“Elena! What happened? Are you okay? Did she get spooked?” Brendan vaulted down from his horse with unbelievable grace, moving quickly over to her and kneeling by her side. “Are you hurt?”
“Just my dignity,” Elena winced, gently pulling herself up into a sitting position and making a ginger exploration of her body. “Bruised but not broken.”
He tilted his head to the side. “Did she shy or did you just…. fall?”
“What are you implying?” Elena asked hotly — but she could tell from the dawning look of realization in Brendan’s eyes that the jig might be up.
“Elena, exactly how many times have you ridden on horseback? Just out of interest?”
“Upwards of — zero,” she said frostily. “An entire one time, in fact. I’m practically an expert.” She sighed, slumping her shoulders. “I rode a pony once when I was a kid, that’s it. I’m sorry. It was stupid not to tell you, I just… I hoped I’d be able to figure it out as we went.”
“You could’ve been hurt,” Brendan said seriously, taking her by the shoulders and giving her a little shake. “Horses are dangerous.”
“I know, I know.” She sighed — but there was a smile twitching at the corner of his lips. “What?”
“Silver looks absolutely flabbergasted,” he said, clearly trying not to laugh. “I don’t think anyone’s fallen off that horse as long as she’s lived.”
Sure enough, the silver mare was looking down at Elena on the ground with what could definitely have been interpreted as a look of dismay. Elena giggled a little despite herself as Brendan pulled her to her feet. “Sorry,” she said again, shrugging. “Shall we walk back?”
“Walk back? You’re not getting out of it that easily, Elena Cross. I promised you an afternoon’s ride, and an afternoon’s ride we shall have. Even if it means I have to teach you to ride myself.”
Chapter 29
Brendan was true to his word. Within minutes, she was back up on Silver’s back, the old adage of ‘get straight back on the horse’ apparently holding true even in medieval Scotland. Though she winced at first as the fresh memory of the fall troubled her, it wasn’t long before sitting on the horse’s back was feeling natural again. To her amusement, Silver, herself seemed to be moving with exaggerated care now — she kept turning her head around to sniff at Elena’s knee, as though she was checking that her passenger was still safely on board.
“First tip,” Brendan said firmly, “is to keep your heels down. If your heels are down, your feet stay in the stirrups.”
He kept at her about that as they rode — it was easy to forget to keep her heels pressed down, especially when Brendan kept giving her extra bits of advice to layer on top. Squeezing the horse with her legs to keep her seat steady, making sure the reins were tight enough to give her control but not so tight as to make the horse uncomfortable, letting her body move enough with the horse’s gait that it felt natural but not so much that she’d unbalance herself… there was a lot to keep in mind, and she was worn out by the time Brendan slowed them down. She’d almost forgotten where they were going, so intent had she been on following all of Brendan’s instructions, and he laughed as she peered at the little cottage with surprise.
“Time flies when you’re having fun,” Elena said, grinning a little — it was one of her mother’s favorite expressions, but Brendan didn’t seem to know it — a pleased smile spread across his face nevertheless, and he headed over to give her a hand down from her horse once he’d leapt gracefully down from the back of his own. “Shouldn’t I be able to get down by myself?” she asked, frowning a little as he helped her slide down from the silver mare’s back.
“Well, yes, eventually,” Brendan said, “but we’ll get to that once you’re more comfortable just sitting on the creature. You did well, Silver,” he added, stroking the inquisitive creature’s snout as she shoved it into his face. “We’ll make Elena a horsewoman yet.”
“I thought I did okay, there,” she said, frowning at him. She prided herself on being a good student and a quick learner — but he was chuckling. “What? What was wrong with my riding?”
“Nothing! You made good progress. But you’re very stiff, that’s all. You’ll have a crick in your neck if you keep that up.”
“What? You were at me to keep the right pressure on the reins —”
“And does clenching your shoulders up to your ears help with that? You work too hard, Elena.”
