Highlander Hunted: A Scottish Time Travel Romance (Highlander In Time Book 8)

by Rebecca Preston

  "Who're you?" she said curiously.

  Helena blinked, coughed a little to clear her throat.

  "My name's Helena. What's yours?"

  "Mary Morrison," the girl said firmly, taking a few steps closer to Helena now that introductions had been made. "You were snoring, you know."

  "Was I?" Helena couldn't help but grin — it was such a ridiculous thing to feel embarrassed about, and yet she could feel herself blushing. "How silly."

  "Yes. It was really loud," the little girl said wisely. "You woke up Eric."

  "Who's Eric?" she said curiously. Did Mary have a little brother? Oliver had mentioned his daughter, but he hadn't mentioned a son — but the mystery was resolved when the little girl held the bear at her side aloft by one furry arm.

  "This is Eric! He needs his rest," she said reprovingly. "He keeps me safe, you know."

  "Does he now?" Helena stifled a yawn, stretching a little. It was clear that she wasn't getting back to sleep any time soon… but at least it was dawn. With the light of the sun in the cheery little farmhouse, it was hard to feel too frightened of monsters stalking through the night.

  "Yes. From bears and wolves and all the monsters in the world," Mary said firmly, hugging the bear to her chest. "Ma sewed him up for me and she said she put lots and lots of magic into him."

  "Mums are good at that," Helena said with a smile, thinking of the stories her own mother had always told her and her sister about how she'd always keep them safe. "They get a special kind of Mum magic."

  "Do you have magic?" the girl wanted to know, taking a few steps closer to scrutinize her.

  Helena couldn't help but laugh a little at that. The truth was that it was a very long story — but the girl seemed to want a quick answer, so she just shrugged.

  "Not yet. But that's only because I'm not a mum."

  "Oh," Mary said thoughtfully. "That makes sense. Why are you in my house?"

  "Your daddy invited me and my friends to stay," she explained, smiling as she set about folding up the blankets she'd slept under. "We were out late, helping keep an eye on his flock of sheep. We're from the castle."

  "Castle MacClaran?" The little girl's eyes went wide. "I've been there once, did you know! I met Laird Donal and he said I was going to be big and strong one day, and he let me hold his sword, and my daddy took me all the way to the top of the roof and he said I might be scared of how high up I was but I wasn't scared at all!"

  Helena couldn't help but laugh. The plucky little girl was reminding her a lot of Bec. "I bet you weren't," she said with a smile.

  "And I met Delilah and she said that when I was a bit bigger she'd teach me how to fight with a sword," Mary said proudly, her eyes gleaming.

  "I bet she will, too. She's a good teacher."

  "You know her?"

  "Yeah, we're friends."

  Mary was clearly bursting with more questions — but before she could answer them, Oliver had emerged, blinking and yawning as he roused himself from sleep. It wasn't long before Brendan and the guards had joined them, and Mary grew shy at that point, retreating behind her father's leg when she realized how many strangers were in her house.

  "Can I offer you lads some breakfast before you set off?" Oliver wanted to know. He was still worried, Helena could tell by the look on his face, but he clearly wanted to do his duty as a host. But Brendan shook his head, giving the man a smile.

  "No, Oliver, you've given us more than enough hospitality for now. Besides, we need to be on our way. We're hoping to investigate the caves and hopefully find our missing guards before too long. And I'll talk with the Laird about stationing more guards around your house, just to make sure you don't see any more footsteps."

  Oliver nodded gratefully, glancing down at Mary, who looked nonplussed — but not frightened, which was ideal. Helena hoped the little girl wouldn't get frightened of whatever was creeping about in the night. The adults were frightened enough as it was… it wouldn't do for the plucky little girl to get frightened too.

  The six of them headed out not long after. It was still early, and the mists were still thick, but as the sun climbed higher in the sky it was possible to see further and further. Helena was riding on the back of Brendan's horse, her arms wrapped around him. Despite the awkwardness between them — they still hadn't really resolved the dispute they'd had a few days earlier — it felt very, very good to be so close to him. She told herself to stop enjoying it so much… but she just couldn't. He smelled so good, his body was so warm against hers, and if the gentle motion of the horse kept bumping her closer and closer to him, well, that wasn't her fault, now was it?

  The fog had mostly lifted by the time they reached the edge of the sandstone cliffs. Helena jumped down first, eager to finally be here. Sure enough, she recognized the landscape from the visit she'd made back in her own time. It hadn't been that long ago, surely — less than a week, in fact. That was so strange. It felt like a whole eternity… and she smiled to herself as she walked toward the edge of the cliff. The view was a little different now, but in the grand scheme of things, rocks and landscapes didn't change much, even over a few hundred years. She wished, suddenly, that she could control time travel. She'd love to be able to jump through the centuries, to see the landscape actually changing over thousands and hundreds of thousands of years…

  But of course, that was impossible, she thought with a sigh, trying to shake off the idea. She couldn't even travel back to her own time if she wanted to … what hope did she have of going any further than that? Besides, they were here for a purpose. Brendan and the guards were investigating the area already, striding up and down the cliff area, calling the names of the missing guards. Brendan took charge, sending two of the guards to walk along the top of the cliffs in one direction, the other two in the other. Then he joined her at the edge of the cliff, staring out across the moors that lay below the cliffs.

