by Baker, Katy
“Behind you!” Lia cried.
But she needn’t have worried. The newcomer pushed the skinny man away from him, ducked below the swinging punch of the first burly villager and smashed his fist into the man’s stomach. He gave out an ‘oomph’ and fell to his knees. The second man approached more warily but his eyes still blazed with bloodlust and fury.
“Ye will pay for that,” he growled. “Nobody hits my brother and gets away with it!”
The red-haired man made no reply. He just waited. With a howl of anger, the big villager charged. At the last possible moment, the red-head stepped aside, drew a sword in the same motion and pressed the edge of the blade against the big villager’s throat. The man froze as if he’d been turned to stone, eyes fixed on the gleaming blade resting against his jugular.
Into the sudden, heavy silence the red-haired man spoke. “This is what’s going happen. Ye are going to release the lass and allow us to ride away. Dinna get any daft ideas in yer head about trying to stop me or it will go poorly for the lot of ye. Understood?”
The skinny villager licked his lips. He seemed uncertain now he didn’t have his two heavies to back him up. “On whose authority do ye come here telling us what to do?"
"I dinna need anyone’s authority to stop injustice when I see it," the red-head growled. “Release the lass and give her back her property. Now.”
With a scowl, the skinny man stepped forward, produced a key and unlocked Lia’s manacles. He dropped her cell phone in the dirt. Lia fell to her knees, her legs suddenly too weak to hold her up. She grabbed her phone and began massaging her wrists, trying to get some life back into them.
A hand suddenly came to rest on her shoulder. Lia glanced up in alarm to find herself looking up into the face of the red-haired man.
“Come, lass,” he said softly. “Let’s get ye out of here.” He took her arm and lifted her to her feet.
A little dazed, Lia allowed him to lead her to the horse and lift her into the saddle. The villagers watched them go, muttering angrily. Lia half expected another attack but their fear of the red-haired man seemed greater than their desire for blood. They glared but didn’t move as the red-haired man swung up into the saddle behind her.
"Yah!" he set his heels to the horse's flanks and the beast sprang into a gallop, thundering away from the village.
Lia clung onto the saddle and did not look back.
Chapter 4
The rain finally began to ease, slackening to an irritating drizzle. Only when the village had disappeared into the folds of land behind them did her rescuer pull the horse to a halt beneath the spreading boughs of an oak tree. He dismounted and stood staring back down the trail as if checking they weren't being followed.
Seemingly satisfied, he looked up at Lia. His eyes were a startling color, more amber than brown, and they watched her steadily.
"Did they hurt ye?"
Lia fingered the spot on her temple where the pebble had struck her. It wasn’t painful but her coat stank of rotten veg. She shook her head. "No. I’m fine. Thanks for getting me out of there."
“I could hardly let them stone ye as a witch.”
Lia clasped her hands to stop them from trembling. “Have they all gone crazy? Why would they think I’m a witch?”
"Because they cling to superstition to explain things they dinna understand. Ye didnae help yerself either. Ye shouldnae use words like ‘police’ or flash that futuristic device of yers around."
"Why shouldn't I?"
"Because it’s dangerous. A wrong word in the wrong ear, the wrong person seeing that gadget ye carry, could get us both killed."
He stared at her, his amber eyes hard and penetrating. He looked deadly serious. Lia frowned in puzzlement. What was he talking about? Why would using her cell phone be dangerous? What on Earth was going on here?
"I don't understand any of this," she said, rubbing her temple. "Look, I just want to go home, have a shower and get changed.”
The man nodded. “Where did ye come through?”
"Come through? What do you mean?"
He shook his head. "If ye can guide me, I'll take ye back there. Then we can both be on our way."
Giddy relief washed through her so strongly that she had to cling to the saddle horn. “Thanks." She stuck out her hand. "I'm Emelia. Emelia Shaw although most people call me Lia."
"Ross MacAuley."
Ignoring her offered hand, he climbed into the saddle behind her, pulled the horse around, and urged it into a canter.
Lia closed her eyes. It was over. Oh God, it was over. She’d soon be back to where everything made sense and she could forget this whole sorry incident. She sighed slowly. It couldn’t come soon enough.
ROSS REALIZED HE WAS scowling and forced himself to relax. His hands were gripping the reins harder than was strictly necessary, making Traveler edgy and nervous. He softened his grip. The wind, which had howled a gale on his way down here, was subsiding to a chill breeze that plucked at his hair and sodden clothes.
In front of him the lass sat straight-backed and tense, clinging to the saddle horn in a way that showed she was unused to riding. Where had she come from? And why had she wandered into that village brandishing a—what had his mother called those things? Cell phones? Didn't she have any sense at all?
She doesnae know where she is, he realized. She doesnae know what's happened to her.
But Ross had recognized what she was the second he'd laid eyes on her. The strange clothes and odd accent had told him all he needed to know. The cell phone had only confirmed it. How could he grow up with a mother and two aunts who were time-travelers and not know one when he saw one?
Curse ye, Irene, he thought. What game are ye playing with me?
It could not be coincidence that he'd met Irene MacAskill right before this strange lass appeared. There were no coincidences where the Fae were concerned.
