Woken By The Highlander: A Scottish Time Travel Romance-Highlander Forever Book 7

by Preston, Rebecca

  "Wait – you live here?"

  "All my life," Galen said, a smile twitching at his lips. "Come now, lass. You're welcome."

  And together, they set off across the narrow land bridge. Julia couldn't help but peer over the edges – though the bridge was wide enough for maybe six or seven men to walk abreast, it still felt frighteningly narrow. Scarier, too, when she looked over the edge and saw what a long drop there was to the waters below. She imagined armies trying to storm this castle, men lining up six or seven abreast trying to bring down the gates, and shivered, grateful when the gates were hauled open at a wave from Galen at her side. The curious men atop the battlements shouted enquiries down, but Galen just waved them off. She'd be the subject of some gossip later, she suspected… but somehow, that didn't bother her.

  It was all starting to feel a little too real. The castle, the soldier she'd met in the woods, the Loch Ness Monster… unless she started doubting the evidence of her own eyes — a slippery slope she'd prefer not to start sliding down — she had to admit that the proof she'd actually time traveled was mounting up. A couple of people on the road in costumes was one thing… the fight in the forest a little trickier, but still plausible as a performance… but an enormous medieval castle jutting out of the lake like some kind of… well, fortress? That wasn't something that could be faked.

  And if she was really here… that meant magic was real. That meant cryptids and monsters and all kinds of things were real. That meant… her heart leapt into her throat as the gates slid shut behind her, her pulse skyrocketing. That meant there were about a million more creatures for her to photograph. If only her camera wasn't broken! It didn't even occur to her that it might be difficult to find a place to charge a camera in the sixteenth century… she was too busy staring around at the courtyard.

  The floor of the courtyard seemed to be made of the same dark stone as the castle itself, and she imagined it would be very slippery when it rained. But she was quickly distracted from such pedestrian thoughts by a wide-eyed glance around the courtyard. It was surprisingly big, even dominated as it was by the foreboding façade of the castle reaching up into the sky. Over to the right, she saw a couple of low buildings – a man on horseback emerged from one, and she realized with a start that they were stables. But Galen was already heading toward the huge wooden doors set in the center of the castle's front wall, and she hastened after him, smiling at the sound of her still-soggy boots on the stone flagstones of the courtyard.

  They hastened up a low set of steps to the castle door, and she caught her breath yet again at the enormous entrance hall she found herself standing in. There were tapestries hanging from every wall, and she was shocked by how vivid the colors were – all the images her brother had shown her of old-fashioned tapestries like this seemed faded and brown… and then she realized, with dawning shock, that it was time that had faded the colors, that once they'd been as bright as … well, as bright as these. But there was no time to marvel at the tapestries – Galen was beckoning her onwards toward a door set in the far wall. She followed him obediently, annoyed that he couldn't even give her a moment to appreciate the fact that she was standing in an honest-to-God medieval castle. What if it had been him in her place? What if he'd been transported back in time to … to the eleventh century, she supposed? If she was honest, she didn't know what the difference would have been… but she imagined he would have.

  The hallway, to her surprise, led to a winding spiral staircase. She followed him up, biting her lip as she reflected on what would happen if he stumbled and fell – she'd probably be crushed to death. What a way to go out. Thankfully, they made it up unscathed, and she found herself hastening down yet another hallway.

  "Galen! Where the hell are we going?"

  "Here," he said simply, stopping at yet another wooden door and rapping on it with his knuckles. She glanced around her, realizing that the hallway was full of similar doors – were these the rooms she'd seen from the ground level, with their little narrow windows looking out onto the Loch and the surrounding countryside? Did that mean they were visiting someone?

  "I'll introduce you to the Laird," Galen explained as he waited, glancing over his shoulder at her as she marveled at another tapestry that was hung here on the wall. "Then we'll find you some quarters for the time being, until you meet whoever it is the Sidhe have decided you're destined for."

  "What does that mean?" she said, frowning. The Sidhe brought her here because of – something to do with what was happening in her life, hadn't he said? So, what was this about being destined for someone here?

