Hold A Highlander: A Scottish Time Travel Romance (A Highlander Across Time Book 3)

by Rebecca Preston

  When she got back to her room that afternoon, she realized with a sigh that Niamh had left her sewing kit behind. No doubt she'd come by to collect it sooner or later — sighing, she took the pins and needles from the garments they'd been working on, resigning herself to getting hold of a sewing kit of her own and continuing on this particular course of study by herself. There was something very pleasing about learning how to make your own clothing — tailoring a garment to your exact measurements… and she wanted to make something for all her new friends one day, to thank them for taking her in and giving her such a wonderful new home.

  The sewing kit was packed and ready, sitting by the door, and almost on cue, she heard a gentle knocking — but that couldn't have been Niamh, who was in the habit of slamming the door open whenever she pleased. Sure enough, when she called for the visitor to come in, it was Hugh and not Niamh who came in, a broad smile alighting on his face when he saw her. She resisted the urge to hug him in greeting, remembering what he'd said about wanting to take things slow — at least until she'd met his family that was. Still, it was a temptation that was difficult to resist, and she couldn't help but think some rather inappropriate thoughts about what they could do, alone in this little room….

  "Thought I'd come by and see if you'd like to ride to my mother's cottage together," he said with a smile. "You can ride, can't you?"

  "I can! I can sew a little too, now," she added proudly, her eyes alighting on the sewing kit. "Although I'm going to need a new teacher…"

  She was about to tell him the whole story when the door slammed open behind him. To her shock, there stood Niamh, her dark hair loose from its braid and a look of vicious anger in her eyes. "Oh, this is a surprise," she snarled, her eyes landing on Hugh.

  But she didn't look surprised, Carissa thought remotely. Far from it. She looked like someone who'd been lurking in the hallway, just waiting for this precise opportunity for chaos to present itself. She wouldn't have put it past the girl.

  And Hugh, for his part, looked utterly dismayed by her presence. He retreated across the room toward the fire, almost stumbling backwards when he saw her, a vivid look of annoyance mingled with fear on his face. "What on Earth are you doing here?"

  "I was going to ask you the same thing, you cad," she snarled, narrowing her eyes. "How could you do this to me? First you ruin my life, then you start showing off around town with this new slag?"

  Carissa bristled. "Excuse me? What did you call me?"

  "This isn't about you, butterfingers," Niamh snarled, and she narrowed her eyes, a little vexed by the insult despite herself. "Keep out of it."

  "Niamh, there is nothing between us and there never was," Hugh said, clearly fighting to keep control of himself. "Get out of here."

  "I work here," Niamh snarled. "I was just coming back to get my things, seeing as I've just been informed that this bitch doesn't want to see me any longer. What a coward," she sneered, turning those furious eyes to Carissa, who was taken aback by the look of seething hatred on her face. "First you steal my man, then you try to get me removed from my place in the castle? Well, it will not work –"

  "I did nothing of the sort," Carissa snapped, her anger finally flaring. "I had no idea you two had any history at all, and I certainly didn't steal anyone from anyone –"

  "The only history we have has been fabricated entirely by Niamh," Hugh said angrily, pointing at the girl. "Has she told you about what she did, the lies she told?"

  "Don't you dare –" Niamh started, but Carissa could tell that Hugh was properly angry now. It was intimidating… and, she had to admit, a little bit hot.

  "She started spreading rumors," Hugh said, his eyes narrowed. "Harmless ones at first — rumors that we were sweet on each other, that we were courting. They weren't true, of course, but they didn't hurt anyone. But when she began to tell people that we were betrothed, that we were lovers, that our wedding would be in the spring –"

  "Don't," Niamh breathed. "Don't!"

