“Who is that? Who goes there?” a deep voice with a thick Scottish accent shouted.
“Oh, thank God. Somebody that speaks,” Maria said and started to walk toward the very tall figure that came toward her.
This man had a very menacing look on his face. He had reddish blond long hair down to his ears. He wore a belted plaid and a sword on his hip. The man had a very broad physique and Maria was impressed at how much he was staying in character.
“What ye be doing down here, lass? Ye be a spy?” he said, putting his hand on his sword.
“What? No, you don't have to stay in character for me. I got lost. Now if you will take me back to the tour group. I don't have any reception on my cell phone,” she said, holding up her phone.
The man looked at it completely confused. “What is that? Who are ye? I do not recognize that tongue,” he said.
“Tongue? Oh my accent. Right cause I'm American. Look, I already told you, you don't have to keep playing this game. My name is Maria Saunders, could you please take me back to the rest of the group. I got lost. This is all very well done, I'm completely freaked out,” she said. “I thought I was coming here to see ghosts, but instead you guys played a crazy trick on us. Very well done I must say. But could you take me to the rest of the group now,” Maria said. Then she shouted, “I'm done, you guys. I give up. I'm ready to go back to the main level of the castle.”
“Ghost? Ye came here to see ghosts, lass? Why are you dressed like that? I have never seen a lass not wearing a dress. Ye dress like a soldier from the south,” the guard said.
“Look guy, I'm done. I already told you,” Maria said walking up to him and poking his chest with her finger. She realized just how strong he was. But his face did not change, and he still had a very serious and concerned look.
“Are ye taken with fever? Talking of ghosts and having strange gadgets and wearing strange clothes. Ye are down here in the dungeon with the prisoners. Ye are either here to release them for someone that ye be working for, or ye wandered down here from the feast in a state of fever.”
“From the feast? Yes, take me to the feast. That's where everyone is,” she said.
“I will do no such thing. If ye are a spy then I will be putting ye with the Laird, but ye could attempt to assassinate him. And if ye are not a spy then ye are sick with the fever and will give it to him. I must be rid of ye,” he said. Then he suddenly picked her up and flung her over his shoulder.
“What? What are you doing? Let me go. Have you lost your mind?” Maria shouted. “Wait, is this part of it. Are you a male stripper or something? What the hell is going on here?”
“Stop with ye nonsense. Ye are making me head hurt,” the man said in that strange Scottish accent of his.
Maria sighed. She felt stupid. She was a detective in one of the highest areas of crime in her country, New York City, but at the moment she was being flung over the shoulder of a very tall and strong Scottish man. She went limp, just letting him carry her. If this was the way back to the rest of the tour group then so be it. She was obviously singled out for some sort of prank or made all the right moves to be the subject of the prank of the ghost tour. She just wanted to get back to the group and be safe again.
The man carried her up some stairs, and then down a long corridor. By the fresh air coming in through the small windows, she could tell that she was above ground again. It was night time outside, and she couldn't see out. He pushed open the door, and she thought that everyone would be behind it. But she was wrong.
“What is this? Where is everyone?” she said.
He carried her into a very small room that had a small bed in the corner. There was a table, and a chair, and a chamber pot as well. But that was all. He flung her down onto the bed.
“What are these things?” he said grabbing her GoPro camera. He looked at it, examining it with wide eyes.
“Okay, Scottish guy. You can stop already. I don't want to play the game anymore. Where is everyone else. Where is Mr. Leslie?” she said.
“And this? What is this?” He grabbed her phone.
Maria let out a frustrated groan. She didn't understand why he wouldn't break character. Maybe she was being filmed for some ridiculous reality show. She tried to think about the NDA form that she had signed. She really didn't read it all the way through. Had she signed on to participate in a reality show? Great.
“Look, I just want to get back to…” she stood up and started to walk toward the door.
Then she felt a strong grasp around her arm stop her. “Ye will stay here. Ye will not leave. Ghost, spy, witch, whatever ye are. The Laird will decide what is to be done with ye.”
Then the tall guy walked to the door and closed the door behind him. She could hear the key rattling in the lock.
“No. Wait. I don't want to do this anymore,” she said. Maria went to the door and tried to open it, but it wouldn't budge. She pounded on the door shouting for Mr. Leslie or anyone to let her go.
No one came to the door. She started to look around the room, especially in the corners high up on the wall. She assumed there was a hidden camera in them. “Look! I don't want to do this! Can somebody come let me out? I'm going to sue!”
But there was no response to her words. Then she heard some music drifting on the wind. She walked to the window and looked out.
“What the hell?”
Maria looked out to see that the environment outside the castle had changed drastically. There were many torches lit and fires burning in fire pits. She could see lots of different buildings that look to be barns or stables with thatched roofs.
There was a corral with sheep in them. Several people dressed in authentic, historical, Scottish attire walked back and forth. Some men were drinking and laughing around a fire pit. Women carried different trays of items and scurried back and forth.
