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

by Rebecca Preston

  It was rather pleasant in the stables, in the end. She paused by one of the stalls to stroke the nose of the black mare she'd been riding, Brendan smiling fondly as he told her that most of the castle's children had learned to ride on that particular mare. They continued walking through the gloom of the stables until they reached an enormous haystack at the back, sweet smelling and fragrant. Brendan pulled up a couple of stools for them and they sat in the peace and quiet of the stables, listening to the rain drumming steadily on the roof. With the weather so bad, it seemed nobody was interested in going out for a ride — which meant nobody would disturb them here. She was acutely aware of being alone with Brendan — of the unfinished business of the kiss they'd shared… but still, there was something wrong. He seemed to sense it, reaching out to take her hand in his with a concerned look on his face.

  "Is everything alright, Helena? You seem… a little distracted, perhaps. Did Weatherby throw you off?"

  "Oh, no," she shrugged dismissively, thinking of the pompous English lord. "I know plenty of men like that. They're a pain in the ass, but easy enough to handle once you get the hang of it."

  Brendan chuckled, clearly amused by her turn of phrase. "A pain in the ass," he said experimentally. "I like that one."

  "Don't teach it to Jamie," she instructed him, pointing at him warningly. "If Audrina hears him saying it she's going to blame me, and then it'll all be over." She sighed. "No, Weatherby's not the problem. It's all this… this magical stuff."

  "The Black Annis?"

  "All of it!" She bit her lip, a little embarrassed by how emotional she was feeling. "It's just… I've always been a science person, you know? I studied geology because I wanted to know how the world worked — the actual world, the earth beneath our feet. My whole life's been about finding explanations for stuff that used to be written off as… you know, the gods being angry, that kind of thing. There's always been a rational explanation for this stuff. And then suddenly… what, I time travel to medieval Scotland? Just out of nowhere, that's what happens to me?"

  Brendan sighed, squeezing her hand tightly. She appreciated the comfort… but her mind was still elsewhere.

  "I just… I don't think I can handle any more like this. Just being here is taking up all of my ability to cope… and on top of that I have to adjust my whole worldview to include time travel, and curses, and witches, and women with supernatural powers… I mean, Marianne and Fiona are literally witches. What the hell does that mean? What am I supposed to do with that? Just deal with it? And now… now, there's some kind of fairytale monster that eats sheep and children. Great. You all seem super fine and cool with it, but I'm just… I'm just not, that's all." She buried her head in her hands, realizing that her eyes were full of tears. "I can't make adjustments this fast, Brendan. I can't just… change, that fast. Rocks don't change this fast. I'm — I'm a rock person."

  "No you're not," Brendan said softly, and suddenly he was beside her, crouching next to the stool she was sitting on so he could wrap his arms around her. "You're not a rock person. You're made of flesh and blood, Helena Crane, and you're far, far stronger than you think you are. Stronger than anyone I've met. You traveled hundreds of miles to be here — then you traveled hundreds of years to be here now. It's been barely more than a week, Helena. It takes me a month to adjust to a new pair of boots, and you expect a whole new world to be comfortable in a week?"

  She couldn't help but laugh at that. His arms felt so good around her… so warm and solid, so reassuring… she almost wanted to fall asleep here. Or she would have, if the rest of her body wasn't so alive with desire, so full of very inappropriate ideas for how they could spend the rest of this very strange afternoon…

  "You're right," she said softly, breaking away to look up at him. "You're right, I just have to be patient with myself." Helena took a deep breath, trying to still her racing heart. He was so close to her… his breath against her lips, his arms still firmly around her, holding her close, not trapping her but beseeching her to move closer to him… and she was only human, wasn't she?

  When she kissed him it felt like the tide coming in, rushing around and knocking all her walls down in one fell swoop. Before long she was clinging to him, her arms wrapped around his neck, her lips against his, the heat of their breath mingling as the rain drummed louder and louder on the roof. They were completely alone — no grooms in the stable, just the soft sounds of the horses moving in their stalls to distract them… and she felt a thrill down her spine as she realized that for all of the passion she'd been keeping secret from him, he'd clearly been doing the same with his feelings for her. He was clinging to her like a drowning man, his lips hot against hers, crushing her against him as though he was afraid he'd lose her..