“Well, maybe that’s because I’ve always had to work twice as hard as men to be thought half as good,” she snapped, frustration not far from the surface, especially with her conversation with Una preying on her mind like it was.
Brendan blinked at her, clearly taken aback by her temper as he tethered both horses loosely to a tree by the cottage.
“Sorry, Elena. I was only teasing. You did well for a beginner.” He tilted his head. “Is that truly what it’s like, for you? Even in the future, when so much has changed?”
She shut her eyes, not especially keen on getting into a conversation about the nuances of feminist history at the moment. “Yeah, pretty much. I had four brothers, and all four of them got way more praise than me for the tiniest achievement imaginable. Harrison gets into some third-rate law school and there’s celebrations for weeks. I make detective in my early twenties and Dad just shrugs.”
“Being a detective isn’t as prestigious as — law school?”
“It’s more prestigious, I think,” Elena said irritably. “And it would’ve been a big deal if I was a boy like my brothers. I think Dad assumed I got the job for diversity points, not on my own merit.” She sighed, realizing a medieval guard captain would have no idea about the concept of a diversity hire. “Never mind.”
“I’ve only known you a few weeks, Elena, but the idea that you ever got a job on anything, but merit is laughable to me,” Brendan said, shrugging a little as he adjusted the long rein on the horses. His chestnut was already nibbling at the grass around the tree — Elena could see that there was a wide patch of grass that was shorter than the rest. This tree must get a fair bit of use as a hitching post, she assumed. How often were people from the castle visiting old Maggie? Well, she supposed that if she was the village witch, she’d get a fair bit of visitation. Idly, she wondered if Una knew Maggie at all.
“That’s nice of you to say,” she said, and he frowned at the offhand tone in her voice.
“Elena — is something wrong? You’ve seemed a little… guarded, today. I hope I haven’t done anything to insult you.”
She hesitated, a little surprised by his insight. He was right — she was guarded today. She was questioning a lot of things that she hadn’t been questioning over the last few weeks as they’d gotten to know each other… and she supposed she was a lot less warm toward him than she had been. But who could blame her? She had a lot on her mind. And what was she supposed to tell him now? Yes, I’m currently trying to figure out whether all men are evil, so if you’ll give me a little bit of space to work on that particular problem…
It was tempting to just tell him everything — tell him all about Una, about what she’d said about the Sidhe, about the men of the castle, about men in general. But she bit her tongue on that, feeling an overwhelming urge to protect Una. She couldn’t tell Brendan about the strange woman who’d saved her life, who hated the Sidhe so deeply — the Sidhe that Brendan considered allies to his cause, to his family, to the castle he served. If there was even the slightest chance that it would endanger her friend, she couldn’t risk it. Better to gather as much information as she could.
“I’m just tired,” she said simply. “I’ve got a lot on my mind, a lot to adjust to… you know?”
“That’s true,” he said, but she could tell he wasn’t satisfied with that as an explanation. “Well, if there’s anything I can do…”
She hesitated, not wanting to leave him feeling completely isolated. She felt so conflicted! On the one hand, Brendan was one of the first friends she’d made here… i
t felt wrong to just cut him off because Una said she should. On the other hand… Una had saved her life. She was technically the first friend she’d made here. Didn’t she owe it to her to take her advice to heart? “You can keep teaching me to ride?” she suggested — and the smile on his face told her that that had been a good decision. Still, anxiety gnawed at her belly. She was going to need to decide once and for all whether she could trust this man — and soon. Otherwise, their flourishing friendship — and the feelings they clearly bore for one another — would get painful.
“Consider yourself my star pupil,” he said cheerfully. “But for now… let’s meet Maggie.”
“Have you told her we’re coming? Ought we have brought her something?”
“You never need to tell Maggie you’re coming. She just knows. As for bringing something, don’t you worry about that.” Brendan reached into the pocket of his cloak, withdrawing a glossy brown bottle with a wink. “Strange as Maggie may be, no Scottish native can turn down a bottle of whisky.”
