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

by Preston, Rebecca

  “Seriously — he’s one of the best men I’ve met here,” Anna said gently, her whimsical expression giving way to something more earnest. “If you’ve got any misgivings… I’ll vouch for him. It can get very lonely here, for women like us. Women from the future. So few things in common with everyone else… if you can make a connection with someone like Malcolm, and he feels the same way, well — my advice would be to jump on it.”

  “That’s what you did with Donal?”

  “Well, eventually,” Anna said, grinning. “First I fought with him for a few weeks and risked getting myself kicked out of the castle for good. But I didn’t have a wise mentor like me to get advice from.”

  “Somehow I doubt that even me at my worst is likely to get me kicked out of the castle.” Nancy grinned.

  “I don’t know. Donal said you got pretty scary yesterday when he and Malcolm told you that you couldn’t go diving in the Loch,” Anna said, raising an eyebrow. “You overestimate the courage of these men. They act all big and brave, but let a woman give ‘em a tongue-lashing and you’ll see their true colors.”

  Nancy laughed. It certainly sounded like Anna was speaking from long experience. It was a wonder she and Donal had had any time at all to get married and conceive a baby, what with all the fighting they seemed to do. “I apologized earlier,” she admitted.

  Anna rolled her eyes. “Well, that was a terrible idea. Now they’ll expect you to give in next time too.” She grinned to show she was joking, and they finished their meal in happy chatter about the future world they both had in common.

  Though Anna hadn’t said anything to the effect, Nancy had a suspicion that being able to talk about her home — her home time, that was — was quite beneficial for the woman’s mental health. Nancy couldn’t imagine how she’d have felt if she’d arrived here with no frame of reference at all, nobody who understood who she was, or where she was from… it was wonderful to have a friend like Anna, an ally who knew what she was going through.

  “You don’t follow the NHL, do you?” she asked hopefully.

  Anna shook her head, her mouth full of bread. Nancy sighed.

  “I was always more of a basketball girl.”

  “I would’ve thought you’d dig the violence.” Nancy grinned. “Men slamming into each other on ice at a hundred miles an hour —”

  “I like to keep my violence for sword fighting,” Anna said primly, drawing a laugh from Nancy. “Sorry I can’t be your hockey pal.” She looked thoughtful. “Though maybe we could get a league going. When were ice-skates invented? Could we get hold of some?”

  “It’s a shame the Loch doesn’t freeze in the winter.” Nancy laughed. “We could have some epic matches out there.”

  They talked and gossiped well after dinner was finished and the plates cleared away, and by the time they made their way up to bed, Nancy was feeling exhausted but happy, warm with the buzz of good company and good talk. And she had to admit — she was excited at the prospect of going to visit Malcolm. Talking to Anna had solidified her intentions when it came to him. She was interested, and he was good and kind, and what was the harm in seeing where that went? So — she’d be brave, and she’d bring up the subject with him over lunch the next day. It sent a thrill of nervous energy through her body as she settled into bed, trying to will herself calm so she could get to sleep. What if he wasn’t interested? What if she embarrassed herself? No, she told herself firmly. You have to be brave, you have to bring this up. Nothing in life’s worth having that you don’t have to stick your neck out to get, that’s what her father had always told her. And her mother, in her way, had agreed — though she’d also been interested in the role fate and the cosmos would play. That being said, she’d always told Nancy to at least try to meet the stars halfway.

  Meet the stars halfway, she thought to herself as she finally drifted off to sleep, comforted by the memory of her mother. She could do that.

  Chapter 42

  In the morning, Nancy debated with herself over whether she should wear the beautiful green dress Malcolm had gotten for her. She did look gorgeous in it — but at the same time, it might be a bit much for a casual surprise visit that he didn’t even know she was making. Besides, if the villagers needed help fixing any more damaged roofs, she wasn’t exactly going to be much use in a skirt, even if she did look glorious. Besides, if she wore the dress, she’d have to ride sidesaddle — not something she had much experience with, for all that her mother had taught her how when she was small. More as a joke than anything, she reflected, smiling at the memory of her mother perched elegantly side-saddle on a racing Thoroughbred that looked like he was about to take off running and never come back.

