Love Came Just In Time Part 30

"No."

Ian looked to Miss Witherspoon. She hadn't bothered to look up from what she was doing.

"I'll take him," Alexis offered. "I've always wanted to see Scotland."

"I've already offered," Jane said.

Miss Witherspoon shoved a handful of pages at Jane. "Get to work on these. I want mock-ups done

before next week." Ian watched Jane take the pages, then he caught sight of the drawing upon the topmost sheaf. And he suspected that even he might be more successful at creating a bridal gown than the woman who had done the depictions before him. It was then that he began to understand. "Get to work on my stuff," Alexis said, giving Jane a little push toward the door. "We'll take good care of Ian."

Ian watched Jane hold onto the pages and consider. And for a moment, he thought she just might do as she was bid. Then he watched her put her shoulders back. "I have three years' worth of vacation time coming," she said firmly "and this is something of an urgent situation. I'm sorry I can't give more notice, but it's imperative that Ian return to Scotland as soon as possible and he needs me to get there." Alexis made a scornful sound, then looked up at Ian. "I can take him places you couldn't even imagine in your wildest dreams."

Ian was afraid to ask where those places might be and what Alexis might to do him with her claws if he let her escort him there. "I said no and I meant it," Miss Witherspoon said sternly. "Now, get to work on those, Jane. I don't have any more time for your foolishness."

Ian saw Jane begin to falter and he cleared his throat. "I beg your pardon, my lady Witherspoon, but I do indeed need her a.s.sistance. If you would be so kind--" "Alexis can accompany you," Miss Witherspoon said with a curt nod. "I have no more time for either of you."

"Alexis is not accompanying Ian anywhere," Jane said. "I want to go to Scotland. I've wanted to go to Scotland for years." "Have you?" Ian asked, surprised. He hadn't realized the desire was so firmly planted in her, though he could well understand the like.

"Lots of sheep there," Jane said shortly, then she turned her attentions back to Miss Witherspoon. "We're leaving on Wednesday. I'll be back-"

"You'll go nowhere," Miss Witherspoon said, the edge in her voice as cutting as any blade Ian had run his fingers across. "Those designs must be fleshed out."

"That's right," Alexis said, turning to glare at Jane as well. "You can't go."

"It's only a couple of weeks," Jane said firmly. "You'll survive that long without me finis.h.i.+ng up your homework for you."

Alexis gasped as if she'd been struck and Miss Witherspoon looked as if she might reach out and slap Jane. Ian fumbled for his sword, then realized he'd left it at Jane's home.

"You'll stay," Miss Witherspoon commanded, "and you'll apologize to my niece!"

Jane laid the drawings on Miss Witherspoon's desk and stepped back. "I'll be back in two weeks."

"If you walk out that door," Miss Witherspoon said angrily, pointing at Jane with a trembling finger, "you're fired."

"Yeah," Alexis added enthusiastically. Then she blinked a time o two, turned, and looked at her aunt in dismay. "But then who will-"

"Fired," Miss Witherspoon repeated. "Do you hear me?"

Jane took a deep breath, then shrugged. "Have it your way. You owe me for six weeks' vacation. I expect to find the check in my mailbox when I get home. Come on, Ian. We've got to go pack."

And with that, he found himself being towed behind her out of Mis Witherspoon's presence and down the pa.s.sageway back to the broom closet.

"Stupid job," Jane was muttering under her breath as she stomped down the hall. "Didn't like it anyway."

Before much time had pa.s.sed, Ian found himself loaded down with all manner of odds and ends from Jane's little working chamber. He followed her out into the pa.s.sageway only to find Alexis blocking his path "You can't take anything with you," Alexis said with a sneer. "Take nothing-which is what you came here with."

"These are my personal things," Jane said, brus.h.i.+ng past her.

Ian gave Alexis's hands a wide berth and hastened down the pa.s.sage way after Jane.

Once they reached her dwelling, Jane obtained by messenger a food stuff called pizza. She hardly partook, though, before she excused herself and shut herself into her private chamber. Ian couldn't see letting the food go to waste, so he finished off what was left and felt himself as full and satisfied as he ever had after a meal at Jamie's table. He placed the pizza container in the kitchen then paused in the television chamber, wondering what he should do. It was then that he heard the sound of weeping.