  For a moment, she felt a pang of worry steal through her. What if he thought she was Brigid, again? What if he wasn't kissing her, but instead a memory of his dead wife — using her, again, as some kind of stand-in for his lost love? She couldn't handle that. Not now — not feeling as vulnerable as she did, as lost, as completely out of energy and resources for what this strange new world was throwing at her… but even as she broke away, petrified that he was going to whisper Brigid's name into her ear, she looked into his blue eyes and knew without him even saying anything that it was her he was kissing, not his lost wife.

  "Helena," he breathed, and the sound of her name on his lips was the most beautiful thing she'd ever heard. "I — I have to say, I —"

  "I know," she murmured. "I know you're not thinking of her. It's okay."

  A smile broke out across his face and he pulled her into his arms again, hugging her close, and she laughed, suddenly full of dizzying joy. She was about to throw herself into his arms again when she heard the sound of footsteps and pulled back. Clearly frustrated by her sudden denial of him, he tried to draw her to him, and she cleared her throat hard as she saw a figure approaching them — Brendan got the message and broke away from her quickly, both of them breathing hard as they resumed their original seats and tried to regain their composure.

  "Brendan? Is that you, sir?"

  It was one of the young lads of the castle — Helena vaguely recognized him from seeing a handful of young boys training with swords a few days ago. He'd been up in the front, his energy making up for his clumsiness. He had a worried look on his wide face and his green eyes were full of concern, and a little of her irritation at the interruption fell away as she realized that he was sincerely worried about something.

  "It's me," Brendan said blankly. "What's the matter, lad?"

  "It's Jamie. He asked me to come find you. Said he wanted to come himself, but we all know he's not well, so I told him to stay inside."

  "Is he alright?" Brendan was on his feet, clearly worried about the young man. "Did you fetch his mother if he's unwell? Audrina knows how to —"

  "He's safe, he's safe," the boy said quickly. "He said to say he's not sick at all, but he needs to talk to you straight away about something or other, and to go as quick as you can."

  "Alright," Brendan said, frowning as he cast a longing look over his shoulder at Helena. "I'd best go and see what the lad needs. It's not like him to summon me like this. You can run along now," he added to the boy, who nodded firmly then turned on his heel and sprinted off, heedless of the rain that was now pouring heavily into the courtyard. Brendan sighed as he looked at her wistfully.

  "We'd better go check on Jamie," Helena said, amused by the look on his face.

  "I'd much rather continue our discussion here, if I'm honest," he said in a low voice that sent her heart fluttering in her chest.

  "So would I. But duty calls." She frowned, thinking fast. "What if it has something to do with the Annis?"

  "I can't imagine it would," Brendan said doubtfully. "Jamie doesn't know anything about any of that. More than likely he's just found something in one of those books he wants to talk about. Though we've got a lesson scheduled this afternoon," he said with a frown. "It seems unlike him to be
so impatient."

  They linked arms and walked back toward the castle together, Brendan sheltering her from the rain with the hem of his cloak. It felt unbelievably good to just be at his side — she couldn't help the feeling of joy that kept bubbling up in her chest. He liked her the same way she liked him… and what was even better than that, it seemed he was beginning to get over the confusion with his wife. Obviously it was early days still, and she was itching to talk to the other women about it to get their insight and advice… but still, she felt a lot better about what was going on now than she had a few days ago.

  They reached Audrina's quarters in due time, and the door rocketed open almost the minute that they knocked. Jamie was standing there, and the look on his face told Helena straight away that something was seriously wrong. The boy was almost white with fear, trembling fit to burst, and Brendan rushed in, clearly worried about him.

  "Jamie, what's happened? What's the matter? Are you okay?"

