Trusted By The Highlander: A Scottish Time Travel Romance

by Rebecca Preston

  "Myself and these witnesses have just uncovered a terrible crime," she told the crowd, trying to keep her voice steady. The villagers who'd accompanied her to Bran's house nodded, stepping up beside her, and she felt Olivia touch her shoulder, just gently, to reassure her. With the strength of their support, she continued. "There, we found the remains of Hannah, Bran's wife, whom he claims fled this area thirty years ago with their son."

  A ripple of shock went through the crowd, but her companions held firm, staring down the ruffled group. Bran was shouting that they were liars, that they'd made it up — but she could see his face, white with fear, and she knew they were on the right track. His supporters, though, were jeering, yelling that they had no proof, that they were liars in league with witches too, and even Father Caleb's best efforts didn't seem to be soothing the crowd.

  "Hannah wore this pendant every day of her life!" Olivia called now, her voice shaking with anger. "Anyone who knew her will recognize it. We found it on the body. Show them, Melanie!"

  She lifted the necklace, a little worried by the suggestion — would anyone in the crowd be close enough to look at the pendant properly, even if they did recognize it as belonging to a woman who'd died thirty years ago? But the crowd's reaction was irrelevant, in the end. Aelfred gasped, and she turned to him, seeing his eyes widen with horror, flickering with a storm of thoughts. He took a few steps forward, Brendan at his side, and the crowd recoiled — but he took the pendant from her and held it up in one shaking hand.

  "This was my mother's," he said faintly. "She wore it every day. I'd know it anywhere. I… I remember," he said, his tone full of horror. "I remember everything. I remember my father standing over her body, his hands at her throat — she screamed at me to run, that he'd kill me, that I had to run into the woods —"

  "Lies!" Bran came surging out of the crowd now, and Melanie recognized the white hot terror on his face as the last gasp of a desperate man. "Lies! The lies of a witch!"

  Aelfred drew himself up, his face a mask of fury. "You were going to kill me," he spat, his voice booming out over the now silent crowd. "A child. Your own son! You were determined to beat me — but my mother stopped you, didn't she? She stopped you — and you killed her for her trouble."

  "You're no son of mine, you're a demon!" Bran was unhinged fully now, his eyes wild, spit flying from his mouth as he screamed at Aelfred. Melanie's body was tense, torn between wanting to get away from Bran as quickly as possible, and not wanting to leave the defenseless Aelfred to bear the brunt of his fury. "You disappeared in a flash of light when she died! What human child is capable of such a thing?"

  "The Sidhe saved me," he shouted, his eyes wild. "They saved me from your wrath, as they save so many abused children — but they were too late to save my mother from your hand, weren't they?"

  "I'll kill you!" Bran shrieked. "I'll kill you like I killed her!"

  The crowd gasped, staggered by that — but Bran didn't even seem to know that he'd spoken. He'd hurled himself at Aelfred, his hands reaching out for his throat — but Aelfred was too fast for him. He stepped aside, nimbly reaching out for the stunned Brendan's belt, and drew his sword from its scabbard — then, using the flat of the blade as she'd seen him do a thousand times, he beat Bran back. It wasn't long before the man was cowed, dropped to his knees in the dirt with the blade pointed at his throat. Aelfred was breathing hard, his mother's necklace still clutched in his hand, a wild look on his face, and for a moment, Melanie felt her breath catch in her throat. Was he going to kill his father, right here in front of the entire village? She could sense from the stillness in the crowd that that was what they were expecting, too…

  But Aelfred lifted his head, staring out at the crowd. "I am a man of the Watch," he said, his voice strained. "I believe in justice. I believe in a trial. I am no executioner." His face twisted. "And I don't kill the defenseless."

  And with that, he turned on his heel and strode back into the cottage. Bran looked almost catatonic, his eyes fixed on the ground, swaying where he knelt — there were welts already coming up on his arms where he'd been struck, and the other men of the Watch moved forward to take him by the arms, lifting him up onto his feet and binding his hands behind him. Melanie staggered a little, and Olivia supported her, her eyes glowing.

