"Are you sure this is — okay?" she said softly, trying to distract herself from the odd fluttering in her stomach. "I mean, your wife's things…"
"Ah, she was a practical soul," he said with a fond smile. "She'd be annoyed with me if she knew I was keeping her things from someone who could use them out of pure sentiment. She'd be delighted for you to wear them, truly."
"Well, thanks to you both," Helena said with a smile. She hesitated… but she couldn't fight her curiosity. "Do you know about — about where I'm from?"
"Aye, I do." A shadow passed across his face. "When I lost Brigid, that's when Colin sought me out, told me a tale. All about the curse, the magic that brings women back to replace the ones that were lost… I've been thinking about it a great deal, aye. What with you being like a twin to Brigid… it seems clear what's happened."
She bit her lip. "I'm sorry," she said softly. "If it causes you pain."
"It's not your fault at all, Helena," he said firmly, those blue eyes boring into hers. "You didn't ask to be brought here. And as I said — I'm glad her things can be of use to someone. In a way, it's almost like having her back again." He smiled at her, lowering his head. "I'd best leave you to get dressed. But I hope I'll see you again, Helena."
And with that he was gone, leaving her to dress… and to ruminate on the strange feeling, low in her stomach, that his presence had caused in her.
Chapter 6
A few days passed, reasonably uneventfully. Helena was mindful of taking it slow, of letting herself adjust and acclimatize to this strange place. She took her time getting to know the path from her room to the dining hall, taking the trip three times a day for meals, wandering the halls and becoming acquainted with the layout of the castle by peering through the window. Already, she was getting a sense of the lay of the land, the way the hills swelled — Castle MacClaran was perched on the highest hill in the area, not exactly a cliff, but certainly high enough to have a good view of what was going on around them. She realized with a jolt that the village she'd stayed in when she'd first arrived in Scotland — in modern Scotland, not the one she was in now — was the local village that the residents of the castle spoke of. Did that mean that the sandstone cliffs were nearby? She itched to find them. Perhaps if she returned to the caves, she could find a way back to her own time, out of this bizarre dream…
But she had to admit, there were worse ways to spend time. The food at the castle was delicious. It seemed that Mary, who Audrina explained was her mother-in-law, had a lot to do with that. Helena met Mary on her second day in the castle. She was a willowy old woman with long gray hair and a pair of familiar blue eyes that shone with kindness — Helena liked her as soon as she met her. They had lunch together, the four of them — Cora and Audrina, Mary and Helena, all gathered around the same long, low table, chatting about life in the castle and how Helena was adjusting.
"I met Brendan properly this morning," Helena said, feeling an odd thrill when she said his name and pushing it firmly down. "He came to visit."
"Oh, yes? He's the one who found you out on the moors, is that right?" Mary asked innocently.
Helena couldn't help but grin. It seemed the old woman was rather familiar with the gossip in the castle. "That's right," she said, deciding against asking who'd told her that. "He brought me this dress, actually," she added, gesturing down at the beautiful soft blue dress she was wearing. "It's amazing how well it fits." It had been like getting into something that had been tailored for her — she'd been thrilled, even if it felt a little strange to be wearing clothes that had belonged to someone who had died. Still, like Brendan had said, it wasn't as if the woman was wearing them anymore — and it would have been a shame for such a beautiful dress to go to waste. "These boots, too," she added, gesturing at her feet.
"Interesting," Mary said thoughtfully, tilting her head a little. "I remember Brigid wearing that very dress."
"Yes, he did say they'd belonged to his wife," she said, lowering her eyes. "I didn't want to ask what happened to her, but —"
"A terrible thing," Mary said softly, shaking her head as she took a sip of her water. "Poor Brigid. They lived down in the village, the two of them, after Brendan had returned from his studies in London. He's a tutor to young Jamie, and he used to tutor the young people in the village, too, as well as acting as apothecary. Brigid helped him a little with that work… that may have been what made the witch hunters suspect her."
