Outlaw Highlander: A Scottish Time Travel Romance

by Dabney, Blanche

  “I want to help you clear your name.”

  “Then let’s get going before the light fades.”

  She had plenty of time to think while they traveled the long road north.

  Whenever Tavish saw someone appear in the distance he grabbed Lindsey by the hand, pulling her into the bushes until the danger of being spotted had passed.

  He never said what would happen if they were caught but she could guess. Death for the pair of them. The thought terrified her but still, she didn’t suggest turning back. Nor did she tell him not to grab her hand.

  Should she have gone home? Already she was starting to regret her decision. Each mile took her further away from the loch and every step north meant one more step back when they were done.

  The place was dangerous, she could tell by the few villages they risked walking through. Suspicious eyes observed them both as they passed by despite their attempts to disguise their appearance.

  Tavish had provided them with a hooded cloak each. Lindsey tried not to think about where they’d come from. She’d stood outside the tumbledown cottage with its thatched roof rotten and slumped to ground level in places.

  When Tavish pushed open the door she caught a glimpse of a skeletal foot before turning away, trying not to retch from the smell. He came back out a moment later with two cloaks, passing one to her.

  “What happened in there?” She asked.

  He shrugged. “They’re dead, looked like the work of the English tae me.”

  “Dead? Doesn’t anyone care?”

  “Since Margaret died the English dart north and kill any they find on their travels. We need the clans tae come together to stop the slaughter of innocents.”

  “They didn’t get you though.”

  “I ken where to hide. Ah warned them two to run but they wouldnae listen and now they’ve paid the price. Now put the cloak on, we want tae stay hidden.”

  He threw the hood over his head. Lindsey looked down at the heavy dark wool in her hand. There was a hint of the odor of decay drifting from it.

  “I don’t know if I can wear this.”

  He glared from under his cloak. “You wear it.” His voice was dangerously low. “Now let’s move.”

  They continued north with Lindsey wondering if she’d made a mistake in agreeing to this. He was scaring her but she had to admit the cloak was keeping her warm and protecting her modesty better than the length of tartan across her chest.

  It had been stolen from the dead by someone who seemed indifferent to the two bodies he’d encountered, people he’d once known by the sound of it.

  She tried to shut her mind, pulling the hood further over her head. She’d made a decision, there was no point doing that if she was going to back out as soon as the first problem came along.

  She wore her sneakers, but they were coated in mud within half a mile of setting off and soon looked no different to Tavish’s boots.

  Her feet began to ache as she traveled north, the blisters on her feet growing so sore she found herself limping the further the day wore on. She could have been home safe and sound, soaking her feet in hot water.

  She almost laughed. What hot water? The electric had been cut off at the house.

  What was she going back to anyway? Without knowing where the locket was hidden, there didn’t seem much point in going back to her own time.

  She found herself watching Tavish as he marched ahead of her. He was like a machine, never tiring, never pausing for breath. He just kept going. He didn’t even stumble when they passed through a swampy morass of mud, Lindsey falling far behind. The guy was inhuman.

  At last, she had no choice. “Wait,” she said, so far back he was almost out of sight. In the distance “I need to rest.”

  He looked back, his eyebrows raising. “Does no one march in your time?”

  “Not like this,” she replied as he headed back to where she’d stopped. “When people walk in my time, they do it for fun.”

  “For fun?”

  “For pleasure. For recreation, you know?”

  “People walk for enjoyment?” He ran his hand through his hair while shaking his head. “Not to get somewhere?”

  “Well, sometimes. But we have cars and buses too if we want to get somewhere far.” She saw the confused look on his face. “Like carriages but faster.”

  “With more horses, you mean?”

  “Something like that. We can get going again if you like. Just please go a little slower.”

  “Another hour and we’ll stop for the night. There’s a hamlet not far from here. We may be able to scavenge some food there too.”

  “Scavenge? Why scavenge, why not buy?”

