“It’s happened again,” the second woman pronounced in a serious tone, and Bethany frowned at her, not understanding. But the proclamation didn’t seem to be for her benefit. “Lord, I thought this curse had been broken.”
“Curse? Listen — I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was in the ruins of the castle near here, and I must have passed out — I’m assuming someone found me and brought me here.” Her gun was still at her hip and she could feel her phone in her pocket, so she knew she hadn’t been robbed, but there was still a strong sense of disorientation and fear low in her gut. She needed to know where she was, what time it was, how much time she’d lost.
“I’m going to get Gavin,” the second maid said solemnly, ignoring her questions. “He’ll sort all this out. His lady wife was one of these, after all.”
And with that, the maid had disappeared. The second one stayed, peering anxiously at Bethany as though she’d never seen anyone like her. Bethany relented a little, not liking the look of fear on the woman’s face. The uniform shouldn’t be about striking fear into people’s hearts — people should feel safe around soldiers, not hunted. So she tried to offer the woman a smile.
“My name’s Bethany.”
“Madge,” the maid squeaked, bobbing an odd little curtsy. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am. You’re from the future, then?”
Bethany blinked at that, taken aback. “Excuse me?”
“Like all the other women,” she said brightly. “Lady Audrina, and Cora, and Marianne, and Karin and Fiona and Delilah, of course, and —”
“Who?” Bethany was frowning. That had been her sister’s name among that mixture… a coincidence? What on earth was this strange woman talking about?
But the door burst open, putting an end to any follow-up questions she might have had. There was a man standing in the doorway, and Bethany’s eyes widened as she took him in. He was a bear of a man, huge and broad — her eyes flicked down to the weapon on his hip, but it wasn’t a gun, like she’d expected. It was a sword. It matched the rest of the ensemble, she supposed — he was dressed like some kind of Scottish warrior, with a mixture of chainmail and leather armor covering his shoulders and chest, the whole ensemble completed by a tartan kilt. He had shaggy black hair and sharp green eyes and he was scrutinizing her closely. Bethany took a deep breath.
“Is this some kind of — re-enactment thing, or something?”
“So it’s true,” the man breathed, his voice lilting with that rather pleasant Scottish accent. “The curse may be lifted, but they’re still coming back to us.”
“Listen, I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing here,” Bethany said testily, “but I’m on important business. Please tell me where I am so I can get back to my work and leave you all to… whatever this is.”
“You sound just like my wife,” the man said, an unexpected smile crinkling his face. “You look a little like her, too.”
“All due respect,” Bethany said through gritted teeth, her temper flaring, “I don’t care. I’m trying to find my sister Delilah, and at the moment, you’re all in the way of that. So whatever renaissance fair nonsense this is, give me a break, okay?”
“Go and get Delilah,” the man said to the maid in a low voice. “She’ll be reading in our quarters this time of day.”
Suspicion flared in Bethany’s mind. “Delilah? Delilah Cortland?”
“Aye, that’s her,” the man said, a look of curiosity in his green eyes. “Though it’s Cortland-MacClaran, these days.”
“That’s my sister. You’re telling me she’s here? She went missing a week ago,” Bethany said sharply, suspicion rising as she stared at this man. Was he keeping her sister prisoner in some kind of … medieval roleplaying situation? “She hasn’t contacted her family or friends — everyone’s incredibly worried about her. If you’ve been keeping her against her will —”
“Not exactly,” the man said, raising his hands. “The situation’s a lot more complicated than you’re giving it credit for, I’m afraid. What did you say your name was?”
“Bethany.”
“Bethany. I’m Gavin MacClaran, of Clan MacClaran.”