Anger began to stir in his gut. He would have no part of this. He would not be used by the Fae as his father and uncles had been.
Ye hear me? he thought. I will have no part in this!
He would take the lass back to the place where she’d come through time and she would go home thinking she'd dreamt the whole episode. The sooner he was rid of her the better.
THE RIDE PASSED IN a blur. Lia hunkered down, shivering from more than just the cold and wet. The adrenaline that had pumped through her system was draining away, leaving her cold and shaky.
She spoke only to guide her rescuer towards the hill above the village where the building site lay. For his part, Ross MacAuley said not a word and she felt his glowering presence at her back like a thundercloud. She dared not look at him so she stared straight ahead, clinging onto the saddle so hard her fingers ached.
How could she even begin to explain what had happened today? Her brain was still struggling to process it all. The craziness had started with Irene MacAskill. Somehow this whole episode was linked to her. Why had she done what the woman asked? Why had she walked through that archway instead of returning to the mess tent and a well-earned mug of coffee like any normal person?
She rubbed at her temples. Jeez, she needed a stiff drink or five. Nobody back at the site would believe any of this.
Peering ahead, she realized the trail they were riding was the one she’d taken down the valley earlier that day. Ross had led them a circuitous route to avoid the village but now she recognized the shape of the hill ahead.
"Up there," she said, pointing. "I think the building site should be that way."
Ross turned the horse in that direction. The ground was so wet that the horse's hooves made squelching noises as they rode. Lia flicked the hair out of her eyes, peering eagerly ahead, trying to spot the building site in the distance. Any minute now the rows of porta-cabins and the mess tent would come into view. Any minute.
But the further they rode, the more uneasy she began to feel. The site should be visible by now but all she saw was an empty hillside. Had she mistaken the route
? Had she somehow gotten turned around?
But no. She remembered the shape of the hill, the loch sparkling in the distance. This was the right place. So where was the abbey? Where were the porta-cabins? Where was the whir and clink of machinery?
Ross pulled the horse to a halt. "Is this it? Where ye came through?"
Lia didn’t understand what he meant by that. "I...I...don't know," she stammered. "I don't understand. Where is everyone?"
Ross swung his leg over the horse’s back and dismounted before reaching up to help Lia down. As soon as her feet hit the ground she hurried off, searching the boggy ground for anything she recognized.
"Hello!" she yelled, cupping her hands to her mouth. "Brian? Anyone? Where are you?"
"What are ye looking for?" Ross asked.
She glanced at him and then back to the empty hillside. She had to swallow a few times before she could speak. "There's an abbey here. A site of national importance. It's been awarded a lottery grant to be restored and the firm I work for won the contract. I flew out here from the US to head up one of the teams. There are at least twenty people working on this site! Where are they all?"
Ross crossed his arms and looked down at her. "So how did ye end up here?"
"I told you, I flew over from the US—"
"That isnae what I mean. How did ye end up wandering up here alone? How did ye get lost?"
Lia ran a shaky hand through her hair. "I was surveying the ruins when a woman turned up. She said some strange things. Then I stepped through an archway and everything changed. I no longer knew where I was. I know that sounds crazy, right?"
Ross’s expression turned stony and he clenched his jaw. "This woman, she wasnae called Irene MacAskill by any chance?"
"Yes! Do you know her?"
"Oh aye," he growled. "I know her. Where is this arch, lass? Tell me quickly!"
A little taken aback by his intensity, Lia turned around and scanned the site. She recognized nothing. "I don't know, I can't tell. No, wait! There it is!”
Stark against the sky line, Lia spotted a structure rising from the grass: two walls tapering at the top to form the remains of the gable-end of a building.
Ross grabbed her wrist. "Come quickly. We must hurry."
His grip was firm and Lia had to trot to keep up with him. They reached the arch. It looked the same as it had this morning even though everything else around it had changed. Lia craned her head back to look up at it. With a start, she realized that the arch was damaged, the keystone at the apex was missing. In fact, more than one stone had gone, probably ripped out by the force of the wind and rain. The whole thing looked like it might come down any minute.
Ross swore softly. "Quickly. Go back through before it's damaged any further."
She looked at him. "Go back through? You mean walk underneath? Why? It looks like it might fall on my head."
"This is yer portal,” he growled. “Ye canna return any other way. Walk through it."
Portal? What did that mean?
But his expression stopped her questions. Lia sucked in a breath and strode through the archway. She emerged on the other side and turned to see Ross watching her, his face gone as pale as milk. A vein throbbed in his temple.
"Irene!" he growled. "Send her back, curse ye! I willnae have aught to do with this, do ye hear?" He spun around and shouted at the empty hillside. "Do ye hear?"
Lia stepped back a pace. What was he doing? Ross MacAuley might have rescued her, but he was a little frightening.
"Listen," she said, holding her hands up in front of her placatingly. "I’m grateful for your help with those villagers but you don't need to stick around. I'll find my own way back from here."
"Nay, lass, ye willnae,” he said, turning to face her. “Look up there. The arch is broken, the keystone gone. Ye canna return this way."
