Highlander Hunted: A Scottish Time Travel Romance (Highlander In Time Book 8)

by Rebecca Preston

  Audrina's eyes widened. "I don't think I've ever heard you swear before."

  "He's asleep!"

  "That's not what I'm worried about," she said with a grin. "It's nice to see some fire from you. Just… make sure you don't freeze him out completely, you know? Brendan's a good man. A little slow, maybe, but he'll come around. Give him a chance to prove himself, would you? For me."

  "For you," Helena said unwillingly. "I'll give him another shot. Just for you."

  She grinned. "Good. And if he ever calls you the wrong name again… well, just refer him to me. Nurses are very good at inflicting pain in ways that never show a wound," she promised. It sounded like a joke… but not completely.

  "Remind me to never get on your bad side," Helena said drily, and the two women laughed together, almost waking Jamie from his sleep.

  It felt good to spend a few days looking after someone else. It took her mind right off the mystery of the caves, her ongoing confusion and dismay about being here — and when Jamie was finally well enough to go on his way without being constantly monitored, she felt a little at a loss for what to do. So, with an afternoon stretching out free and clear in front of her, she decided to have a talk with Brendan and see how he was feeling about their conversation of a few days ago.

  But to her dismay, he was nowhere to be found. Not in his quarters, not in the hallways of the castle… she searched for almost an hour, growing more and more impatient, before finally giving up in frustration after covering every inch of the courtyard. Where the hell was he? Audrina had mentioned that he'd used to live down in the village… had he returned to his quarters there just to avoid her? How rude of him. Downright nasty, to leave like that when they had so much unfinished business to discuss.

  With nothing to do, she could feel her mind spiraling. She spent the afternoon wandering anxiously and aimlessly around the castle, her mind running away with worst case scenarios. He hated her… he'd given up his friendship with her completely, she'd never see him again. It was strange… something about knowing that all the other women had wound up in happy relationships with the men they'd met here had made her feel complacent about Brendan. Convinced that her feelings would be returned… that he'd want her, eventually. Her, Helena — not the wife she looked so much like. But it was becoming clear that that wasn't the case. Was she destined to become some old spinster here? What was she going to do with the rest of her life?

  Because no matter how she looked at it, it was looking like she was stuck here. Hope that she could find a way home was fading with each passing day, as she learned more and more about this place and the magic that had brought her and all the other women here. They were happy here, content with their husbands and families… there was no way back for them, or for Helena. The difference for Helena was that she wasn't happy here. That she'd blown her shot at being happy with a man, with a husband, maybe even with a family someday. No, she'd be alone forever. All because she couldn't be a little bit patient with a man who got her name wrong….

  She found herself in the kitchens, a place she'd wandered a few times in her explorations… and a place where she knew wine was often stored. Before she could think about it, she'd lifted a bottle from the cupboard where it was stored and stole out of the back doors with it. A little shocked with herself — but thrilled to have a drink, finally — she moved around to the back of the castle where there was a seldom-frequented nook she could steal away into. There, she sat as the light drained from the sky, drinking the wine and lapsing deeper and deeper into her misery. The alcohol successfully chased the anxiety away — she was no longer scared of the place she was in, frightened she'd messed anything up, anxious that Brendan didn't like her. All the uncertainty had been replaced with a grim fog of certainty — certainty that there was nothing good in this world. The worst case scenario had eventuated. She was stuck here, in this ridiculous backwards medieval place, with none of the comforts of modern life… and she'd die here, alone and miserable, without ever even having a hot shower again. Maybe she'd been destined to end up with Brendan, but that was all over now. She'd ruined it, like she ruined everything.

  There was something so comforting about self-pity. It wasn't long at all before she'd finished the whole bottle of wine. Giggling to herself, finding an odd kind of tragic comedy in her abject despair, she hid the bottle and rose, swaying, to her feet. Where was she going now? There was nowhere at all to go. She'd searched the whole castle, high and low… there was nothing left to explore but what lay beyond the gates.

  The sun wasn't quite down yet, and the gates were still open. Before she knew it, she was striding through the gates, moving confidently, and if the guards on the wall saw her, they didn't try to stop her. She was out. She was free.

  It was time to see about these bloody caves, once and for all.

  Chapter 14

  The night was freezing cold, that was what she noticed first as she set out across the moors. Even drunk, she had a solid sense of direction — she'd figured out early on what direction the sandstone cliffs lay in, and her suspicions had been confirmed when she'd watched guards ride out across these particular moors. There was even a winding path across the moors that led in the right direction — she set off following it, a pleased grin on her face as she trekked enthusiastically toward the cliffs she knew lay this way. It felt so good to be in motion again, to finally be taking matters into her own hands. She'd come to Scotland to explore these caves, damn it, and she'd damn well do it if it killed her.

  Why the hell had she let them stop her, anyway? Scared of some monster that was eating sheep? Whatever. She wasn't a sheep; she was a person. And if something wanted to eat her… well, let it try. She'd give it a good run for its money. What did it matter if she got eaten by a bear, anyway? What did she have to live for out here? Not much. Maybe some cave exploration. It was the only thing she was good for. That, and entertaining Jamie, she supposed… but she'd run out of modern slang soon enough, and at any rate, he had plenty of people looking after him.

