Helen barked a tiny laugh. “I wouldn’t want to disappear while staring at myself from across the room.”
“Exactly. Now why don’t you go with my mother and the others, and I’ll meet you back downstairs when you’re ready.”
Simon could see a slight hesitation before Helen nodded and allowed herself to be led from the room.
“’Tis good you’re home,” Fin said again.
“’Tis good to be home.”
“Change, son, and we’ll see you downstairs.”
Simon glanced at the blue jeans fitting snuggly against his skin before nodding.
* * * *
Every inch of Helen’s skin buzzed. Amber escorted her to her room where she proceeded to remove a couple of gowns for Helen’s inspection. “You and I look to be similar in size,” Amber said, holding up yards of material in the shape of a dress.
“Why can’t I just wear this? It isn’t like you guys don’t know where I come from.”
“Our family understands, but the others have no idea.”
“The others?”
“The servants, my father’s men.”
So far, Helen had only seen the multitude of MacCoinnichs. The thought of employees running around this ancient stone Keep hadn’t occurred to her. “I didn’t think of that.”
“’Tis very important to keep where and when you’re from away from the others. We don’t call attention upon ourselves as Druids. Perhaps Simon has already told you, but in these times to be called out as a witch would mean death.”
Helen swallowed. “I don’t shoot fire from my hands like Simon. I shouldn’t have any problems.”
Amber placed a dark umber gown on her bed and returned the other to a trunk. “I’ll teach you.”
“Teach me what?” Helen sat and toed off her shoes.
“To shoot fire from your hands.”
“I don’t think so. I’ve gone my whole life without that talent, no need to start it now.”
“You make it sound as if you’re old.”
Helen felt old. Like she’d lived a hundred years in her small handful. All the family members who surrounded Simon on their arrival made her remember all the years she’d gone without. Still went without. Mrs. Dawson was the closest to family she had and she was thousands of miles and hundreds of years away.
Amber placed a hand on her arm and flinched. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not offended.”
“For your loss. I’ve always had my family and can’t imagine what it must have been like to have grown up alone. It must have been difficult.”
Helen opened her mouth to question how Amber knew so much, and then remembered Simon telling her about Amber’s empathic gift. “Life isn’t fair. In fact, it sucks most of the time.” Wanting to change the subject, Helen tugged her t-shirt from her shoulders. “So how do I get into this thing?”
Twenty minutes later, Amber escorted her down a dark hall and to a set of massive stairs. MacCoinnich Keep was huge. Stone walls reached high overhead. Wall sconces with candles burned as they walked down the stairs. Everywhere Helen looked was another impressive antique. Though it wasn’t antique at present. She fingered a tapestry hanging on the wall for warmth. “The latest in modern medieval,” she whispered.
“My mother’s actually.”
Helen stopped and pulled away to take in the needle and thread art. “Your mother made this…by hand?”
“We don’t have machines, nor electricity to run them.”
“That’s amazing. The hours she must have put into it.”
“Years. Nearly a decade, actually.”
“Wow.” And it was wow. Who did this kind of thing?
“There you two are.” Simon walked into the room and paused.
As his gaze travel down Helen’s frame, hers did the same to his. He’d transformed into a Scottish Highlander with a long kilt. The shirt he wore tapered at his waist, his broad shoulders emphasized by the clothing on his back. He was even more gorgeous in a kilt.
The way his heated gaze raked over her body in the dress Amber provided gave Helen’s heart a little kick.
Helen sucked in her lower lip and returned her eyes to his. He wore a tiny smile and mischief danced behind it.
“Amazing,” he whispered as he reached her side and placed her hand in the crook of his arm. Electricity zinged from the contact. He offered the other to Amber and walked them both into what Helen thought was a dining room.
She had little time to consider the man who traveled back and forth in time with her as Simon’s extended family surrounded them both.
“Sit over here,” Tara, or maybe it was Myra, who spoke. Placing the names with faces would take some time she figured.
Thankfully, Simon sat beside her and addressed everyone around them by name. All the children sat at the far end of the table and waited patiently for the meal to begin.
Ian, the Laird of the MacCoinnich clan started the small feast once the servants filled the room.
Helen sat in awe of the amount of people streaming from a kitchen. Some eyed her with curiosity, but none said anything directly. Perhaps they were used to strangers ‘popping up’ out of nowhere and kept their thoughts to themselves.
“’Tis good to see ye home, Lord Simon.” One of the servants braved.
“’Tis good to be home, Maggie,” he said with a wink.
Once the servants left the room, Lora said, “I’ve had a room prepared for you adjacent from Amber’s.”
Was that an inconvenience? Was she putting someone out? “Thank you.”
“There are many empty rooms,” Simon told her. “Once the children started coming, expansion on the Keep became necessary.”
“Filled with love and laughter, right children?” Lora asked.
“Aye, Nana.”
Helen helped pass trays loaded with cooked meats, bread, and vegetables around the table.
“Do you have family, lass?” The question came from Ian.
“No, not really.” She moved along a tray of beef after taking a small sliver for herself.
“No family?” one of the kids asked.
“I’m an orphan.” The words were spoken on autopilot, but the entire family paused. “It’s okay. I’ve been that way my whole life. No big deal.”
“I’m sorry,” Fin, earthquake man said.
“Don’t be. I’m used to it.
“No sisters, brothers?”