Troubled By The Highlander: A Scottish Time Travel Romance (Highlander Forever Book 6)

by Rebecca Preston

  Connor was offering her his hand, and she took it, smiling gratefully as he hauled her off the damp ground with one motion. I must look a mess, she thought with a stab of alarm, looking down at her muddy pajamas and reaching up to touch her tangled bird's nest of hair.

  "Let's get you a change of clothes and a hot meal," he said firmly.

  All she could do was nod.

  Chapter 3

  Connor helped her up onto the back of his horse. The older man made some excuse and rode off not long after — from what he'd mumbled in his thick accent to Connor, it seemed he was a shepherd of some sort. That explained the sheep, she guessed, impressed with her delirium's logical consistency. Usually her dreams made no sense at all. This one was very rational indeed. There was something a little troubling about that.

  But it was pleasant enough, sitting on the back of the horse… especially once Connor had jumped up as well. Gently he prompted her to put her arms around his broad, strong back — she obeyed happily enough, feeling her heart flutter in her chest. He was warm, a pleasant change from the chill of the air on her wet clothes, and the feeling of the horse moving under them was very pleasant, too. He turned the creature around and urged it up the slight slope away from the shore of the lake, where she saw a dirt road that traveled along the treeline.

  "So, you don't remember anything about getting here?" Connor called to her over the sound of the horse's hooves on the dirt road.

  She shook her head, then realized he couldn't see her. "No," she called back, feeling a bit ridiculous. "I was in bed at the hospital in Tunis, and now I'm here, I guess." She laughed. "Here. Whatever that means."

  "You think it's a dream, then?" he asked pleasantly, as though he'd been expecting this.

  That was a strange thing for a hallucination to say. There was more internal consistency to all of this than she was comfortable with. If she hadn't known any better, she'd have sworn that this might actually be real…

  "I mean, I don't know what else explains it." She shrugged. "Any ideas?"

  "Quite a few," he said, and there was something knowing in his tone that sent a shiver down her spine. "You won't believe me, though."

  "Try me," she said. "I'm a doctor and a scientist. We're all about evidence. If you have evidence, I'll accept even the most outlandish theory you've got."

  "Well, keep that in mind." Connor chuckled. "Keep it in mind when I tell you that you're in Scotland and it's the sixteenth century."

  She took that in for a moment. "Right. Why not add some time travel, right?"

  "I told you that you wouldn't believe me."

  "Can you blame me?"

  He laughed. "I suppose not. But you'll come around to the truth, sooner or later. Just like the rest."

  She frowned. "The rest?"

  "Aye, the rest. There's a whole army of you, or thereabouts. Women from the future, brought back here to us at the Sept of Clan Grant."

  She felt strange, having this utterly bizarre conversation with the back of Connor's head. She wanted to see his face, to figure out if he was messing with her from the expression that he was no doubt wearing. This was a joke… right? It had to be. She glanced over her shoulder, watched the trees moving by as the horse slowly plodding along the road toward… where? Where was he taking her? To this Sept, whatever that meant? Suddenly, the complacency she'd been feeling earlier was beginning to fade. The more time passed, the harder it was to write all of this off as some kind of delirium…

  "Brought back?" she asked, trying to keep her focus. Good thing her fever had cleared up… otherwise she'd be utterly incapable of taking any of this in. "By what? Magic?"

  "Got it in one." The man chuckled. "You weren't wrong — you are clever."

  "Seriously?"

  "I did say you wouldn't believe me —"

  "Just tell me," she said with a sigh, shaking her head. "Get all of this madness out in one go, then we can go from there, okay?"

  "Fine. I'm not exactly an expert, though. I'm a member of the Guard and I've seen my fair share of strange things, but it's the scholars of the Sept who'd really be able to give you a thorough explanation. That, or Old Maggie, but the last time I disturbed her this early I got quite an earful for my trouble."

  "Magic?" she prompted him, feeling amusement war with impatience.

