RESCUED BY THE HIGHLANDER

by Preston, Rebecca

  After poking around for a little while, she found herself face-to-face with a young woman in servant’s garb — not Emily, but a woman her age, with bright eyes and dark hair.

  “Can I help you, ma’am?”

  “I was wondering if I could lend a hand,” Anna said, gesturing around to the flurry of activity. The woman’s eyes widened.

  “Oh, that’s very kind of you, but honestly, we wouldn’t want you to trouble yourself —”

  “No, I’d like to help,” she protested. “There’s only so much time I can spend wandering the castle … please, I’d like to do something useful.”

  “If you’re sure — but please, the minute you grow weary, you feel free to leave us, alright?” The woman smiled, taking her hand and pressing it. “I’m Amelia.”

  “Anna. Nice to meet you. What’s happening?”

  “The Great Wash!” Amelia’s eyes were sparkling. “Well, not so great. We’re doing all the bedsheets today — they’ve been soaking since yesterday, so today we’re spreading them out in the sun to dry while the weather holds.”

  “The whole castle’s sheets?”

  “Oh, aye!” Amelia rolled her eyes, lowering her voice conspiringly. “The headwoman makes us do it once a month. She says cleanliness is next to Godliness, but we all think it’s a bit excessive. Still, nobody in the castle’s ever complained of bedbugs, so I suppose it must be working.”

  Anna quietly reflected on her own laundry routine — her bedsheets were tossed into her little laundry machine every Sunday, regular as clockwork. Once a month sounded like not nearly often enough… but she knew it was frequent for these times, when laundry took so much more effort. She looked around at the baskets of wet sheets that were stacked on every available surface — as she watched, a gaggle of servants came through the door, talking and laughing, gathered a few baskets and headed back out again. Amelia grabbed a basket, glancing back at Anna.

  “Shall we?”

  Anna grabbed a basket of her own and followed Amelia out into the hall — they were heavy with the damp fabric inside, but not as heavy as the packs she’d carried during her training. Still, the spiral staircase was a bit of a challenge. She took her time, moving carefully, and laughed a little when she reached the bottom to find Amelia waiting for her.

  “Sorry,” she said, grinning. “Still getting used to the staircase.”

  “Oh, I fell down them a dozen times my first week here,” Amelia confided, her eyes sparkling. “Much better to take your time than to break an ankle.”

  They walked out of the castle doors to where the gates stood open, and Anna smiled a little to feel the touch of the sun on her face. No wonder they’d chosen today for the laundry — the sun was brighter than it had been since she’d arrived here, blazing overhead. It had to be around midday. Amelia led her through the gates and down a little path to a grassy hillside that had been cleared, it seemed, of plant life — half the hillside was strewn with off-white fabric, the bedsheets of the castle shining in the sun as they dried. It made quite a beautiful sight… especially with the dark waters of the Loch off to one side. It was a good thing there was no wind. Amelia told her that on windy days, sometimes the sheets went flying into the Loch.

  “Does the monster bring them back?” Anna joked — but Amelia just nodded.

  “Oh, aye. She’s a great help.”

  They finished spreading their sheets out to dry and carried their empty baskets back to the castle, talking and laughing. But Anna had an ulterior motive — she gestured to Amelia’s clothing, a simple long-sleeved cotton dress with an apron over it.

  “So, sheets are once a month. But how often do you wash your clothes?”

  Amelia rolled her eyes. “Too often! These are work clothes,” she added, gesturing to the dress. “We all share, which is why they don’t really fit. Wear one for a couple of days, toss it into the big basket in the servant quarters upstairs, grab a clean one from the hamper. The basket gets washed whenever it’s full.”

  “Could I borrow some?” Anna asked, intrigued by the idea of communal work uniforms. She’d had a job in a cafe as a young woman once where uniforms had worked similarly — except it had just been aprons that were shared, not the whole outfit. “I’d like to spend more time helping out, but I don’t want to ruin these ones.”