She laughed as they climbed the stairs to the cottage. Brendan raised his hand to knock on the door — but before he could, it creaked open, letting a rush of hot air out into the warm day. She peered into the gloom of the cottage, waiting for her eyes to adjust — the room she could see was absolutely jam-packed with … everything a person could imagine. Furniture, books, knick-knacks and crockery on absolutely every available surface… and in the midst of it all, what looked like an enormous pile of rags sat by a fire that burned cheerfully in a little heart. That was strange — it must have been a trick of the light, but Elena could have sword that the pile of rags was … moving?
She recoiled in fright, realizing all at once that it wasn’t a trick of the light, and it wasn’t a pile of rags, either. It was a person — the hunched shape of an old woman, prodding furiously at the fire. She was rising to her feet now, and Elena waited for her to rise more — but no, she seemed to have attained her full height, which had to be somewhere under the five foot mark. Elena was shocked to meet someone so much shorter than Anna, whose diminutive frame was often the subject of a sly joke or two.
“Good afternoon, Maggie,” Brendan was saying brightly as the pile of rags shuffled closer. As she neared the light, Elena could make out more of what she was actually wearing — it was dozens of layers of clothing, a ratty faded red cardigan in pride of place. With the scorching heat of the cottage, Elena was amazed that the woman hadn’t overheated long ago. She was wearing what looked like a little woolen beanie pulled down low over her ears, but her bright, keen blue eyes shone out from beneath its brim like a beacon. Her face was incredibly wrinkled, almost more wrinkle than skin — Elena couldn’t even guess at her age, but she wouldn’t have been surprised if someone had told her it was in the triple digits.
This was Old Maggie, she realized, blinking in surprise. Hardly the tall, elegant witch from a storybook she’d imagined… but as the old woman’s toothless mouth split open in a broad grin, she couldn’t help but feel a strong liking for her. It was a little like what she’d felt for Una when she’d met her, actually, she realized with some surprise.
“This must be the new addition,” Maggie cackled in a high, thin voice suited to an old woman… though there was something else in it, something that hinted of a great deal more strength than her diminutive frame might suggest. “I’ve heard a lot about you, that’s for sure.”
“About me? Have Anna and Nancy been by, then?”
“No, not them.” Maggie waved a hand dismissively. “From my old friend out in the Loch. Some call her Nessie. I generally just call her a pain in the neck.”
Elena grinned — but she was intrigued. “You — you talk to the Loch Ness Monster?”
“When she deigns to come and visit. Apparently, you brought her a fish a week ago, and she’s been absolutely besotted since. Hangs out under the docks all day waiting for you to come back.”
“I didn’t see her!” Elena was pleased to hear that her gift of fish had at least found its intended recipient, even if she hadn’t sighted the creature. “I’ll have to bring her another fish.”
“Aye, you must,” Maggie said. “Come in, sit down. We’ll have some tea and talk about faeries. That is what you’ve come for, isn’t it?”
Elena shot Brendan a look — had he mentioned something to Maggie? But he looked as surprised as she was. That was strange — how had Maggie known?
“Magic, of course,” the old woman cackled from over by the fire where she was prodding an ancient kettle into the heart of the flames. “What else?”
Chapter 30
Elena took a deep breath, a little unnerved by the connotations of what Maggie had just casually revealed. Magic had allowed her to know what they were there for, even if they hadn’t said so? Did that mean Maggie could read their minds? Does she know about Una? Elena wondered with a shock of fear. Then she felt a little silly for feeling so guilty. Why would it be a problem for her to have a friend? She hadn’t done anything wrong, had she? Well, she hadn’t told Brendan or anyone at the castle about her friend… or her suspicions that maybe Una had a point about the Sidhe being less benevolent than everyone suspected… she bit her lip, a little worried even as Brendan ushered her over to find a seat on the squashed little couch in front of Maggie’s fire.
