The man her father had chosen for her, Laird Artair Dalaigh, was handsome and polite, yet she felt nothing for him. Though he treated her with kindness, she sensed a similar disinterest from him. Like most of her suitors, she knew he was wedding her for her father’s lands, though given the rumors she'd heard about him, she wondered why he was bothering to marry at all. Artair had his own manor and patch of land in the north where they would live after they wed. He was only loosely affiliated to the clan he’d been born into, and would officially join Clan MacGreghor after they wed. He was coming to the castle at her father’s invitation for the few weeks leading up to their wedding to spend more time with her and the nobles of the clan. After the wedding, they'd return to his manor.
I'll go from one castle tae another, Caitria thought, a heaviness seeping into her bones. Not to the faraway lands she'd always dreamed of visiting, not to the freedom she secretly craved.
"Caitria?" Liusaidh asked, noticing the sudden darkness of her expression. She frowned with concern. "Are ye all right?"
Caitria hesitated. She'd only once expressed her desire to travel to her mother and was swiftly chastised.
"Ye are the lone child and heir of Drostan MacGreghor," Liusaidh had breathed, her face hot with anger. "Yer duty is tae yer family, yer clan, and these lands. Ye’re our only surviving heir. Ye’ll marry and sire sons tae continue the MacGreghor name. I'll hear no more of this desire tae travel—and doonae think tae express such wishes tae yer father—ye’ll give him a fright. Travel is dangerous for lasses of high birth."
Caitria’s mouth tightened at the memory. It was one of the few times her mother had raised her voice in anger to her.
Caitria knew how much Liusaidh loved her, how much both her parents loved her. She’d lost her older brother Tadhg the previous year during a hunting accident. Her parents had been overprotective of her before, but ever since his death, their protectiveness had become stifling. But to disobey their wishes and seek the freedom she craved would mean turning her back on them—and break their already fragile hearts. Instead, Caitria had buried her true desires deep and feigned excitement and gratitude when her father informed her she would wed Laird Dalaigh.
"I'm fine," she lied, forcing yet another smile. “I’m just nervous about the betrothal feast."
"All will be well," Liusaidh said, reaching down to squeeze Caitria’s hand. “Ye’ll look lovely in yer gown, and all the guests will be happy tae celebrate yer union with Artair.”
"My lady, the cook has a question for ye in the kitchens," Ailsa said, poking her head into the chamber with an apologetic look.
“I'll be right there," Liusaidh said, turning back to face Caitria. "I should have ye come with me—ye’ll need tae learn how tae manage a castle's servants . . . but I’ll allow ye tae rest. Ye have an important night tomorrow.”
Relief filled Caitria; the last thing she wanted to do was spend her afternoon at her mother's side as she trained her to become just like her, the wife of a laird whose duties consisted of birthing sons and ordering servants around.
As soon as her mother left, Caitria changed out of the confining gown and into a more comfortable gown she wore for riding. She needed to get out of this stifling chamber. She threw a cloak around her head to cover herself and slipped out of the chamber, keeping her head ducked low as she made her way out of the castle, exiting through its rear. Her parents—especially her father—didn’t like it when she left the castle grounds without a guard, but she had no desire to have a hovering presence trail her when she just needed air.
She was afraid someone would spot her, but the servants were deep in their preparations for the massive betrothal feast that was taking place the next evening, and no one paid her any mind. Her tension dissipated as soon as she slipped past the open castle gates, making her way to the thick patch of forest that lay just beyond the castle.
Caitria lowered her cloak, inhaling the cool air scented with fragrant fall leaves and damp earth, until she reached her favorite clearing. She tossed aside her cloak and lifted her gown, slipping out of her shoes to dip her toes into the stream that meandered through the clearing. She wondered idly what the ocean looked like and closed her eyes, picturing herself climbing onto her favorite horse, Kerr, and riding to the ocean. And then after that, to some unknown destination. Her smile widened at just the thought.
“What has ye smiling so, lass?"
Caitria stiffened at the familiar voice. She removed her feet from the stream and turned.
One of the clan nobles, Ferghas, stood several yards behind her, leaning against a tree with a flirtatious smile. Ferghas had been the top contender for her hand before her father chose Artair. While he was handsome, affable, and well liked, there was something about him that made her skin crawl. She preferred the distant Artair over him.
Unease swirled through her veins as he stepped closer. How had he known she was here? Had he followed her?
“Just thinking of the betrothal feast,” she lied, and took pleasure in how his smile fell. “I should get back tae the castle.”
"Please allow me tae escort ye," he said, stepping forward to take her arm, linking it with his before she could reply.
She gritted her teeth and walked along with him, as he continued, "I must confess my disappointment that yer father chose Laird Dalaigh over me for yer hand. Ye ken I've always cared for ye, lass."
Caitria had known Ferghas for years through the gatherings her father held at the castle, and she'd noticed him watching her. But he'd watched her with a dark predatory gleam in his eyes, like that of a wolf stalking his prey, and it chilled her to the bone.
"I'm sure ye'll wed a lass who'll make ye happy," she returned, now regretting the decision to leave behind her guard.
