Katie's Highlander

by Maeve Greyson

  “I’m the one who’s grateful, Agnes. Grateful to have met you and everyone else here.” Spurred on by her churning emotions, Katie gave Agnes a hard hug, biting her lip to keep from sobbing aloud. She’d miss this cantankerous old woman so much. She’d miss everyone.

  Agnes’s cheeks pinked an even rosier shade and her eyes sparkled with unshed tears. Confusion pulled her sparse gray brows together as she patted Katie’s arms. “Why ye sound as though yer a leavin’ us, Mistress? Surely, tha’s no’ the truth?”

  What could she say? She wanted to leave…well, she wanted to return to the ease and conveniences of the future, but she didn’t want to lose the rich friendships she’d forged here in the past. She didn’t necessarily want to leave here, per se. She wanted…what the hell did she want? I want it all. Friends from the past and the future and indoor plumbing all around. Damn, what a mess.

  She gave Agnes another quick hug. “I guess Flora’s sister made me realize that we never know when we might leave this world.”

  With a thoughtful nod, Agnes gave a quick shrug. “Aye, mistress. ’Tis sadly true.” Shuffling over to the worktable, she drew the attention of one the maids already working the dough for the day’s meal. “Run and fetch some herbs from Old Creada for the mistress. Tell her ’tis both the lady’s head and heart in need of ease then I’ll brew up a fine tonic t’bring our lady her rest.”

  “Aye, mistress.” The young girl bobbed a curtsy then took off at a run, her long amber braids bouncing out from under the edges of her white maid’s cap and streaming out behind her.

  Agnes glanced back at Katie. “I ken the death of Flora’s sister and her babe has yer heart a hurtin’. Hie up to yer bed, mistress. Lay ye down. I’ll bring the tonic up as soon as the wee gal returns, and I get the herbs steeped good and proper.”

  Katie swiped the back of her hand across her brow then shoved her wayward curls away from her face. A nap sounded awesome but there was no time. Flora needed her. “I’ll lay down after I get back from visiting Flora. I want to make sure they’re getting settled okay.”

  “As ye wish, m’lady.” Agnes looked toward the kitchen’s rear door that led to the massive smoky pits used for roasting large animals. “If ye cut through the smoke lot, ‘twill shorten yer journey by a good bit and get ye to yer bed all the sooner.” Lifting her chin, Agnes fixed her with a superior look that made her want to squirm. “I ken ye wish t’visit with the lass but ye look a bit peaked, m’lady. Makin’ yerself ill willna help wee Flora. In fact, ‘twould vex the wee gal sorely if she believed she caused such a thing t’come upon ye.”

  Katie waved the words away and headed out the rear door. She’d be fine. She’d catch a nap when she got back from visiting Flora. Picking her way around the massive pits and the iron spits mounted over them, Katie sent up a prayer of thanks that no carcasses were in the process of being roasted. She couldn’t stomach that sight today. She slipped through the back gate, crossed the kitchen gardens, then exited through another gate.

  The heart-lifting sound of children laughing guided her to Flora’s beleaguered family’s quarters. There was a sturdy stone croft just inside the skirting wall and that’s where Ramsay had placed them. In fact, there Ramsay was, balancing a heavy wooden table across his back as he threaded it through the narrow door of the croft and two men followed behind him with the benches.

  Her knight in shining armor. Working alongside his people instead of just sitting on high and giving orders. Katie’s heart swelled. How could she possibly love him any more than she did right now? Her inner philosopher had been mulling that question over a lot lately. Maybe it wasn’t that she loved him more. Maybe her love for him was just changing. Maturing. Metamorphosing from body-tingling lust to he’s a part of me and I care about him love. Katie pulled in a deep breath and embraced the feeling.

  Papa had been right when he’d described it. This was one of those loves that everyone wants but few are ever blessed enough to find or smart enough to realize when they have it. Well, she realized it and claimed it for her own. All the weirdness that happened to come as part of the package could just be damned. She loved Ramsay. Plain and simple.