  "We did it," she whispered. "That was a confession, heard and witnessed by the men of the Watch, Father Caleb himself, and half of the village."

  Sure enough, the murmurs were spreading through the crowd — Melanie could see Bran's friends slinking away, clearly cowed by the unexpected turn of events here. But she didn't care about the villagers, didn't care about Father Caleb, didn't care about anything except Aelfred, and where he'd gone. She left the priest to sort out the bedraggled crowd and all but ran into the cottage, finding Aelfred standing by a window, staring blankly out into the night with the pendant clutched in his hand.

  "Melanie," he said softly, turning to look at her with wonder in his eyes. "I thought I'd lost you."

  "Almost," she admitted, thinking back to the severity of the wound. "I've got Maggie to thank for my quick turnaround… but it'll probably leave a scar."

  "How did you…" He took a deep breath. "How did you find this?"

  "I had a hunch," she said simply. "Trusted my instincts and went digging. We found her," she said softly, taking his hand. "Buried in the backyard…"

  "In her vegetable garden," Aelfred said, shaking his head. "She'd been digging in it all day, the soil would have been easy to move. He's a monster."

  "He'll see justice now," she said, squeezing his hand. "We did it."

  Aelfred smiled at her, grief and hope mingling on his face. "You did it," he corrected her, that beautiful smile wreathing his face again.

  "Look," she said, gesturing to the window. "The sun's coming up."

  They stood together in silence, watching the light begin to filter into the village again… and hoping that the end to this long, dark night would also be the end to all the trouble they'd faced.

  Chapter 30

  After that long, long night, it seemed like time flew by twice as quickly to make up for it. Bran's trial was held as quickly as possible, organized by the village council as well as Father Caleb and representatives from the Watch, including Laird Donal himself. It was a public affair, with everybody from both villages invited to share their testimony — in the end, it took several days. Melanie and Aelfred both spoke at length, explaining their side of the story, and to her relief, it seemed that the idea that they were both witches had been dismissed as a silly rumor.

  Bran was a broken man. She'd expected him to speak in his own defense, but he barely said anything — it seemed that his frenzied accidental confession in front of the whole village was too much to come back from, especially with the testimony of everyone who had been present. When called upon to express remorse, though, he was equally silent, and the panel who were sitting in judgment exchanged worried glances.

  In the end, the trial took three days — one of those days being dedicated to arguments about what punishment was fitting for the unrepentant innkeeper. Aelfred was invited to take part in the discussion, but he declined on the grounds that he felt he couldn't be objective about the right kind of punishment… he told her in private that it had taken everything in him not to behead Bran right there and then, in front of the assembled villagers. In the end, he told her, it had been Melanie's presence that had stopped him from bringing his sword down and beheading his father. He didn't want her to think he was the kind of man who could kill in cold blood.

  "I would have killed him," Melanie said softly, thinking of how she'd have reacted if someone had murdered her father in cold blood the way Bran had murdered Aelfred's mother. "You're a better person than I am, Aelfred Grant."

  They took a great deal of comfort in each other, in those early days. Aelfred was still shaken and thoroughly traumatized from everything that had happened — from the dawn attack, to being taken prisoner and held
in the town all day, not sure whether he was going to be hauled out and hung for murder, or whether Melanie was alive or dead. And Melanie, too, had suffered a great deal that day. They returned to the Keep after it all and fell into bed together, too exhausted to even speak until they'd had a good sleep. And when they'd woken, they'd had food sent to Aelfred's room, unwilling to face the rest of the Keep, only wanting to see each other.

  In the end, though, they'd had to emerge from Aelfred's room… after a few days of rest and lovemaking, of course. Then had come the trial… and the eventual decision, which was announced on a cold, somber day in the middle of the village. The council, Father Caleb and Laird Donal had agreed that the only fitting punishment for such a heinous murder — and the attempt at murdering a member of the Watch — was hanging.

  In the end, Melanie didn't attend the hanging. Aelfred did, after a long conversation about whether he wanted to be there… he said he owed it to his mother to see his father brought to justice, and when he returned from the event, his face was pale and drawn but his eyes were clear. She comforted him, the two of them lying awake long into the night. Everyone in the Keep knew about their relationship, at this point, but neither of them minded. If anything, she felt silly about how long she'd spent trying to pretend that she wasn't in love with him, and that the two of them weren't destined for each other.

