The guards on the wall gathered close, curious about what their fellows were bringing back, and Helena's stomach sank as she realized that the bad news hadn't reached the castle ahead of them. Brendan turned to her as they moved through the half-open gate, his expression torn — she waved him away.
"You go and tell them what happened," she said softly, taking the reins of his horse. "Let me take care of the horses, okay? I'll meet you inside for dinner. We'll talk then."
As much as she'd been looking forward to a bath herself, she knew the horses came first. Marianne's lessons in riding hadn't just dealt with the horseback part — she'd been taught how to tack and untack a horse, too, how to rub them down after a long ride and put them away safely in their stalls. As Brendan headed over to the gathering crowd of guards to tell them the sad tale of what had happened, she set about making sure the horses were well taken care of. They were sweet animals, docile and kind… she felt an odd burning gratitude for them that she'd never felt for a car or a train for getting her from place to place.
It was almost full dark by the time she was heading inside. Sure enough, Brendan was waiting for her in the entrance hall, looking about as exhausted as she felt — but he gave her a smile as they headed into the kitchen and out the back door to wash their hands before going into the hall together, and that simple gesture was incredibly comforting. They loaded up their plates with roasted meat and vegetables and found a quiet corner to debrief in. It seemed the news was spreading — she could sense the tension in the room as the story of what had happened to the guards spread from group to group. It seemed like everyone in the castle was deep in conversation about it all.
"How are you holding up?" she asked him, a little worried about the expression on his face. He heaved a sigh, rubbing his face.
"As well as can be expected, I suppose. I hate not knowing what's doing this. And now that it's attacking people as well as animals… it's all the more important that we figure it out." He heaved a sigh. "I've requested to meet with the Laird tomorrow to discuss it all, after the morning meal."
"I'll come with you," she said immediately. He smiled at her enthusiasm, but his face was still shadowed.
"Helena — you can't go doing what you did last night ever again, do you understand me?"
She took a breath. "I know. It was stupid. I just…" She bit her lip. How did she explain how she'd been feeling? It felt unbelievably stupid now, in the wake of everything that had happened… the very real danger of the monster that had killed two men. That would have killed her, if it hadn't been for Brendan. "I felt so lost. So out of control here. I'm so far away from home… there's so much I don't understand, so many people I miss, I just…" She sighed, rubbing her face with her hands, hating how incoherent she felt. "I just got… angry, and sad, and defiant, and it felt like a good idea to do the one thing people kept telling me I couldn't do. To go and find the caves."
"Well, you found them," Brendan pointed out, an amused look on his face that was warring with the clear anger he was feeling. "And you nearly met your own death in the process."
"It was a stupid thing to do, and I'll never do it again," she said, shaking her head. "Truly, Brendan. You'll have nothing to worry about from me again."
"Glad to hear it," he said, his voice still touched by his anger… but she could tell from the clearer look in his eyes that her apology had made it through to him.
Well, at least one of them was capable of apologizing, she thought with a flare of resentment. They still hadn't revisited the subject of his little slip-up.
"And for my part… I'm truly sorry for how I handled our conversation the other day," he said, keeping his eyes on his food as he spoke. It was clear this was difficult for him.
She raised an eyebrow, a little surprised by the apology. "What do you mean?"
"I shouldn't have been angry with you. Shouldn't have lashed out. What you said was absolutely sensible. You're not Brigid, and it's an insult to both of you to assume that you are just because you bear her such a striking resemblance." He was trying to smile, though she could see the pain on his face clear as day. "I know a little of what it's like to feel… sad, and angry, and out of control. I had hoped that you would be able to help me… stop feeling that. But that's unfair to you. Brigid's gone, and I don't just get to stop grieving her because you're here."
"Thank you," she said softly, touched by the sincerity of the apology. It was clear that he'd given this quite a lot of thought.
He smiled at her softly. "And besides… it's you I want to get to know, not her," he said softly.
