Needed By The Highlander: A Scottish Time Travel Romance (Highlander Forever Book 5)

by Rebecca Preston

  “Did they see its teeth? Did it have sharp teeth?”

  “Not that they mentioned, but I didn’t hear it straight from them.”

  Niall was delighted with the concrete evidence that it was Kelpies they were dealing with. He and Helen celebrated that night with another bottle of wine — she still wasn’t brave enough to bring up the kiss, but she thought about it, especially when he pulled her into his arms and danced a wild jig around the room with her, making Eamon giggle and laugh. He was still sulky, but since their chat outside the dining hall the other night he was certainly behaving himself a little better, and for that she — and Niall — were both grateful.

  Two nights later, a guard came back with an even more dramatic story — and this one had blood on his spear, dark and black. It seemed he’d been caught off guard by two Kelpies, who’d waited until he separated from the group of guards and then crept up on him. His iron spear had saved him — he’d used it to drive one away, and the other — bolder than the first — he’d had to impale. According to the guard, the horse-like creature had let out a shriek that reminded him more of a cat than a horse, and its flesh had hissed and bubbled under the touch of the iron. The black blood on the iron spear supported his story — as did the detail that when the horse had opened its jaws to scream, he’d seen sharp, serrated teeth in its mouth. And those black eyes, flashing red with anger.

  “Maggie said they could speak,” Helen said thoughtfully as she and Niall dined together, discussing the latest developments in the case of the Kelpies. “Do you think if we captured one, we could speak to it? Figure out what it wants and find some way to strike a bargain?”

  “Not likely,” Niall said dismissively. “What they want is to eat human flesh. There’s no bargain that we can strike with creatures like that, no matter how hard we try. And just because they’re intelligent enough to speak, doesn’t mean we should risk it. You remember Darter and Maggie’s lessons to you about speaking to Fae?”

  She nodded, a prickle of guilt running down her back at having forgotten. “That’s right. They have… word powers. Promises and bargains, that kind of thing…”

  “Aye, that’s right. Never strike a deal with a Fae, even if it sounds too good to be true. Especially if sounds too good to be true. Because it always is.”

  She sighed, biting her lip. “It’s just… my training was always to find a diplomatic solution, if possible. To exhaust all the options offered by diplomacy, by talking, by manipulation if necessary…”

  “And I’m sure that’s the best course of action when it comes to human beings,” Niall said softly, his eyes serious. “Please don’t think that I’m underestimating your skill in this area, Helen. If these were roving bands of mercenaries, or robbers, I’d certainly be interested in trying a diplomatic solution. But when it comes to the Unseelie Fae, and especially to creatures as given to cruelty and trickery as these… it’s simply not an option. I’m sorry.”

  She nodded, her jaw set. “I suppose I’d better talk to Anna about those knife-fighting lessons if I’m going to be of any use at all.”

  He laughed, his eyes crinkling. “Aye, I don’t doubt you’ll pick it up quickly. But I’d challenge the idea that you’ve not already been of enormous help to this investigation, Helen. Without you, I don’t know where we’d be on all this. I certainly wouldn’t have thought to check the shoreline so closely. I’d have given it a brief glance and been done with it — and we’d never have found that disturbed bush, or those prints.”

  She chuckled. “You’d have had a man-look, you mean?” He looked mystified, and she giggled. “A man look. My auntie’s phrase. Whenever my brothers lost something, she’d ask if they’d had a proper look or a man look… then she’d sweep in and find whatever they were looking for right there in plain sight.”

  They laughed about that for a long time. Her friendship with Niall was one of her favorite parts of this strange, often frightening place, she reflected that night, smiling in the dark at the memory of their laughter. He made her feel so warm, so safe, so… cared for. They hadn’t revisited the subject of the kiss, though even she wasn’t blind to the lingering looks they sometimes shared when conversation lapsed for a minute or two… but she supposed in the grand scheme of things that was for the best. Honestly, she was just happy to enjoy his company. No agenda, no impatience for anything more… although the way her body responded to his presence, to the lightest touch of his hand, was getting a little embarrassing.

