The Elusive Highlander

by Ju Ephraime

  “Well, I have already told ye I’m he and ye were not following me. Never have I left this keep except to go to war. I do not know a place called Manhattan or America. So far as I am concerned, they do not exist. Who is more likely to be believed, ye or me?”

  “Believed? Why? What is there not to believe? And who are you trying to convince, me or you?”

  “Ye are here in my keep. Ye speak of some faraway place and falling. This keep was taken from the Clan Lamont in a recent battle. In spite of considerable intermarriage between Clan Campbell and Clan Lamont, the relations between Campbell clansmen and Lamont clansmen remain harsh and bitter, which is why I suspect ye were sent by a rival clan.”

  “Believe what you want then, Laird.”

  “Do not be so cocksure, lass. What they find may well determine whether ye live or die. I don’t relish the need to kill ye. My men will expect it of me, and I cannot disappoint them. There are certain standards I must live up to.”

  “You don’t scare me,” she said defiantly.

  “No? More fool ye. Ye should be afraid of me, very afraid, lass.”

  “I know that’s what you want. Only thing is, I’m not easily intimidated, and if you had intended to kill me, I would be dead already. I refuse to be frightened by you.”

  Coira studied his face the very same way he studied hers, trying to gauge whether he was being truthful. He appeared to be deadly serious. It didn’t frighten her because she also was serious. She intended to do everything in her power to get back home, even if it meant crawling on her belly to get back to the location where she’d first entered the keep.

  “I must insist ye remain in yer room until I can sort this out. Wandering about the keep might expose ye to unnecessary danger. So locking ye in the room is for yer safety.”

  She studied him intensely, seeing the stamp of honor and integrity, which had preceded everything he’d done since her arrival. “Okay,” she said, “on one condition, that you’ll help me make it back home.”

  “No, I cannot, lass.”

  “Why not?”

  “I just cannot.”

  “Is it because you have no intentions of helping me?”

  “I can help keep ye safe here; however, helping ye go back to yer home is not in my power.”

  “Are you saying, if it were in your power, you’d help me?”

  “Aye. I would help ye make it back. Ye have my word on it.”

  “So, let me get this straight, if you find out you could help get me back home, you would?”

  “Aye. I have already said so.”

  I’ll hold you to that. Let’s shake on it,” she said, offering him her hand. He stood there eyeing her hand, not taking it. Her heart sank. If he was not willing to shake on it, it meant he wouldn’t keep his word. Just as she was about to withdraw her hand, he reached for it and engulfed it in his large, rough, callused hand. She felt a jolt of heat in the palm of her hand, and she found herself snatching her hand back as if she had accidentally touched a live wire.

  Coira rubbed her hand on her thigh to erase his touch. She was not aware she was doing it until she saw him give her a mocking look, with a brief smile that caused the corner of his mouth to lift slightly, softening his features considerably.

  “I will send Gertrude up with water for ye to freshen up. Did she show ye the garderobe?”

  “No, but she did show me the chamber pot.”

  “Ye may make use of the clothes in the chests. They belonged to my sister who is no longer with us. She was a very generous lass. I do not think she would mind.” And with that, he walked out of the room and turned the key in the lock after him.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Alasdair walked out of the room, trying his best not to laugh at the situation he currently found himself in. He couldn’t believe Gertrude told her to use a chamber pot instead of taking her to the garderobe. He supposed Gertrude was thinking of keeping her in her room when she’d told her about the chamber pot. After all, she knew he couldn’t give Coira the run of the keep until he’d managed to convince his men she was not a spy in their midst.

  Also, he needed her to dress in something less revealing while she was about the keep. His men needed no distractions from a woman who claimed she was from the future. Not that he believed her. Nevertheless, he needed to be able to explain her presence in his keep, and that lie was as good as any. He would have to find a way of verifying her identity. She was very strange, and the fact that she did not seem to fear him was a bit disconcerting. Her English was different and her talk of Manhattan and America seemed a bit far-fetched. He had to investigate everything she said. He could afford to leave no stone unturned.

  Something about this was nagging at him. A vague memory that at the moment was proving very elusive. As he couldn’t, for the life of him, explain why a woman from the future would land in the middle of his keep, and in the very room where he’d just entered. It was as if it had all been perfectly timed. He couldn’t wait until his men returned. At first, he’d been reluctant to let them leave because he could be playing into his enemy’s hand. It was a chance he had to take. The only way they would know what was happening was by sending his men to see what they could learn from the neighboring clans.

  He had instructed them to visit the two clans that were always in conflict with them, Clan MacDougall and Clan Lamont, to learn what they were planning. He wanted all this bad blood between them put to rest. His da had tried, and he would try to address the situation when the sovereign nation of Scotland was once again unchallenged by the English.

  If he believed her version of events, she’d been following this other Alasdair into his office, and the next thing she knew there he was and there she was in fourteenth century Scotland. He would have to look into this America place, she kept referring to. Maybe it would tell him something. She did say America was the superpower. If that is the case, what happened to England? What happened to Scotland? He refused to believe all the warring, fighting, and killing would be for naught.

