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

by Preston, Rebecca

  “Of course not, Father,” Malcolm said reluctantly, rising to his feet to fetch the Father another chair.

  Caleb promptly took the seat he’d evacuated, and Nancy shifted her own chair a little away from him, thoroughly annoyed by the imposition, but maintaining a fixed grin on her face. Malcolm returned with the third chair, doing a small double-take when he saw that Father Caleb had wedged himself in between them — then, hiding a grin in the palm of his hand, he sat down beside the priest. Well, Nancy was glad to see that he was enjoying himself.

  “Good news, isn’t it, about the increased patrols being effective?” Malcolm asked stiffly, clearly trying his best to make conversation as the tavern owner brought over the meals they’d ordered. Nancy picked at her potatoes, her appetite not exactly roaring to life as Father Caleb spoke.

  “Yes, indeed. The curfew has been enthusiastically adopted, too. The Village Elders made it law earlier today, for the length of the — well, the problems. I’ve been praying morning and night for the Lord to help us deal with these devils,” he added piously. Under the table, Nancy reached out with her foot to brush against Malcolm’s ankle — he looked up at her, a combination of amusement and frustration on his face. She knew exactly how he felt. After weeks of pining and sexual tension, they’d finally gotten to a point in their relationship where they could talk about it — and here was Father Caleb, interrupting them and putting the absolute kibosh on any kind of conversation. It would have been funny if it wasn’t so infuriating.

  As the meal went on, Father Caleb waxed lyrical about his time in the town, all the things he’d achieved in his short stay. Any other time, Nancy might have been interested to hear all this… but for the most part, she just found it deeply frustrating. The man couldn’t take a hint. Even her potatoes — which were delicious, flavored with butter and salt and bursting with hearty warmth — couldn’t improve her mood. By the time she’d finished them, she’d had just about all she could stand of the priest.

  But whatever she did, she didn’t seem to be able to get away. Malcolm kept trying to wind up the conversation, or hint that Father Caleb should leave — but he was oblivious, still monologuing about his philosophy as a priest and the wise words of his mentors that he’d brought with him all the way from Ireland.

  It’s possible he’s a little drunk, Nancy thought, eyeing his mug of ale with suspicion — but he didn’t seem to have put much of a dent in it. Could he be a terrible lightweight? Or was he really that oblivious to the fact that the two people he was having lunch with desperately wanted him to leave?

  By the time he finally got to his feet — all but forced up by Malcolm, who had taken him firmly by the arm and suggested they get out of the tavern-keeper’s hair — Nancy realized with a start that it was getting late. The sun was low in the sky, the orange light of sunset beginning to creep into the village, and people were already beginning to turn in for the night.

  “Well, Nancy,” the priest said, looking around with surprise. “You’d best be heading home quite soon, I’d imagine — unless you plan to stay at the tavern?”

  That was an idea, she supposed — but she had no money to pay for a room. And besides, she didn’t want to sleep in the tavern, she wanted to sleep with Malcolm … though what she had planned didn’t actually involve much rest at all. But Father Caleb, curse him, seemed to sense that on some level… seemed to know that he was interfering with fornication. And what was more, he seemed to enjoy it.

  Well, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Her horse was still grazing in Marianne’s front yard — the woman had suggested she unbridle the horse and let her graze, if she was planning on staying a while — and she made the decision quickly.

  “No, I’ll be heading back,” she said, seeing the dismay on Malcolm’s face as they crossed the road to where her horse was waiting. She grabbed the bridle from where it was hanging on the fence and the mare ambled up to her obediently, even extending her neck to allow the bridle to be fitted. It seemed her mare wanted to go home, too.

  “Are you sure?” Malcolm said, worry in his voice. “It’s rather late — do you think you’ll make it?”

  “Yep,” she said shortly, swinging aboard the horse. “See you later, Malcolm. Good night, Father Caleb.”

  She urged the horse down the road and away, not caring if her goodbyes had been curt. She had every right to be frustrated, she felt. But as she rounded the bend and set off along the lakeshore, she looked into the sky and felt a pang of real worry. The sun was much lower than she’d thought it was… it was getting very close to dark. Worryingly close. She glanced over her shoulder, almost tempted to turn back and find somewhere to stay in town… but no, she could make it back to the castle, surely.

