Ghost Clan_A Scottish Highlander Time Travel Romance

by Heather Walker

  The same couldn’t be said for Jamie. Forever clowning, forever joking and cutting up, Jamie never took anything seriously, not even a battle to the death. If his enemy rushed him and knocked him over and slashed him to ribbons, he laughed it all off. He danced to his feet and returned the favor without batting an eyelash.

  Jamie kept the company from going insane these last few weeks. Angus would gladly give away anybody to keep Jamie around.

  Four of the other five members of their party represented a curious mix. There was that big bruiser Ewan Munro. His red and black kilt stuck out among the more subdued dark green of the Camerons, but Ewan proved his worth a dozen times since they left home. He cut his hair when he left home, and now it stuck straight out from his head. He said he wanted to make himself look more imposing on the battlefield, and it worked. He was Angus’s best friend from toddlerhood, and he refused to remain behind when the Camerons made the decision to mobilize.

  There was Brody Armstrong, Robbie’s best friend. If Angus ever wanted something accomplished, all he had to do was call up a couple of Armstrongs. Of all the men in the party, Angus only really feared Brody. Angus could face anyone else, but not him. Smaller and more compact than the rest of the party, Brody made up for his lack of size in sheer maniac blood lust when it came to fighting. He narrowed his eyes on his opponent, and the rest was history.

  Then there was the Baird twins, Connor and Connal. Even after all these weeks, Angus had trouble telling them apart, but that didn’t matter. They were mercenaries who happened to be passing through the district when the Camerons set out. They decided to come along, even though Angus assured them they wouldn’t get paid—ever. They didn’t care. They came for the adventure.

  An iron hand clamped on Angus’s wrist. He caught his breath and whipped around to find the tenth man at his side. A tattered brown hood obscured his face. Only the ragged ends of a long beard showed above the robe’s frayed neck. Angus shivered the way he always did when he saw that mysterious figure.

  The creature inside that robe identified himself only by the name Ross. He always kept his gnarled hands tucked inside his sleeves. He only took them out when he cast a spell or extended them toward some feature of the landscape he wanted to divine.

  He yanked Angus back in midstride. He hissed low through his teeth so only Angus heard him. “There’s somethin’ out there.”

  “Where?” Angus breathed. Ross gave him the creeps at the best of times, but he learned never to ignore the old man’s warnings.

  A crooked finger pointed into the woods. Callum, Robbie, and Brody already disappeared into the trees. The Bairds followed.

  “Is it…?” Angus hesitated to form the words. “Is it…. the wraiths again?”

  Ross shook his head. “Not wraiths. It’s naught comin’ from the witch. I…I dinnae ken what i’tis.”

  Angus’s heart quailed. He thanked Heaven the others weren’t around to see this moment. He wouldn’t enter that wood for anything. If Ross didn’t understand it, how could a mere mortal like Angus face it with nothing but a sword and a few daggers to defend himself?

  Ross’s extended hand quivered. A humming sound came from under his hood. Angus knew better than to question or make the slightest move when Ross acted like this.

  The old man shook all over. His brown robe clung to his scrawny body, but Ross could fight with the best of ‘em. Give him a sword, and he was worth four Bairds any day of the week.

  Ross made a clicking sound when his raspy breath stopped in his throat. Angus saw enough of these divining sessions to recognize the sound. Ross snapped out of his trance, and his breathing returned to normal. He kept his voice low. He only ever communicated with Angus—never the others. “She’s o’er there.”

  Angus choked back the words. “Who?”

  Ross shook his head. “She’s just come through the door.”

  “Is it…Is it the witch?”

  Ross tucked his hand back inside his sleeve. “We need ‘er. We’ll no mak’ it wi’out ‘er, but ye better hurry.”

  Angus didn’t wait for a second command. What Ross told him to do, he did. He set off through the woods. Anything would be better than standing there talking to Ross, and Ross assured him it wasn’t wraiths, so that was a mercy.

  He walked so fast he caught up with the others. They didn’t pay any attention to him until he looked around. “O’er ‘ere.”

  Callum stopped dead in his tracks and peered at him. “What?”

