside after the sun sets. The wind whips op something terrible from the loch." Her 'terrible' had a beautiful round rolling 'r' that Jenny wished she could reproduce at the festival.

"Oh I'm used to winds off the lake. I'm from Chicago you know. I'm used to the cold and I'm used to walking." Jenny began to make her way around Eilidh but was dissuaded once more from her goal."Mrs. McTaggart, please! I enjoy walking and I really do get lost easily."

She looked up at the other woman's face and saw that she had gone white."Mrs. McTaggert is there some other reason that I don't want to walk the path around the loch?" Visions of mass murderers and serial rapists flashed through her head. Not the sort of thing 'Aunty Mary's Tea Time Travels' would want to advertise. Jenny wished she could get a good view of the door lock. Was there a deadbolt?

"Aye." Eilidh McTaggert relaxed her stance and sat down heavily on one of the chairs by the fire. She motioned with one arm to the other chair."Sit ye doon."

Jenny sat. Some vacation. Now she was going to find out that her happy highland holiday was no different that staying in her apartment at home. Lock the door. Carry a shrieker. Drive through the dangerous areas. Like music, violence apparently crossed all borders.

"Do you know what today is, dearie?" Jenny knit her brows. This little talk wasn't going exactly the way she'd imagined.

"Today? Sure. It's Halloween. Back home I'd be filling up a bowl with tamper proof candies and passing them out to the one hundred kids and their friends who live in my building." She relaxed as she realized what was undoubtedly going on here."Oh! Should I have stocked up at the market on the way in? I didn't realize there were children around here. Will I get egged if I go outside without any goodies?"

Eilidh shook her head."Aye indeed, it's All Hallows Eve. And you dinna need to worrit yerself aboot bairns playing trick on ye. There's no dwellings nearby here exceptin' me own. But still ye must not be going out of the hoose tonight. A young woman like yourself will no be safe with the spirits of the auld ones aboot."

Jenny noticed that when she was in the mood Eilidh really got into the Gaelic inspired speech patterns. Obviously the older woman enjoyed indulging in the 'spirit of the occasion' as much as any of the other villagers. Though inside she was shaking with laughter Jenny tried to assume a profoundly respectful look. She was definitely getting her money's worth from the cottage in the glen.

"I see. The spirits of the auld ones are on the make." She assumed an innocent air."But why aren't you at risk, Mrs. McTaggert?"

Eilidh shook her head sorrowfully. Jenny thought it was one of the best scenes she'd witnessed in a long time."A lass like you who hasna born a babe, you're just what they'll be looking for. Whatever you do, you musna put your head oot the door tonight. If you do, your soul could be trapped between here and the next day."

"Oh, I see. And who would release me from the trap? True love's kiss maybe?"

Eilidh looked at her with disgust."You take too many liberties with that which you dinna ken. Between All Hallows Eve and sundown on All Saints Day your soul would be trapped. And, aye, perhaps it would be true love that makes the choice for ye. It takes a great strength to return from the land between the two worlds."

She whirled suddenly from her chair."I've warned ye twice. More I canna do. I hope you'll keep your wits about ye and stay in the cot. If you do, I'll be seeing you at the festival tomorrow. If not - then, for the sake of your great-granny and mine, I'll tell you all I can to help you back. All I know is that, whatever you do dinna cross the waters into the other world. Once ye do, ye can niver return." Her voice shifted and more she was nothing more than the hospitable landlady. She drew back the curtain and pointed across the lake to something that looked like a great lump of stone.

"There are the ruins of the castle. That's where you'll need to walk tomorrow, if you wish it. As I said, you canna miss it."

Before Jenny could say another word, Mrs. McTaggart slid out the door and shut it tightly behind her. Jenny stood silently listening to the crunch of the woman's feet on the rocky path, fainter and fainter until there was only silence. A frission of fear shot up her back. She looked at the door. There was both a lock and a bolt. She shot the pair home. Crazy or not, nothing beyond the direst emergency would have taken her out the door of the cottage.

The curtain was still up and she drew it firmly across the window. As she did, she became aware of the appetizing odor of food and crossed the room to investigate the contents of the tray. Jenny turned her back on the night outside the cottage, drew the bench up to the table and found that her early supper was nothing more than a memory. She was glad to see that the 'light repast' would have been a full meal in any restaurant back home. There was a thick barley soup flavored with chunks of mutton, slivers of carrot and earthy mushrooms. The soup was accompanied by a basket of wholemeal scones, fresh butter and, what looked like, homemade lemon marmalade. She wondered if the deep black grapes were local or imported from France. No matter the source, they were delicious- small and sweet. Jenny hadn't realized how hungry she was. Maybe it was the long airplane trip or the bracing highland air. Whatever her excuse, she ate the entire contents of the tray and licked her fingers clean before she settled back in before the fire with Fiona and Charlie. She was surprised how comfortable a wooden chair with arms could be in front of a peat fire after a full meal and a long day. Her shawl slipped down to form a comfortable cushion and Fiona and Charlie were lost in a cloud of Highland mist. Worn out by the excitement of her day's travels, Jenny slept.

