My Heart Stood Still by Lynn Kurland (best book club books of all time .TXT) 📕

him and make certain that she didn't weep.

"Thank you for coming," he said with a small smile. "It means a lot."

She nodded, waving him away.

"You could come back to the keep with me," he offered.

She shook her head. "I can't." She looked away. "I just can't, Thomas."

"Well, then," he said, "that's that." He stood. "I'll see you soon."

She looked at him miserably. "But I won't know you."

"But you'll remember me," he said confidently.

She shook her head, but he held up his hand.

"It may take a little while," he conceded, "but you'll remember. Something will click. You'll wonder why I know your name, or how I know so much about your clan."

"I'll think you're a spy from an enemy and stick a knife between your ribs," she said darkly.

He laughed uneasily. "Let's hope not." He smiled at her. "It'll all work. Trust me."

"I have no choice," she said simply.

He hesitated. "Do you mean that? Do you really not want me to try?"

"How can I answer that?" she managed. "You're offering me another chance at life. A chance to be loved and love in return. How can I forbid you to make that possible? Nay," she said, shaking her head, "I am the one who is selfish, for you do this all for me—and at the dearest risk to yourself. Rather I should be telling you to save yourself."

"I am," he said with another smile. "Trust me, I am."

She sighed. "Very well, then. Be off with you, and take your rest. I'm certain you'll need it. My kin are a troublesome lot, and you'll need all your wits about you."

"I'll see you soon."

She nodded, but she couldn't speak. She did watch him walk back up to the keep and saw him hold up his sword in farewell before he went inside the gates.

And she wondered if that might be the last time she saw him.

She hid herself far in the forest the next morning, that she might not witness whatever happened. It was evening before she dared venture back to the keep. Ambrose was nowhere to be found. She went inside the hall and looked about her. It was empty save for the fire banked in the hearth. She walked up the stairs, feeling an eerie sense of having been in this exact place before, though 'twas a certainty the inside of the keep had been changed greatly. It was far larger than it had been in her day.

But as she walked down the passageway to the laird's solar, she shivered.

She had done this before, and not during her lifetime.

The door was ajar. She went inside to find that her great-great-grandfather sat at his table, scratching away with his pen. There was a chair there next to the desk. She made her way to it and sat down slowly.

She saw Jamie stiffen, then watched him look up. When he saw her, he took a deep breath.

"Ah," he managed, then closed his mouth. He took a deep breath. "Good e'en to you, lady."

"And to you, my laird."

He leaned back in his chair carefully. "Thomas left this morning."

"Aye, I know."

He considered for several moments, then spoke again. "I asked him your name, but he said he wasn't at liberty to give it to me."

I'll be discreet, Thomas had said.

And so he had been. And that was perhaps the only thing, or mayhap 'twas the final thing, that made her burden more than she could bear. She bowed her head and wept.

She wondered absently if she'd ever wept as she did then.

When she had regained some bit of control, she found that Jamie was making little sounds of distress and wringing his hands as if he wasn't quite sure what he should be doing.

It was somehow comforting to see that men were still men, no matter the century.

"There, there, my girl," he said, looking as cornered as if she'd had him pinned in the stables with three dozen blades at her disposal.

She would have laughed, but her heart hurt too much for laughter. So she dried her tears as best she could and sniffed a time or two.

"I'm Iolanthe, my laird," she said, finally.

"Iolanthe," he repeated. "I'm James."

"My grandfather's grandfather," she agreed.

He shook his head with a wry smile. "Aye, that as well." He looked at her with a goodly bit of relief she could only credit to the cessation of her tears. "How can I serve you?"

She considered, for she wished not to ask amiss. Then she gathered her courage.

"I imagine I will be here as long as he doesn't succeed in his task. If he succeeds, I... well, I suppose I will be pulled backward. Through time." She looked at Jamie. "Think you?"

"Aye," Jamie agreed. "I do."

"Then," she began slowly, "will you sit with me whilst I wait?"

"Gladly," Jamie said without hesitation. "What else?"

She took a deep breath. "Will you," she asked, "write down my tale? My memories?"

"Ach," he said softly.

"That I might not forget?" She paused. "In case I do forget."

"Of course," he said quietly.

He stood and rummaged about in the collection that resided in a handsome wooden bookcase. He pulled forth a leather volume, then sat back down and opened to the first page. Iolanthe looked over to find that the page was blank.

"Empty?" she asked in surprise.

"Waiting for your words," he said. He looked down at the pen in his hand, then at her. "Will you begin it?"

Well, she could read, but she certainly hadn't had much practice writing except with pen and paper she had fashioned from her own imagination.

But she took the pen just the same and with great effort scrawled the words I, Iolanthe MacLeod, and then she dropped the pen on the desk and sat back in her chair.

"I can do no more," she said wearily.

" 'Tis enough, my girl. I'll do the rest." He took the pen and looked at her. "Where shall we begin?"

"At the beginning, I suppose." She gathered her thoughts, then spoke. "I, Iolanthe MacLeod, was born in the year of Our