  "Oh, I didn't mention, did I?" Galen said, frowning. But before she could ask for more information, the door swung open – and her eyes widened as she found herself face to face with the Laird of the castle.

  Chapter 8

  The Laird wasn't quite as tall as Galen, but he had a similar bearing – powerful, broad-shouldered, unapologetic about the amount of space he took up. To her surprise, though, he was younger than she was expecting – he must have been in his mid-twenties, with clear gray eyes that reminded her a great deal of Galen, though his hair was blond instead of Galen's dark curls. His foreboding countenance was somewhat altered by the fact that a small blonde child was hanging onto his leg, peering curiously up at Galen and Julia with a pair of enormous dark brown eyes that were just about enough to melt Julia's heart.

  "Well, hello –" she started, before realizing that it was probably some kind of medieval faux pas to greet a Laird's child before greeting him.

  Galen cleared his throat.

  "Laird Donal," he said firmly, shooting Julia a warning look. "May I introduce you to Julia Andersen."

  "Nice to meet you," she said, biting her lip and offering a strange little bow. The little girl clinging to her father's leg was still peering at her, though she giggled a little at the bow, which put Julia's worry at ease. Laird Donal, for his part, was smiling at her curiously.

  "Julia, it's good to meet you," he said softly, though the tone of his voice suggested he was waiting for more information from Galen.

  The guard cleared his throat. "Found her wandering about in the woods. Her story's just like all the others."

  "Is that so?" A smile broke out across Donal's handsome face, making him look younger. "It's a shame – Anna's out on a ride with Nancy. You're most welcome to Castle Urquhart, Julia. Has Galen told you what has happened to you?"

  She took a deep breath. "I was shot by hunters and instead of bleeding out on the trail, some magical interdimensional faeries snatched me through some kind of secret portal, presumably healed my gunshot wound somehow, then dumped me in Loch Ness, where the literal Loch Ness Monster helped me to the surface. Is that about it?"

  Laird Donal surprised her with a low, rumbling laugh, his eyes dancing. "Aye, that's about the long and short of it. She's tough," he added to Galen, raising an eyebrow. "Not every guest we have in your situation is always quite so… resilient."

  She shrugged her shoulders. "I've never really had time for denial. This obviously isn't a dream or a hallucination, and even the best historical re-enactors couldn't have built a castle like this one. So – sure. Time travel. Magic, faeries, why not."

  Donal smiled. "And has Galen told you much about the Castle? About Clan Grant and what we do here?"

  "Grant – you two are related, then?"

  "Aye, we're kin," Galen said gruffly. "I didn't say much about the Clan."

  "The gateway you passed through to get here is called a Burgh, Julia," Donal explained, reaching down to grab the child clinging to his leg and scooping her effortlessly into his arms. She giggled as he settled her on his hip, putting a thoughtful finger in her mouth as she continued to stare curiously at Julia. "It's a gateway between the world of the Fae and our own world. And there's a reason that Clan Grant lives in this castle. We serve as – well, a gateway, I suppose. Mediators between the world of the Fae and the human world, which more often than not discount the creatures that ente
r our world as myths or old wives tales. We do our best to maintain diplomacy with the Seelie Fae – like the Sidhe, who brought you here, benevolent Fae who mean well. And when the Unseelie Fae slip through to cause mischief – well, we deal with them, too."

  She blinked, a little taken aback by all of this. "Okay. And that's what your – your Night Watch, or whatever, that's what you do?" she asked Galen, raising an eyebrow. "You fight faeries?"

  "Something like that," he said gruffly, shooting Donal a look when the Laird made a sound that was suspiciously close to a laugh.

  "You're getting the hang of the place already," Donal said with a smile. "There's much more to learn, of course. But as I said – you're the seventh woman to come to us this way, so you'll have no shortage of companionship in finding your place here."

  "My place?" She tilted her head, a little confused. "I'm very grateful for the hospitality, but – I won't be staying long, I don't think. As unbelievably cool as this is – I mean, I've got work to do. I'll have to get back through the Burgh sooner or later."