She realized with a sudden thrill that he was sitting rather closer to her than he needed to, the heat of his body radiating into her space. She was aware of the smell of him, the scent of sweat and horse from a long day's travel, something sweet about it, something deeply, deeply attractive… and before she could stop herself, before she could even realize who'd prompted the movement, she felt his lips claim hers in a bruising kiss. It lasted for all of a few seconds, but there was no mistaking its intention — a hungry kiss, a passionate one. Not the kind of kiss that could be mistaken for a friendly one. She broke away, her heart pounding, feeling almost dizzy with the impact, and caught a flash of desire in his eyes that made her feel weak.
But then he was rising to his feet, clearing his throat, and she remembered with a dizzy shock that they were in public. She glanced around, wondering if the kiss had been seen by anyone — but it seemed that the people around them were all lost in their own conversations. Brendan was smiling a little, one hand at his lips, a wondering look on his face — Helena could feel herself blushing to the roots of her hair. What did this mean? How was she supposed to respond?
He'd finished his meal, she realized, and to her surprise he offered her an odd little bow and bid her goodnight. That hardly seemed fair, she thought, outraged — but before she could stop him he was walking away, heading off across the crowded hall toward the doors and leaving her a puddle of goo in the dining hall.
Still, despite her irritation with him for leaving her on the edge of her seat like that, she couldn't stop smiling as she finished her meal alone. For all the complications, it felt incredibly good to know that her feelings for him weren't completely one-sided… and it helped, too, that he'd made it clear that he saw her as her own person now, not just a replacement for his wife. She got to her feet and headed for her room, looking forward to finally taking that bath — she flagged down a servant on the way to request bathwater, already anticipating the feeling of the hot water on her skin.
It was everything she'd dreamed it would be and more. She sighed with contentment as she sponged away the sweat and grime of the day, luxuriating in the warmth of her little room and the feeling of finally getting herself clean again. Still, thoughts of Brendan kept creeping in… decidedly inappropriate thoughts, some of them, given her state of undress. Finally clean, she changed into her nightclothes and climbed into bed, her body sore from the day's exertions. But it still took her a little while to get to sleep… she just couldn't stop thinking about Brendan, about the brief kiss they'd shared, and about how much she was looking forward to seeing him again.
Chapter 18
That night, at least, her dreams weren't touched by the stringy-haired monster she'd spent so much time worrying about over the last few days. It was a welcome respite from the worry to simply dream about Brendan all night long… the touch of his hand on her cheek when he'd kissed her, the scent of him, the heat of his body against hers… and a few other imaginings that had her blushing when she finally woke up just after dawn. Rather explicit dreams, they had been… but at least her body was feeling well-rested. She was a little sore from the long walk home still and looking forward to getting a good breakfast into her, but she appreciated the good night of sleep. Much better than trying to sleep by the side of a fire.
On her way down to breakfast, she ran into Audrina, who was full of questions about the day before. She did her best t
o answer them, feeling a little guilty about having put herself in so much danger without so much as a goodbye to her friend. But Audrina was surprisingly understanding.
"Everyone has a bit of a breakdown when they get here," she said, shrugging her shoulders with a surprising elegance. "I'm not surprised you stole a bottle of wine and headed out across the moors, honestly." She winced a little. The detail about the bottle of wine was something she'd kept out of what she'd told Brendan… but Audrina just smiled at her. "It's alright. No harm done. The bottles in the kitchen are cooking wine anyway, nothing particularly valuable."
They sat together at breakfast, Audrina still full of questions about what had happened — about where Helena and Brendan had gone and what they'd found there. Helena told the story in as much detail as she could, but she hesitated a little when it came to describing the monster she'd encountered. Audrina listened intently, and Helena could tell by the attentive tilt of her head that she believed her, that she didn't doubt what she'd seen. That made one of them, at least… here, in the castle in the broad light of day, she was having trouble believing that the monster she remembered was anything other than a hallucination.
