Spirit of a Highlander: A Scottish Time Travel Romance (Arch Through Time Book 7)

by Katy Baker

  He suddenly thought of the day it all began, the day that changed his life forever.

  "We should evacuate," Finlay said as Logan sat with Eoin and his brothers in the laird's study at the top of the tower. "Empty the town. Send the people to shelter with the MacKinnons."

  Camdan looked up, anger flashing in his steely gray eyes. "That's yer advice, little brother? That we should run like cowards? That we should give up everything we've fought for and allow the Irish to take our lands?"

  Finlay met his brother's stare calmly. He was never ruffled by Camdan’s temper. "Nay, brother. I say we save as many of our people as we can. Everyone not able to fight—the women, children, the old and sick, they should go. Everyone else stays. If we abandon the lower town and defend the castle, we should be able to hold them off."

  "For how long?" Logan interjected. "If we give up the lower town, they'll use it as a base. They'll lay siege to the castle and starve us out."

  "I’ll not sit here like a rat in a trap!" growled Camdan. "I say we ride out head on and meet them. Drive the bastards back into the sea and burn their ships so they can never plague us again!"

  Logan sighed. The same old arguments. They'd been going around in circles for hours. It came down to one thing: they didn't have enough warriors. The MacAuley clan was large and powerful but the raiders coming across the sea numbered larger still. Rumor was that there had been strife in Ireland and that many young warriors had been displaced, swelling the ranks of the raider captains. Now, having plundered their homeland for all they could get, their eyes were firmly set on MacAuley lands.

  He sighed. “Aye, we’ll make a good fight of it and take many of them with us. Perhaps we’ll even cull them enough to give the MacKinnon time to send to the king for reinforcements. It’s the best we can hope for.”

  Eoin looked up from the book he was reading. His eyes were red-rimmed and Logan guessed he’d been up all night again, poring over his books and old documents. “What if it isnae? What if there’s another way? Something that will wipe the raiders out before the battle is even joined?”

  Camdan laughed. “Have ye found something in yer books that will give us power over the weather, cousin? If ye could drum up a storm to drown the bastards before they even set foot on our shores that would be mighty welcome.”

  Eoin smiled thinly. “Nay, I dinna have that power.” He tapped his book. “But I know of something that might.”

  And so he’d told them of what his research had led him to: a way to ally with the Fae. Camdan had been horrified but Finlay had been more open to the idea and after much arguing and debating Logan and Camdan had agreed to try. After all, what did they have to lose? If it didn’t work, they’d be in the same position as before and they’d all likely be dead by sundown tomorrow, their people with them.

  But if it did work, they had a chance to save their clan. Their lives were a small price to pay for such deliverance.

  Logan snapped back to the present. A cold hand seemed to grip his heart and squeeze it. Eoin. He had been the one to broker the pact with the Fae. He had been the one who had taken over the lairdship from Logan. The man was a snake who would do anything, use anybody, to get what he wanted.

  And I brought Thea to him, Logan thought with a sickening lurch of his stomach. I have to get her away from him.

  He shifted position so that the light shone directly on the manacles and began picking at the lock with the bent piece of metal. He worked diligently, brow creased in concentration, and was rewarded when the manacles suddenly sprang open. He tugged them off his wrists and threw them and their chains onto the floor.

  Tucking the lock-pick up his shirt-sleeve, he padded across to the closed door and put his ear to it. He could hear nothing from the other side but he knew it would not belong before the guards returned to collect his crockery. He grabbed the tray and stood behind the door, settling in to wait.

  From the movement of the little patch of sunlight on the floor of his cell, Logan guessed that just over an hour had passed when he finally heard footsteps outside his cell. A key rattled in the lock. Logan tensed then, as the door swung open, he leapt forward, smashed the tray into the startled face of the first guard and followed it with a swift elbow to the temple that laid him out cold. The second guard staggered back with a startled cry and tried to draw his sword. Logan didn’t let him. He grabbed the man’s arm, yanked him forward, landed a knee into the man’s stomach that doubled him over, then sent him crashing to the ground with an upper-cut into his jaw.

