The guard still looked suspicious… but the cold air was clearly getting to him as he drew his cloak closer around his shoulders. "Is that so?" he said suspiciously, peering at Scarlet.
She did her best to look as mad as possible, but she didn't trust herself to speak in case Kieran kicked her bodily into the river.
"Well… I suppose she's safe."
"Oh, safe as houses," Kieran said quickly. "Now she's with me, I'll ensure she gets back home to the Keep and the medical care she so desperately needs."
Later, she was going to have to have a word with him about all the unnecessary little insults he was peppering through this elaborate story.
"But for now… please send my kindest thanks to Lord Weatherby for protecting the girl. I do hope he wasn't troubled awfully by her behavior. Here," he added, reaching into his cloak and withdrawing a little bag that clinked gently. He dipped into it, withdrawing a few coins which he flicked to both of the guards — they looked suitably impressed. Scarlet knew a generous bribe when she saw it. "For your trouble, and for coming out so far on such a cold night."
"Very kind," the guard said grudgingly.
"Here," Kieran added, tossing the whole bag to him. "Pass this along to Lord Weatherby, would you? As recompense for any trouble that she caused. Now, I'll take this young thing back to the Keep. I'd imagine you two have a warm fire to get back to?"
"Aye, we do," the other guard said, a hopeful look in his eye.
She knew the look of a man who'd done far more running for one lifetime than he was happy with and suppressed a grin.
"Thanks, Kieran."
"No, no. Thank you." Kieran gave them both a stately little bow, and before Scarlet knew it, the two of them were retreating back into the forest, calling to their fellow guards to call off the search. The dogs followed after another cursory sniff of the area to ensure they hadn't forgotten any lost scraps of meat… and then she and Kieran were completely alone on the river bank.
Kieran looked down at her, and his expression was absolutely thunderous. "Of all the stupid, ill-conceived, self-destructive —"
Scarlet's temper flared, not for the first time that evening. She supposed she owed Kieran a great debt for stepping in and saving her like that. Who knew what could have happened if the guards had caught her? They'd have dragged her back to Weatherby, who might have dragged her all the way to London to be someone's boring wife… a fate worse than death, as far as she was concerned. So yes, she owed him a debt. But that didn't mean she was going to be scolded like a child.
"Oh, come off it, MacClaran, you great shit," she snapped, pitching her voice to cut right through his.
He stared at her, clearly utterly taken aback, and she pressed on, taking advantage of this brief moment of shock to have her say before he wrung her neck.
"Of course. I came out here. Of course, I came to poke around the Weatherby manor. How could I not, after how goddamn stupid and mysterious and condescending you were about it? You don't get to ban me from going places," she said, narrowing her eyes as she advanced on him, pleased to note that he took a shaky step back before squaring up to her. "You don't get to tell me what to do. And you sure as hell don't get to yell at me for going somewhere when you all but dared me to go there in the first place."
"I absolutely did not! How could I know that you'd take 'don't go to this place' as an invitation to head straight there?"
"Didn't you?" she challenged him, folding her arms triumphantly across her chest. "Then what are you doing here?"
He was silent for a long moment, jaw clenched, eyes blazing with a fury she smugly knew he couldn't do anything with. She was right — his presence here proved it. "Look," he said finally, his voice grating out of his throat unwillingly. "I might have had a hunch that you —"
"I knew it!" Her voice echoed across the river, and he raised a hand to shush her. "I knew it," she repeated, more quietly, grinning at him like a Cheshire cat. "You knew I was going to come here, because you knew that it was a damned fool idea to tell me I shouldn't come here without telling me why —"
"And it was!" he exploded, gesturing angrily at her in a way that made his horse flick its ears backwards against its head. "It was damned stupid! You could have been killed, Emily — Scarlet," he corrected himself quickly. But the slip had clearly affected him. He rubbed his forehead, looking suddenly weary… and in that moment, all of her triumph evaporated. "Scarlet," he repeated softly, shaking his head. "Sorry."
Well, that was inconvenient. There she was, finally having proved him wrong, and now she couldn't even gloat about it.