Full moonlight woke her. She cracked one eyelid. The light had an unearthly quality, somewhere between the edge of awareness and bright day. She opened her eyes further and decided the odd effect of the moonlight was simply due to the way it streamed in between the thin linen of the elderly curtain over the front window. Sleep and the soothing quality of the moon's radiance had eliminated her nervy response to Eilidh McTaggert's erie warnings. Her nap had left her wide awake.

Jenny wasn't too surprised. She was prone to a snooze after supper and a second wind in the late evening. She pulled her shawl about her shoulders, pulled back the curtain near the front door and stared out over the wind-whipped loch. There were bits of froth on the glass where the gusts had sent glistening drops from the loch dashing against the cot. A Halloween orb hung full and orange over the hills that circled the water. Looking out at the clear, silver, luminescence that shown from the loch, with a refreshing nap behind her to give her a second wind, it was easier to accept that the older woman's story about spirits and other worlds, was nothing more than Highland hype. She pressed her nose against the cool glass and watched the silver-tipped waves and white foam spray up against the path and occasionally fly on the other side of her face. She'd watched waves beneath a shimmering moon over Lake Michigan more times than she could count, but there was something different about this moon and this lake. Something she couldn't place. She became aware of a sound just above the noise of the wind's gusts. It was almost like a man singing in the larch trees that grew at the loch's edge. Like the moon the song had an unusual quality, she couldn't quite put her finger on.

For a musician the lure of another music maker is impossible to resist. In a moment Jenny had plucked her violin from its case, thrown back the doors locks, headed out onto the wooden porch, and began to answer the song with one of her own. She didn't care that the wind pulled at the woolen shawl around her shoulders or what the unknown singer, if indeed she wasn't imagining his voice, would think seeing a crazy American woman, dressed only in a thin nightgown and shawl, playing wild violin chords in the middle of the night. She wasn't sure what she played when she first arrived on the porch, only that it was a response to the enchanted song she heard faintly through the trees. She called and he answered.

The song came louder and louder and she was sure he would be with her on the porch soon. Then the wind began to die down and Jenny was alone, sweating with the effort of her bowing. Though in her heart she was sure she had heard him, her rational self told there was no singer in the trees. Eilidh McTaggart had said there was no one living between here and the castle and the chances of someone driving so far off the main road to stand in the woods and sing, even on All Hallows Eve, were slim. She had simply answered the highlands call in the way closest to her heart.

No doubt she was responding to nothing more than the rush of the wind, lakeshine, and the magic of Scottish moondust. She grinned to herself. Well, what better reason to be out here? After all, how often would she have the chance to play beside the very loch where Mary Taggert had once walked? Calmer now Jenny began to draw her bow across the strings in the familiar tune of 'Blue Bonnets Across the Border' and followed up with the probably hack, but still delightful tune, of 'Loch Lommand'.

She went on to play all her favorites: 'Annie Laurie' 'Jock o' Hazledean', 'Yellow Haired Laddie', 'Down Amang the Heather', 'Birks of Aberfeldie' and every camp tune she could think of until her wrists and finger tips were sore. Her second wind was a thing of the past. She was refreshed and truly tired now. Jenny turned off the porch and into the cottage, locked the door and slipped her instrument back into its case.

She made sure to bank the fire and then trailed up the stairs to dream of highland mists amid the roses and thistles that bedecked her linen sheets and pillows.

Jenny pulled back the curtains for one last glance at the loch before she settled in for the night. A warm room, a soft bed, and a quiet house. Sleep was not going to be a problem. Something rustled on the porch. She sat up with at start and her head banged against the window. All was suddenly quiet below. She laid back down.

Of course it was the wind kicking up again, blowing some and then settling. Jenny was accustomed enough to living by water to understand the vagaries of lakeside winds. It could blow off and on all night. She closed her eyes and pulled the blankets up to her chin. She was just on the edge of sleep when she thought she heard a metallic click below stairs. But once again everything was silent. Probably nothing.

She drifted back towards sleep. Surely that wasn't the sound of softly booted feet coming slowly up the stairs, hesitating at every step. She was too dazed with sleep to believe it. The tiny house was probably settling.