  "Right. Magic. So, if it's been the same for you as it has been for the other women, you would've come to us through what's called the Burgh. That's a — a kind of magical gateway between our world and the world of the Fae."

  "The what?"

  "Faeries. Goblins and ghouls and spooks — think of any old wives' tale you've ever heard, and the source of it's probably the Fae. Again, I'm no expert — I've run into my share of Unseelie monsters, and I know what I need to for my work, but… well, anyway. The other women were brought back by the Sidhe. We call them the Lords and Ladies, sometimes. Seelie Fae — that means they're friendly, more or less, and that they mean well."

  "And they brought me through this magical gate."

  "Aye, that's about the size of it."

  "Can I go back?"

  "Well," he said, and for the first time a note of discomfort seemed to creep into his voice. "The thing is — the Burgh's at the bottom of Loch Ness. So, it's a bit of a swim, even if you were to know how to open it… then you'd need the Sidhe to help guide you home, and they're not exactly known for giving out favors for free." Something about his voice suggested he was hiding something — but that was the furthest thing from her mind right now.

  "Did you say Loch Ness?"

  "Aye, that's where we are." He nodded to the water besides them, and she felt a laugh break out of her chest.

  "Seriously. Is the monster home?" she joked.

  But Connor didn't laugh with her. "We don't see much of the Monster these days, I'm afraid. She was wounded with iron recently, and it's made her shy."

  "You're messing with me."

  "I assure you I'm not," Connor said gently. "I wouldn't do that. Not with something this important, at any rate."

  She mulled over what he'd told her, feeling deeply strange. What was it about him that made her trust him so completely — despite the utter ridiculousness of what he was saying? Medieval Scotland — time travel — magic and faeries and monsters? "How do you know all of this?"

  "I'm of Clan Grant. We're sworn to — well, to sort of protect humankind from the Fae, and vice versa. We watch over the Burgh. Act as go-betweens between the Fae and the human world. And we deal with the Unseelie when they come through."

  She took a deep breath. "Right."

  "It's a lot to deal with all at once," he said softly, glancing back over his shoulder at her.

  She felt her heart skip a beat. Up close, he was even better looking than she'd thought, and she was acutely aware that her arms were around him, keeping her steady on the horse's back.

  "For now, I suggest we focus on one thing at a time. First stop, getting you a warm change of clothes. Second stop, a good hot breakfast."

  "I'm not really —" she said automatically, but to her surprise her growling stomach cut her off. She raised an eyebrow. "I guess breakfast couldn't hurt."

  Connor was right. One thing at a time. That way, she might be able to figure out what was going on here without absolutely losing her mind.

  Chapter 4

  They rode into town about ten minutes later, and Karen had to take a few deep breaths. Sure enough, what she saw backed up the utterly insane claim that she'd traveled back in time. It was a quaint medieval village, built on a sloping piece of land descending toward the shore of the Loch, where a number of docks were set up with fishing boats moored at them. There was a main road that rose up the hill toward a rather large church at its peak, and clusters of little cottages lined the road. Smaller streets branched off from it, too, but Connor drew her attention back to a large building on the corner of the road out of town and the street that led away toward the church. It had three stories — she could tell from the
windows — and the sign out the front marked it as an inn.

  "This place has the best ale in town," Connor explained with a wink. "And I know the publican well. He'll put you up for as long as you need… and I reckon his daughter'd be about your size."

  They headed through the door together, and she peered about, fascinated by the place. A fireplace sat in one wall, surrounded by chairs and tables that were empty at present. The bar was rough wood, as was the majority of the furniture — it all had a distinctly handmade look to it. And, she noticed with some pleasure, it was warm in here. On the ride, her hospital pajamas had dried a little, but they were still pretty thin when it came to keeping the cold weather at bay.

  "Connor Grant, you rascal." A broad man emerged from a back room, a rag tucked into the pocket of the pants he was wearing and a smile on his face. "Drinking already? Who's this?" he added, blinking a little as he took in Karen.