  So she put on her usual trousers and tunic, adding the cloak for extra warmth, and ran a brush through her hair a few dozen times. Her mother had had gloriously curly blonde hair that fell to her ribcage at least, but Nancy had inherited her father’s dead straight locks — though she was pleased that her hair was every bit as blonde and shiny as her mother’s. Her mother had never been able to brush her own hair — it always turned it into a wild frizzy mass — but she’d always enjoyed brushing her daughter’s out. The more they brushed it, the shinier and glossier it got. She’d been neglecting it a little since she’d arrived in Scotland, so she took the time now to brush it, smiling at herself in the reflective glass. There. She looked fine.

  In another life, of course, she’d have carefully done her makeup, too. Nancy was an expert at the no-makeup makeup look… smooth, flawless skin— thanks to a little touch of concealer and a discrete foundation or CC cream —cheeks just lightly touched with blush, dark eyelashes but not too dark… she’d even mastered the knack of mixing a little color into her lip balm to give her lips a flushed, but natural, color. But all of her makeup was not only out of her reach… it was hundreds of years in the future, and not yet invented. So she settled for biting at her lips a little to make them flush a brighter shade of their natural pink. That would have to do, she supposed.

  Don’t be silly, she scolded herself as she headed down the spiral staircase. This isn’t a date, he’s not some guy you met online… he knows what you look like already, you’re not going to fool him. And why would you want to? she wondered, heading past the dining hall. She felt too nervous for breakfast — she just wanted to get on the horse and head out. A nice long ride would settle her nerves, and it was a good distance to the village if you didn’t urge your horse on too fast. She thought of the race she’d had with Malcolm and grinned to herself. Maybe they could spend some time racing that afternoon… it would only be fair of her to offer him a rematch, maybe with different steeds.

  She selected the chestnut mare, who almost seemed to have been expecting her. One of her dearest friends, at this point, the dear old girl… she gave her a good scratch under the forelock before she started tacking her up, grinning at the way her eyes slid lazily shut as she enjoyed the attention. It had taken a little while to find her horse’s favorite scratching spots, but the effort had been worth it. The horse stood patiently still while she tacked her up, and then they set off together toward the gate.

  A pang of worry settled in her chest when she looked up at the wall. There were usually a half-dozen or so men up there — four by the gate, two walking the perimeter of the wall. Today, she could only make out one — Brendan, leaned against one of the turrets, with an expression on his face that even from here Nancy could tell was thunderous. One more man was circling the top of the wall. She bit her lip, urging her horse on through the gate. They really had cut down to a skeleton crew.

  The ride was brisk, but pleasant. She was surprised to notice no boots on Maggie’s porch when she rode by — was Kaitlyn running late, or were lessons cancelled for the day? The mystery was solved when she reached town — there was the girl, red hair flying wildly behind her, sprinting down the main road of the town. She gave Nancy a quick wave as she passed her, but didn’t slow down, and Nancy chuckled to herself as she rode.
Perhaps the girl had overslept. No doubt Maggie would give her hell for that.

  It didn’t take long to find Malcolm. He was standing outside Marianne’s house — one of the first to be struck by what they now knew were goblins. The woman was in her yard with him, and they were both peering up at the roof, where a third man was kneeling, doing something to the thatch up there. Nancy slid off her horse, squinting to try and make out what it was they were looking at, then called a greeting. Malcolm turned around, surprise and delight on his face when he saw her, and she smiled broadly, suddenly and completely thrilled that she’d taken Anna’s advice and come to the town to visit. Marianne turned, too, but her face wasn’t quite so happy — she smiled politely enough, but it was clear that her thoughts were elsewhere.