  A week went past. Guards continued to report sightings of the Kelpies, though there were no more direct encounters — it seemed the creatures had learned that the men who circled the Loch at night were armed with iron and fire and were keeping their distance. Still, Brendan insisted his men travel in pairs, for all that it did prevent them from covering as much of the lake shore as they could have if they’d patrolled alone. It wasn’t worth the risk of losing another guard. For Helen, who’d spent a lot of long nights thinking about those hoofprints on the shore and the drag marks that told a grim story of what had happened there, that was the best option.

  But they were worried about the villagers. Not much news was reaching them about what was going on over there — Donal was sending messengers to check every morning on whether any more disappearances had come to light, but they came back reporting a thoroughly surly response from the villagers. Donal was worried that more disappearances were happening, but the villagers didn’t trust the castle folk enough to share the information… though Niall said that from what he could tell from the fishermen, nobody had disappeared since the castle had taken action.

  “The guard patrols are helping,” he said to the men at dinner one night. He and Helen were dining with the Laird, his tanist and their wives — discussion, as it always did, had turned to the Kelpie threat and how it was progressing. “We haven’t lost any fishermen since the first group, and while they’re still chafing about the reduced productivity of not being able to set sail before dawn, at least they’re all alive to chafe about it.”

  Donal nodded, but Brendan looked worried. “Aye, the patrols are helping, but it’s not sustainable to keep operating at this level. My men are pulling longer shifts than they ought to be to cover the patrols, and I’ve borrowed half of Blair’s kitchen staff, so if a Kelpie doesn’t get me first, my death will be at the Headwoman’s hands.”

  Helen couldn’t help but stifle a giggle at that. Blair had been short-staffed in the kitchens for a while, and it was clear from the look on her face as she presided over the busy operation that she wasn’t particularly thrilled about it. But there was no serious worry in Brendan’s voice. They all trusted the taciturn Headwoman to do what needed to be done when the safety of the castle and the village were at stake.

  “I’m worried about the villagers,” Malcolm said now, frowning. “I’m worried they don’t fully understand the threat. What happened with that group that were wanting the Monster dead?”

  “Perry and his men? I haven’t heard from them,” Niall said, gritting his teeth. “They’re all fishing still, of course — I see their boats come in regularly — but they’re avoiding me, that’s for certain. I hope they’re not still plotting against the Monster.”

  “Aye, we need her on our side more than ever, from what Maggie told me,” Malcolm said seriously. “It seems she’s doing a great deal to keep the creatures out of the water at night. For now, they’re sticking to nocturnal hours, and only hunting on land. If they had free reign of the Loch, imagine what they could do?”

  Helen shivered, thinking of taking a quiet stroll on the beach only to be confronted by an enormous carnivorous horse lunging out of the water.

  “They wouldn’t be foolish enough to attack her, would they?” Nancy wanted to know. The woman had a special relationship with the Monster, it seemed — she’d told Helen that she’d seen the creature on more than a few occasions, and that she seemed to like her. “Has Maggie warned her that men might want to do her harm?”

 
; “She’s a hard lady to find if she doesn’t want to be found,” Niall said firmly. “I trust that she’ll keep herself safe. That being said — she does love to come around the docks in the morning to snap up any discarded fish from the boats. I’d be worried about the men identifying that pattern…”

  “She’s smarter than that, surely,” Malcolm said, squeezing his wife’s hand reassuringly — Helen grinned a little at the adoring look she shot him. For a couple that had been married a while, the two of them were still so deeply in love that it made her smile. Could I have that? she wondered, deliberately not looking at Niall. Was there a possible future for the two of them where he squeezed her hand reassuringly and she gazed up into his eyes with the same kind of love and care that Nancy was showing to her husband?