Chapter 16
“It's okay," she said finally, stepping in a little closer. The wind was chilly, that was all — she was using him as a windbreak. Nothing else to it. "You — you have a point. I could have been a lot more careful."
"I'll say," he said, sounding disgruntled — but he flashed her a quick smile that made her heart feel warm. "What happened?"
"Oh, the usual. Went in, had a bit of a poke around, found a portrait of myself, got thoroughly freaked out —"
"Oh, Emily hated that thing," Kieran said, shaking his head as a fond smile danced across his lips. "She hated sitting for it. She wasn't the kind of woman who liked sitting still for any reason, least of all vanity. It was a good likeness, though, from what I remember. A very good likeness."
"Too good," Scarlet said, shaking her head. "Freaked me right out. I stood there nailed to the spot and then Weatherby found me."
Kieran's eyes widened a little. "He found you?"
"Well, he walked into his own portrait room and there I was," she said, feeling a little embarrassed about the whole situation. But to her surprise, Kieran was chuckling.
"I bet he jumped about a mile out of his fancy boots."
She grinned reluctantly. "He did look pretty pale. Called me Emily a few times before — well, I said something, and I forgot the accent, and I guess he worked it out."
Kieran nodded. "The old fool has had his fair share of experience with you women from the future, after all. Brianna, most recently — he owes her his life, as far as I'm aware. Not that you get much gratitude from the bastard. Pardon me," he added, looking a little embarrassed. But she just snorted laughter.
"If you think 'bastard' is the kind of word that's going to make me faint, you don't know the first damn thing about me."
"I'm beginning to see that that's true," Kieran agreed, giving her an odd little smile that sent a shiver unexpectedly running down her spine. "I'd like to know more about you, Scarlet. Properly, this time. Not just — " He sighed, rubbing his forehead. "You know, I've been having a bit of trouble separating you from Emily."
"Join the club," Scarlet said drily, thinking of the way Weatherby had spoken to her, the proprietary way he'd started speaking of her as though she was a member of his family… and a person he could control. "Weatherby was carrying on as though I was to be adopted."
"He was?"
"Oh, yes. Said he was going to teach me all about her and force me to play the role for the rest of my life. God knows where I'd have ended up. That was when I jumped out the window."
Kieran did a double take, drawing a giggle from her. "You jumped out of a window?"
"Oh, yes. Then up and over the wall and away."
Now he was looking at her with blatant suspicion. "Those walls are ten feet tall."
"So, I'm halfway there," she said brightly. "Come on, Kieran, you've never met a woman who could climb a wall before?"
His eyes looked a little misty. "Aye, I have. Just the once."
"Really?" She was torn between annoyance and amusement. "Weatherby told me a few things about her. She sounded like fun."
"Oh, you have no idea," he said softly. Then he grinned. "Actually, I'm beginning to suspect that you do. She climbed those walls more than a few times in the early days, when we were first courting… she used to flee late at night, come to the village for a few days until they hunted her down again."
"Did they ever send the dogs after her?"
Kieran chuckled. "Not quite. I don't think her escapes were ever quite this dramatic."
Scarlet shivered a little as a cold breeze came across the lake, and Kieran cleared his throat, reaching up to take the cloak from his shoulders. "You must be freezing."
"Well, the running was keeping me warm," she admitted, "but now all the excitement's over…"
"Yes. Well. We'd best be heading off." He put the cloak around her shoulders, and she smiled gratitude, tugging it close. The heat of his body still lingered in the thick fabric — it was almost like being embraced by him… why did that make her feel so tingly? Just the after-effect of the adrenaline, she told herself firmly. And the relief at having gotten back in his good books. For a few minutes there, he'd looked like he was just about to throw her into the river.
"I'm glad you turned up when you did," she said brightly as he turned to grab the horse's bridle — profoundly disinterested in the goings-on, the horse had begun to crop the thick grass that grew by the river, and it huffed irritation as Kieran pulled its head back up. "I was just about to fling myself in the river."
Kieran stared at her. "The river? In the middle of the night? Here?"
