“Safe?” That was interesting. “There’s threats to the people here, because of the witch stuff?”
“Sometimes,” Delilah said, an evasive look on her face. “I mean, the MacClaran s have a pretty fearsome reputation as warriors, so nobody’s attacked the place lately or anything, but Gavin’s always vigilant. There have been attacks… mercenaries, witch hunters, that kind of thing.”
Bethany heaved a sigh. “Fine. If it’s a matter of national security, I can wear a dress.” She pulled her shirt over her head, wrinkling her nose at the smell — probably a good idea to get changed before she met any new people, actually. “But,” she added, pulling her gun out of its holster, “this is staying on me.”
Delilah gasped, her eyes as big as plates. “Bethany!”
“What? You’ve seen my pistol before,” she said, frowning as she held the gun out for Delilah to inspect. “You’ve shot one like it, too.”
“Bethany, it’s the middle of the fifteenth century.”
“Oh, shit,” Bethany said blankly, staring down at the gun in her hand. She hadn’t even made that connection — it hadn’t occurred to her that she was now in possession of perhaps the deadliest weapon in the world. “I’m the only woman on earth with a gun.” Something occurred to her, and she sighed. “Better be careful with my bullets, huh? Unless I can reverse engineer gunpowder and bullet casings…”
“I mean, it’s good to have a project,” Delilah said faintly. “I can introduce you to the village smith later if you like. But for now… maybe don’t show anyone, yeah? And don’t shoot it unless you absolutely have to.”
“I’d never discharge my firearm unless I absolutely had to,” Bethany said, giving Delilah a sharp look. “I’m a soldier, not a cop. We take guns seriously.”
Before long, she was out of her uniform and feeling distinctly less like herself in a long cotton gown, dyed a pleasant green that set off her light brown eyes nicely — at least, Delilah said so. She insisted on keeping her boots on, though. Army boots may not have been the height of medieval fashion, but she wasn’t relinquishing them for love nor money.
So they set off, two sisters exploring a medieval castle together. The first stop, Delilah told her happily, was the roof. There were quite a few flights of stairs between them and the castle ramparts, but the climb was worth it, she was assured. Bethany just shrugged. After getting up at the crack of dawn for months on end to do grueling obstacle courses in the mud and rain, a few flights of stairs were barely worth remarking on.
It must have been around ten in the morning when they emerged, blinking, into the weak sunlight. And Bethany took a deep breath, staring around at the country that was to be her new home.
Chapter 6
“Holy shit, Delilah,” Bethany breathed, gazing around at the view. “This is… this is…”
They were standing on the highest part of the castle, having climbed up a ladder that opened onto the stony area. There were low walls around the roof, and Bethany walked over to one, the wind whipping her short hair behind her. This was a lot more than she’d bargained for climbing all those steps… the castle was huge, looming over the surrounding territory. She’d realized the day before that the castle had been built on top of the tallest hill in the surrounding area — that made good tactical sense, after all, making your enemies come uphill if they wanted to tangle with you, as well as giving you a good view that would allow you to see them coming from miles away. And god, it was an incredible view. She could see the road she’d followed up the hill from the village the day before (and hundreds of years in the future… what a disorienting thought.) Sure enough, it wound down the hill to the village, which seemed a little smaller than the one she remembered driving through, with thatched roofs instead of tiled ones and horses drawing wagons on the road instead of cars. The road continued past the castle in the opposite direction, too, swallowed by a thick forest of trees that stretched off into the distance. And on the other horizon… Bethany beamed. The famous moors of the Scottish Highlands, complete with a dull glow of purple from the heather that covered the rolling hills.
She could have stared out at the countryside for hours. But they weren’t alone. There was a huge figure over on one side of the roof, gazing out over the countryside — Bethany had seen him when they’d emerged from the trapdoor that lead up onto the hill, but had largely ignored him, far more interested in the landscape around them. But he’d turned, and she realized with a start that he was wearing the same outfit as Delilah’s husband Gavin had been — including tartan of the same pattern. Interesting. She remembered reading something about tartan being a family crest of some sort or functioning that way at least. Did that mean that this man was a MacClaran, too? Or did all the guards wear the same kilts?