"Like we said," Audrina shrugged. "Stranger things have happened than monsters. We're all time travelers, you know? Maybe you're right, maybe it is just a weird bear, or an old sick one, maybe your eyes are playing tricks on you… but maybe not. You don't strike me as the kind of woman who believes in monsters too easily. And besides — didn't you say you've seen this thing a couple of times in the same place?"
"Yeah, but —" She bit her lip, hesitant.
Audrina sighed. "Is it that you don't believe you saw it, or you don't want to believe you saw it?"
"A little of both," Helena admitted after a long pause, forcing herself to be honest with Audrina. She owed her that much, after everything she'd done for her. The older woman smiled, reaching out to squeeze her forearm gently. "There's just… there's so much crazy stuff, you know? Curses and witches and time travel and magic… I want at least some of it to just be… a dream. A hallucination. Something I made up."
"Doesn't look like that's the case, though, does it?" Audrina said gently, and Helena shook her head, not quite trusting herself to speak.
"Anyway," she said briskly, shrugging off the strange urge to cry. "We're going before the Laird in a little while, filling him in on everything that happened. Hopefully he'll have a plan or something… something we can do about all this."
"I don't miss the days when Colin was Laird, I'll be honest," Audrina said with a soft smile, finishing her bowl of porridge. "What with all the chaos going on these days, I'm glad he retired to look after Jamie."
"How's he doing?" Helena asked, wondering about the little boy.
"Much better. Taking it easy still, of course, but he's deep in a bunch of new books from Brendan, getting a lot of reading done. You had quite the impact," she added, her eyes sparkling. "He's using so much modern slang it's starting to make me homesick."
"Sorry," Helena said with a rueful grin, but Audrina only laughed.
"Don't be. It's nice. A reminder of home," she said with a soft smile. "It's nice that my son's getting a little bit of my culture, too — albeit in a strange way. He's obsessed with myths and stories… maybe we should share a few of the old urban legends that floated around in high school…"
"Oh my God," Helena said, eyes widening. "The one with the hook-handed man who used to claw open all the doors of cars while the teenagers were necking at the lookouts —"
Audrina giggled. "God, I'd forgotten that one. We'd have to explain cars in greater detail to him, of course…"
"I did," Helena said, still grinning. "He may or may not still be intending to build one as soon as he can figure out what materials he needed. Fiona's onboard to help," she added, biting her lip.
Audrina just rolled her eyes. "Of course she is. Another project. Just what that woman needs. Well, all the best to you," she said with a smile. "Hope the Laird's got a plan in mind to deal with this sheep-eater, whatever it may be."
Audrina had only been gone for a moment or two before Brendan took her place. He looked much better today — well rested, clean shaven, and with a lot more spark in his blue eyes. She smiled at him, feeling the butterflies in her stomach starting up all over again. "How are you, Brendan?"
"Much better for a night of decent sleep," he sighed. "I appreciated Oliver's hospitality a great deal, but two beds between five men doesn't make for comfort, that's for sure. A privilege to have my own quarters."
"That's true," she said with a smile. "Sleeping in front of the fire was nice and cozy but being woken up by a curious five-year-old wasn't my favorite way to wake up."
"Oh, little Mary. She's a little terror and no mistake." Brendan chuckled. But there was a shadow on his face still, and she could tell he was thinking about the footsteps… about the way they'd clearly lingered outside of the little girl's bedroom.
"I can't help thinking about that thing," she said softly, not wanting to leave him alone in his thoughts. "That thing, hanging around outside her window, staring in at her… I just hope she didn't wake up and see it staring at her. Seeing it once gave me nightmares, and I'm a grown woman. Can't imagine what it'd do to a five year old."
"A five year old like Mary? It'd probably make her grab the closest thing and attack it," Brendan said, clearly trying to lighten the mood… but she could tell how worried he was. "We've stationed extra guards around the place. And if it was going to attack her, surely it would have by now. Maybe it's just curious… or maybe it realized the window was going to keep it out, so it left."
