Highlander Avenged: A Scottish Time Travel Romance

by Preston, Rebecca

  She supposed she was about to find out. She bit her lip, watching as Baldric hurried out into the hallway, listening to their voices. Graham’s face was drawn and hard to read… was he going to betray her? Or had some of what she’d told him about what the MacClarans were actually like sunk in? Perhaps hearing it from her — as well as what Baldric and Weatherby had said about Brother Willows taking them prisoner — could help start to change Graham’s mind about the company he was keeping, the cause he’d apparently sworn his life to… but she wasn’t convinced that he was there yet. Not looking at his face now, drawn and haggard.

  But god, a part of her so desperately wanted him to change his mind… to come with her to the castle, to meet her sister and the other women, to learn how wrong he had been about the so-called MacClaran ‘witches’. The revelation that Brother Willows had been a torturer and a murderer might be enough to change his mind… but she wasn’t sure. She couldn’t know, not yet.

  The door swung open, and Baldric escorted a handful of men into the room. Sure enough, there was Matthew, looking furious — Sven and Adolf were with him, too. When they saw Graham, they shouted in relief. Adolf bolted across the room to embrace his friend, laughing heartily and clapping him hard on the back. Matthew and Sven were more reserved, giving him cool nods as they turned to greet Lord Weatherby.

  “Quite a reunion I’m presiding over,” Lord Weatherby said, quirking an eyebrow at them. “I’m so interested to learn what exactly has been happening on my lands that’s led to all this excitement.” It was a comment with a sting in the tail.

  “Lord Weatherby, it’s an honor,” Matthew said smoothly, stepping forward to sketch a neat, courtly little bow that clearly pleased Lord Weatherby… and impressed Bethany, from where she was watching from the kitchen through the crack in the door. The surly, violent man she’d met the night before was gone, eclipsed by this stranger who was very competent with the airs and graces of high society… even his voice sounded different. She remembered that Graham had told her he had been a knight… that must have been where he’d learned all of this etiquette. She hoped it wouldn’t win Lord Weatherby over too much.

  But not everyone in the room was impressed — she saw Baldric turn away under the guise of a cough and caught a distinct eye-roll from him. That warmed her heart. It felt like she had something of an ally in Baldric… someone who saw through the pontifications of the lord and these men.

  “Sir Matthew Willows, at your service,” Matthew continued, puffing out his chest.

  “Sir, is it?” Baldric broke in, quirking an eyebrow. “Forgive me, but the only Sir Willows I’m aware of lost his knighthood after a rather unfortunate —”

  “Oh, yes, very unfortunate, but I’d —”

  “— incident,” Baldric continued, raising his voice over Matthew’s attempt to speak over him. Bethany suppressed a giggle in the kitchen. “An incident in which said Brother Willows attempted to force himself on his liege Lord’s daughter. There were calls for his execution, as I remember it, so badly traumatized was the poor girl — only seventeen at the time and betrothed to another to boot. Any relation of yours?”

  Matthew was bristling. Clearly, he’d not expected Baldric to know the full story of his exile… Lord Weatherby looked horrified to have heard all the details. So did Graham, to Bethany’s surprise — he was staring at his lord like he’d never seen him before, his jaw tensing as he worked through what he’d apparently just learned. Had he really not known what crime had gotten Matthew expelled from his knighthood? Bethany hadn’t known either, but given what she knew of the man, she wasn’t surprised at all he’d attempted to assault an innocent woman. He certainly seemed to treat women as objects. Interesting that Cristabella wasn’t here… it was pretty clear how he thought of her. A useful weapon, perhaps, but not a true partner in his work, revolting as that work was. Bethany felt an unexpected pang of sympathy for the other woman.

  “Yes, well, that is the version of the story some people tell,” Matthew said stiffly. “I’ve long learned to focus on my own work, and not listen to the lies and blasphemy told by those who don’t support my noble cause.”

