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

by Preston, Rebecca

  Sure enough, there was a band of visitors standing outside the gates – maybe a dozen of them, unfamiliar people, led by a man in what she recognized as priest's robes. Could this be Father Caleb, the priest she'd heard so much about? He looked – shockingly young, if she was honest, maybe in his early to mid-twenties, with a wet-behind-the-ears look that made her wonder at whether he was the respected spiritual leader that Galen had described to her. But the villagers around him seemed to defer to him when he cleared his throat.

  "A committee from the Village," he called through to the guards. "We request an audience with the Laird." One of the villagers leaned forward to whisper in his ear, a dark look on her face. "Demand," Father Caleb corrected himself. "We demand an audience with the Laird."

  "That's not good," Galen murmured to Julia, taking her hand and leading her back toward the castle. She frowned, following him obediently as the gate behind them squeaked open and the visitors were ushered through toward the Keep. She'd been worried Galen was going to try to hide her away… but he seemed to understand that she wasn't going to stand for missing out on any interesting happenings in the castle, and instead lead her into the dining hall and found them a seat in the back of the room. She realized what he was up to right away – the Laird was here, dining with his advisors as they discussed the ongoing issues with Glimmerbright, and presumably the group of villagers would be given their audience here.

  "Good thinking," she whispered to Galen, who tipped her a wink.

  The priest led the little group of villagers into the Hall shortly, escorted by half a dozen guards, all of whom looked just about as curious as Julia felt. They, too, stood around the perimeters of the hall, clearly wanting to know what the audience was about. Captain Brendan was seated at the high table with the Laird, and she could see the curiosity on his face mingling with concern.

  "Father Caleb," Laird Donal said, looking surprised. "Always a pleasure to have you within our walls. What brings you to us?"

  But the woman who'd leaned forward to whisper in his ear outside the gate pushed forward first. She was an older woman, perhaps in her fifties or sixties, with her gray hair pulled back into a tight bun on top of her head and a pair of sharp blue eyes that didn't dart away from the Laird in deference. Father Caleb seemed to defer to her, too, and Julia hid a smile. She'd known more than a few women like this… they tended to run the parent-teacher associations back home, but she supposed humans didn't change that much over the decades.

  "We need a solution, Laird Donal," the woman said firmly, her voice echoing in the Hall. "These crop failures, the attacks on our livestock… it has to stop."

  Laird Donal looked surprised. "Aye, we're in agreement there. We're currently discussing –"

  "With all due respect, Laird Donal," the woman said sharply, in the kind of tone that suggested without outright stating that she felt that 'all due respect' was 'very little respect indeed' – "we're not interested in what you're discussing up here in your well-defended Keep. You've had months to discuss – during which we've been facing down famine and having our children lured away toward the woods. We almost lost young Michael last night," she said, a murmur of worried agreement going up among the gaggle of villagers. "Enough is enough. It's time we take action. We want the witch."

  Julia felt a chill run through her at the word, felt Galen's hand tighten around hers… and saw a flash of anger on Laird Donal's face that was gone as quickly as it arrived. "What do you mean?" he asked levelly, his face not giving anything away.

  "The witch you're harboring here," the woman said firmly, folding her arms across her chest. "Hand her over to us and we'll be on our way."

  "This is not the first such accusation we've heard," Laird Donal said, rising to his feet and suddenly looking a great deal taller than he had.

  The woman, to her credit, didn't seem intimidated… but Julia did notice her shoot a quick glance toward Father Caleb, whose face had gone rather pale at the sudden turn the conversation had taken.

  "I'm very interested to hear what has led you to the conclusion that a witch is being harbored here."

  "It's clear from what's happening out there," the woman said firmly. "And we've heard tales of a newcomer to the Keep. Another of those strange women you keep taking in here."

  Julia fought an urge to hide her face, feeling suddenly very strange. It was odd, sitting in a room while people who didn't know you were present talked about you… but to her utter shock, she felt Galen rocket to his feet beside her and stride toward the high table. One look at his face, even from this angle, told her everything she needed to know – he'd lost his temper. His jaw was tight, and his eyes were blazing, and she was utterly torn between dismay that he was about to pick a fight on her behalf… and a kind of fond amusement, a satisfaction that he was willing to defend her.

