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

by Preston, Rebecca

  She doubted that very much, actually… but before she could argue with him, he'd turned and all but fled back into the stairwell from which he'd emerged. She let him go, grinning a little when she realized that the sounds she could hear up there were the other guardsmen jeering at him. Making fun of him, no doubt, for getting utterly trounced by a woman. That annoyed her a little. She was more than capable of giving anyone a tongue-lashing – her gender shouldn't come into it. Still, when she turned on her heel and strode away from the gate toward the castle, she couldn't help but feel a smug sense of satisfaction deep in her chest. She'd told him, that was for sure.

  Despite her victory, she found herself feeling oddly bereft as the days wore on. She made the decision that evening to avoid him as much as possible for the rest of her stay here – which seemed easy enough to do, given that he was working so much, and all of his shifts seemed to either be atop the wall or out patrolling the forest and surrounding road. Elena was able to give her a heads-up about roughly where he'd be so she could avoid him… there was an amused look in the woman's eyes as she filled Julia in on Galen's schedule, but the more she questioned her, the more she denied that there was any mirth lingering on her face. It was hard to argue with an ex-cop.

  Still, there was plenty to explore in the castle without going anywhere near the walls outside. She did manage to get some time to poke around in the stables, enjoying the sweet smell of hay and the spicy, sweaty scent of horses. The grooms and stable hands seemed happy enough to have her around – even more when she started offering to help out with chores here and there, wanting to find a way to make herself useful. She followed a similar pattern in the kitchens – first hovering around the outskirts, then finding a few dishes here and there to carry or to wash… before too long she'd made a few friends among the cooks, which came with the perk of being able to slip into the kitchen any time to see what had just been baked.

  Before she knew it, a whole week had passed since she'd arrived here. It was strange… she felt a sense of missing her own time, especially her family, but she couldn't feel any anxiety about what was going on there. The idea of her parents missing her, her workplace making calls to locate her… well, none of it was going to happen for hundreds of years, was it? So why bother worrying about it now? Sure, part of her did worry about what they'd think of her messy apartment and God forbid anyone look at her internet search history – but it was all academic, really. Right here and right now, that was what mattered. That was where she was living.

  And she was loving it. The castle was unbelievably exciting – it felt like she found some new nook or cranny to explore every single day, no matter how often she retreaded the same ground. She was getting to know all six of the other women better, with Karen making a couple of special trips up from the village just to visit with her. And she was getting fitter than she'd ever thought she could with all the running up and down stairs she was doing. And Anna had been right – the spiral staircases weren't as scary as they'd seemed. She even caught herself sliding down the bannisters a little here and there, a daring maneuver she didn't quite trust herself to repeat too much.

  Still, Galen kept weighing on her mind, as much as she was determined not to think about him. Out of sight didn't mean out of mind, it seemed – in idle moments, her mind would return to the subject of the sullen guardsman like a dog with a bone, chewing it over and over again. Just what the hell was his problem, anyway? Was he really just working through grief and over-reacting to her own very normal curiosity about this new world as a result? Or was there something darker there?

  She couldn't stop thinking about the first time she'd seen him – the deathly embrace he'd been in with that slender man with the unearthly green eyes. There had been such a look on his face… a look of utter, twisted loathing for the unarmed man he was grappling with. She had absolutely no doubt that if she hadn't intervened – or some other miracle hadn't happened – he'd have murdered the man in cold blood. And how was that fair? These were rough and dark times, sure, but the other man hadn't even had so much as a dagger on him. What could he have possibly been doing out there in the forest that would have warranted being stabbed through the heart with a knife? It didn't seem exactly… well, fair, that was the long and the short of it.

  She didn't know Galen very well – but what she'd learned of him so far didn't exactly endear her to him. Was it possible that there was something sinister afoot – that he was abusing his power as a member of the Watch to do harm to innocents…?

