Hold A Highlander: A Scottish Time Travel Romance (A Highlander Across Time Book 3)

by Rebecca Preston

  "Perhaps," he said, diplomatic, and she couldn't help but grin. "I suppose I understand, though. The duties and responsibilities of life… sometimes I wish I could leave it all behind, too." He tilted his head. "But won't you miss your family?"

  She sighed, a pang of grief hitting her as she thought about her mother and father on their road trip across the country to Colorado. "I hadn't thought of that."

  "It will take some time to understand completely, I think," he said softly. "But you're safe here, I hope you know that. You'll be an honored guest of the MacLeods for as long as you choose to remain in the castle. The magic that brought you here holds a very special place in our hearts."

  "Living in a castle," she said softly, thinking back to the brief exploration she'd conducted with wonder. The idea of living in Dunscaith Castle permanently — of it being her home, of being free to wander it at her leisure… "That's wonderful."

  He smiled, though his expression was shadowed. "Aye, in some ways. There is a darker side, though. This place has its own rules and hazards. You'll have to adapt."

  Carissa nodded, not wanting him to think she was taking this lightly. "I will," she promised. "I'll take this place seriously."

  "I have to admit," he said thoughtfully, "your reaction is… a little surprising. The others... well, from what my cousin said, it took them a little while to accept the truth of what had happened to them. You seem very comfortable with the news that magic is real."

  "Well, I've been wanting it to be real my whole life." She shrugged with a rueful smile. "I guess it's easy to accept something you've been dreaming about for so long."

  "Why don't you want to go back? If that's not a personal question," he added.

  She shook her head… but she couldn't help but sigh. Why didn't she want to go back home? God, where to begin?

  Chapter 6

  “I guess... well, I've been wanting a change for a long time," she said softly. "I just broke up with my boyfriend.”

  There was a definite glint of interest in his eyes — she forced herself to ignore the way her heartbeat accelerated as he looked at her sharply, then quickly turned his eyes away. "Is that so?"

  Did they even have boyfriends or girlfriends in the medieval era? It felt like such a modern term… but he seemed to know what she meant. It was a little embarrassing to talk about Jim, she realized as she struggled to explain what had happened. "Yes. He — well, we lived together, and he…" She bit her lip. Why on Earth was she talking about Jim? He was gone — he was thousands of miles and hundreds of years away. If she didn't talk about him, he wouldn't exist. There was something incredibly relieving about that thought, and she couldn't help but smile as she shook her head. "It doesn't matter what happened. He wasn't very good for me, that's all."

  "Where did you live? From what Maria has said about New York, it sounds…"

  "Big," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "Big, and kind of … anonymous. It was a bit overwhelming, honestly. I grew up upstate, but I moved to the city to try to get my career off the ground. But the grind was just…" She shook her head. "It was like running and running and running at top speed and then looking around to realize that you hadn't gotten anywhere."

  "I can't imagine," Hugh said softly, his eyes thoughtful as he looked at her over the forgotten saddle in his lap.

  She felt a blush creep into her cheeks at the intensity of his regard and she lowered her eyes to the tangled mass of bridles, only some of which she'd managed to extricate.

  "You've done very well there."

  "It's a nightmare," she said, frankly. "You need to be stricter with the people who leave their tack in this state."

  "Aye, you're right," he said, shaking his head. "I'm a little younger than the old stablemaster, though, and a lot of the older guards don't take me seriously."

  She smiled. "I know that feeling." But before she could elaborate, she felt a yawn coming on, and struggled to suppress it.

  Hugh pointed at her. "You must be exhausted."

  "I'm fine," she protested — but another yawn definitely weakened that argument.

  He shook his head, smiling. "Why don't you get some sleep? There's a pallet in here I sleep on occasionally in the afternoons — it's comfortable enough until we can get you some more reasonable accommodation in the castle."

