Highlander Cursed: A Scottish Time Travel Romance

by Preston, Rebecca

  “Oh,” she said, blinking a little at the question. “Um. Well. My dad was in the army when I was growing up —”

  “A soldier?”

  She looked at him, thought about his work. Thought about the world she’d come from and the world she’d found herself in. “I guess things don’t change much. Anyway, we traveled around a lot. He and my mother split up when I was a kid… my brother stayed with Mom but I went with Dad around the country.”

  “The country. That’s America, yes?”

  “Yeah.” She frowned, trying to remember how widespread colonial information had been. Had America been discovered yet — and more to the point, did the common folk know about it? It didn’t help, of course, that she hadn’t been able to ascertain exactly what year it was. Some folklore expert, she scolded herself. She’d had tunnel vision when it came to the castle, it seemed, and she’d failed altogether to put things into a wider perspective. Ah, well. There’d be time for that once the immediate problem of the curse and the witch hunters was solved.

  “Tell me about it.”

  She laughed, not sure where to begin — but he kept asking her gentle prying questions, and before too long she found herself talking at length about America. She’d seen an awful lot of it as a child, mostly through car windows (cars were an exciting deviation — she wished she knew more about how engines worked, because the look on Gavin’s face when she explained how fast these metal wagons could travel was fantastic.) But he was interested, too, in the country, in how it had been founded, in how people lived. He didn’t seem very interested in modern Scotland, though she tried to tell him what she knew — he simply waved a hand.

  “I know what it’s like here. I know these people, I know what we’ll be like in four hundred years, a thousand, a million. Let me guess — we still hate the English, and we’re still fighting anyone who’ll stay still long enough about independence?”

  She couldn’t help but laugh. “That sounds about right, if I’m honest.” She remembered the taxi driver that had taken her from the airport to the village outside the castle, though that trip seemed like it was a thousand years ago. Even he had had a few choice words to say about the English. And fair enough, too — they’d not exactly treated the world well, had they?

  “My country’s the colonizing power these days,” she admitted, thinking of America’s rather war-torn history. “England’s not got nearly as much power as it used to, not since World War One. America has sort of taken its place, I guess. Kind of grim, if you think about it.”

  “You’re off-topic again,” Gavin said gently, his green eyes twinkling at her with more softness than she could ever remember seeing in his face. “I want to know about you. Not history, not politics, not America, not England. You.”

  “Well, I want to know more about you, too,” she objected. “I’ve been talking for hours about my childhood, I want to know what it was like growing up here in Scotland. It’s so beautiful here. I spent so much time in cars… I bet you had adventures.”

  “Aye, like all young lads,” he said, waving a hand dismissively. “A lot of running around in the forest and hitting one another with sticks.”

  “Boys don’t change much,” Delilah laughed, thinking of her brother, who’d carried an arsenal of favorite sticks with him during their travels. “You grew up in the castle?”

  “Aye, like every MacClaran for generations past and generations to come.” A shadow crossed his face. “Though I suppose that ends sooner or later, if it was a ruin you were investigating.”

  “Yes,” she admitted, a little unwillingly. How much could she really tell him about his castle’s history? She hadn’t read much science fiction as a child, but she’d certainly read enough to know that telling people from the past about the future could be a serious problem. What if she caused some kind of catastrophic time paradox, some cataclysmic event that destroyed life as they knew it? Or worse — what if it was her telling him about the future that would cause the abandonment of the castle? By all accounts, the reason for the castle’s abandonment wasn’t clear — overall, it seemed like people had just migrated away from the place. But what if the truth had simply been lost to history? Record-keeping certainly wasn’t as good in the past as it was in the twenty-first century.

  “We’re here now,” she said firmly. “Now and for the future as far as we can see. That’s all that matters.”

  “Aye, I’ll agree to that,” he said, grinning at her. “I suppose I’ll not live long enough to see the castle abandoned. And at any rate, the MacClarans will continue, with or without the castle. The Clan is what’s important, not a pile of stones.”

