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

by Rebecca Preston

  She just hoped that she was right about Hugh — that her instincts were steering her right. If he actually did love Niamh, there would be nothing she could do about it. But she just couldn't believe that. If she believed that, it would mean sinking so far into despair that she'd never see her way out. And she wasn't beaten. Not yet.

  The next day dawned bright and cold, and for the first time in a long time, Carissa was up with the sun. She dressed quickly and headed down for breakfast with her head held high, ignoring the whispers of servants who were surprised to see her out of her room. News of the engagement had spread, it seemed, and Carissa was definitely the subject of more than a few hurried conversations that stopped abruptly when she appeared.

  She sat with Maria at breakfast, who was cautiously optimistic about seeing her out of bed — the two of them chatted happily enough about inconsequential things, and she could tell her friend was studiously avoiding the subject of Hugh. And when he walked into the dining hall with his head low, Maria cleared her throat — but Carissa shook her head reassuringly.

  "It's okay," she said, softly and meaningfully. "We're going to figure it out."

  Maria squeezed her hand… but she could tell by the look in her eyes that she doubted it. Well, let her doubt. Carissa knew there was something afoot — and she was going to get to the bottom of it if it killed her. That was the thing about despair. When you already felt as miserable as it was possible to feel, there wasn't a lot that anyone could threaten you with. You were powerful because you were free of fear. She spent the morning walking briskly around the castle, enjoying the feeling of getting blood back into her much neglected muscles, and by the time Edith came to find her at lunch, she was feeling a lot more like herself.

  "You were right," Edith said in a low voice. They were outside in the courtyard, and the woman's eyes kept flicking to the nearby guards and servants — Carissa tugged her away to a quiet corner so they could speak more freely. "About Erin, I mean."

  "Did you talk to her? What did she say? Is it Niamh? Is she up to something?"

  "She didn't say anything in particular," Edith said, cutting her off. "But she wants to speak to you."

  Carissa's eyes widened. "She does?"

  "Tonight. At midnight." The relief that hit her was like a physical force, and she almost staggered. Edith bit her lip. "Don't get your hopes up, Carissa, please. What if she just wants to warn you to stay away?"

  Carissa shook her head, jubilation in her heart. "No. If that was all she wanted to tell me, she'd have just passed the message on through you. No — she knows something's up. She knows Hugh wouldn't want to marry this girl of his own free will. Thank you, Edith!" She pulled the girl into a tight hug, careful not to put too much pressure on her belly, and her friend laughed, hugging her back.

  "I hope you know what you're doing," she said softly, shaking her head. "I don't want you to get your hopes up and have them dashed, that's all."

  "You're a good friend, Edith," Carissa said softly, squeezing her hands. "I'll be fine."

  And as Edith hurried away, she bit her lip, hoping very much that she'd been telling the truth.

  Chapter 23

  The rest of the day was possibly the slowest period of time she'd ever lived through. Knowing that she was meeting Erin made her furiously impatient. She ate lunch, then spent the afternoon deep-cleaning her room — she stripped the bed she'd been spending so much time in and changed the sheets, a little revolted by how musty the bed had been beginning to smell. That was the thing about depression — it numbed you to unpleasantness. She scrubbed the stone floors, too, enjoying the feeling of getting her muscles into the work… but then night fell, and there was still so much time to wait. She chewed on her nails, wishing she still had the tome of herbcraft to study… she went over her own notes, reread her journal from day one until now, even made a new entry to make up for how empty the last two weeks had been.

  God, she hoped that Erin had good news for her. Edith had been right… if this was false hope, it was going to crush her. But what else could she do but hope? She went down to dinner and ate with Maria and Edith, gnawing at her lip with worry as she tried to distract herself by listening to her friends chatting about the new baby. But it was no use — her mind wouldn't stray from the looming meeting with Erin tonight. She just hoped against hope that it would be good news.