  "Thomas, this is Karen Frakes. She's new in town," he said, and Karen saw a meaningful glance pass between the two men. "She'll need a room, if you've got one to spare."

  "Plenty," Thomas said, turning his bright blue eyes to Karen. "You're welcome here, Karen. Will you be wanting something to eat, too?"

  "Aye, and she'll need a change of clothes, too," Connor added, business-like. "Did that girl of yours leave anything behind when she went off with her fellow?"

  "There's a few pairs of old riding clothes, I think," Thomas said. "I'll see what I can track down. You warm yourselves by the fire. It's a cold summer's morning and no mistake," he added with a chuckle. "At this rate we'll all freeze by autumn."

  They settled into a pair of chairs by the fireplace, and Karen was grateful to warm her hands by the little fire that crackled in its hearth. "So — you work in town?" she asked Connor, feeling a little awkward in the silence. Despite all the utterly mad things that were being thrown at her, she still couldn't quite shake the shyness that she felt as a result of being around a guy she was attracted to. Utterly ridiculous, she knew. "What does being a guard entail, exactly?"

  "Well, in any other town it'd mostly be about keeping an eye on the rowdy local lads and mediating disputes between farmers all day long," Connor said with a shrug. "But around here things are a little different. We keep an eye on the mundane stuff, sure, but we're also keeping watch for supernatural happenings. Forewarned is forearmed — and more dangerous things than pretty women come through that Burgh."

  She felt herself blush a deep scarlet at the compliment. Terrified she was going to clam up entirely, she spoke, grabbing the first subject that came to mind. "I'm a doctor."

  "Is that so?" He could tell she was blushing — his eyes were twinkling, and she was deeply, deeply grateful he didn't press the subject. As exhilarating as it was to be flirted with, even slightly, by a guy like this, she was very interested in keeping her cool right now.

  "Yeah. A doctor and an epidemiologist."

  "Now that's a new word to me."

  "A specialist in the spread of diseases," she explained. "We study how diseases affect populations, how they spread and how they can be contained. I was working on an outbreak of a new flu in Tunisia when…" She frowned a little. "Well, when I got sick. But I don't know how I got from there to here."

  "We've had disease go through the village and castle before," Connor said, his face solemn. "It's an awful thing. And you say you've made it your life's work?"

  "Well — it's useful," she said, shrugging her shoulders.

  "And dangerous."

  "Yeah, I guess so." She shivered a little, thinking of the nasty flu she'd come down with. What had happened there? Why was she well again? Would Connor have any insight? "We were looking into a new respiratory condition when I … well, when I came here, I guess," she said with a frown, glancing around the walls of the inn. "I caught it. I was in hospital before I was here, actually. Hence the pajamas," she added, plucking at the fabric. "But I seem to be completely well again now."

  "That'd be the Sidhe," Connor said with a smile. "The Seelie Fae have healing magic beyond what we mortals understand. They'd have taken care of whatever was ailing you before sending you on through the Burgh."

  "Why?" she asked, blankly. "I mean — why me? Why bring me here? Why pull me out of bed like that?"

  Connor hesitated, a worried look in his eye that made her curious — but before she could pry any further, the publican Thomas was back, a bundle of clothing in his arms and a broad smile on his face. "I knew that girl wouldn't have been able to pack all her things. Here you go, Miss Karen. Not exactly the most ladylike fare, but better than what you're wearing," he said as he presented the pile of clothing to her. "She always was a bit of a tomboy."

  Did women only wear skirts around here, or something? The clothing looked perfectly reasonable to Karen… then again, she'd worn nothing but scrubs and protective gear for the last few weeks, so she wasn't exactly a fashion expert. She thanked Thomas warmly for the clothing and he led her up the winding stairs of the inn to a little room with a wooden bed decorated with a warm and cozy quilt. There was also a table — on top of which was a steaming bowl of soup that made her mouth water.