  It was, a month after the hanging, that Aelfred and Melanie found themselves standing on the roof of the Keep, the wind whipping at their hair as they held each other's hands in front of a small crowd of invited guests. Old Maggie herself was the guest of honor — they'd been surprised when she'd accepted their invitation. They'd visited her a week after the events in the village, with a bundle of shortbread and two bottles of honey mead as thanks for all her assistance. Her eyes had gleamed when she'd seen the presents, though she'd waved off the obligation — Aelfred had been intrigued by that.

  "I thought a Fae woman would be more interested in favors and obligations," he said.

  "Oh, I gave up all that when I moved here," she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "You ought to do the same. With one exception," she added, her bright little eyes gleaming from the nest of wrinkles that made up her face. "There's one kind of promise, one kind of pledge I am very interested in, indeed. So?"

  Melanie and Aelfred had blinked at her, taken aback that she'd guessed at the other purpose of their visit to her. "We were wondering if you'd attend our wedding, Maggie."

  She cackled with glee, throwing her head back as she gave them her enthusiastic agreement. And sure enough, here she stood on the day of their wedding, wrapped in a bright shawl that covered up most of the usual layers of rags and assorted fabrics that she was usually clothed in — and with a broad smile on her wrinkled face as they exchanged their vows. Father Caleb had agreed to preside over the ceremony, but Laird Donal was there, too, standing beside the priest and occasionally hiding a smile at the pompous young priest's best efforts at maintaining order.

  Weddings were a little different in the medieval era than they had been where Melanie came from… not that she'd ever given much thought to the kind of wedding she wanted. In the end, she'd appointed all seven of the other time-lost women as her bridesmaids, with Anna as maid of honor. They were all wearing matching corsages made from flowers they'd picked along the shores of the Loch, and though the bridal party wasn't exactly the kind of Instagram image she'd always been exposed to, she couldn't have felt happier as she looked at her friend's smiling faces.

  But it was Aelfred who really took her breath away. The other Grant men had seen to it that he had a kilt of Grant tartan made especially for the event, and he looked absolutely stunning in it, with his white-blond hair glinting in the bright sunlight and those silver eyes shining in his face. She couldn't believe how lucky she was, as they exchanged their vows in the afternoon sunlight with the view of the countryside spreading out all around them. When she'd first suggested they wed on the roof of the Keep, Aelfred had been bemused… but when she'd brought him up here to admire the view, he'd quickly come around to the idea.

  It was just perfect, she reflected as he pulled her into his arms to seal their union with a kiss. The only thing that could possibly have improved it was her family being there… she felt a pang of sadness as she thought of her father. Brendan had volunteered to walk her down the aisle, in the end, which had been a kind gesture on his part… but she couldn't help but wish that her father was here to see her marry the man of her dreams, the love of her life. She only hoped that he knew, somehow, how happy she was… that somehow, her joy would resonate through time and space. Perhaps the Sidhe could arrange for her to come to him a dream, she thought with a smile, just to catch up — to tell him she was happy, and well taken care of, and not to worry about her. And that she missed him, she thought. And that she hoped he was doing okay without her.

  Something drew her eye, and she heard the assembled men and women murmuring as they drifted curiously to the edge of the rooftop. Far, far below lay the waters of the Loch, and she peered down over the edge with the assembled guests, curious about what they were looking at. That was where she and Aelfred had bobbed up to the surface of the water, she thought with some amusement — and as that realization struck her, her eyes widened. There, in the water, was a familiar shape… a shadow she'd seen only once, and had half convinced herself she'd dreamed.

  Maggie was chuckling. "She's such an old show-off," she said, shaking her head as she gestured down to the water.

  Because sure enough, there in the shallows of the Loch, wallowing in broad daylight, was the Loch Ness Monster herself. Nancy laughed with delight, clapping her hands and calling a greeting down to the creature, and Julia made a wry comment about how she wished she still had her camera with her.

