“Went and talked to a bunch of fishermen, mostly,” he chuckled, “they’re all in good spirits because the last few catches have been record-breaking. That’s the source of our lunch, by the way. But — aye, yes, I spend most of my days on the docks.”
“Not out sailing?”
“Unfortunately not. I have a little ketch, but I don’t get much time to go out sailing, much to Eamon’s displeasure.”
“That’s a shame. I wish I knew how to sail.”
“I’ll find some time to teach you,” he said, smiling. “It’s an essential skill to have, living on a Loch. Speaking of — can you swim?”
She grinned. “I’m a very good swimmer.”
“Excellent. Then you’ll fit in fine.” He grinned.
“Presuming I don’t get eaten by the Loch Ness Monster.” She pinned him with a raised eyebrow, finally determined to get to the bottom of this question. “Tell me the truth. Is the Monster real, or are you all just messing with me?” She’d had an Australian friend at the Bureau — a woman who’d sworn up and down that Australia was inhabited by ravenous monsters called drop bears, feral cousins to the cute and cuddly koala who’d descend from trees and eat you alive if they got half the chance. It wasn’t until months later that she’d learned that the woman had made the story up completely — following a very embarrassing conversation with one of her brothers, who was travelling to Australia and was perplexed by her suggestion to stay away from heavily wooded areas.
“There are stranger things than monsters in these parts, Helen,” Niall said, spreading his hands. “Nessie’s real, I swear it. And you’ll see more bizarre things than her if you spend much time here. We ought to go and visit old Maggie’s cottage sometime,” he added with a gleam in his eye. “You’ll see some wild things there.”
“I don’t doubt it,” she said with a grin. “Oh — but that does remind me. Speaking of seeing strange things… on the beach earlier, I saw something a little worrying, but I didn’t want Eamon to spot it, so I didn’t bring it up.”
“Aye? What’s that?”
“Where you found me — did you see those two rafts, washed up on the shore?”
He frowned. “I think most of my attention was on Eamon. Rafts, you say? Was anyone sailing them?”
“No, which was what I thought was odd. Then I got a closer look at one, and I saw that it was covered in blood. Is that — normal? Like — from gutting fish, or something?”
There was an alarmed look on Niall’s face as he considered what she’d told him. “Certainly not. I can’t imagine any reason a fishing boat would have blood on it, short of a horrible accident. There was nobody about who seemed to own the rafts?”
“Nobody,” she said, frowning. “It — it was quite a lot of blood. Not the kind of thing you’d associate with a little cut or something. If it came from a human, it would have been a near-fatal wound.”
“How do you know?”
She hesitated, not sure how much of her life back home would translate to this new place. “It used to be my job,” she said carefully. “Or at least, a part of my job… I was trained to analyze crime scenes. So I know what kinds of bloodstains to worry about.”
“This is your work as an investigator? You investigate — murder?”
“Among other things, yes. I mean, I used to. These days I mostly investigate whether or not people’s spouses are cheating on them.” She sighed. “But that was a pretty serious bloodstain, that’s what I’m saying.”
“I’ll certainly look into it,” Niall said solemnly. “Ask around, see if anyone’s lost a fishing raft recently. Or if anyone’s lost track of anyone they know.”
That was a sobering thought. She thought of the Loch at night, dark and cold, monsters lurking in the deep…
“It couldn’t have been…”
“Been what?”
“I mean, if there’s a monster in the Loch…”
“No,” Niall said firmly. “No, Nessie’s on our side, Helen. I promise. Not that she couldn’t do a lot of damage to a human if she wanted to… but the only people she’d hurt would be our enemies. I’ll ask around.” He smiled across the table at her, rising to his feet to carry their plates into the kitchen. “And don’t you go worrying about Nessie, alright? She’s a friendly old girl. Maybe Maggie will introduce you.”
“You couldn’t introduce me yourself?”