“I’d heard we had a new lost lamb,” the man rumbled, his voice low and deep. He was built like a bear, this man… even taller than Gavin, with dark, wavy hair and a thick beard shot through with gray. He must have been in his fifties, but there was a sense of power and vitality in him that told Bethany’s soldier instincts that this was a man to be reckoned with. Not someone she was interested in making an enemy of, that was for sure.
“She’s not lost, Eamon,” Delilah said, grinning as she slipped her hand into Bethany’s. “She’s my sister.”
The man’s dark eyes widened. “Sister? That’s a new one. Did you bring her back on purpose, then?”
Delilah laughed. “No! I don’t know what brought her back, actually. But I’m thrilled to have her here.”
Bethany shot Delilah a glance. What did she mean — what brought her back? Was this something to do with the curse? She wished she’d paid a little more attention to Delilah’s explanation of the arcane forces that had brought her here… but in her defense, she’d been a little distracted at the time with coming to terms with the existence of magic and time travel in the first place. A part of her was still screaming in denial — thankfully, her training was allowing her to subdue that part in the interests of getting by. She’d do some denial-screaming later, if she had to… bury her face in a pillow and really let loose. For now, it was more important to learn her way around this place. And that meant meeting the locals.
She took a few steps forward, extending her hand to this bearlike man to shake. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Bethany Cortland.”
“Eamon MacClaran,” the man replied, taking her hand in a powerful grip. His hands were covered in callouses, rough but surprisingly gentle. “I’m Captain of the Guard here.”
“Eamon’s wife is one of us,” Delilah told Bethany. “One of the … well, Audrina calls us the time-lost women, but that’s always been a bit dramatic for my taste.”
“I think of you as stray cats, myself,” Eamon said, his eyes twinkling with amusement. There was something very likable about this huge man.
“Captain of the Guard, huh? Do you need extra men?”
“Looking for a job already?”
“I like to keep busy.”
“Bethany’s a soldier,” Delilah said.
“I mean, I’m an intelligence analyst, but… close enough.” She shrugged. “I mean… I was when I left. But I may be on trial for desertion when I get back. If I get back. Wait.” She looked sideways at Delilah. “I’m not going back. That means they can’t arrest me.”
“Seems that way,” Delilah said dryly.
“There are some benefits to being stranded in the past, I guess,” Bethany said thoughtfully. “Well, Eamon? What do you say?”
“How are you with a bow?”
“Ah. That wasn’t covered in basic training, I’m afraid.” She shrugged. “I could learn.”
“Do that.” Eamon smiled, his eyes twinkling. “You’ll need some time to settle in regardless. You learn to shoot, I’ll see if I’ve a place for you on the wall.”
“Let’s keep going,” Delilah encouraged her. “I want to show you the courtyard before lunch.”
“Show her the archery range!” Eamon called after the
m.
Bethany chuckled as they headed down the ladder. But something was worrying her.
“Are they… okay, about women?” she asked Delilah in an undertone as they headed down the hallway toward the staircases that would lead them down to the courtyard. “I mean, weren’t medieval times very… men die in battle, women die in childbirth or the kitchen?”
“It’s a lot more complicated than that, actually,” Delilah said. “I don’t want to get into a medieval scholar rant or anything, but the role of women has always been very complicated and ever-changing. It depends where you are — what country, even what city sometimes — what year it is, what kind of rights you’re thinking about —”
“Okay, well, let’s not do a history lesson,” Bethany warned her, hearing a rant building. “Here and now — what kind of terrible misogyny can I expect? Better or worse than the Army?” She’d had her fair share of unpleasant treatment as a woman — especially a woman who was trying to build a career in a traditionally male-dominated part of the Army.