  She wanted to protest… but the third yawn stopped her. The idea of a nap was very inviting — and what was even more inviting was the way he swept his cloak off his shoulders and offered it to her to sleep in. She wrapped it around herself, thanking him as the residual body heat warmed her. It smelled of horses and something else… something musky and masculine, and very, very pleasant, and she resisted the urge to bury her face in it and inhale.

  He left her in the tack room, promising to come and fetch her for breakfast when it was served, and she lay in the dark, her mind racing despite how tired she felt. The little pallet wasn't especially soft, but it was comfortable enough with her head pillowed on the hood of Hugh's cloak… but she just couldn't quiet her racing thoughts. It felt like her chest was full of starlight, giddy and overwhelming. Was this what it was like to be happy, to be actually filled with hope for the future? How did normal people get anything done? She'd gotten so used to the dull fog of depression that when it lifted… well, she felt like a different person.

  Wasn't that the idea? Wasn't that what she'd hoped for when she crawled through that doorway, in what she was already beginning to think of as her former life? She lived here now. She lived in a medieval castle in Scotland. She'd made friends with the stablemaster, and he was going to introduce her to the other women who'd made their way here from the future. Women who, it seemed, had married into the clan who owned the castle. Was that in her future, too? She couldn't help picturing herself standing at Hugh's side, wearing a tartan dress that matched his kilt, and she blushed as she buried her head in the cloak that smelled of him. It was a ridiculous thought, and one that she'd be keeping well and truly to herself… but she couldn't ignore the way her heart pounded at the thought of him.

  His warning, though, lingered in her mind, too. There would be different rules, different ways of life to get used to. Carissa wished she knew a little bit more about the medieval era. Would she have no rights, as a woman? Would the men feel like they owned her, that they were better than her as a result of their gender? She definitely hadn't gotten that vibe from Hugh… but still, weren't women treated dreadfully in medieval times? Then again, it wasn't as though things were so crash hot for women in the twenty-first century — she thought of the way Jim had reacted to every career success she had, the jealousy in his eyes, the controlling way he spoke to her, belittled her… the way he did barely any of the domestic work around the apartment, even though she worked more than he did… and she knew she was one of the lucky ones, in the grand scheme of things. The amount of stories she'd heard about women being murdered, assaulted, attacked, controlled by men who even in the twenty-first century still saw women as property… could things here really be that much worse than that? Had that much social change happened? Hadn't Hugh said a woman had built this castle?

  Torn between hope and worry, she slept fitfully, tossing and turning, wrapped in Hugh's warm cloak. It was a little after dawn when she heard the door creak open, and she sat up blearily, blinking in disorientation as she realized that weak gray light was filtering into the room. Hugh was there, a smile on his face as he wished her good morning.

  "Did you sleep well?"

  "Not especially," she admitted with a shrug.

  He chuckled. "Aye, I know the feeling well. Some food will help."

  It had been a long time since the hearty breakfast she'd enjoyed at the hotel that was for sure… and who knew how many calories were burned by time travel? Nodding, she got to her feet and followed Hugh out into the stable. In the light of day, she could make a proper count of the horses — there were eight in the stalls at the moment, including the tall black horse she'd been petting when Hugh
had discovered her. The horse's head was over the stall door and it snorted at her inquisitively as she passed, causing her to stop to stroke its nose.

  "He's my favorite too," Hugh said with an amused smile on his face. "Funny to see him being so friendly. He's usually standoffish with strangers."

  "I used to ride a horse just like him," she said softly, stroking the gelding's nose. "What's his name?"

  "Scath," Hugh said with a smile. "For Scathach, the founder of the castle. She had black hair too, so it's said."

  They headed across the courtyard, and though her stomach was grumbling, Carissa couldn't stop herself from taking a moment to stand before the castle and stare up at it in awe. It was at least three stories high, maybe more — it was hard to get a sense of how big it was from here, and she found herself taking a few steps backwards until Hugh reached out to stop her from crashing into a man who was crossing the courtyard. He gave her a curious look over his shoulder as he hurried away, and she blinked down at herself, realizing belatedly how strange she must look.

