RESCUED BY THE HIGHLANDER

by Preston, Rebecca

  “Well, that’s changed,” she said flatly, “because I’m ‘around here’ now, and if you think I’m going to spend the rest of my life doing nothing but raising babies because you’ve decided that’s all women are good for, you have another think coming.”

  “I’ll remind you I’m the Laird of this castle,” Donal snapped.

  There it was — she’d offended him, touched on his male pride somehow, and the anger was bubbling up. Well, he didn’t scare her. She’d taken down bigger men than him, armed and unarmed. Would it be too bold of her… surely not. What did she have to lose? She had to make this stand now — or spend the rest of her time here forced into a repressive, antiquated gender role.

  “Fight me,” she said, stepping back across the roof. “Come on.”

  “What?”

  “Fight me!” she repeated. “Unarmed. Hand-to-hand. I’ll show you what a woman warrior is.”

  He laughed in disbelief. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “I’d like to see you try,” she snapped, dropping her weight into her legs, getting ready. Her heart was pounding, adrenaline starting to move through her body at the prospect of taking this guy on. She’d have to be careful, though. Didn’t want to injure him if she threw him to the ground too hard — there were none of the soft padded mats she usually used for this kind of sparring.

  “Don’t be daft, woman, I’m not fighting you.” He stood, immobile, and she straightened up, realizing she wasn’t going to coax him into sparring with her just yet. Full of frustration — not helped by the energy and adrenaline in her system — she glared at him, her hands on her hips.

  “One of these days, you’re going to have to accept that I’m a fighter,” she warned him, her eyes narrowed.

  He looked back at her, clearly as frustrated as she was — though for different reasons. She felt a horrible sinking feeling in her stomach to be at odds with him like this. Such a shame — the hottest guy she’d met in years, and he had to be a chauvinist pig. But there was hope — she knew it. He clearly respected women on some level, or there wouldn’t be female herbalists and occultists in the castle. It wasn’t that he thought women were lesser in general… he just thought they couldn’t fight. He had all women put in some ridiculous, gender-essentialist box. And it was true — some women couldn’t fight. But neither could some men. Gender had nothing to do with it — if you taught a little girl to fight, she’d learn just as readily as a little boy, so long as you didn’t spend her whole life telling her that her gender meant she couldn’t do something. She’d find a way, Anna promised herself. She’d find a way to show him what a powerful warrior he was up against.

  “I’m sorry,” he said unexpectedly, moving over to her. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. It was rude of me.”

  “A little,” she admitted. “But I was pretty rude, too. And you are the Laird, like you said.”

  “Hmm.” He grinned a little. “You certainly are an unusual woman. Is everyone from your time so… forward?”

  She raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

  Was he blushing? “Last night. You were — ah. I mean. Did you mean to —”

  “Flirt with you?” His eyes widened. “I did.” She hesitated. “Sorry if I — you know, came on a little too strong. I was in an odd state of mind.”

  “I can understand that,” he chuckled, “you’d been through a lot.”

  “I hope it didn’t put you in an awkward position, or anything.” She seized the opportunity to ask a question she’d been wondering about since the night before. “With your — wife, or anything.”

  “Wife?” he said blankly, and she suppressed the urge to rejoice. “I don’t have a wife.”

  “Oh,” was all she said, nonchalantly — then she shivered as the wind stirred her hair. “It’s getting cold up here. Let’s go inside?”

  “Aye, certainly,” he agreed. “Perhaps I can show you around the armory? A fitting apology to a woman warrior.”

  There was still something slightly teasing in his voice when he said that — but Anna smiled. It was a step in the right direction. Imperiously, she extended her arm to him, and he took it in his, leading her across the roof for all the world like he was escorting her to a masquerade ball.

  Chapter 19

  “What’s on that pin you wear?” she asked as they moved down the stairs. “I’ve seen that symbol around — woven into tapestries and stuff.”