“Uh, depends what part. For the most part, Castle MacClaran is very forward-thinking — mostly as a result of all the modern women living here.” Delilah laughed. “Fiona won’t let Laird Donal stand for any kind of gender discrimination, Cora makes sure women are well looked after when they give birth and even teaches them about birth control, Audrina’s been teaching women what she can about modern healthcare…”
“Which is why everyone thinks the castle’s harboring witches,” Bethany pointed out as they reached the bottom of the stairs.
Delilah grinned. “Yeah. Never mind the actual magic that my daughter can do… it’s mostly the mundane stuff that’s got people worried. But don’t worry too much about that, okay? It’s been quiet for months now — no mercenaries, no witch hunters, nothing to worry about. Just focus on learning your way around, okay? This is the entry hall.”
They’d reached the bottom of the stairs, finding themselves in a huge hall with an enormous pair of wooden doors at one end, slightly ajar with sunlight spilling across the floor from outside. There were a number of doors set in the wall, a few low wooden benches around the outside of it… and a surprising number of people hurrying back and forth, too. Men coming in from outside with armor like the kind Gavin and Eamon had been wearing, a number of servants in the same white aprons that the women who’d found Bethany had been wearing —
“How many people live in this castle?” Bethany asked.
“A few hundred. It’s like a little town all on its own,” Delilah said, smiling. “C’mon — I’ll show you the dining hall, then we’ll head outside.”
Two double doors in the west wall led through to another huge hall. This one looked like something straight out of a medieval fantasy show — the floor was covered in rushes, and the walls were decorated with torches in brackets. The hall was full of huge wooden tables with wooden pews at them, each clearly capable of seating a dozen men on each side. At one end of the hall was a raised platform with another table on it — clearly designed for whoever was in charge of the place to sit. Sure enough, Delilah pointed it out to her.
“That’s the Laird’s table — that’s where Donal and his advisors sit, mostly.”
“Donal’s in charge?”
“Aye,” came an amused voice from behind them.
Bethany spun, surprised by the sound. There stood a handsome young man with white-blond hair — he couldn’t have been much older than her, in his mid-twenties at the latest, but he carried himself with the easy confidence of a leader. He wore the same tartan as the other men had, as well as a sword at his belt and a brooch bearing a familiar sigil pinned to his chest. A sigil she’d seen on the walls of the castle — a coat of arms.
“Laird Donal,” Delilah said, surprise coloring her voice. “I didn’t know you were here.”
“The castle’s buzzing with news of a new visitor,” he said, his brown eyes fixed on Bethany. “I have to admit, I was curious.”
“Bethany Cortland,” Bethany introduced herself. It felt strange to say her full name — in the military, it was surname and rank only… but with her sister there, her surname might have been confusing, and she had a suspicion that her military rank wasn’t going to carry much weight in this place. Had the US Army even been started yet? Not in any form she’d recognize. Was there even a US yet? “Laird Donal, was it? Not Lord?”
“Lords are English,” Donal said with a roguish grin. “We don’t speak Gaelic anymore, but we’ll keep a few of our own words if it kills us.”
“Our country changed the spellings of a bunch of words just because we could.” Bethany shrugged. “If we can have American English, it seems only fair that you can be a Laird.”
“Bethany’s my sister,” Delilah put in brightly.
“Aye, is that so? Cortland. Of course. Fascinating,” Donal said thoughtfully, looking at her hard. “And do we know who…”
“Not yet,” Delilah said quickly. But Bethany wasn’t letting that one go.
“Do we know who what?”
“Oh, you haven’t told her?” Donal covered his mouth with his hand in mock dismay, his brown eyes twinkling with mirth.
“Told me what?”
“It’s — the time travel thing, that’s all,” Delilah said, sighing. “You’re going to think this is so stupid… okay. So, all of the women who’ve come back have been the lost loves of MacClaran men, right? So…”
Bethany’s eyes widened. “So some Scottish guy’s going to fall in love with me?” She turned around as though expecting to see a tartan-clad stranger lurking in the dining hall, waiting for her. It was an eerie suggestion. “Who?”
