Trusted By The Highlander: A Scottish Time Travel Romance

by Rebecca Preston

  "Melanie," he breathed, surprise in his eyes.

  "I've been wanting to do that for a long time," she confessed, feeling her voice shaking a little with a combination of the shock and adrenaline of the confrontation with the strange men… and the undeniable desire that was coursing through her body, shaking her to her bones. She wanted more from him — much more — wanted to kiss him and hold him and never part from him — and from the way he was looking at her, the way his breathing seemed to have accelerated, she wasn't alone in that…

  But they couldn't exactly fall into each other's arms on the side of the road here, could they? He kissed her again, sweet and yearning, and she felt herself melt into his arms… but the sun was setting, and the night was closing in. Aelfred sighed a little as they parted, looking as keenly regretful as she felt as he gestured to the darkening sky.

  "I think we'd best head back to the castle," he said softly, that smile still dancing in those gorgeous silver eyes. "We'll have to leave the race for another day."

  "I think this has been more than enough excitement for one day," she agreed, her voice a little hoarse. He nodded, eyes shining, and the two of them laughed, breathless and giddy, as they turned and caught the horses, which had thankfully stayed reasonably close during the whole affair. They rode back together, not speaking much — just exchanging occasional loaded glances, and Melanie felt so full and giddy that it was like she could barely breathe.

  They headed into the castle together and worked together to put the horses away. The animals seemed a little confused by the short ride they'd been on, but happy enough to be heading to bed early, and Aelfred and Melanie headed into the castle. She was already beginning to worry that she'd simply dreamed the kiss, that it had all been some adrenaline-induced hallucination… and then she felt Aelfred's fingers slip into hers, and he shot her a quiet little smile as they headed up the stairs to the castle, hand in hand. Not a dream then, she thought with a dizzying rush of relief. A delightful reality. She'd worry about what it meant for their friendship — and for her future here — later. Right now, she was flying high on endorphins, and she was determined to allow herself to enjoy that feeling, at least for a little while.

  They ate at the Laird's table that night. Aelfred found Brendan to fill him in on what had happened, but the guard Captain frowned, clearly worried by what they were reporting, and invited them to share their tale directly with the Laird. It felt a little strange to be seated at the high table again, but it was also quite nice to sit by Aelfred's side in company.

  "And you said it was half a dozen men?" Laird Donal said with a frown once they'd shared the bare bones of the story. Aelfred was nodding.

  "There were eight of them," Melanie put in, glad she'd counted. "They looked like villagers, but I don't think I've met any of them."

  "There are bands of witch hunters that roam the country," Brendan said with a frown. "But they're generally attired like mercenaries, with real weapons. If they were mostly wielding clubs, and looked like farmers…"

  "I'd be very surprised if they were trained fighters," Aelfred said with a shake of his head. "They seemed much more like village militia, stirred up into doing something stupid by some leader or other."

  "Their leader didn't seem like the type, though," Melanie said, leaning forward. "He seemed frightened of something. Spoke about someone who scared him much more than either of us did, when we tried to question him about what he and his men were doing attacking strangers on the road."

  Aelfred gave her a quick smile before turning back to the Laird. "Is this a common occurrence?" he wanted to know. "I know some people have their problems with Changelings, but everyone in the village and the Keep have been so kind to us thus far…"

  "It's certainly not usual," Laird Donal said with a frown. "What worries me is the spreading of rumors that you two are making use of wicked magics. That kind of story can get out of hand very quickly. There's suspicions about where people are from… and then there are suspicions about what people are capable of. Maggie herself makes no secret of having spent time in the Fae, but the villagers are accepting of her, if a little suspicious. The fact that a band attacked you personally…"

  "I haven't even done anything," Melanie said crossly. "I'd understand being accused of witchcraft if I had … I don't know, future skills like medicine or knowledge of science or whatever, but all anyone's seen me doing is riding a horse badly and learning how to fight. Not exactly witch stuff."