“Help! I'm up here! I need to talk to someone!” Maria shouted out the window. But it was no use, the music, the laughter and conversation, and the ocean waves drowned out her shouts that seemed to catch in the very gusts of wind. She tried again, and nobody looked up at her window.
She gave up and walked back and forth in the room. Then she sat down on the bed, realizing that all she could do was wait. What had she got herself into?
She wondered what happened to her friends. Was everyone sitting behind some monitors, watching her make a fool of herself?
Chapter 4
The sounds of waves hitting rock on the beach cliffs echoed in Maria’s room. The breeze came inside softly and smelled of salt and fish. The night air was cool and gentle for the summer. All of this made the atmosphere inside Maria’s room feel very relaxed, even though she herself was quite anxious.
But hours passed and nothing had happened. A few times she pounded on the door trying to get anyone’s attention, but no one answered. She turned the room upside down looking for pin cameras and microphones and found nothing. She even tried shouting out the window again. For a second she thought one of the women carrying baskets heard her, but then she kept walking.
Maria gave up and sat down on the bed. It must be very late, at least after midnight but she couldn’t be certain. She knew that she would stay up all night because she had slept late in the hotel and on the bus to prepare for staying up all night. So she laid down on her back simply to rest her tired body.
Maria didn’t know when it happened, but she had become exhausted. Before she knew it, she had fallen asleep. She experienced a very deep sleep.
When she stirred awake, she remembered the very strange dream that she had overnight.
She lay on her side, with a blanket over her head. “That was the strangest dream,” she said out loud to herself, rubbing her eyes. The blanket felt very coarse, and she didn't remember the hotel having such tough blankets. She opened her eyes and looked at the blue and green plaid of the blanket. Hmm.
She pulled the blanket from her head and looked directly at a gray stone wall in front of her. She didn't remember the
hotel being in that way either. It had white walls and was nicely decorated.
“What was the dream?” a very deep voice said with a thick Scottish accent.
Maria let out a scream and pulled the blanket up under her chin. She sat up and saw a very tall blond man with long wavy hair, blue-gray eyes, and a bit of stubble beard along his square jaw standing in the room. He seemed to be looming over her at his tall height. After she got over the shock, she also noticed just how attractive he was.
“What are you doing in my room? Get out. I will call the front desk,” she said.
“Front desk? What does that mean, outsider?” he asked.
“Outsider?” Maria slowly looked around. It wasn't a dream after all. She was still in the same room as the night before. “No. This cannot be happening.”
“What is happening?” the Scottish man asked.
“This. This is happening, all of this. Who are you and what are you doing in here? I want to see someone that’s in charge,” she said. “I demand it.”
“In charge?” His thick brows rose. “You demand things of me?”
“Yes, whoever is overseeing all of this, in charge. Who is the ruler of this stupid castle place, whatever is going on. Do you work for Mr. Leslie?” she asked. “I bet you do. Look at you. You’re so handsome and want to be an actor in movies, but you didn’t make it, so you are doing this re-enactment crap. Well good for you, now take me to Mr. Leslie.”
“No. I do not work Mr. Leslie or for anyone. I am the ruler of this place,” he said.
“What? Okay I get it. You're really good at doing this re-enactment or whatever it is. But can you drop character for one moment? I didn't sign up for this. And look, it’s morning. This should be over and done with by now. I want to get back on the bus.”
“Drop character? I don't know what you speak of, lass. You speak mad ravings. The guard was right. Now who are you and what are you doing in my castle? How did you get into the dungeon? Who sent you? Was it the Leslie Clan? You spoke the name Leslie.”
“Yes, Mr. Leslie the tour guide. He didn't send me, really, but he did bring me here for the ghost tour. Now, will you take me to him? You're really good at your job, but I’m ready to go back to the bus.”
“What is a bus?”
Maria looked at him not knowing how to get through to him anymore. The man took a step closer and looked at her strangely. He lifted his very large hand and put his fingers along the sleeve of her leather jacket. She pulled away. Then he looked at the sweater that she wore underneath the jacket and seemed to be eyeing her. With a simple swift yank he pulled the course blanket off of her.
“Hey. What are you doing?””
But he didn't answer. Instead he looked at her body up and down as she sat in bed.
“Why do you wear this attire, lass? Where is it from? I have never heard the accent you speak with.”
“Well I have never heard yours either. It is obviously Scottish, but very, very thick. I can hardly understand what you’re saying.”
His blue-gray eyes narrowed at her. “I am willing to play this game with you. Only because I am very curious of who you are and what you do here, but I will not tolerate insults of my native tongue.”
“Well I don’t want to play games. I just want to go home.”
Maria looked at the man getting a very good look at him. He also wore a belted plaid around his waist, like the guard. She noticed that these were much longer and had much more material than the modern-day kilt. He wore a cotton tunic shirt with long sleeves, and a belt diagonally across his chest that held all sorts of pouches. He also wore a sword on his belt around his hips. His wavy, long, blond hair was down to his jawline. She had to admit that he was very attractive, but most actors were. She figured he would probably go from being a reenactor to being on a real show within a year or two, looking as good as he did.