  But a shadow passed across Donal's face. "That's the bad news, I'm afraid," he said softly, shaking his head. "You're certainly not the first to want to go back… but unfortunately, there's no way we've been able to find of returning any time-lost travelers to their own world. You mentioned that you were wounded, in your own world?"

  A brief, vague memory of the deafening gunshot she'd heard just before losing consciousness… a shiver ran down Julia's spine at the thought. "Yeah. I mean, I didn't feel it or anything, but I definitely heard gunfire."

  "It's likely that the impact killed you," Donal explained softly. "The Sidhe would have snatched you away from that fate and granted you a new life here… but it means that even if you were to return, you'd meet the death that they helped you escape. There's no going back, Julia. I'm sorry."

  She took a deep, shaky breath, trying to confront this new information. No returning to her home, to her life, to the Adirondacks? It was hard to even imagine. Her car, parked in the lot… even her suitcase sitting in her bed and breakfast. Her apartment, back in New York. All those emails she'd been avoiding… they were all gone. She'd never see her family again. She'd never see Joseph again… well, that last one wasn't so bad, but the rest… she realized there were tears standing in her eyes when the little girl in Donal's eyes made a curious sound and reached out a chubby hand toward her.

  "I'm alright," she said automatically, giving the little girl a tearful smile as she wiped her face. "I'm alright, sweetheart, look!"

  "This is Gwyneth," Donal said softly, jostling the girl a little on his hip. "She's an utter menace to the castle folk, I'm afraid. Isn't that right, Gwynnie?"

  The girl chortled proudly, gazing up at her father with a look of adoration that made Julia feel like crying all over again. She'd lost her own father a few years earlier – lung cancer, despite him never having smoked a day in his life. Strange, how things like that happened… how the pain came back to bite at you, years later. Maybe, she thought with amusement, he hadn't actually died. Maybe the Sidhe had come to his hospital bed and spirited him away into the past, to live out the rest of his life happy and cancer-free in… Jacobean England, or something.

  She realized she was beginning to feel a little delirious, and she took a deep breath to steady herself. "So, your wife – she's like me? From the present – from the future, I mean?"

  "Aye, she is," Laird Donal said with a smile. "I understand she was a soldier in your time. Devastatingly good with a sword, too. She was the first of these lost women to turn up on our doorstep. Nancy followed – she's married now to my cousin."

  "Are the Sidhe matchmakers or something?" Julia joked. But the look on Galen and Donal's faces made the smile fade from her eyes. "What?"

  "It's not a bad theory," Galen said with a grunt, shrugging his shoulders.

  "The truth is – every time-stranded woman has ended up marrying a member of the family," Donal explained, shrugging his shoulders. "Whether it's coincidence or fate we're not sure… but we're beginning to suspect the Sidhe have more in mind than just saving these women's lives when they bring them to our doorstep. Not that I mind," he added, smiling softly down at his daughter. "Everything good in my life is courtesy of the Sidhe."

  "So, does that mean I'm destined to meet my soulmate here?" Julia said, raising an eyebrow.

  Galen dissolved into a coughing fit, and Donal pounded him on the back, a roguish grin on his face.

  "It's possible," he acknowledged. "The clan has no shortage of single men. Why, look at Galen, here."

  "Don't," Galen croaked, pointing a warning finger at Donal. "Don't you start."

  "At any rate, you'll meet more of the Clan tonight," Donal said resolutely. "A feast, I think, to welcome you properly – and give you the opportunity to meet everyone. But for now, I'm sure you're dying for some rest and sustenance. Galen, would you mind showing her to some guest quarters?"

  And with that, she was away again, her mind whirling with all the new information. A castle to explore – her new home? – and a potential future husband to be met? Galen's face was flushed pink, and she thought better of asking him about it all. It was pretty clear that he wasn't her husband-to-be – someone so grumpy and standoffish would never do. But she couldn't stop her mind straying back to the slender blond man with the glowing green eyes.