He stopped walking and turned her to face him, his dark eyes intense as they probed hers.
"Ye're the only woman who'll make me happy, Caitria.”
Caitria swallowed, unease rippling through her.
"I'm betrothed tae Artair."
"That boring man cannae make ye happy, Caitria," he insisted. "I can."
"The decision has already been made," she said, as his grip tightened on her arm, uncomfortably so. "Please—let me go."
But Ferghas's hold only tightened, and tendrils of pain coiled through her as his eyes darkened.
"My lady."
Caitria whirled, and Ferghas released her. Relief coursed through her at the sight of her chief guard, Hendry.
“Hendry,” Ferghas said, beaming. Gone was the man who seconds before brimmed with danger, and in his place the affable man everyone in the clan adored. "I'm glad tae see ye. I was just escorting the lady back tae the castle."
Hendry still looked suspicious, though he gave him a nod.
"I'll escort the lady back, as is my duty," Hendry said.
Caitria scrambled away from Ferghas, giving Hendry a grateful nod.
They headed back to the castle, and when Caitria glanced back at Ferghas, his polite smile had vanished, and there was no mistaking the darkness in his eyes.
Chapter 3
Inverness, Scotland
Present Day
“I think this is going to be a part of my new job description. Helping people travel through time,” Scott said, offering Niall a wide grin.
Niall returned his smile, shooting him a brief, wry glance as he maneuvered his car through the streets of Inverness.
After his latest nightmare about the mystery woman, he’d been unable to sleep—and he knew what he had to do. He’d called Scott, who’d picked up on the first ring.
“I can’t live with myself if there really is someone out there who needs my help,” Niall had said. “I . . . I need to go to her.”
A pause had settled in on the other end of the line, and Niall had feared Scott would admonish him.
“Well, then. Let’s get you out of the twenty-first century,” Scott had replied, to his great relief.
They'd taken the train from Edinburgh to
Inverness earlier that day. Niall had planned for an extended absence before his departure, informing the museum and his work contacts that he needed to leave the country to deal with a family emergency.
He and Scott were now headed to vintage and antique stores for Niall to collect the final items he'd need before his journey. Thanks to his father and grandfather, he already had a medieval outfit—a tunic and breeches, and even English and Scottish coins from the fourteenth century. A medical contact of his father's had given him tablets of penicillin, thankfully not asking too many questions when Niall collected them before his departure from Edinburgh.
He was able to put his belongings into a pocket his father had sown into the sleeve of the medieval tunic, as the only way of bringing things from the future to the past was to have it on your person, and even then, such items weren't guaranteed to survive the journey.
He could have undertaken these final errands on his own, but he needed Scott for moral support. Though his family were well-worn time travelers, this was his first venture to the past, and Scott had seen his sister Isabelle safely off to the fourteenth century. Besides, he figured Scott’s presence would prevent him from mulling too much over the sheer insanity of what he was doing—traveling back through time on account of dreams.
But they’re more than dreams, he told himself. His gut instinct told him that this woman was real; she was in danger, and for whatever reason, he was the only one who could help her.
“How do you know exactly where to go?” Scott was asking, as they pulled into the parking lot of a vintage weapons store. “How do you know you won’t end up in prehistoric Scotland? Renaissance Italy? Ancient Mexico?”
“This is going to sound crazy,” Niall said after a brief pause, and Scott barked out a laugh.
“My friend. We are beyond sounding crazy at this point.”
“I think—because I’m having dreams about this woman—I’ll be sent right to her once I go through the portal.”
It was hard for him to admit this out loud. Even though he knew the reality of time travel, his rational mind refused to go beyond that—to the notion of fate tying him to some unknown woman in the past. But there was a reason he was having the dreams, a reason they were so real and vivid to him.
He wondered if the stiuireadh had something to do with his dreams. The stiuireadh were descendants of druid witches who assisted travelers through time. But his family was capable of traveling through time on their own without assistance. He suspected the cause of his dreams would remain a mystery.
“So, what’s your backstory?” Scott asked moments later, after they’d left the vintage weapons store with a dagger that Niall could stow beneath his tunic. “I’m sure the people of the past will be curious about a man with a modern Scottish brogue suddenly showing up in their midst.”
“I’m a traveling wine merchant making my way through the Highlands on my way to the Low Countries,” he replied.
He’d decided on this backstory once he knew he was traveling to the past; he could pretend to do business in a nearby village while he tried to get close to the woman to figure out what danger she was in. Given her clothing, she was likely highborn, and he figured a wine merchant would have relatively easy access to a castle—and she did live in a castle, according to the images in his dreams.
Scott nodded his approval and gave him a sly grin.
“One thing I’ve failed to ask you. Is this mystery woman ‘bonnie’?” Scott asked, switching from his American accent to Niall’s Scottish one.
“That’s not what this is about,” Niall said with a scowl, though a sliver of heat crept through him at the memory of the woman’s beauty. “I just want to help her if I can. I’m hoping that when I find her—if I find her—she’s perfectly fine, and I can return in less than a week or so. And then my life can go back to normal without those pesky dreams.”