  "I don't have any other clothes," she said bleakly.

  "Easily remedied," Hugh said easily. "My mother's got a stash of cloth and thread big enough to clothe the whole Isle of Skye if she saw fit — I'm sure she'd be delighted to share. She's sewed just about everything for my sisters and I since we were wee babes."

  "Do you think she'd teach me?" Carissa said faintly. "I don't think I could even sew a button on."

  He looked surprised but didn't comment on her lack of ability — something she appreciated as they headed into the castle, through the great wooden doors that led into the hall she'd found herself in when she'd first emerged from the basement of the castle where the doorway had stood. But wait — could this be the same place? She hesitated, scanning it curiously for the stairs she'd come up — but there was no sign of them.

  "I thought the stairs were here," she said softly, frowning. Hugh looked at her.

  "The stairs?"

  "To the — the basement, or whatever. The rooms under the castle."

  "Oh, aye. There are a few paths down into the catacombs. None of them here, though," he added with a frown. "Are you sure this is where you emerged?"

  "No," she admitted, shrugging her shoulders. "I thought it was, but I must have gotten lost."

  "Maybe. Or maybe not."

  An unfamiliar voice from behind her — this one a woman's, warm and strong. Carissa turned to see an older woman with greying hair standing in the doorway, a broad smile on her face and light dancing in her dark eyes. She looked just like Hugh, despite the gray in her black hair, and it wasn't a surprise when he greeted her as 'mother' and embraced her warmly.

  "Carissa, this is Erin MacLeod. My mother. Carissa Knox," he introduced her. "She came through the doorway."

  "Aye, I thought that might be the case." Erin chuckled. Her brown eyes were fixed intently on Carissa, examining her closely, though there was a kindness in her expression that made Carissa feel comfortable with the scrutiny.

  "It's good to meet you," Carissa said, feeling a little awkward — was she meant to curtsy? Erin was wearing full skirts, and she felt thoroughly out of place in her black skinny jeans. "What did you mean by maybe not?"

  "The castle has a way of moving about late at night," Erin said, her eyes sparkling with an air of mystery that Carissa found very intriguing. "Especially when magic's afoot."

  "I don't know if that's true," Hugh said diplomatically.

  Carissa suppressed a laugh at the sharp look his mother shot him.

  "Oh, of course. Women from the future are being regularly dropped off in our catacombs, but a vanishing staircase, that's preposterous. Come now, Carissa," Erin said warmly, taking her arm. "I can't wait to hear all about your journey. And I'm sure the other MacLeod women will be just as thrilled to meet you as I am."

  The three of them moved through to the dining room she'd visited the night before. It looked much brighter and warmer in the light of day, and her eyes widened a little at how busy it was. Gaggles of men and women were sitting at each of the long tables, talking and laughing over their meals — they looked up curiously as Erin and Hugh led her across the hall toward a table at the other end of the hall, separate from the others and slightly elevated. There was room for a dozen people at the table at least, but only four were sitting there — two women and two men, all four of whom were staring at Carissa as though she had two heads. She couldn't help but feel a little self-conscious at the level of scrutiny and wished fiercely that she was wearing skirts like all of the other women she'd seen so far. She'd never liked standing out in a crowd.

  "May I introduce Laird Cameron MacLeod," Hugh said formally, and a tall, blonde man with icy blue eyes rose to his feet, giving her a little nod as he did so. She bowed, feeling absurd, and wished again that she had some skirts to curtsy with.

  "Cameron, this is Carissa Knox. She came through the doorway," Erin said meaningfully.

  "Aye, I had a suspicion that might be the case." Laird Cameron's voice was warm and reassuring. He was older than his cousin, maybe in his early thirties, and the easy, authoritative way he held himself made it clear he was comfortable in his position of leadership. "Carissa, it's a pleasure to meet you. Welcome to Castle Dunscaith."