Jenny was already asleep and dreaming that she was Fiona, when the door opened quietly for Charlie MacDonald. He stood for a moment and stared at his prize. Since he'd first seen the lass on the house steps he'd had the strange feeling that another presence was helping him. The door's latch had turned without resistance, no stairs creaked beneath his feet and the woman was already sound asleep. Surely he was lucky for she was not only young and strong looking but a beauty as well. The unseen presence seemed to push him forward. He tiptoed over to the bed and peered down at her. He meant to simply wake her gently and tell her she was his captive, but somehow, without meaning to, he found himself sliding one hand behind her unresisting head, bending over her bow shaped mouth and kissing her full and deep.

The kiss came at just the right moment in Jenny's dream sequence. She was standing knee deep in a field of white heather. Charlie-the-hero was running his hands up the slit in her flowing skirt and bending her back over his free arm with his strong, manly torso in preparation for The Cover Kiss. The kiss was more real than any dream kiss she could remember. First the hero's lips met her own gently, then become firmer and more assured as she responded to his light touch.

When the woman gasped for air Charlie shut his eyes, gave her a chance to take a big breath and waited to see if she was going to scream. When there was no sound he opened his eyes to seeing her still laying there with a smile on her lips and her eyes still closed. It was hard to believe but the lass didn't seem at all vexed with her captor. Her lips were slightly parted. Charlie skimmed back down over her body and took up where they'd left off. This time he slid his tongue gently between her lips and was met with an answering tongue. The woman probed his mouth deeply and he began to sweat. Charlie hadn't meant to take advantage of the lasses situation. He'd planned to woo her well before he did more than kiss her. After all he wanted no unwilling wife. Still she didn't seem to be at all unwilling as his body was letting him know in no uncertain terms. No McDonald ever passed up an opportunity.

Charlie pulled back the sheets and slid in beside his soft and inviting bride-to-be.

This was definitely one of her better dreams. Jenny could really feel the warmth of the heros' hands beneath the hem and neck of her shift. And he seemed to have all the skills that qualified him for hero-hood: powerful thighs that pressed around her own, strong - yet gentle- hands running up and down her body and a well-muscled torso that was warm and responsive beneath her probing fingers. Jenny turned slightly in the bed and began to run one hand through his curly shoulder length hair and the other beneath the material of his loose shirt. Charlie practically purred with delight. He slid his hand deeper beneath the neck of her gown until he located one large warm breast. She gasped with pleasure and he set himself to the task of coaxing more of those appealing noises out of her throat. He'd never thought wooing a bride away from her people could be so easy or so pleasant! Keeping one hand moving around an erect nipple, Charlie lowered his mouth and began to run his tongue around the thin material covering the other breast. The woman's breathing came faster than ever now and she began to slowly spread her legs beneath his now aching need.

His groin was throbbing and Charlie wrapped his legs tighter around the woman's voluptuous hips to heighten the sensation and felt his toenails scraping her thigh."Sorry," he breathed.

Jenny jerked suddenly awaked. This wasn't the voice of Fiona's dream lover. She opened her eyes. In fact it wasn't a dream at all. She- not Fiona- was making love with an unknown and uninvited man in the bedroom of her highland vacation cottage. One of his hands was still caressing her left breast and his mouth was doing strange and wonderful things on the other side. She pulled her legs together and rolled away.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?"

The man pulled dreamily away from her breasts and sat up. After one look at her face he unwrapped his strong legs from around her waist and sat up to face her. Jenny tried to ignore an inner wave of protest when he removed his body. She also had to ignore a sharp intake of breath when she saw how good looking the man was.

Though his hair was burnished golden brown instead of black, his clothes more mundane and his skin lightly freckled, still he had the rugged good looks which could have easily placed him on the cover of Highland Heroine.

Charlie tried to look sheepish but he was afraid he was still smiling. Obviously the woman had no idea that her shift was open to her waist giving him a delicious view of erect, rosy nipples in the moonlight."As to me name, it's Charlie McDonald. And as to what I'm doin' here, I thought it was as clear to ye as it is to me. I'm makin' ye me bride."

Jenny gulped."You're bride? Where I come from people usually get married before they- well, actually most of the time they don't get married first, but at least they talk to each other before they hop in bed together. I don't even know what you're doing here or who you are."

"Sure, I told you. I'm Charlie McDonald and I've come to kidnap ye for me bride."

Jenny gasped."I think you better put your clothes on Mr. McDonald."

Charlie looked rueful."You did seemed to be interested, lass."

She colored."I didn't know you were real. I thought you were a dream."

"I'm better than a dream, lass. I'm your husband. Or at least I will be as soon as I've got you safe home to the islands. You'll nae mair be a Ross. It's a McDonald you'll be by tomorrow night."

Jenny moved away from the handsome man and slid her feet out of the bed. She noticed his gaze moved with her. Looking down she realized that she was practically naked from the waist up. She moved her arms across her chest and reached for the shawl she draped over the head of the bed. As she grabbed for it she knocked her trip brochure off the nightstand. It fell open to a description of the festival schedule. 'You'll be accommodated in your own highland cot where you'll be served with a light repast and given our special highland greeting. ' Some greeting! "I suppose you're local?", she asked moving away from the man who was now sitting quietly on her bed.