  It was dark and cold when she finally set out for the stables, hoping against hope that the majority of the staff would have gone to bed, and she'd be able to slip in and liberate a horse without too much trouble. She was in luck — there was a groom present, but he was fast asleep in one of the stalls, and she'd had plenty of experience moving quietly through these stables when she was sneaking in to visit with Hugh, so it was easy enough to move past him.

  Scath was in his usual stall, and his ears pricked up when he saw her. She bit her lip, terrified he might make some audible greeting as she slipped an apple out of her pocket for him — but somehow, he seemed to sense the need for silence, and didn't make a peep as he accepted the gift. She stroked his nose gratefully. Maybe there was something in the theory that he was a little bit magical, this horse… after all, he had a rather powerful namesake. She only hoped that he would grant her a little of his luck tonight.

  She slipped a bridle over his head but decided against a saddle — she didn't want to risk waking the groom while cinching the girth, and besides, she knew how to ride without a saddle. Scath didn't seem to mind the lack of a saddle — he huffed when she leapt up onto his back, and before long they were away. The guards on the gate raised their eyebrows at her late departure, but they didn't try to stop her, and before long they were heading down the dark road. She wished she'd thought to bring a lantern or a torch — it was hard to see where she was going, and she relied on muscle memory and Scath's own innate sense of direction to get her where she was going.

  Carissa breathed a sigh of relief when the old cottage loomed into view, looking strange and different so late at night — she'd never seen it in this kind of light. She slipped off the back of the horse and tethered him to the tree, shivering a little in the cold, damp evening air. The cottage looked deserted, no light shining in any of the windows, and she scanned the garden, worried that Erin had decided not to meet her, that she'd have to ride all the way home with nothing to show for it… but then she saw a shadow moving, and realized that Erin was standing by the house, cloaked from head to foot in a huge black cloak.

  "Erin. Thanks for meeting me –"

  "Shh," the woman hissed, pulling her away from the house. "You'll wake everyone." They walked some distance from the house down the road, and then Erin turned to her, her eyes full of muted fury. "Don't think this means I've forgiven you for what you've done."

  She took a deep breath, suppressing the urge to respond hotly. They were still walking, and she hurried to keep up — Erin was taking long, angry strides. "Where are we going?"

  "I'll ask the questions," she snapped. "How well do you know Niamh?"

  "Not well at all. Erin –"

  "Did you tell her directly, or did you simply spread the word to the villagers?"

  "Tell her what?"

  "Oh, don't play coy," Erin snapped, her eyes flashing. "Or am I to believe it was simple coincidence that a scant week after we told you of our secret, Niamh came to Hugh threatening to tell the witch hunters on his family if he didn't marry her?"

  Carissa stared at Erin in the darkness, shocked into stillness by this news. "Niamh knows that you're a witch?"

  For the first time, a flicker of uncertainty crossed Erin's face, and she paused, narrowing her eyes as she scrutinized Carissa closely. "You mean you don't know?"

  "No," she said blankly. "I — Erin, do you think I told her?"

  "How else –"

  "And Hugh thinks so too?" Her mind was racing — she rubbed her head with her hands, suddenly beginning to piece together everything that had happened in the last month. "Oh my God. This explains everyth
ing. Erin, I didn't tell her, I swear to you on whatever you'd have me swear on. My life. Hugh's life. I didn't tell a soul."

  "Then how –"

  "She's an eavesdropper and a sneak," Carissa said quickly, her mind racing back to the conversation. "She spent time in my room… we used to sew together… my journal!" She clapped her hands over her mouth as she almost shouted the words — Erin shushed her, but her eyes were wide. "I came back to my room to find my journal lying out — she was always curious about it — she must have figured out where I hide it and read it. Oh my God, Erin, I'm so sorry." She buried her face in her hands, horrified to realize the consequences of what had happened. "I didn't tell her, but it's still my fault that she knows."