  He could not take what the lass said for truth. He had to do his due diligence and fight to keep the Bruce on Scotland’s throne. Hopefully, they’d be able to achieve that with the help of the Knights Templar. They had been instrumental in the resounding victory the Scots had when Robert the Bruce defeated the English supporters at the battle of Barra. The victory had been hard-earned. So, having someone suspected of being a spy in his home was shaky ground, one that could have him labeled a traitor, especially now that they were preparing to go to war again, this time to gain Scotland’s independence.

  Loath though he was to admit it, he was susceptible where she was concerned. She had a lot of the qualities he admired in a woman—beauty, intelligence, pride, and sensuality. He felt it every time he was within touching distance of her. He had a difficult time keeping his mind on the business at hand when all he could think about was pushing aside his plaid and burying himself inside her.

  He didn’t anticipate any problem in that regard. The tiny pieces of fabric she was wearing as clothing would present no barrier to his raging cock. Just thinking about it had him rock hard. He imagined ripping off the flimsy fabric that covered her from the waist to her thighs and lifting her onto his stiff manhood as she wrapped those long legs around his waist. He was so far-gone in his daydreaming he could’ve sworn he felt her heels hitting his butt every time he rammed his dick into her. He had to remind himself she was not for him. She could be the enemy. Why couldn’t he get that through to his cock? He’d been too long without a woman.

  He vowed to stay away from her, as difficult as it seemed to be for him. He had been looking for every pretext to go to her. He had to stop because he would find himself doing just what he’d vowed he’d never do—take an unwilling woman to his bed. He could tell she was unwilling because all she talked about was going home. He wished he knew how to send her back, only he didn’t have any idea.

  * * * *

  Coira was getting more worried by the minute.
She wanted to be home to check up on her dad. Being in this place was okay to Alasdair. It was not to her. She always visited her dad every night before he went to bed and not being able to visit him was taking its toll on her. And if what the Laird said was gospel, she wouldn’t be free to go home until he’d heard from his men; who knew when that would be? These people kept their own schedule, and nothing she said or did would make them move any faster. So she supposed she’d better try her best to control her impatience.

  The unfortunate thing was, under any other circumstances, she’d probably be happy to play with the Laird. This was just not the right time. With her thinking about her fate, and worrying about her dad, every other feeling took second place. And it just didn’t seem right to be lusting after the very man who was holding her prisoner. The whole idea seemed ludicrous.

  Just when she was thinking she should create a ruckus to bring Gertrude to her aid, she heard footsteps walking down the hallway. She held her breath, waiting, thinking it was Gertrude. The steps continued past her door, and then she heard a door open and close.

  Evidently she was sharing this wing with someone else. She wondered if she could find a way to get him to help her escape. She knew it was a male. There seemed to be a pitiful shortage of women in this keep.

  She’d been here several hours, and during that time, she had seen only one other woman besides herself, and that was Gertrude. So she would not hold her breath on the footsteps belonging to a woman. For one thing, they were too heavy. No woman she knew had such a heavy walk. She wished there was a radio or television she could listen to. It would make the room less lonely, and her ability to hear what went on outside in the hallway would diminish.

  She sat down on the bed, trying to find a way out of her predicament. Coira went over everything she’d done when she’d met Alasdair in New York in the twenty-first century. She couldn’t find anything she’d done that would take her from twenty-first century Manhattan to the fourteenth century Scottish Highlands in the home of a strange man, who had accused her of being a spy. She was just as perplexed as he. Where was the man she was meeting? How comes this one, not only had the same name, he also had a slight resemblance to the man she had the meeting with in Manhattan. Yet he claimed to have never met her before. This was a problem all her extensive problem-solving skills couldn’t solve. Nonetheless, she had to do something. She sensed she was in dangerous territory. She’d read several history books on that time period to know that women weren’t a priority with men of that time.

  She began pacing the room, looking for a way out. There seemed to be one entry/exit. She was well and truly screwed. Coira removed her coat and, putting it aside, crawled under the bed to see if possibly there would be an escape in case of a fire. There was nothing. She was crawling out, backwards, when she felt something solid in her way. She couldn’t turn around beneath the bed. There wasn’t enough room to do that, so she kept pushing with her butt. By then her short skirt was riding up her hips because she could feel the cold air on her thighs. She wished she could’ve kept her coat on while she went searching beneath the bed. The problem was the coat was too bulky and cumbersome for that.

  She was gripped by the waist and pulled partway out. Her butt came into contact with the weapon he had hidden beneath his plaid.

  “What are ye about, lass?” he thundered.

  Coira’s attempt to remove her head from beneath the bed, and separate her body from his person at the same time, caused her to bang her head on the bed frame. She was still able to turn and face him, even if she was now in a sitting position on the floor, looking up at him. His blue eyes appeared to glitter as he swept them over her from head to toe and came back to settle on her short apology for a skirt.

  “’Tis bad enough ye go about in a state of undress, and now ye crawl over the floor with yer bum in the air.”