  “Aye,” she agreed, in a passable imitation of his accent, startling a laugh out of him. “It’s good to hear you laughing. You don’t do it very often, do you?”

  “I’ve not had much joy in my life for a long time,” he admitted, a heavier tone creeping into his voice. “Honestly, I’ve been a wreck since Morag died. I’m a little ashamed of it.”

  “She was important to you,” Delilah said softly, not even bothered that the subject of her ancestor had come up again. “And she died so horribly, so unjustly. It’s only natural that that would stay with you long after she’s gone.”

  “It feels as though she’s haunting me. As though she’s with me all the time, watching and waiting for me to do something about what happened to her. I’ve felt so powerless, for so long — and then you came to the castle. It was like seeing a ghost. Even today, in the Hall, when I was staring at Kenneth in his helmet and trying to decide whether I believed it was him or not… well, I saw you peeking through the door, and for a second it was her. It was Morag, looking straight at me, telling me to act. So I did.”

  Delilah’s eyes widened. She hadn’t even noticed that he’d spotted her — she’d thought she was so well hidden behind the door. Hopefully the Laird hadn’t seen her as well. “That was why you called Kenneth’s bluff like that? What if you’d been wrong about who he was?”

  “Well, it’d have been pretty embarrassing,” he chuckled, and she grinned despite her concern. “Donal would’ve had a few words for me for sure. And you women would probably be having some awkward conversations with that Brother Willows as we speak.”

  “But you were right,” Delilah said, her smile crinkling her eyes. “So I’m having a conversation with you instead.”

  “Aye,” he said softly.

  She was suddenly aware of how close he was to her, the way his body was leaning into her space. Had their chairs been inching closer to one another the entire time she’d been here? She realized with a start that it was dark outside — that they’d been talking all afternoon. It hardly felt like half an hour had passed by. He was so comfortable to talk to, so easy to be with — especially when he wasn’t guarding himself and his emotions so fiercely. If men only knew how much better company they were when they weren’t hung up on being so strong and tough! Women and men would get on a lot better, she suspected. He tilted his head to the side now, looking curious — she realized some of her thoughts must have shown on her face, and smiled ruefully.

  “I was just thinking — how much I like your company when you’re not trying to hate me,” she said softly.

  He chuckled, an apologetic look in his eyes.

  “Delilah — I’m so sorry, truly, for how I treated you when you came here. I know I’ve explained why, and all, but regardless of the reasoning… it was rotten of me. You deserve much better than to be put through the wringer because I have trouble dealing with my own feelings.”

  “Thank for you saying that,” she said gently — then a wicked smile crept across her face. “I have a few ideas of how you could make it up to me…”

  “Oh, is that right?” he said softly, and she could feel the heat of his skin against hers as he reached across, ever so casually, to take her small hand in his.

  The skin there was calloused but surprisingly smooth — he must take good care of his hands, she reflected absently,
even as she felt her pulse rising. It figured. A man who spent so much time with a sword in his hands couldn’t afford any injury that would make that uncomfortable.

  “What did you have in mind?”

  “Well,” she murmured, then paused, watching his eyes flicker as he tried to guess what she was about to say… “You could always do my laundry for me —”

  He snorted laughter, a surprisingly undignified sound from him that only served to make him more charming. How had she managed not to notice how handsome he was straight away? How had she survived even a few days without these feelings taking her over, she wondered, grinning broadly as he got decisively to his feet.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Why, to do your laundry, of course.” he said, with a wicked gleam in his eye as he pulled her to her feet. She stumbled a little, as if by accident, wound up standing as close to him as she could without their bodies touching. She was dizzy. “I think we ought to start with what you’ve got on…”

  “Oh?”

  “Let me help you.”

  “I think it’s the least you can do, all things considered,” she breathed, and then he was kissing her again, hard and furious and passionate, and it was all she could do to fling her arms around his neck and succumb to the passion they’d both been fighting for what felt like forever.