  Ramsay emerged from the croft with a happily squealing child tucked under each arm, jiggling them and spinning in a slow circle to make them squeal louder. Katie hugged herself. Of course he’s great with kids. And that’s a good thing. She had very little faith in the sponge-and-vinegar contraceptive method of the tenth century. If they stayed here much longer, she felt sure that Ramsay would have the opportunity to be great with his own children.

  If I survive bringing them into the world. The ominous thought came unbidden as Flora stepped into view, standing in the open doorway of the croft to shake out a cleaning rag. Katie’s heart hurt for her friend. Flora looked as limp and ragged as the worn cloth she snapped between her hands.

  “Flora!” Katie refused to be dark and dreary today. That wouldn’t help Flora. She hurried forward, sidestepping a spinning Ramsay and the cackling toddlers. “Are you getting settled? Do you think this will be okay?”

  Even worn with weariness, Flora looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. “ ’Tis a fine place indeed, m’lady. M’brothers and I are more than grateful for the generosity. ‘Twill be remembered all the rest of our days and passed along to our children to remember as well, I grant ye that.”

  “Good.” Katie stepped inside the croft, giving the inside of the small snug building a sweeping glance. Table and benches. Beds with fresh straw-filled ticking. Blankets stacked beside them. Even though the floor was dirt, the place had a welcoming coziness about it and Katie felt better with that discovery. Love lived here. The tiny tots were well fed and happy. Flora’s brothers had regular work with the smithy and one of the older ladies from the nearby village had agreed to help watch the little ones so Flora could keep her position as Katie’s handmaiden. That in itself lent greatly to the frail glimmer of hope returning to Flora’s eyes.

  When faced with the possibility of losing her place as handmaid to the chieftain’s wife, Flora had sobbed nearly as uncontrollably as she had at her sister’s grave. Flora identified herself by her position at the keep. For Flora’s sake, they needed to keep her in it.

  A gentle scratching at the door pulled Katie from her thoughts and made her turn. She nearly did a double take at the sight of the ancient woman standing in the open doorway.

  Hair white as snow and cascading down her humped and twisted back, the old woman hitched her steps with two canes, one knobby stick clutched in each hand as she shuffled forward with what looked like one painful step at a time. Her face was weathered and lined like a crumpled bit of old linen. Her eyes were nothing more than dark glittering slits in her wrinkled face.

  “Creada!” Flora rushed to the old woman and helped steady her as she crept her way deeper into the room. “Ye honor me greatly with this visit, Creada. I ken how hard it is for ye t’journey out of yer home.”

  With a hand twisted and knotted with advanced arthritis, Creada stood still and slowly waved away Flora’s words as though their meaning had taken a bit longer to sink in. “Yer m’blood, child. Ye ken that or ye should? Think ye I’d no’ care how the clan was tendin’ to the needs of my great-great-granddaughter?”

  Flora gave the old woman a shy smile and bowed her head. “I’m truly blessed, grandmother. We all are blessed t’have such a grand chieftain and fine lady t’watch over us.”

  With labored moves, Creada thumped her canes with every slow step as she made her way across the room to Katie.

  Katie had the wild irrational feeling that she should run like hell.

  “I bring ye no harm, m’lady,” Creada said, as if reading Katie’s thoughts. She glanced back at Flora then slowly turned her attention to Katie. “M’great-great-granddaughter is no’ the only reason I’ve come away from m’croft.”

  The tiny hairs on t
he back of Katie’s neck prickled and burned as though someone had zapped her with electricity. Relief washed across her as Ramsay entered, deposited the toddlers on one of the beds, and gave them a look to sit quietly and mind their manners.

  “Ramsay,” Katie said, silently calling him to her side. “Look. Creada’s here.” Stupid thing to say? Yes. But he’s got to stay here. I’m out of my element.

  As Ramsay reached Katie’s side, Creada slowly bowed her snow-white head, gently weaving from side to side as she struggled to remain standing between her canes. “Great Protector. ’Tis m’honor t’serve ye.”

  “I beg ye sit and rest, wise Creada. Ye’ve journeyed far on foot.” Ramsay helped her to one of the benches beside the table.

  Creada gave Ramsay a sweet toothless smile. “I had t’see ye for m’self, ye ken? ’Tis no’ every day that one chances a meeting with a blessed protector.”

