Wolf Castle (Phoenix Throne Book 4): A Scottish Highlander Time Travel Romance

by Heather Walker

  Callum swooped up to a pinnacle of tall rock. He stalled in mid-air to survey the landscape. Rugged mountains extended to the east as far as he could see. Black forests shadowed their interiors. The sea cut across the southern horizon, and islands dotted the coastlines.

  Callum set off at a racing speed down the mountains. Jamie never missed a beat. They tumbled over eddies and air streams into the woods. Callum streaked between the tree trunks until he broke out into farmland beyond the hills.

  He landed on his feet where the trees disappeared. A solitary farmhouse sat across the field. A few cows grazed nearby, but no people disturbed the quiet. Callum settled his saber at his belt.

  “What’re ye stoppin’ ’ere fer?” Jamie asked. “Why didnae ye fly all the way there?”

  “Do ye really want tae turn up at home as a dragon and frighten all the neighbors? Callum asked. “We mun’ walk in like regular men, the same way we walked out in the first place.”

  Jamie grinned. “Why mun’ we? They all think we’re dead. What better way tae make an entrance than tae land in the village when they least expect it?”

  Callum set off walking across the field. “Dinnae let me catch ye plannin’ naught o’ that sort, lad. We’re on our way tae put their minds at rest, no tae throw their world o’er. Mind yer manners, Jamie Cameron, or I’ll deal tae ye meself.”

  “Keep yer kilt on, mon,” Jamie chuckled. “Ye ken I’ll mind meself. I’ll gi’e ye no cause tae lose yer temper.”

  Callum bit back a grin. “See that ye do.”

  Jamie murmured into his ear from behind. “What better way tae win the lassies, eh? They’d love an Urlu if they could get one.”

  Callum spun around to face him. “Dinnae think we’re ’ere tae win lassies. Do ye understand me, Jamie? Dinnae think on bringin’ one o’ them back tae Urlu.”

  “Whye’er no?” Jamie asked. “Angus and Rob married human women. If I find a lassie I like….”

  Callum slashed his hand through the air. “No! Leave ’em in peace, lad. Dinnae tell ’em what we are. Dinnae tell ’em naught aboot the Phoenix Throne.”

  Jamie pulled his head down between his shoulders. He looked away and said nothing. Callum started walking again. He couldn’t let the folk back home find out about the Camerons being Urlu and Angus Cameron being King of a dragon race. That was the last thing in the world he wanted to deal with on this trip.

  Better to keep it simple. He would say hello to everyone he knew and loved. He would catch up on all the local gossip and deliver the message that the Camerons made it to their destination, that they were happy and prosperous, that three of them were married, and then he would leave.

  They spent the rest of the day crossing open country, fording tree-lined streams, and climbing out into heath and spreading moors. They camped under the stars the way they used to in the bad old days.

  Callum leaned back on his arm by a crackling fire and gazed up at the stars. “It’s no the same withoot wraiths and ghouls movin’ in on us at all times. I dinnae recognize meself.”

  “Ye’ll no be satisfied withoot a sword in yer hand,” Jamie returned. “Ye couldnae be happy livin’ in peace in Urlu. Ye had tae go and cook up this plan tae travel across the countryside tae visit the home folk. That’s yer way, Callum.”

  “I!” Callum exclaimed. “I cooked it up! Ye were the one as said ye thought it might be a good idea, if I remember right. We’d no be ’ere now if ye hadnae said so.”

  Jamie shook his head. “Ye’re imaginin’ things as usual, ye scunner. Ye’ll no pin this one on me.”

  Callum closed his eyes and lay back on the ground. “I dinnae care what ye say. Ye’ll no rob me o’ the pleasure o’ this night.”

  Jamie kept mercifully silent, and the two brothers soon fell asleep. The next morning passed much the same as the day before, but at noon, Callum stopped and frowned at another expanse of flat moorland spread out in front of them. “Summat’s amiss.”

  “What is?” Jamie asked. “Do ye see any sign o’ danger?”

  “It’s no danger.” Callum pointed to the country in front of him. “We shouldnae be in this. We should ha’e been in our own land by now, and we should ha’e crossed another set o’ mountains atween ’ere and our own land.”

