Highlander’s Curse

by Melissa Mayhue

  It was the best he could think of. It was his only hope.

  Thirty-six

  Of course I’m sure this is where we left him. How many places do you think there are with dead bodies lying around opened up like a can of beans?” Abby held her arms tightly around her middle, trying her best to glare at the two men on the ground.

  It wasn’t her fault Colin wasn’t lying in the middle of the road where she’d seen him last. In fact, she was thrilled he wasn’t there. Certainly no one had come along and moved him, or they’d have moved the hideous, disfigured body that lay at her horse’s feet.

  No, his not being there meant only one thing.

  “He’s alive. He must be.”

  Though the dark pool of blood where he had lain did give her pause to worry.

  “For a fact he lives, my lady. That’s no ever been in question. We only need to find where he’s gotten off to.”

  Simeon looked around, rubbing his hands together in a way that made Abby think of some cartoon detective.

  “This way,” Dair called from farther back in the trees. “He came back through here.”

  Simeon pulled on her reins, leading the horse she sat astride as well as his own. Each pounding tread of the horse’s foot sent another stabbing pain through her chest, but she panted through it, clamping her arms tightly around herself. She couldn’t allow them to stop their search for Colin because of her.

  “Looks like he found a horse wandering here. He’s no longer afoot.” Dair squatted by small, swift-moving stream. The orange rays of the rising sun formed a glowing backdrop behind him as he scanned the area.

  “Mounted. Where would he go, do you suppose? He’s bound to be half-crazed with worry over this one, aye?” Simeon jerked his head in her direction. “And we’ve no doubt he dinna come in our direction, for a fact.”

  Oh, that was classic. More guilt. Just what she needed.

  “Drew’s, do you think? MacQuarrie Keep is within a hard day’s ride. That would give him a place to recover and decide what to do next. It’s no like he’d have any way of knowing who had taken her, so he’d no have a direction to head.”

  She had to tell them. The more they knew, the better their chances were of finding Colin. Though whether they’d believe her fantastic tale was anyone’s guess.

  “He might have more of an idea than you think.” He had known who would be waiting for his king’s army, after all. “I probably can’t explain all of this well enough to make it make sense. I’m not even sure it makes sense to me, but you need to believe me when I tell you Colin knew where to look for you because he knew what would happen after Methven. He already knew the laird of the MacDougalls would be waiting in ambush for your army as you tried to make your escape.”

  One side of Dair’s face quirked up in a grin and he shook his head. “You’ve no a need to explain that which canna be explained, lass. It’s clear the Fae have had a hand in this.”

  “How do you know about—”

  He stopped her, his hand held up like a crossing guard’s. “I’ve seen their work in this family often enough. Besides, there’s naught else to explain Col’s disappearing in a burst of color one day and his showing up a fortnight later, with a wife, no less. That smells of Fae if ever I smelled them.”

  Beside her, Simeon climbed into his saddle. “That’s it, then. He’s no fool enough to attempt Dunstaffnage on his own. He’d want men at his side, especially if he calculates his odds. I say we’ll find him at MacQuarrie Keep, petitioning Drew for aid to march on the MacDougall.”

  They thought he intended to gather an army and go to war? Over her? “No! You can’t let him do that.”

  “Dinna fash yerself over it, my lady.” Simeon’s smile was as bright as the morning sun. “He’ll have no need for such once we deliver you safely to him.”

  A hard day’s ride, Simeon had said. Abby tried for a deep breath to calm herself, but settled for a series of short, panting intakes when the pain was too much.

  Apparently her discomfort wasn’t as easy to hide in the daylight as it had been in the dark.

  “We’ll have to do something about her, aye? She canna travel like that.” Again Simeon jerked his head in her direction.

  “Aye,” Dair answered, rising to his feet and lifting his arms to her as he approached. “Off of there with you, lassie.”

  A bolt of panic speared through her. They were going to leave her behind? She tried to ignore the fear when Dair lifted her down from the saddle, concentrating instead on the pain.