  Angus pointed in the direction Ross indicated. “Adjust yer course. Head fer…” He took a quick reckoning. “Head fer that hilltop.”

  Callum frowned. “The castle’s this way.”

  Angus shook his head. “Do as I bid ye.”

  Instead of waiting for the others to obey him, he set off on his own. He had no idea what he would find, and he couldn’t bear the doubt in their eyes. He walked without turning around to see if they followed. Ross said they couldn’t make it without…. whatever it was. That’s all Angus needed to hear.

  He walked for over an hour before the hilltop came into view, but he wasn’t looking for that. He was looking for whatever Ross called ‘she’. Whatever it was, he could only hope and pray it was human.

  His spirits started to flag. What if Ross made a mistake? What if Angus missed it in these woods? What if they had to double back and lost more time?

  All of a sudden, he heard a rustle of leaves. He veered off and headed toward the sound. Callum appeared at his right side. Ewan materialized at his left with his saber in his hand. Angus put out his hand. “Sheath yer blade, mon. You’ll no be needing it.”

  Ewan frowned. He didn’t sheath his blade. Neither man nor beast nor dark of night could make Ewan sheath his blade, and Angus knew it.

  Another rustle of leaves made him turn around. The sound came from right under his feet. He kicked a pile of leaves at the base of a tree, and his toe struck something solid. The pile of leaves squealed, and big, bad, brave Ewan Munro jumped a foot in the air. Callum cursed under his breath. “Jobby radge!”

  Ewan hauled back his saber to stab the point into the pile of leaves. Angus seized his wrist just in time. “Nae!”

  Ewan shook him off. “Gang awa’ wi’ ye, ye fud bawbag! If they get a jump o’ us, we’re finished, do ye hear? Lay off, ye coward!”

  Angus strained his arms to the breaking point holding Ewan back. “Nae, mon! The wizard told me.”

  Ewan froze. “Told ye what?”

  Angus let go of his friend’s arm and turned back to the pile. He pulled back his leg and gave the thing another good hard kick.

  The reaction he got exceeded all his expectations. The leaves flew off in all directions, and a screaming fury rocketed out flying straight for Angus’s face. Two clawed talons raked his face before he staggered back out of the way.

  The thing screeched to Heaven. It didn’t look human. Black hair clung to its head. It bared its awful teeth. Angus snatched those two vicious paws out of the air, but the thing came at him with such force it launched him backward. He slammed into a tree, and the thing sailed into him full force. Those two claws sank into his neck and cut off his air.

  The next thing he knew, the hideous creature smashed his head into the rough bark behind him. It wrenched his head forward and gave him two more hard bangs. His eyes fluttered and almost closed before Ewan and Callum tore the thing off him. They dragged it clear and fought it down.

  Angus struggled to breathe. He swam up from the brink of unconsciousness to gain his feet again. He coughed and retched. His head weighed a ton, but he had to get himself together. He couldn’t fall over at a time like this.

  He dragged his leaden eyes around to his brother and his friend, but they weren’t looking at him. They stared at the demon in their hands, and Angus almost fell over at their feet when he found himself staring at a human woman.

  Chapter 3

  Carmen rubbed her hands together. She dared look around one more time at the hideous creatur
es surrounding her. They could only be human men, but she definitely wasn’t in Kansas anymore. They all wore kilts brushing their knees and long hair—all except that ogre over there in the red kilt.

  The man who found her, the man she tried to strangle, stood at a remove from the others, but anybody could see he was in charge here. If that monster with the short fuzzy hair tried to threaten her, one word from their leader silenced him.

  The leader guy spoke in a quiet voice, but the sound carried to her ear with no trouble. “Ye dinnae belang in these woods, lass.”

  Carmen’s head shot up. “Well, tell me another one, Mister. Do you think I just stepped out for a latte and happened to wind up in a pile of leaves in…. wherever this is?” She turned away and muttered to herself. “Holy cripes! I can’t believe it actually worked! If Hazel didn’t pull one out of her rear end this time, I don’t know what hit me.” Aloud, she addressed the guy again. “Let me guess. This isn’t King Arthur’s Camelot, is it?” She broke down in hysterical laughter. “Of course it isn’t, or you all wouldn’t be dressed like the Chinaman’s tea party.”