  Sven cleared his throat, stepping in. “Sir Matthew was investigating the young woman for witchcraft,” he explained, and Bethany could tell from his voice that it was a lie. “When she sensed she was in trouble for her blasphemous deeds, she falsely accused the honorable knight of attempting to deflower her… having her father wrapped around her little finger, as girls like that often do, she was able to manipulate him into expelling his most honorable servant —”

  “Well, all that may well be,” Lord Weatherby said, impatience in his voice, “but you haven’t explained what you’re doing on my doorstep.”

  “We were in search of our man,” Matthew said, gesturing to Graham.

  He looked furious, Bethany thought with some amusement, feeling a warm burst of gratitude to Baldric for delivering such a discrediting piece of information — and with such exquisite timing.

  “Graham was taken prisoner by a malicious witch late last night… she used a terrifying weapon, powered by her eldritch connection with Satan himself, to take him hostage. Lord only knows how she treated him,” he said, giving Graham a sympathetic look. “Are you well, brother?”

  “I’m fine,” Graham said stiffly. Bethany held her breath, wondering if he was going to give her away. Would he reveal that she was here? What would happen? Would Matthew demand her back as a prisoner — and would Lord Weatherby surrender her? She could feel her heart pounding in her chest as she watched Graham’s face as closely as she could through the door… but he clearly didn’t know what he was going to say, either. His mind was clearly racing, his blue eyes flickering as he thought.

  “Did she perform unspeakable acts of witchcraft upon you?” Sven broke in, taking a few steps forward. She saw Adolf suppress a chuckle and rolled her eyes. What did these men think ‘witchcraft’ even looked like? What kind of spells did they think she’d have cast on Graham?

  “No,” Graham said hesitantly. “No, she just… forced me to come with her.”

  “And then what? Did you escape from her? Did you slay the witch, slice off her head with her own weapon?” Matthew’s eyes were fixed on Graham, an ugly look on his face as he gave voice to his clear bloodlust.

  Bethany felt a little sick just looking at him. Was this really the man Graham wanted to serve, she wondered? To her surprise, he seemed to be wondering that himself… she saw him turn away from Matthew with a thinly veiled expression of disgust.

  “No,” he said flatly. “I escaped, then I came here to ask Lord Weatherby for shelter until I could make my way back to our camp. That’s all.”

  “And where’s the witch now?” Matthew demanded, clearly disappointed that Bethany had slipped through their clutches. “In the woods, still?”

  “I’d imagine she’s gone back to the castle.” Graham shrugged. His eyes flicked toward the kitchen door — could he see her, peering through the crack? Probably not… but she mouthed a ‘thank you’ to him regardless, just in case.

  Lord Weatherby was clearly delighted by the intrigue, but to her relief, he didn’t seem about to say anything about her presence there. Baldric cleared his throat, stepping forward to interject in the conversation.

  “Any business you may have with the MacClarans will have to be taken up with them,” he said sternly. “Lord Weatherby is the rightful owner of these lands, however —”

  “Of course,” Matthew said smoothly, clearly trying hard to regain his status in the room. “Lord Weatherby, we are camped south of your village — we only arrived last night, and were intending to send word to you to ask for permission to camp on your lands for a short time…”

  That was a lie, Bethany knew, gritting her teeth in the gloom of the kitchen… the mercenaries had arrived several days ago, and it was clear as day to her that they’d had no intention of sending word to Weatherby at all that they were camped out on his lands. But she co
uldn’t exactly burst out of the kitchen to accuse him of lying, could she? Not when Graham had so graciously covered for her… she felt a sudden burst of hope that he might have seen through Matthew’s thin veneer of respectability to the monster that lay beneath. Perhaps he’d actually come to the castle with her voluntarily, meet her friends, change his mind…

  Sure, Bethany, she scolded herself. And maybe you’ll get married on a hillside by a lake while the angels sing, and you’ll ride off together on a unicorn. Why did she feel so strongly about this man? What had possessed her that she’d made love to him so passionately the night before — why did those feelings seem to be hanging around still, despite the danger he and his companions posed to her, her sister, the people who’d taken her in and protected her?