God, how did the woman get around in here? She could barely move. For Elena, who preferred a minimalist approach to design, the little cottage was almost overwhelming. But somehow, as Maggie moved, the whole place just seemed to suit her. Nothing was ever in the way — she brushed past things without upsetting them, and everything she picked up seemed to find its way back to its place with a minimum of fuss. There was something quite nice about it, really, seeing someone perfectly suited to their space.
And she had to admit, she wasn’t too dismayed about having to share such a small piece of furniture with Brendan. Their legs were pressed together, and she could feel the warmth of his arm against her — there was simply no room to be sitting any other way. There was a gleam in Maggie’s eyes as she gave them both a mug of steaming hot tea, and Elena wondered to herself whether the old woman could tell there was something going on between them… or whether she was just making assumptions based on their genders. And besides, she told herself sternly, there is nothing going on between us. Just some light flirtation… which may well have just been Brendan being polite, nothing more.
“Tell me about yourself, young woman. I’m always fascinated by these strays we get through the Burgh,” Maggie said brightly, leaning forward. She’d taken a seat in an ancient, squashed old armchair that seemed to fit her odd little body perfectly.
Elena nodded, sipping at her tea before she spoke. “Well. I’m Elena Cross,” she offered first, not sure whether her name had been passed on to Maggie. “I’m from Baltimore — that’s in Maryland,” she added, then realized that neither Maggie nor Brendan would have any way of knowing where Maryland was. “In America,” she added with a sigh.
“America! That’s where the other two are from. Interesting,” Maggie said, speaking to Brendan though her eyes didn’t leave Elena. “And how did you get here?”
“Well — I’m a detective with the Baltimore PD,” she said, not sure whether Maggie knew what that was, either. God, it was difficult to communicate across four hundred years. No wonder Shakespeare had been such a drag to study in high school. “That means I — investigate crimes, try to figure out who’s to blame, then help catch them and lock them up.”
“Oh, aye. A little like what Brendan here does. Makes sense,” Maggie said cryptically, her eyes still gleaming.
Elena decided against asking her what she meant by that — she could feel Brendan stiffen up a little beside her and could sense without looking at him that he was a little embarrassed.
“Anyway, me and my partner Billy drove out to this old tenement to look into a murder. A couple of men had been found, pretty badly wasted — no connection to one another, but the bodies both turned up
in this basement, so obviously we needed to check it out.” She waved a hand, trying not to get bogged down in the details of the case. “Anyway. I was halfway down the steps — I felt them give out underneath me — felt myself falling…. then I was underwater.”
“Ah,” Maggie said softly, and her eyes flicked to Brendan, suddenly somber. “That’d be the reason, then. Have ye explained —”
“Anna told me a little about the Sidhe,” Elena said quickly, not liking it when people talked about her like a child who couldn’t possibly know what was going on. “That they saved Anna and Nancy from certain death and brought them here, right?”
“Aye, that’s it.” Maggie tilted her head. “But you’re not convinced, are you?”
How had she known that? Elena took a breath, not sure whether to lie or to come clean about her misgivings. Some of them, maybe — not all of them. “I’m not sure. Everyone says the Fae are hard to understand, that’s all... seems strange to make that kind of assumption about them based on not much evidence.”
“Spoken like an investigator of mysteries,” Maggie said thoughtfully, a strange light dancing in her eyes. “So you’ve doubts about the Sidhe.”
“Not — exactly. It’s not that I’m not grateful to be alive. I had a dream — a memory, I suppose — I saw then healing my wounds.”
Brendan turned to her sharply, his eyes wide. “You did? You didn’t tell me —”
“You were in the village.” She raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t know I was supposed to report everything that happened to you —”
Maggie cackled, a high, grating sound that was somehow rather pleasant. “I like this one, Brendan. What else did the dream tell you, Elena?” What was that knowing tone in Maggie’s voice? It felt like she’d been a step ahead of this conversation the whole time… but she was still insisting on having Elena explain things. That meant she didn’t know everything already. She could be careful about how much information she disclosed.
Swept By The Highlander: A Scottish Time Travel Romance-Highlander Forever Book 3 Page 18