  “I don’t see why not,” Amelia said cheerfully. “You might need to rummage about a bit to find a smaller set, though. No offence,” she added hastily.

  Anna laughed. “None taken. I’m used to it.”

  At the end of the afternoon, Anna had three things — a sore back from hauling laundry, a deeper and more profound appreciation for the dryer that lived in her apartment, and a set of work clothes all her own. It almost felt like getting into combat uniform — she felt like a part of the crew, a cog in the machine that was the castle. And a useful cog, too. They’d gotten the laundry done ahead of time thanks to the extra set of hands and were able to start bringing in the sheets that had been outside for the longest and were already dry. By the time night had fallen, the laundry was done… and though Anna was more than willing to help start making beds, Amelia waved her off with a laugh.

  “No! You’ve already done too much!” She grinned. “You’ll give the headwoman terrible ideas if you keep helping us be done so far ahead of schedule. Go and have some dinner.”

  As if on cue, her stomach growled. Dinner sounded excellent after a long day’s work.

  It felt good, she reflected as she bustled downstairs, enjoying the way her apron and skirts swished around her legs. It felt good to be a part of a team, to be contributing in a concrete way to the functioning and wellbeing of the castle. It was part of why she liked being in the Army, that teamwork — that feeling of being a part of something greater than yourself. Thanks to her — and her comrades on the laundry team today — the castle would sleep in clean, fresh beds tonight. No bedbugs, no lingering traces of disease… and her whole body felt pleasantly warm, like she’d done a good amount of physical work. She liked that, too. No sense lying about all day, being a lady of leisure and putting on weight. That wasn’t the life she wanted.

  She sat with Maeve at dinner, who raised an eyebrow at her servants’ clothes. “Are you sure, dear?” was all she’d say when Anna explained how she’d spent her day.

  “I enjoy it, Maeve, honestly,” Anna said. How to explain to a woman who’d worked her whole life to rise to a station above the nitty-gritty of domestic labor that she actually enjoyed the work? Anna was a little concerned she’d get suspicious of her… it wouldn’t do to have her plan fall apart because Maeve cottoned on. “I like to feel like I’m making a contribution to the castle, you know?”

  “Well, there are other things than laundry you could do, surely,” Maeve said, wrinkling her nose.

  “Well, I could help train the men,” Anna pointed out with a raised eyebrow, “but that’s not exactly the most popular idea I’ve ever had, is it?”

  Maeve sighed. “As long as you’re happy, dear.”

  They chatted away about the various goings-on in the castle for the rest of the meal. Dark had fallen properly by the time they finished their meal, and Maeve said goodnight before disappearing up the spiral staircases in the main hall. Anna wondered, not for the first time, how the woman spent her evenings… did she embroider or sew, like many ladies? Did she read, perhaps? Or did she just get an early night, ready for another bright and early morning of overseeing the castle?

  Well, Maeve may have been a mystery, but Anna knew what she was going to spend this evening doing. She knew that at night, all the guards and soldiers were either on duty on the walls or enjoying their free time — or asleep. The maintenance roster she’d looked at in the armory, from what she’d been able to tell, only had guards working on the weapons and armor during the day. That meant that at night, the place would be abandoned. And from what she could tell, the door wasn’t often locked. After all, who in the castle would bother stealing weapons or armor? Anyo
ne who needed a weapon had one.

  Sure enough, when she tried the door to the armory, it was open. The hallway was dark and deserted, but she still threw a glance over her shoulder before she slipped inside the armory. In her servants’ clothes, just as she’d expected, nobody looked at her twice. She’d completed the disguise, too, by grabbing a tray and a plate of food. She’d often seen servants carrying food on trays like these, and sure enough, there had been dozens in the kitchen, ready to grab. Perhaps the occultists worked late nights sometimes. At any rate, it made a useful cover story for why she was wandering the hallways late at night.

