Swept By The Highlander: A Scottish Time Travel Romance-Highlander Forever Book 3

by Preston, Rebecca

  “And,” Maeve said, her voice suddenly businesslike, “you have to trust me. I think it’s time we tried you on solid food again.”

  “No,” Elena groaned, recoiling at the sight of the plate of bread that Maeve was lifting toward her. “You know what happened last time.” Maeve had brought her a bowl of soup earlier in the week — she’d barely managed two spoonfuls before she was retching. But Maeve was not to be dissuaded.

  “That was then,” she said simply. “This is now. Come on. A little bite.”

  Groaning, she lifted one of the pieces of bread. Maeve had told her a wonderful story and made her forget how sick she was for a few minutes at least. The least she could do was try to eat some bread. It felt strange, crunching into the dry toast… but it reminded her a little of home, of how her father would bring hot buttered toast to her and her brothers whenever they got stomach bugs or flu. He wasn’t much of a cook, but his hot buttered toast was the stuff of legends… just the right quantity of butter, spread at just the right time so it melted into the bread… and the secret extra ingredient, of course, was love.

  Elena felt tears prickling at her eyes again as she nibbled at this toast. It wasn’t as good as her father’s. God, was she ever going to see him again? But at least her stomach didn’t seem to be quite as furious at the prospect of this bread as it had been at the soup. She managed a few bites of the toast, and Maeve beamed her approval.

  “That’s a good sign, my dear. You may be on the mend. Go slow, though,” she added as Elena, emboldened by the idea that she might be getting better, took a bigger bite of the toast. “You don’t want to overwhelm your stomach after a week of nothing.”

  “I want to be better already,” Elena groaned, relinquishing the toast.

  “Patience is a virtue, my dear. I’ll leave you to your reading,” she added with a silvery little laugh. “And I’ll bring you some breakfast tomorrow morning, provided that toast settles alright.”

  And settle it did — though Elena was worried she’d wake up in the night with an upset stomach, the bread seemed to sit fine in her belly. And when she woke in the morning, it was to another pleasant surprise — it was Brendan at her door with another plate of toast, not Maeve. He had his riding cloak around his shoulders and a worried look on his face, though, which dampened a little of her enthusiasm about seeing him.

  “You’ve been down to the village again?”

  “Aye, all night,” he said distractedly, moving into the room and taking a seat on her visitor’s chair. “I hear you’re stomaching solid foods?”

  “Barely,” she grumbled, taking the toast he’d brought her with a nod of gratitude and commencing the task of nibbling at it carefully. “If I’d known I was going to get this sick I wouldn’t have bothered coming at all. Oh, wait, I had no choice.”

  Brendan laughed, but he seemed distracted.

  She tilted her head as she nibbled the toast, intrigued by his unusual quiet. “Everything okay? You seem worried.”

  “I am, a little,” he admitted with a frown. “It’s good that you’re on the mend, though.”

  “The very slow mend,” she corrected. “How are the other patients? The men in the village?”

  “That’s why I’ve been down there. One of them… he’s gone.”

  An icy hand clutched at her heart and she stared at him, shocked. “Seriously? The disease got bad enough to… kill someone?”

  “No. Stranger than that.” Brendan ran a hand through his hair, frowning. “Overnight, he just disappeared from his bed. He’d been so weak — nobody had any idea how he could have gotten across the room, let alone out of the house and away. We’ve had patrols searching for him with no luck. And I posted a few of my men to guard the houses of the other sick men, just in case.”

  “That’s so strange.” She frowned, trying to think through her own knowledge of twenty-first century medicine to see if there was anything that might help. As piecemeal as her knowledge unfortunately was, she still probably knew a hell of a lot more than the average citizen of medieval Scotland about what caused diseases. “Is it possible he was delirious or feverish and just… wandered off?”

  “That’s what we think might have happened.” Brendan frowned. “That’s what the villagers seem to think, anyway. None of them are interested in entertaining the possibility that this might just be an enchantment.”