  "It's a beautiful place," she said softly, the thought occurring to her that she hadn't spent much time actually appreciating the countryside she was in. "So different to home."

  "Aye, she's a gorgeous country," Brendan said softly. "I hope… Helena, I hope you'll find a way to be happy here. I know you want to go home, but… well, Scotland could treat you well, if you'd let her."

  She sighed, glancing sideways at him. It seemed that what she'd talked about with Jamie had been eating away at him. Did that mean he wanted her to stay? Could that mean he felt something for her… she bit her lip, trying not to let herself go down that road just yet. They had other things to focus on than the nature of their relationship. Still, she couldn't help but feel a warm glow in her chest. Despite all the complications, she still liked this man a great deal. She only hoped he could figure out a way to like her, too — not just for the resemblance she bore to his dead wife.

  "We should search the cliffs," she said, shaking herself out of those reflections. "When I came here there was a path down to the entrance…"

  "There's no path," Brendan said blankly. "A goat couldn't climb down there —"

  But Helena was ignoring him, her practiced eye scanning the cliff for a way down. There — a rock formation mostly obscured by bushes and grass growing. She scanned the area and grabbed a stout branch to balance herself with, then carefully started picking her way down the narrow path she could just make out under all the greenery. Sure enough, she was able to make her way down the cliff face a few dozen feet… and it wasn't long before she'd found a familiar flat area.

  "Brendan! Here!"

  It was the same platform she'd found her way to in the future — it had to be. The plants were different, and it was a lot less worn down by the passage of countless feet, but it was the same place. Which meant… she turned, scrutinizing the rocky wall, narrowing her eyes… sure enough, she could see the gap that lead through into the cave. It was cleverly obscured by bushes and trees that were growing across it, but as she carefully approached, she could see that there was a way to push the branches aside to revea
l a reasonably sized passageway leading into the cave.

  There was the sound of muffled cursing as Brendan navigated his way awkwardly down the rocky path to the ledge. Finally, he was at her side, breathing heavily from his exertion, and she grinned to herself, noting that while he might be better with a sword and on horseback than her, she had him beat when it came to getting down cliff faces. They stared at the rocky passage together, a little unnerved.

  "I told you there was a cave," she said, more to break the silence than anything. He nodded, gazing at it, his jaw tight. "Should we go in?"

  "We should find the men first," he said softly, frowning at the passageway. "It doesn't look like it had been disturbed in years… I can't help but think that if they'd come this way, they'd have left some trace."

  She nodded, in full agreement with his assessment. This path hadn't been disturbed by humans in a long time… if at all.

  Brendan sighed, gazing at the cave entrance. "At least we know the monster's not hiding in these caves… if it's a monster at all," he added with a frown.

  "I hope it's not," she said simply. "But we don't know that it's not hiding in the caves."

  He frowned at her. "But this entrance —"

  "This entrance hasn't been used in years. But there are plenty of others — I've seen the schematics. At least five entrances in the cliff face here, and probably more in the various places that the caves reach… finding them was part of what I was interested in doing." She sighed. "Feels like a very long time ago now."

  "Right," Brendan said softly. "Well. We can worry about other entrances later. For now, let's see if we can find —"

  But he broke off, his eyes widening as the sounds of shouting reached their ears. The shouts were echoing from down the cliff a ways. Together, they climbed back up to the top of the cliffs, supporting each other as they scrambled back up the steep, rocky little path. At least they'd be able to find it again easily if they needed to get into the caves at short notice — their passage up and down had cleared a lot of the debris, and the path down was a lot more obvious than it had been. Brendan took off running down the cliff in the direction they'd heard the shouts from, and Helena hurried after him, sparing a brief glance for their horses. They were tethered to a tree, cropping peacefully at the grass, for all the world as though nothing at all was wrong.

  She envied their calm as she came upon the huddle of guards, all four of them standing around something on the ground, obscured from her view. Brendan was there, too, and the expression he turned to her was full of horror.

  Chapter 17

  “Helena — no. Go back to the horses."

  She frowned, irritated by his condescending tone. He had moved toward her when he saw her approaching, still breathing hard from his run along the cliff tops. She tried to see what the guards were obscuring from her sight, impatient, but Brendan was right in front of her now, trying to force her back away from the little gathering. Irritated, she shoved him right back, clearly shocking him a little with the force of her conviction.

  "Brendan! I'm not a child. What's happening?"

  "You don't want to see this, lassie," one of the guards said heavily.

  The grief on his face was palpable, and she knew without even seeing what they were hiding that it was bad news. That wasn't the kind of expression one wore when it was good news. She struggled with Brendan a little more, then pinned him with a dagger-eyed look until he finally relented, lifting his hands in surrender and letting her past. She closed the distance between them, stepping around the men to see what they were looking at.

