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

by Preston, Rebecca

  “I thought…”

  “I know, Elena. I know what you thought about them. You trusted them. Because you are kind, and sweet, and so vulnerable. And that’s why I’m here. To protect you.” Una’s dark eyes were full of feeling — and before Elena could react, she felt the woman pull her into an embrace. Her body was as cold as her hands, and her face pressing against Elena’s felt as cool as marble… but Elena hugged her back regardless. She needed the comfort — and it seemed Una did too.

  They parted after a long moment, a little breathless, holding each other’s eyes — before Una looked sharply over her shoulder, where the faintest tinge of light had crept into the sky. “Dawn is close,” she murmured. “I must go. Find me whenever you need me, Elena. I promise I’ll always be here for you.”

  Elena watched her stride away up the jetty, full of a whirlwind of feelings — gratitude for Una’s strange but clearly sincere care and support, worry for what the Sidhe had truly intended with her, and overall — overwhelmingly — confusion for what on earth she was supposed to believe now.

  This was a much more complicated case than some murder.

  Chapter 27

  Elena walked slowly back up to the castle, her mind on the troubling things she’d just learned. This was all already complicated enough — now she was worried that she couldn’t trust Anna and Nancy, that they only had some of the information about the Sidhe. What if they were less benevolent than everyone seemed to think? Sure, the people of the castle seemed to have full faith in the Seelie Fae to be good to their human friends… but from what Una had said, things might be a lot more complicated than that.

  What if Anna and Nancy were wrong about their own so-called ‘rescues’ at the hands of the Sidhe? What if the Sidhe had used their powers to interfere in the mortal world, bringing about whatever accident it was that they had then ‘saved’ Nancy and Anna from? That had been what Una had implied was the case… but then again, it wasn’t as though Elena knew if she could trust Una, either. But there was something about her… something about those dark eyes of hers, about the wistful way she spoke, the way she clasped her hands in her icy cold ones … she just wanted to trust Una. That was it — she wanted to believe her. It was troubling. She tried not to operate on gut instinct when she could avoid it, preferring to have facts and data to back up her hunches, but when she had to go on instinct, her instinct was usually right.

  But was it instinct that was guiding this feeling, that Una was telling the truth, that it was the Sidhe who were her enemy and not just the Unseelie Fae that Brendan and the others had spoken so darkly about? Because if the Sidhe were the enemy — if they truly weren’t to be trusted — then that meant that anyone who spoke positively of them were also not to be trusted. And that knocked out just about everyone that Elena had met here in Scotland. It was an isolating prospect — she felt a little overwhelmed by it all. She sat down on the steps of the castle as the sky lightened, knowing breakfast wouldn’t be served until after dawn — maybe a little time outside in the peaceful morning would help clear her head? But she was feeling frazzled, still worn down from the after-effects of the horrible sickness she’d endured, and a bad night of sleep plagued by bad dreams hadn’t helped, either. She made very little progress on the dilemmas raging through her mind as the time wore on, and by the time she could hear people coming down for breakfast, she was in a foul mood.

  Nancy and Anna found her sitting alone at a table, moodily spooning porridge into her mouth. She’d also helped herself to a plateful of eggs, figuring her body could probably use the protein, but even Blair’s delicious cooking wasn’t improving her mood. She could see Anna and Nancy exchanging worried glances over her head, which only served to irritate her more — her mood was none of their concern. She wasn’t some child who needed to be cared for.

  “How are you feeling, Elena?” Anna asked gently.

  “Not great,” she said shortly. “Didn’t sleep very well. Bad dreams.”

  “Well, I’ve got a piece of news that might cheer you up,” Nancy said brightly — and Elena glanced up with interest as she heard Anna kick Nancy under the table.

  “What’s that?”

  “Brendan’s coming back to the castle today,” Nancy said smugly, her eyes twinkling.

  And maybe it was Elena’s foul mood — or maybe it was what she’d been talking to Una about — but a flare of irritation rose in her chest.