  Ramsay waved Katie forward and they both sat on the bench opposite Creada. The old woman fairly oozed wisdom. Katie could feel it swirling in the air around her. “Thank you for all the tonics you’ve sent.” This woman was the druidic version of the Physicians’ Desk Reference used by twenty-first-century doctors.

  Creada turned her smile on Katie and accepted the thanks with a regal nod. “I’ve sent more to the keep with a slip of girl who came a callin’ this mornin’. When she said yer heart hurt as well as yer head, that too was another reason for me to come.” Creada stretched her twisted hand across the table and held it there. “Give me yer hand, child. Let me help ye.”

  Um…help me how? Katie glanced at Ramsay who nodded at Creada’s outstretched hand as though he couldn’t believe that Katie hadn’t already taken it.

  Pulling in a slow deep breath, Katie held it as she slid her right hand into Creada’s callused grasp.

  With a strong hold that belied her years, Creada lowered her chin, bowing her head as though she’d nodded off for a long nap. Seconds ticked off into minutes. Katie did her best not to squirm in her seat, trying to think of a diplomatic way to escape this situation. Nothing came to mind.

  Finally, Creada raised her head, her slanted eyes grew even narrower as she peered at Katie. “Ye will have the opportunity to return. Take heart, lass, but know this…the only trap ye face is the one ye set for yerself.”

  The only trap I face is the one I set for myself? What the hell does that mean? Gently, Katie pulled her hand back, curling it into a fist at her chest. “What trap?”

  Creada acted as though Katie hadn’t said a word. Instead, she turned to Ramsay. “There is one who can help ye with what ye seek, Protector. ’Tis a druid older than time itself. The man was fair ancient when I was but a child.”

  “Ye ken what I seek, then? Truly?” Ramsay asked, staring at Creada as though sending his thoughts into her mind.

  “Aye, Mighty One.” Creada folded her knobby hands atop the table and slowly nodded. “Ye seek to return to a time where ye can keep yer lady happy…and safe.” Her head barely tilted to one side as she pursed her lips and idly tapped a bent finger to the tip of her bony chin. “But like yer lady, ye’ve much t’learn.” Creada smiled and softly chuckled. “Hie yerself to Skara Brae afore the weather forbids such travel. Ye’ve a narrow window of time before the winter winds rise. Yer answers lie there. Among the stones of Skara Brae.”

  Chapter 23

  Katie gripped the airisaidh tighter under her chin, squinting against the cold briny bite of the wind chopping at the waves of the North Sea. She alternately huddled and bounced against the massive wood ribbing of the boat as the temperamental waters tossed the craft about like a child’s toy. She’d crossed this stretch of water before, but it had been a hell of a lot easier ride on a twenty-first-century ferry.

  Grappling on to the side of the boat, Katie managed to stand and peer over the bow, mildly surprised to see that they were already more than three quarters of the way to Mainland, the largest island in the Orkney archipelago—the isle that was home to the village of Skara Brae. So, the researchers got it right. Scientists had theorized for years that the lands were once all connected before the sea had gradually separated the isles, then widened and claimed its own path through them. The path of the sea wasn’t nearly as wide now as it was in the twenty-first century.

  “Are ye all right, lass?”

  Strong hands squeezed her shoulders and Katie welcomed the shielding warmth of Ramsay’s body against her. It wasn’t winter yet but from the icy cut of the wind—winter wasn’t far away. She snuggled closer and patted Ramsay’s chest. “I’m fine—never been too crazy about boats, that’s all.”

  “Ye said ye’d traveled here before, aye?” Ramsay lowered them both to the bench then curled Katie tighter against his side, wrapping them both in the generous folds of his kilt. “Did ye no’ travel by boat when last ye visited this place?”

  “An enclosed ferry.” Katie squinted against the wind. “And they had coffee.” Coffee. What I wouldn’t give for a cup of honest-to-goodness coffee right now.

  Ramsay gave her a sad smile as he scanned the horizon. “Aye, well…mayhap, we’ll find the answer soon t’gettin’ ye back to yer precious coffee, dear one.”