"I couldn't think of how else to get the dogs off my scent."
He shook his head as he turned back to the horse. "You're absolutely mad, Scarlet."
"That's what they tell me," she said drily. "Hey, I stashed a rucksack in the trees by the manor. Mind if we swing by and grab it?"
"Tempting fate," Kieran told her firmly. But after a minute, his shoulders slumped, and he gestured back toward the manor. "Lead the way. But let's avoid any more run-ins with guards, hm? I don't know how much water my 'mad young ward of the MacClarans' story is going to hold. We might have some trouble with Weatherby in the next few weeks."
"Sorry," she said, meaning it. "I didn't want to stir up trouble for you all."
He flashed her a quick smile. "Something tells me you don't often mean to bring trouble wherever you go, Scarlet. And something tells me that you do it anyway."
"That'd be about right, actually. Good judge of character, Kieran MacClaran."
"At any rate, we've had our fair share of problems with Weatherby before." He shrugged, leading the horse through the trees as they set off back toward the manor.
She'd figured out where they were, and it was easy enough to know which direction to head in to locate her rucksack — and to her relief, the bobbing points of torchlight had disappeared, all the guards heading back to the manor for the evening now that the excitement had settled down. Just the empty, quiet forest, the wind through the trees, the soft footfalls of the two of them and the thudding of the horse's hooves… it was delightfully peaceful, especially in contrast to the evening she'd had so far, and she felt her heartbeat finally starting to settle from its elevated pace.
"The English and the Scottish don't get on at the best of times, and Weatherby, well, he's everything that irritates us about them. Wealthy, privileged, cruel, careless… it was only a matter of time before we got on his bad side again."
"Well, glad I could help," she said, shaking her head. "Still. I'd appreciate a war not breaking out while I'm just trying to settle in."
"Oh, it won't be war," Kieran reassured her. "Just some bad feeling for a while. Weatherby would never risk something as unpleasant and dangerous as a real conflict. Why, he might have to actually lift a finger instead of doing whatever he does in that stupid great mansion of his every day."
The manor had come into view, and Kieran paused for a long moment, his eyes on the distant walls and a look on his face that made Scarlet hesitate before she prompted him to continue. "Kieran?"
"Haven't been back for seven years," he said softly. "Not since I lost her."
"It must be hard," she said softly, not sure of what to say. Her rucksack was where she'd left it, tucked safely behind a couple of trees that had grown distinctively close together, and she swung it onto her shoulders then turned to Kieran, ready to leave as soon as he wanted to get away. But his expression was still distant. "Losing her, I mean. Childbirth… you know, it's still dangerous in my time, as well as this one. Plenty of women lose their lives. My own mother, actually."
He glanced at her, clearly surprised by the revelation, and they shared a rather vulnerable moment before his brow furrowed. "The thing is… I'm not sure it was the labor that killed her."
"What do you mean?" This was new information.
"I mean — she was as fit and hearty as a horse, my Emily. The minute we knew she was expecting, she leapt into doing just about everything the midwives and healers told her — and then some. There were exercises, special foods to eat, all kinds of things… she was so excited to meet her child, so determined to be the best mother she could be… it just didn't make sense for the birth to kill her. She was twenty-years-old, Scarlet."
She bit her lip. Her own mother had been in her thirties when she'd passed, so her father told her… but labor was a serious medical event, regardless of your age, or how well you'd prepared. "A lot can go wrong," she said softly, thinking back to what she'd read in horrified fascination when she'd been trying to deal with her phobia. "All kinds of things… bleeding can start and never stop, there can be tearing, infections, sepsis… not to mention what happens to the baby…"
"Aye, but she was well enough when the baby was delivered, that's the thing."
Scarlet frowned. "Didn't they take her back to England to have the baby?"
"Oh, no. That's what they told me," Kieran said, a dark glint in his eye. "But I spoke with a few of the kitchen staff, threw around a bit of whisky to make sure their tongues were nice and loose. The baby was born safe and sound at the Manor. And from what they said, Emily was recovering well — sitting up in bed, talking, happy as anything. Just wanted to see our child." His face twisted. "And then they took her away to London. They told the staff it was so she could recover … but these days, the story is that she died in the delivery room. Something's amiss."
