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

by Preston, Rebecca

  Well, let him chalk it up to the mysteries of the female species. She needed to get a lot more information together before she told him about Una. She wanted to — god, she wanted to. The best outcome possible would be all three of them being friends and working together to solve the case. She pictured all three of them, riding down the shore of the Loch on horseback, and smiled to herself. They’d have to go after dark, but it wasn’t a completely ridiculous idea, was it? After all, Maggie and Darter were both Fae, and they were friends of the people in the castle. So was the Monster… and the Sidhe. She just needed to introduce Una in the right way.

  And that meant figuring out who was causing this disease as quickly as possible. Because if Eamon’s symptoms were anything to go by, it was going to get worse before it got better. Good thing Baltimore’s finest detective was on the case.

  Chapter 44

  The rest of the day passed slowly. Elena was impatient for dawn to come — she wanted to get ready for their day of investigating, wanted this mystery well and truly behind them. And as dinner wound up and she headed up the stairs, she was torn about whether she should go and see Una once the night had closed in. She missed her friend, she realized — Una was good company, a pleasant person to be around. She always enjoyed their conversations, enjoyed the sense of quiet intimacy they shared, standing out there in the cold night air with nothing but the lapping of the Loch against the shore to disturb their quiet. What was it about her that was so appealing? Elena had no shortage of female friends — she’d gotten very close with Anna and Nancy since she’d been here, and knew they were friends for life… but there was something different about the time she spent with Una. Something magnetic. Something almost like the pull she felt to Brendan — but that was sexual attraction. Whatever it was that drew her to Una was … different. Softer, more subtle, harder to pin down. More like a sigh than a groan.

  But she knew that it would be dangerous, very dangerous, to slip out of the castle again tonight. For a start, she knew Brendan was on guard duty, and she knew how sharp his eye was — if he was looking for her, he’d find her. He knew exactly where she went, and knowing him, he’d have positioned himself over that particular spot, just to see if she went out there. Maybe that meant she should go — wave up to him on the battlement jauntily as she went, just to show him that she wasn’t afraid, that her visits to the dock were completely above board and nothing to hide or be ashamed of. She was halfway up to put her boots on before she bit her lip, sat back down on her little bed and frowned to herself. What if Una turned up to see her? What if Brendan spotted her — and worse, assumed that she was responsible for the men’s disease?

  After all, it was a reasonable assumption to draw if you didn’t have all the facts… a bunch of sick men moaning about a woman in green, a woman in green appearing outside the castle after dark… at the very least, Brendan would want to take her in for questioning. He’d either frighten her off, probably breaking her trust in Elena in the process.. or worse, capture her with iron, and inflict exactly the kind of trauma she’d spent so long dealing with.

  No — no, as much as Elena might want to see her friend, she simply couldn’t risk it tonight. She had enough information to go on for now — she could afford to leave it for a night. After all, it wasn’t as if she and Una had set dates they’d agreed on to visit outside the walls… she wouldn’t be offended if Elena missed a night or two, especially if she explained that she was doing it to protect her. Hopefully, we’ll find some useful information on our mission tomorrow, she thought to herself, settling down in bed with a little pang of regret at the thought that she’d have to wait longer to see Una. If they could crack this case, come up with some kind of evidence that would exonerate Una, then Elena could see about telling Brendan about her. Carefully, and with due concern for both of their respective prejudices — Brendan’s hatred for Unseelie Fae, and Una’s hatred for men who bore cold iron.

  She fell asleep a little while later, and this time her dreams were a little calmer. They were mostly set in Baltimore tonight, and to her surprise her father featured heavily, this time — he was shouting at her the same way Brendan had in the dreams of the night before. Typical of her father, to be shouting advice at her even in her dreams… but just like Brendan in the previous night’s dream, she couldn’t make out a word he was saying. She leaned in close, trying to lip read — and then caught just a single flash of what he was shouting. What she heard shocked her so much she woke up, sitting bolt upright in bed.

