Stranded By The Highlander: A Scottish Time Travel Romance-Highlander Forever Book 2

by Preston, Rebecca

  “It must be a big hive,” Nancy said, blinking down at the jar. Now she looked for it, she saw at least a dozen similar jars sitting in various places around the cabin. “To produce so much honey…”

  “Well, I give them a little help,” Maggie said sunnily, tipping her a surreptitious wink.

  Nancy smiled — but she had to admit, she had no idea what that meant. Did Maggie have actual magic powers, or was she just clever when it came to bee husbandry? So much of so-called ‘witchcraft’ often turned out to be clever women who knew more than they were supposed to about things like healing, or herbs, or science. But at the same time, Maggie was literally a supernatural creature.

  “Nessie likes you,” Maggie informed her as they ate, her eyes twinkling. “I could tell. It isn’t just anyone she’d come to visit with, ham or no. What did you say to her when you met her down there, when you arrived?”

  “Nothing,” Nancy said blankly, trying to think back to that moment. “I had my mask and mouthpiece on, I couldn’t speak much…”

  “Well, Nessie doesn’t speak either,” Kaitlyn pointed out. “But she hears things.”

  “Aye,” Maggie agreed. “Hears whether you’ve got a good heart. That’s why she’s so good at sniffing out Unseelie Fae.”

  “We hope so, anyway,” Malcolm muttered, frowning.

  Maggie shot him a sharp glance. “More trouble?”

  “A little. We’ve taken our whole pack of hounds down to the village to share around, as the homes with dogs and cats weren’t touched by the thieves, and they’ve done a little bit of reorganizing so that the dogs can guard as much food as possible in each larder, but the villagers are still worried. And so are we, with the harvest coming.”

  “Aye, we’ll not survive the winter at all if the harvest goes missing,” Maggie murmured, looking thoughtful. “How strange. Well, if it’s Unseelie, you know what to do. Iron and fire. You won’t need my help, but it’s there if you do.”

  “Thank you, Maggie.”

  “Should have a word to that monster of mine,” she muttered, glancing toward the door as if the monster was still waiting in the shallows to be rebuked. “If it’s Fae, then she’s let them through.”

  “I’m sure she did her best,” Nancy protested. “It’s a very big Loch. Maybe they outsmarted her.”

  “Not hard,” Maggie snorted.

  “How intelligent is she, exactly? Is she as clever as a human, or —”

  Maggie shrugged. “Are you? Am I? Intelligence isn’t a real idea. She’s dumb as a brick in some ways, but then so am I, and so are you, and so is every person living. And she has her strong suits. There are things she knows that nobody else does.”

  “Does she understand language?”

  “She understands what she needs to,” Maggie said in a declamatory kind of way. “That’s all that’s important, as far as I’m concerned.”

  They chatted more over breakfast about monsters and cryptids — Maggie was very amused to find that there was a thriving school of paranormal investigation in Nancy’s time, people who were convinced that strange creatures existed and were out there, just waiting to be discovered. She cackled aloud as Nancy described a documentary about Bigfoot that she’d seen — a group of very determined men, filming in the woods for years on end, trying to get footage of the great ape-like creatures they described.

  “Sounds like a Fae to me,” Maggie chuckled, “if indeed they did see one. But Fae have all kinds of tricks. They’ll never trap one. Never get the photo they want. Unless the creature offers them a deal, of course… which they’d be most wise to ignore, if they value their lives.”

  Nancy couldn’t help but shiver a little, thinking of the enthusiasm with which the men had trampled around through the snow, pointing out indentations and claiming them as footprints, leaving apples in key strategic areas and whooping exultantly when they were gone the next day — as though the only explanation was a sasquatch, and not any other of the dozens of legitimate wild species that lived in the area. Even for a believer like Nancy, who was firmly behind the idea of cryptids lurking in the woods, the documentary had felt a little sad and desperate. To hear that the creatures not only were likely to be real, but also possibly manipulative and malevolent, made her worry for the men who were so desperate to find the creatures.