  “Why would that cheer me up?”

  Nancy looked nonplussed. “I thought you two were …”

  “Friends,” Anna cut across sharply.

  Elena felt grateful for that, at least. She didn’t want to address the romantic tension between her and Brendan, not now… not when she was wondering whether she could even trust him in the first place. Not when she had so much on her mind.

  “Yeah, we’re friends. I don’t know.” She took another mouthful of porridge. “Medieval men, you know?”

  Anna narrowed her eyes. “Has he done something pig-headed? I’ll go after him myself if I have to. Did he say something about women on the Guard, or something?”

  “He hasn’t said anything in particular,” Elena had to admit, grimacing. The problem was that she had no evidence that Brendan was anything other than a perfectly reasonable man. “I mean, he doesn’t seem to understand my job very well, seems to think detectives are like… servants who help beat cops, which is completely backwards, but whatever. I don’t know. I’m just in a bad mood.”

  “Fair enough.” Anna shrugged, but there was a worried look in her eyes. “But… Brendan’s a good man. I’d vouch for him. I’ve spent a lot of time grappling with male chauvinists, and I promise you, there are worse out there than Brendan…”

  “Does that matter?” Elena snapped, stung. “Is ‘could be worse’ really the best character reference he’s got?”

  “It’s the sixteenth century, Elena,” Nancy put in, frowning. “You can’t expect everyone to be as advanced when it comes to feminist thought as the three of us, it’s just not realistic. The men here — most of them, anyway — they do their best. They might have backwards ideas — Malcolm sure did when I met him — but the mark of the good ones is that they’re willing to learn and change. We just have to be willing to teach them.”

  “I don’t want to be anyone’s nursemaid,” Elena snapped. “If I have to teach someone that I’m not worth less just because I’m female, then that’s not a person I want in my life, you know? Why should I have to do all that work just to be considered human?”

  “I know,” Anna said simply, patting her on the arm. Her hand was a lot warmer than Una’s. “I know how you feel, Elena, truly. If you don’t want to see Brendan, I can tell him —”

  “I don’t care,” Elena said, suddenly embarrassed at the force of her feelings. This was what happened when you tried to talk about complicated ideas before you’d had a chance to work through them yourself — you made a fool of yourself. “No, I’ll see him, it’s fine, I’m not…” She took a deep breath. “He hasn’t done anything wrong.” Yet, she added, thinking of Una. “I’m just in a crappy mood. Still recovering, I think.”

  “That makes sense,” Nancy said, stroking her arm soothingly. “Take it easy on yourself, yeah?”

  She traipsed back up the stairs after breakfast, feeling thoroughly miserable. The only thing she could imagine helping was a nap — so she climbed back into bed and let sleep claim her. This time, mercifully, there were no more horrible dreams, and when she woke around midday, she felt a lot calmer than she had. The food had probably helped too, she thought with amusement.

  She’d just gotten her boots on when there was a gentle knock at her door — and when it opened, she tensed a little. There was Brendan, still wearing his riding cloak, a broad grin on his face. And even though she was trying to steel herself against the feelings she had for him, she couldn’t help but smile back a little. God, Una would be disappointed in me, she thought with a rueful shrug. But what was she going to do — c
ut off all contact with Brendan overnight? If he really was as bad as Una thought he was, that might do more harm than good. Best to play it safe, right? Pretend that everything was fine? Why was she so worried about explaining her own behavior to Una? Was it true that she was too kind, too naive?

  “How’re things in the village?”

  “A little better,” Brendan said, though he looked worried. “Not out of the woods yet, but the afflicted men seem to be stabilizing, at least. And the guards we’ve brought home to recover here are mended — I visited with them this morning, they should be back on duty in the next few days.”

  “That’s good news,” Elena said. Una would probably be less than thrilled that there were more men out and about, but Elena didn’t like the thought of anyone being sick.

  “And you? How’s the illness? Anna said you were up and about again.”