A chill ran down Helena's spine at the serious note in Mary's voice. "Witch hunters?" That sounded like something out of a fantasy novel. But Mary nodded solemnly. Cora and Audrina had both fallen silent, their eyes on Mary as she told the tale.
"Aye, dearie, witch hunters. I know they don't exist any longer in your own time, but I can assure you they're a very real presence here. Scared men, mostly… frightened of what they don't understand, of women who know things they don't… this particular band got it into their heads that Brigid was capable of dark magic. And unfortunately, once men like that are convinced of something, no force on Earth will persuade them otherwise. Brendan tried, of course. He gave it everything he had. He spent hours talking with them, explaining that Brigid had never shown the faintest interest in magic or the slightest sign that she was capable of it… of course, the hunters only believed that she'd addled his mind with her magic. If anything, it did even more damage."
"What happened?" Helena breathed, her heart pounding.
"What always happens, when witch hunters get an idea into their heads," Mary said heavily. "They came during the day, when Brendan was up at the castle teaching Jamie his lessons. They took her, clapped her in irons, interrogated her for days on end. Whether or not they got a confession from her… well, it doesn't really matter, does it?"
"No," Cora said softly. "There's a point at which you'll say anything, just to make the questioning stop."
Helena looked at her curiously — Audrina was squeezing her hand hard.
"My ancestor," she said softly. "She was an herbalist… suspected of witchcraft and put to death as a result. I have a few of her memories," she added with a shrug. "Enough to know how awful her end was."
"How?" Helena said, shocked by this revelation. The concept of reincarnation was one thing, but sharing memories with a past life? This was all sounding a bit ridiculous.
"Through dreams, mostly," Cora said. "It's worth keeping track of your dreams, just in case."
A shiver ran down her spine as she thought about Brigid, about this poor woman who'd been put to death for no reason. Was it possible that she'd share some of her memories of that terrible end? Honestly, she'd prefer not to…
"Brendan was heartbroken, of course," Mary continued with a sigh. "The loss of her destroyed him. It was all anyone could do to stop him hurling himself at the witch hunters and killing them with his bare hands. He's not a fighter," she said softly. "They'd have ended his life as surely as the ended Brigid's. But he wasn't the hardest hit by her death."
"He wasn't?" Helena blinked, confused. Who would be more badly hurt by the unjust death of a woman than her husband? But Cora and Audrina were exchanging looks, clearly saddened by whatever part of the story Mary was approaching.
"Anne," Mary said softly. "Poor, dear Anne. She moved here from Dublin to raise her daughter — alone, after the death of her dear husband in a fall. She loved that girl with all her heart. It destroyed her completely when she was accused of witchcraft. She would have thrown herself on the fire that killed her if she hadn't been held back by the witch hunters. She blamed herself, it seems. Seemed to think that something about her was what had caused the hunters to suspect Brigid of witchcraft… I don't know myself what she truly believed. It was difficult to understand her, at the end. I sat with her for long stretches, after Brigid died, trying to help her through it… but it was clear to all who loved her there wasn't much hope. What did she have left to live for, after the death of her only daughter?"
Helena could feel tears prickling at the
backs of her eyes. She was thinking of her own mother, who'd been so protective of her daughters… of the way she'd marched into their school one day when Bec had been picked on by a little boy in her grade, incandescent with rage, absolutely ready to fight anyone and everyone if it would ensure her daughter's safety. Helena couldn't imagine what her mother would have done if one of her daughters had been killed in such a horrific way. "What happened to her?" she breathed, thinking of the way Brendan had spoken of his mother in law in the past tense. "Did she die?"
"We suspect so," Audrina said softly, reaching out to squeeze Mary's hand — the woman looked distraught, her eyes on the table. "A year after Brigid's death, she simply disappeared. Her neighbors said they'd seen her wandering out, into the mists of the moors in her night clothes… we searched for her for weeks, but she was never found."
"She was headed for the cliffs," Mary said simply. "She loved those cliffs. Used to go there with her daughter, in happier times. I think…" She took a deep breath. "Whatever happened, I only pray the poor woman is at peace, finally."
