Dreams of a Highlander

by Katy Baker

  "Brigands," Quinn answered. "They've been raiding our lands."

  She leaned forward. Her eyes gleamed with reflected firelight. "So ye claim. Yet ye could have returned with yer news to the castle. Instead ye chose to stay out here alone. Why is that?"

  Quinn didn't like the way she watched him. Her words made him uncomfortable. It was true that he often felt more at peace out here away from the demands of the clan, the weight of responsibility and expectation. It had grown worse since what happened to Duncan, his elder brother.

  "Ye are talking nonsense, woman," Quinn growled. "Ye know nothing about me."

  "Don't I? I know this, Quinn MacFarlane. Ye will soon have a choice to make. Make the right one and ye could have yer heart's desire. Mayhap then ye'll stop searching. Mayhap then ye'll be happy instead of weighed down with guilt."

  Quinn opened his mouth for an angry retort. How dare this woman preach at him? She knew nothing about him! But one look at the expression on her face stopped him. Her hard stare seemed to see right into his soul. He swallowed.

  "Who are ye?" he whispered.

  Irene MacAskill tossed the grouse bones into the fire then climbed to her feet. "A friend. Perhaps ye'll realize that at the end. Remember what I've told ye. Make the right choice."

  With that she turned and disappeared into the night.

  Quinn scrambled to his feet and called after her. He grabbed a burning brand from the fire and went searching all around the camp. There was no sign of Irene MacAskill.

  ***

  Darcy sped along the winding road, letting her hair stream out behind her. She'd splashed out and hired a convertible and she was glad of it. The sensation of cruising along with the wind in her hair, the hills of the Highlands on one side, a gleaming loch on the other, was exhilarating.

  Irene MacAskill’s guide book lay on the passenger seat beside her. The strange woman had marked some places in the book and Darcy had decided to visit a few of them. She couldn't quite explain why. She just somehow felt it was the right thing to do.

  The conference had ended last night. Darcy had called Gretchen and told her she wouldn't be home for a week or so. She was going to follow her friend's advice and take some time out. Gretchen was pleased, of course, and made Darcy promise to bring her back a bottle of authentic scotch whisky.

  This morning Darcy had checked out of her hotel, hired a car and set out. She hadn't booked a hotel or planned an itinerary. She'd just driven; following the route Irene MacAskill had marked and seen what she found when she arrived. Having no plan, no destination in mind was oddly liberating.

  Glancing to her left Darcy looked out over the loch. Fishing boats bobbed on its surface and on the far side Darcy spotted a village. Maybe she'd go visit. That was the beauty of having no plan. She could go exactly where her whims took her.

  Darcy slowed for the bend ahead. She grabbed the gear stick and the gears crunched horribly as she changed down. She'd still not gotten used to right-hand drive or the gears.

  "Damn it!" she muttered, fighting furiously with the gear stick.

  She looked up and nearly had a heart attack when she saw a deer standing directly in her path. Darcy screamed, slammed her foot against the brake pedal and swerved. There was a thump and for one terrifying moment the car spun sideways before coming to a halt in a screech of tires.

  Heart thumping Darcy threw open the car door and scrambled out. She looked around wildly. The deer was just disappearing over a rise. Darcy couldn't tell if it was injured but she assumed it must be.

  "Oh god," she muttered. "Oh god."

  She ran around to the trunk of the car and pulled out her medical bag. Then she took off after the deer. The vet in her was screaming that she must help the poor creature. She only hoped she'd be able to do so.

  She reached the rise where she'd last seen the deer and saw it ambling along the loch shore. Darcy scrambled down the hillside, slipping and sliding most of the way until she reached the beach. A little further along the hillsides became steep cliffs and Darcy saw that one of them formed a natural stone arch that arced over the shore and into the waters of the loch.

  The deer stood on the other side, looking back at her.

  Darcy approached slowly. She didn't want to spook it. The deer didn't look injured but Darcy knew wild animals were good at hiding injuries. It was a survival technique to fool predators.

  "Easy," Darcy murmured as she walked slowly closer. "I won't hurt you. I just want to check you're okay."