Lia's patience snapped. "What are you talking about? It's just a load of old stones. It can't take me anywhere. Start making sense!"
Ross ground his teeth. He looked as though he wanted to be anywhere but here. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. Then he let out a long breath.
"Where exactly do ye think ye are, lass?"
"What kind of a question is that? I'm in the Highlands, of course."
"All right. Let me ask ye a better question. When do ye think ye are?"
Lia shook her head. "Okay. I'm done. Thanks for your help. Goodbye."
She began striding away but Ross grabbed her arm. "What century do ye think this is, lass?"
His grip was hard enough to hurt. She tried to back away, but he held her fast. "The twenty-first century of course!"
He shook his head. "Nay, lass. It's the year of our Lord 1569. That arch ye stepped through isnae an archway at all. It's a portal through time and Irene MacAskill isnae the kindly old woman she appears to be. She is a Fae who loves naught more than to meddle in the lives of mortals."
Lia laughed shrilly. This man was as crazy as the villagers. "Yeah, of course, why didn't I think of that? Nice one. Very funny."
But Ross wasn't laughing. The look on his face was intense, deadly serious.
Slowly, all the strange events of the day began to play out in her head. Stepping through the archway and everything changing. The rustic village and the villagers who'd never seen a cell phone and thought her a witch for owning one. Ross himself, dressed in plaid, carrying a sword, riding a horse.
And lastly, the empty hilltop where only this morning there had been a building site.
Her knees gave way, and she thumped onto the soggy ground.
There was only one explanation. She’d traveled back in time.
ROSS WATCHED THE LASS. She was hugging her knees and muttering to herself. He didn’t blame her. He'd just told her that she was hundreds of years out of her time and that her only chance of returning was broken. Lord, if he'd been told such a tale he might very well react in such a way.
This was all Irene MacAskill's fault! What, by all that's holy, was the Fae up to? He cursed his ill luck, bitterness twisting his stomach. For years he'd searched for the Fae. He'd chased every rumor, every sighting, hoping to meet one of them and offer them the bargain he needed to redeem his soul. Nothing. Every lead a dead end, every sighting naught more than a child's fancy. And finally, finally! he'd met one of the elusive creatures but instead of securing the bargain he so needed he was thrust right into the middle of one of their plots.
Curse Irene! And curse all the Fae!
The lass let out a sob, pressing her head against her knees. Ross scrubbed a hand through his hair, anger and frustration welling up inside him. Damn it all, he needed to be gone from here, he needed to be resuming his quest, not be saddled with some useless lass from the future. He would have been better off to leave her to her fate in that village!
Shame washed through him at the thought. He could no more have done that than cut off his own arm. That much honor at least, he had left.
But her archway was broken and Irene MacAskill was nowhere in sight. There was only one choice: escort the lass to his mother at Dun Ringill. As a time-traveler herself, maybe she'd know what to do. The thought made his stomach tie itself in knots. Dun Ringill. His ancestral home. A place he hadn't seen since he walked out the gates and turned his back on his old life.
A place he’d vowed never to see again.
He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. He felt fate tightening around his neck like a noose. No matter which way he turned, it would tighten until it choked him.
Taking a deep breath, he looked down at—what had she said her name was? Lia? "Ye will come with me," he said abruptly. The words came out more harshly than he intended, snapping like a command.
She looked up at him. Her face had the slack expression of someone dealing with shock. "Come with you?”
“I can take ye to someone who might be able to help ye.”
Wariness flashed across her features.
"Ye can trust me,” he growled, annoyed. "I willnae har
m ye nor let harm come to ye. I swear on my name as a MacAuley."
She said nothing. He could almost see her thoughts churning behind her eyes, weighing up her options. Seeming to realize these were few indeed, she finally nodded.
He held out his hand to help her to her feet. “Let’s get moving. It will be dark soon.”
He fetched Traveler, helped the lass to climb into the saddle, and then swung up behind her. Clucking to Traveler, he sent the beast into a fast walk down the hill. Light was starting to leach from the sky and with the storm front still obscuring the sun to the west, it would likely be dark early.
At the bottom of the hill, he turned Traveler off the track and cut across country, winding through thick stands of trees and clattering through streams.
The lass stirred and spoke for the first time since they'd started their ride. "Where are we going?"
"To a place that has saved my hide more times than I can remember. We'll be there soon."
She lapsed back into silence, too weary or frightened to ask further questions.
As night was thickening around them, Ross spotted their destination. Half a mile distant a sheer rock face rose from the forest floor. Several man-size holes had been carved into the rock, looking like dark eyes against the pale stone. Ross guided Traveler to the base of the cliff. Sliding from the saddle, he went still, listening, but heard nothing save the moan of the wind in the trees.
Satisfied they were alone, he strode to the cliff face and walked through the largest of the openings. He found himself in a small chamber hewn into the rock. A crude hearth sat against one wall with a pile of dry logs left by the previous occupant. In one corner lay a rickety pallet.
He went outside. Lia had dismounted and now she stood a few paces away, staring out into the forest. He cleared his throat and she spun around, eyes wide with fright.
"Come inside. I'll get a fire going and we'll soon be warm and dry."