  Was it possible that he was an option…?

  Chapter 9

  Galen stomped down the hallway, clearly not interested in talking to her any more now that she'd been handed over to the Laird. Did that mean she was someone else's problem now? Would she ever see him again? He'd technically helped her out by showing her to the castle – never mind that she'd been heading that way regardless – so she took a breath when they stopped outside a wooden door, preparing to thank him graciously for all his help. But Galen didn't seem interested in that. He opened the door brusquely, gesturing inside – the room was small but neat, with a narrow bed by one of those quaint narrow windows that seemed to look out over the courtyard, with a more distant view of the forest beyond. She peered through it, fascinated.

  "I'll advise the servants you're staying here. You'll have missed breakfast, but they'll bring you up something to eat. I'll see if any of the women have a change of clothes for you they can send along," he added, giving her attire a doubtful look. Despite her determination to be polite, Julia couldn't help but bristle.

  "And what's wrong with what I'm wearing?"

  "It's downright bizarre," he said bluntly. "You look strange and you'll draw attention. It's not your fault," he added with something like kindness, clearly mistaking her thunderstruck look for embarrassment. "I'm sure these are – normal enough in your own time."

  "Very kind," she managed, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. They were hiking clothes that was all. What was his problem? Still – she'd decided to be nice. This was a new world, a new life she was beginning – it wouldn't make sense to start off by making an enemy. So, she forced a smile onto her face. "Galen – thank you for all your help this morning. Really, I'm grateful."

  "No need," the terse guard said with a shrug of those enormous shoulders. "It's my duty. You settle in well, now."

  And with that, he was gone, his boots thumping off down the hallway, leaving her grinding her teeth as she stared after him. She was just grateful she'd met the pleasant Laird, as well as the couple of friendly folks on the road – otherwise, she'd be getting very worried that she'd wound up in a land full of grumpy old sods. The nerve of the man! No need, just doing my job… what a jerk. She closed the door harder than she'd intended, then took a deep breath, letting it out through her nose and trying to let go of her vexation with Galen at the same time. Just where did he get off, being so grumpy…?

  It was a pleasant little room, though. A broad table to one side with a chair – she ran her hand over the surface, marveling at how smooth and well-worn it was. The bed was calling to her, and she sat on it, prepared for lu
mps – but pleasantly surprised at how soft it was. There was what seemed to be a hand-sewn quilt on the bed – then again, she thought with a blink, what other kind of sewing was there these days? – and she ran her hand across it, pleasantly surprised by how soft it felt… and how warm it must be. Was it fall here like it had been back home? She thought it must be. Her mind was beginning to race with questions about exactly where she was and how it all worked – which was why she jumped so sharply when a soft tapping at the door interrupted her thoughts.

  "Hello?" she yelped, bolting to her feet for all the world as though she'd been caught doing something wrong. The door creaked open, and a small woman stood there, green eyes wide with concern. She couldn't have been more than eighteen or nineteen, and the slightly dusty white apron she wore suggested that she might work in the kitchen – as did the covered tray in her hands. Was this one of the servants Galen had mentioned? "Oh, hello."

  "Good morning, ma'am," the girl squeaked, sketching an odd, awkward little curtsey while trying to keep the tray upright. "Galen Grant's advised us you're new to the castle."

  "That's right," she said, hesitating. "Do you need help with the tray, or –"

  "Oh, no, ma'am, you rest yourself! You must be exhausted with a journey like yours…" The girl bustled over to the table and set the tray down, setting about uncovering the meal and setting out cutlery for it. Julia had never felt especially comfortable being waited on – even at the bed and breakfast, she much preferred to make her own bed and tidy her own things, finding it uncomfortable when other people did work for her that ought to be her own responsibility. But she didn't want to offend the girl by stopping her in her work.

  "I suppose so," she said vaguely, sitting down on the bed. Did she feel tired? She supposed she'd technically been up all night. "I wasn't really responsible for much of the travel, of course…"