"I'm no Ross- I'm a McDonald! He said pointedly. It's true I wasn't planning to climb in your bed. But I saw you playing your violin and your passion made me blood run wild. Then I came up to steal ye awa and you looked so much like you wanted a kiss. What with one thing leadin' to another - well I'm sorry lass. I dinna mean to push for mair than ye were willin' to give. Will ye forgive me?"

"I suppose it's part of your job to sneak in here and pretend you're a reiver here to -" She stopped. The man had obviously overstepped his role and knew it. He looked abashed and he wasn't taking advantage of the situation anymore. Besides, she had to admit that she had responded to his caresses. Jenny decided she had better forgive as well as forget what had happened.

Unfortunately, her body was still sending out treasonous signals. She would certainly try to forget as soon as things calmed down inside.

Jenny smiled."I forgive you if you'll forget you saw me so up close and personal."

"I dinna say I'd forget what I saw," he smiled, "its a pretty sight you were with your beautiful bare bosom heaving so and your legs thrashing about beneath mine."

Jenny colored."Let's forget the narrative detail, shall we? I'll forget you messed up your job so far but don't push it. What's supposed to be on the schedule next?"

"You know, my special highland greeting. You're supposed to have jimmied the lock on my door and steal me away some place? I imagine we'll end up at the other side of the lake, I mean the loch, just in time for the festival in the morning. Do you wrap me in your pladdie and carry me shrieking and kicking down the stairs, or do I get to walk?"

He looked confused."I must admit I thought I'd maybe have to put you over my shoulder, but if you're willin' to come on yer own, I'd be obliged." He eyed her generous form."You've a beautiful form but you're no exactly a featherweight."

Jenny laughed."What a gentleman!" She put her feet over the side of the bed."I suppose I should put my festival clothes on?"

She pointed to the costume hanging on the peg.

"Oh, aye. I don't expect to carry you hame in your shift. I'd be afraid some other lad would see what a prize I'd stolen and try for ye himself."

"Are you always such a charmer? Or is it just part of the act?" Jenny pulled a bra and pair of panties out of the chest and took them behind a screen along with the linen shift from her costume.

Charlie looked confused again but he kept his peace. He had heard that women weren't entirely sane for a bit after they were stolen away. At least the lass was willing to go. Despite the encouragement he'd received at home he had promised himself he'd not take an unwilling woman. She had put him out of her bed but he wondered why she wasn't more concerned about his being there. She seemed to talk as though she were planning to go with him.

"You're quite agreeable then to goin' with me? Are there so few lads about?"

Jenny listened entranced. Like Elidah McTaggart his words slipped back and forth from the Gaelic-inspired English to a more standard form of the language. She pulled the shift over her head and laughed."Few? Well, there are plenty of men at home but none with any interest in me. My husband-"

He choked."You're married! "

"No, not anymore."

Ah the girl was a widow. It explained why she was here alone. An unhappy thought entered his head."Ye've no bairns aboot? I couldna take a woman from her child."

"No. My husband wasn't ready for children." She adjusted the cloth around her hips and stepped out from behind the screen to pull on her skirts.

He watched silently while she worked into her way into the green petticoat, heavy skirt and bodice. The girl spoke in a somewhat daft way but she was bonny and seemed to want him. Charlie was content to love her.

Old time style or not, Jenny remembered she was going to need her money and credit cards the next day. She dropped her wallet into her festival pouch and strapped it around her waist.

The man silently handed her the leather shoes she placed on the mat by the door and she slipped them on.

"OK, I'm ready. Oh wait, my shawl. Do you think it's p. c. ?"

"Will it be approved? By the costume police I mean?"

"It keeps you warm?"

Charlie picked up the shawl and took her arm."We'd best be goin'. We've a long trip to make before daylight."

He hesitated going down the stairs. If the woman was clever this was the time she'd hie off for help. He kept a hand on her arm going down the stairs, but she seemed to go as gladly as any willing bride. It seemed strange but Charlie McDonald was never one to question the ways of providence. They stopped at the bottom of the steps and he took her hand in his.

"What's your name, lass? Ye're Christian name I mean."

He kissed her lightly on the cheek and touched her hand briefly to his own cheek."Well met Jenny."

He went over to the table, picked up her violin case and tucked it under his arm.

"I look forward to hearing you play on many a cold night to come."

