Highlander's Challenge

by Jo Barrett

  So many times since she arrived, she had placed herself at risk, and with each new threat he thought he had truly lost her. But this way, he knew she was alive—somewhere in time, and hopefully out of danger once she saved her friend.

  He grinned tightly with the thought. Aye, she would save her, and many more like her. That was what his wife did, she saved lives—and souls.

  He spun on his heels and trudged through the wood to the road where he’d left his horse. Ian followed without a word. Riding swiftly to the castle, he could think of nothing but how much he wanted to tear something apart. His anguish was far beyond containment.

  He slid from his mount then bounded up the keep’s stairs in twos, meeting Elspeth at the top. He looked into her gentle eyes, full of worry for his bride. It was she who had told him of Amelia slipping away from the celebration.

  “I’ve no time for explanations. She has returned tae her home. You were right, Aunt. ‘Tis tae far for me tae travel.”

  Hurrying up the stairs to Amelia’s chamber, he retrieved her gift, having left it behind in his haste to reach her before she disappeared from his life. Her blade would always be at his side since the woman of his heart could not be.

  The men gathering in the bailey, ready for battle, grew quiet as he joined them. He led them to Mull Bay in silence. The Campbells would taste his wrath, his grief. They would not take from him the only thing he had left. His home.

  ****

  Tuck blinked away the stars and for a heart-stopping moment thought she was still with Colin. Then she realized the massive figure in front of her was a statue. Not her husband, not her love.

  She looked down at the gravel path beneath her wet boots, a little confused to not be standing in the spring. Apparently she hadn’t found the exact spot but at least she had the right spring.

  “Jenny,” she rasped.

  Taking off in a fevered run, she rushed down the statue walk, through the ornate garden to the fountain. Rounding the hedge, she came to a screeching halt at the sight of Jenny giving the kidnapper a few good whacks with her purse. He toppled over to the ground out cold.

  Several security guards rushed across the small courtyard as Tuck shook off her amazement and hurried to Jenny’s side.

  “This man assaulted my client. I’d like him held for the authorities,” she said, snapping her bodyguard ID in their faces.

  One man nodded as they hauled the man to his feet. “We’ll take him tae the manager’s office.”

  “Fine. We’ll be there shortly.” She turned to Jenny as they carted the man off. “What the hell do you have in that thing?” she asked, pointing at Jenny’s purse.

  She blinked her big brown eyes, then smiled sheepishly. “A few pennies?”

  Scowling, Tuck snatched her bag and shoved her hand inside. Her mouth fell open as she pulled out several rolls of pennies. “How many wishes were you planning on making?”

  Jenny shrugged and adjusted her glasses. “Considering the number of wishing wells in Europe, I thought it best to be prepared.”

  Tuck handed her back her purse, shaking her head with a low chuckle that grew to all out laughter. Tears leaked from her eyes, a mix of bittersweet relief and utter torment. She didn’t have to come back. Jenny hadn’t needed her to save her after all.

  “Are you feeling all right, Tuck?” Jenny asked warily.

  She cleared her constricted throat. “I’m okay. Come on, let’s get this over with. I want to get out of here.” She took Jenny’s arm and escorted her inside, unable to bear the sight of that damn fountain any longer.

  After a lot of paperwork, interviews, and a phone call to Jenny’s father, they were finally headed back to their hotel.

  Tuck watched the Isle of Mull grow smaller as the ferry carried them away. Hidden in her vest pocket, she ran her thumb over her ring where it sat on her finger, feeling a small bit of comfort in its existence. It hadn’t been a dream. He’d been real, and she missed him more than she thought possible. A part of her was dead inside, empty.

  Jenny slipped up beside her, and she swiped away the remnants of her tears before she could see.

  “Are you sure you’re feeling all right?” Jenny asked. “You haven’t been acting quite yourself.”

  Tuck forced a smile to her lips. “I’m just tired. I, uh, guess I’m catching a cold or something.”

  “Tuck, you don’t get tired nor do you ever get sick.”