“Like the castle. Right.” She gritted her teeth. She’d known a few of these medieval re-enactment guys — her sister had been into this kind of thing for a while, but she’d never thought she’d have to deal with them in such a stressful situation. “Listen, this is a serious situation. Our mother’s booked flights over to find Delilah. Everyone’s incredibly worried. So —”
“Bethany, you’re not in your own time anymore,” Gavin said, cutting her off in a way that made her bristle. “If you’re truly my wife’s sister, then you’re several hundred years in the past. I know that will take some getting used to, and you won’t believe me right away, but it’s the truth.”
She stared at him, her eyes narrowed. “I’ve travelled in time.”
“Aye, that’s the way of it. It’s to do with a curse laid by a witch.” He shrugged, looking a little sheepish. “Like I said — all very complicated.”
Bethany rolled her eyes, impatience flaring in her chest. She didn’t have time for this medieval fantasy nonsense — not when there was a chance that her sister was here, possibly being held against her will, possibly hurt or scared or trapped in some way. This man was between her and her sister… and she was acutely aware of the loaded gun sitting on her hip. If she needed to, she’d rely on firepower to get to Delilah. But she’d exhaust her other options first. But before she could start formulating a plan of attack, an all-too-familiar voice split through the taut silence in the room.
“Bethany?”
Gavin was knocked aside by the force of the woman exploding through the doorway. Bethany’s eyes widened in shock and delight — and then her sister was almost on top of her, pulling her into a bone-crushingly tight hug, laughing and crying with her face buried in her shoulder. Bethany held her close, relieved to see her alive and well — though she was a little worried about the force of her emotional response. How long had they been keeping her here? Had she been held against her will? Had they hurt her in some way? She was reacting as though she hadn’t seen her sister for years.
“Delilah! Are you okay?” She grabbed her by the shoulders, holding her at arm’s length as she stared into her face, searching for any signs of injury. She looked well enough — a lot healthier than the last time they’d seen each other, actually. Back then, she’d been exhausted as a result of a series of all-nighters to get grants written and marking done — she had a full teaching load as well as her own projects to be getting on with. The life of an academic was all work, no play, from what Bethany could figure. It seemed exhausting. But this wasn’t the face of an exhausted woman. She looked paler than she had, too, as though she hadn’t been in the Californian sun for months.
“I’m fine! Are you okay? You look a bit —”
“I passed out in the ruins of that old castle you were studying,” Bethany said rapidly, aware that she must look a little the worse for wear. It would make sense — she wasn’t feeling great, either, and a big part of her was crying out to lie back down in the bed. But she couldn’t do that — not until she’d figured out what the hell was going on. Delilah was here, safe, well and healthy — wearing a long, medieval-style dress. What was that about? Much further down the list of questions that took priority for now, Bethany decided. “What happened? We haven’t heard from you for a week — Dad actually called me, Mom’s on a plane over here —”
“A week?” Delilah shot a look at the man who’d introduced himself as Gavin, her eyes wide. “I’ve only been gone for a week.”
“Only?” Bethany frowned, her hand going to her gun. “Delilah — what’s going on here? Who is this guy? Have they been holding you against your will? Why didn’t you call us? The last anyone heard from you, you were leaving the bed and breakfast and visiting the ruins for a bit —”
“God, I remember. It was so long ago. Bethany — god, I don’t even
know where to start with you. It’s so good to see you,” she said breathlessly, and there were tears of joy standing in her eyes.
Bethany hesitated. Something very strange was going on here… and the more she thought about it, the more it was clear that she didn’t have all the answers. Best to go into fact-finding mode, at least for a little while. At least until she could figure out if there was an enemy here who needed to be dealt with.
“What’s going on?” she asked simply, squeezing Delilah’s shoulders. “I’m glad you’re safe, but… I have no idea what’s happening. Fill me in.”
“I will,” Delilah promised, taking her hands in hers and squeezing them comfortingly. “I think we’d better sit down. Gavin — can you leave us to talk?”
“Of course,” the huge man said. And then, to Bethany’s shock, he crossed to give Delilah a peck on the cheek. “You call if you need me.”