  A sudden shock of icy fear clutched at Nancy’s heart as she remembered their last conversation — Marianne had a son, a son she was going to send up to the outlying farms to warn them about the attacks. Surely, he wasn’t one of the ones…

  “Hi Malcolm, hullo Marianne,” she said cheerfully, walking over to join them. “What’s going on?”

  “The robbers have been setting fires in the thatch,” Marianne said darkly, gesturing up to where the man was. Sure enough, as Nancy looked, she could make out a charred black patch on the thatch, where a fire seemed to have taken hold… and then been beaten out. “It’s a good thing the men of the Sept have been patrolling so often,” Marianne continued, “or the fire’d’ve taken the whole house. Thankfully Malcolm here spotted it before it could take hold.”

  “Aye, it was a piece of luck,” Malcolm agreed, nodding. He looked exhausted — Nancy realized that he must have been up all night.

  “Was the rest of the night okay?” Nancy was torn — she desperately wanted to ask Marianne if her son was alright, but she didn’t want to bring it up if it was a sore subject. Marianne might just be putting on a brave face.

  “Pretty quiet. No more deaths reported,” Marianne said brusquely. “My lad’s been inconsolable. Both the boys who were taken were good friends of his.”

  Nancy breathed a quiet sigh of relief that it hadn’t been Marianne’s son who’d been killed — but still, the loss of the boys was clearly an aching grief for the village. Two young lives, cut short… it seemed so unfair, so irrational. She felt a burning anger in her chest, a determination to make sure she did whatever it took to stop these horrible creatures from harming anyone else. Malcolm seemed to sense her aggravation.

  “It’s good to have you here. Would you like to accompany me on my rounds? I’m checking on the houses in town, making sure no fires took hold,” he explained.

  Marianne bustled off to check on the man who was repairing her thatch, and Nancy took Malcolm’s proffered arm, smiling a little as he led her up the road.

  “So I’m to understand you’ve been up all night?” she enquired, raising an eyebrow.

  Malcolm looked guilty. “Well, I slept from nightfall til about two in the morning. We’re running on split shifts. Keeps the men sharper than simply working all night… but it’s not especially sustainable. We really need to find out where these goblins are hiding and root them out.” He lowered his voice when he named the creatures, and Nancy glanced around, concerned.

  “Are we — still pretending it might be rats or something? Do the villagers know it’s goblins?”

  “Some of them have come to that conclusion,” Malcolm said, rolling his eyes. “The smarter ones, anyway. The other ones — led by Father Caleb, that young fool — still thinks it’s demons. But it’s functionally the same, so we’re not making too much of a fuss about it. So long as they keep the iron up — and don’t accuse us of being the summoners of the demons…”

  Nancy was shocked. “People think that?”

  “Well, they have in the past. It wasn’t so hard to get them riled up a year or so ago when the witch hunters came. Accused Donal himself of being a witch.”

  “They did?” She was shocked — but she couldn’t help but picture Donal in a tall, pointed black hat. Stifling her amusement — this was a serious subject, after all — she followed Malcolm up to the Church. “Are we visiting the Father?”

  “I said I’d keep him in the loop. Seems there was just the one fire last night — the increased patrols are working,” Malcolm said with satisfaction. “So are the curfews. No more bones.”

  “Never again,” Nancy said firmly. “No more bones, full stop.”

  “Aye,” he agreed, softly. “No more bones.”

  They spent the rest of the day pottering about the village. Father Caleb was pleased to see them both, though there was something suspicious in his eye as he looked back and forth between Nancy and Malcolm… perhaps he suspects fornication, she thought to herself with a little giggle. Well, he wasn’t wrong if he was sensing her intentions… They went and visited John the blacksmith, too, who was hard at work on more iron crosses. He put his hammer down for a few minutes to talk to them, but they could tell he was itching to get back to work.

  “No end point in sight,” he said grimly, gesturing to the pile of iron behind him. “I’m told the wee bastards are setting light to roofs, now. Figure I could make some extras to hide under the thatch, give the bastards a shock if they happen to uncover it.”