Jenny smiled over at Charlie trying to ignore the wild beating of her heart. His fanciful images of a Highland rogue kidnapping a woman of a neighboring clan, even they were just a simple bit of historical reenactment fun, fired her imagination. The Highland rogue was in truth a bit of a scoundrel, but he hadn't pressed her beyond what he thought she was offering. And here she was stealing off with him now. She in her full skirt and green petticoat and he dressed in a loose shirt and plaid with a pair of pistols and a dirk at his waist. She didn't mind playing the game. If he were scoundrel enough to hint at their other activities to any of her friends at the festival, and she didn't think he was, she would simply pretend it was part of his act. She followed Charlie out the door, her hand once more lightly clasped in his and her long skirts trailing in the grass.

His horse was still standing patiently, cropping bracken, in the larch grove behind the cottage.

Charlie hurriedly stowed Jenny's violin away while Jenny stood stock still and stared as though she'd never seen a horse before. This was a bit much, she thought, even for the promised 'Scottish Romance' of the brochure.

"Come on lass. Ye can ride pillinn."

Still she stood unmoving. He mounted the beast and arranged the pillion pad behind him.

"Jenny, come on. We must be away frae here. 'Tis most likely your kinsman will see us aboot now." He looked down into her face. The lass acted as though she'd never seen a horse before. He reached down and swung her up behind him. At last she seemed to regain her senses for she wrapped her arms immediately about his waist and clung like a limpet. Her soft bosom pressing against his back did terrible things to his desire for her. Mayhap she'd be willing to celebrate their nuptials prematurely once they were safely away from her clan lands. For now they must ride.

Jenny had never been scooped boldly up by a man mounted on a horse before.

The strength of his arms and the adventure of sitting astride the great beast with

a leg on either side and her long skirts flowing about her, more like Fionna than Fionna herself, took her breath away for a good minute. She was still savoring the romance of the situation when Jamie touched his foot to the great creature beneath them and they took off. There was a rush of wind around their bodies as they galloped through the woods towards the sea and an exhilarated Jenny laughed and pressed her body closer to the man in front of her. This must be what her favorite novels termed 'hell for leather'. It was glorious. How could mankind have ever given up this magnificent form of transport for the smelly, oily machines they rode in today? Once more she sent out a wordless prayer of thanks to 'Aunty Mary' and her 'Teatime Travel'. She'd certainly have to post an excellent reference for the service in her favorite historical reenactment newsgroup. She lay her head against Charlie's broad shoulders and gave herself up to the speed and thrill of the ride.

After a few hours they passed through the trees and reached the low hills beneath the coastal mountains. Charlie began to feel safer. There were no cottages about and he was sure they were well rid of Ross lands. He began to sing 'Jock o' Hazledean' in loud tones. It was a sound Jenny knew well from the winds about the loch. She joined in with a pure soprano. The notes lifted together and blended into one song.

Their voices seemed to have been created to sing together: exquisitely matched, the perfect singing partners. Pressed tightly against his back it was as though their bodies also were one. The horse moved steadily forward, they sang together until their voices were shot. Finally, as they began to head up into the mountains, she shut her eyes.

How Jenny ever managed to sleep astride the horse's broad back, and maintain her grip on Charlie as well, she never understood. It was daylight when she was jolted awake. She gripped the man's back tighter and he responded with a grunt. They must have been riding for hours. And now Jenny found out why people had traded in their four footed companions for cars, buses and trains. She was stiff and she hurt all over from the bumping, jolting ride. Her thighs were rubbed raw from the saddle, her bottom and back were stiff, and she had to go to the bathroom. Jenny moaned.

Charlie seemed to interpret her moan correctly. He pulled up on the horse. Jenny started to slide off but he stopped her with one quiet arm. Charlie threw a leg over the beast's head and slipped off. When he helped her down into his arms, her legs crumpled beneath her and she would have fallen to the rocky ground if he hadn't kept his hands firmly about her waist. Not that it was such a terrible thing to be held closely and firmly next to his chest with his arms about her.

Jenny swayed against Charlie and looked about. They had stopped beside a clear running mountain burn that ran merrily down the hill through a flood of quintessentially Scottish bluebells. The blooms grew so thickly that the hillside seemed to have been dyed blue. Below the flower strewn hillside she could see a grove of Scotch Pines and farther down were birches. Jenny had read her Highlands tree and plant guides pretty thoroughly. None of the plants should have been growing anywhere near the cottage in the glen. It was clear they had left Ross lands far behind. Something funny was up and she was pretty sure it had nothing to do with Aunty Mary or Tea Time Travel. A cold feeling was starting to creep up her spine.

The scene wasn't playing out like a typical historical reenactment anymore. They should have been riding up to the festival by now, laughing about her brief 'Highland kidnapping'. The actor shouldn't still be speaking so seriously about his need for a bride and transporting her to some island. The guy didn't seem like a nut case, but then again maybe she wasn't the greatest judge of human character.

