On Highland Time

by Lexi Post

  Nessa harrumphed. “Ye were no better, staring at the laird. I be surprised ye could get two words past yer lips, ye were so in awe.”

  He held his breath at Nessa’s words and lowered his foot slowly to the packed earth again.

  “Just because I can appreciate a well-made man does not mean I was ‘in awe’ as you so gently put it. The fact is, I was surprised. He was much younger than I expected, and his eyes…”

  He raised his brows. So he was a well-made man, was he? He liked that. He peered into the shadows one more time, but all was still. He would discover who it was, and why they were sneaking about the castle yard.

  Nessa laughed. “I be glad ye came. Are ye ready to return?”

  Diana’s voice held a touch of accent, reminding him she was not from the area. “I am. But I need to retrieve my bundle from the bakery.”

  His first concern now was the safety of the two women. Moving away from the building, he strolled into their sight, pleased to find them fully clothed.

  Both ladies halted as his shadow fell between them and what little light was left in the sky. Nessa found her voice first. “Oh, my laird, ye scairt us mighty bad. Me heart is going to beat a path outside me chest!”

  He lowered his head a fraction. “I apologize, lass. I did not expect to find anyone about, especially not two women.”

  Diana did not appear as nervous as Nessa, so he studied her. She met his gaze directly. “We were washing up a bit. I had a long journey today, but if you need the water…”

  He shook his head. “Nay, I simply came to discover what noises I heard when I stepped into the yard.”

  She studied him in return, unafraid, but also disinterested, as if she looked upon a particularly intricate carving. His smile froze. He didn’t appreciate feeling like he was a piece of wood.

  Nessa’s chin rose, and she linked her arm around her new friend. “We were going to the bakery to gather Diana’s things. Then we will go inside. I promise.”

  “I will escort you.” The look of surprise on Diana’s face pleased him. He much preferred to see emotion from her than be the object of her examination. It made it easier to understand her. But his intention was less about her reactions and more about protection. Someone skulked about the courtyard when all inside the protection of his walls shouldn’t have anything to hide, and the bakery was a quarter way around the castle.

  Nessa appeared ready to protest, but Diana patted her arm and pulled her forward. “We appreciate the company. Perhaps you can explain to me why you challenged King Robert.”

  He clasped his hands behind his back as they walked but turned his head away to hide his smirk. He did not wish her to see his amusement at her ignorance. “It is simply a way for Robert to show the men he is worthy of his position, nothing more.”

  Diana’s brows furrowed. “But you’ll win because you’re a better swordsman. How will that help the king prove his worth?”

  Suspicious, he stopped and the women halted to face him. “And what would ye know of swordsmanship, lass?”

  She met his gaze and opened her mouth, but quickly looked away. “Enough to know you are a better swordsman than the king.”

  Knowledge. He’d seen it in her eyes. This woman was more complicated than she appeared. That piqued his interest, but in too many ways. On one hand, he wanted her beneath him in his bed. On the other, he was concerned about her intentions in regard to the king.

  Footsteps came from the west tower, and he swiveled in that direction, the women safely behind him. As the person drew closer, he relaxed. “Why are you about, Evan?”

  The man gave a curt nod, his serious brown eyes scanning the three of them. “I am in need of Nessa. If that is permissible?”

  He nodded. “Of course. Nessa?”

  Evan’s stance relaxed.

  Nessa disengaged her arm from Diana’s and joined Evan. She stood close to him, but didn’t touch him.

  He was pleased the two of them respected each other enough to wait for a proper ceremony, that is, if Evan ever gained the courage to ask the lass to marry him.

  Nessa hesitated. “What about Diana?”

  “I will help her get settled for the night. I think if Evan needs you, that is more important.”

  Evan bowed his head once and turned back toward the castle, his stride purposeful. Nessa chatted nonstop at his side.

  “They will have a good marriage one day.” Diana’s voice was low and soft, wistful.