  "A blessing," Aelfred told her later, seriously. They were sitting in the dining hall — the Laird had seen to it that a feast had been thrown in honor of their union, as well as a kind of formal welcome back and welcome to the family to both Aelfred and Melanie. There was music, and she was looking forward to dancing with her new husband a little later — once the two of them had digested the utterly delicious dinner that Maeve and the other women of the kitchens had organized for them. She felt utterly stuffed and incredibly satisfied… even if she was a little worried about the stitches on her gown's bodice coming undone.

  "What do you mean?"

  "The appearance of the Monster," he said softly, a smile dancing across his handsome face.

  He'd been gazing down at her all day as though he couldn't believe she was real, and she kept blushing at the look on his face. Just how lucky could one woman be? she wondered. How had she managed to stumble into a love like this?

  "She's a nocturnal beast — it was no coincidence that she was just wallowing in the shallows during our wedding."

  "I don't remember inviting her," Melanie pointed out archly, drawing a laugh from him, and a quick kiss to her cheek. "But I'm glad she came."

  "I'm amazed Maggie did," Aelfred said, nodding to where Maggie was sat at a table, thrilling the small children of the castle with some story or another.

  As they watched, she raised a hand and waggled her fingers dramatically, clearly illustrating some awful point or another — one of the children shrieked and covered his face with his hands, and Melanie chuckled as she saw Anna motoring over to intervene, a drawn look on her face.

  "She doesn't tend to spend much time in the Keep, she told me. Too much iron."

  "So that's what the guards were doing this morning," Melanie laughed. "I saw them taking arms full of metal down into the basement."

  "Anything for our honored guests," Aelfred said with a smile. "In a way, it's a little like having the Sidhe themselves here."

  "It's a shame so many of our family members couldn't be here," Melanie said softly, taking his hand in hers. "My father, your adopted Sidhe family…" But a shadow had passed over his face when she'd used the word 'family', and she sighed, not
wanting to have brought up the sore subject of Bran Grant. "Sorry."

  "No, it's fine," he said softly, shaking his head. "A little sorrow at a wedding is … what's the word. Appropriate, I suppose."

  "I'm glad we were able to lay your mother properly to rest," Melanie said softly.

  The burial had been a few weeks ago — Hannah's remains had been carefully removed from the garden bed, Father Caleb fussily presiding over the ceremonial transportation of them to a proper grave among the Grants, in their family graveyard. She'd been laid to rest where Bran Grant would have been, had he not disgraced himself so thoroughly — his body had been put to rest elsewhere, after he'd been hanged. The burial ceremony for Hannah had been simple and beautiful, and Melanie knew that Aelfred felt much better about everything. He'd recovered his memories of that time in full, now, and even had a few stories to tell about Hannah that had previously been gone from his memory. And he still had her necklace. He'd worried about whether he should bury it with her… but in the end, he'd remembered that she'd often pressed it into his hands as a child when she'd gone out for some reason or other, as a way of proving that she'd always be with him. He wore it now, under his shirt.

  "I hate what my father did to her," he said softly. "I hate that he bore my name."

  "I think we choose our family," Melanie said firmly. "What's a wedding, but a choice to join a family? I'm a Grant now. If you can give me that name, then you can take it from him."

  Aelfred smiled. "I love the way you think, Melanie Grant. And you're right. The Sidhe are far more my family than that man ever was. And as tragic as everything that has happened has been… how can I complain of any of it, when it brought me to you?"

  She smiled up at him, feeling tears spring to her eyes at the look on his face, nodding her agreement as she didn't quite trust herself to speak. Weddings were supposed to be happy occasions — she didn't want to burst out in tears, even if happiness was definitely one of the emotions that were motivating her weepiness. Happiness and sorrow, grief and loss, and hope… it had been a complicated few weeks, hadn't it? "I wouldn't change anything," she said softly. "If I could go back, I wouldn't change a single thing. Not if it would mean losing you. All of these trials, all of it… I'd do it a hundred times over for you, Aelfred." She thought of the deep scar on her back, the pain of the blow, the healing… it would trouble her all her life, most likely, but when she thought about it, it was a small price to pay for the love of her life.