She backed stiffly away from Charlie. Her legs were steadier now."It's a bit late for bluebells, isn't it?"

He looked surprised as he released his grasp."Aye. They had a late winter hereabouts.

Snow melted late. Everything bloomed late. Everyone's hoping their crops will ripen in time to be cut before the frosts and the rain."

Jenny swallowed carefully."Why did you take me so far away, Mr. McDonald? Or are you really Charlie McDonald."

Charlie wondered if the lass were truly daft. He had made his mission in securing a wife more than clear, and she had seemed more than willing. Still a woman might have a reason to talk daft when you took her away from all she knew. No doubt she'd regain her senses in time. He spoke slowly and carefully to the woman as though she were a bairn.

"I took ye because I needed ye. Last year the Ross and his man came to our islands and took a number of our women. We were out fishing for a good bit of time and we dinna have a chance to defend them. Some of the men went after them, but they found that your men had treated them well. They were married proper and they'd bedded their husbands. They were happy living on the mainland and they had no desire to come back to the islands." He paused wondering how this woman would take to island life."I thought they were crazed. It's fine here," he swept one hand about him gesturing at the bluebells and the pines,"but there's nothing like the islands for living. I was needing a wife this past year and with so few women left, well I needed to get me ain."

"I need to use the - I need a tree or a bush." Ever the gentleman Charlie gestured towards a nearby thicket and Jenny hurried away.

She finished her business behind the bush, settled her skirts back around her ankles and stepped out to shade her eyes with one hand and look out over the valley. On the other side was a beautifully preserved stone manor house. It looked much like Tocher House, a beautiful historic site she'd visited on the drive in yesterday, except that this estate was in much better shape. She glance casually to her left. The ruined peel tower had been just there. Right where this one was. The lookout, like the manor, was in a much better state of preservation than the one she seen the day before. Jenny walked slowly back to Charlie. He was leaning against a rock humming 'Jock o' Hazledean' and sunning his back. His golden brown head was bent over a cluster of bluebells that he was twisting round and round in his fingers. Charlie looked up and smiled at Jenny. Her heart turned over and something inside her gut made her want to reach out and grab him. Sternly she reminded herself that know matter how cute he was or how well he sang he was playing some kind of weird game with her. A game that had to stop now.

"What's the name of that manor over there? It looks like one I saw recently."

He glanced over."Tocher house? It's well known in these parts."

Jenny sat down suddenly."Tocher? As in 'dowry', tocher, right?"

"Aye. He stood up. Do you want something to eat before we go on?"

"Hum." He was busying himself in the saddlebags.

"Charlie what year is it?"

He stared at the daft woman but played along with the game."Year of Our Lord seventeen hundred and ninety-five".

Jenny put her head in her hands."Oh, God! Elidah was kidding about All Hallows Eve. I feel like I've been trapped in a time travel romance." She gave a bitter laugh. "I guess that's exactly what did happen to me."

Charlie looked at her oddly."Nay, you're close though. It's All Saint's Day today."

"Oh, right. Jeez! Why didn't I use my brain when it's right here in my head? I missed my chance. Nighttime is passed and - no - wait. At sundown on All Saint's Day I can cross back over, can't I?"

Charlie came over, slid down beside her and put his arm about her shoulder."Lass, you've made it this far. It's not so much farther to the sea now. We'll be there long before sundown. Mayhap three or four hours before. Believe me, you'll get used to living on an island. There's fish and lobster enough for every man and berries in the summer like you've niver tasted here. Ye'll play that violin. We'll sing 'Jock o' Hazledean together. Did ye ever hear a pair of voices like ours? Like we were made one for another? " He slid his hand down her shoulder to her waist and lowered her gently to the grass below."And I'll love ye. We'll make beautiful bairns together. Let's start now. We're clear o' your kin and we've plenty of time to make it hame to mine."

She ought to resist the lure of Charlie's right hand as it slid softly up from her waist over her breasts and down beneath the linen shift. She certainly ought to counteract the fingers of his left which was sliding equally smoothly beneath her skirts, over her knees and along her thighs. Trapped between the two worlds with only a few hours to find her way back she should have been using her brains to find a way home, not losing herself in the passion of the moment. A part of her knew that, but it wasn't the part that mattered. It was if some greater force told her to surrender her heart and ignore her head. Jenny gave herself up to Charlie's loving.

After that it seemed that her decision had been made for her. It was easy to follow along behind him as they mounted the broad backed horse and headed on towards the western isles. Jenny lay her head on Charlie's own broad back once more and gave herself up to visions of her future. It was easy to recall that she'd never really felt terribly comfortable as a twentieth century woman anyway. Pretty soon she'd have to contend with being a twenty-first century woman, which might be even harder. Images filled her head of her future that she would have, just yesterday, considered as over two hundred years in the past. She imagined them together curled up every night in a feather bed before a turf fire, their bodies moving rhythmically, first then and the other beneath each other. If this afternoon was anything to go by, Fiona's varied love life was going to be nothing to the one she had to look forward to.