  Graham is the enemy until he decides otherwise, she told herself sharply, trying to shake off the soft feelings she had for him.

  “Do what you like.” Weatherby shrugged, clearly tiring of this particular audience now that the intriguing part had ended. “Camp by the village if you please, it’s no skin off my nose so long as you don’t bother me or my men.”

  “Sir —” Baldric broke in, clearly shocked by Weatherby’s callousness, but the Lord was already getting to his feet, clearly finished with this particular audience. “What size is your army?” Baldric asked of Matthew.

  “Only a few dozen men — a few dozen more will be joining us soon,” Matthew said smoothly, but Bethany’s eyes were on Sven, who hid a smile as his lord spoke. An understatement, then — a significant understatement. Hundreds of men, then? Could the castle withstand such a siege? She knew she had to get back there, and fast… the more warning they had, the better prepared they’d be to withstand a siege. And it seemed like there was no help coming from Lord Weatherby, for all that Baldric seemed shocked at the prospect of letting a war wage on their lands.

  “And what exactly is it that you want from the MacClarans? We hope you intend to avoid bloodshed,” Baldric said, raising an eyebrow.

  But Lord Weatherby was already on the way out of the room, and it was clear that the audience was over. The men ignored Baldric’s questions — he ground his teeth as he moved to show them to the door. Bethany’s eyes moved to Graham.

  “Well, Graham,” Baldric said, for all the world as if he had read her mind. “Will you be riding off with your fellows, or remaining with us?” His eyes flicked just briefly toward the kitchen. “As I said, you’re more than welcome to stay to… recover, from your capture.”

  He couldn’t have been more clear — he was offering Graham the chance to stay back and join up with Bethany, to come with her to the castle. Bethany stared at his face — it was clear just from looking at him how torn he was. But Baldric’s gambit had paid off — Sven, Adolf and Matthew were talking amongst themselves, clearly not aware that anything out of the ordinary was going on, that their comrade-in-arms was wrestling with a decision that might lead him out of their company for good. Bethany bit her lip, hoping against hope that Graham would make the right call… she so desperately wanted to redeem him from this company of witch hunters, this assortment of men who were about to ride with violent intentions against her friends. She didn’t want them to be on two different sides of a battlefield…

  But her heart sank to her feet as Graham, keeping his eyes deliberately averted from the kitchen door, shook his head.

  “No, Sir Baldric. Thank you… but I must remain where I belong.”

  Chapter 19

  Bethany turned away from the door, her heart pounding with grief at what felt, bizarrely, like the harshest betrayal she’d ever experienced. To her shock, tears had sprung to her eyes… she dashed them away, baffled by the strength of her response to Graham’s decision. In the other room, she could hear Baldric engaging in pleasantries as he guided the four men out of the room, presumably to send them on their way, back to the mercenary camp to continue scheming against the MacClarans… but she couldn’t make out what they were saying, and she didn’t care. Graham had left her. He’d had every chance to choose to stay with her, to find out the truth about the so-called ‘witches’ he was hunting… but instead, he’d turned against her. He’d decided to stay with Matthew.

  Am I really surprised? she asked herself furiously. He’d been Matthew’s sworn man for God knew how many years. Had she seriously expected him to change his mind about everything he believed, just because he’d met her? Just because he’d made love to her, in the wind and the rain, the storm crashing around them? She was being ridiculous. Why did it feel like such a betrayal?

  She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself, trying to shut Graham out of her thoughts as completely as she could. She was in a good position now — the best position she’d been in since last night, in fact. She’d gotten out of the mercenary camp unharmed, she was full to the brim with information about the attackers, and she’d eluded her captor. She had an ally in Lord Weatherby — or at least, in his man Baldric — and with any luck she’d be back at the castle before nightfall, ready to share everything she’d learned. She even had her phone and her gun on her. Sure, the phone’s battery would be dead by dusk, and she was down one of her six bullets… but overall, things could have gone a lot worse than they had.

  So why was she feeling like she’d lost everything?