  “Trust your instincts,” she whispered, repeating her father’s words. Funny — that was maybe the most encouraging thing he’d ever said to her. It felt good, to hear his voice, even in a dream… and she felt tears jump to her eyes. For the first time since she’d gotten here and learned that there was no way home, she was actually grieving the loss of her father… the knowledge that she’d never see him again. What would he assume, when she went missing? Killed in the line of duty, she hoped. He’d understand that, at least… maybe even be proud of her, in his own way. God, she wished she could reach out to him, make some kind of contact to tell him she was okay, that she loved him. Maybe a letter? Was there some way of preserving a letter that would make it last four hundred years?

  She fell back to sleep, and woke just after dawn, feeling well rested… and ready for the investigation, her dream-father’s words burning in her ears. Trust your instincts, that’s what he’d told her. Well, she would. And her instincts told her to start with an enormous breakfast.

  Brendan was in the dining hall — he smiled at her as she joined him at his table, looking tired but ready for action.

  “How was your evening?” she asked innocently. “Any mad women down on the docks?”

  “None,” he said, grinning at her, clearly pleased that this was a subject they could joke about. “Much to my disappointment. There I was, ready with a dozen eggs to throw at any women foolish enough to dare the beasties of the Burgh to eat her up…”

  She laughed, her eyes widening in shock. “You wouldn’t have egged me!”

  “Well, it’s Malcolm who’s the better marksman,” Brendan said thoughtfully, “so ideally I’d have gotten him to have a go, but — yes, absolutely I’d have egged you.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said severely. “You’re showing your true colors, Brendan. Now where on earth are we riding to today?”

  He nodded, his face sobering a little as they turned to the subject of the investigation. “Aye. Well, I’ve packed us a lunch so we can stay out all day,” he said, gesturing down to a bag sitting on the bench beside him. “Well, more accurately, Blair has packed us a lunch, at my humble request.”

  “She’s the best. So we’ll head out to visit with the sick farmers?”

  “I’d like to make the village our first stop. Father Caleb doubtless has news of what’s going on down there — if any of the sick people who recovered have relapsed, or if anyone’s come down with the contagion in the meanwhile, he’ll know about it.” His eyes twinkled at her. “Father Caleb, your secret love.”

  “Oh, yes. Aren’t you worried we’ll run away together the minute I see him?”

  “A risk I’ll have to take,” he said heavily, dusting his hands off. “But once we’ve checked on him, we’ll ride out to as many of the farms and cottages in the outlying area as we can reach before dark. We won’t get to all of them today, but we’ll do our best.”

  “Why not?” she wanted to know, frowning a little. “We could take torches, surely — is it so dangerous to ride after dark?”

  “Aye, it is,” he said. “Unseelie Fae tend to move by night. Daylight’s safe — the weaker ones are nocturnal, and the more powerful ones tend to vanish entirely in the sunlight. But once night falls, their strength builds. I’m good with a sword, but there’s only the one of me. I can’t promise to keep us both safe from something that has this kind of an effect on men.”

  “Wish I’d brought my service revolver,” she grumbled, thi
nking of her gun at the bottom of the Loch. “I’d show a monster who it was tangling with.”

  “Oh, I don’t doubt you would. But until you’re as good with a sword as you are with your quick wit, better to run away if you spot any Fae creatures.”

  She grinned to herself, thinking of Una with a bit of guilt running down her spine. If only Brendan knew how thoroughly she’d ignored that particular advice… she hoped they could laugh about it, one day, when everything came out. In the meantime, she just sipped at her cup of water, then took a final spoonful of her porridge and got to her feet. “Time’s a factor, right? Let’s head out.”

  “Aye, boss,” Brendan said, raising an eyebrow at her in amusement.