  The deer watched her with large, liquid eyes. Its nose twitched, testing the air. Darcy had almost reached it when the creature bounded away along the beach.

  Darcy cursed under her breath. She glanced up at the archway looming over her. There was something about it that seemed familiar. Was this marked in Irene MacAskill’s guidebook?

  It didn't matter. On the other side, Darcy's patient was getting away.

  Darcy took a deep breath and stepped through the arch.

  Chapter 3

  As she stepped through the archway, something caught her foot and she stumbled, skidding to her knees on the sand. With a grumbled curse, she climbed to her feet and brushed off her jeans. There was a small tear on her right leg.

  "Great," she murmured. "Just perfect!"

  She turned in a slow circle. The deer was nowhere in sight. It obviously neither wanted nor needed her help. She'd done what she could. Time to return to the hire car and hope it wasn't too badly damaged.

  Glancing to her right at the loch, Darcy noticed that the fishing boats had disappeared. Then she noticed something else: the settlement she'd seen on the far side of the loch was no longer there.

  Odd, Darcy thought.

  Darcy turned around to retrace her steps. But as she took a step to return through the archway, she realized that water now filled the area underneath it. Before there had been a thin strip of shoreline but now the archway rose straight out of the water and Darcy couldn't see the bottom.

  What's going on? she thought. The loch isn't tidal. Why had the water level changed like that?

  Whatever the explanation, it was clear that she wouldn't be returning that way. She had no idea of the water’s depth and it would be just her luck to end up getting a dunking.

  There was a path in front of her, however. There was still a strip of shoreline leading up to the low cliffs that ringed the shore. The path turned left from her position and climbed one of those cliffs in a switch-back trail.

  With a shrug she started on the path, hoping she'd be able to double back to the car. She soon realized it was much steeper than it appeared. In places she was forced to scrabble on all fours, grabbing fistfuls of heather to help pull her up. By the time she reached the top she was puffing and panting. Her medical bag had never felt so heavy.

  She straightened, looking around. There was no sign of the road or her car. Darcy frowned. Had she gotten turned around somehow? Surely her sense of direction wasn't that bad? She began hiking, hoping to hit the road.

  But she didn't.

  Twenty minutes passed and Darcy saw nothing and nobody. She stopped. If she carried on wandering like this, she would just get herself more lost.

  "Okay, time to admit defeat," she muttered.

  She pulled her cell phone from her bag and was about to dial the local police when she noticed the icon in the top right corner of the screen flashing to show there was no signal.

  "Wonderful!" Darcy cried, throwing up her hands.

  She held the cell phone up as high as possible and walked around the hilltop, trying to find a signal. It was no good. Her phone was useless.

  She fought down a sudden surge of panic. Okay, so she was in the middle of nowhere with no path in sight. So what? This place was full of tourists so she was bound to come across someone eventually and she'd ask them for directions. In the meantime, she'd start following the line of the loch back the way she'd come. If she kept the loch on her left she would reach her car or find a road or something. Eventually.


  Hefting her bag, she began walking. Her nostrils widened as she picked up an acrid scent wafting on the breeze. Wood smoke. She searched for its source and spotted a thin plume of smoke up ahead. She also heard the hum of conversation. With relief, she hurried on towards the smoke, hoping she'd stumbled across some campers who would let her use their phone, or even better, give her a lift back to her car.

  She topped a rise and found herself looking down into a sheltered dell. On one side a small fire burned. Something was cooking on a pit over the fire – a rabbit by the looks of it – and three men were seated cross-legged round the fire talking quietly.

  Darcy waved. "Hello! Sorry to interrupt your lunch."

  The men looked up sharply. They seemed to be wearing traditional Scottish dress – a long plaid wrap over brown pants and soft leather boots. Maybe it was designed to impress tourists. They could wear evening dresses and tiaras for all Darcy cared, just as long as they let her use their phone.

  "Sorry to startle you," she said. "But I've gotten myself a bit lost." She held up her cell phone and waved it at them. "I can't get a signal. Could I borrow your phone?"