  "I'll leave you to eat and get changed," Thomas said, heading for the door.

  She reached automatically for her pockets — then frowned. "Thomas, I have no way of paying you," she said, alarmed.

  He just waved a hand at her. "The Watch has it taken care of, don't you worry," he said with a smile. "You focus on settling in for now and let me know if there's anything you need. One of the girls will bring you some hot water for a bath later tonight."

  And with that, he was gone, leaving her to peer curiously around the room she was in. By herself, it was a little harder to distract herself from the mounting weirdness of the situation she was in… but the hot soup was calling to her, and she set about quieting the growling of her stomach before she sat back in her chair, the bowl empty and her hunger sated.

  This wasn't a hallucination, she had to admit that to herself. It had gone on far too long, been far too vivid and consistent. Like it or not… she was actually here.

  Which meant she had a whole lot of fundamental assumptions about science to interrogate.

  Chapter 5

  After her meal, she changed into the clothes that Thomas had brought for her. He'd been right about his daughter being the same size as her — the pants were as comfortable as any of her own back home, and by the time she'd layered a tunic and a warm woolen sweater onto her top half, she was feeling warm and comfortable. There was even a pair of boots that was maybe a size too large — they fit for now, though, and she made a mental note to get a few extra pairs of socks to pad the too-large boots out before she did any serious walking.

  She headed back downstairs, wanting to talk more with Connor about the strange situation she'd found herself in — but to her dismay, he'd headed off, Thomas explaining that he was on duty. It seemed the Watch patrolled the village regularly, keeping an eye out for any kind of trouble that might be stirring… she remembered what he'd said about goblins and monsters and shivered a little, peeking out the door where she caught a glimpse of the long road out of town. Thomas explained that at the other end of that road stood the Sept of Clan Grant — a great castle built on a little island close to the shore of the Loch, with a land bridge that connected it to the mainland. A real life castle, she thought with a shiver of anticipation. Would she see it one day?

  The morning passed pleasantly enough — she sat by the fire and half-dozed, half-meditated, trying to give herself the mental space and time to process what was going on. A big part of her kept expecting to wake up from the dream… but that didn't seem especially likely. The more time passed, the more consistent this delirium felt. And as much as it was utterly irrational… what was she supposed to do, just deny the evidence of her eyes? She was here. Fever dreams were never like this — and besides, her fever was long gone.

  Around lunchtime, people began drifting into the pub for lunch. S
he watched from her vantage point by the fire, fascinated by the odd parade of townsfolk who came through — farmers and shepherds, a handful of guards wearing kilts like Connor had worn — none as handsome as him, though, she noticed with a secret little thrill running down her spine — and a pair of young women who giggled and laughed as they sat together at the bar. She gathered from what she heard of their conversation that they were milkmaids, and smiled to herself, thinking of the historical fantasy novels that her little brother was so interested in. There were always milkmaids in those — it hadn't occurred to her that that was actually a real job.

  Thomas was quickly run off his feet fetching and carrying drinks for the patrons of the bar, but before long a young woman arrived, jumping behind the bar and joining him with a practiced ease. She moved back and forth between the patrons, chatting and laughing, and Thomas soon disappeared into a back room. Before long she saw him emerging again with plates of food, and so lunch service swung into action.

  A group of young men at a table by the window seemed to be getting louder and louder as the late morning gave way to afternoon. They were drinking flagon after flagon of ale at a pace that put even the medical students Karen knew to shame. There were half a dozen of them total, all looking to be in their early twenties or so, and Karen was grateful that her vantage point wasn't visible from where they were sitting — given the unpleasant things they kept saying to the barmaid every time she went over to take their next order, they didn't seem like particularly pleasant company. Still, their voices were loud, and it was their conversation she heard the most of. Two of them were in some kind of argument about who was responsible for an illness they'd both seemingly come down with.