  Logan quickly took one of the swords then dragged the unconscious men into his cell and locked it. Hefting the sword in one hand, he padded carefully along the length of the dungeon. He might have escaped his cell but before he could get out of the dungeon, he would have to get through the guard room where at least five guards were stationed at all times.

  On cat’s paws he rounded a corner and came in sight of the guard room door. It stood ajar and he could hear raucous laughter coming from within. Logan was grateful for their carelessness.

  He crept up to the door. The guards were gathered around an empty beer barrel playing a game of cards and they didn’t notice as Logan stepped noiselessly into the guardroom. Then suddenly one of them looked up, shouted a curse, and the guards sprang into motion, scattering and reaching for weapons.

  Logan leapt forward, cracked one on the head with the hilt of his sword and grabbed another by his shirt and hurled him into the beer barrel, sending it and the card game flying. That left three men standing and they’d recovered from their initial shock now. They spread out in a line, swords drawn, blocking Logan’s escape.

  “Dinna do anything stupid,” one of them, an older man, said. Logan knew him. His name was Jamie and he’d been a member of the garrison since Logan was a boy. “There’s nay way out of here, lad. Dinna force us to kill ye.”

  “Stand aside,” Logan growled. “I dinna want to hurt any of ye.”

  Jamie shook his head. “This willnae end well for ye. There are three of us and only one of ye. Do ye really fancy those odds?”

  The man was right. Logan would be hard pressed to take down three of them in such a confined space but he would try anyway. He tensed, preparing to spring, when a voice suddenly rang out.

  “Leave him be, damn you!”

  Surprised, the guards glanced behind and Logan took his chance. He sprang at Jamie, bringing his sword down in a sweeping arc and sending the older man’s weapon clattering to the floor.

  “Sorry, friend,” he murmured before punching him in the stomach and sweeping his legs out from under him. Jamie thudded to the floor, groaning.

  The other two guards were fighting the newcomer. Logan couldn’t get a good look at his benefactor but he waded in, grabbed one of the guards by the shirt, yanked him around to face him, and cracked him on the skull with his sword hilt. The guard collapsed without a sound and his benefactor dispatched the last remaining guard with a swinging haymaker to the chin.

  Only then did Logan get a good look at the newcomer. With a start he realized it was Rhodry. His friend doubled over with his hands on his knees, breathing heavily.

  “Oh Lord,” he wheezed. “I’m very out of practice.”

  “Rhodry!” Logan cried. “What in God’s name are ye doing here, man?” He strode over and pulled him into an embrace.

  “Looking for ye,” Rhodry replied. “Although I have to say I didnae expect to find ye escaping from the laird’s dungeon.” He looked around at the fallen guards. “Lord above, what have we done? We are going to be in serious trouble for this!”

  Logan placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder, forcing him to look at him. “Why did ye come looking for me? What’s happened? Why aren’t ye with Anna?”

  To Logan’s surprise Rhodry broke into a grin. “That’s why I came to find ye. Anna has awoken! She seems a little tired but Ailsa reckons she’ll make a full recovery. “

  For a moment Logan just stared at him. Anna was awake? Recovered? But ho
w? She’d been cursed. Hadn’t she?

  “What’s wrong, man?” Rhodry asked. “Ye’ve gone as pale as milk.”

  Logan shook his head. “I’m fine. Just a little taken aback—and pleased of course. That’s mighty fine news.”

  Rhodry nodded. “I rode to yer croft to tell ye but was surprised to find it empty. Then I bumped into old Gregor and he told me he saw ye riding to Dun Ringill in a hurry and that Irene MacAskill had been spotted here. That’s why I came: to let Thea know that Anna is well before she left us to go home.” His face folded into a scowl. “But when I came up to the castle, they told me that Thea was riding with Laird Eoin and that ye’d been thrown into the dungeon. Well, I didnae like the sound of that so I came here meaning to talk to the guards and find some answers. I thought it must all be some misunderstanding but here ye are breaking out of the cells. Logan, what is going on?”

  Logan waved his question away. “What do ye mean Thea is riding with Eoin?”

  A troubled expression crossed Rhodry’s face. “That’s what they told me at the castle gates and the whole town is full of the gossip.”