  “You’re right. It’s for the best,” she managed between gasps for air. “I’d only slow you down and you have to get to Colin to stop him from getting himself killed.”

  “For the best?” Dair echoed. “What? You think we’d leave you behind? Yer daft!”

  “It’s no her fault.” Simeon shrugged his shoulders. “She’s no ever seen a MacAlister in the defense of his woman as we have.”

  Once she was on her feet, Dair leaned over and caught up the hem of her overdress. With a “pardon me, my lady,” he proceeded to rip a good foot off the bottom.

  “It feels to me as though yer ribs are broken. We’ll have to bind them or you’ll no be able to bear the ride. It needs to be tight, you ken? Up against yer skin.”

  “Fine. Whatever will help.” Abby did her best to lift her arms, not very successfully.

  Behind her, Simeon coughed. “That’s no quite his meaning, my lady.”

  “Not his meaning . . . oh, crap.” Against the skin, he’d said. Over her dress, and the binding would twist and slide, useless. Too bad she hadn’t landed in Scotland a few hundred years down the road when every lady’s stylish longer bodice would have served as a rib binding on its own. “Then you’re going to have to help me. I can’t get these things off by myself.”

  “We’ll just lift them, aye? Sim, yer assistance?”

  Simeon was at her side in an instant, gathering her skirts and lifting them up around her face. Dair placed the band of cloth against her ribs and began to wind, pulling it tight. He finished by tearing off another strip of cloth and tying it over the binding to hold it tight.

  “There. That should help.”

  Simeon dropped her skirts, fluffing them into place, his face a mottled pink. “A reminder, my lady. Just as you’ve promised no to share with yer husband the details of Dair’s adventure in retrieving yer wee knife last night, I’d take it as a personal boon if you’d keep this moment just between us, as well, aye?”

  Whether Simeon was actually worried about Colin’s reaction or simply trying to ease her tension, she didn’t care. It worked.

  Getting back on the horse was pretty much as painful as before, but once she was settled, she found, amazingly enough, the binding actually did help a little. She was still forced to take only short, shallow breaths, but at least it no longer felt as if razors slashed into her with every move.

  Dair fixed one arm around her middle, pulling her back up tightly against his chest, and they were off, their horses pounding across the ground as if another wildfire chased them.

  Within seconds Abby knew if she could last out this day, she’d be able to do anything. And anything was what she’d sworn she was willing to do to keep Colin from riding off to get himself killed.

  Thirty-seven

  It’s no far now.”

  If Abby didn’t hurt so bad, Dair’s words might have made her smile, wondering if his not so far was anything like Colin’s.

  As it was, the best she could manage was catching her next breath without passing out.

  “Halt!”

  Dair and Simeon both pulled their mounts to a stop as two men moved out of the forest to block the road ahead of them.

  “No,” she managed between pants. It couldn’t be. She blinked slowly, struggling to focus on the men ahead.

  What couldn’t be, was.

  Jonathan Flynn sat on one of the horses, his gun pointed directly at them.

  “Abigail, dearest,” he called
. “I’ve found you at last. And with new friends.”

  How wrong was this? She’d traveled seven hundred years to escape staring down the barrel of that bastard’s gun, suffered more than she ever had in her whole life, and how was she ending up? Staring down the barrel of the bastard’s gun. Again.

  “You ken who this man is, do you?” Dair asked.

  “Yes. He has a gun. Don’t do anything stupid.”

  “Gun?” Next to her, Simeon snorted. “That wee bit’s hardly bigger than the knife you had stuffed down yer front, my lady. It’s of no consequence.”

  They didn’t know about guns. They didn’t understand the danger they were in.

  “Not big,” she panted. “Bad. Very bad. Trust me.”

  “You’ll climb down off that man’s horse now, Abigail, and join me over here. Otherwise, I’ll have no choice but to start eliminating your new friends.”

  “The lady stays where she is,” Dair growled.

  “Wait.” She remembered all too well what Jonathan was capable of when he started carrying on about not having any choices. “You don’t know what he can do.”