  The shortest member of the party turned away. “’e’s gang daft in ‘is head.”

  The leader frowned. “Are ye a boy?”

  “A boy!” Carmen snorted. “Can’t you tell a woman from a man? Oh, this is just priceless. She tries to send us to King Arthur’s Camelot, and I wind up in a canned episode of the Flintstones. How did I ever get myself roped into this? I am never speaking to Hazel Green again as long as I live.”

  The leader addressed the short man as if Carmen couldn’t hear him. “The wizard called ‘er ‘she’. I guess it’s a woman, even if it looks lik’ a mon.”

  Carmen jumped to her feet. She couldn’t listen to this anymore. “I am not a man, chump. Can’t you see that?”

  He scanned her up and down. “Ye look lik’ a boy tae me, even if ye are a lass.”

  “I am not a lass,” Carmen sneered, “or whatever else you want to call me. I am a woman, and I can kick your ass into next Tuesday, so keep your homeboys on a leash if you know what’s good for ya.”

  The leader knit his brow. He murmured to the other big man on his other side, the other one who dragged her off the leader. “She speaks a strange tongue, eh, even if it does sound familiar.”

  “I’m speaking English, you dolt.” Carmen threw up her arms and spun away. “Aw, what’s the use of talking to you blockheads? I’ll never find my way out of this stinkin’ hole.”

  No one moved. They all stared at her like she dropped from Mars or something—which, when she thought about it, she kinda did.

  After the most awkward silence she could imagine, the leader guy strode up behind her. “What’s yer name, lass?”

  She barked the words over her shoulder without turning around. She couldn’t let these Neanderthals see how much this situation bothered her. “Carmen. My name is Carmen Hendricks—Lieutenant Carmen Hendricks to you.”

  He paused. “Lieutenant? Be ye in the Army?”

  She snorted again. She swallowed down a lump in her throat. Nothing could make her break down faster right now that being nice to her. Maybe that was his strategy—to make her break down. “I’m not in the Army. I’m a cop.”

  He waited for her to say something. “Turn around, lass.”

  She meant to confront him, to show him how tough she was and how ready to smash his head in all over again. She spun around, but when she saw the expression on his face, she stopped.

  His deep grey eyes searched her face. Something approaching sympathy hid under that rough exterior. He wore lanky, filthy hair around his chiseled face just like the others, but something noble set him apart from his friends.

  Instead of making him look ridiculous, his kilt made him look distinctly masculine. These primates might mistake her for a boy with her short hair, her jeans, and her boots, but his long hair and his kilt only made him look more manly. They all did.

  They all wore plain white shirts with another swath of plaid cloth slung across their chests. Each wore a round pouch suspended over their crotches by a leather thong around their hips, and every man among them carried a sword. Most carried other weapons stashed around their bodies. Carmen picked that up in an instant.

  Every single one of them bore the evidence of violence. They fought—a lot—and recently. That tall one over there—a deep cut disfigured his smooth cheek. The other one—they must be twins, they looked so much alike—he limped with a bloody rag tied around his calf.

  Carmen took a closer look around the circle. Almost everyone here resembled someone else. How could she miss this? This wasn’t just some random collection of wild men from the forest. They looked alike. They must be related.

  Once she made that connection, she saw the whole thing in an instant. Half the men here wore the same dark green and black plaid as the leader, and they all bore the same unmistakable stamp on their features. Each one carried his own distinctive individual version of the same type. They were brothers.

  Carmen came back around to gazing into the leader’s face. “Who are you people?”

  He let out a heavy sigh. “I am Angus Cameron, and these are me brothers. Those over there are friends o’ ours. We’re on a journey tae…. weel, we’re on a journey.”

  “How did you find me?”

  The words stabbed him in the guts, and he looked away. “That is a story fer another day. We mun’ be movin’ on. Come alang.”

  “Wait!” Carmen cried.

