Highlander Avenged: A Scottish Time Travel Romance

by Preston, Rebecca

  “Let’s ride home,” Baldric said gently, reaching out to touch her shoulder in a reassuring kind of way. “I’ll escort you, just in case those mercenaries see fit to try something.”

  “Thank you,” she said, a little woodenly. So Lord Weatherby was just going to stand idly by while a war waged on his lands? “If you talk to Lord Weatherby about this again,” she said quickly, “it may be worth pointing out that it doesn’t look very good to having warring factions fighting each other on your land.”

  “I’ll point that out to him,” Baldric said with a shrug as they began walking through the hallways toward the front door of the manor. “But I certainly wouldn’t count on any assistance from this quarter if I were you.”

  The sun was high in the sky when they reached the steps, and Baldric led her across the courtyard after pulling a guard aside to enquire about the whereabouts of the most recent visitors. Sure enough, the guard confirmed that they’d all left shortly after they’d arrived, this time with Graham in tow, and had already headed back off toward the village near the Keep. Bethany, who’d been secretly hoping that Graham would have a last-minute change of heart, just sighed as she followed Baldric to the stables.

  A gray mare was saddled up for her — Baldric accompanied her on a black gelding. They headed for the gates and up the road, her eyes flicking over to the forest she’d emerged from that morning with Graham at her side. God, it already seemed so long ago… she bit her lip, returning her focus to the road. If she was smart, she’d forget she’d ever met Graham. She’d resign him to a distant place in her memory — he’d given her some useful information about the attackers, and she’d managed to manipulate him into getting her out of the camp and to safety. That was all. If only her mind was a computer and she could just select the undesirable memories and delete them… she’d kill to forget about the night they’d spent together, his blue eyes in the dark of the cave, his hands on her body, his naked chest against hers…

  All in the distant past now, she told herself firmly. He’d made his choice. What kind of a future could she have with some kind of witch-hunting mercenary who thought her beloved older sister was an evil witch?

  It was a nice ride. The day was freezing and so was the wind, but for once the sky wasn’t overcast, and the sun warmed her as she rode. She’d spent a lot of the last few days in wet clothes, she reflected, feeling the last of the water soaking her clothes finally drying… she hoped she wouldn’t catch a head cold. That was all she needed right now. Now that they were on their way back to the castle proper, she was beginning to worry about her reception there… after all, she’d snuck out without permission, even without telling anyone where she was going. Would Delilah ever be able to forgive her?

  A few hours later, the village came into view, and she marveled at the sight of it in the midday sun. Sure enough, beyond it she could see the mercenary camp… the tents still up, the campfires still lit. It seemed they’d decided to stay this time, instead of disappearing the way they had the night before. She ground her teeth, urging her horse to move a little faster as the severity of the situation returned to her mind. The quicker she got up to the castle, the better. She had information to give them… never mind how angry they were going to be with her for disappearing the way she had.

  In the shadow of the walls, she slid down from the back of her horse. Baldric had explained he couldn’t stay for long — he was needed back at the manor, as Lord Weatherby was entertaining guests from England that evening.

  “It’s good to make your acquaintance, Bethany Cortland,” he called down to her, having attached her horse’s reins to his. “You give my regards to your sister, won’t you?”

  “I will,” she promised, smiling as she waved him off. “Thanks again, Baldric.”

  Then she turned, bracing herself as she saw the gate sliding up. The guards on top of the wall were waving enthusiastically, and one of them gave a little cheer as she stepped through the gates. God, it felt good to be back… the familiar courtyard, the castle itself looming in front of her… she almost forgot how apprehensive she was feeling about seeing all the MacClarans again. But as she looked up at the castle, the doors burst open, and there was Delilah with Gavin at her side.

  “Bethany Suzanne Cortland!” Delilah bellowed in a voice that reminded her of their mother. “What in the fresh hell do you think you were up to? Where have you been?”

