THE PERFECT TEN (Boxed Set)

chickens and small children, the guards hurried them along the wide gravel-and-crushed shell paths, past the village’s stone houses. Anxious to see everything, Beth’s head bobbed and spun like a midway ride as she tried to catch glimpses of the sturdy stone homes’ interiors. Women, their arms loaded with babies—-some swaddled in crisscross fashion, others just settled on cocked hips—bobbed their curtsies as she waved and hurried past.
    “Kari, why are you racing hell bent for leather?” She really wanted to see the village, to seek a possible threshold back to her time.
    When her friend’s expression shifted from a smile to her what the heck are you saying look, Beth panted, “Why do ye make such haste?”
    Kari pointed to the mid-day sun. “‘Tis late.”
    Beth blinked. It wouldn’t be dark for at least six or seven hours. “I’d really like...” She came to an abrupt halt to stare up the nostrils of a shaggy bridled pony. One of the oarsmen held its reins.
    She shook her head. Cute and calm as the beast appeared, Beth’s only experience with horses amounted to patting the velvet muzzles of spit-and-polished police mounts. Examining the cracked and weathered sidesaddle, she asked, “Can’t we walk?”
    “Nay, m’lady.” Kari pointed high into the hills. “There is purpure.”
    Beth looked up at the groundcover tinting the steep hills purple and then at the sidesaddle. “Oh.” She chewed her lower lip. “There’s none lower?”
    Kari laughed, “Nay. Come, my lady, the sumpter willna bite.”
    Beth waved toward Kari’s pony. “You first.” After Kari mounted without difficulty, Beth exhaled and nodded to her guard. He bent at the waist and laced his fingers. She stepped up as Kari had done, only to find herself suddenly flopped over the saddle and clutching the poor animal’s mane for dear life. She heard Kari giggle and flashed a warning look. She then growled at the grinning guards for good measure.
      Once she had her right leg draped over the pummel, the snickering guards mounted and led them single file into the hills. The higher they went the shoddier the homes became, some were merely stone and waddle facades placed across little caves dug into steep slopes. Wandering stonewalls kept grazing cattle from devouring the scattered fields of waving oats and rye. Seeing a painfully thin woman struggling uphill under the weight of a wooden yoke balanced by hide bags full of water, Beth grimaced with guilt. Not two weeks ago she’d been put out because she couldn’t get hot water on demand.
    This Scotland had nothing in common with the splendid manor homes and manicured landscapes she’d become familiar with in her time.
    As they rode higher, Kari murmured, “’Tis our place for the men and women who arrived after fleeing their own septs or have nay clan. The MacDougall provides refuge, protection, and food in exchange for a pledge of fealty. None bear our name.”
    Half way up one steep incline Kari pointed out the tiny stone cottage, saying it had once been Rachael and Isaac’s. How, Beth wondered, did people survive like this? And did Duncan not trust them?
    Within a few hours she and Kari had gathered armloads of heather, thistle, pine boughs and a collection of twisting vines that would substitute nicely for curly willow.
      For Beth, the ride down from the hills proved scarier than the ride up. Though the views were spectacular, full of panoramic seascapes, beautiful water falls—-burns—and an eagle’s view of all she could lay claim to, she could also see exactly where she’d land should her pony stumble on the shifting shale clattering beneath his hooves.
    When they finally reached the stable and dismounted, her legs shook so hard she couldn’t walk.
    Beth kissed the pony’s whiskered muzzle. “Thank you for not plunging over the cliff.”
    She turned for the boat and nearly collided with the priest.
    He reached out to steady her. “My lady, I will ride with ye to Blackstone. We need talk about yer conversion.”
    Beth shuddered. “Must we?”
    Scowling, he grasped her arm. “Aye, my lady, we must .”
    ~#~
    As soon as their boat reached Blackstone’s quay, Beth bolted. She’d had her fill of the priest and his edicts. How she managed to hold her tongue as he laid out his plan for her religious enlightenment, she’d never know. She’d rot in hell before she’d spend even one morning on her knees decrying herself for a heathen. Huh! She’d been sorely