  "No — no, I'm fine," the boy said, his voice shaking but still strong. "It's something else. I — it's going to sound like I'm making it up, or dreaming," he said irritably, pacing back and forth.

  Brendan reached out to catch him gently by the arm, giving him a little shake to catch his attention. "Just sit down, alright? Sit down and take a few deep breaths. You know what happens when you get over-excited, Jamie."

  "I know, I know," the boy said irritably, thumping down into a chair… but he did reach out and take a few resentful sips from a cup of water that was sitting on the table beside him. "Mom's going to think I've been reading too many fairy stories."

  "Mom, is it?" Brendan said, raising an eyebrow. "Is that one of Helena's new expressions?"

  That won a small smile from him… but whatever was weighing on his mind was clearly pretty serious, because it chased that smile away quickly. "I was asleep," he said, taking a deep breath to steady himself. "It was still dark when I woke up. I didn't know why, at first — usually I sleep well past dawn unless someone wakes me up."

  "I'm well aware," Brendan said, sounding amused. "That's why we usually have lessons in the afternoon."

  But the gentle teasing wasn't enough to distract Jamie this time. "Sure. But I realized I knew what it was that had woken me up. I could hear this strange scratching sound, right outside my window. So I got up, went over to the window, and looked outside. I thought it might have been a bird, or something. I took a torch and everything. And then I saw… I saw…"

  He was trembling, and Helena reached out without thinking to touch his shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. He flashed her a quick smile, grateful for the touch, before he continued.

  "I saw a face. A horrible face, with black eyes and a big mouth full of pointy teeth, and this stringy white hair all around it, whipping back and forth in the wind. It was — it was a woman, but not a woman. An evil, twisted old woman."

  "Outside your window?" Brendan asked, his voice low and soothing even though Helena could see how worried he was by what the boy was telling him… by the horrible familiarity of that description… "You're four floors up, lad."

  "I know how silly it sounds," Jamie said, his eyes full of resentment. "Don't you think I know how it sounds? But she was clinging onto the rock with her hands and legs like a spider. I swear I saw it. I swear I'm not making it up, I wasn't even reading those books before bed, I was reading about herbs when I went to sleep — she was there, plain as day."

  "I believe you, Jamie," Brendan said simply.

  The boy looked shocked — and pleased, too, that his tutor believed him.

  "I believe what you saw."

  "It was awful," he continued in a rush, clearly so relieved to be believed that he almost wanted to get the rest of the story out before Brendan could rescind his faith in the veracity of the tale. "She was upside down with her legs up there and her arms down here and her face peering at me all twisted around. She kept grinding her teeth and making this weird hissing noise and then she reached out for me with her horrible claws and I ran back away from her and grabbed the torch — and then by the time I was back at the window, she was gone."

  "Take a breath, lad. Drink some more water," Brendan counseled him gently. His face when he looked up at Helena was full of fear. "Did you say it was this window?"

  "The one by my bed, yes," the boy said in a small voice.

  Brendan strode over to it — she could see him scrutinizing the stone outside the wall.

  "Yes, I see," he said softly, gesturing at the wall. "There's damage to the stone — just little scrapes, but I can see where she was hanging onto it."

  "You really believe me?" Jamie said softly. "I thought you were just going to say it was a fairy tale…"

  "It is a fairy tale," Brendan said simply. "But that doesn't mean it isn't real. Sleep with your window closed tonight, Jamie. And make sure you put a bright, burning torch right by that window, too. She doesn't like bright lights — and so far, she hasn't come through windows if they're closed."

  "You know about her?" Jamie sounded fascinated.

  "We do," Brendan said simply. "And we're going to beat her and make sure she never bothers you again." He looked over at Helena with a smile. "But first, we have to go and visit some witches."

  Chapter 21

  They were just about to leave when Jamie stopped them. He was holding a book in his hand — but it didn't look like one from the library. It didn't have a title, and when he opened it tentatively she realized it was a sketchbook, full of sheets of blank paper. There were sketches on some of the pages, careful pencil drawings, and her eyes widened — they were surprisingly deft drawings, showing a great deal of skill.