  “Good thought,” Malcolm said, nodding. “We’ll leave you to it. Don’t work too hard,” he added warningly. “This town’s only got one blacksmith, we can’t have you wearing yourself to the bone before all this is over.”

  “Aye, aye, don’t you worry about me. And don’t have too much fun without me, you hear?”

  The day passed pleasantly enough, but to Nancy’s frustration, it was difficult to get any time alone with Malcolm. He seemed bothered by that, too — but she was noticing that he seemed to be compensating by taking any excuse at all to touch her. Their hands would brush as they walked, he’d guide her steps by putting a hand on her lower back, and once he even put an arm around her shoulders… which he quickly removed, clearing his throat, when they caught the curious eye of a villager peeking over his fence at them. It was mid-afternoon when he straightened up from the yard, they were helping tidy, dusting his hands off.

  “Right. I think it’s about time we had dinner.”

  “Dinner?” She giggled. “It’s two in the afternoon.”

  “Aye, but it gets dark so early these days, and you’ll be riding home soon…” He hesitated, as though about to suggest something… then thought better of it. Had he been about to propose she stay the night? Her heart fluttered. She wouldn’t turn him down if he asked. But he may well be too much of a gentleman to ask… well, that wasn’t a problem she’d ever encountered in her dating life before. How strange. How pleasant, she had to admit.

  They headed for the local tavern. She’d been expecting a dive bar like the ones she’d frequented in Raleigh, but this place was very different — it was cheery and bright, with a wooden bar and a handful of tables. A few of the tables were taken by villagers with mugs of ale, talking and laughing, and there was a fire crackling in the hearth that gave the whole place a cozy glow. Nancy smiled as Malcolm led her to a more private table over in the corner, close to the fire. She noticed that the chairs were close together, and Malcolm made no attempt to move them any further apart — smiling to herself, she settled down next to him, feeling the warmth of his body more than the warmth of the fire.

  “Nancy, I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” he said, his voice low.

  She looked up at him, shocked — she’d spent the whole day trying to gather up the nerve to ask him if he was interested in her, and it felt like he was about to steal her thunder. Well, she thought, a competitive streak flaring to life in her chest, he wasn’t going to beat her to the punch on this. So with an impulse that she would have quashed if she’d let herself think about it for more than a few seconds, she leaned in and kissed him.

  It was a short kiss, but a sweet one — he was clearly surprised by the gesture, but not at all unhappy. She
felt his hand cupping the side of her face, drawing her in, and when they broke apart, she was breathless.

  “Well,” he said blankly. “I suppose that answers my question.”

  She giggled, glancing up at the rest of the tavern to see if anyone was staring at them — and to her shock, nobody was. Malcolm was smiling at her like he was seeing stars — a dizzy expression, a little goofy if she was honest, but also extremely charming. She was grinning so widely that her cheeks were starting to hurt, and she lowered her gaze to the table.

  “I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time,” she mustered the courage to tell him, flicking her eyes back up at him. “I hope that’s okay.”

  “Nancy Kane, it’s more than okay. It’s wonderful.” He straightened, pushing his shoulders back, clearly drawing on some inner courage — it reminded her so much of what she’d been doing that morning that she almost started giggling. “Nancy, would you like to stay with me tonight?”

  “Absolutely,” she said, grinning. “I was hoping you’d ask.” A thought occurred to her. “Aren’t you staying with Father Caleb, though? Wouldn’t he object? Unwed young people, spending the night together…”

  “What he doesn’t know won’t get his robes in a twist,” Malcolm said, grinning. “I’ll smuggle you in.”

  “How exciting,” she breathed, considering going in for another kiss — but before she could, an irritatingly familiar voice sounded right beside them.

  “Why, Malcolm and Nancy. Mind if I join you?”

  They both looked up. There stood Father Caleb, a smug grin on his face. Somehow, Nancy didn’t feel like this was a coincidence.

  Chapter 43

  But they could hardly be rude to a priest, could they?