  She put the tray down and stole through the armory like a ghost. She knew exactly where she was headed and was thankful that Donal had shown her around a few days ago. It made it easier to find the collection of black iron dirks, even in the darkness. They were all well-maintained, sharp and free of rust — she grabbed one more or less at random, confident that any choice at all would suffice, and spent a moment finding a way of stashing it inside her servants’ clothes so that it would be secure, and invisible to anyone who looked at her closely. That done, she grabbed the plate again and slipped out of the armory. Would the dirk be missed? Possibly, she thought, thinking of the incredibly detailed maintenance roster. But with any luck, it wouldn’t be missed so sorely that they’d start searching servants for stolen weapons. After all, things went missing all the time. Anna did hope nobody would get into trouble on her account, though.

  As she closed the armory door behind her, though, a voice carried down the hallway, startling her so badly that she almost dropped her tray of food.

  “You there! What are you doing?”

  Chapter 26

  Anna spun around, her heart pounding. The voice had been unfamiliar — a woman’s voice, sharp and hard. Had she been caught stealing weaponry? What would the punishment be? Surely Laird Donal wouldn’t let her suffer too badly — but then again, could she really trust him to spare her? He was an impulsive man with a quick temper, and she’d been robbing his armory…

  “That tray’s for Laird Donal, what on earth are you doing down here?”

  The woman was moving toward her down the hallway, an impatient look on her face. She was in her sixties at least, but tall — taller than Anna, though that wasn’t a difficult bar to clear. She wore an apron like Anna’s, but there was something about her bearing that reminded her much more of a drill sergeant than a servant. Could this be the headwoman that the girls spoke about in such hushed tones? Anna’s suspicions were confirmed when the woman got closer — she had keen blue eyes, sharp as gimlets, and she scrutinized Anna for a long moment.

  “I don’t know you.”

  “I’m Anna,” she explained, her heartrate settling a little as she realized that the woman hadn’t thought she was stealing weapons. “I’m new, I just got turned around —”

  “You’re the one the Fae sent us.” The headwoman tilted her head, looking thoughtful. “My girls mentioned you helped with the wash today. They spoke very highly of you.”

  “It was the least I could do.”

  “Many do less,” the woman said shortly. “I’m Blair, the headwoman. We’ll be seeing one another. Donal’s quarters are on the sixth floor, not this one,” she added, nodding to the tray. “Fourth door, east wall.”

  “Oh, right,” Anna said — she’d almost forgotten she was holding it. Blair’s eyes were a terrifyingly sharp shade of blue. “Of course. I’ll get this to him right away.”

  “Good of you.” The woman was already gone, deceptively long strides carrying her down the hallway toward whatever other servants she had to chasten.

  Anna smiled to herself, pleased to put a face to the name of the headwoman who so terrified the servants. She liked women like that — unapologetic, ferocious. And she was very grateful not to have been caught out for stealing a dirk.

  Of course, now she had to take her randomly assembled plate of food up to Donal. She’d actually been intending to eat it herself in her room, so she couldn’t help but feel a stab of annoyance — but she supposed it was the least she could do in return for the sharp dirk she could feel digging into her back. So, she set off up the stairs, counting the floors as she went. Sixth floor, she thought — that was close to the top of the castle. She supposed she’d take a room that high up if she had her choice, too.

  There were a number of doors in the sixth-floor hallway, and she hesitated a little before remembering Blair’s instructions. The fourth door in the east wall. Perhaps he liked the sunrise, she thought — he seemed like the kind of guy who had trouble getting up early. It seemed like he got work done late at night, if her task of bringing him food was anything to go by. She tapped on the door, a little hesitant, and heard his gruff voice calling her in.

  His quarters were rather sparse for a Laird’s — her first impression was a rather severe one. A single room, with an adjoining door that presumably went to his bathroom. A great big bed in one corner, neatly made — the servants had worked fast in making all the beds in the castle, Anna thought to herself with a smile. A huge chest of drawers, with a helmet resting on top of it. And a big table, absolutely covered in paper, books, and mess. This was where Donal was sitting, hunkered over what looked like an enormous ledger, frowning. The light in the room was low, with only a couple of candles on the table casting their light across the room.