He closed the door behind him, and Bethany turned to Delilah, pulling her away from the door. “Okay. Talk. Who’s that? What’s happening?”
“That’s Gavin MacClaran,” Delilah said, taking a deep breath. “Come on. Sit down with me. You’re in uniform,” she said, tilting her head to the side as she took in Bethany’s appearance. “Were you on duty?”
“Kind of,” Bethany said, her mind still on the mysterious Gavin and his relationship to her big sister. “I took leave when I found out you were missing. I was in France,” she added, figuring that releasing classified information was going to be the least of her problems when the military police caught up to her. All of those worries seemed very far away now that she finally had Delilah right there in front of her. “War games. Nothing important. Now, who the hell was that guy?” Her kidnapper? Her rescuer?
“Bethany…” Delilah hesitated. “He’s my husband.”
Chapter 4
Bethany stared at Delilah, completely lost for words as her mind raced to catch up with this piece of information. Was she joking — trying to mess with her? No, her voice was too serious, and the look on her face told her that she wasn’t joking. Her husband? Had she joined some kind of cult? She’d been gone for six days… had she met this man and had some kind of whirlwind romance, and gotten hitched in whatever the Scottish equivalent of a Vegas casino chapel was? That was so deeply unlike Delilah that Bethany couldn’t help but dismiss the possibility… unless she’d been coerced in some way. Six days wasn’t a lot of time to brainwash someone, but she supposed it could have happened, perhaps with the assistance of drugs or alcohol… or force. She scrutinized Delilah, looking for signs of trauma… but she had to admit, the woman looked as happy and healthy as anything.
Which was more than Bethany could say for herself. She could feel her head pounding, her heart beating stickily in her chest… there was something seriously wrong with her, symptoms she’d been trying to suppress finally fighting their way to the surface. Breathing hard, she reached out to steady herself on a chair, and Delilah made a worried sound in her throat, helping her to take a seat on one of the wooden chairs that was set by the table. She took a seat opposite her, stroking her shoulder as Bethany tried to catch her breath.
“Not sure what’s wrong with me,” she muttered, willing the vertigo to go away. “Vertigo, or something… motion sickness? I don’t know —”
“I know,” Delilah said softly. “It’s the travel. I felt the same way when I got here.”
“I don’t get motion sickness,” Bethany said irritably, fighting down the symptoms again. Delilah was pouring her a glass of water from a tall jug that had been standing on the table, and she regarded it suspiciously. “I’m not drinking that. And you shouldn’t either,” she added as Delilah poured a second glass.
“What, do you think they’re drugging me?”
“You just told me you were married to that guy,” she said levelly, trying not to sound angry — if Delilah really had been drawn into a cult, the last thing she wanted to do was alienate her or make her feel unsafe around her. This might be her only chance to get her free. “It’s been six days, Delilah. You’re telling me that’s rational?”
“It hasn’t been six days for me,” Delilah said softly. “I promise you — the water’s not drugged. And you could use the hydration.”
“What do you mean, it hasn’t been six days for you? Have you known him for a while? You never mentioned anyone called Gavin.” She felt oddly betrayed by the idea that her sister might have been seeing someone without telling her. “I thought we told each other everything.”
“We do! It’s just…” Delilah took a deep breath. “This is going to be hard to believe, but I want you to trust me, okay? Remember I’m your sister and just… give me the benefit of the doubt when you think I sound insane. Can you do that for me?”
Bethany hesitated… but she wanted to know what was going on, and she wanted Delilah to trust her. So she nodded.
“Okay. So — when I went to the castle ruins, I fell asleep, too, or I hit my head or something. Anyway — whatever it was that happened, I woke up here, in the same castle. This is Castle MacClaran — but like it was when it was new. We’re in the fifteenth century, Bethany. Same place — totally different time.”
Bethany took a deep breath… then remembered what she’d said about giving Delilah the benefit of the doubt. So she just nodded, letting the doubtful expression on her face make it clear how she felt about the story. But it seemed good enough for Delilah, who continued.