  “Look, I’m fine. Okay? I don’t need a mother hen.”

  She spun around and went up on top to see if she could catch a glimpse of Arreyder Castle in the distance. It would be the last time she ever saw the massive stone structure. She could never go back. It would kill her to be where she wanted to be, but not when.

  Hours later, after writing up a formal report for Jenny’s father, she stood in her room trying to concentrate on her exercises. It beat the hell out of crying herself to sleep, but it wasn’t working.

  Disgusted, she grabbed her wallet, shoved it into her back pocket, and made her way downstairs to the hotel bar. The thought of getting good and drunk held definite appeal.

  “A shot of your best whiskey,” she said, taking a seat at the bar.

  The tumbler appeared before her in a matter of seconds. She hefted the glass and tossed the contents down her throat. Her eyes teared up a little as it burned on the way down, but that was nothing compared to what her thoughts were doing to her insides. She’d never feel the same way again, but she wouldn’t trade what little time they’d had together to relieve the pain. Although she could try and dampen it a bit.

  She slapped the glass down. “Another,” she said with a nod, and again she tossed it back. She wondered how many it would take to make her numb.

  “White wine, please,” a soft voice said beside her.

  No need to look, she knew who it was. “Leave me alone, Jenny,” she said wearily.

  “Not until you tell me what’s going on.” Jenny smiled her thanks to the bartender and took a sip. “You’ve been acting strangely all afternoon, and I know for a fact you don’t drink.”

  “I do now.” She waved at her glass, and another whiskey appeared.

  “Considering what happened this afternoon and knowing your background, I’ve concluded that your current behavior has nothing to do with the incident involving that man.”

  “How very astute of you,” Tuck said, and sipped her drink this time. She felt Jenny’s eyes on her, studying her like a specimen. Sniffing derisively, she said, “Hell. Why not? Maybe if I tell someone, it won’t seem so unreal.” Or maybe it will hurt all the more. Clenching her teeth, she looked at her client. “What I’m going to tell you goes no further, understood?”

  “Perfectly.”

  She shook her head with a wry grin. “But you’re not going to believe a word of it, so I guess it doesn’t really matter.”

  Jenny cleared her throat and adjusted her glasses. “I assume this has something to do with the fact that you are now wearing a ring I know you didn’t have before. That your hair is approximately one point two inches longer than it was when we left this morning, and that your boots were wet instead of the seat of your jeans as they should have been after the altercation with the assailant.”

  A low chuckle slipped from her lips. “You’re a hoot, Jenny. I gotta tell you. But yeah, it has to do with all that.” She took a sip of her whiskey then said, “I was that water sprite in your story.”

  She cut a glance at her client, expecting some reaction, but got only an expectant stare. The woman wanted details, and she wouldn’t be satisfied until she’d heard it all.

  Taking a deep breath, Tuck let it all spill out. “I fell in the fountain and ended up in fifteen eighty-four. I was there a couple of months, which explains the longer hair. My boots were wet because the only way back was through a spring, the fountain having not been built yet. As for the ring, I met and married—” she cleared the pain from her throat as the light caught on the metal around her finger. “I married C
olin MacLean,” she added softly.

  “Fascinating,” Jenny breathed. “May I see the ring?”

  Puzzled that it sounded as if Jenny believed her, Tuck pulled off the ring and handed it to her. Her bare finger turned icy. Just like the rest of her.

  Jenny cocked her head as she shifted the band in the light for a closer look. “This is a beautifully crafted piece. At the very least sixteenth century, but I suspect much older. I surmise this ring was handed down from generation to generation several times.”

  Propping her elbows on the bar, Tuck clenched her hands into fists and bit down hard on her knuckles. “Yeah, he said something about it belonging to his mother.” She desperately tried to hold back her tears, but there was no stopping them. “I need some air,” she choked out.

  Tossing some cash on the bar, she sped out the door into the night. Breaking into a run, she fled down the street to the water. She couldn’t run from the past, from the decisions she’d made. She had to live with them, but they were killing her.