  Laird Donal chuckled, but she could see the worry in his eyes. "We'll look into it," he promised, glancing up at Brendan. "See to it that your men ask around in the surrounding villages to see if anyone's stirring up trouble."

  "Good thinking," Brendan said. "Best to keep you off patrol for a little while, Aelfred."

  He sighed, his silver eyes forlorn. "I was looking forward to that," he said, and Melanie felt her heart twist. "But I'll man the walls for a little longer."

  "It would be best to stay close to the Keep until we can get to the bottom of this, too," Anna said gently, reaching out to touch Melanie's hand. "I know it sucks, but if I were you, I wouldn't go riding alone for the next little while. The fact that you were attacked so close to the Keep… that's scary. And who knows what would have happened if you'd been on your own?"

  "I think Melanie would have handled them alone easily," Aelfred said brightly, giving her a smile.

  She smiled back, pleased by the compliment… but she knew, deep down, that he was being overly optimistic. One woman versus eight men? They'd have disarmed her, she knew they would have. Who knew what could have happened that afternoon if it hadn't been for Aelfred at her side? No — she'd have to retire from solo rides, at least until they found out what was going on. It sucked, but it was a lot better than getting captured by a bunch of men who thought she was a witch.

  "I'll stay in the Keep," she promised, and the look of relief on Anna's face was clear. "At least until we figure out who's spreading these rumors."

  She only hoped, for her sake as well as Aelfred's, that that would be sooner rather than later.

  Chapter 24

  In the end, she headed up to bed quite early, overcome by tiredness. Did it have something to do with the adrenaline of the conflict with the band of men on the road? she wondered. The aftermath of adrenaline could often be exhausted. She also needed some time to herself, to think about what had happened between her and Aelfred… about what it would mean for them. And though part of her wanted nothing more than to stay at his side for the rest of the evening, once dinner was over she said her goodnights and headed up the stairs alone.

  It felt oddly lonely in her little room, in her narrow little bed. It was warm enough, with the heat from the little fire at the other end of the room keeping her cozy, but she couldn't help but feel like it would be better if someone else were there with her, keeping her warm, distracting her from the lingering worry about being attacked on the road… the pleasant imaginings of Aelfred quickly gave way to worry, again, as her mind returned to their attackers. What had those men wanted? What had they thought they were doing, attacking two travelers like that? What would they have done, had Aelfred and Melanie not stopped them?

  Tonight, her dreams weren't pleasant dreams of Aelfred or the life they might have together… they were frightening instead, worrisome, drenched in fear and anxiety. In them, she was riding down a long road, all by herself, a sword at her hip and her horse uneasy underneath her. It was a foggy road, and she could barely see ten feet in front of her, or to the sides… and through the mist, she could just make out figures, armed figures, lunging at her through the gloom. But as soon as she turned to look at them, reached for her sword to confront them… they were gone as quickly as they'd arrived.

  She woke restless and groggy, and headed down to breakfast with a sour taste in her mouth. Just when she'd finally been enjoying herself here, finally gotten a few hobbies and started to really feel like she was settling in… mobs of armed men had to star
t attacking her. Of course. She ate breakfast and was halfway out to the stables, hoping that a nice long ride around the Loch would distract her, when she groaned and slapped herself on the forehead. Of course. Hadn't she promised to stay within the castle walls, at least for a little while, to keep herself safe? Great. Now she couldn't even distract herself with a ride.

  Well, maybe she could channel all that anxious energy into her training instead. She headed back inside to change her clothing, tired of fighting in skirts. She had a couple of pairs of trousers now, and she was going to wear those for her training, gender roles be damned. Aelfred had said he didn't really think about gender, so neither would she. Grinning to herself and feeling a lot more comfortable in a tunic and some trousers, she headed down the stairs with a spring in her step, catching more than a few confused looks from servants who were more used to seeing her in skirts.