  "I had to put a stop to it," Hugh continued, his jaw clenched. "I had to put a stop to it when she began telling everyone that she was with child. My child. Remember that, Niamh? Do you remember the midwife seeing to you? Coming out and telling everyone that you weren't with child, that you'd been lying? My name still hasn't recovered," he added, eyes blazing with anger. "There are still plenty of folk in the village who believe I took advantage of a poor, sweet young girl's naiveté — all because I didn't want to marry her –"

  "I hate you," Niamh hissed, her eyes black with rage — but it was clear that the truth had defeated her. With one last lingering, poisonous look at Carissa, she snatched up her sewing kit and stormed out of the room, slamming the door shut behind her for the second time that day.

  Chapter 13

  “Yikes," Carissa said into the ringing silence that followed, feeling deeply uncomfortable and utterly at a loss for what else to say. Hugh looked utterly drained as he dropped onto the bed, the anger leaving him as quickly as it had arrived as he rubbed at his forehead with one hand.

  "Sorry you had to witness all of that, Carissa," he said heavily, shaking his head. "I didn't mean for any of this to … well, it was an unfortunate altercation, but I was hoping it was all in the past."

  "You mentioned her," she said, taking a seat next to him and leaning gently against his shoulder in an attempt to reassure him. "Weeks ago. You didn't mention her name, though, so I didn't make the connection when she started looking after me…"

  "I'd have hoped she'd be over it," he said bleakly. "I did have my suspicions when you mentioned a young woman from the village was teaching you to sew, but I'd hoped that it wouldn't matter one way or the other if it was her. I suppose not, though. She still seems to be clinging onto… what she thought we had. There was nothing between us, Carissa. I swear that to you."

  She squeezed his hand, trying to hold his gaze. "I trust you," she said simply, smiling as that seemed to reassure him. "And even if there had been… that behavior was completely out of line from her, Hugh. She's not well."

  He shook his head. "Aye, she's always been an odd one. Forceful.. and very manipulative when she doesn't get her way. Unfortunately, that means using words as weapons… regardless of what the truth is. And she doesn't care who she hurts while she's doing it."

  Carissa nodded, thinking of poor Edith, whose exciting secret had been spoiled for her by the gossip of the servants. "I feel sorry for her," she said simply, shrugging her shoulders. "And sorry that she's upset you."

  "Let's not think about it," Hugh said firmly, squeezing her hand in his. "I came to collect you for dinner. Are you ready to go?"

  "I think so. I've never ridden a horse in clothes like this, though," she added, gesturing down at her new dress. It felt a little strange to have had Niamh's help in sewing it, though. Now that she knew what she did about the girl's nature and history… still, it was a very nice dress, and she decided that she'd take more credit for its sewing than Niamh.

  "You'll be just fine," Hugh assured her with a smile. And with that, they were heading off down the corridors of the castle. She felt an instinct to take his arm and suppressed it. With Niamh in such a sensitive state, it wouldn't do to be seen holding onto Hugh's arm like that. She had a feeling that word would get back to Niamh very quickly if she wasn't careful.

  It was a rare sunny afternoon, and when they headed into the stables she felt herself getting excited at the prospect of riding. It had been such a long time since she'd been on horseback — Hugh had promised a few times to take her for a ride, but the weather and then her long illness had prevented them. He paused outside of the stall where their favorite gelding was housed, and glanced back at her, his eyes amused.

  "Now, Scath doesn't generally like anyone riding him he doesn't know," he said, and her heart sank… then rose again when he continued, "So it's a good thing you two have made such fast friends."

  "Seriously? I can ride him?"

  Hugh nodded, a broad smile on his fa
ce, and she grinned broadly, giving the gelding a good rub under his chin. "And thanks to all your help with the tack, it won't take half an hour to untangle a bridle for him."

  "The joys of a well-organized tack room," Carissa said primly. The two of them worked quickly to tack up two horses, and before she knew it, Hugh was giving her a boost onto the tall gelding's back. The skirts were a little cumbersome, and she took an awkward few minutes to rearrange them such that she could sit comfortably, but once they were gathered under her legs she felt at home on the gelding's back.

  "You alright up there?" Hugh called from the ground. He was holding the bridle of a young chestnut mare who was eyeballing the gelding warily — it seemed Scath had a habit of nipping at other horses when he felt they were encroaching into his personal space.