  Baldric came to join her in the kitchen after a few minutes, looking a little concerned as he pulled the door open. By that time, she’d managed to get ahold of herself, and she held her chin up as he looked at her.

  “Well, that was all very exciting,” he said wryly, raising an eyebrow. “Very cloak and dagger.”

  “Thank you for hiding me,” she said honestly, giving him a smile. “You and Lord Weatherby. You may well have saved my life.”

  Baldric smiled, shrugging his broad shoulders. “Well, we owe a great debt to your sister. She certainly saved us from a rather unpleasant fate at the hands of those witch hunters… admittedly, said witch hunters were drawn in by her and the other MacClaran women, but still.”

  “What happened?” Bethany wanted to know, frowning. “Delilah told me so little about it… what exactly went on?”

  “Only Delilah knows the details.” Baldric shrugged. “All I know is, they broke in here under cover of darkness and overpowered Weatherby and myself. Sent Delilah a bogus letter inviting her to stay here, lured her in and tried to take her prisoner, too. Something about her being a witch, I don’t know. At any rate, she helped me break free and we were able to take the manor back. She’s very good with a sword, your sister. Weatherby had nothing to do with any of it. He hid in his quarters the whole time,” he added flatly, and Bethany couldn’t help but giggle.

  “She’s an impressive woman, my sister.”

  “Seems to run in the family,” Baldric observed, raising an eyebrow. “You truly broke out of a mercenary camp all by yourself?”

  “I mean, I’m armed,” she shrugged, wondering whether she should show Baldric the gun. She didn’t have a lot of ammunition to spare, and besides, she was a little worried about causing some kind of problem by showing something that hadn’t been invented yet to the locals. Thankfully, Baldric was more interested in the details of her daring escape.

  “Fascinating. And you took that young man captive? He didn’t look especially captive,” he added, raising an eyebrow. “I rather thought you might be together.”

  “No,” she said, a little too quickly, and grimaced at the flash of amusement in his eyes. “No, he was a prisoner, that was all. And now he’s gone back to his mercenaries. Good riddance.”

  “Speaking of going back… you’re most welcome to stay with us, of course, but I imagine you’ve got some news to convey to the MacClarans. Would you like to borrow a horse to ride back?”

  “That would be amazing,” she said, fiercely grateful to Baldric. “The MacClarans don’t know about the mercenaries camped out on their doorstep…”

  “Yes, I thought they mightn’t,” Baldric frowned. “I’m a little
dismayed by Lord Weatherby’s unwillingness to take a side, there. The MacClarans have done us a lot of favors over the years — it’s downright ungracious to simply handwave an invading force like that.”

  “It is!” Bethany wanted to shake him. “You should do something —”

  “I have no power, Lady Cortland,” the man said gently, tilting his head a little. “Surely you understand that? I’m his second. Sure, I can steer him gently one way or the other, but I’ve no power to force him to intervene where he doesn’t want to.”

  “But — they want to kill all the MacClaran women,” Bethany said through gritted teeth. “Women who’ve done nothing wrong. Innocents, all of them. You’d stand idly by and let that happen?”

  “I think the MacClarans can handle themselves,” Baldric pointed out, a warning look on his face. “They’ve dealt with worse than a few bands of mercenaries in their time. This isn’t the Inquisition — this is just some rabble of men with a point to prove. The men of the Keep will turn them back easily. You may not know this, coming from wherever it is that you come from, but a castle is a surprisingly difficult thing to capture.”

  She knew that, of course she knew that… but she realized with a guilty start that it wasn’t really the MacClarans she was worried about. As Baldric had said, they’d be safe and sound in their castle for even a protracted siege… she didn’t doubt they knew how to handle themselves. No, the person she was worried about, to her disgust, was Graham. Even though he’d abandoned her, she couldn’t bear the thought of him getting hurt — or worse — in the attempt to take the castle. He was a good man… he was just in the wrong place, at the wrong time. But how could she make the MacClarans see that? How could she make the MacClarans take him in and forgive his allegiance to the witch hunters when he wasn’t even willing to leave them behind, even after all he’d learned about them?