His tone left no argument, and Scott didn’t pursue this topic of conversation further. His playful expression faded as they slid back into the car.
“If you happen to arrive in the same year as my sister . . . ”
Scott looked uncharacteristically shy as he slid a letter out of his pocket and handed it to him. Niall took the letter, giving his friend an understanding smile as he slipped it into his pocket.
Scott gave him a nod of thanks, his vulnerability plain. Though Scott was a jokester and tried to keep things lighthearted, Niall knew how much he missed his sister.
“I need a brief break from time-travel talk,” Niall said, starting up the car. They'd only discussed his upcoming time travel during the journey from Edinburgh and as they ran errands. “Tell me what’s going on in the world of Scott Chapman.”
As Scott told him about his new class of students and their prowess in the subject of classics, Niall listened and tried to absorb his surroundings as he drove—his modern, twenty-first century surroundings. The cars that clogged the streets, passersby on their cell phones, a plane flying above in the distance. All the comforts of modernity—and he was leaving it all behind.
Temporarily, he told himself. This little mission would be temporary, and once he returned, he had no intention of going to the past again.
He slowed his car down at a stop sign, and casually glanced to his left, where Old High Church stood. Gazing at it, a sudden and powerful wave of déjà vu seized him. He'd visited Inverness and the church—one of the city's prime historical sites—many times, but this was a different sort of déjà vu. The sense that he had and had not yet been here before—which made no sense.
"You could at least pretend to listen," Scott said, his lips twitching with an amused smile. "I just said I'm going to fly to Mars tomorrow, and you nodded."
“Sorry,” Niall said apologetically, shaking his head as if to rid himself of the odd sense of déjà vu. He considered telling Scott what he'd just experienced, but he didn't know how to explain the sensation. He swallowed, turning his focus back to the road. "I'm just nervous about tomorrow."
“I would be, too,” Scott said, giving him a look of understanding and sympathy. "But I'm glad you're doing it."
When Niall returned to the hotel room he’d booked for the night, dread swirled through his gut. What had that sense of déjà vu been about? Was it some instinctive warning?
And what if he couldn’t time travel after all? Or what if he could, and it went horribly wrong, and he died during the journey? Such occurrences were rare, but his father had spoken of relatives who’d attempted to travel—only their bodies couldn’t handle the journey and they didn’t survive.
But he had to admit to himself that he was the most worried about his journey through time succeeding. Fourteenth-century Scotland wasn’t necessarily the most peaceful time for his country; there was rampant clan warfare, battles with the English, and a little thing called the Black Plague, which struck Scotland in the earlier part of the century.
Niall set aside his fear with great effort, taking a deep breath as he closed his eyes. He had no choice; he knew that if he didn’t go, the dreams would continue to plague him. He just needed to get this over with so he could get his life back.
He didn’t dream of the woman that night, his sleep black and empty, but this didn’t bring him relief. It chilled him to the bone, and he woke up with a cold unease. What if he was already too late?
“What happened?” Scott asked, taking in Niall’s pale face as they slid into their rental car the next morning. “Another nightmare?”
“I just didn’t sleep well,” Niall said, not wanting to voice out loud his fear that he was already too late to rescue the mystery woman.
“Well, you look the part,” Scott said, his eyes roaming over Niall.
Niall wore a white tunic and a pair of breeches. He’d gotten some curious looks as he’d checked out of his room, with the clerk asking him if he was attending a medieval festival.
Scott had offered to take over the driving to get them to Tairseach, for which Niall was grateful. His stomach ch
urned with nervous anticipation during the entire drive, which rose to a crescendo by the time they arrived at Tairseach.
Niall took in the ruins of the ancient village, a village that had once been home to druids who’d mysteriously disappeared. He’d been here several times before with his father, watching as he disappeared amid a vortex of wind. There were portal villages like Tairseach all over the world, but this was the one the Scottish branch of his family used to travel through time.
Though Niall had come here before, anxiety still spiraled through him as he stepped out of the car. He’d always found Tairseach unsettling, but he supposed it should be. It was a preternatural place, a portal that transported people through time and space.
He turned to glance back at Scott, who was leaning against the side of the car. As someone without the ability to travel, Niall knew that Scott couldn’t see Tairseach—he could only see a wide expansive field.
“This is so . . . weird. I just dropped my sister off here only weeks ago,” Scott said, shaking his head with a sigh.
“Unlike your sister, I have every intention of returning,” Niall said firmly. He stepped forward to give Scott a brief embrace. “Thanks. For everything.”
“It was my pleasure,” Scott said, returning Niall’s embrace before stepping back. “I hope you find your girl.”
Niall wanted to correct Scott—the mystery woman wasn’t “his girl.” She was just someone he wanted to help if he could.
But he just gave his friend one last smile before turning and approaching Tairseach.
He looked around, his gaze landing on the crumbling castle that lay at the edge of the village. His father always went to the ruins of the castle when he traveled, but he’d told Niall that one could travel from anywhere in the village. You just follow the wind, his father had said, as if traveling through time was just a matter of stepping onto an elevator and pressing a button.
Niall's Bride: A Scottish Time Travel Romance (Highlander Fate Book 4) Page 2