  She grinned, and with a burst of courage, slipped her hand into his as they walked from the dining hall. It felt good, to hold his hand… it was strong and warm, his palms and fingers much bigger and thicker than hers, but she couldn’t help thinking of the touch of Una’s cold, slender hands even as they talked and laughed together. Strange, that. It felt like the more she saw Una, the more she thought about her, the more her presence seemed to follow her, even in the bright daylight.

  They rode at a fast walk — Brendan was still refusing to teach her how to trot, saying that they needed to spare the horses, anyway, as they had a long ride ahead of them. She was back on Silver, pleased to see the white mare, who was feeling a lot more confident under her the more time they spent together. It was as though they’d gotten to know one another through riding together — like a trust was being built up between them. There was something lovely about it, and she was beginning to understand why so many of her friends in high school had been absolutely obsessed with horses.

  Old Maggie was sitting on her porch when they rode by, and she gave them a jaunty wave, her bright eyes peering out from under the brim of the hat she was wearing. They waved back, Brendan calling out an apology that they couldn’t stop, but Maggie waved them on with a knowing chuckle. There was no sign of Darter anywhere — was that to do with Fae being nocturnal? But then what was Maggie’s excuse for sitting out on the porch? She asked Brendan when they were out of earshot, and he just laughed.

  “Old Maggie does whatever she wants. There isn’t a rule she wouldn’t break out of spite.”

  The village was a lot busier than it had been when they’d last visited. There seemed to be more people in the streets, pottering back and forth, and more people out in their gardens, taking advantage of the sunshine. Elena felt a lot of curious eyes on her, and she ducked her head, a little shy. Why were they staring at her like that? Was it just that she was a newcomer to the place? She’d gotten attention before for her bright red hair, but she’d always thought that that was more common in Scotland… sure enough, as she scanned the crowds she spotted more than a few redheads. Why was she the subject of such scrutiny then?

  And then she saw something that surprised her. A familiar face on a sickly body, lurching up out of the crowds toward her, clutching at her mare’s mane and causing the horse to back away with a low whinny of unease.

  Eamon. What on earth is he doing all the way down here?

  Chapter 45

  Elena stared down at the man who was reaching up to her for all the world like he was drowning, a little shocked by his appearance. He’d declined so much since the day before that he was almost unrecognizable — his face was more gaunt and sunken, his frame seemed narrower, but the same desperate, demented look was in his half-empty eyes when he reached for her, mouthing her name as though he lacked the power to say it aloud.

  Brendan, who had ridden on ahead, turned back to her with concern on his face. “Elena? We need to — Eamon?”

  “Just one kiss,” the man croaked, and Elena recoiled from him, tugging at the reins — as if reading her mind, Silver started walking backwards, tossing her head to dislodge the guard’s sickly, clinging hands. Without the support of the horse — which he’d been half-clutching, half-leaning on — Eamon dropped to his knees in the mud like a puppet with its strings cut. He was drawing attention from the people of the village, Elena noticed, but to her shock none of them seemed surprised by his strange behavior. One woman shook her head in dismay with a sad little smile, lowering her head and hurrying on. Eamon was moaning where he sat in the mud, his fingertips reaching out toward Elena even as he slumped in abject defeat.

  “What the hell’s wrong with you, man? Pull yourself together!” Brendan had reined his horse to a stop beside the guard — he leapt from the horse’s back nimbly, dropping to a crouch beside Eamon with genuine worry on his face. “How’d you even get down here? I thought you were in the castle —”

  “She led me,” Eamon croaked, extending a trembling hand to Elena. “Through the night, through the mist, she led me…”

  “What’s he talking about, Elena?” Brendan was staring up at her, and to her shock there was an almost accusatory look in his eyes. What was his problem? He didn’t seriously believe this madman, did he? How on earth could she have gotten out of the castle, walked all the way down here, then gotten back and hidden herself away in her room without him noticing?

  “Why are you asking me? He’s insane!”