  Even if it might just make the entire situation about a thousand times worse.

  "What was that about witchcraft?" Galen demanded, his voice echoing from the walls. The villagers exchanged worried glances, clearly confused by this guard. Donal was looking at Galen too, a warning look on his face, though Julia couldn't help but notice that he didn't interfere or try to stop him from speaking. "Am I to understand that you fools believe we're harboring the very thing that's causing the problems in the area? The problems we've lost several good men trying to solve for you?"

  A mumble went up among the villagers, but the woman at their head didn't back down. She turned her unflinching gaze to Galen, straightening her back and narrowing her eyes. "Aye, that's right," she said firmly. "So, hand the witch over to us, and we'll be on our way."

  "You ignorant fools," Galen snapped – and that made the Laird start forward, reaching out to put a steadying hand on his forearm. But the damage was done… the villagers had broken out into angry muttering, and the woman Julia now realized was their leader was shaking her head, a smug smile playing around her face. "Every time there's a threat to your lives or your livelihood, we're there sorting it out. And every time, you turn on your protectors like cornered animals. Have some spine. Have some faith," he snarled, shaking his head. "Men have died to keep you safe and yet you accuse us –"

  "Men have died because of the witch in your walls," the woman shouted hotly.

  The guards around the walls had started forward too, anger on their faces at the disrespect to their lost companions. Julia felt her heart leap into her throat at the tension in the room, scanning the crowd of villagers worriedly. None of them appeared to be armed or dangerous, and she knew that the guards were well-disciplined men who would do their best not to do any harm… but the scene was still tense, and she knew from what Galen had told her about relations between the Keep and the village that this situation had the potential to do a great deal of damage. Should she do something? If she stepped forward, revealed herself as the so-called 'witch' who was alleged to be doing all this damage… maybe they'd be satisfied with that, somehow? Maybe if she could somehow prove she wasn't a witch… but how did you prove a negative?

  She was on her feet when the door behind them slammed open, putting a stop to the shouted conversation with an eerie suddenness. There in the doorway stood a strange figure – barely five foot tall, wrapped in what looked like about forty layers of ragged fabric, more like a pile of rags than a human shape. Julia was nonplussed. Who – or what – was this?

  But the expression on Galen's face when she turned to look at him was thunderstruck. And realization hit her when Laird Donal stepped forward, a broad smile breaking out over his face.

  "Maggie! It's so good to see you again at last."

  Chapter 51

  The old woman strode forward, covering a surprising amount of ground for one so short. Her presence had taken the edge off the tension in the room completely, and she strode through the midst of the villagers as though they weren't even there – they, along with the guards, parted around her silently like a sea. Julia hid a smile at the amount of respect the little old woman comma
nded. It was good to see her at last – she'd heard so many stories about the old woman and her powers, and she knew that Galen had been very worried about her disappearance over these last few weeks. Maggie's eyes, almost buried in the huge expanse of wrinkles that made up her small face, glinted bright blue as she glanced around the hall… and Julia felt the weight of that gaze rest on her for a lingering moment before she gave a little nod and turned her attention to the hall.

  "Right," she said, her voice creaky with age but somehow managing to effortlessly fill the enormous hall without any of the effort the others had needed to expend to be heard. "You all are being ridiculous. Go home."

  "But Maggie –" The leader of the group's voice faltered at the look that Maggie pinned on her.

  "Witchcraft. Honestly, Lisa, I thought you were brighter than this. How long ago was it that your damn fool daughter was marching a similar mob to my door? Who is it, again, that stopped your flocks from freezing last winter? Get home before I start holding grudges," Maggie snapped. "And you, Caleb…" She clicked her tongue, and Julia almost laughed at the way the priest seemed to shrink about three inches in his boots. "We'll talk about this later. My word, yes."

  And with that, the threat was vanquished. Julia watched as the gaggle of villagers slunk out, giving embarrassed looks to the guards who watched them go, hiding smiles behind their hands. Maggie stood imperiously at the head of the room, well aware that she was the center of attention and clearly enjoying it, waiting for the last of the villagers to leave the hall before she turned to Laird Donal with a shake of her head.