It was also easy to imagine working side-by-side in a little island home. Perhaps there would be a yard edged in golden gorse and purple heather with rosy cheeked babies and sturdy little girls running barefoot through the yard. She could see herself taking freshly baked oatcakes out of a large skillet. Jenny had never been much of a cook before but, of course, she could learn. Charlie would come in from fishing and she help him with that too. How hard could it be to skin a lobster? Or maybe you cracked them. Oh well, she'd have time to learn. It all seemed a lot more appealing than going to any more tech training at work. She wondered briefly what they might think had happened to her at work. And her family. A sob caught in her throat when she realized she'd never see them again. They'd think something awful had happened to her.

It was afternoon and the midges were out. Jenny swiped at them ineffectively. The travel guide had suggested that midges were creatures of the summer. Well perhaps the midges hadn't read the same books she had. Or maybe it had something to do with the late spring.

She thought about those crops that the people around here were counting on to get them through the winter. She supposed she would be counting on them as well now. Jenny wondered what it would be like to be hungry in the winter time. She thought about the lack of indoor plumbing and toilet paper. She considered what it was going to be like to go without aspirin, tampons and other items she was used to finding in her bathroom cabinet. Then she pressed herself tighter against Charlie's back and stroked his chest lightly with her fingers. He had professed his love for her. That was a lot more important than any problems she might face living in another age.

The track was somewhat longer than Charlie had expected. Perhaps he and Jenny shouldn't have dallied on the hillside. Still, it seemed to have calmed her down something wonderful. She hadn't asked anymore daft questions about the year. It looked like it might be sundown before they reached his boat after all.

The sea was in their ears now and he could smell the faint tang of salt in the air."We're almost hame, love," He whispered. Just a bit more. Can you keep from fallin' off 'til then do ye think?"

Jenny laughed."I'll try. How do we get across?"

"I've a boat hidden awa."

"What about your horse? Does he swim alongside us or something?"

"Nay", Charlie laughed at the thought."He belongs to me cousin. He lives near by here."

Jenny leaned down to pat the great beast."Well it's been nice meeting you laddie.

Thanks for the ride." As she bent down Jenny's eyes caught the distant sight of rolling waves and Elidah McTaggart's words came back to her. '. . . whatever you do dinna cross the waters into the other world. Once ye do, ye can niver return. ' Jenny felt a cold shiver run up her back just as she had the night before when she locked and bolted the door.

But Jenny had made her decision. She had weighed her modern life with all its conveniences: feminine hygiene products, plentiful food, insect repellent, cars, flush toilets, and advanced medicine and found it wanting. It was a world well lost for Charlie's love. True love. The phrase haunted her as the horse stepped surely down the hill towards the breakers. There was a tiny creek that flowed into the great tidal flats. Jenny was silent measuring the fragrance of the words as she watched Charlie's deft hands free his boat from beneath a great pile of water reeds. He thrust the saddlebags into its bow and then with a great slap sent the horse running towards home and its supper. Charlie pointed to a croft in the distance, and Jenny shaded her eyes and spied his cousin's tiny stone house.

Across the inlet was Charlie's island. She could see a Spartan stone tower perched between rocky crags and a smooth beach. It would be a beautiful place to live out her life. The sands were flashing first golden, then pink in the sun's final light. The most important day in Jenny's life was dying. The day she set her course for the rest of her life. Humming 'Jock o' Hazledean' beneath his breath, Charlie settled himself into the boat and stowed everything in its choice place. He looked up at the woman still standing on the creek bank and stretched out his hand to her.

"It's time to leave, love."

The fates, or an unseen presence larger than herself, had thrust her into a new life. It was time to leave her old one behind. Time to start anew. Jenny knew there was no time to choose. And why would she want to choose, between true love or nothing? There was just one problem. Had she really found true love with Charlie? His kisses were sweet and his hands even sweeter, but in her heart of hearts Jenny knew that his glances, his sing song words, and one mating did not make a lifetime of love. If she had the time, she could be sure. If she just believed that the unseen presence knew more than she did, then she could go. She should trust in love. She could hear Charlie humming in the boat. Love's song hummed in her ears and told her to believe.

"Give me my violin, Charlie."

The woman had gone daft again."Sweeting, ye can play to the waters once you're in, we mun be off."

"Give it to me. You see, it's not that I don't believe in true love for you and me, Charlie. It's just that I can't say for sure whether we have it or not. And there's no time to be sure. I'm not going with you."