  The fog was getting thicker and thicker, and she realized with a start that she'd wandered off the path. It was a clear night, though — the stars were shining above her, and there was enough moonlight to see reasonably well by. She could tell she was still headed in the right direction, toward the sandstone cliffs, where she'd finally find the caves she'd been wanting to look at for as long as she could remember, now. They were what had brought her here, and she was damn well going to see them if it killed her. There was something about the idea of seeing them that made her feel oddly like … well, like the world around her wasn't real just yet. The caves would verify that this was all actually happening, once and for all. It made an odd kind of sense. Everyone kept telling her there were no caves there. So if she could find the caves, she'd prove them all wrong… prove that she knew what was happening, that she had a good sense of what was real and what wasn't. And that would mean that… well, it would mean that this hard, uncomfortable reality was the one she had to face, for the rest of her life.

  And that would be cold comfort, but it was the only kind of comfort she was going to be able to get her hands on, clearly.

  Feeling resolute, though not especially thrilled about her goal here, she kept walking. The faster she walked, the warmer she got — the heat of the alcohol was beginning to wear off a little, but thankfully the exertion of her walk was taking over, keeping the edge off the cold. She was dressed warmly in several layers, including her jacket — one of the remaining anchors she had to the real world, to her own time. A jacket that had been designed on a computer, made in a factory that was probably largely automated… a jacket that was a reminder of where she'd come from. She pulled it tightly around her shoulders, feeling protective of it.

  The mist was getting thicker and thicker, and she was beginning to lose the gumption that drinking the wine had given her. The night was dark and cold, and she was acutely aware that she was alone out here… and more to the point, that nobody knew
where she was going. What if she got lost for real out here? It was freezing cold, and only getting colder… there was a very real chance she wouldn't survive the night. Feeling a little uneasy but unwilling just yet to turn back and head for the castle again, she lingered in place for a while… then her attention was drawn by a soft bleat. That was funny… hadn't she run into sheep on her first night wandering these blasted moors? Smiling to herself, she wandered in the direction of the bleating. Sheep meant shepherds… and shepherds would be able to point her in the direction of a farmhouse, maybe, where she could beg for a warm spot to sleep then press on in the morning, when she could actually see, and wasn't likely to freeze to death. A good plan, she decided, the alcohol wearing off a little, but not completely.

  That was strange. The sheep were still baa-ing and bleating, and she could have sworn they almost sounded… worried. Were they frightened of her?

  "Shh, shh," she said aloud, staring helplessly through the fog. She could barely see a few feet in front of her — where were these sheep? She could hear them bleating all around her, but she couldn't see the blasted things. "It's okay, sheepy babies. I'm your friend, I promise. Not gonna eat you up like a bear." God, she sounded a lot more drunk than she felt, she realized with an amused smile twisting her lips upwards. That was a bit of a worry. It was hard to tell just how strong wine was in this place… she'd always been fine with a bottle or so, but was it possible that Scottish wine was stronger than what she was used to? Was it possible that she'd made a deeply stupid choice by coming out here?

  That was a worrying thought. But before she could give it any more consideration, the question of where the sheep were was answered for her. They all came rushing past her at great speed, a few of them almost knocking straight into her as they fled, the mist stirred up by their frantic passage past her. She realized why the sight was familiar, the sheep fleeing past her, with an odd feeling that was almost but not quite like déjà vu. This had happened to her before, the sheep running past, the thick mist… she looked straight up, one hand reaching up to feel the roof of the cave above her… but it caught only air. But still, she'd remembered it. This was what her dream had been like. The sheep had gone running past her in the cave… and then…

  Panic gripped her heart as she looked straight ahead, through the mist. Part of her was desperately hoping to be wrong, praying that she wouldn't see what she was deeply, sickly sure that she was about to see. Sure enough… there it was. Just a shape, outlined in the fog. The shape of a huge stooped-over human form, emaciated and skeletal. From this distance, she couldn't see its stringy white hair, but she knew it was there, hanging around its face… hiding its shiny black eyes, its jaw full of jagged teeth… was it coming this way? She felt like she was frozen to the spot, as though the soles of her feet had melted into the very soil of the moors… her heart was pounding as the figure shifted and moved in the mist. Was it coming closer? Or was the fog just playing tricks on her? This couldn't be happening, not really… any moment now, she was going to wake up, safe in her bed back at the castle, or even better, back at the bed and breakfast. Maybe that was what had happened. She'd fallen asleep on the bed after her shower, despite how determined she'd been to stay awake, and all of this foolishness had been a particularly vivid dream brought on by the combination of exhaustion and overdoing the coffee…

  No, she realized as the mist danced and swayed. None of this was a dream. This was as real as it got… as real as the cool wet touch of the mist on her face, as real as the shuffling footsteps she could make out coming closer and closer to her across the moor, as real as the pounding of her heart and the terror screaming in her veins. This was happening. There was nothing she could do about it. The monster, whatever it was, was about to come face to face with her. She had no weapon, nothing to protect herself with.