"What could it be?" Helena wanted to know. Her curiosity had been piqued days earlier, when Jamie had told her a little of all the monsters of folklore. "There are no end of fairytale monsters, Jamie was showing me the books of them… is it possible that this could be one of those?"
"If it is, we've got an unbelievable amount to choose from," Brendan said with a roll of his eyes. "If there's any truth at all to the old wives' tales that are so popular around here, well… we've got no end of stories to choose from."
She sighed. "It looked… it almost looked like a person, you know? An old woman with long white hair… does that ring any bells?"
"Could be anything," Brendan said with a shrug. "A witch, probably. But witches generally are known for casting spells, not hunting sheep with their bare talons… then again, I'm sure there are plenty of different kinds of witches. Maybe we should get Jamie on the case. He could do the research for us."
"I wouldn't want to scare him," she sighed. The boy was brave and plucky, but she was reluctant to let him get too overstimulated. Those seizures of his were scary, even if Audrina said they were a lot better than they used to be. "We'd have to make it a game, or something."
"Maybe." Brendan sighed. "Something to think about, though. Let's be on our way? The Laird's expecting us after breakfast."
"It's okay for me to come along?" she asked, tilting her head a little. The Laird always seemed to be surrounded by men — it felt a little odd, as a woman, to be invited into his chambers. Back in her own time, of course, she wouldn't have thought twice about having a meeting with a man who was a senior, rank-wise. But here… she had a suspicion that the 'right' way of doing things would be for Brendan to visit Laird Donal by himself, then report the information back to her.
But Brendan didn't seem interested in that kind of patriarchal structure. "You're the one that saw the thing up close," he said blankly. "If I went alone I'd only be reporting what you'd told me. Best for him to get it straight from the source, I think." He smiled a little. "Laird Donal's not… like that, when it comes to women. Fiona's set him straight on that."
"Good to know," she said, smiling as she rose to her feet to join him. They headed through the winding corridors of the castle, Brendan leading her on an unfamiliar route to a door she hadn't been through before. They knocked on it before entering, and Brendan lead her throu
gh into a receiving chamber.
She'd been expecting a throne room, for some reason — a chair raised high on a platform with the Laird sitting on it, surveying his court. Too many medieval fantasy dramas, she thought with a roll of her eyes. The room was simple in its construction — a large table with a dozen chairs around it, with pitchers and a large jug of water provided. Laird Donal was sitting at this table, but to Helena's surprise — and Brendan's, from the soft sound he made — he wasn't alone. He was deep in conversation with two men that Helena didn't recognize. She hadn't seen either of them before around the castle — and what was more, they didn't look like anyone she'd met here, either.
One man was sitting beside Laird Donal, wearing a worried expression. He wasn't wearing tartan, like most of the men she'd met — this man was clad in what looked like black velvet, and though she was far from an expert in medieval fashion, there was something about the way he held himself and the cut of his clothing that suggested that not only were these clothes fashionable — they were very expensive. They didn't look especially practical, though — neither did the long cloak he was wearing over his shoulders, which, though it looked soft and rather beautiful, also seemed thin and unlikely to keep its wearer especially warm. He looked about thirty, perhaps a little older, and she wrinkled her nose a little as she realized he must be wearing some kind of thick perfume or oil, the scent already filling the chamber.
The man standing behind him, though, looked eminently practical. He was bear-like in build, this man — tall and imposing, with broad shoulders and an ease to his bearing that told Helena that he knew how to conduct himself in a fight. There was a sword at his hip, and she would have been willing to bet that he had other weapons concealed about his person. He was wearing light armor, including some chainmail, and the way he stood close to the other man told her that he had to be bodyguard to him. His sharp dark eyes had shot straight to Brendan and Helena when they entered. There was recognition on his face when he saw Brendan — but his eyes flicked curiously to her, clearly intrigued by her presence there.
Highlander Hunted: A Scottish Time Travel Romance (Highlander In Time Book 8) Page 14