  Her stomach slammed into the railing at the edge of the walk along the shore. She screamed with pain-filled rage, then buried her face in her hands and sobbed. How could she live the rest of her life without him, knowing that he was dead to this world, this time?

  Small delicate fingers pulled her hands away from her face. Jenny looked at her with soulful eyes then slipped her arms around her. Tuck hesitated only a moment before resting her head on Jenny’s shoulder. For the first time in years, she bawled like a baby.

  ****

  “Colin, damn your eyes, man! Are you trying to kill me?” Ian demanded.

  Colin lowered his claymore until the tip touched the ground. His other hand shook with the fierce grip he had on Amelia’s blade. “You shouldna come up on a mon that way!”

  Ian growled a curse beneath his breath. “Have you not noticed that we’ve won, you bloody Scot? The Campbells are defeated.”

  Colin blinked a time or two to clear the stinging sweat from his eyes. The Campbells were laying down their arms. The smell of blood permeated the air, as did the sounds of injured men. He idly wondered how many he’d killed.

  His rage at losing the one who held his heart had gripped him fiercely. He wanted others to hurt as he was hurting.

  Ian clasped a hand on his shoulder. “‘Tis over, my friend.” He pointed to his father and William where they stood speaking with the MacKenzie.

  The Campbell laird had already retreated to his boat. The men left behind would be sent along as well, but with a warning never to set foot on the Isle of Mull again.

  His gaze fell to her blade still clutched in his fist. No longer black, but red with Campbell blood. He shrugged off his friend’s hand and strode to his horse.

  Ian matched him stride for stride. “Dare I ask where you are going?”

  He didn’t bother to answer, knowing his friend would follow, watching his back as she’d bade him to.

  The ride was not long, but painful. He guided his horse through the trees to the little spring where he’d last held her, mere hours ago. Once he slid off his mount, he moved to the water’s edge and washed away the blood. Crisp and clean, he scooped handfuls of it up and doused his head and body, wishing to God it would numb the pain in his soul.

  Had she been in time to save the young woman? Did she remember him in her world or had her trip through time stolen him from her thoughts?

  He sat by the spring for long hours, watching the light flash across the water until it grew late.

  “‘Tis time to go back,” Ian said quietly. “There is work still to be done and some celebration, I’ll wager.”

  “Aye.” He rose and mounted his horse. “But I dinnae think there is enough whiskey in all of Scotland tae ease me this night.”

  “We shall see, but before you slide too deep in your cups, I wish to hear the tale.”

  Colin nodded and explained what he could, telling him what his love had told him as they made their way back to Arreyder.

  “Amazing,” Ian said with awe. “Perhaps she will return one day. Knowing Amelia, if there is a way, she will find it.”

  “I dinnae know, but I can hope.”

  Chapter Twenty-five

  “Wake up!”

  Tuck’s entire body jerked and bounced. She peeled open one eye to find Jenny jumping up and down on the bed. “Go away,” she grumbled, and rolled over to go back to sleep the sleep of the dead.

  Dead drunk, you mean , a voice murmured in the back of her hazy brain.

  After bawling her eyes out on Jenny’s shoulder, she returned to the bar, bought a bottle of whiskey, and retired to her room to complete her sojourn into an alcohol-induced oblivion.

  “Wake up, Tuck. You’ve got to get up. We have things to do, and we’ve only got six months,” Jenny said, her voice unusually excited.

  “If you don’t quit jumping on the bed, I’m going to baptize you with the contents of my stomach.” She moaned although the bed had stopped moving. Maybe she’d better head for the bathroom while she still could.

  Stumbling to her feet, she felt her way blindly across the room. The cool clean porcelain called to her like a long lost friend.

  Several minutes later, Jenny sighed as she handed her a damp washcloth. “I told you not to do it, but you refused to listen to my thorough explanation of what alcohol does to the body in such massive doses.”

  “Yeah, well, hindsight’s twenty-twenty. At least I slept.” She washed her face, then pressed the cloth to her throat as she settled back against the wall, her legs stretched out before her on the floor.