  Chapter 7

  There was a flurry of excitement as Carissa was seated at the table. The dark-haired, sharp-faced woman sitting beside Cameron hadn't taken her eyes off her since she arrived, and Carissa found herself being introduced to Maria MacLeod, the Laird's new wife — and her American accent surprised Carissa, even though she'd been advised that this woman was also from New York. Maria smiled at her, those sharp eyes taking her in.

  "You doing okay?"

  "Yeah," she said, appreciating the question. "It's pretty crazy, but… honestly, I'm happy to be here."

  "I thought I was going mad," Maria said, shrugging. "Still do, some days. But it sounds like you're adjusting a lot quicker than I did."

  The Laird and his cousins had turned away, conversing with one another — Carissa got the sense that they were leaving her to get settled in with the women before they asked her about herself, something she appreciated a great deal.

  "How long have you been here?" Carissa wanted to know, leaning forward a little.

  Hugh had placed a bowl of what looked like oatmeal in front of her, but food was the furthest thing from her mind right now — she was desperate to know more about this place, about what it was like to be a modern woman here. The woman sitting to Maria's right was watching her curiously, too. Where Maria's hair was dark, hers was vivid red, braided back tightly behind her ears, and her blue eyes shone in her face. She seemed younger than Carissa, and when she spoke she realized this must be the other woman from modern America — Edith MacLeod.

  The wife of the tanist, Cameron's second-in-command and another cousin of Hugh's. He was a thoughtful, dark-eyed man who nodded to her when he was introduced, his demeanor almost suspicious in its wariness. But the way he looked at Edith made it very clear how much he adored his wife.

  "I've been here about eighteen months, and Edith… a year?"

  "A little less," the woman said softly, nodding. "It's a wonderful place, Carissa, truly. I know you must be frightened, but you have a home here with us as long as you want."

  "There's no way back, right?" she asked, glancing between them.

  The looks of mingled regret and sympathy on their faces told her all she needed to know… and she felt a little guilty at the relief that ran through her. For all that she'd miss her family fiercely, part of her was glad to have an excuse never to return. She could make a new life here. A better life. One that she could speak of with pride, instead of the shame she felt whenever she thought about the terrible treatment she'd tolerated from Jim.

  "Where are you from?" Maria wanted to know, leaning forward.

  "New York. State, not city," she said hastily when the woman's eyes lit up. "Though I've been living in NYC the last few years.
"

  "I miss it sometimes," Maria said softly, shaking her head. "I was a homicide detective with the NYPD."

  "Holy crap," Carissa said blankly. "That's intense."

  "Yeah." She chuckled. "Big change, moving here."

  "How did it happen?" Carissa leaned forward. "The doorway, right?"

  "Yeah. I was in Skye on a trip celebrating my promotion. I'd always wanted to visit Scotland, you know, and with the new paycheck… well, I came to visit the Dunscaith ruin and the next thing I knew, here I was. Thought I was crazy," she said, shaking her head. "I was the first one. Thankfully, these people are no strangers to magic."

  "Speaking of," Edith said softly. "If you're living here, there are things you'll need to know. Certain dangers we'll need to tell you about. Things you should and shouldn't talk about… oh, and you'll need new clothes," she added, gesturing at her outfit.

  Carissa nodded in relieved agreement. "Yeah, I feel pretty out of place here," she said with a rueful smile. Both women were wearing beautiful dresses with full skirts — Maria's was dark blue, and Edith's was a soft brown.

  "You're about my size," Edith said thoughtfully, scrutinizing her, "though you're a little curvier than I am. That's a compliment," she added hastily, and Carissa couldn't help but laugh. "Anyway, you're more than welcome to borrow some of my clothes until we get some made just for you."

  "I can't sew," she said, biting her lip. "Is that going to be a problem?"

  "It's easy enough to learn. And it's nice to have a practical hobby," Maria added. "The rooms don't exactly have cable, you know?"

  "The lack of technology is probably the hardest thing to get used to," Edith said softly. "Running water, electricity…"