  “I have little coin. Do you?”

  “No, but-”

  “Then we find what’s thrown away or we go hungry. Your choice.”

  He started walking again. Had she offended him? It was hard to tell. Apart from that flicker of a smile on the beach, he looked furious all the time, as if he was angry with the whole world.

  She couldn’t blame him, not really. She’d be pretty cross if she’d been accused of a murder she didn’t commit. She tried to think how she’d feel if her mom was locked in prison for trying to defend her.

  The emotion made her neck hurt from tensing her jaw so much. She realized her fists had clenched and had to force them to loosen. If he wanted to look cross, she understood where he was coming from.

  Not for much longer though. They would get to MacIntyre Castle, as long as her feet survived the journey. Then she would get the stone. He could go back to his life and she could go back to hers. Tell mom where he hid the locket, sell it, make a fortune, and finally do up the house.

  She dreamed of carving the banisters, using her whittling skills to create little statues and Celtic symbols, make the place seem like home.

  “Haud up,” Tavish said, raising his arm, fist clenched.

  Lindsey froze, expecting to dive into the bushes yet again.

  “Wait there,” Tavish said, darting off the road and into a copse of trees. She looked but saw nothing. Then a twig snapped and a moment later a straggly looking horse burst out into the open.

  It galloped straight at her but saw her at the last minute, pulling up short and stopping dead. “Whoah,” Tavish said behind it, moving slowly toward it, arms outstretched. “Whoah there, lass.”

  He moved until he was in front of the horse and then began whispering something to it, talking so quietly Lindsey couldn’t make out more than a word or two. He was speaking a language she didn’t understand but the horse did.

  The beast stamped its feet and whinnied loudly but then its ears went up as it listened. Another stamp of its foot but this one less aggressive and accompanied by a slight flick of its tail.

  He continued talking to it and, as he did so, it lowered its head, allowing him to scratch it behind the ears. “That’s it, lass,” he said quietly. “Good girl.” He glanced across at Lindsey. “You can climb on.”

  “You’re not serious?”

  “She willnae hurt you. Not now.”

  Lindsey wasn’t so confident. She took a step forward and the horse’s head jerked in her direction, its nostrils flaring. Another few words from Tavish and it calmed once more, this time looking at her placidly.

  “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she said as she climbed onto a tree stump. “No saddle or anything. You know I’ve only ridden a horse once, don’t you?”

  “Wild horses like wild women.”

  “Are you saying I’m a wild woman?”

  He looked up at her, his expression inscrutable. “Was that a joke?” she asked. “Did you actually make a joke?”

  There it was, that flicker of a smile again. She couldn’t help reciprocating. “I didn’t think you were capable of joking.”

  This close, the horse smelt strongly, Lindsey’s nose wrinkling as she climbed onto its back.

  It didn’t move a muscle. She tensed her legs, expecting the animal to throw her at a
ny moment.

  It felt utterly surreal when, a second later, Tavish began walking again. The horse followed meekly behind like a pet dog, carrying Lindsey on its back without the slightest complaint.

  Once she had gotten over her fear of being thrown, she began to enjoy the ride. Her aching feet were glad of the break from walking. “Thank you,” she said when Tavish stopped to let the horse drink from a stream beside the road.

  “What for? Helping you doon?”

  “For this. For letting me ride her.”

  He shrugged. “It wasnae any bother.”

  “Thank you anyway.”

  They set off again a minute later, stopping when they reached a tiny little settlement nestled in a hidden valley. There were two little cottages to the left of the road separated by a pond. On the right was a broch that had been altered over time, wooden planks added where the stone had crumbled.

  All the buildings were topped by thatch and smoke was curling up through them into the evening sky, the smell reminding Lindsey of the campfires she’d experienced back when her mom was well enough to take her out into the wilderness.

  That was where she first learned about wood carving, those trips together. She examined the carved S in the doorframe of the nearest farmhouse, a crude face had been scored below, marked deep into the wood.