  Well, they didn’t exist yet, she counselled herself with a grin as she finished her porridge. Maggie, true to form, had included some kind of spice or herb in the mixture which brought out its flavor and mixed perfectly with the honey. It was delicious, and Nancy was sad to finish the bowl… but Kaitlyn and Maggie shooed them out not long after, it being well past time for Kaitlyn to get started on her lessons. They said their farewells, then found themselves standing alone together on the road. Nancy grinned up at Malcolm.

  “Were you really worried about me?”

  “Just for a little bit,” he said defensively. “Then I remembered who you were, and I wasn’t worried at all. Sorry,” he added. “If that’s insulting. It wasn’t that I thought you were going to do anything stupid, it was just… well, I didn’t think.”

  “I take it as a compliment,” she said breezily, trying to hide the blush on her cheeks. “Honestly, I do.”

  Chapter 27

  They hovered awkwardly for another few moments, not sure what to do. Nancy didn’t really want to go back to the castle just yet — part of her was tempted to go back down the jetty and see if she could coax the monster back, to talk to it. She’d love to get a better look at its whole body — the flippers she’d seen when she was diving, the long tail that she’d seen whip around and disappear through the murky water. It was a shame she didn’t have her drysuit with her — it would be the work of a moment to dive into the water and swim out to find the monster. She wouldn’t be able to go very deep without her equipment, of course, but she could hold her breath long enough at this point that it would be worth the trip.

  But Malcolm seemed to have other ideas. He glanced back toward the castle, then looked at her inquisitively, gesturing down the road that led to the village.

  “Would you like to visit the village with me again? I wanted to check in after last night, see if any thefts had taken place.”

  “Sure,” Nancy said, pleased to be invited. “Happy to be your assistant detective. But should we go back and get some horses?”

  Malcolm shrugged, looking up at the clear blue sky. “It’s a nice day, and I’m in no rush. Happy to walk, if you are.”

  She smiled as he extended his arm to her, for all the world like some Lord in a Regency romance — funny to think that even that period of history hadn’t happened yet — and took it in her own, a little clumsily. They set off walking down the road, arm in arm, him shortening his long strides to keep pace with her, her discretely lengthening her own to meet him in the middle. The warmth of his body beside hers was very pleasant in the cool morning air — she understood why this had been the fashionable way to walk with a gentleman. Physical contact without doing anything scandalous or untoward. Not that she didn’t have her fair share of scandalous ideas about what she’d like to do with him, if they happened to find themselves alone in room with a bed…

  Stop it, Nancy. Business first, then you can start flirting, she scolded herself. They had a famine to fend off, a serious problem to curtail. There’d be no point developing any kind of relationship with Malcolm if they both starved to death over the winter because creatures kept stealing their food. So she fixed her eyes on the road ahead and let herself enjoy his company.

  She couldn’t help chattering on about all the cryptids she’d read about in the book her mother had given her. Malcolm was fascinated to hear about what she’d learned about the Loch Ness Monster as a child. He was shocked that the creature was famous worldwide — she supposed it was strange to imagine their local cryptid and pet being known the world over.

  “There’s even a photo of her,” she told him as they walked, grinning widely to think of the old image.
/>
  He frowned at her. “Photo?”

  “Oh. A future invention.” She grinned, waving a hand dismissively. “We have these things called cameras, they take — still images of anything they’re pointed at.”

  “Fascinating. And someone pointed one at Nessie? And she let them?”

  “I don’t think so,” Nancy said, rolling her eyes. “Everyone says the photo’s a hoax, and I think so too. Of course, most people are saying it’s a hoax because they don’t believe the monster exists, where I’m saying it’s a hoax because it doesn’t look enough like the monster. I’m going to be a world-leading expert on Nessie when I get back.” She giggled.

  Malcolm looked suddenly solemn. “When you get back?”

  “If I get back,” she corrected herself, shrugging. “I mean, if it’s possible.”

  “You want to leave?”