  “It’s a long story?” she said hopefully, shrugging and offering her sister her most winning smile. And then Delilah was running down the steps, hurtling across the courtyard, grabbing her and seizing her in a bruising hug.

  “Don’t ever scare me like that again, you daft idiot,” she whispered into her ear before wrenching them apart, holding her at arm’s length and glaring daggers at her. “Where the hell were you? I missed you at dinner, then you weren’t in your room, then none of the guards had seen hide nor hair of you…”

  “I know, I know,” Bethany said, shutting her eyes briefly. “I’m so sorry, Delilah, really, I didn’t mean to scare anyone. But listen — those mercenaries —”

  Gavin uttered a short cough that sounded a great deal like a laugh. Delilah shot him a look, and he feigned innocence. “What?”

  “Gavin here,” Delilah told Bethany with her eyes narrowed, “was convinced that you had ridden off to investigate that mercenary camp. And I told him that you’d never do something that dreadfully stupid, because you’d promised me that you wouldn’t.”

  “I mean, I didn’t ride off, technically,” she attempted… and Delilah’s scowl deepened.

  “You absolute moron. You could have been killed —”

  “You’re so right,” Bethany said, squeezing her sister’s shoulders. “Honestly, you are completely right, and it was a very dangerous and stupid thing to do. My lesson has been well and truly learned. But Delilah… I did find some stuff out.”

  “You did?” Gavin broke in, his face dark. “Because after you reported them, and after the men came up with nothing after their search, we spotted them making camp again. You were right — it’s a considerable deployment of men —”

  “I know!” Bethany said, her eyes wide. “I was there!”

  “The MacClarans have plenty of enemies, unfortunately,” Gavin said heavily. “We don’t recognize any of the men we saw from up here, so it’s hard to say what these men want from us —”

  “No, it’s not,” Bethany said with a broad grin, pulling her phone out of her pocket. Delilah gasped to see it — Gavin just looked blank.

  “A black rectangle?”

  “It’s a phone. It’s got a camera on it. Anyway,” she said irritably, “I have photos of the camp, photos of the people in it, and what’s more, a first-hand account of who these men are and what they want from us. And it’s nothing good. Gavin — is Laird Donal around?”

  “He’s pretty busy, Bethany,” Delilah said doubtfully. “Are you sure —”

  “I’m sure,” she said flatly, in the voice she used to dissuade people from arguing with her. It was usually effective.

  Sure enough, Delilah raised her hands in surrender.

  “I’ll go and find the Laird. Meet us in the dining hall,” Gavin said, turning and heading back toward the castle and leaving Bethany alone with her sister.

  Delilah gave her a long look… then pulled her into another hug, this one a lot softer than the bruising attack of earlier. “I was so worried,” she whispered, her voice choked. “God, Bethany, you scared me.”

  “I’m sorry. Really, I am.”

  “You look exhausted,” she said as they walked up the steps to the castle. “What happened to you out there?”

  “A lot.” Bethany sighed. “I’ll tell you all the whole story once the Laird’s here.”

  “It’s really that serious?”

  “Delilah… you know what I did back home. I know I’m not a soldier here — I know everything’s different than it is back home.” She took a deep breath. “But Delilah… I know a war whe
n I see one.”

  Chapter 20

  Delilah took her arm in a wordless gesture of comfort… who needed the comfort more, she wasn’t sure. They climbed the steps together and headed for the dining hall, which was mostly empty at this time of day — she’d clearly missed lunch, she realized with a pang of regret. The bread and cheese back at the Weatherby manor felt like a long time ago now, and she’d been distracted while she was eating them by Graham. She hardened her heart against the pang of sadness she felt when she thought about him now. Graham had made his choice… now it was time for her to make hers. And hers was to focus on keeping her home and her friends safe. Her real friends — not the friend she thought she’d made, the friend she’d taken captive, the friend she’d thought …

  Well, never mind what she’d thought about that so-called friend. He wasn’t a friend. He was an enemy… and not even her main enemy. Her main enemy was Matthew, the leader of the group and the most significant threat. He’d be the one she focused on when she briefed the Laird and whoever else decided to turn up.