  And just as she took a deep breath to ready herself for what was coming… the mist parted, and there stood the creature.

  This time, it wasn't startled by her presence there. Its black eyes peered straight at her, curious, almost seeming to glow slickly in the moonlight. She could see its wrinkled face, the way the skin sagged and hung from its bones… it looked almost human, that was what was so awful about it. It was the little touches that made it inhuman, that made it frightening… the too-long fingernails, dripping in gore, metallic in their sheen. The jaw full of not-quite-human teeth. The sound of its breath, whistling and wheezing through its jaws. The way its shoulders were hunched, its torso longer than a normal human's, twisted and stretched in such a way to make it seem truly monstrous. And around its waist hung a bizarre skirt made of animal skins. Was it bigger than it had been? There — a new skin had been added, stitched poorly onto the other ones. Why, it almost looked as though it was dripping with fresh blood, half-dried on the creature's shabby clothing…

  She was so distracted by the creature's clothing that she didn't see it raising one paw, covered in metallic talons, until it was almost at her face — for all the world as though the monster was reaching out to caress her cheek. She screamed and jolted backwards, stumbling away from it, all the adrenaline and fear suddenly catching up with it. Once she'd screamed once, she couldn't help but scream again, and again, hearing her voice echo across the windswept moors, knowing deep down in her gut that nobody was hearing her. She was completely, utterly alone… with a monster that was going to gut her with those talons the way she'd seen it gut a baby lamb. It was shambling closer to her and she scrambled back, screaming so loudly she could feel her throat burning, unable to stop herself even if her life had been dependent on it. She could barely hear anything else over her screams, the drumming of her heart, almost like hoofbeats… was she dying? Or was that a light in the distance?

  Shock replaced her fear. She wasn't imagining it — that was a light. The light of a torch, held high above a man on horseback, galloping to her aid… no, not one man. Three. Three of them, all clad in MacClaran tartan, all wielding torches. They were maybe forty yards to the east and closing fast — the creature looked up at them, uttering an unearthly hiss as it saw the naked flame of their torches. She heard a familiar voice shouting and realized with a shock that the man at the front of the triangle of horsemen was Brendan. Could it really be him? How had he found her out here? Surely he was safe and sound in the village somewhere — but no, it was him. She saw him lower the torch, reach into some kind of storage pouch at his back — realized belatedly that he was drawing an arrow, fitting it to the bow he was carrying in the other arm. With a roar, he loosed the arrow… and the creature looming above her screamed as it thudded into its torso, somewhere around where its shoulder should have been. Hissing and shrieking, it recoiled, shambling away into the mist faster than Helena had thought it could move.

  That was strange — if it could move that fast, why hadn't it attacked her faster? It had had plenty of time to kill her before the men had appeared. But she couldn't waste time thinking about that now… she was scrambling to her feet, her heart pounding like a drum in her chest as she watched the horses thunder by, chasing off the creature, the men whooping and shouting as they drove the monster away. Then it was gone, and the men were riding back to her. Sure enough, it was Brendan, riding the chestnut mare she recognized as being one of Marianne's favorites from the stables. His expression was wild, and he was breathing hard, and she had no idea what to say as he leaped down from the back of his horse.

  Thankfully, he spared her the need to talk by pulling her bodily into his arms, wrapping her in a bruising hug that was somehow exactly what she needed. She breathed him in, unbelievably grateful just to be alive but not missing the opportunity to feel what it was like in his arms. It was very good, it turned out. She felt warm, and safe, and protected, and maybe it was the adrenaline or the relief of the near-death experience or just the wine still surging through her, but she felt a little bit turned on, too. Enough to clear her throat hard and lower her eyes when he finally released her, hoping that the deep red blush that had t
o be suffusing her face would be too hard to make out by torchlight.

  "What the hell are you doing out here?" he demanded roughly, shaking her gently where he was still holding her by the shoulders. She took a deep breath, utterly at a loss for how to reply. "It's the middle of the night… do you have any idea how dangerous this is? Even when there's not some creature hunting sheep… you could have gotten lost, you could have frozen to death, you could have —"

  "I know, I know," she said irritably, feeling an irrational flare of anger that she knew was just a reaction to being rightfully called out for acting like an idiot. "It was stupid. I'm sorry. I just…"

  "Where were you even going?"

  "How did you find me?" she demanded, motivated to change the subject — and keenly aware that two strangers were listening in on this conversation, the two guards sitting on their horses and exchanging amused glances as Brendan lectured her. She didn't much fancy explaining that she'd wanted to finally visit the caves she'd come to Scotland to see — not in front of these men. She knew the castle folk could largely be trusted, but what if these men were the exception? She wasn't about to let herself get arrested for witchcraft.

  "I was riding back to the castle from the village around nightfall," he said, glancing over his shoulder at the guards. "These gentlemen kindly informed me that you'd set off for a walk an hour or so earlier and were yet to return. They were worried about you having gotten lost. For good reason too, I'd wager," he added darkly, gesturing irritably around where they are. "You know you're almost to the place I found you when you first arrived here?"

  "Oh wow, they were the same sheep," she said softly, amused by her own foolish trip. "I got pretty far, huh?"