  “Yeah, it’s slow going, but I’m a lot better than I was,” she said. “It’s good to be out of bed again. I was getting a bit tired of this,” she added, gesturing to the book on her bedside table.

  “Why’s that?”

  “Oh, it’s a good book, but it just feels like the writer’s trying to avoid acknowledging that the Fae exist,” she grumbled. “So many mysterious happenings that clearly had something to do with the Fae, and he just… glosses over it like it’s normal.”

  Brendan chuckled. “Aye, humans are often like that about the things they don’t understand.”

  “Not me. I love a mystery,” Elena said, grinning. “Are there any books that actually try to describe the Fae properly? I’d love to know more about the Sidhe,” she added, struck by inspiration. Maybe she could start researching her so-called benefactors… get a little more information than what she’d heard from the residents of the castle.

  “I can do you one better,” Brendan said unexpectedly. “If you’re free this afternoon and fancy a ride, we could go and visit an expert on the matter.”

  Elena’s eyes widened. This was better than she’d hoped. Books were one thing, but to actually sit and talk with someone who knew about the Fae? “Who? Someone in the village?”

  “Not quite.” Brendan was grinning at her. “Grab some riding clothes, Elena. I think it’s time you met old Maggie.”

  Chapter 28

  How hard could it be to ride a horse, really? Elena had seen plenty of movies. You just sat on the thing and pointed it where to go with the reins, right? Still, a little bit of worry gnawed at her as she and Brendan walked down the corridors of the castle together. It was nice to be by his side again — she couldn’t help but respond to the warmth of his body, the pleasant sound of his voice as he told her about how things were down in the village. She tried to tell herself that she was just excited to get out of the castle, to spend some time outside of these walls… it wasn’t that she was excited to be spending some alone time with Brendan. No, that had nothing to do with it. Her interest in heading out was purely academic.

  She was keen to meet Old Maggie, that at least wasn’t an exaggeration. She’d heard vague references to the woman so often that she’d come to occupy a vaguely mythological position in Elena’s imagining. She was picturing something like a classical image of a witch — a slender, imposing woman, all in black with a pointed black hat atop her gray hair. Impossibly ancient, impossibly wise, impossibly powerful. She knew old Maggie lived by the Loch, halfway between the village and the castle — it would usually be too dangerous for an old woman to live by herself so far outside of a settlement, but for old Maggie, nobody batted an eyelid. The implication was that she was more dangerous than anything that would try to tangle with her.

  Elena hoped she’d have some insight into what the Sidhe were truly like. But could she even trust this old woman? If Maggie was on the same side as the people in the castle — and from what her new friends had said, she was as staunch an ally as anyone — then wasn’t it likely she believed the same lies about their benevolence? If they even were lies, that is, Elena reminded herself. It was troubling, how strongly she felt compelled to believe Una about all this. Was it her gut instinct? Or had Una just done a good job of manipulating her, somehow? Una didn’t strike her as the manipulative type… but then again, she thought with a snort, neither had her ex-boyfriend, and look how that had turned out.

  “How much experience do you have riding?” Brendan asked her as they headed across the courtyard.

  It was a fine day, the sun weak but warm on her face, and she glanced sideways at him. The truth was, the last time she’d been on horseback were pony rides being offered at a particularly extravagant tenth birthday party she’d been invited to. Aged eleven, she had proudly sat atop a shaggy Shetland pony as it was led up and down a small path. Not exactly an Olympic equestrian… but part of her was worried that if she let on to Brendan that she didn’t know how to ride, he’d cancel their excursion together. Better to bluff a little. After all, she’d figure it out when she was on the horse.

  “Not heaps,” she said carefully. “More when I was younger.” That was technically true. What had been the Shetland pony’s name? Apple, or something like that. He’d been a good, steady little mount.

  “You can ride Silver, then,” Brendan said, leading her into the stables.

  She inhaled the smell of horse and hay, smiling a little. She’d always wanted to go horse riding when she was younger — but with four older siblings, money for hobbies wasn’t exactly something they had in excess.