  "I'm great," she said with a grin, feeling at home on the horse's back. "I guess they were telling the truth when they said you never forget how to ride a horse."

  "Aye, that's true," Hugh agreed with an easy smile, swinging aboard his mare with a practiced ease that she couldn't help but admire. Then they were off, Hugh leading the way on his mare, the gelding dropping into step behind her with a smooth, rocking gait that was an absolute dream to sit to. Carissa felt wonderful. The horse beneath her, the sunlight on her skin, a gorgeous man riding ahead of her… but she couldn't help but think of Niamh as they headed through the castle gates and down a long dirt road that led toward town.

  He must have seen her expression or sensed her malaise somehow. "Are you still worried about Niamh?"

  "A little," she admitted, shaking her head. "I just don't like upsetting people."

  "She upset herself," Hugh said darkly.

  "Still, she was a good friend to me. She taught me to sew. Maybe if I talk to her –"

  "I wouldn't, if I were you," Hugh said quickly, and there was real worry on his face when she glanced over at him. "Niamh is… she's a sweet girl, but I get a very bad sense from her, Carissa. I don't know what she'd be capable of. What she said about me… well, it could have ruined my life. It did more damage than I care to admit to my reputation, that's for certain. I won't tell you what to do, Carissa, but I would strongly suggest that you stay away from her."

  She nodded thoughtfully, taking his advice to heart. He was right… it was hard to tell what a girl like Niamh was capable of. Best case, she'd be angry for a few days then get over it. Worst case… well, a girl so manipulative and scheming might set her mind to causing all kinds of harm to the girl her beloved was interested in. A grin spread across her face that had nothing to do with the dire things she was thinking about… the fact that Hugh was interested in her was, well, distracting to say the least.

  It was a beautiful ride through the countryside. Though her memories of the modern day were still strong, she hadn't exactly been paying a lot of attention to the scenery through the bus window as they drove up to the ruin. She wasn't even sure if she and Hugh were riding the same way — had the hotel been north or south of Dunscaith? Which way was north, anyway? Difficult to tell now that the weather had come over cloudy again… but she didn't mind. It was enough just to enjoy the ride, the pleasant warmth of the horse beneath her, her body remembering how to ride even though it had been years since she'd last been on a horse. And Hugh, up ahead of her, chatting away as they rode, telling her about how his family had lived on Skye for longer than any of them could remember.

  A cottage came into view and Hugh reined his mare to a halt, raising his hand to stop her as well. Carissa's eyes were fixed on the cottage, a two-storied home with ivy climbing up one wall and what looked like an enormous vegetable garden in the front yard. It was beautiful, and she sensed instinctively that this was Erin's cottage — and the look on Hugh's face told her she was right. He took a deep breath.

  "Just — get ready for my sisters, alright? They're a handful and a half. Each."

  "I'll be fine," she said impatiently, craning her neck to see if she could see any of the army of girls through the cottage's windows. "I'm great with kids."

  "Are you sure? I know you don't have any siblings of your own –"

  "Come on, Hugh. I survived time travel, I think I can survive your sisters."

  "Fine," he said faintly. "But don't say I didn't warn you."

  It was the work of a moment to untack the horses and leave them on a loose tether to graze on the sweet meadow grass that was growing alongside the road in front of the cottage. Hugh took her arm in his and she walked with him up the winding path through the garden. What she'd thought was a vegetable garden was even more extensive than that — her eyes widened as she took in not only a sizable vegetable garden, but dozens of unknown herbs spilling over at least twenty little garden beds, hand-built with obvious care.

  "This garden looks big enough to feed an army," she pointed out, and Hugh chuckled.

  "Aye, an army… or a family of seven. Last chance to run," he added, only half-joking — and grinning at him, she reached out to knock on the cottage's front door.