  For the hundredth time that day, she put that thought firmly out of her mind. They were in crisis at the moment — there were murderous monsters about, and she owed it to her new community — to the people who’d taken her in — to keep her mind on that problem. Once they were safe from the Kelpie threat, well — then she and Niall could have a conversation about what was possible in their relationship.

  For now, she just had to keep her secret yearning to herself.

  Chapter 33

  A few nights later, they were given the dubious honor of another dinner with Father Caleb, who came riding up from the village especially to dine with them. Niall was exasperated, but Helen was quietly glad that the priest was coming to share news with them. He would have a much better idea of what was going on in the village, what they were doing about the Kelpies… and how they were feeling about the people in the castle.

  She chose her favorite gown for the occasion. That had been an exciting little surprise in the last week — the other time-lost women had gotten together to surprise her with two new gowns.

  “We thought you might be craving a little bit of variety,” Nancy explained, grinning as Helen held a beautiful deep green gown up against her body and gasped. “Wearing the same thing every day…”

  “I never thought I’d be this excited about clothes,” she said faintly, delighted by the gown she was holding up against herself. “Oh, the design’s a little different! Please teach me how to put this one on,” she added plaintively. “The trial and error with the first one nearly killed me.”

  It was remarkable, she thought as she dressed for dinner with Father Caleb and the rest of the men, how quickly she’d grown accustomed to the cumbersome gowns. That first day, she’d barely been able to climb into the thing, but now — she adjusted the bodice with a practiced hand, smiling down at the way the fabric flattered her shape. It was surprising, how quickly brand new things became familiar, almost comfortable. And as she headed up the stairs with Eamon and Niall, she realized that she hadn’t been thinking as much of modern conveniences. The first few days, she’d ached for a hot shower… now, when she felt grimy, the only thing she wanted was a nice hot pail of water to bathe with. She’d missed running water, missed her microwave, missed her cell phone… but the longer she spent without them, the less she felt that they were somehow mandatory, inseparable from who she was as a person.

  And to her surprise, it wasn’t only that she didn’t miss them — she was actively benefitting from their being removed from her life. She felt — clearer, somehow. More present, every day she spent here. As though she was coming into herself — as though she was somehow finding who she was always been meant to be, around all the distractions of modern life. She spent time with people — real time, focused time, not a cup of coffee while they both pretended they weren’t thinking about checking their phones, not half-hurried lunches while everyone was desperate to get back to work. Her conversations with her friends, with Niall, with everyone… they were so much more rewarding than any conversation she’d had back in the future. For the first time in her life, she was beginning to realize why people set such great store by friendships.

  It had only took me thirty years and some Faerie magic, she thought with a little laugh as they headed across the courtyard.

  “What’s funny?” Niall asked, turning back to her with a raised eyebrow. He was looking especially dashing tonight — his hair was freshly trimmed, and he always looked an absolute vision in Clan Grant tartan. She shook her head, not sure how to explain what she was thinking about.

  “Nothing, really. I’m just…” She grinned. “Just happy to be here.”

  An unexpected smile spread over his face, and he reached out to touch her shoulder in that casually affectionate way he had that always sent butterflies shooting around in her stomach. “I’m delighted to hear it, Helen. We’re both happy you’re here, too. Isn’t that right, Eamon?”

  The little boy had been playing with a stick, and he looked up with the habitually guilty expression of a child who hadn’t been paying attention. “What?”

  “Aren’t we both happy Helen’s here?”

  “I guess,” he said brightly, hefting his stick again and taking a few brave stabs at the castle wall.

  Helen laughed at the expression on Niall’s face. “I’ll take it,” she said with a grin. “That’s plenty of affection as far as I’m concerned. Oh! Father Caleb!”

  The priest was hurrying up the stairs, his habitually dour expression hoisted into place on his face, and he looked up with a guilty start when he heard his name. He would have seemed thoroughly suspicious if Helen hadn’t already known what a naturally nervous person he was.