  “No! Well — Malcolm, I’m so happy here. Everything’s been wonderful — you’ve all been so hospitable, and I’ve been enjoying spending time with you —” she fought the blush that threatened to creep across her face there — “but … the future’s my home. My family’s there. My dad… he doesn’t have anyone else, not since we lost my mom. So I owe it to him at least to try to find a way back. Even if it’s just for a few minutes, to tell him that I love him, and that I’m safe.”

  “I understand,” Malcolm said softly. They’d made good time along the lakefront — she could see the village looming up before them, the stones of its buildings shining in the morning sun. “If I could speak to my father again, I’d give anything to do so. If I can do anything to help you, Nancy, let me know.” He hesitated, and she could tell he was trying to decide whether he should say something to her.

  “What? What are you thinking?”

  “It’s just… from what I know of the Fae, they’re very likely to … well, if you do get an audience with them, and you are able to make your request… it’s likely they’ll offer you a choice. Fae gifts are never quite what you want them to be… there’s always some kind of catch.”

  Nancy frowned.

  “Not with Maggie,” he added, grinning. “Maggie’s the exception. Her father was a generous man, so she’s never been one to play tricks on someone who needed help. But even the Seelie Fae give gifts with catches. I wouldn’t be surprised if they asked you to choose.”

  “To choose?”

  “Between going back and seeing your father… and staying here. I’d be very surprised if they let you do both.”

  Nancy felt a cold weight sink into her belly. She hadn’t thought of that — that the Sidhe might offer her a one-way trip, or the choice to remain here in Scotland. She’d been operating on the assumption that they’d just let her go back and forth as she wished… but that might not be the case. After all, she had no idea how much magic would be required to take her back and forth. They’d already done her an enormous favor simply by bringing her here in the first place, by saving her life… she was in debt to them as it stood. How could she ask them for more? Perhaps she could get a message to her father? Anna had mentioned that the Sidhe had first come to her in a dream… perhaps they could send a dream of her to her father, explaining that she was happy and well, but that she’d never be able to see him again? That made her heart ache.

  But she put it out of her mind. Malcolm was looking down at her with clear worry on his face, and she didn’t want to be the source of any more stress at a time where they were already trying to deal with a famine — or the potential for one. So she hoisted a resolute expression onto her face and gave him her best smile. There was plenty of time to worry about her father — that was the best part about all of this. He wasn’t worried right now, because there was no way he could be worried — he hadn’t been born yet. She just needed to get some kind of message to him, three or four hundred years in the future. Worst case scenario — she’d seen this in a TV show or maybe it was a movie what felt like a thousand years ago — she’d simply write a letter and bequeath it to her children and grandchildren, telling them the exact date and time at which it needed to be delivered to a specific old man who lived in Raleigh, North Carolina…

  God, she missed her dad. And her hometown. She’d never find out if the Hurricanes won the Stanley Cup. They’d been looking so good for the playoffs… Somehow, that was making her chest ache too. God, homesickness was hard. It just crept up on you in the middle of doing something else… like having a lovely morning stroll with a handsome Scottish warrior, for example. She focused her attention on the here-and-now, resolving to get this famine sorted if it killed her.

  They headed into town, and before they’d even talked to anyone, she could hear Malcolm sigh. It seemed the dogs hadn’t been as effective as they’d wanted. In one front yard, there was what seemed to have been a sack of oats — the bag was ripped open, with a handful of oats spread across the footpath that led to the door. As they watched, a woman emerged, her face drawn with worry. Spotting Malcolm, she hastened over to him, her eyes wide.

  “Oh, good, you’ve come. We were going to send word to the castle. I’m afraid it’s bad news, Malcolm — the thieves have come again, and this time the dogs didn’t stop them.”

  Nancy’s heart sank right down into her feet. She could tell from Malcolm’s face that he was feeling the same way, though he was trying to put a brave front on for the benefit of the villagers. This was bad. If the dogs hadn’t succeeded in driving away the thieves, what else could they try?