He went to press his ear to Jane's door. The sounds were m.u.f.fled, but he hazarded a guess that the weeping was not of the joyous kind. He tapped on the door and the snuffling abruptly stopped.

"What?"

"How do you fare?" Ian asked through the wood.

"Nothing's wrong," came the answer. "Really."

The last was accompanied by a mighty sniff. Ian knew enough about women to know that such a sound

could only mean more tears to follow. He didn't wait for permission to enter, he merely turned the k.n.o.b

on the door and poked his head in the chamber. And what he saw took his breath away. There was color everywhere. b.a.l.l.s and skeins of yarn in every imaginable color littered the floor where Jane sat. She had obviously unearthed these things from some hidden trunk. Ian walked over to her and knelt down amidst the riot of color. He picked up a ball of particularly vibrant purple, then looked at Jane in surprise.

"I had no inkling," he began.

"I pull them out to make myself feel better," she said, dragging her sleeve across her eyes. "But not very

often, because it never makes me feel better."

"I had no idea you cared for such color."

"Yeah, well, I've got plenty of time to do all I like with it now." She looked at him bleakly. "I can't

believe I lost my job. It wasn't a great job, but at least it allowed me to eat."

Ian gestured to the yarn. "Have you made aught with these things?"

She nodded, then pointed to the trunk Ian hadn't noticed before. He reached over and drew out a heavy

tunic woven of thick, deep red yarn. It was something that would keep any man warm even in the hard winters of the Highlands. Then he pulled out a blanket woven of so many strands of differing colors that it almost hurt his eyes to look at it. It too was made of heavy wool.

"Beautiful," he said, stunned by the sight of the rich colors.

"The yarn was imported from Scotland." She fingered the blanket absently. "Lots of sheep there, you know." "Aye, I do," he said, fingering the wool. "I could see myself in a little cottage on the side of a hill, spinning and weaving to keep myself busy." To his surprise, so could he. He looked at her with her slender hands and could easily picture those hands spinning and weaving. And tending the small joys and sorrows of a handful of children as well. He didn't know where it had come from, that thought, but he knew it was a good one. He reached over and pulled the sharp sticks from her hair, watching as the wavy strands fell about her shoulders. Even still wearing her black clothing, she looked much more at peace, much freer than he'd seen her before.

Aye, he thought, here was a woman who could share a hearth with him and not mind the keeping of it.

She began to put her things away and Ian stopped her by taking her hand.

" Tis a pity to waste your gift only on white," he said.

She shrugged. "It's what bridal gowns are made from."

"In my time, a bride wore the colors she found near her home."

"Then your brides were a lot more fun to design for than mine," she said with another sigh. She looked

around her at the remaining piles of yarn. "Maybe I can start over again in Scotland."

"Aye-"

She interrupted him with a half laugh that contained no humor whatsoever. "Who am I kidding? I don't

have the money to start over. I don't even have the money to go back home to Indiana."

Yet Ian had heard her talking into that magical telephone contrivance, promising to pay for both her and

his travel to Scotland. Was that the last of her funds? He couldn't allow her to spend all upon him On the other hand, he had to get home.

He picked up a ball of yarn and handed it to her. "I'll find a way to repay you," he pledged. "Or perhaps

you can remain with us for a time un till Miss Witherspoon regains her senses and takes you back."

"Hrumph," she said with a scowl. "Poverty or indentured servitude I don't know what's worse."

Ian looked again at the fragments of her dreams laying in lump around her feet and thought perhaps that

returning to Miss Witherspoon' was the very last thing Jane should be doing. A little cottage was starting to sound better by the moment. Hope fully they would travel to Scotland and find Jamie there. There was no guarantee Jamie would have returned to their clan home, but Ian couldn't imagine him doing anything else. What other place on earth would call to Jamie but their keep in the Highlands? Nay, Jamie had to be there and Ian would find him. And then he would find some way to make Jane's dream come true.

Chapter Six.