“No, unfortunately, as I said earlier, I’ve only seen her once. She and I aren’t exactly on speaking terms — but that’s not unusual. It’s only Maggie that the Monster really talks to.” He shrugged. “Though I have heard she has a soft spot for women who travelled here through time. Most of the others say that she had something to do with getting them out of the Loch unharmed.”
“Oh? Does that make you my monster?” she teased him, a grin spreading across her face.
He shrugged, laughing. “I suppose so. Although as I understand it, the aid the Monster offered had more to do with getting them to the surface than getting them from the surface to land.”
“You never did tell me the details of my daring rescue.”
“It wasn’t so daring, if I’m honest.” He was leaning back in his chair, clearly pleasantly relaxed around her — that made her feel warm, somehow, to just be sitting here in this comfortable dining room, chatting with this handsome man as though they were old friends. “I was halfway across the Loch on my way home from visiting some of the more isolated fishermen on the other side of the Loch, dropping off supplies and the like, when I spotted a curious shape on the water. Close to sunset, it was, so I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me.”
“No such luck,” Helen said thoughtfully, picturing the scene… the sunset, the bobbing water, her own body floating in the waves… a shiver ran down her spine. “Was I just — in the water?”
“You were clinging to a piece of wood,” he said, looking a little solemn. “You looked half drowned and half dead, but it was clear you were still alive from the determination in your face as you clung to that old piece of shipwreck. I pulled the ketch alongside and brought you in — almost couldn’t pry you off the piece of old wood you were clutching. It probably saved your life, that old piece of timber.”
“Interesting,” she said softly. “I have absolutely no memory of any of that.”
“None at all? I’m not surprised,” he said, shrugging. “You weren’t in an especially good state. You kept trying to speak, but coughing was all you could manage.”
She winced, thinking of how sore her throat had been, of how much water she must have inhaled. “How did I get here? From — from West Virginia, I mean, to the middle of the Loch. Did I drop out of the sky, or —”
“The Burgh’s at the bottom of the Loch,” Niall explained, leaning forward a little. “Deep underwater, a few hundred yards away from the Keep. I haven’t seen it myself, but it’s the business of Clan Grant to keep an eye on that Burgh.”
“What’s a Burgh? Like — like a village?”
“No. It’s … well, I suppose the best term for it is a gate. A kind of passageway between our world and the world of the Sidhe. Nobody truly understands how it works, but we know that anyone who comes through from the Fae comes through that Burgh. Which explains why every single time-stranded stranger who’s come to our doors has come soaking wet.” He chuckled. “Though I think you had the roughest trip of all of them. The rest can usually remember their trip a little.”
“All I remember is the crash, then some strange lights, then waking up in your guest bedroom,” she said softly.
“Well, you didn’t miss much.” That smile — that reassuring smile that felt like it lit up her whole heart. “And for what it’s worth, Helen Washington, I’m glad you’re here.”
And in that moment, homesick and reeling as she might have been, there was nowhere, and no time Helen would have preferred to be than right there at Niall’s table.
Chapter 13
They talked and laughed for what felt like seconds —
but as Eamon made a bleary-eyed appearance at his door, she realized with a start that they’d been talking for hours. Niall, too, was taken aback by how quickly the time had passed — he got up hastily and scooped Eamon into his arms, muttering something about having a meeting that afternoon with the Laird of the castle. Helen hesitated — she didn’t know this man especially well — but to her, it seemed that having a rambunctious four-year-old in tow for an important meeting was less than ideal.
“Niall — you could leave Eamon with me, if you’d like.”
He turned to her, his eyes widening — she could tell from the look on his face that it was a desirable prospect, being able to go to his meeting unencumbered. But he still hesitated. “Are you sure? You’re still unwell —”
“I’ll look after her,” Eamon said imperiously, wiggling out of his father’s arms and running over to bury his face in the skirts of Helen’s gown.
She smiled, a little taken aback by the affection the little boy was showing her — a surprise his father clearly shared.
“We’ll both be very good and stay inside, won’t we, Eamon?” Helen said brightly, tousling the boy’s hair.