  The men looked at each other with puzzled expressions. Then one of them slowly climbed to his feet. He was tall and heavily muscled. Black hair hung to his shoulders in matted tangles. He had a huge sword strapped to his waist.

  Darcy licked her lips. Probably plastic, that’s all. A replica to add authenticity to his costume. These guys were obviously part of some kind of tourist attraction. That would explain their clothes and weapons. Yes, that must be it.

  "What do you want, lass?" the man called.

  "To use your phone," Darcy repeated. "Unless you can give me directions to the road? I left my car but can't find it again! Stupid of me, I know, but I'm new to these parts."

  The man frowned. He glanced at his companions who shrugged. "Have ye suffered a knock on the head, woman? Yer words make nae sense to me."

  Darcy paused, taken aback. "I'm sorry?"

  The man craned his head to look behind Darcy. "Where are yer companions? This is a dangerous place to be out alone."

  Dangerous? What was he talking about?

  "Look, I think we've got crossed wires here. I just want to use your phone. But if you haven't got one that's fine. I'll just be on my way."

  "I havenae got any wires, crossed or otherwise, although why ye should need it I canna ken," the man replied. "Where are yer kin folk?"

  "My kin folk? You mean my family? Why do you want to know that?"

  She took a few steps back. She was starting to regret approaching these men. She didn't like the way they were watching her. The two by the fire were leering and nudging each other in a way that sent a tingle of alarm down her spine.

  "It's not safe for a woman to be out on her own in these parts. Not without her men-folk to protect her. So I wonder: what brings ye to our fire? Perhaps ye've come looking for us to warm ye up, eh?"

  His companions grinned. "I know just how to warm this one up," one of the men said, rubbing his groin.

  Panic spiked through Darcy. Yes, this had definitely been a bad idea. She spun around and sprinted but she'd only gone three steps when strong fingers grabbed her wrist and yanked her around. The black-haired man pulled her against him, pinning her arms against his chest.

  "Where do ye think yer going in such a hurry?" he asked. "Don't yer ken it's impolite to turn down our offer of hospitality?"

  "Let me go!" Darcy yelled. She pulled back her leg and kicked him in the shin as hard as she could.

  The man grunted in pain but he didn't loosen his grip. With a growl of annoyance he dragged her down the hill towards the campfire. Darcy yelled and screamed, hoping somebody nearby would hear and come running to her aid. This only seemed to amuse the men more.

  "Ye can scream yer heart out, lass. There's nobody here but us. The MacFarlanes are the only clan nearby and they are too far away to help ye."

  He dragged her into the circle around the campfire and pushed her roughly to her knees. She landed heavily, her knees smacking into the hard rock that was only just below the surface of the soil. One of the men loomed over her. He pulled her bag from her grasp and tossed it away.

  "Are you crazy?" Darcy yelled at him. "What the hell are you doing? Let me go, you asshole!" She surged to her feet and aimed another kick at the man.

  He danced out of her reach and laughed. "Yer a fiery one, aren't ye? Sit down, be quiet and you'll nae be harmed. Carry on like this and I'll tie ye up and gag ye besides."

  Darcy fought down her panic and forced herself to think. She could try to run. But there were three of them and only one of her, they'd probably catch her before she'd gone more than a few meters. She could scream for help. But that hadn't helped so far and she had no doubt he would follow through with his threat of gagging her. No, she needed to keep calm. She needed to think.

  Raising her chin, she glared at the man. "What are you going to do with me?"

  "Well, that's the question isn't it?" the man replied.

  "Let's have some fun with her, Hamish," one of the men said. "She's asking for it. Why else would a woman be out here on her own?"

  "Quiet, Conn," Hamish growled. "Yer not paid to think, remember? We'll nae lay a hand on her. Lord John will want this one, especially if she's some runaway from the MacFarlanes. We'll take her to him and let him decide what to do with her."

  Conn paled a little, obviously afraid of this Lord John but was persistent. "Damn Lord John! He sends us out on these raids for days at a time with nae a warm bed or a warm woman in sight. How will he know if we have a bit of fun with her?"