  A stampede of footsteps sounded behind the door, and it slammed open. Down the hall, she saw Erin, an apron around her waist and one hand raised in greeting — but then she disappeared amid the children who were crowding the door. Hugh hadn't been exaggerating when he said the girls were like an army — a wall of sound hit her as all six of them began chattering at once. Two small ones lunged forward to hug Hugh, one around each leg — one of the elder ones reached for Carissa's hand and drew her forward, and the others swarmed around them, all chattering furiously as they were led through into a sizable sitting room that nevertheless felt tiny with all eight of them.

  Hugh bellowed for quiet — a few of the girls switched to a whisper, and he rolled his eyes, raising his voice loud enough to be heard over the din to make his introductions. Carissa wished she'd brought her notebook to keep track of all the names. First and eldest among the girls was Maggie, with a long red braid that fell almost to her waist and a pair of pale blue eyes that shone with warmth when she looked at Carissa. His sister Brenna had her mother's dark hair and a smile that reminded Carissa of Hugh.

  "Maggie's fifteen and Brenna's thirteen and Leah's twelve and –"

  "Mary, hush," Leah scolded the littlest of the group, her dark eyes flashing with irritation. "Let Hugh speak."

  "This is Leah," Hugh continued with a smile. "And the twins are Bonnie and Anne –"

  "— they're both nine but Anne's older by seven whole minutes –" Mary interrupted.

  "You don't know that," Bonnie objected shrilly. "You weren't even there, you weren't even alive yet –"

  "— and the chatterbox here is Mary," Hugh said with a roll of his eyes, scooping the smallest girl off the ground into his arms. She giggled, unrepentant — she had her eldest sister's pale blue eyes and her brother's jet black hair.

  "I'm seven."

  "Good to know," Carissa said gravely.

  Mary giggled, a smile spreading across her face. The twins were squabbling — it seemed the subject of which of the two girls was the oldest was something of a sore one.

  "Come on, then, you pack of ragamuffins." That was Erin, standing in the doorway to the sitting room with a broad smile on her lovely face. She didn't look like a woman who'd had seven children that was for sure — Carissa wondered what her secret was. She looked to be in her early forties, if that, and though her hair was graying she had a surprisingly youthful look to her. "Let's have dinner before the night closes in all the way. Lovely to see you, Carissa," she added with a smile.

  Carissa smiled, following the small army of children through to the dining room — Mary had taken her by the hand and was earnestly explaining every detail of the cottage's architecture, while the twins continued to bicker over who was oldest. Hugh shot her an apologetic look, but she only grinned back at him.

  She'd always wondered what it would be like to be part of a big family. Now, she supposed, she was going to find out.

  Chapter 14

  Dinner was,
unsurprisingly, absolutely delicious. Carissa couldn't have named half of the herbs that had been used to season the meat and vegetables that they all shared, but even the smell in the dining room was enough to set her mouth to watering. There was an enormous dining table in here, as long as any of the ones in the Hall at Castle Dunscaith, and she smiled to herself at the way the girls moved automatically to their accustomed places. She imagined the nightly ritual of dinner was a well-practiced one, and she couldn't help but giggle at the dutiful way the girls all crowded together to make enough room for her and Hugh to sit side by side toward the top of the table. Erin took the seat closest to the kitchen, and the ten of them set about eating their meal.

  There was never a moment of silence not that it shocked her after Hugh's discriptions. A little overwhelmed, Carissa just sat and listened to the four or five separate conversations that seemed to be going on — the twins arguing, Leah carefully dissecting her meal and identifying the herbs in it one by one, Mary maintaining an ongoing lecture to anyone at all who would listen about what she'd done that day, Maggie and Brenna hotly discussing whether or not a certain boy in the village had in fact expressed romantic interest in another girl — and on it went.

  "You get used to it," Hugh said with a shrug.

  To her surprise, he seemed to be keeping track of all the various threads of conversation — he'd throw a comment in here and there, encourage Mary's monologue with a quick question or two, warn the twins not to be unkind to one another — all while managing to keep shoveling food into his mouth at a surprising rate. Erin grinned conspiratorially at Carissa as her children talked, ate and laughed.