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

by Preston, Rebecca

  “Anna was doing what she needed to do to get past those guards out there. Do you have any idea how frightened they are? Their best friend is wasting away in front of them, ranting and raving about how desperately he loves some red-headed woman… is it any wonder they’re worried about you? And what have you done to reassure them?”

  “It’s not my job to reassure them!” Elena snarled. “If they’re going to be backwards, superstitious idiots who’d rather see women in cages —”

  “I know. It’s awful that you’re here, Elena, truly. But it’s only for a few days. God, do you know what would have happened to you in the village? Women get burned on less evidence of witchcraft than this, Elena! Believe it or not, this is one of the better options. A quiet room to yourself for a few days. Beats the hell out of a trial by stone.”

  “What’s that?”

  “They tie rocks around you, bind your hands and hurl you in the water. I read about it,” Nancy said, jaw clenched. “It’s the sixteenth century. It’s bullshit. But Brendan’s trying his best, okay? Stop being such a goddamn bear about it.”

  Elena took a deep breath. She’d never heard Nancy speak so passionately before. She almost felt chastened… but the thought of Una flashed into her mind. Men. Always awful — some better at hiding it than others. It was true. It wasn’t Nancy’s fault that she’d been sucked in… and Elena felt a strange wave of pity rush over her for the poor woman. What was Nancy supposed to do? She was married, pregnant… she was as tied to her husband and the world of men as Anna was. Elena couldn’t help either of them. So she heaved a deep sigh, deciding to take a leaf out of the book of men. Time to disguise her true feelings, her true self. “Nancy, you’re right. I’m so sorry. I’m just going crazy, stuck in here, you know?”

  Nancy still looked a little suspicious — but her shoulders relaxed, and she moved over to sit by Elena on the bed, giving her shoulder a soothing pat. “I know. But it won’t be much longer. From what Brendan’s been saying, there’s no sign of any of the men getting any better… only the ones who come to the castle to stay seem to be on the mend.”

  “Eamon?”

  “He disappeared after you saw him in the village,” Nancy sighed. “Nobody knows where he is.”

  Thinking back to the sickly man who’d lunged at her, Elena found to her surprise that she couldn’t summon much sympathy for him. It was his fault she was stuck in here, imprisoned in a cell with nothing to read… speaking of which…

  “You brought books.”

  “I did! I did a bunch of research when I first came here, trying to figure out a way back home… I remembered the more interesting histories and accounts of folklore and stuff. Thought they might pass the time, at least.” Her eyes sparkled as she handed one over. “This one’s really funny. Lots of jokes, and a few more — well, saucy stories.”

  “Saucy how?”

  “You’ll find out. Let’s just say that not everything up there in those scholars’ collections is as dry as old dust.”

  “Thanks, Nancy,” she said, reaching out to squeeze the other woman’s hand. “These’ll help me get through it.”

  Nancy hesitated. “You know Brendan really cares about you, right? I’ve never seen him so torn up over something. He’s really upset that you’re up here.”

  “Yeah, so he should be,” Elena muttered. “Can’t imagine how it must feel to be upset about how someone’s treating you…”

  “He’s captain of the Guard, Elena. You know his hands are tied with this stuff. If they see him giving you any kind of preferential treatment, they’ll say it’s because you’ve bewitched him —”

  “It’s not my fault these men hate women, Nancy,” Elena snapped, and she winced as Nancy recoiled at the harsh tone in her voice. “I’m allowed to be hurt and angry that I’m being imprisoned with no trial like a common criminal. He’s just going to have to wear it. Okay?”

  Nancy sighed, but Elena could tell she had no argument for that. “Okay. I guess. Just… be nice to him, okay? He’s doing his best.”

  “I’ll be nice to you,” she said, drawing a smile from her friend. “No promises for Brendan. Or any of the rest of these men.”

  She was five days into her period of imprisonment when Brendan came to visit her again. This time, he brought her lunch. He looked miserable — dead on his feet, still wearing his riding clothes as though he’d just come in from a long trip. And though her anger was still raging with as much fury as it had been the last time he’d seen her, she felt herself pause just a little at the look of utter dejection on his face and his body.