"I'd say so," Scarlet said with a frown. "But — you never heard from her again?"
"No," he said softly. "And the fact that you're here, Scarlet… well, it makes it pretty clear that she passed away."
"Maybe not," Scarlet argued, a bizarre hope for this heartbroken man flourishing in her chest. "Maybe she's okay. Maybe she's in London, still, with the baby, even, maybe —"
"Then why are you here?" Kieran asked simply, spreading his hands. "You're the spitting image of her, Scarlet, you said so yourself. And you're from another time altogether. What would have brought you here but the witch's curse?"
Scarlet took a breath, mind racing furiously. "I don't know," she admitted finally, shaking her head. "It just… it doesn't seem fair, for her to have been taken from you like that. I wish I wasn't here," she said, grimacing. "I wish I was still in Philadelphia, getting shot at by cops." His eyes widened a little, and she bit her lip, realizing she'd said a little too much. "You know what I mean."
"Aye, well. I don't think you're responsible for her death, if that's what you're worried about," Kieran said gently. "I don't know who was… but it's certainly not you. And as for Weatherby and his men… I know you're not my Emily, Scarlet. But I'll protect you just the same."
She couldn't help but smile at that. It was a bit old-fashioned, and privately she felt that she'd more than proven she was capable of taking care of herself, slight issue with the guards and the dogs notwithstanding… but she couldn't bring herself to give him a feminist lecture, not when he was being so kind. So, she just smiled, reaching out to touch his forearm in gratitude, feeling oddly… soft toward him. "That's very kind, Kieran MacClaran," she said softly. "Thank you."
He tilted his head, looking at her curiously. "It occurs to me that I don't know your last name," he said.
She hesitated. Should she confide in him? Some part of her wanted to keep her surname to herself, one secret that she wouldn't give up… but l
ooking at his handsome face in the moonlight that filtered in through the treetops, she found herself softening. "It's Adams," she said with a smile. "Scarlet Adams."
"A pleasure to meet you," he said with a smile. "Now, Scarlet Adams. Shall we start again?"
"Is that for the third time?" she joked, raising an eyebrow.
He grinned. "You'll soon learn that we Scots are a superstitious people. You know what they say — third time lucky."
She couldn't help but scoff at that — she was only human, after all, and things were getting so utterly sentimental she felt the abiding need to make fun of him. Still, the way he smiled at her in the moonlight, the way he gestured for her to walk ahead of him on the path so the dust kicked up by the horse's hooves wouldn't get on her clothing… it was charming. So, too, was the way he took her rucksack from her and tethered it onto the horse's pack without asking, even though that meant that he couldn't ride it.
What a strange evening it had been, she thought, feeling a little deliriously in the cool, moonlit air. And what a curious series of developments had led to her walking through the forest, alone with Kieran MacClaran himself.
Chapter 17
In the end, they camped for the night about a half-hour's walk from the manor, where an abandoned little boat shed on the river offered a surprisingly pleasant, dry interior in which to camp out. To her acute gratitude, Kieran had even brought a meal with him — dried meat a little like what she'd liberated from the inn for the dogs, as well as some pieces of cheese and a couple of bread rolls that still tasted very fresh. Definitely more food there than one person would need, she noticed, raising an eyebrow.
"You brought us dinner on the off chance that I was out here?"
He shrugged his shoulders as he set it out. They were sitting cross-legged on the packed earth floor of the boat shed — Kieran had set a little fire to light and warm them and was spreading the food out on the kerchief that it had all been wrapped in, for all the world like a tiny little tablecloth. It all felt rather charming… and, she had to grudgingly admit, romantic. Not that she was thinking along those lines. Absolutely not. With a man who had until very recently been confusing her with his dead secret wife? No way. Besides, she was off men, generally speaking. Too much trouble, too much nonsense. Too much being jerked around.
Highlander Guarded: A Scottish Time Travel Romance (Highlander In Time Book 10) Page 11