  She moved to the table, not wanting to disturb him — he looked so focused (and rather handsome by candlelight, she couldn’t help but observe, feeling a blush starting to creep across her cheeks.) He seemed very used to having food brought to him — he waved vaguely at a part of the table that seemed to have a bit less mess on it than the rest, and she put the tray there, glad she’d thought to add cutlery to the collection. Maybe she’d go downstairs and make herself a different plate — if there were any leftovers left, that was. She’d be very cross if this was the last of the meat.

  He didn’t even look up, and she retreated across the room quietly, almost glad he hadn’t recognized her — she didn’t really want to talk to him at the moment, not with the tension still lingering between them. Besides, she felt guilty for stealing a weapon from his armory. And she knew she’d be leaving soon, too — there was no sense in getting attached to the guy, in making a friendship (or something more, she thought, blushing more) with someone she was never going to see again. After all, if she made it back to her own time, he was going to be a historical figure, nothing more. Perhaps she’d see if she could find records of him in the history books. Laird Donal Grant.

  “Wait a moment.” Her hand was on the door handle when he spoke, and she froze. Had she forgotten something? “Anna? Is that you?”

  She sighed, turning around with a rueful little smile. A wild impulse to play the whole thing off as a joke struck her, and she sketched a little curtsy, swishing her skirts around as she did so. “At your service, m’lord.”

  He was staring at her. “What on earth are you doing in those clothes, woman?”

  “Bringing you your dinner, as you’re too important to dine with us common folk,” she said in a passable attempt at a Scottish accent. She had a decent ear for voices, and she’d been surrounded by that lilting accent for days.

  But her joking around didn’t seem to be working. He was scrutinizing her, his work forgotten, and the hint of a smile was playing around the edges of his lips. “Oh, aye? You just decided to dress up as a servant and bring me my dinner?”

  It occurred to her, in a sudden rush, that she was very much alone in this man’s bedroom. In her own time, that wasn’t much of a remarkable occurrence — after all, she’d shared bedrooms with dozens of men all the time as a soldier. But this was the sixteenth century. She wasn’t a soldier, she was — for all intents and purposes — a single woman. And he was a man — an unmarried man, from what she could gather, and a Laird. Being a Laird came with certain… well, privileges. It was reassuring that she had a weapon tucked away on her person… but at the same tim
e, she couldn’t help but think that if he did try anything with her, fighting him off certainly wouldn’t be her first instinct…

  “I was bored,” she said, jutting her chin out at him defiantly. “There’s only so much walking about a castle you can do before you want to find something to do.”

  “I thought you were unwell.”

  “I was,” she admitted. “I had an awful cold for a few days. Then Maggie sent me some wraps, and… well, you know how she is.”

  “Oh, aye? So, you believe in her magic now that you’ve had first-hand experience?”

  “I’ve got no choice, do I?” This was good. Keep him off the subject of her presence in his room for as long as possible, that was the way. “I felt like I was about to die, then I put these herbal wraps on, an hour later I was fighting fit.”

  “She doesn’t often heal people she doesn’t know well,” Donal observed, raising an eyebrow. “She must like you.”

  “Is that so surprising?”

  He grinned, the candlelight moving across his handsome face. He still hadn’t gotten up from the table, but somehow, he was still as intimidating as if he’d been standing above her. He was a formidable man, she was beginning to realize. It was intimidating… but at the same time, it was making her heart flutter in a way decidedly unbecoming of a trained soldier. Get yourself together, Anna, she scolded herself.

  “I suppose you have your charms,” he allowed, that smile still dancing in his eyes. “Is this what you came here for? To ask me if you’re … likeable?”

  “I was bringing you your dinner as a favor to Blair, actually,” she challenged him, putting one hand on her hip. How dare he suggest that she had a crush on him? How dare he — well, figure out the truth, she supposed. But still. Rude. “Do you assume every servant who visits you is secretly in love with you?”

  “Many of them are.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Of course you think that.”