  “I’ll follow you forever, my love, my only—”

  “That’s enough out of you,” Elena snapped, sliding off her horse in a fit of anger and landing much more gracefully than she’d been expecting. Silver lowered her head to nibble at the grass while Elena advanced on Eamon, slumped in the mud but looking up at her with a look of rapturous joy on his sunken face. “What do you mean, you followed me?”

  “Last night,” he croaked. “In your green dress, I followed, I followed…”

  “Is it her?”

  Another voice, not as weak as Eamon’s but close enough. Elena looked up, completely at a loss to explain what was happening. There, limping out of a cottage in a long white nightshirt that swamped his emaciated frame, was another man. This one was a stranger — but he was familiar by the look on his face, the hollowness of his cheeks, the gaunt frame he dragged across the yard as though he was on his last legs.

  “My Lady… my lady fair! You’ve come.. you’ve come in the daylight…”

  She stared at him. This young man would barely have been old enough to vote, back home — there was a touch of gangly adolescence to his frail frame, which made the emaciation all the more horrifying. As he reached toward her, supporting himself on the post, she saw a woman come bustling out of the cottage after him, her voice raised in dismay.

  “Mick! Mick, you’re too weak to be out and about like this, you’re too —” The woman caught sight of Elena, and she uttered a shriek, covering her mouth with her hand as she did. “It’s her!”

  “It’s her,” Mick echoed brightly, his brown eyes widening with delight. “I told you, I told you she wasn’t a dream —”

  “Just what the devil is going on here?” Brendan demanded, his voice rising in anger for perhaps the first time since Elena had met him.

  She shrank away instinctively, reminded in a rush of her father, of the way his temper would flare up — behind her, she felt her horse shy a little, clearly unnerved by what was going on. And as she turned to comfort the mare, she realized that they had become quite a spectacle. There were dozens of townsfolk surrounding them — standing by, watching closely, knowing looks on their guarded faces. What was going on? Why was she being singled out like this? Why were these two clearly sick men calling out to her as though they knew her… and more to the point, why did Brendan seem to be blaming her for it?

  “I’ve never met this man before in my life,” she said desperately, gesturing to Mick. “And I only met Eamon yesterday — because he was following me around — and I certainly didn’t lead him through any mists! I don’t even own a green dress!”

  “Lady, lady,” Mick was singing, and she recoiled as he took a few steps toward her with his hand outstretched. But she backed into her horse, felt herself trapped against the animal’s side as Mick lurched and
stumbled toward her. Up close, his bright eyes looked feverish, and she tensed her body, not wanting to strike him — he looked like he’d shatter under her fist like a pane of glass — but ready to do what she needed to do to protect herself. But when Mick got up close, she saw the expression on his face die, rapture replaced with utter disappointment, dejection, abandonment. Desolation. Despair. He took a few shambling steps away from her, and she could see tears welling up in his face.

  “Not her,” he moaned, “not my lady, not true —”

  “A likely story,” Elena heard one of the villagers hiss to another under her breath. “Bewitched him again to say what she wanted —”

  “Excuse me?” Elena snapped, wheeling on the woman. “Do you have something to say to me?”

  But instead of looking embarrassed, the woman squared up to her, her hard blue eyes blazing with an anger that Elena had rarely seen before. “I’ve got nothing at all to say to the likes of you,” the woman spat with undisguised venom dripping from her voice. “I don’t say aught to witches.”

  “My Mitch was an angel every day of his life til you came to prey upon him,” the woman who’d come chasing Mitch out of the cottage called across the circle, a similar look of fury on her face. “Now look what you’ve made of him. You’re a monster.”

  “I didn’t do anything!” Elena protested, staring around the circle, a little worried by how quickly this was getting out of hand. Before, the villagers had been an interested group of civilians… now, they were rapidly making the shift into being a mob. She’d been at protests before that turned into riots — she knew how quickly that shift could be made, and how hard it was to reverse it once it had flipped. These guys were still on the verge — but how could she head them off when she was the thing they were furious with?