  “It’s the symbol of the Sept,” he explained, reaching out to steady her as they got to the bottom of the spiral staircase. His hand was warm where it brushed against her arm and she felt a rush of warmth in her chest, too. “We all wear it. And our motto.”

  They paused in the hallway and he unbuttoned the little pin from his tunic — she moved into his space to look at it as he offered it, feeling the warmth of his body, the smell of him. God, he smelled good. Fresh, and clean — but with that undeniably masculine touch of exertion. Pheromones, probably, she thought, trying to inhale deeply without making it seem like she was sniffing him. Powerful stuff. She wondered how she smelled? She hadn’t bathed since her dunk in the lake... she shook herself a little. He was explaining the little symbol to her.

  “It’s in Gaelic,” he explained as she scrutinized the back of the little badge — there was a beautiful, but unreadable print there. “It means…” He frowned. “Basically, that we’re like a lighthouse. A point of light in the dark for people to navigate by. To warn some away from danger, and to steer others home to safety.”

  “That’s beautiful,” she said softly, enjoying the opportunity to stand close to him. He didn’t seem particularly keen to dissuade her from her position, either. They stood there for a long, lingering moment — until a gaggle of servants rounded the corner of the hallway, their arms full of laundry, their voices loud and shrill as they laughed and gossiped.

  Donal stepped away from her so quickly it was like he’d been burned, and she grinned to herself a little secretly. That meant that he’d been aware of how close they were, the apparent intimacy of their positioning, and he didn’t want word to get around about it. Well. She certainly wouldn’t tell anyone.

  They continued through the castle, and he showed her around the armory — and this time, they were able to spend much more time examining every little detail. It was extremely well equipped, all told. There were a range of weapons — and more to spare — for everyone in the castle, and they were well maintained, too, with the men of the guard on a rotating roster of maintenance duty. That had been one of Malcolm’s initiatives as tanist, he explained. Until then, the maintenance had been fairly ad-hoc — whenever anyone was bored or had spare time (or, more commonly, as a punishment duty) they were sent to the armory to do some general maintenance on the weapons and armor. That often meant that the same weapons got polished over and over again, while others in the back got rusty. Anna scrutinized the incredibly detailed roster of work that was pinned to the door, impressed with how thorough it was.

  “This is good work,” she said thoughtfully. “I can see why you picked him over Brendan.”

  “Explain that to Brendan if you get a chance, will you?” Donal said ruefully.

  “Like I said — just tell him what he’s good at, and he’ll forgive you for slighting him. You’re best friends, aren’t you? He just needs a bit of tenderness, that’s all.”

  His mouth twitched. “He’s not a very tender man.”

  “Then he needs it all the more,” she said briskly. “Now show me this armor!”

  They passed a rather delightful afternoon in the armory, interrupted only by a few guards coming through to take their turn at the equipment maintenance roster. They gave the Laird and his companion curious looks, but Donal seemed content to keep talking with her about armor — though she noticed he made a point of keeping a physical distance from her when the other men were there. She supposed gossip travelled fast around the castle. Not that there was anything between them — well, she thought he was
hot, but that seemed to be about it.

  Lairds probably have to be careful about their romantic entanglements, she thought to herself as she affected close interest in a sword he was showing her. After all, marriages and the like were very political — much less about love and more about advantage. Donal was very unlikely to be interested in any kind of dalliance with some strange woman from the future who’d come crashing into his life. And fair enough, too — it wasn’t as though she was especially interested in fooling around with someone with such irritatingly backward views about women. But still, that awareness made her feel a little sad — disappointed, somehow, as though she’d been looking forward to something that had been cancelled at the last minute.

  Before she knew it, the sun was setting, an orange light filtering through the windows of the armory. Anna was shocked to realize they’d spent the whole afternoon in the armory — she hadn’t even noticed her stomach growling with hunger, she’d been so entranced with the stories Donal was telling her about all the various weapons and pieces of armor, the monsters they’d tracked down and fought — even occasional clashes with bandits and marauders, criminals who had tried a few times to take advantage of the undefended village before realizing that it was anything but undefended. She wasn’t sure she believed any of his stories about hunting down wild mythical beasts, of course, but they were fun stories, anyway — like the science fiction universes her brother had told her about so earnestly when they were kids.