  Jamie studied their surroundings. “I told ye we should ha’e flown there.”

  “It makes no sense,” Callum replied. “We ha’e been headin’ east the whole time. We should ha’e come tae’t by now.”

  Jamie started forward. “We can ainly keep on eastward until we come tae some landmark tae guide us.”

  Callum didn’t argue, but he didn’t like it. His senses told him something was wrong. Jamie was right. They should have flown closer to Cameron land before they started walking. They should have flown until they entered their own territory. They should never have shifted until they came near their destination.

  He wanted to take off and survey the land from the air to get his bearings, but Jamie was already too far ahead. Callum walked faster to catch up, but somehow Jamie always outstripped him.

  Jamie stayed ahead of him for the rest of the afternoon. Callum conceded to Jamie’s leadership for once in his life. He could carry on a little longer, just to see where they wound up. At last, the evening rays of fading sunshine touched a cluster of rough rocks overlooking the open sea.

  Jamie halted to survey the scene. Callum drew level with him, and the two brothers stared at the lonely spot. A tall tower rose above the rocky landscape. The setting sun glowed bright gold on its square-cut walls. Callum sucked his breath between his teeth. “Do ye ken what that is?”

  “What is’t?” Jamie asked.

  “It’s Moy Castle,” Callum whispered. “It’s the Tower Hoose o’ Clan McLean. We’re on an island. We’re miles away from Cameron land.”

  Chapter 3

  Sadie ducked behind a corner of the wall, covered her face with her hands, and burst into tears. She vented all her grief and despair until her shoulders shook with sobs, but she made sure to keep silent. A lot of people in this castle lost more than she had. They didn’t break down—not where anybody could see them, anyway.

  She cried for a good five minutes solid. Then she dried her face on her apron, smoothed her hair, and took a deep breath. She forced herself to walk back around the corner into a big open room packed with people.

  Moy Castle’s plain stone formed the room’s four walls, the arched doorways, and the windows. Stout wooden beams supported the ceiling, and dozens of footsteps echoed on the smoothed stone floor.

  Sadie had seen these halls too many times by now to pay them any attention. She knew the Tower House like the back of her hand. The instant she entered the hall, she suppressed all her emotion deep in her guts where she wouldn’t feel it. She couldn’t afford to feel grief and despair here. She plunged into the crush of bodies and lost herself in her work.

  Thin wool blankets covered the floor folded into narrow individual beds. A man lay on every bed, some in agony, some in comas, some in the throes of death. Their wounds wept puss and infection. Their eyes registered the terror of the grave. Their hands clasped at anyone who came near for the support and comfort they so desperately needed.

  Sadie stopped at the first bed and went down on her knees next to the man. She knew him well and loved him better than her own brother. He was Blair Montgomery, a cousin of the McLeans who ruled the Isle of Mull and a large tract of territory around the western Scottish coast.

  Sadie arranged her skirts over her knees. This dress took some getting used to, but now that she wore it for a few weeks, she liked it. It was comfortable, and the patients accepted her better in these clothes than in the scrubs she wore when she first showed up here.

  She lifted Blair’s kilt up to his thigh. “How’s your leg feeling today, Blair?”

  He passed his hand over his forehead and gasped for breath. “Still aches, lassie. Still aches like mad. It’s enough tae drive a mon tae violence.”

  “I
understand,” she replied. “I know it’s maddening. It will pass in time. I can promise you that.” She studied the bandaged stump of his leg where it ended above the knee. She took a bottle of strong alcohol out of her apron pocket. “It’s healing well. I don’t see any sign of infection. That’s a miracle considering what’s going on in this place. Little Bennet McLean over there probably won’t make it, and he only lost his little finger. The infection spread up his arm, and he won’t last another night, I’d say.”

  Blair turned away. “That doesnae help me much. I still ha’e no leg. I’ll ne’er fight again. If those things attack, I may as weel be dead fer all the good I’ll be tae me Laird and Clan.”

  Sadie put down the folded cloth she used to swab her patients’ wounds. She took Blair’s hand. “You’re gonna be just fine, Blair, and you’re gonna live a long, healthy, happy life. Your leg will be your badge of honor, and everyone will know you did your duty to your Laird and your Clan. You’ll never have to worry about that.”