  "You're welcome," she said briskly as the Laird opened his mouth. "I hope they've gotten it out of their system. Now, where's the new witch?" she added brightly.

  Julia moved forward, fighting the urge to laugh as Galen reached out to welcome her to the high table. Maggie surveyed her intently, and she couldn't help but feel like the woman was staring right through her to her very bones.

  "It's good to meet you, Maggie," she said, feeling like she ought to bow or something. "I've heard a lot about you."

  "You're the one who knocked on my door in the wee hours," she said triumphantly, as if finally placing her. "Bold, I'll give you that."

  "I did," Julia admitted, feeling a thrill of regret. "I'm very sorry. I didn't know where I was –"

  "Woke me up," Maggie said, fixing her with a beady eye. "From a very nice dream, I'll add. You ought to know better than to aggravate a Fae creature…"

  Julia's heart sank into her toes… but then suddenly Maggie was cackling laughter, clutching at her belly as she hooted with mirth.

  "Oh, your face, lass! I couldn't resist." She sobered a little, though, peering at her sharply. "You've had encounters with the Unseelie."

  She hesitated – but what was the point of trying to mislead Maggie? "Yes," she admitted.

  "And you're still here, intact. Smart girl. Must be," Maggie said, glancing up at Galen. "You've done well."

  "I had nothing to do with it." Galen shrugged. "Julia's sharp as a blade."

  "She'd have to be, to go toe to toe with – what's he calling himself these days? Never did get his true name," Maggie said, shaking her head.

  "Glimmerbright," Julia provided.

  Maggie snorted. "He always did think rather a lot of himself, didn't he?"

  "You know him?" Laird Donal had been listening in on the introductions quietly, but his eyes widened at this revelation.

  Maggie shrugged her shoulders, and the Laird cleared his throat.

  "Won't you sit down with us, Maggie? There's mead in the kitchens, I'm sure Blair can –"

  "I am rather parched," Maggie said brightly, pulling up a chair at the high table and settling in as though she was born there. "I'll stay a moment. You know how I feel about all the wretched iron around here," she added darkly, and Galen cleared his throat, reaching for his belt and striding a few paces away to leave his iron knife on a distant table. "Much better."

  It was perhaps the strangest luncheon Julia had ever been a part of. She'd never met a woman so cheerfully impolite as Maggie – she helped herself to every item of food offered, leaning her elbows cheerfully on the table as her short legs swung freely back and forth. But every man present – the Laird and his tanist, Captain Brendan and even Galen, gazed at her with trepidation and leapt to fulfill her every request as though the Queen of England herself was sitting amongst them. It was possible, Julia reflected with a grin, that they'd have been less polite to the Queen of England, in fact. They didn't seem especially fond of the English. She had been afraid to ask why in case her poor knowledge of medieval history shamed her.

  Once Maggie had eaten her fill of the variety of foods available, she sat back with a satisfied sigh, nursing a small glass of mead that had been topped up at least a dozen times during the meal, maybe more… it was a miracle, with her short stature, that she wasn't unconscious yet, but her voice didn't even slur with the effects of the alcohol. Julia had been warned that Maggie was a Seelie Fae, but even if she hadn't been told, she'd have certainly figured it out by now.

  "Now then," the little old woman said solemnly, setting her glass down and steepling her fingers. "What are we going to do about this Unseelie Sidhe, hmm?"

  "We've been doing our best," Galen said, shaking his head. "He's hard to track down."

  "Aye, that doesn't surprise me," Maggie said flatly, rolling her eyes. "You're aware of the trouble he's causing, of course?"

  "The crop failures, the sickening animals, half a dozen guards with serious elf shot wounds –"

  "So, you're aware of half of it," the little old woman snorted. "Typical. Call yourselves emissaries between the worlds and you don't even know what he's doing to the Fae on your side of the Burgh."

  Laird Donal sat forward, his eyes widening. "You mean Glimmerbright has been causing trouble for you and yours as well, Maggie?"