“That’s a good question, Delilah,” Donal said thoughtfully. “The majority of the MacClaran men are happily married… largely thanks to your ancestor’s little spell. Is it possible, Delilah, that Bethany has been brought back because of your connection to her?”
“It’s possible, I guess,” Delilah said doubtfully. “But surely not all the MacClarans are married. There are cousins and such in other places, right?”
A shadow passed across Donal’s face, very quickly — so quickly that Bethany was almost convinced she’d imagined it. “I’ll give it some thought.” He shrugged, but there was something evasive in his voice that made her very curious indeed about what exactly he was hiding there. “It’s lunch soon. Will you be joining us, Bethany?”
“If it’s no trouble,” she said, remembering her manners. Her mother would have been delighted with her. Wearing a dress, being polite… before long she’d be focusing on something that wasn’t her career. Her mother always had despaired at her career-obsessed little daughter — there were other things in life than work, she’d told her again and again. Well, she’d been right. There was work… and there was, it seemed, time travel.
God, was she ever going to get used to this?
“Bethany Cortland, you’re a guest of this castle for as long as you desire,” Donal said formally, looking at her seriously. “Castle MacClaran has a long history of taking in women who’ve been stranded in time, and it’s always brought us good things. A lot of chaos, too,” he added with a smile, “but we’re always better for your presence. I’m of the belief that you’re here for a reason, and I’m looking forward to finding out what that reason is.”
“Thank you,” Bethany said sincerely. “For welcoming me. I’ll find some way to repay your hospitality, I promise.”
He waved a hand. “Everyone finds a role here sooner or later. I’d ask you to join my table for lunch… but I have a suspicion the women will want you all to themselves for a little while first.”
Bethany glanced at Delilah, who was grinning.
“Oh, yes. They’re going to be thrilled. They all more or less tackled me when I first got here… it’s going to be fun not being the newest one anymore.”
Sure enough, the dining hall began to fill with people from the castle heading in for the midday meal… and before long, Bethany was surrounded by
women. It was oddly reassuring to be surrounded by people who spoke with her own American accent again.
First, she met Audrina and Cora, who came in arm in arm. They were both in their late forties, but where Audrina was a tall, slender woman with a grey-tinged red braid, Cora was shorter and curvier, with sleek dark hair, a pale complexion, and a pair of vivid dark eyes that seemed to dance with joy as she pulled Bethany into a very comfortable hug.
“How many of us does that make now, Audrina? Seven?”
“Something like that,” Audrina said gently, smiling as she reached out to touch Bethany’s shoulder. “It’s lovely to meet you, Bethany. You’re very welcome here.”
“Audrina and Cora were best friends back in the future,” Delilah explained. “So we’re not the only ones who have a connection outside of this place.”
Soon they were joined by Marianne and Fiona. Marianne was the same age as Audrina and Cora, a dark-eyed woman with a sharp face and keen eyes — Fiona was younger, perhaps in her late twenties, with blue eyes and a mane of red hair pinned up on top of her head.
“You met my husband earlier, I heard,” Marianne said, smiling.
“And mine, of course. Trust Donal to track you down. He always says he doesn’t listen to gossip — but how come he knows everything before I do? Welcome to Castle MacClaran, Bethany,” Fiona said, pulling her into a hug. “Can’t wait to hear all about how the future’s doing without us.”
She also met Karin, a shy-looking woman with a deceptively strong handshake.
They all took a table with Bethany at the head of it, and she found herself swamped with questions about the future — where she was from, what was happening, what the latest news was. She did her best to answer them — but she was more interested to hear about the women, about how they’d gotten here, how they’d settled in, what roles they’d found for themselves. But there was only so much that could be covered in one meal — and all of the women had duties to return to. Still, one thing was clear, Bethany thought as she and Delilah headed out of the hall after a satisfying lunch — she’d have no shortage of friends here.
Highlander Avenged: A Scottish Time Travel Romance Page 5