  He turned toward her and sighed. “If Evan ever asks her. It’s been a year of this.”

  She smirked and raised one brow. “I think if he continues to find Nessa in your company, he will propose very soon.”

  Torr stepped closer, the scent of heather soap with mint overtones greeting him. “Are you suggesting I feign an interest in the lass?”

  “No.” She turned and began to stroll toward the bakery once more. “Nessa only has eyes for Evan. But if you talked to her a little more, I do think he might finally ask her.”

  He touched her arm, stopping her. “Are ye already arranging marriages for my clan members?”

  She shook her head and met his gaze. “No, but I know true love when I see it.”

  “And how do ye know true love so well?” Curious, he stepped closer once again.

  Her whole body shrank inward and she looked away. “My parents.” She took a deep breath as if to steady herself. “They loved each other until their dying breath.”

  He had been toying with her, but at her sudden honest sorrow, he wanted nothing more than to comfort her. He couldn’t resist. He tilted her head up, but the darkening sky made seeing her features almost impossible now. “Ye miss them.”

  She nodded against his finger where he could feel her jaw tense against tears. He knew her loss, the emptiness it left in one’s soul. Without a thought, he brought his arms around her.

  She let him hold her, but she didn’t relax against his shoulder, though her throat worked to swallow what he was sure could have been sobs if she allowed it.

  He appreciated her effort. He’d seen too many of his clanswomen shed tears for lost husbands and sons. Each time he was grateful his own mother had not lived to see the decimation of her family.

  As Diana’s breathing slowed, he noticed other things about her. That she was tall, he had accepted upon meeting her, but that her face was at a perfect height to kiss her lips, he recognized now. That her body was warm and full of curves which fit against his nicely, he also became aware of, never mind her clean, warm scent that made him think of heather and mint.

  She pulled away, and he let his arms fall to his sides.

  “I’m sorry. I was very close to my parents, but usually I can talk about them. I think I’m just tired.”

  He stared at her in the darkness. “Aye, that makes sense. Let us get yer belongings, and ye can bed down in the Great Hall with the others.” Though he would prefer she bed with him so he could feel the full length of her beneath the warmth of the woolens. But he couldn’t trust her yet.

  Her voice broke into his thoughts. “I think that would be best.”

  She did? Oh aye, the Great Hall to bed down. “Right. Shall we?”

  They crossed the rest of the yard in silence, their footsteps muffled by the hardened earth. When they reached the bakery building, he opened the door so she could retrieve her belongings and waited for her. He kept part of his attention on her and the other part listening for sounds around the castle.

  “I have everything now.” She stood next to him in the doorway, close but not touching. Her softness teased him. He couldn’t resist. He lowered his head, but she ducked and moved outside.

  She glanced at him over her shoulder. “I better get back inside or Nessa will wonder what happened to me.”

  He smirked. Smart lass. “Of course.” Smarter than him at the moment. He watched her until she pulled the heavy side door open, then he lost his smile and peered into the darkness. Now to discover who lurked in the shadows of his keep. />
  …

  Diana lay on her woolen blanket, thankful to Zania, TWI’s seamstress, for adding it to her meager bundle of clothing. Zania was far older than any of the agents, but was a wiz with a needle. Like the rest of TWI’s support staff, she had her own special ability and hers was creating material from whatever time period they needed. The woman also liked men…a lot. Her long straight black hair and flashing dark eyes often caught her the man of her choice. It was either that or her magical laugh, which drew men to her.

  Folding the blanket into thirds and using her second leine as a pillow, Diana made the stone floor of the castle almost comfortable, with emphasis on almost. She never slept well when on an assignment, and the firmness of the floor beneath didn’t help. These were probably the most rudimentary sleeping conditions she’d ever had to deal with.