  “What’s wrong with you?” she said, trying to sound disinterested.

  He heaved a sigh, passing her the bowl of soup (they’d started giving her wooden bowls after the first few shattered ones made of crockery — it was funny, if a little less satisfying to hurl them at the wall.)

  “Haven’t slept much, is all. Spending a lot of time in the village.”

  “Watch out. They’ll notice you’ve got two arms and two legs like the baobhan sith and then they’ll want to burn you at the stake! Wait, no — that would be absurd, wouldn’t it?”

  But he didn’t rise to it. Too tired? That was disappointing. She kept a beady eye on him, her anger wanting something to vent itself through.

  “Elena, I didn’t come to fight with you.”

  “You’d lose.”

  “Aye, probably, the state I’m in.” He sighed again. “You were right when you told me it was important to take care of myself —”

  “I don’t care if you take care of yourself. Tell me when you’re letting me out of the room,” she snapped — and the wince of pain that passed across his face pulled at her heartstrings more than she was happy with. For a moment, doubt lanced through her. Was she being too cruel? Should she give him a little bit of sympathy, be the bigger person? No — no, she was the one who was being wronged here, not him. She hung onto her anger. It was the only thing giving her strength in here.

  “There have been deaths.”

  That stilled her anger. “Deaths?”

  “Aye. Three men, in the village. And Eamon’s still not returned.”

  She bit her lip. Part of her wanted to rub it in his face that imprisoning her hadn’t succeeded in stopping what was going on… part of her even wanted to accuse him of hastening the deaths. After all, if she’d been out there helping him, instead of trapped in here losing her mind, who knew what could have happened? She might have solved the case before the men died. But looking at him now, so full of grief and misery, so exhausted… she just couldn’t bring herself to give him any more pain. He seemed to sense that in her, and his eyes flicked up to hers, full of relief… and something like hope. But she turned away from it. She wasn’t going to try to actively torture him… but she also wasn’t going to give him anything other than the cold shoulder. He didn’t deserve her affection, her comfort, her trust. That horse had bolted five days ago, when he dragged her back to the castle and imprisoned her in this room like a criminal.

  “So,” she said finally, once the heavy silence had weighed on them long enough. “People are still dying. The women in green is, presumably, still visiting the sick. I have been stuck in here for nearly a week with cold iron all around me and nothing to read but Nancy’s ridiculous smutty joke book.”

  Brendan’s lip twitched a little at that. “Aye, I know the one. Infamous little volume.”

  She steeled herself against the urge to laugh with him about the book. He hadn’t earned that yet — he had no right to a friendly conversation with her. “So, it’s pretty obvious to me that I’m not the witch.”

  “Aye,” Brendan said stiffly. “That would seem to be the case. I never doubted it,” he added.

  “Yes, you did,” she said simply, and he couldn’t meet her eyes. That hurt more than she was willing to admit — she looked down at her hands instead, trying to distract herself to stop the tears spilling down her cheeks. “So when am I allowed out of here?”

/>   “Give me another day.”

  “You’re joking.”

  “One more day, Elena. To talk to the Laird, to explain to the village council that you’ve been locked in here for days and there’s no way you’re responsible. Okay? I have proof of your innocence, now. Concrete proof.”

  “Another whole day stuck in here. Even though you know I’m innocent, that I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “I know it’s a big ask, but —”

  “Why even ask me? I’m your prisoner,” she said sharply. “You can do what you want. Keep me in here forever, if it suits you. Break my spirit completely. Isn’t that how you people deal with women?”

  “Elena —”

  “Leave me alone,” she hissed.

  When he did, she sat on her bed, her head in her hands. She’d never felt more alone.