  Hamish lunged forward and landed a punch to Conn's face that snapped his head to the side. "Fool! Ye want to risk his wrath for a quick roll with some wench? Have ye forgotten what happened to Sean? You'll nae lay a hand on her, is that clear?"

  Conn rubbed his cheek where a red welt was appearing and glared at Hamish sullenly. "Aye. Whatever ye say."

  Darcy stared in horror at the three men. Their casual violence made her stomach churn. What the hell had she stumbled into? Was this some kind of criminal gang? If so, why were they out here miles from anywhere? None of this made any sense. But one thing was clear: for now she'd have to go along with what they wanted. If she didn't, she'd get hurt.

  "Okay," she breathed. "I'll do what you want."

  Hamish nodded. "Wise choice." He jerked his head at the other two. "Get packed up and put that fire out. Time we got moving. We don't want the MacFarlanes turning up looking for their lost sheep." He grinned suddenly. "They'll be mighty angry when they find we've captured one of their own. Lord John will most likely give us a reward."

  This seemed to please the men. They scrambled to their feet and began gathering up their meager possessions. One of them wrapped the remaining meat in a piece of cloth and kicked soil over the fire. In moments they were ready to move.

  Hamish pushed Darcy ahead of him and she managed to grab her bag and hold it against her chest. She went meekly as they left the dell, trying her best to seem subdued and compliant. She'd learned from her years as a vet that when surrounded by predators it was better to appear submissive. But inside, she felt anything but submissive. She was seriously pissed off. Who the hell did these men think they were?

  The very first person or car she saw she intended to run off yelling and have the police pick these assholes up and throw the book at them. And if they didn't happen across anyone who could help her? Well, she'd just have to help herself.

  She was going to escape.

  Chapter 4

  Quinn MacFarlane shifted his weight. He'd been lying on his elbows on top of the hillock for so long that his arms and shoulders were starting to go numb. The coarse heather kept scratching his skin through his plaid and the hot summer sun was making beads of sweat run down his forehead and dampen the shoulder-length braids he wore at the front of his raven-dark hair.

  He'd found the brigands. They sat in the dell bel
ow, oblivious to Quinn watching them from above. Fools, the three of them. But dangerous fools nonetheless.

  Quinn took out his quill and ink and scratched some more letters into the parchment, descriptions of the three men along with everything he'd been able to figure out since he'd started following their trail again this morning.

  He frowned, rubbing at the two-day-old stubble that covered his chin. He was sure these brigands were the men he’d been looking for. So far they'd only taken live-stock and burned a few outbuildings but Quinn's brother, Laird Robert MacFarlane, was concerned that they would get bolder unless something was done about it.

  Quinn shared his concerns. Coming this far south was a risky tactic. It took him mighty close to their neighbors, the Murrays, and there was no love lost between the two clans. But it was a risk he must take.

  The three men had settled down in the lee of the hill. One of them started a fire and they'd begun cooking the rabbit they'd snared earlier. They seemed confident, relaxed, totally unaware that Quinn was watching them.

  Quinn frowned. Something didn't fit. The men looked well fed and carried weapons that had recently been sharpened. They didn't look like the average brigand living in the wild and preying on travelers.

  Quinn felt sure there was more to this. Somebody else, somebody powerful and with a grudge against the MacFarlanes was supplying these people with weapons and resources.

  The brigands had mentioned a Lord John. Could it be John de Clare?

  Will I never be free of that man? Quinn thought. Has he not done enough with taking Duncan from us? Must he still plague my family?

  Quinn felt his body tense and forced himself to relax. It did no good thinking about that now. He had to focus on the task in hand.

  He was just close enough that he could make out the men's muttered conversation. He strained his ears trying to pick up anything that would hint at their plans but they seemed to be bickering over who should cut up the rabbit.

  "Hello?" a voice suddenly called from below.

  Quinn turned his head to see a young woman approaching the dell. She'd come from the direction of the loch. " Hello! Sorry to interrupt your lunch."