  Chapter 17

  Her worries were more than enough to keep her away from Galen – and if he noticed her absence, he certainly made no attempts to correct it. But she had plenty to keep her busy in the meantime. She'd spent plenty of time exploring the castle and had been especially intrigued by the enormous library on one of the upper floors – an archive, so she was told, of all of the information that the men and women of the Keep had amassed about the Fae over the years. She'd requested special permission from the Laird to be allowed to explore the archives, which he'd happily granted – wanting to keep her out of trouble, she suspected with a grin.

  But in the end, the archives were a little disappointing. Page after page of unbelievably detailed accounts of what was, for the most part, very mundane events… the weather, the behavior of cattle and other farm animals, even intricacies of the wind – all leading up to an encounter that wasn't much more thrilling than a shadow that moved strangely, or a creature half-sighted as it fled across a paddock at midnight. What she wanted from the archives was cold hard facts about the Sidhe and who they were, about the Faerie world she'd presumably moved through to be delivered here… but all she was finding in these books was stultifying data.

  She asked an archivist at one point, frustrated beyond belief by the tedious books she was reading, and he pointed her in a new direction… but even the most exciting book she could find was just page after page of drawings of goblins with paragraphs of details about where they'd been sighted, and by whom. No broader information about what a goblin was, where it came from, why it was an enemy and the Sidhe were all friends… or at least, that was the impression she'd gotten from the women. The books didn't help one way or the other. Was she just reading the wrong ones? Or was it possible that the really juicy information was stored elsewhere?

  "If you're interested in the Sidhe," the archivist said softly from behind her as she dropped her head onto the page of the unwieldy tome she was reading for the fifth time that hour, "you might want to talk to Maeve Grant."

  For a moment, she was shocked. Was there another time-travelling woman she hadn't met yet, a seventh bride of the Grants? She thought she was number seven… not that she was looking likely to be a bride any time soon, she thought sourly. "Who?"

  "Oh, you've not met Maeve?" The archivist smiled softly, coming to her side – she handed him the book with a heavy sigh, knowing in her heart that she wasn't going to get any further through it than she had already. "She may be a little more helpful as a … a living reservoir of knowledge, as it were."

  "Who is she?"

  "She was the previous Laird's wife, before his passing," the archivist said softly. "Our tanist Malcolm is her son – and she all but raised Laird Donal. The woman with silver eyes."

  "She's not from the future, is she?"

  The archivist chuckled, his eyes crinkling. "No, lass, she's not from your time. Though she's done her share of travel when it comes to the Fae, yes indeed."

  Mystified by this cryptic comment but determined to find out what the man was talking about, Julia left the archives, breathing a sigh of relief once the dusty smell of the old tomes was out of her nostrils. The place would have benefited from Google that was all. Quaint and charming the past may have been, but she'd never appreciated the availability of information in her own time… having the whole Internet at her fingertips was a luxury she sorely missed, and wished she'd savored. Still… she was still fairly sure she wouldn't go back, even if she was
offered the opportunity. Not when she was so close to learning more about actual, honest-to-God faeries.

  In the end, she found Maeve in the kitchens, humming to herself as her fine hands kneaded a lump of soft, malleable dough. She was vaguely familiar, and Julia realized with a guilty start that she'd seen her around the kitchens plenty – she'd just assumed the slender older woman was another of the gaggle of servants who were always moving in and out of the kitchen. A smile graced her handsome features as she looked up from the dough to see Julia.

  "Ah, it's you," she said, her voice warm. "Julia, isn't it? I was hoping we'd have a chance to meet. Maeve Grant. I'd offer you my hand, but…"

  Julia laughed as Maeve waggled a dough-encrusted hand, waving away the offer. "It's nice to meet you, Maeve. I think we've crossed paths, but –"

  "There are a lot of names and faces to learn, hmm?" Maeve smiled softly. "I can imagine it's a lot to go through. You and the others."

  "Can I help with this?"

  She rolled up her sleeves and moved in to help Maeve with the dough she was kneading. It seemed the plan was to make several batches of scones for afternoon tea in the castle, and Julia was more than happy to assist. Baking was always something she'd loved – but there wasn't much room for it in her tiny New York apartment, and with a dozen bakeries within a stone's throw of her front door, it didn't make much sense to go to all of that trouble with flour and bread. It felt good to dig her fingertips into the dough.