  “No, you were unconscious. There is a distinct difference.”

  “Unconscious is good. As a matter of fact, it would be really good if I could be unconscious some more.” She climbed to her feet, grabbing the sink for balance. “Why don’t you go find a museum to visit or something? I’m going back to bed.”

  “But you can’t,” Jenny whined, making Tuck flinch.

  “Please, drop it to a normal level. Subnormal, if possible.”

  “Tuck, you’re not listening. We have to prepare you for your trip back.”

  Tuck crawled between the sheets and sighed as she laid her head on the pillow. “I don’t have much to pack. Didn’t ever really take it out of my bags.”

  With a huff, Jenny flopped down on the side of the bed. Tuck grimaced at the sudden bouncing.

  “I’m talking about getting back to Colin,” Jenny said.

  One eye popped open and located her tormentor. She was serious. Letting out a long puff of air, she said, “There is no going back, Jenny. You know the end of the story.”

  “That has no bearing on this.”

  It hurt to scowl, but she managed. “Spit it out. In simple English.”

  “You traveled back in time and returned to the twenty-first century on the solstice. In theory you should be able to do it again.”

  Tuck propped herself up on her elbows, ignoring the pounding behind her eyes. “You said six months.”

  “Winter solstice. If my calculations are correct, you should be able to travel on either of those days. Nighttime, of course, after the sun sets for the winter solstice, and daylight hours for the summer solstice. However, we can attempt to send you back before sunset to prove or disprove the theory.”

  Tuck eased back down to her pillow, her gaze focusing on the ceiling. To go back, to be with him again, to live out her life as his wife—it didn’t sound believable. She chewed her lip, trying not to get her hopes up.

  Jenny tapped her ring where it sat on her finger. “You have nothing to lose.”

  Yes, she did. The last of her sanity. If she tried and failed, it would destroy her once and for all.

  But if she didn’t try and there was the slightest chance…“I’ll do it,” she said, her heart racing with the possibility.

  Jenny snatched back the covers. “Good, then get out of bed. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

  “Hey!” She grabbed her aching head, really w
ishing she hadn’t yelled. “I’ve got six months,” she hissed through clenched teeth. “What other kind of work could I possibly have other than sleeping off this hangover?”

  “You don’t want to go back empty-handed, do you? If I had the inclination to live in the late sixteenth century, there would be a few items I would think were necessary to take with me. Items not available in that time period. However, you can’t exactly drive a car into the fountain at Raghnall Castle.”

  “Okay, so I pack a bag—a backpack. That won’t take me six months. Now, can I go back to sleep?”

  She pulled the covers up to her neck and snuggled onto her side, willing the image of Colin to the forefront of her mind. She could dream happy dreams for six months. Then she would know how the rest of her life was going to turn out. Like hell or like heaven.

  “Tuck,” Jenny huffed loudly. “A backpack is a fine idea, one made of leather so as not to be too conspicuous, but you still have work to do. We have to fill your head with every piece of knowledge we can that will aid you in that time period.” She jerked the covers away again. “Consider this reveille, Sergeant Tucker.”

  With a groan, she crawled out of bed, but only because she knew she’d dream of Colin when she went to bed later that night. And because Jenny wasn’t about to leave her new project alone.

  The weeks dragged by as her self-appointed professor bombarded her with more and more information. Jenny had her commit to memory significant events in time and the lead players, so that she could use the information to keep her new family safe.

  That part wasn’t so bad. Tuck definitely saw the advantage to knowing who was on which side and who would come out on top after a war. It was the rest of the work that drove her batty.

  She stuffed her brain with a plethora of topics from agriculture to zoology, and prodded her through a rigorous medical program, doubling her knowledge and skills. She prayed she wouldn’t have to draw on the latter knowledge often. It was going to be tough enough knowing she couldn’t just run down to the corner drugstore for cough syrup, or hightail it to the hospital for a broken bone. No x-rays, no penicillin, no surgeons.