  It was exactly what they'd feared. Two men, wearing MacClaran tartan, lying in the grass a few feet from the edge of the cliff … but they weren't sleeping. Their bodies were torn, and mutilated, deep gouges carved all the way across their bodies — their legs, their torsos, even their faces. Both men's eyes were standing open, staring in horror at something unseen… and Helena caught her breath at the horrific injuries that they'd both sustained. She scanned the ground, feeling sick to her stomach, not wanting to look at the bodies any longer — had they defended themselves from whatever had attacked them? Sure enough, there were a couple of torches lying a few feet away, long burned out. This attack had taken place at night, then. And it didn't take long to find the men's swords, lying some distance away, too.

  "These poor men," she said softly. The other guards were standing in eerie silence, staring down at their fallen comrades, clearly at a loss for what to do. "What kind of — what kind of wounds are they?"

  "They look like they've been cut with blades," Brendan said softly, his voice hoarse with the gravity of the situation. "Multiple blades, close together…"

  "It doesn't look like something a bear could do, that's for sure," one of the guards said, and Helena could hear how hard he was fighting to stop his voice from shaking. "It looks like… well, it doesn't look like bites, either. Bears don't do that, do they? Bears don't…"

  "Bears would eat their kill," another guard said, and this man's voice was shaking with anger. "From what I've read about bears, they don't kill just for the sake of it. This was no bear."

  "Aye," Brendan said heavily. "I think that's the case too. Those wounds are too clear, too regular…"

  "Did you see…" Helena swallowed hard, her heart pounding as she revisited a memory she'd been doing her best to distance herself from. "Did you see … That thing, last night."

  The guards looked at her, their faces closed, their jaws set.

  "Its claws. Did you see them? Before it reached me… it was reaching toward me with its hand. It had these long talons… they looked like they were made of iron, or something." She gazed down at one of the men, at the four deep gouges cut into his face — and she spread her own fingers, placing them on her face. The guards watched her in silence.

  "You think it was that thing?" Brendan said softly, looking back and forth between her demonstration and the dead man's clawed face. "You think it did this to them?"

  "I wish there was another explanation," she said softly, shaking her head. "But I can't think of one."

  They stood in silence for a long moment there, no sound but the gentle stirring of the wind through the branches. Finally, Brendan heaved a sigh, taking charge of the situation again. "Listen — I think it's best that we call this a bear attack, at least for now. Whatever that thing is — and it may well be a bear, though a very sick one — it won't do to frighten the locals about it until we know more about what it could be. For now, we tell them it's a bear, and to keep themselves safe inside at night and their flocks as close to home as possible." He sighed, running a hand through his dark auburn hair. "And we do our best to figure out what this thing is before it kills anybody else."

  "We have to get them home," one of the guards said, his jaw tight. "To their families."

  "Aye, we'll see to it," another guard said softly, clapping his hand on the first man's shoulder. Carefully, they set about gathering the men's bodies, using ropes and blankets from the backs of the horses to gently wrap the bodies and lift them onto the horse's backs.

  Brendan and Helena stood by, feeling a little distant from the proceedings, understanding that this was a kind of funereal process that they didn't need to be a part of. Helena stared out over the edge of the cliff, wondering about the creature, wondering what those men had seen before they'd died… and feeling a deep sense of dread at the idea that she'd very nearly ended up like them. Dead in the grass, covered in deep wounds, her eye staring in terror at the monster that had claimed her life…

  "I don't think I thanked you," she said softly to Brendan, startling him a little. He, too, had been staring into the distance, and he turned to her now. "For saving my life last night."

  "Of course," he said gruffly, looking a little awkward. "Of course I saved your life. I couldn't exactly have left you out there to die, could I?"

  "Still. You have my gratitude, Brendan. Truly. I know —" She hesitated, glancing over at the guards. "I know we h
ave a lot to talk about —"

  "When we get back," he said simply, shrugging his shoulders. "Now's not the time."

  "No," she agreed, her eyes troubled. "But when we get back —"

  "Ready," one of the guards called.

  The men's bodies had been securely fastened on the backs of a couple of the horses, the guards volunteering to walk rather than ride in deference to the cargo they were transporting. Brendan offered her his hand to help her onto the back of the horse again, but she shook her head. It felt strange to ride when the guards were walking. So she joined them on foot, Brendan leading the procession, the guards and Helena walking beside the horses who were carrying the bodies of the men.

  It was a long trek back to the castle. Helena quickly lost herself in the rhythm of walking, in the gentle touch of the breeze across the moor on her skin. If it hadn't been for the gravity of the situation, of the seriousness of the cargo they were transporting, she almost would have enjoyed the walk. Nobody spoke — the men walked in silence, their faces drawn, and she recognized a way of grieving their companions in the careful way they preserved each other's silence in the space. Something beautiful about it… and something very sad, too.

  The shadows were growing long when the castle came into view, and Helena realized with a shock that they'd been walking all day. She could feel the day's exertions as a thin grime on her skin, and she was already looking forward to bathing once she got into the castle — a hot basin of water and a soapy bath standing over her table sounded very appealing indeed. Brendan had shared road rations with them — hard-baked buns with currants in them, rather plain but still tasty, but she was looking forward to a hot meal, too.