  “I say we show him and that wee gun of his what we can do, aye?” Simeon grinned and kneed his horse forward.

  “No!” Her warning was too late.

  With a loud crack, Jonathan fired his weapon and Simeon jerked back. Disbelief colored his face just before he doubled over and slid from his mount, crumpled on the ground.

  “What in the name of the saints . . .” Dair’s arm tightened around her waist.

  “On second thought, Abigail, you stay on the horse. Tell your friend he needs to get off so you can join me.”

  “I canna allow—”

  There was no point in letting him continue. “Get off. Now.” She wouldn’t be the cause of another man’s getting shot. “Find Colin. Stop him. Keep him safe.”

  As soon as Dair dismounted, Abby pulled on the reins, encouraging her horse toward Jonathan. When she reached his side, he took the reins from her hands, leading her horse as he headed back into the forest.

  “You’ve no seen the last of me!” Dair called out from behind them. “I’ll hunt you down.”

  Ahead of her, Jonathan chuckled. “I doubt that. Not unless he has his own little time-traveling woman, eh, Abigail? Not once you whisk us back home where we belong.”

  That was what he expected? If she could just catch her breath, she’d laugh. Or cry.

  If that’s really what he expected, they were both in a lot of trouble.

  Thirty-eight

  You said it yerself, Colin, the MacDougall has over a thousand men. Be reasonable. We’ve perhaps fifty here at best, and that’s if we include Hugh and old Walter.”

  Colin stared into his food, doing his best to ignore the logic of Andrew’s argument. He wanted nothing to do with logic at this moment. He wanted only to storm Dunstaffnage and rescue Abby. The thought of her being held captive in a time and place not her own was more than he could tolerate.

  “Abby is my wife, Drew. My Soulmate. I canna leave her there.”

  Drew rose from his spot at the table and moved to kneel beside his brother, placing a hand on his shoulder.

  “Believe me, Col, I ken the depth of yer feeling. We’ve already sent a messenger to Dun Ard. We’ll gather the men we need. You must be patient.”

  “I’ve no taste for patience!” he yelled, banging his fist against the table. He knew it was a childish, petulant act that would serve to accomplish nothing, but his anger was all he had left standing between him and total despair.

  “Sit down and calm yourself, or you’ll bust that wound open again.” Drew’s wife, Leah, marched toward him, her expression clearly brooking no argument. “Lean over here and let me have a look at—”

  “Dinnna touch it!” both he and Drew cautioned at the same time.

  Leah’s exasperated sigh expressed her irritation every bit as much as the exaggerated roll of her eyes. “How about you give me credit for a smattering of good sense, yes? I have absolutely no intention of touching this wound. I only want to see for myself that he’s healing properly.”

  His sister-in-law’s touch carried with it the ability to heal, but she paid a heavy price for the use of her gift. What she healed, she took upon herself for a time. Neither he nor her husband wanted to see her go through that process.

  “My head is fine. The wound will heal in time.”

  “Your head is hard, that’s what it is,” she countered, taking her seat next to her husband’s chair. “As you say, it will heal on its own. Unless you bust it open having one of your temper tantrums.”

  Drew patted his shoulder again before returning to sit next to his wife. “I ken yer need to do something, Col. But realize, there is a safer way. Safer for you and safer for yer lady. Blane will likely arrange an emissary from the MacKiernan to the MacDougall to negotiate for yer Abby’s release. Once we hear word of—”

  “Begging yer pardon, laird Drew.” A small boy ran into the great hall, stopping only when he reached the table across from Drew. “The wall guard asked that you come down. We’ve riders asking access to the keep. They say they’re kinsmen of yers. Two men, but one is injured.”

  Colin was out of his seat and halfway to the entry door before the boy had finished speaking. It could be anyone. He had no reason to believe it was Dair and Simeon.

  No reason but blind faith in the power of the Fae.