  The darkness was closing in — she kept her eyes fixed on the horizon. She could feel the horse shifting uneasily below her, tossing her head as she walked along the shore — giving in, Nancy urged her into a trot, rising and falling with the horse’s quicker gait. Not long to go, she thought, trying to calm the panic in her heart. She was cutting it fine, yes, but it wasn’t dark yet… she’d be safe so long as she just kept going… she was on a horse, too, surely a goblin wouldn’t interfere with someone on horseback…

  Then it happened. Her horse uttered a terrified whinny and reared up — it was only Nancy’s quick reflexes that saved her, letting her grab the horse around the neck to stop herself from falling off. There, in the treeline — a pair of glinting eyes, low to the ground, as though set in the face of a child. But that was no child, that shape that she saw flitting through the trees… and horror clutched at her chest. Goblins. That had to be them — tracking her through the forest, waiting for her to be alone. Her horse was prancing in place, yanking at the reins, unwilling to keep moving, but she stroked her neck carefully, whispering soothing words to try to calm the animal down.

  “It’s okay, baby,” she whispered to the horse, trying to sound calmer than she felt. “It’s okay. We just need to… get going.”

  And without warning, she squeezed the horse’s sides with her feet. The mare got the drift, immediately breaking into a canter, accelerating along the road as Nancy rose up in the stirrups, leaning forward over the horse’s neck to help her run faster. There were high, chittering voices in the treeline, but Nancy forced herself to keep looking forward, only forward, her heart pounding as they rode for their lives. I’m not going to end up a sad pile of bones in the trees, she told herself angrily, urging the mare to move faster. She was going to get home safe. Or at the very least, she was going to get to Maggie’s. She’d be safe there. Maggie was scarier than any goblin, that was for sure.

  The sounds behind her changed, and she resisted the urge to look over her shoulder. She was picturing a whole horde of goblins, evil glinting eyes, sharp blades and sharper teeth, patches of scaly skin … but she frowned as she heard what sounded for all the world like a human voice, calling her name. Malcolm’s voice. Had the goblins shapeshifted? Could they disguise their voices, too? It had to be a trap — had to be a trick, they were trying to get her to turn around —

  She heard the ringing of steel, and that was too much — she looked around, and to her shock, there was Malcolm, leaning down over the side of his black gelding and striking at something with the sword in his hand. He was yelling at her to keep going, to reach Maggie’s — she yelled her agreement, urging the mare to move faster. Maggie’s hut couldn’t be far, could it? Surely it had to be up ahead… surely there wasn’t much further to go… what was Malcolm doing here? He must have seen the goblins following her… or just sensed that she’d need his help. She was grateful to see him, but terrified that he was going to get himself killed in his attempt to look after her.

  “There,” she gasped as Maggie’s cottage came up on the horizon. Malcolm’s horse came up beside hers, and they rode together, hell for leather, heading for the safety that beckoned… but the creatures were right behind them. Nancy almost wanted to look, to see what they looked like in
the flesh — but she didn’t want to risk her horse slowing down at all, allowing the creatures to catch up. They wheeled the horses to a stop when they arrived at the cottage — and sure enough, there was Maggie on the porch with the door open and a piece of wood in her hand with fire on the end of it. She must have pulled it from her fireplace. Nancy had never felt more grateful to see the little old woman, and she hurried gratefully into the house as Maggie beckoned to them.

  “The horses, too! They’ll eat them alive!”

  Malcolm turned and grabbed both panting horses by the bridle, leading them up the stairs. Nancy was shocked — Maggie’s house barely fit a few humans, let alone horses! — but to her shock, the horses moved easily into the little space, snorting uneasily as they found a place to stand by the staircase. How in the world? Nancy wondered dizzily. It was as though the little cottage had stretched… somehow making space for all that it needed to fit… could it be magic? She stared at Maggie, who was bolting the door shut, muttering to herself about goblins. There was a terrific rattling and banging at the door and windows, and Maggie drew herself up to her full height, suddenly looking taller than Nancy had ever seen her.