  It was a great deal easier to fight in pants. She ran through the simple drills Aelfred had taught her first, warming her body up and smiling a little as she realized how much easier it was to move without great handfuls of fabric gathering around her legs. Did that have something to do with why so few women seemed to be interested in learning more than the basics of swordplay? Being stuck in uncomfortable clothing wouldn't exactly make the work any more pleasant… she shook her head as she ran through her drills, annoyed again by the inequality of it all. If she had daughters, she'd let them wear whatever they liked. But that raised the thought of Aelfred again, and she felt herself getting distracted by those fantasies. What would a child of theirs look like? Would they have his silver eyes, she wondered… or was that a gift that only the Fae could give?

  Running through the drills didn't exactly fix what was wrong, but it did make her too exhausted to resent having to stay within the castle walls, and that was good enough. She headed up to the walls to meet Aelfred for lunch as was their habit, and he met her, looking similarly weary but as pleased to see her as he ever was. It seemed that Aelfred, too, hadn't had an especially good night's sleep.

  "I don't like the idea that there are people who dislike me," he confessed, shaking his head. "I haven't done anything to harm anyone. I want to help."

  "I know that," she said softly, glancing up and down the wall to ensure they weren't being observed… then reaching up to press a kiss to his cheek. His eyes shone with delight at that, and he half-laughed, leaning in to kiss her quickly before pulling back, clearing his throat as a pair of guards rounded the nearby corner. Still, the two of them couldn't stop from giggling as they ate, exchanging shy glances. It felt so much easier to be with him, now that she knew her feelings for him were reciprocated… she only wished they could have a little more time to themselves. Proper private time, just the two of them… not spied on by curious fellow guards.

  She realized she hadn't spoken with her fellow time-lost women since things between her and Aelfred had escalated. They'd all gone through courtship in the Keep… maybe they'd have some advice about where and how she and Aelfred could get a little bit of privacy…

  The next few days dragged on, both of them waiting impatiently to hear back from the guards who were asking questions in the nearby villages, trying to get to the bottom of the rumors of wicked magics that were keeping her and Aelfred trapped in the Keep. They snatched as much time as they could, here and there, exploring the new physical dimension to their relationship around the Keep… in quiet corners here and there, in the back of the stables, even atop the Wall when his fellow guards were elsewhere. Kissing him was exhilarating, and every time she fell into his arms she felt her desire burn brighter — she was already beginning to wonder about medieval approaches to contraception. Not that it had gotten that far, yet… and short of inviting him back to her room one night which would surely be met with scandal if anyone saw him entering or leaving the room she had no idea if it ever would.

  Still… she badly wanted him. And she could tell from the desire in his eyes, the way his breath quickened when he touched her, that he wanted her too. It was almost enough to take her mind off what was going on… almost, but not quite.

  It was midday on the fourth day when Father Caleb came to visit the Keep. She had been dining with Aelfred up on the wall, talking and laughing about something that had happened at breakfast, when they glanced over the wall and saw the priest coming down the land bridge that connected the island on which the Keep stood to the mainland. Melanie's eyes widened. He was a Catholic priest and no mistake — the robes were a dead giveaway, and she'd heard about Father Caleb from the villagers and the castle folk. The huge church in the village was where he gave his sermons, and he was well known and well liked in the area… as well as by the Grants, who had found in him an occasional ally.

  It was with curiosity that the two of them headed down the stairs to greet him, interested to know why he'd made the long trip out to the castle. He was a younger man than she'd expected, a rather sallow-looking youth in his mid-twenties, but his eyes were clear when he looked at her. She was also surprised by his accent when he spoke. She'd gotten so used to the soft lull of the Scottish accents around her that hearing him speak made her eyes widen before she placed the accent. It was an Irish accent — a little different to the Irish-American accents she'd heard plenty of back home, and rather beautiful in its own way.