“I didn’t believe it at first either. I thought it was completely insane — or I was insane, or I’d been hit on the head and was hallucinating, yada, yada… but it’s real, Bethany. We’re actually here. And not only is it real... magic’s real, too. That’s how I got here. It turns out that my great-great-great whatever grandmother was a witch. She fell in love with Gavin —”
“Your husband?” Bethany interrupted sourly.
Delilah gave her a sharp look. “Yes. But they weren’t allowed to be together. So she placed a kind of warning curse on the castle, saying that while she and Gavin weren’t allowed to be together, any MacClaran man who fell in love with a woman would see that woman claimed by some kind of horrible fate.”
“That’s pretty sexist,” Bethany pointed out, narrowing her eyes. “Why should the women suffer because of what the men did?”
“Well, she didn’t intend to leave the curse standing,” Delilah explained, her eyes aglow.
She really believes what she’s saying, Bethany thought faintly — she’d studied enough about body language and lying to know when someone was speaking honestly. What she was saying was completely insane, of course… but she believed it to be one hundred percent true. And that was a little frightening, if Bethany was honest. What had they done to her big sister to make her believe this completely insane story so quickly?
“She was just trying to force their hand, to let her be with her husband. But before she could lift the curse, she was killed. With her dying breath, she tried to reverse it, but she didn’t get the words out all the way… instead, she said something about the dead women returning to their loves somehow. Does that make sense?”
“No,” Bethany said honestly. “But magic’s not real, so it kind of doesn’t have to.” She raised her hands at the expression on Delilah’s face. “I know, I know, I promised you the benefit of the doubt, but… seriously, Delilah? Magic? Witches? I know you study this stuff, but I thought you studied it as … stories, not facts.”
“I did. I do. It’s fact,” Delilah said through gritted teeth. They had a similar temper.
Bethany relented. “Okay. Sorry. Keep going.”
“Anyway, the way the curse works is this: the men of this clan fall in love with women. They die. Then, one of their descendants gets pulled back through time from the future to take their place.”
“Their descendants? So they have kids before they’re killed?”
“Not exactly. See, they’re replaced by one of their descendants… who by all accounts look just like the dead women. So
my ancestor… she looked just like me. I came back, I broke the curse, and now the MacClaran men are free to fall in love with women without them dying horribly.”
“It’s been a busy six days then,” Bethany said drily. Delilah hesitated. “What?”
“It’s been more than six days for me,” Delilah said softly. “It’s actually been about a year and a half.”
“Oh, right. Time travel. Of course.”
“You don’t have to believe me right away,” Delilah said irritably. “But you will, soon enough, when you figure out where you are. When you are. Occam’s Razor, Beth.”
“Once you’ve eradicated the likely possibilities, whatever remains, however unlikely, must be the truth?”
“Exactly. Soon you’ll eradicate the possibility that this is a LARP, that I’m in a cult, that only six days have passed, that we’re still in the twenty-first century…” Delilah shrugged. “Then you’ll accept that magic’s real and a curse brought you here.”
“I thought you broke the curse.”
“I did. No more women are dying. That doesn’t mean that there aren’t still women who are destined to be brought back through time to replace women who died before I broke the curse.”
Bethany’s head was spinning. This felt like trying to follow the plot of one of their brother’s favorite fantasy novels. Of all the things she’d been expecting from her search for her sister, this hadn’t been high on her list of possible outcomes. “So I’ve been brought back through time to replace some poor dead woman, that’s what you’re telling me?”
“I guess so.”
“Because some Scottish guy fell in love with her. Well, where is he?”
“I don’t know,” Delilah said brightly. “I’ve got to ask around, I guess. But in the meantime… don’t you want to meet your niece?”
“My what?” Bethany stared at her. “Don’t be stupid.”
Highlander Avenged: A Scottish Time Travel Romance Page 3