  Chapter 53

  The rest of the afternoon, she spent asleep. She got up for a little while, ate her dinner… then dropped herself in bed again and slept through the night. Not a restful sleep, not a pleasant one… just a sleep that obliterated her consciousness, made time pass quicker. She ate breakfast, slept through the midmorning, ate lunch, slept through the afternoon. There was just nothing else to do… even Nancy’s bawdy joke book just made her sad. She was just glad she’d never slept with Brendan… if she’d given in and had sex with him, she’d be feeling fifty times more disgusting and used. But knowing that she’d thought about it, that was bad enough. He’d gotten to her. She’d fallen for him, more than a little bit… and what was worse, those feelings hadn’t gone away completely. Having him here with her, close to her in this tiny little room, she could feel that her body wanted him, that she was drawn to him the same way she had been before the day in the village when everything had fallen apart. What did that mean? That her body was stupid? No, it meant she was stupid. Kind, and vulnerable, and naive, and stupid. She needed someone like Una to look after her, to keep her away from men, to stop her doing such profoundly stupid things like falling in love.

  Her dreams were awful. In them, she was racing through a forest, trying desperately to get somewhere, to do something important. She had to save someone, had to avert some terrible catastrophe that was going to do a lot of harm to a lot of people… the details were vague, but the mission was desperately important. She found herself by a lake, staring down into its depths — she could see a face like hers, but not hers, but something was in the way. Something that looked like iron bars… she reached down into the water, feeling the icy cold water wrap around her wrist, and took hold of the iron bars. They moved a little in her hand and she yanked at them furiously, desperate to get them out of the way of the reflection that wasn’t a reflection, trying with all her might to free the face at the bottom of the lake so that she could talk to it, find out what she had to do, what was going on…

  Finally, the iron came free. And the face at the bottom of the lake came rushing up at her, screaming as it came, its features distorted and monstrous and its huge jaws ready to swallow her whole —

  She sat bolt upright in bed, stifling a scream at the vivid imagine she’d seen in her dream, staring wildly around the room as the adrenaline screamed in her veins. No — no monsters here, no red-braided hell creatures… just the same, boring room that she’d been trapped in for a week now. And it was getting dark… she sighed, realizing the sun had almost set on another stupid, pointless day of being a prisoner. What had that dream meant? she wondered. It had been strange…. a monstrous mirror-image of her own face, screaming at her from the depths of a lake. Some kind of message about what she was turning into? She certainly felt like an animal, caged up in here. Was her dream telling her that she was turning into a monster? Maybe. But what was the significance of the iron bars? The iron bars might have represented her imprisonment… she shook her head, a little amused. Dreams didn’t mean anything.

  Heaving a sigh, she got to her feet, padding over to the window ledge to retrieve the iron cross. Pointless as it was for keeping her from escaping, or whatever the logic had been to putting it there, she had been having an enjoyable time using it to carve profanities into the stone floors and walls of the room. She’d been subtle so far, hiding them where they wouldn’t be found by visiting servants, but she was beginning to get bolder with her art. She usually worked in the late afternoons, when there was plenty of sunlight to see by, but she’d finally been given a torch to read by in the last few days, so she fully intended to spend the rest of the evening on her exciting little carving project.

  She was so lost in her work that she hardly heard the gentle sound of tapping on the stone of her window. It wasn’t until she heard her own name, uttered in a low, breathy, hauntingly familiar voice, that she sat bolt upright, the hair on the back of her neck prickling. Surely not… was this wishful thinking?

  “Elena!”

  “Una?” She rose to her feet, turning to the window — and to her shock and absolute delight, she saw the face she’d been thinking so much about, peering in through the window. Her confusion at how that was even possible paled in the face of her joy at seeing Una, and she started forward — only to be warned off by a feral hiss.

  “Elena, in your hand, your hand —” There was pain on her face. Una stared down at her hand — and realized with a jolt that she was holding the cold iron cross, still. She gasped, hurling it across the room as hard as she could — it skittered into the corner, as far away from the window as it was possible to get, and Una sighed with relief, drawing a broad smile out of Elena. God, it was so good to see her face…

  “How did you get up here? We must be a hundred feet above the lake…” She moved cautiously to the window, her eyes wide. Was Una a rock climber in her spare time, or something? But the woman’s eyes just danced with amusement. There was wind whipping at her hair, and when Elena peered through the window, she recoiled in shock.