  Ramsay’s tone made her heart hurt. He didn’t want to go back to the future. Every gesture, every nuance of what he said, screamed out loud and clear that he didn’t wish to go. Katie swallowed hard. He was doing this for her. If not for her, he’d be more than content to live out the rest of his days in tenth-century Scotland. But he’d promised to get her back and a MacDara never went back on a promise—especially not a promise he’d made to someone he loved.

  Katie touched his face, rubbing her fingers against the springy stubble of his neatly trimmed beard. The stubble that had tickled in oh-so-many delicious ways as they’d made love last night—out under the open stars on a blanket next to the fire. An overwhelming sense of guilt assuaged her. How could she be so selfish?

  “We don’t have to go back.” The words burst free of their own volition—exploding from her lips as though they’d been fighting for quite some time to be said. “We can just stay here…at MacTavish Keep.” She’d make do and after a while, more than likely wouldn’t even think twice about all the twenty-first century goodies she’d given up. As long as she had Ramsay—that’s all that mattered.

  Ramsay pulled his gaze from the horizon and stared down at her long and hard. Unblinking. Unsmiling. It was almost as though he were in a trance, drilling his way to the bottom of her soul.

  “I mean it, Ramsay. Tell them to turn the boat around.”

  Finally, still studying her, eyes narrowed and brow puckered with the slightest scowl, Ramsay slowly shook his head. “Nay, woman. I’ll no’ risk losin’ ye to the dangers of this time.”

  “Cut a deal with the goddesses. Tell them we want to stay here unless one of us needs twenty-first-century medical attention or something.” That made sense. Why hadn’t she thought of that before? It would be like being on a lifetime dig and if anything happened, the goddesses could evac them out to the twenty-first century.

  Ramsay snorted out a sad laugh. “It doesna quite work that way. If ye’ve no’ noticed, the goddesses plan what they plan and do what they will and neither mine nor any other protector’s druthers are taken into consideration. If their wishes happen to align with ours, we consider it a rare gift that’s as dangerous as a double-edged sword. A gift from the goddesses begets a debt that could come due at any time.”

  Katie cupped his face between her hands. “I want you happy.” His sadness made her ache, knotted inside her like a tightening fist trying to strangle her soul.

  Ramsay slid his hand to the back of her neck and pulled her hard into a kiss. His lips were cold, but his mouth was hot and tasted of the briny air. She knotted her fingers in his damp kilt and pulled him closer. She needed to feel. Indelibly imprint this moment on all her senses. The scent of the m
an she’d come to love more than life mixed with the primordial fragrance of the sea. The scratch of his beard, his hungering tongue, the strength of his grip as he held her tight.

  Mind spinning, Katie wished Ramsay could take her right here in the boat, their bodies crashing together like the waves against the hull. The only thing that held her back was the owner of the boat and his son. She wasn’t interested in putting on a show for the locals.

  Ramsay lifted his head and stared into her eyes for a long heart-pounding moment. “You are my happiness,” he said in low rasping whisper. “You alone. D’ye ken what I’m sayin’? Nothing else matters but you.”

  Words escaping her, Katie nodded. She’d figure this out. Make it up to him. I swear I’ll make it right.

  “Steady yerselves!”

  No sooner had the boatman’s call sounded than the hull gracefully ground into the muddy embankment with a crunching thud. Ramsay slowly rose, scanning their surroundings as he held out a hand.

  “M’lady?”

  Navigating the frustrating yardage of her skirts, Katie finally managed to disembark without showing her ass—literally. She adjusted the airisaidh about her shoulders as she moved away from the boat and looked at the land around her.

  “Amazing,” she said under her breath. “What Papa wouldn’t have given to see this.”

  The village of Skara Brae was deserted but hadn’t been that way long. The eight houses were intact and still in quite habitable shape considering that the last time Katie had been here, the shelters had been little more than excavated ruins—roped off squares of stone blocks piled together and holding tight to their secrets. But this place—this place was still alive and sharing all the wonders it had recently known as a lively fishing village.

  “It’s deserted. Do you think Creada’s druid finally died?” she asked Ramsay as he walked beside her. “She said he was older than dirt when she was a child. We may be too late.”