  He lifted her effortlessly from the ground and she broke away to gasp, wrapping her legs around his waist and feeling rather precarious as he carried her to his bed — which, she had to acknowledge, was much broader and softer than the narrow one she’d been sleeping on in the guest quarters. They both fell onto the bed and he was on top of her, kissing her mouth, her throat, her face, his body hot and hard against hers, and she laughed as he carefully but quickly unbuttoned the shirt she was wearing and tugged it away, Once he’d removed it, he sat back, straddling her, and made a show of solemnly folding the shirt and placing it on his bedside table while she wriggled helplessly underneath the weight of his body.

  “Gavin! Come back —”

  “If you insist,” he murmured — and then he was on top of her again, his hands roaming with more freedom across her bare torso, lighting fires everywhere they touched. Thank God his armor was off already — she didn’t much fancy her chances with a series of stiff buckles from this awkward position. All she had to contend with was his shirt, which she dragged off him with much less care than he’d removed hers, before setting about the buttons on his fly. It had been a long time, far too long, and she’d been wanting him for what felt like an eternity, and every single piece of fabric that stood between their naked bodies was her mortal enemy.

  “Easy,” he chuckled as she dragged his trousers down then turned to her own, and with his help they were soon both naked — and he sat back a little, both of them taking a moment to just gaze at the other. He was as muscular as she’d suspected, his broad chest and shoulders wrapped in the powerful muscles he needed to swing a sword — she ran a hand across his chest almost without meaning to, and smiled at the way he shivered at her touch. She shivered, too, as he cupped her face in his huge hand, eyes full of desire.

  “Are you cold?” he whispered, and she nodded — the air was cold in the room, though that hadn’t been the reason for the shiver that had torn through her body at his touch. They pulled the blankets back and climbed into his bed, wrapped in each other’s arms, kissing each other fiercely as their hands roamed and the heat between them climbed and effortlessly, naturally, he was inside her and they were moving together under the blankets, their bodies seeming to fit together like two puzzle pieces. She rarely climaxed at the same time as her lovers, but whether it was the explosive tension between them, or the length of time she’d spent pining for him, or simply the way their bodies fit together, as his breath quickened and his thrusts became more frantic, she felt herself — to her surprise and delight — coming close too… and they crashed over the edge together at the same moment, her name on his lips.

  They lay together for a long time, Gavin stroking her hair, and Delilah couldn’t worry about witch hunters, or curses, or anything but how happy she felt. To her chagrin, the women were right. There was a future here — not one she could ever have dreamed of as a young woman, but a future she was excited to discover with Gavin MacClaran at her side.

  Chapter 23

  They spent the night together in Gavin’s extremely comfortable bed. After a few hours, Gavin sent down to the kitchens for food for them both — she hid under the covers when the servant came, unwilling to be the subject of gossip — though she didn’t imagine there were many other explanations for her own absence from her room and Gavin needing dinner for two delivered to his quarters. The bed was so much more comfortable than hers, and she quietly hoped that she could insinuate herself into this room on a more permanent basis. She highly doubted that any of the beds in the other rooms were as good as this one — if only because this one was the one that had Gavin in it.

  They got distracted while the food was on its way, the knock on the door pulling them out of a passionate embrace, and Delilah squealed a protest when Gavin padded to the door with only his trousers on. She buried herself under the blankets again, and to her mortification heard Dolores herself at the door, making friendly enquiries about how they were both faring, and wishing them a nice dinner together. Well, so much for keeping our new relationship to ourselves for the time being, Delilah thought. But she couldn’t be too annoyed — she was too giddy and exultant about what had transpired between her and Gavin. And he seemed happy, too. He kept touching her face as if checking that she was really there, and the smile on his face was as soft and unguarded as any expression she’d ever seen him make.

