My Heart Stood Still Lynn Kurland (some good books to read TXT) 📖

behind as she took up with a minstrel and fled to France."

"I'm unsurprised."

"Don't know that he wasn't a pleasant sort before his lady left him," Duncan continued. "As pleasant as you can be with a rowdy lot like his clan to look after. Why do you ask?"

"I was thinking I'd give the castle to one of my sisters. She'd whip the MacDougal into shape."

"He's old."

"So is she," Thomas said dryly. His sister was thirty-two going on a hundred when it came to being jaded. Perhaps that had something to do with too much time spent with actors. "Besides, he can't be more than mid-thirties."

"But foul enough to be pitched into the cesspit," Duncan said, "no matter his age."

Thomas shook his head with a smile. "Never mind. They were just idle thoughts."

"Aye, and idle thoughts get Laird Ambrose into peril, so I'd avoid them, were I you."

Thomas nodded, then looked at Duncan and smiled. "It's good to see you, Duncan."

"Aye, lad. That it is." He hesitated, then cleared his throat. "Did you tell her?"

Thomas smiled, "That you're her father? No, I thought you should."

"Can she see me?"

"Not yet. I'm hoping that will change eventually. In the meantime you can figure out what to say."

"Whose lot is worse?" Duncan asked grimly. "Yours, that you should have to win her, or mine, that I should try not to lose her?"

"Duncan, my friend, we're in the same boat, believe me."

They made their way back along the road to the inn. Thomas could smell dinner from the road, and for some reason that was an enormous comfort. He took a deep breath and continued up the driveway. Duncan was right. He'd give Iolanthe a couple of days to settle in, then he'd drive her up to the Highlands and take his chances with her home.

And pray that he wasn't making a colossal mistake.

Chapter 37

Iolanthe sank down into the chair before the polished looking glass and wondered if she was truly equal to the task of surviving the Future. Perhaps Thomas had done her a disservice by saving her life. Surely all those years of being a ghost couldn't have been as taxing on her as less than a day and a night full of wonders she'd never imagined.

Not that she remembered much of the day before. By the time she'd finished with her bath and found herself dressed in a shift of some marvelous fabric that reportedly belonged to Thomas's sister, she hadn't had the energy to do much besides fall into bed.

Apparently, sleeping on her hair while it was wet wasn't a good idea. Had her head looked so misshapen her whole life and she'd never been the wiser? There was, she decided as she took a very elegant brush to her untamed locks, much to be said for having no idea what you looked like.

Her visage, however, wasn't in such a sorry state. She leaned forward and studied her face. Try as she might, she honestly couldn't see what her brothers and sister had found so objectionable about her appearance. Her teeth were well shaped, and none were missing. Her nose was straight, and her eyes weren't crossed. In fact, had she been forced to be completely honest with herself, she couldn't help but admit that she found herself if not pleasing to the eye, at least not worthy of the flinches Angus and Grudach had ever favored her with. Mayhap it would have served her to have had a polished glass at her disposal much earlier. It might have helped her sort the truth from the lies.

And thinking on those lies made her wonder what else they had told her that wasn't true.

Was she too tall, too old, and too homely for any man to want her? The mirror had contradicted the last. Perhaps her height was not a bad thing. And perhaps there were men who wouldn't care how old she was.

Men such as Thomas.

She closed her eyes and leaned her head down on the table before her. So many conflicting emotions raged within her, she scarce knew where to begin in sorting them out. She was grateful to him, aye, for rescuing her. She was very grateful to him for the se'nnight of luxury at Artane. And she suspected that in time she might even be grateful to him for bringing her to a time of such wonders.

But gratitude alone did not a happy marriage make.

Did I love you?

I think you did.

Her conversation with him on the shore came back to her in a poignant fragment. He said he loved her, that he'd loved her as a ghost, and that he loved her still. Had she loved him?

It was more than she could bear to think about. She had no idea what she was supposed to do with herself now, but 'twas a certainty that whatever she decided, 'twould be better done while dressed. She put the brush down and rose. Mrs. Pruitt had laid out clothing for her on a chair.

She fingered the things there, then frowned. Had the good woman lost her wits? There were hose there, fashioned from a heavy blue material, but certainly nothing appropriate for a woman! She looked about for the things she'd worn to the inn, but a thorough search of every nook and cranny in the chamber produced nothing but a pain between her eyes.

In frustration, she ripped the top blanket off the bed, wrapped it around herself, and went in search of the innkeeper. Surely Mrs. Pruitt could find something more suitable than what she'd provided thus far. What of the gear on the packhorse? There had been a pair of very lovely dresses there. If nothing else, Iolanthe would have happily received her old clothing in return.

She descended the steps in a fine temper. The entryway was full of people, and that likely should have given her pause, but she was too irritated to pay them any heed. She found Mrs. Pruitt standing behind a little wooden table with