  "The archivist was telling me you might know a little more about faeries than the books up there," she said, glancing sideways at Maeve. Sure enough, up close she could see her eyes shining an odd silver color. Curious – she'd never seen anyone with eyes quite that color before. Gray, sure, but silver? They almost seemed to glow from within… she wondered why that was oddly familiar before it came to her. Just like the slender man that Galen had been trying to murder when she'd first arrived here.

  "I'm not sure I know more than the archives do." Maeve laughed. "But my knowledge might be a little more accessible. You're curious?"

  "How could I not be?" she said, shaking her head. "I mean – from what I've been told, I was teleported here through time and space by some race of immortal, all-powerful, magical… beings? That's just about the most curious thing I've ever heard of."

  "The Sidhe," Maeve supplied with a smile. "Yes, they're curious people, indeed."

  "What exactly is a Sidhe? Because everyone's been telling me they're the good guys who saved my life and brought me here – but then Galen was saying that someone he was trying to kill was a Sidhe too?"

  Maeve nodded. "The Faerie world is… complex. Much like our own," she said with a smile. "There are good men and evil men… and there are good Sidhe and, well… others." A shadow crossed her face. "Have you spent much time with Elena?"

  "A little," she said, tilting her head curiously. "Why?"

  "Elena had probably the closest brush with an Unseelie Sidhe of anyone in this place," she said softly. "She and her husband both. It nearly claimed both of their lives… as well as the lives of every man in this castle."

  A shiver ran down her spine. Somehow, she could tell that Maeve wasn't exaggerating. "That dangerous, huh? What do you mean, Unseelie? I've heard that word before."

  "Loosely speaking – the Seelie Fae are friendly to humankind, the Unseelie are decidedly not. Unseelie creatures like goblins come through the Burgh fairly regularly to cause mischief – we've had goblins, Sluagh, Wisps and all sorts over the last few years. They're generally unintelligent. But there are some exceptions. Unseelie Sidhe are mercifully much less common than the Seelie Sidhe who were responsible for bringing you here. But they are terrifyingly dangerous."

  Julia realized with a start that she'd stopped kneading the dough when Maeve touched her gently on the sleeve. Blushing a little at how captivated she'd been by the story, she redoubled her efforts, frowning a little. "So – Seelie, good guys, Unseelie, bad guys."

  Maeve laughed. "Maybe a little simplistic, but broadly, yes."

  "But they all use the doorway – the Burgh?"

  "The Burgh is ruled over by the Sidhe," Maeve clarified. "Unseelie Fae make use of it occasionally, but from what I can gather it's very much frowned upon. The Watch are allies of the Sidhe in that they hunt down any Unseelie Fae who use the Burgh against the orders of its owners. In return… well, they do what they can to help us. Including by sending us passengers from other eras," she added with a smile.

  "Right." Julia hesitated, not sure how to raise the next subject. "On the day I met him, Galen was fighting with a man with glowing green eyes."

  Maeve stilled, a thoughtful look on her face. "Is that so?"

  Chapter 18

  "He was unarmed, barely seemed to be fighting back – and when he escaped he ran away, didn't even try to fight. And Galen called him a Sidhe."

  Maeve tilted her elegant head, turning away from the dough she was kneading for a moment to give the matter closer consideration. "Galen would know," she said softly. "The men of the Watch have plenty of experience with the Fae… but you said they were fighting."

  "Yeah. Why would he be fighting one of the Sidhe, if they're the good guys? Wouldn't that cause a civil war, or something?"

  "Aye, very likely. Unless…" She frowned, tapping her flour-coated fingers lightly on the kitchen bench as her eyes flickered with thoughts. "It's possible all of this is a misunderstanding. Or it's possible that… well, it's highly unlikely, but it's happened before…"

  "What?"