  "Those are amazing, Jamie," she said softly as he leafed past a few drawings of birds on the wing. He blushed, clearly pleased by the compliment.

  "Da taught me to draw when I was little, he's really good, even drew Mom pictures of San Francisco," he explained, shrugging his little shoulders. "There's not much else to do when I'm stuck in bed, so I've practiced a lot, I guess. It's not very useful, but… I drew the creature. I thought it might help to have a picture of her."

  "Great idea," Helena said softly. "The more we know, the better." After all, hadn't one of her instincts been to grab her phone out and take a photo of the thing? A drawing was a little less accurate and a lot less instant, but it would still give them something to go on. Still, the drawing that Jamie showed her sent a shudder down her spine. It was eerily realistic… and eerily familiar. There she was, the strange, hag-like monster, her black eyes boring out of the page, her serrated teeth clenched — she could almost hear them grinding. But instead of standing hunched over, this time the creature was spread-eagle on the wall, her talons digging into the stone. A horrific sight to see, to be sure — especially for a sickly child, like Jamie. She looked at him thoughtfully.

  "What is it? Is it any good?"

  "It's great," she said firmly. "You're very brave, Jamie."

  He blinked, clearly taken aback by that. "All I did was draw it."

  "Yeah. You didn't panic — you drew it. I'm impressed. Brendan — have a look," she said, gesturing to Brendan.

  He joined them, peering down at the notebook… then his face folded into a thunderous frown and he stumbled back, shocking her a little with the force of his rejection. "No — no, no —"

  "Brendan, what's wrong?"

  "Is this a joke?" he demanded, suddenly full of anger as he turned to Jamie.

  The boy recoiled, clearly frightened of the sudden fit of rage his tutor was in — Helena, shocked by the turn as well, stepped in between them. The shock and anger on Brendan's face faded immediately, replaced by regret when he realized he was frightening them… but there was still a frightening set to his jaw when he stared down at the page. "Who is this?"

  "It's — it's not anyone," Jamie stammered. "That's the thing — the creature I saw on the wall last night. You said —"

  His voice was shaking, and Helena resisted the urge to pull him into
a hug to comfort him. Why was Brendan being so terrible to the child?

  "You said you believed me!"

  "Aye," Brendan said softly, staring down at the page. "That I did. You didn't…" He swallowed hard. "You weren't thinking of anyone when you drew this?"

  "No. I was thinking of the monster I saw on my wall. Did I do something wrong?" He wanted to know, his voice low and frightened.

  Helena hugged him tight, holding him close to her. "You didn't do anything wrong, Jamie. Nothing at all. Brendan, what's the matter with you?" she demanded, equal parts frightened by his reaction — and angry that he was putting Jamie through such unnecessary stress. But he was miles away, rubbing his face absently as he stared down at the paper, his mind clearly racing.

  "I — this is — Jamie… you wouldn't have met her. It was six years ago that… you were only a child, you…"

  "Brendan, you're scaring me." Jamie blinked at him.

  He looked up at that, clearly concerned, and she narrowed her eyes, her arms still around Jamie to comfort him.

  "Explain. Now," Helena demanded.

  "This is Anne," he said simply, waving the drawing. "This is Brigid's mother. I'd know her anywhere. Her eyes weren't black, and her teeth weren't sharp like that, but… this is her. Are you sure this is what you saw, Jamie?"

  The little boy nodded; his eyes huge. "You — you know her? The monster?"

  "I don't know what I know," he said faintly, sitting down heavily in a chair. "I know what I see here, what I remember… this is Anne, clear as day. I'd know her anywhere."

  "Did Jamie ever meet her?"

  "No," he said, rubbing his face.

  Helena sat beside him, leaving Jamie to join them in a third seat, his blue eyes wide and worried.

  "Now I think about it," she said softly. "When I dreamed about her… she spoke to me. She said strange things about me coming home to her…"