  Chapter 28

  “How many houses?” Malcolm asked the woman, all business. Her name was Marianne, she remembered — Nancy remembered her from yesterday as being one of the bossy, strident villagers who’d been speaking to Father Caleb, trying to get something organized. It wasn’t a controlling or cruel attitude she had, this woman… she was just worried about her own wellbeing, and about the town surviving the winter. And fair enough, too.

  “Five, from what we can tell,” Marianne was saying, staring worriedly up the path towards the church. “Including the church, godless little creatures they are.”

  “Do you think it’s rats?”

  “Can’t be,” Marianne said, frowning. “Here, I’ll show you my window and you’ll see what I mean.”

  She led them around to the side of her house, picking their way through a vegetable garden that had similarly been torn up — Nancy sighed to see the soil furrowed and destroyed, plants yanked out by the roots and left to decay in the summer sun. Marianne looked down at the wreckage as they passed too, heaving a sigh.

  “There were some good potatoes coming through there,” she sighed. “But the real damage is inside. Here’s the window.”

  Malcolm and Nancy moved up to examine it — and sure enough, this wasn’t the kind of damage that even the most ambitious rat was capable of. The latch had been damaged — it was torn from where it was affixed into the wooden window, and the wood around it splintered, for all the world as though a thin piece of metal had been used to pry it open. Sure enough, the window swung easily open when Nancy touched it.

  “Broke in through my window, crept through the house and raided the pantry. The bag on the lawn must’ve dropped while they were fleeing — they took a lot more than that. Old stores, mostly, but still — valuable to have in case of emergency. Which this is rapidly becoming.”

  “And how many of the houses hit had dogs? Did you have one?”

  “Aye, it was sleeping in the yard when I got up. Didn’t hear a thing.”

  Nancy frowned. That didn’t seem right — even the laziest, sleepiest dog would be bound to notice if multiple creatures — or monsters — walked through a yard. She retraced her steps around to the front of the house, where the dog was sitting on the porch. It wagged its tail to see her, tongue lolling from its mouth… but she wasn’t looking for the dog. She was looking for something else… and she found it, too. A bone, tossed aside so it was hard to see, but there were scraps of meat still clinging to it which indicated it as a fresh cut.

 
; “Marianne?” she called around to the back of the house. The woman bustled out to meet her. “You didn’t happen to give the dog any dinner last night, did you?”

  “No, I thought I’d wait til morning to feed him — keep him hungry overnight in case it was rats, so then he could have caught his supper. Why?”

  “I think I know why the dog didn’t wake anyone,” Nancy said to Malcolm and Marianne, gesturing down at the bone. Malcolm picked it up, making an exasperated sound at the back of his throat.

  “They brought bribes.”

  “That’d explain it. Four of the five houses hit had dogs,” Marianne explained, frowning with exasperation at the dog. “I suppose we’ll hear from a farmer that there’s a sheep missing somewhere, too…”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised. Have any farmers come to town lately that you could ask?”

  “Not recently, but if raids like these are hitting us here in town, I don’t doubt they’ll have hit farmers, too. We’ll hear soon enough.” Marianne sighed. “I might send my son out to check in with them, actually. We could use a bit more information.”

  Marianne’s son was a stringy boy of maybe thirteen or fourteen, who’d clearly shot up in the last few years and wasn’t quite used to his own height or the length of his limbs. Still, he was a good boy — he nodded solemnly when Marianne explained what needed to happen and set off running up the high street.

  “He’ll be back in a little while with news, I’d warrant,” Marianne said with satisfaction. “Will you two be staying around?”

  “Aye, we’ll wait for the news and visit with the Father,” Malcolm said. “There’s bound to be something we can do. Even if we need to set patrols of soldiers in the village until the thieves can be caught, Marianne, we’ll do it.”

  “It’s good to have you all on our side,” Marianne said politely, but Nancy could tell that she didn’t trust the men and women of the Sept to do much. “I’d best start tidying up my wrecked house… unless you wanted to come in, see the damage more closely?”