They sat in silence for a long time then, Helena working through what she'd just heard. It was a lot to process. With everything she'd been told about Brigid — this woman who'd looked just like her, this young woman in the prime of her life, taken and killed by witch hunters… it was strange, she felt an odd sense of attachment to her. As though they were linked, somehow, and not just by the fact that they looked identical. If the myth was to be believed, Brigid was something like her… her ancestor. It was as though her great-great-great-great-grandmother had been put to death by witch hunters. It made her sad… and angry, too, deep down. Angry, that men thought they had the right to do something like that… to decide who lived and who died.
"Are witch hunters common?" she asked finally, feeling troubled. "Around here, I mean. In these… times. I have to admit, I don't know much about history. I can tell you about carbon dating until the cows come home, but when it comes to human history…"
"Reasonably so, I'm afraid," Audrina said softly. "There's a lot of fear around these parts. Though we've been quiet, lately. Getting better at keeping to ourselves, I think… or at the very least, the locals are realizing that what they call witchcraft is actually just common sense."
"So according to this… this curse, or whatever," Helena said, wanting to get it straight, "I'm Brigid's… descendant. Does that mean Brendan's going to fall in love with me?"
Cora chuckled a little. "That's the awkward question, isn't it? We don't want to — to put anything on you that you're not willing to entertain. But the truth is that every woman who's traveled back in time has ended up betrothed to the man who loved her ancestor. Without exception." She shook her head a little. "But don't worry yourself about that, okay? You just focus on settling in here." She tilted her head, a smile playing across her lips. "But it's interesting that Brendan was so keen to come and visit you —"
"Cora!" Audrina scolded her friend, narrowing her eyes. "Don't make the poor girl feel uncomfortable."
"It's okay." Helena laughed, appreciating the shift in tone. "I mean, it's pretty strange, but… it's no weirder than anything else that's been happening."
"True," Audrina said with a smile. "True enough. Do you have anyone back home? A lover? A partner?"
"Nobody." She shrugged, feeling a little embarrassed. "I mean, I've been married to the job, to my field of study, for so long… and when I do get free time, I'm pretty much a homebody. I'd rather sit at home with a book than go out and meet people, you know? So I'm not exactly the dating type. Not that I don't… you know. Want to, someday. I guess. I don't know!" She ran her hands through her hair, fighting her embarrassment.
Cora was chuckling. "Well, plenty of time for all that later." She smiled. "Books, though, that's interesting. You should check out the library. There's lots of reading material there."
"A lot of it's dreadfully boring, I'll warn you," Mary said with a roll of her eyes. "A lot of it written by men, you see. Endless dull accounts of war and battle. But there's a few gems hidden amongst the dross. I'll help you search, if you'd like," she said with a twinkle in her eye.
Helena smiled, appreciating the gesture. "Thank you." She tilted her head, a little curious. "When am I going to meet all the other women? The ones from the future, I mean. You've mentioned Karin, Bethany and Delilah —"
"I was thinking about that, actually. I think we should all have lunch together. Tomorrow, if you're willing?"
She nodded, eager to meet a few more women from her own time, and they agreed to the plan. After lunch, she headed back up to her room to rest, lost in thought. It seemed that as soon as she was starting to get a handle on what was going on, more stuff was thrown at her. She barely believed where she was even now, after several days of wandering the castle… whenever she thought about it, her heart started pounding and she'd worry she was about to have a panic attack.
So she settled into bed, feeling a bit ridiculous but not knowing what else to do. She hadn't asked for any of this. She didn't want to be here, some strange reincarnation of a woman who'd died — tragically, yes — several hundred years before she was born. What did any of this mean to her? Why was she here? It didn't seem fair, to drag her out of her life and drop her here, in this strange place… no running water, no electricity, none of the conveniences she was used to.