He nodded into her skirts, and Niall chuckled.
“Honestly, Niall, it would be my pleasure to babysit. It would be the least I could do after all you’ve done for me.”
“Not a baby,” Eamon said, his voice muffled.
“Grownup sit, then,” she said, rolling her eyes.
That drew a laugh from Niall. “Well, if you honestly don’t mind,” he said hesitantly. “I’ll only be gone an hour or so —”
“Go, go,” she said, flapping her hands at him. “Eamon and I have things to be getting on with.”
“Yeah, Da!” the boy crowed, latching onto the opportunity to be rude to his father as all small children so loved to do. “Get out of here!”
Laughing, Niall left them to it. She smiled at Eamon as he trotted off to fetch his toys to show her, feeling a little surprised at herself. She’d never been much of a kid person, not since she’d grown up — as a young girl, her younger brothers were more of an imposition than anything, and she’d often dreamed of being an only child. But as an adult… well, there was something charmingly straightforward about Eamon. And she was a lot less anxious about looking after him than she’d expected herself to be.
They passed a pleasant afternoon playing with his toys together — he told her endless stories, most of them sounding like absolutely riotous lies, but she couldn’t help but think of what Niall had said about the Loch Ness Monster being real and wonder whether his stories of goblins and Glashtyns and Redcaps could have a hint of truth to them. Old Maggie seemed to feature as a prominent figure in several of his stories — he seemed to have a great deal of respect for her, while being utterly mystified as to what her powers actually were. In one story she was the villain, in another the hero’s close friend, in a third she appeared at the last minute to save the hero from dying from a fatal wound… she was a busy woman in these stories of Eamon’s, Helen thought with a chuckle.
Niall returned close to nightfall, a smile on his face and a mysterious parcel bundled under his arm. Eamon, razor-sharp, locked onto it and was at his father’s side immediately, reaching up and grabbing at it, full of questions about what was inside. But Niall, ever stoic, refused to reveal the parcel’s contents until after they’d eaten dinner — at which point he revealed three enormous pastries, sweet-smelling and spicy, with what looked like fruit buried at their centers. Despite the delicious dinner, Helen could feel her mouth watering. What had her father always said? There was always room for dessert, because dessert went in a special separate stomach… she grinned to herself as Eamon tore into his own pastry. They were clearly a favorite.
“Blair up at the castle makes these herself,” Niall explained, his mouth full of pastry. “They’re utter witchcraft. No idea how she does it — nor do I care, so long as I get to eat them.”
“They’re delicious,” she agreed, slowing down to savor hers as much as possible. “Blair, did you say? Is she … is she a real witch?”
“Yes!” Eamon said immediately, and Niall laughed.
“No, no. Well, not that I know of. There’s not quite that much magic about,” he said, eyes twinkling. “Old Maggie has her ways, true, and Maeve has a few stories from the old days that would raise your eyebrows, but for the most part we’re regular human beings around here.”
“Also the Monster,” Eamon pointed out, spraying pastry crumbs. “She’s not a human.”
“Aye, well, she’s special, too. Like Maggie.”
“Like you?” Eamon said, his sharp eyes suddenly on Helen. “Are you magic?”
“I don’t think so,” Helen said, but Eamon didn’t seem willing to be dissuaded that easily.
“You sure? You seem magic. Came out of nowhere, got drowned in the Lake but didn’t die…”
Helen realized they were straying close to the top of Eamon’s mother again. But Niall was there to rescue the conversation.
“Helen’s not magic. But the Sidhe are,” he said softly. “The Sidhe decided that Helen wasn’t safe where she was, so they took her away from there and brought her here to us.”
“That’s why you talk funny?”
“That’s rude, Eamon,” Niall said, shooting her an apologetic look. “People from other places talk a little different, that’s all.”
“Like Mam,” he said brightly, and Niall tensed up.
“Aye, son. Like Mam.”