  The face had been painted a long time ago, the colors faded to little more than grays and browns, hard to see in the dying light. How would something like that look on Tavish’s house when she got back?

  “We may find shelter here for the night,” Tavish said, bringing the horse to a stop. He held out a hand to Lindsey and she took it, her tiny fingers swallowed by his massive fist as he effortlessly lifted her from the horse, his hands sliding to grab her waist when she began to fall.

  He set her down on the ground. The feel of his hands on her remained for some time after he stepped back. She shook the feeling away, watching as he slapped the horse on the rear a moment later. “Off you go, lass.”

  Lindsey knew she was imagining it but the neigh the horse gave sounded very much like it understood what Tavish had said. It vanished back the way it came, leaving the two of them alone.

  The sun finally vanished behind the rolling hills in the distance, the land turning shades of red, making it look like the fields were on fire.

  They walked toward the nearest building. From inside they could hear a woman singing. “The Highland lassie waits long for her man. He will nay come this way ever again.”

  “I ken that wee ditty,” Tavish said, putting his ear to the door. “My father used to sing it to me when I was a bairn.”

  He knocked on the door while Lindsey attempted to imagine him as a child. She couldn’t do it no matter how hard she tried.

  The singing stopped and the door scraped open, revealing a woman in her thirties, hair as red as the setting sun. “What do ye want?” she asked, her eyes narrowing.

  Tavish kept his head hidden under his hood as he spoke. “We are pilgrims from the south o’ your land. We seek shelter for the night.”

  “You’ll get none here.”

  “Who is it, Agnes?” a voice shouted from inside.

  “Beggars,” she yelled back. “You keep stirring the broth. Merida’ll be hungry as a bear when she wakes.”

  “We will sleep in yon barn,” Tavish said. “It wasnae a request.”

  The man appeared, a red-headed infant in his arms. “Ye can sleep in the stable if ye be Christians. Heathen English plague these lands and the cattle stopped milking last time they were here.”

  “Ah am indebted tae ye,” Tavish said, clasping his hands together before the woman could contradict her husband.

  “It’s behind the house,” the woman said. “Mind ye dinnae touch anything in there. I ken how many turnips are nestled in the straw.”

  She closed the door a second later. Before they’d taken two steps it opened again and out was thrust a pair of apples without a word. Tavish took them and nodded his thanks to the already closed door.

  “This way,” he said, passing her an apple as he walked around the woodpile to the back of the house. A barn was sticking out of the rear of the building, the sweet smell of straw emanating from inside.

  Two minutes later Lindsey was nestled comfortably in the straw, her eyes sagging almost at once. Her thighs ached from gripping the horse and she was desperate to soak her aching feet.

  She settled for removing her sneakers and socks, lying back on the straw and munching the apple as Tavish looked out the barn door to the countryside beyond.

  Her eyes closed before she knew what was happening. The next thing she knew she was dreaming. She knew it was a dream because she was back home. Mom was asleep in the chair by the tiny little single bar electric heater. It glowed orange but she couldn’t feel the heat from it. That was strange. At least Mom had persuaded them to turn the electricity back on.

  “Where are you?” Rhona asked in her sleep.

  “I’m coming back,” Lindsey replied. Her mom stirred but didn’t open her eyes. “I’ll be home soon, mom.”

  “Are you safe?” Rhona asked, still not opening her eyes.

  “I’m safe. I’m with Tavish Sinclair.”

  “Hmm.” A smile played across Rhona’s face as she twisted in the chair, her legs stretching out toward the fire. “Be careful.”

  “He’s a good man, mom. You were right. He didn’t kill Margaret.”

  The dream began to fade. A mist started to fill the room, coming between her and her mother. “The locket’s coming, Mom. It’s all going to be all right. I promise.” She shouted the last words but by then the dream had faded and she was sitting up in the barn, not sure what was real and what wasn’t.