  A shiver ran down Elena’s spine as she thought about what Maeve had said about the Unseelie Fae, the chaos they could bring to the world. “An enchantment? Like — something from the Unseelie?”

  “It’s possible,” Brendan said, his face darker than Elena had ever seen it. “We’ve had run-ins with them before — more and more frequently, in fact, over the last few years. But nothing’s come through the Burgh lately that we know about — except for you, of course,” he added, smiling at her.

  “Must be me, then,” she said archly. “I mean, I am rather an enchanting creature, aren’t I?” She stretched languorously, trying to strike a sexy pose — but Brendan’s face was wooden. “I’m joking.”

  “Aye. It’s no joking matter, I’m afraid, Elena.” He sighed, rubbing his face as she pulled the covers back over herself, feeling a little embarrassed at her completely failed attempt at humor. “Sorry. I’m not good company at the moment.”

  “It’s fine,” she said, shrugging. “You’re right. It was a stupid joke. People are sick, I shouldn’t be making fun until they’re well.”

  “The odd thing is, since I posted my men to guard the remaining patients, they’ve been improving a little. Not a lot, but a little.”

  “Like me and my heroic toast efforts?” She lifted her half-finished piece of bread in triumph.

  “Aye, a little.” He smiled. “I’m glad you’re on the mend, Elena.”

  She caught him stifling a yawn, and frowned — but before she could speak, he raised his hands.

  “I know, I know, I should get some sleep.”

  “Am I so predictable?”

  “No, but I am.” He grinned.

  “Come back and see me later?” she said, emboldened by the smile on his face and the way she could already feel herself getting stronger with food in her belly.

  “If you’re good,” he said, eyes twinkling — and then he was gone, leaving her grinning to herself in the empty room. She was finally starting to feel better. It was the solid food that was doing it, of course. Not the company. No way. It was just a little infatuation.

  Right?

  Chapter 21

  She felt emboldened by her successful breakfast, and though she knew she might be pushing it a little, she couldn’t help but slide her feet out of bed and down toward the floor for the first time in a week. Biting her lip, ready to fall back to the bed if she needed to, she braced herself against the bed and let her weight shift forwards, onto her feet. Carefully, waiting for a wave of dizziness to thwart her ambitions, she rose to her feet. It felt strange, to be standing upright after a full week of not being able to do much but lie helplessly in bed… she took a few steps, ready for the rush of nausea that had knocked her over in the dining hall a week ago.

  But to her delight, she found herself able to take a slow lap of the room. She felt weak and shaky, of course — it had been almost a week since she’d eaten a solid meal, of course she wouldn’t be feeling in fighting shape. But it felt unbelievably good to feel a little bit of strength returning to her body. She could hear Maeve’s voice in the back of her head, warning her not to push herself too much… so she returned herself to bed, pulling the blankets over her body and grinning to herself.

  Of course, now that she knew she was on the mend, she felt all the more impatient to get moving. The morning dragged by much more slowly than any of the other mornings… she felt restless, energized, ready to get out and face the world (even though she could feel a certain weakness in her limbs as a result of even her short walk around the room.) She tried to distract herself by reading the book Brendan had left for her, but after
her conversation with Maeve, she couldn’t help but feel like the book was just a lot of smoke-screening what was actually going on. There could have been all kinds of exciting encounters with supernatural creatures, but this writer wasn’t going to tell her anything about them, was he? Better to get out there to experience the Fae for herself.

  She frowned a little, thinking back to what Brendan had told her about what was going on in the village. She hadn’t even been there yet… it was strange to think that so much was going on down there, so many people sick, so much worry about what was causing it. Could it be supernatural, the disease? She knew that was Brendan’s theory. Maybe it was her contemporary mind still trying to cling onto the empirical approach, but she felt like it could easily be something mundane. A stomach bug like the one she had, maybe. Or something worse… she’d read an article about prion diseases late at night once when she couldn’t sleep, and it had filled her with a hypochondriac sense of dread for weeks. Prion diseases ate away at the brain, or at least the ones she’d read about did… they were very difficult to diagnose and even harder to treat. What if this illness was a disease like that? Something that would be difficult to treat even in the twenty-first century, let alone in the medieval era she’d found herself in…

  Maybe this whole trip is a disease-induced hallucination, she thought to herself with a bitter little laugh. As much as she was doing her best to embrace her deeply bizarre situation, there was a solid part of her mind that was still almost desperately clinging to the belief that she’d wake up from all of this madness sooner or later.