  "We thought…" Erin took a deep breath. "Carissa, I think I owe you an apology. We assumed you'd told her — or told someone who'd told her. I should have known she's the kind of girl who'd steal a diary."

  "I'm still the idiot who wrote it down," Carissa said miserably, shaking her head. "And now she knows… and she must be manipulating Hugh!"

  "Aye, I think so," Erin said, shaking her head sadly. "He'd do anything to protect me and the children — including entering into a loveless marriage. But it's not what he wants. He adores you, Carissa. He was beside himself when he thought… he's been a wreck for two weeks."

  She winced, her heart aching at the thought of Hugh being so upset without her to console him. "What can I do?" she said miserably, spreading her hands. "She knows… she can blackmail him with this for the rest of her life. It's not like I can just… take back what she read."

  "Well, that shows how much you know," Erin said briskly. "Stop that, now." She reached out unexpectedly and wiped a tear from Carissa's cheek.

  Surprised by the gesture, she blinked at Erin — then nearly broke down crying again when the woman pulled her into a quick hug.

  "You didn't do anything wrong," she told her firmly. "And for my part, I'm sorry I didn't speak to you before I jumped to conclusion. Leah gets some of her temper from me, I'm afraid."

  "It's okay," Carissa said numbly. It felt so good to be back in Erin's good graces that she hardly dared to believe it was real. What if all this was a dream — what if she was about to wake up in her bed again? But they were still in such a dire situation — with Niamh holding this secret over their head, how could they go back to their normal lives? Then, to her surprise, Erin was leading her off the road and through the trees. "Erin? Where are we —"

  "Shh," Erin hissed. She followed her obediently in silence, confused and a little frightened by the dark, winding path they were following… then her eyes widened as they came out into a moonlit clearing. "I wasn't going to bring you here until later in your training," Erin said, shaking her head, "but the times are desperate. Help me."

  The clearing was absolutely full of neatly tended rows of herbs — but these were strange plants that she didn't recognize from any of the pages of the book she'd borrowed. Erin gave her terse directions and she hurried to obey, gathering leaves and berries she didn't recognize and laying them carefully into a little basket Erin gave her.

  "What are these?"

  "Every witch has two gardens," Erin said with amusement. "A regular garden for the herbs she wants people to see her growing… and a secret garden for the ones that anyone worth their salt would recognize as magical."

  "Wow," Carissa whispered, gazing at the plants. "None of these were in the book."

  "I only lent you volume one," Erin said with amusement. "Now, come with me."

  They hurried back to the cottage, Erin speaking in a low voice the whole way along, filling Carissa in on what had happened over the last two weeks. Just as she'd suspected, Niamh had been behind it all — she'd been waiting for Hugh in the stables when he'd slipped away from Carissa's room that morning, and promptly informed him that they'd be getting married in three months — or she'd reveal to the whole village —and the witch hunters who were staying there — that Erin was a witch of considerable power. Hugh had fled home to warn Erin — who had shut and barred the doors when Carissa had come for her lesson later that afternoon.

  "Now, Carissa. Remember what I said about magic? About how the power is something you only use when nothing mundane will suffice?"

  "Yes, of course," Carissa said cautiously. They were in Erin's kitchen, and the woman was stoking the fire under an iron pot, the water in it already beginning to come to the boil.

  "Keep that in mind as we work. I tried to speak to Niamh," she said, shaking her head as she began to drop the herbs into the simmering water. Was it a trick of the light, or were her fingertips sparkling as she passed them through the steam? "I tried to reason with her, tried everything I could to get her to see the light. I exhausted every mundane possibility for a resolution. Do you understand?"

  "Of course," Carissa said, handing her a handful of leaves as she gestured for them. "But –"

  "But she left me with no recourse. And so, we come to this." She dropped the handful of leaves into the water and muttered something under her breath in a language that Carissa didn't recognize. "We come to witchcraft."

  Carissa felt a thrill run down her spine as she looked into the pot. It had seemed so simple, so straightforward… but she realized, as she inhaled the strange, spicy scent of the liquid, that it was anything but.