  Mouse, one of her fellow agents, would be so much better at handling a mission this far back in time. Mouse wasn’t her real name, but it was all she’d tell them. For some reason, the former librarian held a grudge against her, but she had no idea why. She actually admired how well Mouse was able to fit into times deep in the past, like 1477 Spain just before the Inquisition was established and 1065 England before William the Conqueror invaded. Mouse loved going as far back as possible, as if she didn’t like the time she’d been born in.

  Maybe she should ask for Mouse to take over. Go-Lucky would lecture her on the fact that all of them were supposed to handle any time period and that her fellow agent would have less than two weeks to fulfill the mission. Jules didn’t dare risk any of them running into each other in the past and kept track of who had been where. That’s why they all were trained to go to any time within the district, which covered America and Europe.

  Jules’s ability to telepathically communicate with them didn’t extend across time periods. Luckily, her boss also couldn’t see what they were doing in history or present day, and that’s where Go-Lucky came in. He was, for lack of a better term, their handler. He could contact Jules, but they couldn’t. That was his special ability. According to him, they all had one that he said was a result of their time-travel gene, what he called a defense, though how her ability to calm people was a defense, she didn’t know. So far, the only person who had benefited from it was her fellow agent, Katz, during her nightmares, and a Revolutionary smuggler’s wife she had comforted after he’d been arrested. If she asked to have Mouse take this mission, Jules wouldn’t be happy, but Go-Lucky would smooth the switch over with Jules. He always did.

  What she’d really like taken care of was her insomnia while on missions. It had to be the middle of the night and she was wide awake. Two wall torches had been left lit when everyone had bedded down. Looking around the Great Hall, she couldn’t believe how few people actually filled it, but with twenty men gone, many choosing to sleep outside in the mild summer air, and those in the village, there were only a dozen men and women scattered among the tables, benches, and floor. Her home on the New England coast could easily have given every clan member in residence their own bedroom with a soft bed. She grew up privileged, but not spoiled, and her year of training before her first assignment stood her in good stead.

  Laird MacPherson, however, was not one of those sleeping in the Great Hall, and neither was Kerr or King Robert. From what she understood, it was typical to have only one or two private bedrooms during these early years. Secretly, she was glad. She didn’t want to have the opportunity to watch the laird of the castle sleep. He was far too attractive as it was, and her lack of love life since joining TWI two years ago didn’t help. She’d never been interested in a man from another time period, but Torr was the epitome of male. She was quite sure every single one of her sister agents would rate him a ten.

  For her own sanity, she needed to keep her distance. She had to ensure he died in the upcoming battle as he had originally. That was rule number one and the top priority of every foray back in time: change history back. The less she knew about him, the better.

  As she reviewed the faces of those she’d met, Torr MacPherson’s as he told her he was sorry for her loss dominated her mind. Her instincts said the man was honorable, but history wasn’t about good and bad. It was simply about what had been.

  She rolled over and her bladder reminded her she wasn’t used to drinking ale. She had no idea of the time since there were no windows in the hall, but it didn’t matter. Quietly, she made her way around Nessa and took the back hallway to the garderobe, what served as a toilet in a medieval castle such as Gealach. When she turned the corner, a very short figure stepped away from the wall.

  “About time you got up.”

  She swallowed a shout of surprise before she spoke in a furious whisper. “Go-Lucky, you scared the life out of me! What the Dickens are you doing here already?”

  The little man lowered his straight orange brows, his hazel eyes sparking with irritation. “I’ve been here for hours waiting for you to wake up. Since when do you sleep most of the night?”

  She sat on the floor to give her adrenaline a chance to dissipate as well as to keep their conversation private. “I haven’t. This is my fourth time awake, but I didn’t have to use the garderobe”—she pointed behind him—“until now. Why didn’t you wake me?”

  He shook his head, but his fine straight ginger-colored hair barely moved. “Too many people. Too risky.”

  “I guess you’re right, but why are you here? I haven’t been here twenty-four hours yet. Has something happened at Stonehaven?” Her home, though a mansion, was now effectively in the middle of a slum. Not the best place for everyone inside.