  "That a Sidhe has, for whatever reason, turned to the Unseelie side of things," Maeve said solemnly, and the look in her eyes sent a shiver down Julia's spine. She may have been new to this world, but she could tell from Maeve's expression how serious a concern this would be – how frightened the people of this area ought to be of an Unseelie Sidhe. "There are courts, of course, beyond the one that owns our Burgh," she added thoughtfully. "But I've never visited with any beyond our own…"

  That caught Julia's attention. "Visited?"

  "Oh, yes." Maeve smiled, her silver eyes dancing. "I'm surprised you haven't heard. As a girl, I was spirited away to the Faewild."

  "Woah! So, you grew up there? How long were you there?"

  "Truly, it's impossible to say," Maeve said with a little shake of her head. "The way time passes here… well, it's entirely different over there. If time even passes, in the traditional sense. I've spent long years trying to puzzle it out. At any rate, I was a guest of theirs for a long while," she chuckled. "My eyes were a parting gift."

  "Your eyes –" Julia gazed at Maeve's striking silver eyes, newly fascinated now that she knew they were a supernatural gift. "Wow. So that's why you know so much about the Fae and the Sidhe and everything. Have you ever visited again?"

  "Not since I had my children," Maeve said softly, a smile dancing across her face. "The thing about the Fae… it's a beautiful place, and it captures your spirit like nothing else. But if I go back… well, there's no guarantee I'll ever return to this place. And I've unfinished business here – at least for now. I'd like to see my grandchildren grow up before I depart for good."

  The thought of returning to the Faerie world was fascinating… but Julia couldn't help thinking about the man she'd seen Galen fighting. His sleek blond hair, those glowing green eyes… surely someone so beautiful couldn't be Unseelie, couldn't see humankind as an enemy… right? "How can I find out?" she said, tilting her head. "Is there any way of telling whether a Sidhe is Seelie or Unseelie?"

  "You could ask." Maeve chuckled… but the tone in her voice suggested that that was perhaps a foolhardy idea. Still, the thought of seeing the man again was intriguing, and Julia leaned forward curiously.

  "He'd tell me?"

  "Oh, yes. The Sidhe do enjoy talking about themselves." Maeve chuckled. But then her face stilled. "But it would be very dangerous for you to attempt parley with a Sidhe, Julia. Please believe me – they are a difficult people to understand. And words
mean something very different to the Fae. The way we treat questions and promises is… almost unbearably informal, to the Sidhe. It would take a lifetime to explain," she added, shaking her head. "For now… will you trust me, and put away any thought of communicating with the Sidhe?"

  She nodded, not wanting Maeve to worry about her. There was something about the graceful older woman that just filled her with peace and joy… she wanted, very much, for her to be pleased with her, for her to be happy. But she couldn't help thinking about the prospect of going out and finding that strange blond man… if he was still on this side of the Burgh, that was. She and Maeve chatted about more inconsequential things as they finished baking, and when she headed upstairs later with flour still coating her clothing, she knew she had a lot to think through.

  But she'd promised Maeve she wouldn't attempt to make contact with the Sidhe, and she intended to keep that promise. That didn't mean she couldn't do more research, did it? She made a few more attempts on the archives but mentions of the Sidhe were few and far between, and often seemed to assume a kind of extant local knowledge about who they were and what they wanted. There were precious few pictures – a few sketches of the glowing figures she'd seen in her dream on the way through had been added in recent years, though, and she wondered if her fellow time-stranded women had had anything to do with that. To think that they'd all shared the same visions… it was kind of nice, knowing they had that in common. And it gave her an idea.

  "So, you're a detective."

  Elena raised her face from her lunch, an amused expression quirking her lips upwards. "Why do you bring that up so purposefully?"

  "I'm investigating a case." Julia grinned, taking a bite of a bread roll. She'd sought Elena out deliberately for lunch today. Usually, she'd dine with whoever was around – which was usually Anna and Nancy, occasionally Helen and sometimes Kay. Karen was usually in the village, tending to the sick of the area – Julia still hadn't had the opportunity to visit, but she was looking forward to it. But Elena was harder to find – she tended to be elusive, often opting to eat by herself or up in the quarters she shared with Brendan. This was a rare treat.