  “She’s a sweet old thing, very docile. She won’t win you any races, but she’ll go all day.”

  He indicated a stall — Elena moved up beside it, curious. Inside stood a gray horse with soft eyes — the mare whuffled curiously and sniffed at the hand Elena extended to her. “Nice to meet you, Silver,” she said softly, a little worried now that she could physically see the creature she’d be riding. “Please don’t throw me off.”

  “D’you know how to tack up a horse?”

  “I will once you teach me,” Elena said brightly, earning a laugh from Brendan that made her stomach felt warm.

  They led their horses outside the stable to a couple of hitching posts, and Brendan disappeared back inside to fetch the tack. The horse he’d chosen was a tall chestnut creature, clearly more energetic than the more sedate mare that Elena had been assigned. She was glad to see how peaceful Silver was, even when the other horse was tugging impatiently at his halter.

  Tacking a horse up wasn’t so complicated, in the end — but it did mean that Elena found herself facing the prospect of jumping onto Silver’s back a lot earlier than she’d been expecting. She bit her lip — but Brendan was at her side, kneeling down to give her a boost. He vaulted her effortlessly up, and she bit back on a yelp of panic as she managed to swing her leg over the horse’s back. And there she was — sitting a little unsurely up in the saddle. I am certainly a lot higher up than I remember, she thought with a pang of worry, thinking back to the little Shetland. On his back, she’d actually been shorter than she was standing up… but up here, on a full-sized horse, it was a different story.

  She put her feet into the stirrups and gathered the reins. Brendan glanced back over his shoulder at her before gently squeezing his horse’s sides with his heels. Feeling very out of her depth, but determined to put on a good show, she did the same — and to her surprise, Silver lurched happily into motion, ambling along after Brendan’s horse. Elena tried to relax into the old mare’s gait, swaying with her movements, not sure she was doing it correctly. Brendan looked a lot stiller on the back of his horse — and a lot more comfortable than she felt. That made sense, she supposed — he’d been doing this all his life. It would be a different matter entirely if we were driving cars, she thought with amusement.

  Brendan waved to the guards on the gate and her eyes widened a little as she saw the gate beginning to raise, letting them out onto the land bridge that connected the island the castle was built on to the mainland. It was a fascinating geographical feature — she hadn’t managed
to get a good look at it yet, and she found herself peering down at it as their horses made their way across the bridge. There was a cool wind whipping across the lake, and she was glad of the thick jacket she was wearing.

  “Maggie’s cottage is this way,” Brendan called once they were across the bridge, gesturing along the shore. “Let’s pick up the pace a little!”

  And before she could react, or dissuade him from that course of action, he’d squeezed his chestnut’s sides — the horse broke into a trot, and before Elena could grab hold of anything to steady herself, she felt Silver automatically join in. What had been a lurching, if steady walk now transformed into a bouncing, jolting trot. Elena felt one of her feet fall out of the stirrup immediately — she yelped, trying to find it again, but in doing so she overbalanced. Her other foot came out of the stirrup, too, and she clutched at the reins, accidentally yanking hard on her mare’s head. Silver whinnied in confusion at the sudden jolt on the reins, turning sharply in response — and the momentum of that was more than enough to send Elena flying from the horse’s back, the reins slipping out of her fingers as she was hurled over Silver’s shoulder.

  She landed on her shoulder and rolled, the movement thankfully absorbing a fair bit of the impact… as did the thick jacket she was wearing. Still, the rocky path was hard, and she felt thoroughly winded as she came to a halt. Up ahead, she heard Brendan shout out in dismay as he turned back to see her flat on the ground — she heard the chestnut’s hoofbeats coming and groaned, covering her face with her hands, feeling absolutely mortified at what had happened. Silver’s snout was suddenly in her face — she could feel the horse’s hot breath on her, whuffling curiously as though questioning what on earth she was doing all the way down there on the ground. She reached up to pat the horse’s nose consolingly, not quite trusting herself to sit up just yet.