  He turned his eyes up to her face. “Do ye really ha’e tae do that, lassie? Can ye no skip it, just this once, fer my sake?”

  She opened her mouth in surprise. Then she saw the expression on his face and shut it again. So that’s what this was all about. He didn’t care about facing life without his leg. He didn’t want her to swab the wound with that alcohol.

  Her heart spasmed, and she squeezed his hand. “I know it hurts, and I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t have to. In the weeks since I’ve been here, I’ve seen twenty men die of infection. I can’t stand seeing that happen to anyone else, and I don’t want to watch it happen to you. Believe me, I wouldn’t hurt you if I thought there was any other way.”

  Her voice cracked from the tears threatening to break out again. She possessed nothing but a bottle of alcohol with which to help these people. She held their hands and listen to them scream when she dabbed it on their wounds. She endured their curses and their blows to stop her doing it. She helped others hold the wounded down while they applied the antiseptic, but all those experiences stabbed deep into her psyche.

  She never practiced medicine in a place like this before. She worked in inner city clinics. She never worked in a war zone in a third world country. That’s where she was now. How could anyone live with this? How could she torture a man like Blair? She either had to torture him pouring alcohol on his wounds or watch him die like the others.

  She clutched his hand and stroked his long hair off his cheeks. She rubbed his arm, and she didn’t go near her alcohol bottle until he jerked away with another gasp. “Go on and do it if ye must.”

  She didn’t wait for a second invitation. She unwrapped his bandages and poured alcohol onto her cloth pad. She wiped down the skin around his thigh. He shuddered and clenched his fists in anticipation. Then, with one brutal tip of her bottle, she poured the alcohol over his bare stump.

  He jerked aside so hard he swept his fist back and knocked her over. She barely caught the bottle before she spilled the contents all over the floor. She righted herself in time to cork it and move out of his way.

  Blair kicked his good leg and beat his fists against the floor. He gnashed his teeth and bellowed curses. He moaned and screamed for a long time until the awful spasms left him. He collapsed back on the floor and flung his arm over his eyes.

  Sadie gathered up her cloths and her bottle and tucked them in her apron pocket. She had dozens of other patients to tend to before nightfall. She wouldn’t bother Blair again. He wouldn’t want to see her after what she’d done.

  She started to get to her feet when his hand shot out. He grasped her fingers. “Dinnae leave yet, lass. Dinnae…dinnae leave yet…please.”

  She pressed his hand between hers. She tried to smile, but she couldn’t see his face through her tears. “It’ll be all right, Blair. I’ll come back and see you in a little while. If you need anything from me, you know I’m never far away.”

  He glanced around the hall. She said the same thing to everybody. She gave herself to everyone as much as she could, but she was only one person. She couldn’t take care of all these men. That was another reason they didn’t all make it. They needed more care than one person could give.

  Still, she didn’t get up. She refused to let go of his hand. She could only give herself completely to one person at a time, but when she did, she gave her all. She did her best to make each man feel no one existed for her but him, and she succeeded most of the time. Every man in this room said the same things to her. They begged her not to leave them alone, to hold their hands just a little longer. She offered them their only lifeline in this sea of despair and death.

  At last, Blair let go of her hand first. “Ye’d best be on yer way, lassie. I’ll be awright until ye come back.”

  She smiled and kissed his knuckles. “Thank you, Blair. I can’t tell you how pleased I am with how you’re recovering. I would be heartbroken if anything happened to you.”

  He had to smile at that, and she left him blushing. She moved on to the next bed. This time, she sat down cross-legged next to Christie McLean, younger brother to the Clan Chief, Lachlan McLean.

  She took Christie’s hand, too. He cast a terrified glance her way and turned his face to the wall. He whimpered under his breath.

  “How are you, Christie?” she asked.

  He didn’t answer. He panted under his breath, and sweat stood out in beads on his forehead. She regarded him for a long time, but when he still said nothing, she pushed herself up on her knees. “I’ll come back later, Christie. You rest for now.”

  He lunged at her and caught her by the wrist. “No! Do it now and get’t o’er. I cinnae stand the waitin’ all day fer’t.”