“I think the Sidhe took her, too,” Eamon said thoughtfully. “Maybe if I ask nicely, they’ll take me to visit her. D’ye think so, Helen?”
Helen bit her lip. What was she supposed to say to that? By Niall’s account, his wife was dead, not just missing… and as much as she didn’t want to make the boy sad, she also didn’t want to give him false hope. Thankfully, Niall was there — he scooped Eamon into his arms and carried him off to bed, loudly discussing what a big day they had the next day when the boy protested.
“Thanks for that,” she said softly when he returned. “I wasn’t quite sure what to say.”
“Aye, me neither,” Niall sighed. “It’s a hard age. But I’m glad he’s talking about her.”
“I’d best get off to bed too, I think,” Helen said, feeling a yawn threaten. “Thank you for a lovely meal.”
“And thank you for minding my unholy terror of a son so I could get some work done,” Niall said, smiling that magnetic smile of his at her from across the table. “Sleep well, Helen.”
Once she was in her bedroom by herself, she took a moment to catch her breath. Like it or not, this crush on Niall was getting worse by the minute. How could she help it? He was tall, gorgeous, handsome, kind, good-looking, caring, stunning, thoughtful, attractive… and had she mentioned how easy he was on the eye? But it was completely out of the question. She barely knew him… and besides, she had no idea how courtship worked in the sixteenth century. If she was honest, she had no idea how it worked in the twenty-first century, either. He seemed to like her, that was true — the smiles he gave her, the easy, comfortable time they spent together… but wasn’t he just being friendly? And even if he wasn’t… no, she told herself firmly. It wasn’t an option. This would just have to be one more of those unrequited crushes that she nursed in secret for years on end before they finally faded away. God, what a tragic romantic history she had.
Best to focus on the positives, she told herself firmly as she extracted herself from the gown. To her surprise, it had been pretty comfortable once she’d gotten used to it — difficult to get on and off, but once it was on she’d forgotten about it. And it had done a good job of keeping her warm, too — she shivered a little in the cool night air as she hurried into bed, biting her lip as she shivered in the cold of the sheets, waiting for her body to warm up. But it wasn’t long until the bed was cozy again, and she turned her mind to the next day, full of enthusiasm for all of the things she had to explore. She was going to brave
the stairs, she’d decided — she’d climb up and explore the castle, see what there was to be seen up there. Maybe go and visit with all the other time-stranded women now that she wasn’t utterly delirious and miserable from her illness… she had a suspicion that she was going to make some good friends among that group.
But before she could think too much more about any of that, she was plunged into a deep, restful sleep. It was disturbed a little by dreams in which dancing, glowing figures blurred in and out of her vision, their long, slender arms pointing toward a dark shape in the distance she could barely make out. She swam closer and closer (the water around her was as warm and comforting as her bed) before she realized with a start that what she was swimming toward was the bloodstained raft… and this time, it wasn’t just bloodstained. Blood was pouring off it in great waves, and she realized to her horror that what she was swimming in wasn’t water… it was blood…
Chapter 14
And then she sat bolt upright in bed, breathing hard, staring out the window at the just-lightening sky as her pulse raced frantically. What a deeply awful dream. She hadn’t had a nightmare that bad since… well, probably since she was a kid and her brothers had insisted she watch horror movies with them (they’d all had worse nightmares than her, of course, which she felt served them right.) What a strange dream. Probably stress-related, she thought to herself, trying to settle her heartbeat… but it was no use. Now that she was awake, she was awake. She got out of bed, shivering a little in the cool air, and set about putting her gown on again, wondering whether anyone would mind her wearing the same outfit two days in a row. It wasn’t as if it was dirty — the undergarments she’d been given protected it from the worst of her sweat, and she could imagine wearing the same gown for several weeks straight without too many problems from a hygiene perspective. Hadn’t medieval people always been dirty? Nobody she’d met had seemed dirty. Perhaps that was a misconception. Well, she’d take it.
Needed By The Highlander: A Scottish Time Travel Romance (Highlander Forever Book 5) Page 8