  She yelled something — Nancy couldn’t for the life of her tell what it was, but it was deeply frightening. It sounded like the Gaelic language that Malcolm used sometimes, but older, wilder, more dangerous. It was like the voices of the slender, glowing beings she had met … the Sidhe. And as Maggie spoke whatever fearful words she was speaking, Nancy heard the goblins outside hissing and shrieking. Before too long, the banging and crashing had ended… there was an eerie, watchful silence outside, broken only by splashing. Maggie was peering through the window.

  “Idiots,” she said smugly. “Couple of ‘em got a bit close to the water. Nessie’ll have a good hearty dinner tonight.”

  Now that Nancy listened, she could hear a distant crunching that sounded horribly evocative now that she knew what was probably going on out there. Well, if she was ever in another conversation about the Loch Ness Monster, she could definitely confirm that the thing was a carnivore. Maggie wheeled on Malcolm and Nancy, who were breathing hard, standing rather a lot closer together than the situation really necessitated.

  “What’ve you two got to say for yourselves, then?” Maggie demanded with one eyebrow raised. “Goodness gracious. You’re the ones who set the curfew…”

  “I didn’t think they’d come out until after dark,” Nancy admitted, rubbing her forehead tiredly. “I’m sorry, Maggie. This is all my fault.”

  “And mine,” Malcolm said sternly. “I should’ve stopped you leaving. But that bloody Father Caleb had gotten me so annoyed I wasn’t thinking straight…”

  “Crashed your date, did he?” Maggie cackled. “Well, no trouble. You can both stay here the night, you and your horses.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Malcolm said, alarmed. “I think you scared them off —”

  “On the contrary,” Maggie said, wagging a finger at him. “I scared them back. I’m good, but I’m not that good. They’ll stay fifty feet from the house for a while, but I can’t guarantee any more than that. You’ll stay here til they slink back to their base camp at dawn.”

  That interested Nancy. “Base camp?”

  “Aye, somewhere around the Loch is where they’ll be keeping all the supplies they’ve thieved,” Maggie said, waving a hand. “Figure out where it is, send some of your men to root them out, problem solved. But it’ll take some finding. If they hear you coming, they’ll pull roots and run, and you’ll have to start all over again.”

  “We have scouts,” Malcolm said. “We can organize to track them.”

  Nancy frowned. “The men are already overtaxed as it is…”

  “Aye, but if we can get rid of these little terrors, that’ll be the end to it,” Malcolm said earnestly, taking a seat by the fire now that it seemed they were to be staying at Maggie’s until dawn.

  “Their numbers are far too great,” Maggie muttered, half to herself, still peering through the window. “Something must be dreadfully wrong at the burgh if this is what we’re contending with.”

  Chapter 44

  It was a long, strange night. Before too long, Maggie had stomped upstairs, leaving them behind. Moving carefully in the crowded yet somehow uncrowded hut, Nancy and Malcolm worked together to untack the horses, both of whom seemed rather nonplussed to be inside a human house for once. Nancy’s mare kept rolling her eyes at her curiously. Malcolm settled in a squashed armchair by the fire, and Nancy curled up in another, wishing she could sleep in Malcolm’s arms instead. But it wasn’t long before the aftermath of the adrenaline — plus the tiring day they’d both had — took over, sending them both into a deep sleep.

  “Nancy? It’s dawn.”

  She woke blearily to Malcolm shaking her gently, his brow furrowed. “Time to go.”

  “Mm. Dawn? Really?” She sat up, having slept surprisingly well in the armchair. Malcolm, too, was looking a little more rested, and she reached out to affectionately touch the side of his face — he smiled at the gesture, turning his head to kiss her hand in an instinctive gesture that made them both smile until the reality of the situation reasserted itself.

  “We need to warn Donal,” Malcolm said, turning to collect the saddles and bridles from where they’d stowed them under Maggie’s dining table. “Tell him about what Maggie said — about the numbers of goblins…”

  “Yes, and that they’re downright chasing people on the road, now,” Nancy said with a shudder. Had that been how poor Harold and the boys from the village had died? Running desperately, trying to get out ahead of a ravenous, chittering hoard like that? Nancy was so grateful she’d been on her horse, but even then, things could have gone a lot worse if Malcolm hadn’t been there with his sword to save her.