  Drew was close on his heels as he hit the steps leading to the wall walk. He practically flew up the narrow spiral stairs, bursting through the door and not slowing until he could peer over the wall.

  “Dair!” He recognized his kinsmen immediately.

  “Thanks be to each and every one of the saints,” Dair called back. “Let us in. Sim needs attention, and I’ve news of yer wife.”

  Colin took no note of the stairs he skipped over in his rush to get down from the wall walk. He threw himself headlong into the race, stooping to clamber under the rising gates to meet the horses inside the gate wall.

  “Where is she?” He grabbed the reins that had fallen from Simeon’s hand, noticing for the first time the blood soaking the other man’s shoulder.

  “Perhaps an hour’s ride from here. We were bringing her to you when she was taken from us.”

  They’d reached the stairs, and others crowded around now, hands reaching up to help Simeon from his mount even as Dair swung his leg over his horse and turned to face Colin.

  “Taken by whom?”

  Dair shook his head, his mouth drawn in a hard line. “I dinna ken the bastard’s name, but he was no a stranger to her. He did that to Simeon with some wee weapon he carried. Yer lady called it a gun.”

  “Flynn.” Colin spat the name, cursing the very air the filthy Nuadian breathed. “Can you take me there?”

  “Oh, aye, I can. I’ve only the need of a fresh horse and a good sword.” Dair laid a hand on his shoulder, none of his usual humor in evidence. “But I must warn you, Colin, she’s been hurt.”

  Colin’s stomach knotted. “What happened?”

  “One of MacDougall’s men attacked her when we made our escape. She fought him and took a boot to her ribs for her trouble.”

  A white-hot rage gripped Colin’s guts, twisting and writhing inside him, pressing him to action.

  “I want the man. I’ll have his bowels for dinner for what he’s dared. Once she’s found, you’ll lead me to him and I’ll make him pay for what he’s done.”

  “Sorry, my friend.” Dair shrugged. “Any payment you take from that one will have to come in the next world. I had the pleasure in this one.”

  Colin clenched his teeth together to hold back a primal bellow of frustration. “Painfully, I hope?”

  “Oh, I’d imagine so,” his friend answered, lifting his hands in front of him to mimic the quick gesture of snapping someone’s neck.

  It would have to do.

  “Drew!” Colin yelled, but his brother had already reached his side.

>   “I heard. I’ve sent for the stable master. My men are at yer disposal, brother. My men and my own self as well. We’ll find her and we’ll bring her home.”

  Colin broke toward the stables at a run. They’d find her. He just prayed to whatever gods cared to listen that they’d find her in time.

  Thirty-nine

  Her body had given up flinching. It simply hurt too much now.

  Abby struggled for anything even resembling a deep breath as Jonathan paced in front of her, stopping to lean down where she sat, her back against a tree.

  For perhaps the tenth time he screamed at her, ordering her to “Try again!” with his face a mottled purple-red, spittle settling at the corners of his mouth.

  “Tried,” she rasped. “Nothing happens.” Maybe it was eleven times. She’d lost count.

  When her eyes drifted shut, she could almost will herself into that spot in her mind where the dreams took over. So close to the place she wanted to be. The dream place where Colin waited. She’d be safe if she could only run fast enough to reach his arms. He’d catch her up and hold her tight and none of this would hurt her anymore.

  “Try again. Say the damn words out loud. There’ll be time enough for rest when you’ve got me back where I belong.”

  Her head jarred back against the tree when he slapped her, and a fresh new wave of pain flowed through her body.

  Twelve.

  “Move away from her, Nuadian.”

  Abby forced her eyes open, surprised that her dream place had come to her, but in a bizarre déjà vu sort of way. It was like reliving those moments in the glen.

  Colin entered from the trees, just as he had that day, but this time he carried an enormous sword in front of him.

  “The only place yer going is to hell, on the end of my sword.”

  Just as he had before, Jonathan lifted his arm, aiming the gun he held at Colin.

  This was wrong somehow. The words were different and she couldn’t play her part this time. There was no knife for her to use.