And she felt weird about Brendan, too. The way he'd stared at her… the way he'd called her by his dead wife's name when they'd met… sure, he was handsome, and kind, and nice to talk to. She liked him just fine. Maybe even more than liked him. If it hadn't been for everything else that was going on, she might even have considered asking him out, if he was willing. But knowing that there was apparently some curse, or some magic spell, that was drawing them together… that made it weird. Weirder, still, that she looked just like his dead wife… his dead wife who'd been tragically killed by witch hunters. Witch hunters! How was she expected to make a life in a place where a witch hunt was a literal concept, not just a metaphor? She could feel the panic rising in her as she tossed and turned in bed, her mind racing, nothing to distract her now from the panic that had been rising since she'd arrived here.
Whatever she did, she couldn't get away from the truth of the matter — she was here, wherever here was. She was stuck, for the time being at least. Stuck in the past, hundreds of years from everything that she knew and loved. Hundreds of years away from her family… and from her sister, her best friend. The women here had been nothing but kind to her, it was true, but they were no substitute for Bec. God, she'd kill to be able to talk to her, just for a minute. Bec would know what to do. Bec would already be fitting in here just fine.
But she wasn't her sister. She was just — her. A geologist, a homebody, a woman who was no good at all at adapting to change. She spent her life studying rocks, for God's sake. Rocks didn't change, that was the whole point — it took thousands of years, hundreds of thousands, to see any kind of shift. This kind of sudden change — being catapulted back into the past like this? She couldn't handle it.
How was she going to keep going like this?
Chapter 7
She fell into a restless, miserable sleep, half-awake and half-dreaming. The afternoon wore on, but she didn't get out of bed — what was the point? The world just seemed insurmountable. Here she was, stuck in medieval Scotland of all places, absolutely miserable. What good would it do to get up, to get dressed, to go down to dinner and chat with a bunch of women who were just as trapped and isolated as she was? So she let the sun set and dozed right through dinner time. A few tentative knocks on her door roused her — Audrina, peeking through the gap in the door.
"You feeling okay, Helena?"
"Not really," she said, not looking away from the window she was staring out of. "I'm going to skip dinner, if that's okay."
"Okay. Do you want some company?"
"Not really." She sighed. "Sorry. I think I just need some time to myself."
&nb
sp; She nodded, and with that, Audrina was gone.
She sighed, turning over in bed, feeling restless and annoyed with herself. Company probably would have made her feel better… but she just couldn't bring herself to keep chatting away as though everything was okay. Audrina was nice, but she didn't know her well enough to share what was going on with her. She wanted Bec. She wanted her sister… or her family… someone she knew well. She wanted to be back home in her tiny little apartment near the university. She wanted to be swamped with teaching work. She wanted to get the bus into town, she wanted to have a long, hot shower, she wanted television. She wanted her old life back.
She realized, at some point, that she was crying. Irritated with herself, she dashed the tears away, sitting up in bed… but they were quickly replaced with more. Finally exhausted, she poured herself a glass of water, feeling restless and miserable. She'd spent so much of the afternoon sleeping… she wasn't going to be able to get to sleep tonight. Maybe she could go for a walk around the castle… find that library Mary had been talking about. Or maybe she'd climb to the top of the damn thing and hurl herself off.
That was a surprising thought. A little shocked at herself, she considered it more thoroughly, trying to figure out if it was a real thought or just melodrama. She was having a rough time, it was true… but still, she didn't feel like she'd actually want to harm herself. Still, it was a worry. If her mental health gave way, what would happen to her? Medieval times weren't exactly well known for being super sympathetic to people with depression… she was just as likely to be locked up for being a madwoman as she was to get actual help, if the little she knew about the olden days was anything to go by.
These dark thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door, firmer and more assertive than the ginger tapping of Audrina earlier. Before she could stop herself, she called out to whoever it was to come in — and to her surprise, the door opened to reveal Brendan, a look of concern on his face and a covered plate in his hands. Had he brought her dinner? That was kind of him, she though with an odd twinge of pleasure… but she didn't feel hungry at all. Her stomach felt sick and twisted, and all she really wanted to do was lie in bed feeling sorry for herself.
Highlander Hunted: A Scottish Time Travel Romance (Highlander In Time Book 8) Page 5