  Coira could tell he was affected because his brogue came out, fast and hard. She shivered. He would have to catch her in this compromising position with her butt stuck up in the air, barely covered by the scrap of fabric she called a panty.

  “Answer me, lass. What are ye trying to do?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing? Ye just crawl over tha floor for amusement?”

  “No! I was trying to find a way out of this room if you must know.”

  “Ye think there would be a door beneath tha bed? Is that what ye are saying?”

  “Yes. I believe you know I arrived here by some sort of magic, and I was trying to find my way back.”

  “Nay, I dinna ken,” he said softly. Too softly for someone who was practically yelling at her a couple minutes earlier.

  Her breath caught in her throat as, with a small sigh, she stood up to face him. Now they were inches apart from full-frontal contact. Thinking of contact, she glanced down at the front of his plaid, and sure enough, it was tenting big time in front of him. Coira felt electricity lance through her everywhere his gaze landed. If he’d pushed aside his plaid and taken her then, she didn’t think she’d have the willpower to resist him.

  She had to pull herself back from the edge of disaster. She didn’t belong in his world; she belonged in the twenty-first century. “I’m sorry if you find my actions offensive. I have to get out of here. I don’t belong, and if it means earning your displeasure, then so be it.”

  He tossed his head back and laughed. “Ye are a treasure. Nothing holds ye back. Ye go charging in headfirst, literally. A great quality in a man, but no woman I know would behave thus.”

  They stared at each other while she waited for her heart rate to subside.

  “Ye are beautiful, lass, I’ll give ye that. However, I’ll not blind myself to the threat ye pose to me. I came to tell ye my men are back. They did not have to ride all the way. They intercepted MacDougall on his way over here, and they brought news. I was going to invite ye to sit in on our meeting, but seeing ye clad in this strip of garment, I do not think that would be such a good idea after all, especially not with the men being without a woman for weeks.”

  “Are you saying your men are worse than savages? They would just fall on me and ravage me?”

  * * * *

  Alasdair couldn’t help smiling. If she were in danger of being ravaged by anyone, it’d be by him. Seeing her round, firm buttock up in the air with the skimpy piece of fabric between the two cheeks, he could barely contain himself. His mind was now imagining her with nothing between those cheeks. The things he wanted to do to her better remain unspoken.

  He spun on his heel and walked out of the room. It was either that or take her in the way of his kind… rough, hard, and brutal. He’d better find his men. If he were to maintain his sanity, he would let Gertrude deal with her going forward.

  He continued to the hall where the men had just arrived and had fallen upon the meal Gertrude and his kitchen wench had prepared for them. The ale was flowing freely. Taking his seat at the head of the table, he joined the men in eating the food Gertrude set before him.

  The men wouldn’t discuss anything until they were well and truly full. He was in no mood to hurry them along. He was laughing at one of Tristan’s silly jokes when he remembered to instruct Gertrude to take a tray up to their guest. He didn’t want her starved on top of everything else. He wanted her to remember her time in his keep fondly.

  Finally, dinner was over. Initially, he didn’t mind the jokes and the laughter that surrounded the table, but every so often, his mind would drift to his visitor, and he would find himself anxious to have dinner over and done with so he could go look in on her. Alasdair had realized a long, long time ago that you don’t hurry the men when they are eating and drinking. They worked hard and put themselves in harm’s way every day, for king and country, particularly now that they were at war with England. Fighting the neighboring clan was one thing. Leaving home and going to war with little chance of returning was another matter. So, whatever little time they had to socialize and have fun, he did not discourage them. He had to leave th
e table. He knew if he wanted the men to leave the table, his leaving would signal the dinner was over.

  Standing, he left and made his way into the courtyard, where he took a weapon from the rack and began attacking an invisible opponent. Soon he was joined by Tristan, and then the entire group came. He put his sword away, a sure indication that he was done with practice, and indicated for Tristan to walk with him away from the group.

  “Who is going to tell me what transpired with MacDougall, or do I have to beat it out of ye?”

  “Hold on now, Dair. We’ve only just got back. Ye have to sit down to take it all in. I dinna ken if ye will like this.”

  “By the saints, desist, Tristan, and get to the point.”

  “I found out the lass may be telling the truth about not knowing how she came to be here. I dinna ken all the details. According to MacDougall, ye were betrothed to the only female lass in their family, and on the eve of the wedding, ye were poisoned because the MacDougalls wanted someone from the neighboring clan for their sister. Our Mither, desperate to save ye, said a geas over yer head. The geas had ye trapped in time, and when ye met the right woman, the geas took ye back in time to the events that were taking place at the time of yer death. So, this entire situation going on now, is what had been happening the since after our Mither’s passing right after your death.”

  ”What did ye say?”

  “If ye want to know more, ye’ll have to talk with MacDougall, ye know he is very heavy into the magic of our Mither. It seems the same way ye were trapped in time, we were too. Only where ye were wondering, we were stuck here, so that everything would be as it were when you returned. I don’t believe even our Mither knew it would take this long for you to return. I’m beginning to believe, she must have somehow done something to Coira too, because you reappeared and so did this woman.”