Highland Magic Ch 32

For the past week, Cien had been learning about the future. Somehow there was a very real difference between Regan telling him about it, and being there, living it. He remembered how she spoke of her time as she lay there, fighting to stay awake and smiled. She had so obviously loved this time, this place.

And Cien could understand why.

Henry had been giving him lectures about the new world he was in. He had discovered hot showers that soothed the body and lasted a long while. He discovered electricity, which had scared the bejesus out of him at first but after explaining that there was no fire inside it and the devil did not have a pact with humanity for such a thing, Cien had eased down. When the telephone started ringing, Cien attacked it with his broadsword.

Needless to say, the proprietors needed a new phone.

But his favorite thing so far had been the cooking.

His first night there, the Lady Iris had labored over a meal to befit the King and God himself. Cien reveled in the flavors and smells. His favorite part had been the bread. There were no weevils or rocks or dirt in it. Amazing, he thought, and he had munched down another piece.

And now as he sat in front of the fire in the library, dressed in his modern frocks of what they called Jeans and a sweater, Cien brooded. He thought how he would feel knowing all of these modern conveniences and ease of doing things and was suddenly dropped in a time when they thought you a witch for thinking such things.

It boggled his mind. Regan had been strong, he knew that, but he hadn't realized how strong she was until seeing all these things. Leaning back in his chair he sighed. The lady Iris had been questioning him about his lady love. What was her name? What did she look like?

But Cien didn't want to answer. Right now, the only thing he had to cling to of the past was Regan. Her memory kept him pushing through his days. And he would not share her so easily. Not even with those who took him in and helped to take care of him. He would not share what little he had left of her.

Leaning back with a sigh he glanced at the clock. Iris had spent many an hour today teaching him how to tell the time. She explained the differences between a digital clock and the one above the mantle. That one only had little sticks to tell the time.

He much preferred the digital clock.

Studying it for a few minutes he decided it was afternoon when he couldn't understand the clock. It was a bit nippy out and he decided against going outside. He would dearly like to stay inside and wallow in his misery. He knew eventually Iris would nag her husband to come in here and attend to him. But he wished he could simply be left alone.

They were only trying to help him, that he knew, but his foul mood didn't dissipate.

He heard the front door to the Inn open and sighed. Henry told him the night before they had a guest set to arrive that day, and to try not to frighten them off. Cien had reluctantly agreed, but he prayed that they left him alone.

He could hear footsteps on the hardwood floor, light but still there. He wished he'd closed the door to the library then and there. It was only slightly open but enough to be bothered by whoever it was checking in.

"Hi," he heard the voice say.

Cien sat up straighter and listened. It couldn't be. He shook his head a bit wildly. No, it wasn't.

"My name is Regan Shepherd. I have a reservation?" Cien bounded out of the chair and ran to the door. Peering out he saw her. She looked happy but a bit tired. He knew she was tired when he saw the small wrinkles around her eyes.

"Of course, Ms Shepherd. I'm Henry Fraser, the proprietor." He held his hand out and she took it. "I see you made it in one piece."

She laughed then and Cien closed his eyes. Lord, how he had missed the sound of her laughter. "That I did Mr. Fraser."

"Please, call me Henry. If you'll just write in your information here, I would be more than happy to get your key for you, Ms Shepherd."

"Call me Regan, please." She said happily and bent down to scribble in the book.

Cien's heart was pounding so loudly he could hardly hear over it. She was alive, and she had just gotten to Scotland. Moving away from the door he leaned against a book case and tried to think over his racing thoughts.

"Iris!" he heard Henry shout.

He didn't see Iris, or Henry for that matter, but she must have been in the kitchen for she didn't answer immediately. "Now see here, old man, there will be no shoutin in this here house!"

"Iris, this here be Ms Regan. Show her to her room."

"Beggin your pardon my lady."

Cien didn't bother to listen to the rest of the conversation. He closed his eyes tightly and tried to remember everything Regan told him about her trip to Scotland.

She had fallen asleep. He knew that much. After she was shown her room, jet lag had gotten to her, she'd said, and she'd fallen asleep. She'd explained Jet lag to him so he knew what it was. Then she had dreamed of him. She had blushed all the way through the confession, but she told him. She had dreamed of him, calling her his rose, and making love to her.

He opened his eyes and realized Iris was chatting with her as she took her up stairs. Cien looked out the crack in the door again and knew that she was going to go to sleep and dream of him.

Ideas began to pop into his mind and he had a sudden plan.

He was going to get his Rose back