  It was a tedious morning. But Anna came to visit her around lunch time, bringing with her a bowl of very plain vegetable soup — it barely tasted of anything when Elena sampled it cautiously. No spices, no salt… just the mild, if nutritious, taste of vegetables.

  “Not the most exciting soup I’ve ever tried,” she said.

  Anna grinned. “Blair must like you. She made a pot especially for you, bland as possible, no extra flavoring.”

  Elena’s eyes widened, thinking back to the gimlet-eyed woman who’d stared right through her in the kitchen. “Seriously?”

  Anna laughed. “Everyone thinks Blair’s so scary. She’s easy to get on side, really. You just have to be honest with her.”

  “Well, tell her thanks for the soup,” Elena said, taking another careful sip of it. Bland as it was, it was just what she needed for her still rebellious stomach… but she could feel her appetite beginning to wake up a little, like a sleeping bear, curiously sniffing at the air. “Or maybe I’ll tell her myself, if I’m back on my feet today.”

  “Don’t rush yourself,” Anna said. “You don’t want to get stuck in bed for another few days by overdoing it.”

  “I also don’t want to die of boredom,” she complained. “It can’t be much fun, coming to visit me when I’m all grumpy like this.”

  “Well, Brendan doesn’t seem to mind,” Anna said, a deliberately innocent look on her face. “He seems keen as mustard to come visit you, in fact.”

  Elena didn’t even bother trying to fight the blush that rose to her cheeks. Why bother trying to hide the blossoming friendship between her and Brendan? “Well, he’s got good taste in friends, what can I say?”

  Anna was grinning — but her face shifted. “Oh, that reminds me. You might not have any visits from him for a little while. Donal’s sending him down to the village for a few days to handle some problem they’re having down there.”

  “The disease? Have people gotten worse?”

  Anna looked at her blankly. “How do you know about that?”

  “Do you — not know?” She fidgeted with the blankets, suddenly worried she was about to get Brendan into trouble. “Brendan mentioned something —” She gave up. “He told me all about it.”

  “He must really like you,” Anna said, her eyebrows raised. “Yes, I know about it, and so does Donal, but the rest of the castle is supposed to be none the wiser. But I’m glad you know. Maybe you’ll have some insight into what’s going on. A few of the guards that were posted to guard the sick people have started falling sick themselves with the same symptoms, that’s the latest.”

  Elena’s eyes widened. “That’s not good.”

  “It’s not,” Anna agreed, frowning. “From what Donal and Brendan were talking about at lunch, the guards had no contact at all with the sick people. They’re all men, and most of them are between the ages that get affected by whatever this is. I personally made sure that Donal and Brendan kept the healthy people away from the sick ones. I’ll teach them about disease transmission if it’s the last thing I do,” she added, rolling her eyes. “But now I feel stupid, because it doesn’t seem to have helped at all. They’re falling sick just the same.”

  “Brendan was saying some of the villagers got better when they were isolated and put under guard?”

  “Yeah. They’ve done the same with the guards who’ve gotten sick — brought them back here, sequestered them away to get well. Poor Maeve’s doing so much running up and down with meals that they’re hardly touching. A couple of them got better overnight, though. They’re staying locked away just in case, but I went and had a talk to one of them.”

  “Really?” Elena frowned, her protective instincts flaring. “Isn’t that dangerous? What if the disease —”

  “It doesn’t affect women, remember?”

  “True,” she acknowledged. “Maybe if Brendan had any female guards at all on his staff this wouldn’t be such a problem.”