  Because Una was standing on the open air, as comfortably as she stood on the docks. She wasn’t floating, or flying — her feet were simply there, a hundred feet above the ground, solid as a rock. And — Elena’s eyes widened even more — she was holding her skirts up a little, and for the first time, Elena could see her feet. She wasn’t wearing hard-soled boots, as Elena had always assumed from the sound of her footsteps. Instead, beneath her full skirts, there were two hooves at the end of delicate, tapered ankles. Una was looking at her, a little apprehensively, as she stared down at her friend’s feet.

  “You — you’ve got hooves,” Elena said, feeling a bit stupid. “And you can fly. You’ve got hooves and you can fly.”

  “I told you I wanted to share more of myself with you, Elena my dearest,” she murmured, her eyes downcast. “Do you fear me? Am I monstrous?”

  “Are you kidding? You’re amazing! I had no idea you could fly!”

  Una beamed, reaching a hand through the window to touch Elena’s cheek the way she always did. It felt so good to have physical contact again — Elena reached up to touch Una’s hand, pressing it to her cheek, not even minding how freezing cold it was. “Una, I’m so sorry I haven’t been to see you. They locked me in here, I couldn’t get away…”

  “Dearest heart, I know. I knew. Don’t be sorry, my darling, I heard what they did to you, what they said to you.”

  “It was so unfair! I didn’t do anything — they just assumed that because I’m a woman with red hair that I —”

  “I know. I know. Men are like that. They make their accusations, throw their words around… it doesn’t matter now, Elena, my darling. We’re together.”

  “But I can’t get out of here,” she whispered, tears in her eyes. “And even when they do let me out, they’re going to be so suspicious of me — I won’t be able to come and meet you by the docks, it’ll be too dangerous…”

  “You won’t need to come and meet me by the docks, my dearest, if you come with me for good.”

  Elena stared at her through the window, deep into those dark eyes, the same color as the night sky that ou
tlined her face. For a dizzy moment, she was reminded of her dream… of the face she’d seen at the bottom of the lake, the monstrous face that was almost hers, but not quite… and deep in her gut, deep beneath her anger, her fear, her relief at seeing Una… she felt fear strike her so hard that she almost staggered.

  “Come with you?”

  “Elena, there’s nothing for you here, is there? You’ve seen it, now. You’ve seen the truth of the man who’s snagged you by the heartstrings. You poor thing, you poor dear thing. Of course you felt for him. Of course you fell, just a little, look at you… men are clever and crafty, and they spin traps for their prey, lure them in. The one called Brendan. He has your heart, doesn’t he?”

  She took a deep, shaky breath. She didn’t want it to be true… and she really didn’t want to admit it to Una… but she couldn’t lie to her. Not when she was looking at her like that, with those huge dark eyes… “A little. Yes. I’m sorry,” she added softly, shutting her eyes. “I feel like I’ve let you down…”

  “You could never let me down, my darling Elena. Never. And you don’t have to be ashamed anymore. I know how to set you free.”

  “Set me free?” Elena blinked. It would only be a day or two before she was released from her imprisonment — she didn’t want to do anything too drastic. But would she really be free, even when they let her out of this room?

  It was like Una was reading her mind — she barely had to open her mouth before the woman was shaking her head. “Free for good, not just free from this cage within a cage within a cage.”

  “How?” she asked, her heart pounding wildly in her ribcage. “How do I get free?” Was Una going to tell her how to return to her own time? “Through the Burgh… back in Baltimore?”

  “Were you free of men there, Elena?” Una asked gently, a look of infinite compassion in her coal-black eyes. “Were you safe there?”

  “No,” she whispered, thinking of Nick, thinking of her father, thinking of the misogyny and bigotry and prejudice she faced every single day of her life, the boys’ club mentality of the force, the constant struggle to be taken seriously. “Not even there.”