  They headed through the dining hall to the table on the raised platform at the back. Bethany could feel her stomach growling as she smelled the leftovers of lunch, the scent filling the hall deliciously. Delilah glanced at her as they settled into seats at the table, clearly a little bit worried about the conversation that was about to happen.

  “Are you hungry?” she asked softly. “Have you eaten?”

  “I can wait,” Bethany said, steeling herself. She’d eat her body weight in whatever she could find in the kitchen once this conversation was over. First priority was to get this information to Laird Donal.

  Sure enough, it wasn’t long before the doors swung open. In came Laird Donal with Gavin at his side — and Eamon bringing up the rear, she noticed with surprise. Of course — it would make sense for the Captain of the Guard to be at a meeting like this. His eyes fell on her, and he gave her a nod, but she picked up an expression of relief on his face, too. She felt a pang of guilt… just how many people had known about her absence? Just how many of her hosts had she scared with her sudden disappearance? Well, she was about to make up for it, she hoped.

  “Bethany,” Donal said formally as he reached his seat. “It’s good to have you back with us. Are you hurt at all?”

  “No, thankfully,” she said. Her mind went to a scrape on her lower back that she’d sustained during her scuffle with Graham in the cave… she’d noticed it earlier that day at Weatherby’s manor, when she’d been bathing. She fought the blush that threatened to rise to her cheeks at the thought of explaining that particular injury to the assembled men. Focus on the work, she instructed herself. Don’t be stupid. “I’m intact.”

  “Glad to hear it,” Eamon rumbled. “You gave us quite a scare, disappearing like that.”

  “I really am sorry,” she said honesty, looking up and down the table. Gavin gave her a little nod, his jaw tight, but Donal and Eamon were still frowning. “I had no intention of frightening people, of going missing like that… I just wanted to check on the camp I’d seen.”

  “Aye, the camp.” Donal frowned. “Tell me about this camp. From what I understand, men went to investigate it yesterday morning, but found no sign.”

  “Yes, but I was pretty sure they’d just moved before they could be discovered,” Bethany explained, trying not to sound as though she’d felt that she’d do a better job of the search than Eamon’s men. “And sure enough, when I snuck up on the camp close to dusk —”

  “Snuck up?” Gavin interjected. “How close did you get, exactly?”

  “Close enough to take these,” she said, pulling her phone out of her pocket. “I was able to circle the camp, get images of the size of it.”

  Donal frowned as she handed him the phone, peering down at the images on its screen. “Fiona’s told me about these things a thousand times,” he told Gavin and Eamon as he held the phone gingerly, as though it would break under his hands. “Says she misses hers fiercely. Rectangles that take photos and sound and transport them vast distances. It’s very impressive,” he said, glancing up at Bethany.

  “Too bad it’s gonna be out of battery in about an hour,” she said softly. “Like… charge, fuel.”

  “Its stores can’t be replenished?”

  “Not until electricity’s invented in a few hundred years,” she said reluctantly, hearing Delilah laugh a little at her side.

  “I wouldn’t put it past Fiona to speed that up by a few decades at least,” Delilah said softly, sharing a smile with Donal.

  Eamon and Gavin were also staring at the pictures on its screen, clearly not as interested in the technological discussion as they were in the intel she’d brought back with her.

  “This is a camp of significant size,” Laird Donal said finally, handing her phone back to her. “And the men are reasonably well equipped, it seems. But what purpose do they have here, by the village?”

  “And why didn’t you come straight back once you’d taken these images?” Eamon added, frowning.

  Bethany bit her lip. This was the part that was going to make Delilah make those dismayed worried sounds in her throat she always made when Bethany told war stories.

  “Well. I may or may not have been — temporarily! — captured by the enemy.”

  The three men stared at her. Delilah uttered a horrified yelp, grabbing hold of her arm. “Bethany! No!”