  "An unfamiliar woman in unusual garb," he said, raising an eyebrow as he looked at her — belatedly, she remembered she was wearing trousers again, having been training that morning with the short sword. "You must be this Melanie Orwell I've heard so much about. I'm Father Caleb."

  "Nice to meet you, Father," she said with a smile, feeling a little odd about calling a man so much younger than her 'father'. It didn't seem to fit him just yet… though she had a suspicion he would grow into it well. "This is Aelfred Grant," she added, gesturing to the man at her side, who was examining the priest with fascination.

  "Ah yes, I've heard about you, too. Welcome home," Father Caleb said with a troubled smile. "I'm afraid I don't bring the best news… but shall we go inside? I believe the Laird is expecting me."

  Together, they headed into the dining hall, Melanie and Aelfred exchanging slightly worried looks behind the priest's back. What had he meant by not bringing the best news? Was it something to do with the group of men who'd waylaid them by the road? From what she'd heard about Father Caleb from the other women, he was well liked and trusted by the villagers, and often came to share troubling news with them when he sensed rumors and the like growing among his flock. His help and advice had been instrumental in keeping many of the women safe over the years, and they all spoke rather highly of him. Still, it didn't bode well that he was here with bad news, now did it?

  They settled in for lunch, Laird Donal, Captain Brendan, Father Caleb, Aelfred and Melanie. She was a little apprehensive, and only nibbled at her bread roll, having finished most of her lunch already up on the wall with Aelfred. He seemed happy enough to indulge in a second meal, but his silver eyes were fixed on Father Caleb as he exchanged pleasantries with Laird Donal and the Captain.

  "As to why I've come," he said finally, clearing his throat. "I've been speaking with your guard, Brendan, so I'm familiar with the goings on over the last few days. I reasoned that my own insight into the spirit in the village might help with what you're trying to learn."

  "We're always very pleased to have your insights, Father," Laird Donal said with a nod, gesturing for the man to continue.

  "First of all — these rumors aren't restrained by any means to the village closest to your castle," Caleb said, looking worried. "Though I spend the most time with them, many in my flock do travel from surrounding villages, and it seems that word of your presence here has spread far and wide. That's the both of you, I'm afraid — Melanie and Aelfred both."

  "Why?" she said with a frown. "Neither of us have done anything."

  "That's never been a problem before," Laird Donal said, shaking his head. "The accusations we've heard about our guests…
well, I've more than a few stories I could share."

  "The Laird himself hasn't been immune, either," Father Caleb said, chuckling as he shook his head. "These villagers leap to witchcraft as an explanation for… oh, most anything they don't understand. But these rumors are persistent, and unusual. They claim, Aelfred, that you're a witch and impostor… and I'm afraid they say the same of your companion Melanie."

  "A witch and an impostor," Aelfred repeated drily. "Who am I supposed to be impersonating?"

  "I can't say I understand," Father Caleb said softly, shaking his head. "But I'm afraid there are a few groups rather adamant that something ought to be done about all this. They want me to interfere on their behalf… or to hire a band of witch hunters to do the same."

  Laird Donal gritted his teeth. "Not that nonsense again."

  Melanie had heard a little about witch hunters — bands of mercenaries, usually, who roamed the countryside, looking for opportunities to earn a little coin dealing with 'witchcraft' — which was generally anything that the locals didn't understand. The matter was a little complex here, though, where guarding the Burgh meant that occasionally, real supernatural threats did get loose. Ironic, that the witch hunters were more frequently sent after the men and women of the Keep, who guarded the people from supernatural threats.

  "What can we do to prove we're not witches?" Melanie wanted to know, leaning forwards.

  "Not much," Donal grumbled, shaking his head — it was clear that the Laird was still annoyed by the accusations he himself had faced regarding his so-called witchcraft.

  But Melanie was frowning. "The villagers are all devout Catholics, is that so?"

  "More or less," Caleb confirmed. "Some of them more than others, but…"