  “What gossip?”

  Rhodry shifted uncomfortably. “That Laird Eoin means to wed Thea.”

  Logan staggered, steadying himself on the wall. “That bastard,” he breathed. “I’ll kill him. I’ll cut his black heart from his chest.”

  Rhodry’s eyebrows rose in alarm. “Logan, are ye going to tell me what is going on? Why would Laird Eoin want to marry Thea? And why would he throw ye in jail?”

  Logan straightened and looked at his friend. It was time he told him the truth. “Rhodry, do ye trust me?”

  “Of course. Ye are my closest friend.”

  Logan drew a deep breath. “Laird Eoin is my cousin. I was laird before him but I stepped aside in his favor. This was my castle, my dungeon, my land—once.”

  Rhodry barked a laugh. “Dinna be ridiculous! Ye are a blacksmith!”

  “Think, Rhodry. Can ye remember the laird before Eoin?”

  “Of course! He was...he was...” Rhodry’s brow furrowed. “Actually, no. I canna seem to recall anyone before Eoin.”

  “That’s because there is a Fae enchantment laid on me—one instigated by my cousin.” He held his friend’s gaze, willing him to believe him.

  Rhodry stared at him. Then he said slowly, “Ailsa’s mother is always going on about the Fae. She still leaves milk and a slice of pie out for them sometimes. I always thought her old stories were a load of horse dung. Ye mean to tell me they are true? That the Fae are real?”

  “Aye,” Logan said quietly. “They are real.”

  Rhodry ran a shaky hand through his hair. “God’s teeth! What have I gotten myself into? Ailsa is always telling me I’ve got a nose for trouble.”

  “And I’m mighty glad ye have,” Logan replied. “I thank ye for yer help but ye must go home now, back to Ailsa and the bairns.”

  “What do ye mean to do?”

  Logan sheathed his sword. “I have to go after them. I have to get Thea away from Eoin and I need to put an end to this madness with the MacKinnons. Somehow.”

  Rhodry straightened. “Then I’m coming with ye.”

  “Nay,” Logan said, shaking his head. “Ailsa needs ye at home. This is my battle, my friend.”

  “Do ye think Ailsa would ever forgive me if I let ye ride off alone? God above, man, she would tear strips off me. I’m coming with ye whether ye like it or not.”

  Logan watched his friend for a moment and then nodded. “Well then, how do ye feel about a spot of horse rustling?”

  Chapter 19

  "Would ye like me to heat some water so ye can bathe, my lady?" Rian asked.

  In truth Thea would like nothing better than to sink into a hot bath and soak for a while. They'd ridden hard all day and her muscles were aching something fierce. But she shook her head.

  "No, thank you," she said to the maid. "I'm a little tired. I think I'll retire for the night."

  Rian smiled. "Aye, it will be a big day tomorrow. Well, good night."

  "Good night, Rian."

  Thea held her smile in place for the time it took for Rian to leave then the smile slid from her face like a knob of butter from a knife. She looked around at her tent. It was more like a pavilion, large enough to stand up in and house a low bed and two folding chairs. It was a luxury that most of the fighting men weren’t afforded. If they had a tent at all, it was a small, threadbare piece of cloth that would barely keep out the incessant wind that blew down from the pass and moaned around the camp like a banshee.

  She waited a few moments to be sure Rian had gone and then lifted her chin, plastered a haughty look on her face, and marched to the entrance. The two guards that Eoin had placed there for her 'protection' glanced up as she opened the tent flap.

  "If anyone comes to see me, tell them I don't wish to be disturbed," she instructed.

  The guards shared a glance but then nodded. "Aye, my lady."

  She glanced over at Eoin's tent. It was erected next to hers but was much larger with the colors of the MacAuley plaid sown along the seams. Candlelight burned within. Thea returned to her own tent and seated herself on one of the chairs, waiting.

  Gradually, after what felt like hours, the sounds of the camp began to quieten. She rose from her seat and padded over to the back of the tent. The canvas had been staked down but none too securely. There was just enough give in the fabric to allow her to wriggle underneath. Trying to keep as quiet as possible, Thea burrowed her way beneath the wall and into the cool night air on the other side.