  "Oh, aye. Why d'you think I've been so conspicuous by my absence?" Maggie demanded, looking at him crossly. "You think if I'd been dedicating my time to your human problems that you'd still have any? Oh, no. Glimmerbright, if that's what he's calling his damn fool self, nearly turned Darter to stone. That's been my chief concern. As for the other Fae this side… I went visiting once I knew Darter was on the mend. The poor things are all in hiding. It's not good," she said sharply, giving them all a pointed look as she looked around the table. "Which is why I went for a proper visit."

  Julia blinked, not sure what the woman meant… but when the men around her stiffened and uttered little sounds of surprise, she reasoned it was quite a big deal. Maggie nodded, seemingly satisfied by the response.

  "Aye, I know. Quite a trip it was, too. I've information for you," she said smugly. "Most valuable."

  "You're proposing a trade?" the Laird said cautiously, his eyes shadowed.

  Julia remembered what she'd read about Fae, trades and promises, and felt a shiver of uneasiness run down her spine. Were they about to get themselves in even more trouble than they were already in by making a promise they couldn't keep to a Fae creature like Old Maggie?

  Chapter 52

  But Maggie waved her hand dismissively.

  "You know I don't play those games anymore. I'll share what I know if you do your best to use the information to sort it all out. No formal contract needed," she added, giving Julia a wink that made her feel a little uncomfortable. Had Maggie realized she'd reacted so sharply to the suggestion of a contract? "I know the Keep well enough by now to know you'll do all you can."

  "We want this dealt with as much as you do," Galen said, his jaw tight and his eyes shadowed. "We've lost good men, Maggie."

  "Dreadful shame," the woman said briskly, almost dismissively, but Julia could see a glint of real sympathy in her eye. Funny, that, the way she hid her true feelings, the shell of brusqueness she projected… she was quite a character, that was for certain, but Julia could already see why she was so admired and trusted by the people of the castle. "Now let me tell you about so
-called Glimmerbright."

  Julia leaned forward, fascinated despite herself… and caught a sidelong glance from Galen, which amused her. Jealousy, still? She thought she'd made it abundantly clear the choice she'd made between them… if it even had been a choice in the first place. After all, Glimmerbright hadn't exactly given her any real information to go on – nothing but illusion and glamor. She knew Galen much better than she'd ever known the Sidhe.

  "He went Unseelie very recently," Maggie was explaining. "I won't get into the politics of it all because you don't know enough and we'd be here for years if I tried, but it's caused quite a stir over there, that's for certain. Did my best to smooth a few feathers, but you lot aren't exactly popular over there."

  "As in the Keep, the village, or humankind?" Laird Donal wanted to know.

  Maggie sighed. "You know as well as I do that the majority of the Sidhe don't draw a distinction," she said softly, shaking her head. "All the more reason to sort this out."

  "What did we do?" Galen frowned. "It's Glimmerbright causing all the problems. We wouldn't have tried to harm him if he hadn't harmed us first –"

  "That's where you're wrong," Maggie said impatiently. "As usual. Now, will you let me speak?"

  "Sorry, Maggie."

  "Mm. There's a bar in the village, isn't there? An inn of some sort."

  "That's right," Malcolm said with a frown. "What about it?"

  "Turns out there's a handful of Sidhe who like it a great deal," Maggie said, shrugging her shoulders. "They've been patrons for years, wearing different faces every time, of course … but they're probably the owner's most regular customers."

  Julia was fascinated. Otherworldly creatures frequenting a human bar? Was it possible that she'd rubbed shoulders with creatures from the Fae without even knowing it?

  "Well," Maggie continued with a frown, "they were loyal customers, anyway. Until a few months ago. One of them… can't translate his name," she said, frowning to herself. "Something like… oh, blast it, call him Starshine, that'll do. He and Glimmerbright were a right pair. Loved flirting with mortal women. But that night, he tried to catch the heart of the wrong woman and her husband spotted him. One of your guardsmen. No idea which one," she added, rolling her eyes. "They all wear so much iron it deadens their true names to me. He picked a fight. Never let it be said a Sidhe would back down from a fight. But he didn't realize the guard was armed with iron."