  “I’ve kept you from your duties all day,” Anna said to Donal, a little sheepishly.

  “Nonsense. Duties can wait. It’s not every day I’ve the opportunity to show a pretty girl around an armory.” He laughed, his eyes crinkling with the genuine smile that spread across his face.

  She smiled back up at him, pleased that he’d called her pretty, resigned to the fact that it probably wouldn’t go any further than that. Whatever. This was fine. It was fun to flirt with a handsome man, spend a little time with him. It didn’t have to go any further than that. Still, when he leaned down to kiss her on the cheek in farewell, she felt her heart pounding. Better keep an eye on that, she cautioned herself, waving as Donal strode off down the hallway. It wouldn’t do to get strong feelings for someone she couldn’t have. Not when she had so much else to be getting on with.

  Once he’d gone, something occurred to her, and she frowned. Was it common practice to say goodbye by kissing people on the cheek in medieval times? A flare of hope that it wasn’t… that it had meant something. She wished she could talk to her SCA group, just quickly. Skype into the meeting that would be going on that evening. Hi guys, can’t stay long, just wondering if this medieval Laird is into me or just being polite... she giggled to herself. They’d be thrilled to help out, she knew. God, there had to be a way to get back to her own time, there just had to. She missed her group more than she thought she would.

  Without Donal to guide her, she felt at a bit of a loose end. Her stomach was definitely growling, though. How early was dinner, she wondered? She didn’t want to hang around the kitchen like a weirdo, but she was also very keen to eat as soon as humanly possible. She’d had a late breakfast, but missed lunch completely, and she knew she’d start getting dizzy soon if she couldn’t get her hands on some fuel. With dinner in mind, she set off down the spiral staircase, already beginning to get used to the spiraling steps. The first few times it had given her vertigo, but the more she used the staircases the more she appreciated their efficiency.

  She wasn’t alone in being keen for dinner, Anna realized with a grin as she emerged into the entrance hall of the castle on the ground floor. Sure enough, people were beginning to gather — she saw a dozen men in guard uniforms, talking and laughing with one another. Something very familiar about that — military organizations never changed much, she thought with a little smile. And behind them, to her great interest, she spotted a group of women, all wearing long black robes, deep in serious conversation with one another. One was holding what looked like an old book. They all wore pins like the one Donal had been wearing, and she realized they must be occultists. Fascinating… she considered walking over to talk to them, but before she could make a move, the doors to the dining hall swung open, and the assembled crowd began to move into the great hall.

  The smell all hit her at once, and if she’d thought she was hungry before, this brought her to a whole new level. Her mouth watering, she took a deep breath through her nose — dominant was the smell of roasting meat, but she could also pick up other aromas. She hesitated before walking in, feeling an oddly high-school pang of concern about where she was going to sit… then there was a hand on her arm. It was Maeve, appearing as though her uncertainty had summoned her.

  They sat together at one of the great tables. There didn’t seem to be any order or hierarchy to where people sat — she saw servants sitting with guards at one table, occultists and herbalists at another, men and women all intermingling. The Laird himself was sitting at another table, deep in conversation with a couple of the occultists she’d seen talking in the hall — his pale eyes flicked up as though he could sense her looking at him and he gave her a little wave and a smile that set her heart fluttering. God, that might turn into a problem, she thought to herself with a little surge of worry.

  “How was your afternoon?” Maeve asked, serving her a heaping plate of meat and mashed potatoes — hearty fare that set Anna’s mouth watering.

  “Great. Donal showed me the armory — I was very impressed by Malcolm’s maintenance roster,” she added, trying to speak clearly around her mouthful of food. It was absolutely delicious.