  She couldn’t even feel resentful or jealous toward Morag, and his relationship to her. The more she thought about the witch, the closer she felt to her — and the less she felt like she had to measure up to her, or be like her, to keep Gavin’s interest. He was clearly interested in her, Delilah, not because she resembled Morag, or because he wanted her to replace her — this was a new relationship, a new love. They talked long into the night, her regaling him with stories about cars and airplanes and all the wonders of the twenty-first century, him full of daring stories of war and battle with the English and with antagonistic neighboring clans. It was a wonder there were any Scottish people left at all, Delilah thought with some bemusement — the more she learned about their bloody history, the more it surprised her that anyone survived these wars. He had a collection of scars marking his body, and she traced each one with her fingertips as he told the story of how it had gotten there. The scar on his leg that Morag had healed was the deepest, and she smiled, thinking of the clever witch who’d healed him. Saved his life. She was proud to be a descendant of Morag — proud to carry the woman’s legacy forward.

  After a series of further distraction, they fell asleep together sometime in the wee small hours of the morning, entwined in one another’s bodies. The sun crept across her face some hours later, disturbing her from her sleep — and she realized muzzily that he was gone. Fear gripped her heart. Had she somehow dreamed all that? Had she hallucinated the entire thing — him coming to her room, bringing her here, making love to her through the night? Then she looked around the room she was in, and relief crashed over her like a wave. There he was, splashing his face with water from a basin, his armor half on.

  “You’re working?”

  “Good morning,” he said, grinning at her as he turned around. “I thought nothing on Earth would wake ye. Did you know you snore?”

  She covered her face with the pillow, mortified. She’d thought she’d grown out of that particular habit — her father had always used to tease her about it when they’d shared hotel rooms on the road, but since she’d gotten her own place she’d just assumed that it had stopped.

  “I find it rather endearing, actually,” he said, and she pulled the pillow away a little. “But yes, I’m working. I’m late, in fact. Was meant to be on the wa
lls at dawn. Round the clock witch hunter patrol, you know.”

  “Silly old fools,” she mumbled, curling up under the blanket and feeling rather warm and cozy in contrast to her mental image of the wall of the castle. “Taking you away from me.”

  “I’ll be back mid-afternoon,” he said softly. “You’re more than welcome to spend as much time here as ye wish. My quarters are yours, if you want them.”

  “Your bed is definitely better than mine,” she agreed, smiling. “I don’t think I’ve slept so well since I’ve been here. Though the company helped as well, of course.”

  He smiled back at her, buckling the armor onto his shoulders and grabbing his sword and helmet from the table. She rose to kiss him goodbye, and very nearly made him even later for his shift than he’d intended — laughing, he pushed her away and was gone.

  She could hear his boots tromping down the hallway. Left alone, she lay back down in his bed, seriously considering getting some more sleep — but then a growl from her stomach distracted her. It had been a long time since last night’s meal of bread and cheese, she reflected, and a hearty breakfast was definitely in order. She found her clothes around the room one by one, amused by how far they’d been spread despite Gavin’s joking pretense that he was going to carefully launder them all for her, and dressed quickly. Should she go back to her room and change into a new set? Would people notice she was wearing the same clothes as yesterday? Probably — but if Dolores had had half a chance to talk to anybody, they’d all know what was going on regardless. And besides, she was hungry. Resolute — and determined not to let anyone make her feel embarrassed about where she’d spent the night — Delilah set off down the stairs.

  From what she’d heard from the other women, premarital sex wasn’t anything near as much of a problem here as it was in more Catholic-dominated areas. Plenty of the castle folk had strong faith, of course — but there wasn’t nearly as much judgment when it came to sex as people tended to think. Still, she was a little wary of judgment, especially given that so many of the castle seemed to think she was an evil, vengeful witch returned from the dead. And a part of her mind was worrying about the practical elements, too. It didn’t seem like Gavin had exactly been sleeping around, so diseases weren’t a concern so much, but what about pregnancy? That was the last thing she needed right now — although she had to admit, a part of her was thrilled at the idea of a little baby with Gavin’s green eyes. That could wait. She’d look into it. Maybe Cora would know some kind of natural birth control method? There were almost certainly herbs that would keep pregnancy off the table for the time being. She’d ask the women.