Jane stumbled off the plane wis.h.i.+ng she had somehow managed to acquire a Valium or two beforeembarking. She looked at Ian who walked beside her, his eyes burning with a feverish light. "Ach," he purred like a satisfied cat, "now that was a proper rrrush." "Too much television," she chided, ignoring those blasted r's of his.

"We must do it again. I'll pay for the privilege next time."

I'd rather go by boat, she almost said, then realized that was likely what half of the Thank's pa.s.sengers had said.

"Sure," she said aloud, "only next time let's go first cla.s.s."

"First cla.s.s?"

"Bigger seats. Better food."

As those had been his two complaints about that ride, Ian only nodded in agreement. Jane didn't let herself think about the fact that the odds of her ever traveling again with Ian MacLeod were practically nil. He would find his cousin and be merrily off on his way while she was left to return to the States and face her nonlife. Maybe she could beg Miss Witherspoon for her job back.

She almost pursued that thought when she realized it was out of the question She'd spent half a night fondling skeins of vibrantly colored wool and fantasizing about what she would make from it. She could knit. She could weave. Surely she could make a living doing that. Or maybe she would take those colors, have cloth dyed to match, and design her own clothes. That was what she'd started out to do anyway, before money for rent and food had gotten in the way.

Jane would have given that more thought, but she suddenly found herself facing the rental car and realized that there was no wheel on the driver's side where it was supposed to be. She looked at Ian, but he was too busy peering into the outside mirrors to give any indication that he found the wheel placement unusual.

"Well, here goes nothing," she said, going around to the right side and sliding in under the wheel. She pulled down the sun visor and was greeted with bold letters reminding her to Drive On The Left. "When in Rome," she said, waiting until Ian had clambered into the pa.s.senger seat before she turned the car on. She looked at him. "You don't know anything about this driving on the left business, do you?"

He looked at her blankly. "We were accustomed to letting our mounts go where they willed."

"That's what I was afraid of."

The next three days were an endless, relentless exercise in trying to remember which side of the wheel the turn signals were on and spending most of her time turning on the winds.h.i.+eld wipers instead. By the time they reached Inverness, Ian had familiarized himself with all the workings of the dashboard doodahs and had apparently decided that bagpipes were much preferable to top forty on the radio. He seemed to have no trouble understanding the unintelligible news reports she couldn't decipher. He spent a great deal of time grunting, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

They left Inverness and headed north. Jane did the best she could with the roads available to follow Ian's homing beacon. By the time they reached roads that had continually shrunk in width and increased in incline, she was convinced they were hopelessly lost. She stopped in a little town and found the first bed and breakfast-which wasn't hard, as it was a very small town indeed-and pulled in.

"Enough," she said, turning the car off and putting her head down on the steering wheel. "I can't drive anymore today."

"I could drive."

She turned her head and looked at him out of one eye. The light of intense desire was visible even in the twilight.

"Not a chance," she said, resuming her position. "We'll get going first thing in the morning. I need dinner and some sleep."

She heard Ian get out of the car, then felt a brush of cool air as he opened her door. He unbuckled her seat belt, then took her arm and gently pulled her out. Before she knew it, she was enveloped in a warm embrace.

"I have driven you hard," he said, running his hand over her back, "and I beg pardon for it. I am anxious to see my home and know if there is aught left of it."

And to see his cousin, no doubt. Though she hadn't heard him say as much since they'd left the States, she knew he was worried that he wouldn't find what he was looking for. That she was even considering the ramifications of him missing his family because they had landed in different centuries only indicated how very tired she was.

"It's okay," she said with a yawn. "I can understand the feeling." She would have pulled away, on the off chance that such a thing might have gotten her dinner sooner, but she found that she just couldn't move. It was the strangest thing, but for the first time in her life she was content. Content in spite of a blinding headache from too much concentrating on the road, too little sleep, and continually doing her best to ignore what she was going to do when she returned to the States and faced the shambles that was her life.

"Food," Ian announced, "then a bed if they have one. I'll find some means of working for our keep this eve. Surely they have a handful of odd things needing to be done. Perhaps wood to be gathered for the fire or animals to be tended."