  Maeve laughed. “He’ll be pleased to hear it. He worked for weeks on that thing. If only he kept his own belongings in such rigorous order.”

  They chatted a little more over dinner, idle talk about what the day had brought, what the coming weeks would bring. But before Anna could bring up any of the burning questions she had — questions about the castle, about the century they were in, about possibly finding a way back through — there was a voice raised above the general hubbub of the room, and the people of the castle were quieting down. Laird Donal had called their attention — he was standing on the bench to elevate himself to be seen by everyone in the room, calling for silence.

  “Good evening,” he boomed. “I wanted to make a special introduction and welcome to a guest of ours that some of you have no doubt seen around the castle. Anna Clarke is a visitor, brought to us by the Seelie Fae themselves, for reasons that I’m sure will become clear. I hope you’ll all extend your warmest welcome to her.”

  He gestured to her to stand — flushing a little, she did, quickly swallowing the mouthful of food she’d been chewing on. Realizing that she was almost impossible to see above the heads of the crowd, she quickly hopped up onto the bench as Donal had — at least that way they could see some of her, she thought. She gave the room a little wave, smiling.

  “Thank you all for your hospitality,” she said, bracing her abdomen to make her voice echo around the room — an old trick from the army. One of the guys she’d known there was an amateur actor. There was a general murmur of friendly welcome, and she sat down, blushing a little still. Still — it felt nice, to have been formally welcomed, and the friendly smiles from the faces at her table made her feel more welcome still.

  It had been a strange day… but honestly, one of the better ones she’d had.

  Chapter 20

  Ah, the power of a hot meal on an empty stomach. The evening meal was only just beginning to draw to a close and Anna could feel herself getting very sleepy. She fought through it. Plenty of experience with that kind of fighting, after all. Basic training had almost been an exercise in sleep deprivation… bizarrely early wake-up times, sleeping in a room full of other recruits, only the bone-deep exhaustion of the physical effort of training drowning out the sounds they all made. She’d never been so tired in all her life… or had such high demands on her to learn, improve, train, sculpt her body and
mind into tools of war.

  Not that bloody Donal bloody Grant seems to have noticed, she thought crossly. How was she going to prove to him that she was a warrior if he wasn’t even willing to spar with her? It was a bizarre situation. Not that she was unused to men not believing in her… but those men usually would at least give her the time of day to prove herself. And prove herself she would, hundreds of times over if she had to. But even when she’d offered to show him she could fight — to spar with him, wrestle him, throw him to the ground if she’d had to… he’d refused, backed away. Was he scared of her? she thought with a flare of amusement. Maybe on some level he subconsciously didn’t want her to fight him, just in case she won. After all, people generally resisted confronting and changing their deeply held opinions about the way the world worked. Perhaps he just wasn’t interested in the intellectual discomfort of changing his preconceived understanding of gender. Whatever it was, it was deeply frustrating. How was she supposed to be of any use around here if the Laird wouldn’t accept that she was a warrior?

  After all, that had been the general conclusion from people in the know about why the Faeries had brought her here, right? She had some purpose to serve — they never just grabbed people for no reason. Not that she was fully reconciled to the idea of faeries… there were still a few more rational explanations that ranked above ‘supernatural creatures’ on the list of probably explanations for her presence here. They’d need to be exhausted before she accepted that faeries were real. This was all still hypothetical, as far as Anna was concerned. But if she was here for a purpose, that purpose must have something to do with her background as a soldier. If the Laird himself couldn’t accept that she was a soldier — and she had some great purpose to serve here — well, they were in trouble, weren’t they? The whole point of a soldier like her was that she worked best in a group. Yes, she was a fiercely competent individual — but the strength of the army wasn’t in it being a collection of strong individuals. It was the cohesive whole that they formed, greater than the sum of its parts. It was the trust, the camaraderie, the common language spoken by each individual piece of that puzzle. And if nobody was going to trust Anna, invite them into their army, just because she was a woman… well, she’d be nowhere near as effective as she could be, that was for sure.