  This was a magic potion. And as Erin took her by the hand and began to speak, her eyes widened as she realized what her plan was. It was serious — and very dangerous.

  But if it meant saving Hugh from an awful fate, meant keeping Erin and her family safe… what choice did she have but to go along with it?

  Chapter 24

  Her heart pounded all the way back to the castle. By the time she'd finished up with Erin, it was almost dawn, and she could see the gray sky lightening as she rode. By the time she'd reached Dunscaith proper, the sun had cleared the horizon, and she couldn't help but linger for a moment to admire the sight of it. For all that she had a lot on her mind at the moment, the sunrise was beautiful, and she made a note to try to see it a little more often.

  She reached for the pocket inside her cloak and felt the little vial there, safe and certain, still slightly warm. Erin had finished the potion and boiled it for a long time, stirring it occasionally, Carissa watching closely as the water slowly boiled off and left a thicker and thicker substance behind. In the end, there had been barely any of the substance — but what was there was thick and fragrant. There was something about the way it moved, too — something that made it seem almost alive. She couldn't help but feel a shiver run down her spine as she looked at it — and when Erin had handed her the little vial, she had the feeling she was being entrusted with a powerful weapon.

  In a way, she was.

  She headed into the castle after putting Scath away, giving the horse a good rubdown for his trouble — a midnight ride wasn't exactly his favorite way of spending an evening, she suspected, and she made a mental note to bring him a whole basket of apples to snack on sometime soon. He was a good horse that was for sure… and his emotional support, as well as his more mundane services, had been invaluable to her.

  And as apprehensive as she felt about the plan she and Erin had come up with, at least she was doing something. For the first time in a long time, she had hope. She had a plan of action, something to actually do to try to reclaim what she'd lost. If it worked, she and Hugh could be together. And if it didn't… well, at least she'd know she'd tried. She'd be devastated anyway, of course, and she may never recover… but she had to try.

  She strode inside as the sky was lightening, heading for the dining hall. But this time, she didn't stop at the table. She carried on right through, into the busy, crowded kitchens, ignoring the looks of surprise from the servants who looked up to see her, still clad in a cloak and her riding clothes, a determined look on her face as she scanned the crowds of servants running back and forth getting breakfast prepared for the castle.

  "Where's Niamh?" she asked one o
f them, not bothering to keep her voice down. Sure enough, it wasn't long before a familiar, pretty face appeared out of the crowd. It was Niamh, a little apprehensive — but that smug smile on her face hadn't changed.

  "Oh, hello, Carissa. Is there something I can help you with?" she asked sweetly. It would have annoyed Carissa if she didn't have so much on her mind.

  "You and me," she said firmly, not hiding her anger. "We need to talk. The stables, after breakfast. It'll be deserted."

  "Are you sure you're allowed there?" Niamh asked, her eyes glittering wickedly. "From what I've heard, the stablemaster wants nothing to do with you…"

  "The stablemaster won't be there. But you will," she said levelly. "We need to settle this once and for all."

  Just for a moment, a flicker of unease came over Niamh's face, and she glanced around her. Carissa hid a grin. Someone who traded in gossip and blackmail couldn't be seen to be implicated in any of it — even by causing this scene, Carissa was threatening her reputation. So, she just nodded, briskly, then returned to her chores. Satisfied, Carissa headed back into the dining hall — but she couldn't even think of eating breakfast, not with her heart pounding so hard. So, she headed for the stables, determined to be ready and waiting for Niamh when she got there.

  The girl took her time, of course. Breakfast was well and truly over by the time she made her appearance, walking insolently, slowly across the courtyard. But Carissa didn't care. She was on her way that was the important thing — and there were no grooms in the stables to overhear their conversation. That was good. That meant Niamh would be able to speak freely. And that was what Carissa was counting on.

  "Hello again, Carissa."