  He turned back, and his eyebrows went up.

  She shifted from one foot to the other. She didn’t mean her voice to echo through the woods like that. When did she become this helpless damsel in need of rescue by these apes? “I mean, what are you gonna do? I mean, where are you going and …. and all that?”

  He shrugged and kept on walking. “Ye come alang. He said ye were to come. That’s all.”

  One by one, the others fell in line behind him. Some glared at her in open contempt and hostility. She couldn’t fight these men. Not only was she unarmed, she was utterly alone in this crazy world.

  Where exactly was she? Those kilts and their accents told her she must be in Scotland, and it certainly wasn’t modern Scotland. She paced around to quiet her racing brain. So Hazel and her wacky time travel experiment made a slight miscalculation in her trajectory target. She sent Carmen to somewhere in medieval Scotland, right in the middle of God only knew what kind of strife and conflict—so much so this Angus guy wouldn’t even tell her what they were doing.

  She watched the twins file out of the little clearing where Angus questioned her. What was she supposed to do—sit here and let them walk out of her life? She would be utterly alone and friendless—not to mention having no way on God’s green Earth to get back to the present.

  What happened to the other girls? Were Elle and Grace and Sadie running around these woods somewhere? Would Carmen meet up with them?

  Carmen couldn’t hope for that. Something or someone told this Angus character where to find her, and whoever it was told him to take her with him. Maybe someone in this screw-up had some idea what was going on. Maybe if she followed these guys, she would find that person. Maybe they could even send her back where she belonged.

  She gathered all her courage to follow that long line of rough, tough men. They beat the toughest cops she knew hands down. Wiry iron muscle stretched over their bones under their clothes. Their flinty eyes took in every detail and never missed a beat. They’d been through the ringer, and no mistake.

  Carmen thought she understood hard men, fighting men, tough men who knew how to throw a punch and take one, but she never laid eyes on men like this. Her combat training didn’t mean a thing to them. They didn’t know she could hold her own in a fight. Maybe in the kind of fighting they did, she couldn’t hold her own.

  That thought shook her to her core. The woods crowded around her. Invisible hands stretched out to grab her and molest her, and she couldn’t do a thing to defend herself
. A chill struck her heart, and she raced after the men disappearing into the trees.

  Chapter 4

  Angus made sure he kept the front position for the rest of the day so he wouldn’t see that woman trailing the end of his line. A few hours after they found her, Jamie pushed his way to the front to walk at Angus’s side.

  “I’m no sayin’ it’s unwise, ye understand. Just pointin’ out the fact, mon. We cinnae have a woman where we’re goin’. Ye kens it as weel as I, Angus, and besides, who’ll she bunk with tonicht, I wonder?”

  Angus didn’t stop walking. He didn’t have to. He clipped his words short for maximum effect. “None a’ yer jokin’, Jamie Cameron. Ross told me tae go pick ‘er up. She’s part o’ this.”

  Jamie made a few more pointed remarks, but he drifted back to his place in line. He never got the knack of making fun of Ross. No one could.

  When the sun sloped toward the horizon so Angus had to shield his eyes from the golden glare, he dropped back in line until he came level with Robbie. “Tak’ the lads o’er that wee hill o’er there, Rob. There’s water down there if I’m none mistaken. Camp under that muckle oak tree and wait fer me.”

  Robbie cocked his head to glance at his brother. “Are ye sure about this ‘ere? I dinnae ken…”

  Angus passed his hand across his eyes. “I dinnae ken about any o’ this, mon. It’s Ross as told me to tak’ ‘er, and any mon would be a bigger dunce than I to flout Ross.”

  Robbie nodded. “I’ll do as ye say, but I dinnae like it a’tall. Just so’as ye ken that, Angus.”

  Angus clapped Robbie on the shoulder. “I dinnae like it none meself, but I got to do it as Ross says. At least I’ll ken ye and the lads’ll be safe down there if anything goes awry.”

  Robbie nodded again and pushed toward the head of the group. The others paid no attention to Angus disappearing toward the back—at least, they pretended to pay no attention. After the last man passed him, Angus dared to look back.