  Anna grinned. “Well, that’s something you and I might treat as a little project. Once you’re mended,” she added, giving her a warning look. “No rushing the recovery process, okay?”

  “Fine, fine, I’ll lie in bed until all my muscles waste away from not being used,” Elena grumbled. “Tell me about the men who got better. Did they have any insight into the disease? How it came on, what the early symptoms were…”

  “That’s just the thing. They didn’t remember anything at all.”

  That sent a chill down Elena’s spine, and she frowned. Even in the depths of her worst fevers, she always remembered something of what was happening.

  “They said it was like they just woke up in their rooms once they were mended. Couldn’t remember even falling asleep… though they were awake for a lot of their illness.”

  “That’s … I have no idea what would cause that,” Elena said blankly. “I’m not a doctor, but that’s… that’s downright weird.”

  “Yeah,” Anna said, frowning. “It is. We’re just hoping the rest of the guards make a full recovery, too, now that they’re isolated in the castle and being cared for. Only by women, just in case it’s contagious,” she added. “We’re trying to keep it on the low-down, too. Donal’s told everyone that it’s the same disease you have — just a stomach bug, nothing too serious.”

  “Tell that to the week I’ve had to spend in bed,” Elena grumbled.

  Anna smiled, patting her arm consolingly. “I know it sucks. At least you’re on the mend now. I’ll leave you to get some rest — I’ve got to go check on Gwyneth.”

  At the doorway, Anna turned around, a thoughtful look on her face. “Hey — you didn’t go down to the village or anything before you got sick, did you?”

  Elena blinked. “No. I wanted to, but I got sick before I could. Why?”

  “Oh, no reason. Some of the men…” Anna shrugged, clearly troubled. “The sick ones. I heard them talking in their sleep, groaning. They mentioned a woman with long red hair. A woman in green, they said. Thought maybe you’d borrowed one of Nancy’s dresses and gone for a ride, or something…”

  Elena frowned. She hadn’t left the castle grounds… unless you counted that one day she’d gone down to the docks….

  “Ah, well. Probably just a local girl or something. You know how men get.” Anna shrugged. “Feel better soon, babe. See you soon.”

  Elena frowned to herself at this fresh piece of information. A woman in green… her mind on the e
vening she’d spent at the docks, she realized with a shock that Una — her new friend — had been wearing a dark green dress, a long, flowing thing that covered her feet. And she had long red hair, too — a little darker than Elena’s, but similar. Was it possible that her new friend from the docks had been in the village, talking to the sick men? Maybe — but Una was afraid of men, she’d made that very clear in their conversation. What interest would she have in talking to them?

  Maybe she’d ask her, once she was well. It would be good to see Una again, anyway. It was nice spending time with the dark-eyed woman — peaceful, somehow. She was good company. And if she lived around the area, maybe she’d have some insight into this wasting disease that was doing so much damage to the men of the area.

  Chapter 22

  By dinner, Elena was feeling better. It had helped to see Brendan that afternoon, if briefly — she’d been worried she simply wouldn’t see him for a few days, but he stopped by on his way down to the village to make his apologies and say goodbye.

  “We’ll celebrate your return to full health when I get back,” he promised, smiling at her. “Maybe we could even steal another bottle of cooking wine from Blair’s supply.”

  She giggled. “I’d like that. But maybe, given the circumstances, it might be better to avoid alcohol. At least until I’m totally better.”

  “Oh, aye? I think you’re just worried about losing a drinking contest,” Brendan said innocently, though there was a wicked sparkle in his eyes that made her giggle.

  Once he’d left, she flopped back against the pillows, her mind straying to the rather saucy dreams she’d had about him a few nights ago. She’d been worried they were a symptom — an indication that she had what the sick men down in the village had — but they hadn’t come back, to her chagrin. Besides, from what Anna had said, it seemed that the men were dreaming of a woman in green — that was hardly the kind of dream she’d been having. Or maybe that was unrelated — maybe the woman in green was just a fever dream. She’d find out, she decided. Once she was well, she was going to help Brendan figure all this out once and for all.