Page 46 of Edge of Yesterday

What did he have to lose? “The Bear was my cousin.”

Lennox brows dove down in a fierce frown, then he laughed. “By God, ye have bollocks. You might easily have said John Mackay, for there are many of them, and it would take me six months to discover whether or not you lied. Instead, ye chose a man I knew. Broc had no cousins.”

“Now who’s daft?” Cailean said. “Every Highlander has at least a dozen cousins. I didn’t say I was a close cousin.” He and Broc were so far apart in blood that Broc could marry Cailean’s sister Gennine.

Ginny. Dammit, he’d promised to call her yesterday morning. If she didn’t hear from him within a few days she would show up on Val’s doorstep looking for Cailean. If anyone could find this hidden Raghnall, Ginny could. Cailean pictured the look on Val's face when she told him that kidnapping was an offense punishable by prison. Val would think twice about involving any other reenactors in a fantasy like this.

Cailean couldn’t be the first person Val had plunged into an involuntary reenactment. Which meant the constable must know of the castle’s existence and wouldn’t let things get out of hand. Perhaps that meant he could relax a bit.

“‘Tis very convenient that Broc is dead and cannae confirm whether or no’ ye are his cousin.” Lennox’s voice broke into his thoughts.

Cailean shrugged. “Do you know all your cousins?”

“I would know if I had a Ross as a relative.”

Cailean considered pointing out that his sister was a Ross, but decided against it.

Lennox regarded him. “I cannae decide if ye are brave or just downright stupid.”

“Probably more of the latter,” Cailean said, and thought of his arrogance in admitting the connection. “Either way, I am no’ a liar. I cannae prove my claim—Broc didnae know me personally, but…” He shrugged.

“Strange ye should own up to it, then,” Lennox commented.

“Not so strange.” Cailean smiled. “I knew it would bother you.”

The great hall was a completely different room than the one he’d stumbled upon last night. Music now mingled with the din, laughter, and voices. Flaming torches, hanging oil lamps, and wall sconces lit the room. A fire blazed in the small fireplace on the left wall while a pig roasted in the massive hearth on the right. A historian’s paradise of medieval banners and tapestries decorated the walls. To the right of the dais, on the far side of the room, half a dozen clarsairs played their clarsachs. Cailean stared at the musicians and their ancient, triangular-framed harps, his pulse quickening to think that such instruments were favored by the Picts as long ago as the eighth century. On the dais a woman of about forty years of age sat in a carved chair fit for a queen. She leaned left, deep in conversation with Julianna.

The woman could be none other than Lady Ravenstone. No pictures of her had survived to modern day, but there could be no mistaking the dark hair she shared with her son or the full mouth and delicate nose she had given to her daughter. The young man on her right who watched the minstrels, a rapt expression on his face, had to be Lady Ravenstone’s nephew whose birthday they celebrated.

Despite the fact Lady Ravenstone was known as a devout Christian, looking at her now, Cailean could almost believe she dabbled in the black arts, as was rumored of the family. Sir Artair Grray, the fifth Baron of Ravenstone, enjoyed something of a ferocious reputation, not only as a fierce warrior, but as a sorcerer. No proof was found to support the rumors, and historians gave no credence to the gossip. However, when the baron disappeared on a trip home from visiting his tenants, accusations that he had been taken to Hell to live with his god, Satan, forced Lady Ravenstone and her two children to undergo a special mass to prove they weren’t practicing black magic.

“You may sit where you want, but I advise you not to drink too much cider,” Lennox’s voice broke into his thoughts. “My mother does no’ tolerate drunkenness.”

“She’s a pious woman,” Cailean said.

Lennox cast him a sideways glance. “What do you know of my mother?”

Cailean shrugged. “It is well-known that Lady Ravenstone is a good Christian.”

A large man cut off any reply when he clapped Lennox on the back. “Why do ye look so serious, Lennox? Tonight is a night for merrymaking. Even your mother agrees.” The man’s gaze shifted onto Cailean. “And who might you be?”

“Cailean Mackay,” Lennox cut in. “From the Durness Mackays in far north.”

The man grunted. “Ye are a long way from home.”

“You have no idea,” Cailean said.

“Cailean, this is Brody Mackay,” Lennox said. “He is our father’s captain at arms.”

“Good to meet ye, Brody.” Cailean extended a hand and Brody shook. “Is Lord Ravenstone here?” Cailean asked.

Lennox shook his head. “He will no’ return for another week, at least. I have to speak with my mother. Brody will introduce you to the men.” Lennox left Cailean alone with Brody.

A serving girl brushed past and gave Cailean a sidelong glance.

“Mere moments and you already have captured the attention of the prettiest lass in the room,” Brody said.

“Lady Julianna is the prettiest lass in the room,” Cailean said.