  Sadie looked around. “Are you sure?”

  “Aye,” he gasped. “Please. Do it now afore I lose me head.”

  Sadie turned back to Blair. “Help me here a second, will you, Blair?”

  “Aye, lassie. I’ll do it.” Blair hoisted himself into a sitting position and scooted closer to Christie.

  “I’ll have to find someone else to help me,” Sadie remarked. “Wait here.”

  She hurried away, but she found no one in the hall but more wounded. One wounded man helping another was enough. She needed at least one more able-bodied man to do this job. She hurried into the passage outside the hall and found three men, all wearing McLean tartans, standing together under the window.

  Lachlan McLean turned his golden head at her approach. “Is all weel wi’ ye, lassie?”

  She rushed to his side. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Lachlan. Would you help me with Christie, please? Blair is going to help, too. I just need one more person.”

  “O’ course.” He nodded to his two cousins, Bryce and Colin McLean. “See to’t, and I’ll meet ye on the battlements in an hour.”

  The others left, and Lachlan turned his attention on Sadie. “How is he?”

  “He’s fine. He’s just terrified of the pain. As long as we keep doing this, he’ll make a full recovery. He’s ready for it now, so we better get it done before he changes his mind.”

  Lachlan followed her back into the hall. He towered over his younger brother, who searched the young Laird’s face. Christie’s lip quivered. “Ye’re ready, lad?” Lachlan asked.

  Christie nodded. His eyes skipped around the hall but saw nothing. “Do it. Fer the love o’ heaven, just do it.”

  Lachlan strode around to his brother’s head and wrestled the boy into a sitting position. Christie started to struggle against his brother’s hands. Blair descended on Christie’s legs. He leaned all his bulky weight on the young Highlander’s knees to pin his legs to the floor.

  Christie whined in terror. Lachlan tightened his grip. His muscled chest and shoulders bulged under his loose-fitting shirt. Christie might be smaller and wiry, but he took all Lachlan’s great strength to subdue him at times like these. Christie earned his wounds on the battlefield and took down dozens of the enemy in the process.

  His whining rose
to a screech, but Lachlan kept his grip. Blair wedged his good leg against the floor and held onto Christie’s knees with all his might. Sadie worked in a fever next to Christie’s bed. She had to get this done, and fast.

  She put out her hand to unbutton Christie’s shirt. He exploded into raving madness. He tried to fight her off, but Lachlan seized his two wrists and yanked his arms back at the shoulder. Sadie flicked open Christie’s shirt and removed his bandages to expose two angry red gashes cut diagonally across his chest.

  She spread his shirt aside and pulled a small knife out of her other pocket. Christie went ballistic. He shrieked and tossed. “Get her away o’ me! Dinnae let her do this tae me! Lachlan, no! No, lassie, dinnae do it. I dinnae want’t.”

  Sadie gritted her teeth and shouted over the noise. “Hold him still.”

  She bent over his chest and set to work scraping all the scabbed-over dried blood off his wounds until the bright red blood flowed down his sides. He broke into high-pitched screams. He begged and sobbed and ranted. She did her best to block out the sound, but it still set her hair on end.

  She worked from his shoulder all the way down to his stomach. She picked off every scrap of scar tissue and dried blood and exposed the raw dripping muscle underneath. She set aside the gory knife and picked up the bottle.

  Christie cried and screeched. Some of the other patients watched. Others closed their eyes and turned away. At the sight of the bottle, Christie went into such a fit of kicking and struggling that Lachlan lost his grip on one of Christie’s arms.

  Christie lashed out at Sadie. Lachlan caught Christie’s wrist just in time and fought his brother back. Blood flowed all over Christie’s sides and stained his blankets. Blair cursed behind Sadie’s back. “Gi’e it tae him, lass. Hurry. I cinnae hold him.”

  Sadie glanced up at Lachlan. “Have you got him?”

  Lachlan nodded, but he couldn’t answer. He clenched his jaws against the strain. Sadie poured the alcohol over Christie’s wounds and wiped up the excess with her cloths. Christie’s screams shook the castle. The instant Sadie finished her job, she turned away and plugged her ears so she wouldn’t hear him.