  Around her the MacAuley camp stretched out, a sea of campfires. In the darkness they looked liked hundreds of tiny fireflies hovering in the night. Thea drew a deep breath, tiptoed to the side of her tent and peered around it. Her two guards were crouched playing a game with dice. Whilst their attention was fixed elsewhere Thea took her opportunity to quickly dash across the gap between her tent and Eoin's and to hunker down in the shadows of the larger pavilion.

  She pressed her ear against the canvas and heard the sound of soft, even breathing from within. Good. The bastard was asleep. Creeping around to the entrance, Thea quickly ducked inside. Her heart was hammering in her chest and her palms were sweaty but she pushed away her fear and forced herself to concentrate.

  Her plan was a simple one—steal the branding iron he seemed so fond of and run for it. She hadn't been able to come up with anything better.

  She paused for a moment to allow her eyes to adjust to the darkness. Shapes gradually materialized out of the gloom. She made out chairs in a circle in the center of the space with a table between them. A curtain sectioned off Eoin’s sleeping area.

  Biting her lip she looked around, searching. Her eyes alighted on a traveling chest by the far wall. She quickly crossed to it and knelt on the canvas floor. Laying her fingers on the polished wood, she lifted the lid. It creaked and Thea froze, waiting for the hitch in Eoin's breathing that would tell her he'd awoken. It didn't come.

  Letting out a slow breath and trying desperately to calm the frenzied beating of her heart, Thea reached into the trunk. At first her questing fingers found nothing but folded clothing then they brushed against something hard hidden beneath. She lifted out the object and saw that it was indeed the branding iron. The feel of it was strange. It felt warm and sent a tingling up her arm. Bringing it close to her face, she examined it more closely. The hairs wrapped around it gleamed a dull bronze and she had no doubt that they belonged to Logan. Curse Eoin! What did he want with this thing?

  She heard the footstep behind her a moment too late. She snapped the lid shut and whirled around just as Eoin grabbed her by the throat, lifting her until she stood on her tiptoes.

  "Give it to me," he hissed.

  Thea choked, desperately trying to snatch a breath and held out the brand. Eoin snatched it and released her. Thea staggered back, gasping for breath, and massaging her throat where Eoin’s fingers had been. He carefully placed the brand
back in the trunk and closed the lid.

  "Do ye know the punishment for stealing from the laird?" he asked softly. "Hanging. Should I hang ye, Thea Thomas?"

  "I...I...wasn't trying to steal it," Thea gasped out. "I was curious that's all. I just wanted to see what it was."

  "And what did ye see?"

  "Nothing. Just a brand. Something you use on cattle, I guess."

  He stared at her for a long moment. Thea forced herself to meet his gaze. He suddenly smiled.

  “Damn it all, but I like a woman with spirit! Ye will make me a fine wife. Ah, the things we will accomplish together!” Eoin moved so close she could smell the sour wine on his breath. “I will forgive ye this transgression, my love. After all, ye havenae learned to obey me yet, have ye? But ye want to. Ye want to do anything I say.”

  He stared at her, unblinking. His gaze caught hers and for a moment Thea felt her will slipping away. Why was she trying to defy him? Hadn’t he done well by the MacAuley clan? Hadn’t he been a good laird? A better laird than Logan had ever been? Why would she disobey him? He was strong and powerful and the most handsome man she had ever seen. She felt herself take a step towards him.

  “No!” she yelled. She scrambled backwards and the glamor suddenly vanished. “What the hell are you trying to do to me?”

  Fury crossed Eoin’s features. “Curse ye!” he yelled at the ceiling. “I want her now! Give her to me!” He cocked his head as if listening to a voice Thea couldn’t hear. A slow smile spread across his face. “Aye, mayhap ye are right. The wait will make her all the sweeter.” He turned to Thea and the hungry look in his eyes made her blood run cold. “Ye will return to yer tent now, my love. If ye try to leave it again without my permission, I will have ye tied up. Oh, dinna look at me like that, like ye want to stick daggers in my eyes. That will all change after the battle is won. Then ye willnae entertain any notions of disobedience. Ye will live to please me.”