  “It was fine!” she protested. “Nothing happened. And I was able to get a lot of information about the mercenaries — who they are, what they’re doing here… and what they’re planning next.”

  Donal looked worried. “Tell us what you know.”

  “Right. So. Two men caught me and brought me in. Mercenaries, they said, led by an English knight — well, ex-knight. His name is Matthew Willows.”

  “I know that name,” Gavin said, a frown storming across his face. “He’s that wretched priest who took Delilah hostage.”

  “Brother Willows,” Bethany agreed, nodding.

  Delilah was looking sideways at her, surprised.

  “Yeah, I learned all about that,” she added, giving her sister a sideways look. “Congratulations are in order, Delilah. I knew you studied sword fighting with that nerdy LARP group you were in, I didn’t know you could fight.”

  “She’s quite good,” Gavin agreed, giving his wife a quick grin.

  Bethany smiled at him, pleased that he was so impressed by her sister. To think she’d felt so hostile toward Gavin when she first arrived… he’d more than proved that he was good enough for Delilah.

  “Anyway — Matthew is that guy’s brother. He’s an English knight, but he was disgraced for attacking the daughter of his Lord and I guess went into hiding. Now he’s leading this band of witch hunters to get revenge for the death of his brother. A lot of talk about the priest getting murdered by witches, does that sound about right?” She raised an eyebrow at the assembled group.

  Gavin looked outraged.

  “As I remember it, actually, it was Sir Baldric who slayed Brother Willows — but only in defense of his Lord and his home, which they’d taken over.”

  “I met him,” Bethany said brightly. “He’s the one who escorted me home, actually.”

  “Baldric got you out of the mercenary camp?” Delilah asked, her eyes widening. “Guess he’s repaid his debt to us.”

  “Actually, I got me out of the mercenary camp,” Bethany said drily. “I’ve had training in this stuff, Delilah. I’m not some damsel in distress who needs to be rescued by some guy, you know?”

  “Sorry, sorry,” Delilah said, raising her hands. “Wait — how’d you escape?”

  “I’ll get to that. Okay — so I was taken prisoner by this huge guy called Sven, and I think a German guy called Adolf —”

  “Germany doesn’t exist yet,” Delilah murmured. The three men were looking at them blankly.

  “I should’ve taken European history,” Bethany grumbled. “Okay, well, whatever — and a guy called Gr
aham. Anyway —” she skimmed past Graham as quickly as she could, not quite wanting to get into that yet — “they took me to see Matthew, who tried to interrogate me about my gun and my phone, how I’d gotten them, what I was doing here. I told them I’d lost my memory, and that I could only remember the last week — they immediately assumed I’d been bewitched by the ‘MacClaran witches’, whatever that means.”

  Donal was nodding, his face drawn. “We have something of a reputation. It seems that that reputation has spread.”

  “Good thinking, though,” Eamon said thoughtfully. “To frame yourself as another victim, that is.”

  “Yeah, I thought so. Anyway, Matthew has a woman with him. Her name was Cristabella — she claimed to be a witch herself, with real powers, though she didn’t really show me any, so whether or not that’s just showboating I couldn’t tell you.” She hesitated. “Obviously we can’t rule it out, right?”

  Eamon was nodding. “Not knowing what we know about magic, no. It’s possible this woman is faking it… it’s also possible she has real power.”

  “Strange, for a band of witch hunters to get help from a witch.” Donal frowned. “Did they say what she was capable of?”

  “Graham said she could drive men berserk… send them into fits of rage.”

  “Well, that’s not necessarily witchcraft.” Delilah giggled.

  “Anyway, she came to interrogate me. So before it could get too unpleasant, I offered to show them the gun. I fired it, and in the confusion I was able to take a hostage. Graham, one of Matthew’s sworn men, I think — not a mercenary but a close member of the company.” She tried to keep her voice neutral as she spoke about him. “He was well-liked, so they didn’t draw their swords on me. We escaped into the woods, waited out the storm in a cave, then set off in the morning.”