His face went ashen. Jenny reached over into the bow of the boat and drew out her violin. Charlie grasped her arm and pulled her towards the boat. He looked up into her face and froze when he saw the look in her brown eyes. He knew he could not force her to come with him. He wished to God she would come of her own accord. But it wasn't to be. He let go of Jenny's arm and she stood up clutching her instrument tightly beneath one arm.

His throat was choked with tears."We'll spend the night on shore," he rasped."I'll love ye like no woman's every been loved. I'll change your mind."

"If you spend the night on shore you'll find yourself in a world you never imagined by daylight, Charlie McDonald." Jenny backed away from the boat pushing it from her as she moved. It begin to move slowly down stream.

"Wait!" He reached hastily for an oar and made to push back to shore.

"No! You'll miss the tide, and you must be away from here by dark. Otherwise I think you'll be trapped. Like I was."

He didn't understand her words but he did as she told him. The lass was daft he told himself angrily. But in his heart of hearts he knew it wasn't true. He began to pull through the water towards home."Get to me cousin's house, Jenny and I'll come back for ye in the morning. Give ye time to change your mind."

Jenny opened her case and took out her violin. The strains of 'Jock o' Hazledean' floated across the waters to Charlie.

"I'll come back for ye in the morning, Jenny. Be sure I will."

In the morning, she was not at all surprised to find a paved road where once she and Charlie McDonald had ridden along a rough, grassy track. She walked along its macadam surface until she spotted a bus sign. The bus came not long after dawn.

No one seemed particularly surprised by her period garb."Festival in The Glen?" the driver asked with a smile. Jenny nodded silently. Jenny found her way to the back of the bus. Though it had not been as uncomfortable sleeping on the beach as Jenny might have imagined, still she was grateful for the comfort of the bus's vinyl seats.

She leaned her arms against the window ledge and peered out at a streaky morning sky. It was odd that today, having been returned to her rightful time, she felt more as though she was living in a dream now than when she had been transported centuries into the past. Then she had felt alive. Every sense had been stirred by the sounds, sights and sensations, of the past. Her body throbbed at the memory of some of those sensations and Jenny pillowed her face in her arm.

It was only just past nine when the bus rolled into the festival and deposited her in front of a ruined stone castle by a familiar looking loch. A few performers were strolling about but the gates wouldn't open for another hour. Jenny hoped her group wouldn't be too angry with her for pulling a disappearing act the day before. She wondered what she ought to say to explain her absence.

The fiddlers grove was still deserted. She sat down on the edge of a platform and began to tune her instrument, listening carefully to the high sweet sounds. Carefully she raised her bow and began to play the opening notes of of 'Jock o' Hazledean'.

"Your E string is still flat." The man's voice came from just behind her. Jenny turned towards him and nearly dropped her violin. Shoulder length brown curls burnished with gold reached just to his shoulders, a well-muscled chest and a light crop of freckles dusted his nose. In his loose, open necked shirt and McDonald kilt, the man could have posed for the cover of a romance novel.

"Charlie-" she breathed.

"Uh, yes. Sorry, I don't know your name. Did we meet yesterday? I can't imagine meeting you and forgetting your face. It's funny because, oldest line in the world or not, I feel like I've seen you before somewhere. Like we're well acquainted."

Jenny caught her breath, "Oh no, I think someone may have pointed you out to me."

He sat down, offered a large hand and smiled. The smile caught at Jenny's heart. She looked down at the hand he offered her. Jenny knew those fingers well. Her nipples tightened in involuntary response and she had some rather heightened sensations in the region that Fiona referred to as her 'womanly place'.

"Good. I was afraid you were going to tell me that my sister wrote my name on the back of my jerkin again! Charlie McDonald, at your service. I'm filling in for Elena. She's got teeth problems."

"McDonald? Do you - that is- do you have ancestors in these parts?"

"Doesn't everybody? Unfortunately my sister's a nut on the subject. She found some portrait of an ancestor she seemed to think I took after - I bet you can't guess who I'm named after - and made me this lovely costume. An exact replica. Well not that exact. I get to wear underwear!"

"Well, thanks. I'll feel differently about the outfit from now on. Say, I hope you don't think I'm being too friendly too fast, but I don't know if we'll get much more chance to be alone. Would you like to have supper tonight? I don't know what restaurants they have around here, if we were back home in Chicago I could try and impress you, but maybe we can just wing it and find something good. That is - well, if you want to? "

"Hey, hometown boy, that sounds good."

"Really? That's great! I mean the hometown bit. I hope we'll have a chance to get together there once the vacation is over. We could make a little music together." He gestured towards his instrument case. "Sing maybe. Do you sing too? I don't know what makes me think you do."

Jenny shaded her eyes with her bow hand."I'd love to take the time to get to know you."

Charlie McDonald smiled into Jenny's eyes and her heart was his.