  “Good evening, Miss Washington,” he said with an over-rehearsed little bow. “Harbormaster Grant.”

  He’d done well at remembering their names, Helen thought with a smile. Should she explain to him that she preferred ‘Ms.’ to ‘Miss’? Was that even a concept in the sixteenth century, or did women just tolerate being referred to by whether or not they’d been married yet? It had always irritated her in the twenty-first century, too. She wasn’t a raving feminist by any means, but the injustices visited upon her sex still rankled.

  “How are things in the village, Father Caleb?”

  “As well as can be expected,” he said heavily as they headed into the dining hall, aiming for the high table where Laird Donal and the rest of the men were waiting. “We’ll get to that soon, I’d imagine.”

  Once they were all settled in with a delicious meal, Father Caleb began to make his report. Helen could see how intently Niall was listening — hoping for clues about what his old ‘friend’ Perry was up to, perhaps? She could tell the subject of the man was still weighing on him, for all that he tried to seem like his mind was on the problem alone. It must be awful, feeling so betrayed by someone who was supposed to be your friend. She didn’t fault him at all for obsessing a little.

  “The fishermen are unhappy about their reduced hours of fishing, of course, but I doubt I have to tell you that, Harbormaster,” he said, clearing his throat a little as he glanced up at Niall.

  Niall nodded solemnly, a tightness in his jaw belying the friendly smile he had on his face.

  “Aye, it’s reduced the size of their catches, but better to come home with a smaller catch than not to come home at all.”

  “Indeed, indeed. I’ve been with the widows of the missing men this week,” Father Caleb said heavily — and Helen was oddly touched by the expression of genuine sadness on his face. For all his nervousness and affectation, it was clear that he genuinely cared about his flock. Perhaps in a few years, when he’d grown into himself a little, he’d make a fine priest. He clearly had the makings of greatness in him. “This community takes care of its own — they’ll want for nothing while they find a way forward.”

  “Have there been any more disappearances that you know of?” Donal asked urgently, leaning forward over his meal. “We’ve been sending messengers daily, but you know how secretive the villagers can get when they suspect us at the castle of hiding something from them…”

  “I do, all too well,” the priest said, dabbing at his mouth with a napkin. “For what it’s worth
, I’ve done my best to speak in your favor where I can. But of course, alienating those who still oppose the work of the Sept would do more harm than good, so I’ve been doing my best to tread carefully.”

  Helen tilted her head, thinking about that. There had been a time in her life when she would have scoffed at compromise — the idea of the priest not taking the obviously right side in this conflict would have angered her. But she could see things from his perspective, now — it was much, much better not to alienate men like Perry completely. Otherwise, what hope was there to redeem them?

  “But as far as we can tell,” he continued, “there have been no further disappearances. The villagers have been making more of an effort to stay in regular contact, especially with those who live a good distance from the village’s center, and it seems that we’ve a full complement still.”

  Donal sighed, visibly relieved by this. Niall glance down at Helen, a smile on his face which she returned, fiercely grateful for this news.

  “Have you had trouble with the Kelpies at all?” Malcolm broke in, clearly not satisfied with the simple information that nobody had been killed. “Any sightings, any near misses or injuries?”

  “No sightings — or none that anyone has seen fit to share with me,” Father Caleb said, spreading his hands apologetically. “I’m afraid there’s a good few villagers who still believe there’s no such thing as Kelpies — that the disappearances were caused by the Monster and the Kelpies are just an old wives’ tale designed to stop foolish children climbing on the backs of horses they find.”

  “I wish that were true,” Donal said drily. “Did you receive word of the sightings our guards have had? Multiple encounters, including one in which a Kelpie was wounded.”

  “I did, I did,” Father Caleb said, looking apologetic. “Unfortunately, as you can imagine, when I shared this news a few villagers suggested it was a fabrication. I believe you,” he said hastily. “Laird Donal, you know my history with … with the strange ungodly things you and your brave men keep us safe from. But my flock…”