Then Maria stood up, and the man took a step backwards. She thought it was very odd, as though he were frightened of her, when it should be the other way around.
The man looked at her as if he didn’t know what to make of her. It was as if he’d never seen a woman from America before. For that matter, it looked as though he’d never seen anything modern before.
Maria looked out the window. “What? I don't understand,” she said. Out the window was a completely different environment than the castle ruins that she had driven up to on the bus tour and now that it was sunlight she could see more.
It was vibrant chaos outside. It was more than she had seen the night before in the dark. But now that it was morning light, she could see everything. There were lots of people milling about, all of them wearing historically accurate costumes. Some were leading farm animals across a courtyard that was occupied with thatched roof huts. In the distance she could see stables with horses in them or being led in and out. A maid looked to be beating the dust out of a rug, while others were preparing and grinding some sort of grains.
“This is unbelievable,” Maria said.
“What is your name outsider?”
She turned around to see the Scottish man looking at her with his arms crossed. He had a very concerned look on his face. It was then that Maria realized, maybe this wasn't a reenactment at all. There was just too much detail going on in everything. She looked at the room again once more with fresh eyes. Everything was historically accurate, and there was nothing to show that it was modern-day. She began to panic but wanted to remain calm because deep down she knew there was no way that she could somehow be in the past. That just wasn't logical at all.
“My name is Maria.”
“Now Maria, do you want to tell me what these are? Is this magic?” The Scottish man walked over to the table and unfolded a burlap cloth.
“My phone,” Maria said. She ran over to it and picked it up. There was absolutely no signal on it just like the night before. She tried to call a few numbers, and there was nothing.
“What are you doing? Why are you touching that object in that way?” the man asked.
“Do you really not know? You’re not screwing with me?” she asked.
His thick eyebrows rose. “Screwing with you? If I were to screw you it would not look like this.” A smile came across his face.
It was enough to make her knees feel weak.
“Playing a joke. For Laughs. Pretending to be someone that you're not,” she said.
“You make no sense at all, Maria. Now tell me what this is? Is it something to harm us?” he asked pointing at the GoPro camera.
“Harm you? What do you mean? The camera? No it is not going to harm you. What the hell is going on here? I can't tell if this is real or not. This has to be a dream. I must have gotten sick and I'm having a fever dream.”
“Camera? What is it? Explain it to me.”
“Fine. I'll play along with your stupid game. Maybe if I answer all your questions I will pass whatever test is being played on me and I can get out of here. A camera, you know. You point it at things, and it records what it sees in front of it?”
“It can see? This item can see? Where are its eyes?” the attractive Scottish man asked.
“Seriously? See? This is super annoying.” Maria picked up the GoPro camera and showed him. She pointed to the eyepiece lens. “This is where it captures what it's looking at. Then it records and plays back on this screen if you want it to.”
The Scottish man furrowed his brows. “Why would it want to capture you? It gets pushed inside, like the old myth of genie in a bottle?”
Maria looked at him with wide eyes. With every moment of conversation, it felt like it was obvious that she had somehow transferred back into the past. But she wasn't willing to give up on the notion that this was some sort of elaborate game, and not something magical. But it was hard to think that, when the man was so sincere and so confused by her modern objects. The Scottish man put his hand out and touched the GoPro camera, very delicately.
Knock. Knock. There was a banging at the door. The man seemed startl
ed, as though he thought it was coming from the GoPro. This did not help Maria to think that this was only a game. Because he genuinely seemed terrified and startled in that moment as though the GoPro device was going to suck him in, like a genie in the bottle as he had said. Her heart began to beat very fast.
Realizing the banging noise was a knock at the door, the man went to open it. A guard stood on the other side.
“The food that you ordered has been brought up, and the clothing,” the guard said.
“Good,” the Scottish man said.
He picked up a dress, that was flung across the shoulder of the guard, and put it on his own shoulder. Then he took the tray from the guard and closed the door again.
“I had food brought up to you. You must be hungry. You can also change into this,” he said putting the tray down on the table. Then he flung the dress on the bed.
“Change?” Maria said picking up the dress. It was a blue and green plaid dress, that matched the colors that the Scottish man wore. “Why would I change into this? I have my own clothes that I'm wearing.”
“Dress like a man? But you are a woman.” He shook his head, as if she were being daft. “Here, eat this. You will stay in this room until I have decided what to do with you. I still do not know if you're a spy sent here to cause trouble. Or you could be a witch,” the man said and then walked toward the door.
“Wait. You’re leaving? You’re not going to take me to Mr. Leslie?” she said.
“No, I will not take you to the Leslie Clan. But if I find out that you are a spy for them, I will take you back to them in pieces. Is that understood?” he said with a hard look on his face.
Maria felt frightened by his stern remark. She nodded her head yes. “I told you my name, what is yours?”
“You do not know who I am?” His thick brows rose, as though surprised by this fact.
“No. How would I know that?”
“The name is Cameron MacLeod,” he said, and then he walked out.
Maria sat down on the bed, confused and in despair.
Love A Highlander: A Scottish Time Travel Romance (A Highlander Across Time Book 1) Page 3