  They led the horses outside in the cool dawn air, coaxing them down the steps on the porch before tacking them up in the long grass by Maggie’s cottage. The woman came down after a few minutes, wrapped in the cardigan she always wore as though it were a dressing gown.

  “Thank you, Maggie,” Nancy said sincerely, moving back to take Maggie’s hands in her own. “You saved our lives last night.”

  “Oh, I know,” Maggie replied smugly, her eyes twinkling. “It’s what I do.”

  “You’re a treasure,” Malcolm said, moving up to pull the woman into a hug. She cackled as he lifted her off the ground, his considerable height making her short stature even more amusing by comparison, and when he set her carefully back down her cheeks were rosy with mirth.

  “The two of you sort those goblins out, you hear me? Far too many on this side of the burgh for my liking, for all that Nessie’s enjoying the extra nutrition.”

  “We will,” Malcolm promised, swinging up aboard his black gelding, who seemed eager to get going. “Promise.”

  “Careful of making a promise to a Faerie,” Maggie threatened jokingly as Nancy climbed aboard her horse too. “Before you know it, I’ll have claim to your firstborn. Watch him, Nancy.”

  Nancy blushed at the insinuation that Malcolm’s firstborn would also be her own… but after all, hadn’t Maggie already spied the chemistry between them? Still blushing, they rode off, headed for the castle. Malcolm looked sideways at her as they rode, concern in his eyes.

  “You feeling okay, Nancy?”

  “Oh, yeah. I’m fine. Just… that was a close one,” she admitted, taking a deep breath. “I can’t imagine how Harold and those poor young men must have felt…”

  “Don’t think about it too much,” Malcolm advised softly. “There’ll be time to mourn, but that time will come after we deal with these little nasties, and make sure they don’t ever hurt anyone again. You and Maggie both have my word on that. I don’t care what it means for my firstborn,” he added teasingly, and Nancy couldn’t help but laugh. Somehow, the idea of Maggie doing anything malicious with a baby was ridiculous… though perhaps she’d insist on teaching it about herbs, the way she was teaching
Kaitlyn. There are worse fates, Nancy thought to herself with a grin.

  They got back just after dawn, and Brendan was still on the gates, looking like a living dead man. He stared down at Malcolm and Nancy, a relieved smile breaking out across his face.

  “We were worried about you, Nancy!” he called, shaking his fist. “You didn’t come back last night —”

  “We had to stay at Maggie’s,” Nancy yelled back. “Tell you all about it when you’re in. Sorry to worry you!” She hoped very much that he hadn’t stayed up all night waiting for her — he didn’t look like he could spare the sleep, if she was honest. Dangerously tired. Sleep deprivation was a killer… she made a mental note to try to get Donal to pull his Captain of the Guard off the wall before something untoward happened to him.

  They made haste inside after they’d put their horses away — Nancy’s mare seemed delighted to be back home in her stall. Breakfast was being laid out in the dining hall — Nancy swiped a bowl of porridge on their way through. She hadn’t eaten since their rather underwhelming dinner with the third wheel that was Father Caleb, and she felt like she’d more than earned a hearty bowl of porridge to keep the wolf from the door. Donal was sitting with Anna, both of them speaking in low voices with smiles on their faces. Donal’s hand was resting on Anna’s belly, and Nancy knew without hearing a word that they were talking about their child. She sighed, knowing it was a rare pleasant conversation that they were about to interrupt with more bad news… but Malcolm seemed to understand that as well, and he shot her a sidelong look.

  “Let’s eat first.”

  They ate together, both of them putting away a great deal of porridge, and by the time they’d finished, Donal and Anna had approached them, their conversation clearly concluded. Malcolm swallowed his last mouthful of porridge and looked up at Donal.

  “I thought you were staying down in the village for the next little while,” Donal said, raising an eyebrow. His eyes were flicking rather quickly between Malcolm and Nancy — she wondered what conclusions he was drawing about Malcolm’s presence here, then hurried to explain.