There was a roof above the kitchen, the only one-story part of the building. The other side of the hallway was the room they’d first entered.
“This was the main living area,” Tavish said. “I remember ma father sitting me on his knee by that window, looking out at the village green. The trees were always full of apples in ma memory. This way.”
He led her back into the hallway and she stopped at the foot of the stairs. “What?” he asked, watching her run her hand up the newel post.
“The carving,” she said. “It’s beautiful.”
He looked at the intricate Celtic swirls, the paint long faded. “My grandfather made it.”
“He was a talented man.” She smiled to herself. That would be the perfect tribute to Tavish. She would recreate that design when they rebuilt the staircase.
She followed him up the stairs, admiring each baluster as she went. “It was the Sinclair symbol,” Tavish said, seeing where she was looking.
“An S that repeats,” she replied. “I see it.”
He raised his eyebrows before turning away and vanishing through another door. “There’s not much upstairs in my time,” she said when she caught up with him.
“This was my room,” he said. “It’s a rare thing to have your own room, you ken? Ma grandfather kept the bairns in here while he was next door with his missus.”
“It’s nice seeing it with a roof on.”
The plaster had crumbled in both rooms, but they still maintained a hint of their former warmth. It didn’t take long for Tavish to clear the fireplace of debris.
“Chimney here,” she said.
“We were the first tae have one. Only the castles have them around here.”
“And the monasteries,” Lindsey replied. “Or is that in a couple of years?”
“Ah dinnae ken,” he said. “What matters is that this will keep ye warm tonight. Ah’ll get the logs if you get the kindling.”
They went back downstairs together and headed outside. Lindsey began looking for dry twigs, not an easy task in the dark. She found herself continually glancing back at the house, comparing it to how it looked in her time.
It was a strange sight, seeing it still with all four walls and the thatched roof. The straw had slipped in places, but it would be a fair while before it fell away to expose the interior.
When she had two armfuls of kindling, she returned to the smaller of the two bedrooms, surprised to see Tavish already there.
“You move quietly,” she said, dumping the kindling at his feet. “I didn’t hear you come back.”
“I’ve stuffed the bed with fresh straw and found a couple of blankets for ye.” He turned away and began piling up kindling in the fireplace. His expression when he’d told her about the blankets made it look as if he was daring her to thank him.
She didn’t, not wanting to embarrass him but silently she was grateful he’d gone to so much effort.
In no time at all the chill was gone from the room. Lindsey nestled in the straw, her cloak wrapped around her.
“I must find some way of washing tomorrow,” she said to herself, the low light of the fire doing little to hide the buildup of grime on her skin.
“There’s a loch near here,” Tavish said.
“Did I say that out loud?”
“Aye lass, though you look clean enough to me.”
“That’s because it’s dark in here.”
“Ah see well enough. Are ye hungry?”
“Famished.”