  Go-Lucky leaned against the wall next to her. His black polo shirt revealed his large forearms covered with freckles. His black slacks were probably tailored Ralph Lauren and proved that unlike others with dwarfism, he wasn’t stocky, but evenly proportioned. The little man was always dressed in the height of fashion. Even his bright goatee was trimmed to perfection. He waved her concerns aside. “Everything is fine inside the mansion, though three people have overdosed outside, but that will be fixed once you finish here.”

  “That’s a relief. So why are you here so soon?”

  “The Time Keeper was able to discover why the death of this laird changed history.”

  She tensed in anticipation. This was important. “What did Rafter find?”

  “It appears that with MacPherson’s death, his younger brother turns berserker and decimates the enemy, which weakens the English king’s support.”

  She cocked her head. “That makes sense.”

  “But there’s more.”

  Go-Lucky wouldn’t tell her until he was good and ready, and the more curious she appeared, the slower the information would be revealed.

  He pretended great interest in his manicured fingernails. “So do the women in this time period care for shorter men?”

  Her heart softened. Go-Lucky’s track record with women wasn’t the best. “I don’t know, but it wouldn’t matter. You know the rules. I don’t think Jules would be happy to hear you asked.”

  Go-Lucky shrugged. “What Jules doesn’t know…”

  She frowned at him.

  “What? It’s not my fault Jules can’t use telepathy across time periods and has to send me to communicate.”

  “And I suppose it’s not your fault you’re the only male in our district able to time travel, but that doesn’t make it right for you to look for love in another time period. Rule number five: Don’t make friends.”

  The man’s shoulders sagged and his voice turned to a whine. “It’s more than friendship I’m looking for.”

  He was too good at engendering sympathy. Everyone knew Go-Lucky’s main goal in life was to find his true love. That was about all they knew, except that he hated his mother, but beyond that, he was as much a mystery to her and her fellow agents as Jules. However, Go-Lucky looked out for “his girls” and for once she wished she could do something for him. She felt like a louse to stand in the way of his quest for lo
ve. “Hey.”

  He returned his gaze to her, and she winked. “If you tell me why the laird’s death is important, I promise to check for you and let you know if any of these ladies prefer smaller men.”

  A slow grin lit his face. “Shorter, not smaller.” His wiggling eyebrows had her clamping her teeth together to stifle her chuckle. Men!

  He stood straight again and took on the air of a college professor. “As it turns out, after this MacPherson dies, King Robert is so pissed off, he makes a push forward and wins a few battles. Next thing you know, he defeats the English, and Scotland remains its own country, at least until James VI/I, depending on the country you’re referencing.”

  She stared hard at Go-Lucky. “So it’s Torr’s death that pushes King Robert past some kind of breaking point?”

  He shrugged. “From what Jules can figure out, when the Disruptor kept this laird from dying, the brother never showed his military abilities, so the king never believed he had the right men on his side. Plus, instead of becoming fed up with his loyal followers being killed, the king gave up the fight when his wife was released into her father’s custody. See?”

  Wow, she did. It all made perfect sense, at least to a former psychology major. Torr’s death had spurred on the king, but when the Disruptor kept him alive, King Robert gave up and so lost Scotland to England. “That’s very helpful. Thank you. Was there anything else Jules wished me to know?”

  “No, but Katz said to tell you to bring her back a souvenir.”

  She smiled. Katz knew they weren’t allowed to do that, but every once in a while she asked. The woman probably had her own stash of gold or jewelry hidden in her room. It was well known she’d grown up able to pick both locks and pockets.

  But she would never break the rules, and Katz knew it. Her fellow agent just tried to tempt her. “Tell her I’ll be sure to.”

  Go-Lucky’s eyes grew round before he realized she was joking. “Right. I’ll tell her. Now I need to get back. Jules wants me to check in on Mouse. It’s been over two weeks and you know how she loses track of time.”