  She turned for comfort from Tavish but he wasn’t there. She looked around in a panic. Had he left her alone? She had no clue how to get back to the loch on her own. “Tavish?” she called out. “Where are you?”

  The door to the barn swung open and he appeared. “What’s wrong? Are ye all right?”

  “Oh, Tavish. I thought you’d gone. I was so scared.”

  “I went tae fetch some breakfast. Here, carrots.”

  “Oh,” she said, already feeling embarrassed by how worried she’d been. “Thank you.”

  It was some time before her heart had slowed sufficiently for her to feel hungry. As she nibbled on the end of the carrot, Tavish went again without a word, this time coming back with a jug of water and a horn mug. “Drink,” he said. “We’ve a long walk ahead of us today.”

  “Great,” she said, rubbing her feet. “More walking.”

  He frowned as he glanced down. “You’re bleeding. Why did ye nae say so?”

  “It’s nothing. I’m just not used to so much walking.”

  “Wait there.”

  For the third time, he vanished. This time he was gone for a while. Lindsey drank a mugful of water and finished the carrot, finding a hidden spot far away from the barn to use the bathroom while he was gone. When he finally came back, he found her washing her face with the last of the water.

  “Sit doon,” he said, pointing to the straw.

  “What’s that in your hand?”

  “You’ll see. Take them stockings off.”

  “They’re called socks.”

  “Whatever they are, get them off.”

  She did as he asked. He took some of the leaves he’d gathered and dipped them in the remains of the water. Mashing them into a ball he added the rest until the water was no more than a pile of green mush.

  “Lift your leg ontae my lap,” he said, sitting opposite her.

  He took hold of her ankle, working the mash into the worst of her blisters. Almost at once the pain began to subside. Lindsey sighed, the relief palpable as he continued to work the rest of the poultice into her foot. “Now put your sock over it,” he said, swapping to her other foot after she’d done as he asked.

  “What is that?” she asked.

  “Is it helping?”

>   “It’s wonderful.”

  “A few decent leaves can ease the ache o’ many things,” he replied. “How do ye feel?”

  “Much better, thank you.” She pulled her sock up as he got to his feet.

  She sat still for a moment, watching as he carried the water outside. An odd question entered her mind from nowhere. What if I stay?

  She shook her head. That wasn’t something she should waste any time contemplating. Yes, he was handsome. She’d got her first close look at him while he’d eased the pain in her feet. Those dark eyes that smoldered whenever he glanced up at her, that jaw that looked as if it could take an ax blow with no damage other than the weapon snapping in half.

  Yes, behind his gruff exterior there lay hid a gentleman. The touch of his hands on her feet would have told her that if she hadn’t already worked it out.

  None of it mattered though. What mattered was that her mom still needed her. It might have been a dream but the sight of her mom sitting alone by the fire tugged at her heart. She needed to focus on hiding the locket somewhere they could find it in the future. Help him get the stone back and he’d be grateful enough to do that in return, she was sure of it.

  She had to focus, not get distracted by how good he looked framed in the doorway by the morning sun. She got to her feet, hoping to leave all those thoughts behind her in the barn. “Shall we get going?”

  “Aye, lass. And look who came back.”

  The horse appeared next to him, nudging its nose under his arm, sniffing out the carrot in his hand. “All right, lass,” he said with a smile. “I see you’re no tired of our company yet. Or is it just ye want some breakfast as well.”

  It took seconds for the horse to demolish the carrot and then it stood ready and waiting. Tavish held out a hand. “Shall ah lift ye onto her back?”

  “You should ride. I’ll walk. I rode yesterday.”

  “Your feet are hurting. Ahm used to marching.”

  “They’re not hurting now. I don’t mind walking. You should ride. You tamed the thing.”

  “Ahm no arguing. You ride.”

  “This is stupid.”

  “Aye, it is. If it’ll stop your blether we’ll both ride.”