Outlaw Highlander: A Scottish Time Travel Romance (Highlander's Time Book 3)

by Blanche Dabney

  “This was the main living area,” Tavish said. “I remember ma father sitting me on his knee by that window, looking out at the village green. The trees were always full of apples in ma memory. This way.”

  He led her back into the hallway and she stopped at the foot of the stairs. “What?” he asked, watching her run her hand up the newel post.

  “The carving,” she said. “It’s beautiful.”

  He looked at the intricate Celtic swirls, the paint long faded. “My grandfather made it.”

  “He was a talented man.” She smiled to herself. That would be the perfect tribute to Tavish. She would recreate that design when they rebuilt the staircase.

  She followed him up the stairs, admiring each baluster as she went. “It was the Sinclair symbol,” Tavish said, seeing where she was looking.

  “An S that repeats,” she replied. “I see it.”

  He raised his eyebrows before turning away and vanishing through another door. “There’s not much upstairs in my time,” she said when she caught up with him.

  “This was my room,” he said. “It’s a rare thing to have your own room, you ken? Ma grandfather kept the bairns in here while he was next door with his missus.”

  “It’s nice seeing it with a roof on.”

  The plaster had crumbled in both rooms, but they still maintained a hint of their former warmth. It didn’t take long for Tavish to clear the fireplace of debris.

  “Chimney here,” she said.

  “We were the first tae have one. Only the castles have them around here.”

  “And the monasteries,” Lindsey replied. “Or is that in a couple of years?”

  “Ah dinnae ken,” he said. “What matters is that this will keep ye warm tonight. Ah’ll get the logs if you get the kindling.”

  They went back downstairs together and headed outside. Lindsey began looking for dry twigs, not an easy task in the dark. She found herself continually glancing back at the house, comparing it to how it looked in her time.

  It was a strange sight, seeing it still with all four walls and the thatched roof. The straw had slipped in places, but it would be a fair while before it fell away to expose the interior.

  When she had two armfuls of kindling, she returned to the smaller of the two bedrooms, surprised to see Tavish already there.

  “You move quietly,” she said, dumping the kindling at his feet. “I didn’t hear you come back.”

  “I’ve stuffed the bed with fresh straw and found a couple of blankets for ye.” He turned away and began piling up kindling in the fireplace. His expression when he’d told her about the blankets made it look as if he was daring her to thank him.

  She didn’t, not wanting to embarrass him but silently she was grateful he’d gone to so much effort.

  In no time at all the chill was gone from the room. Lindsey nestled in the straw, her cloak wrapped around her.

  “I must find some way of washing tomorrow,” she said to herself, the low light of the fire doing little to hide the buildup of grime on her skin.

  “There’s a loch near here,” Tavish said.

  “Did I say that out loud?”

  “Aye lass, though you look clean enough to me.”

  “That’s because it’s dark in here.”

  “Ah see well enough. Are ye hungry?”

  “Famished.”

  “I brought carrots from this morning and I set some traps while we were getting the fire going. Keep an eye on the fire.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” She lay back in the straw, her eyes closing. Her head ached from crying and she found herself wondering what her mom was up to at that moment. She was just downstairs, only a few feet away. And yet she might as well have been on another planet.

  She had no idea how long Tavish was gone, but she must have fallen asleep as she stirred to the sight of him nudging the fire back into life.

  “Sorry,” she said before her eyes were even open. “I must have nodded off.”

  “It’s nay bother,” he replied, sitting on the edge of the bed, his hands pointed toward the fire. “Two rabbits soon cooked.”

  Lindsey was surprised by how loudly her stomach started growling as the smell of cooking filled the room.

  “You miss your mother,” Tavish said out of nowhere. “Don’t you?”

  “I do,” she replied. “I hope she’s all right.”

  He grabbed the rabbits from the spit and passed one to her. “Let it cool,” he said, tearing a chunk from his own, steam billowing from his mouth.

  “Have you got a cast iron stomach?” she asked. “How is that not burning you?”

  He shrugged. “Ye can get used to anything given enough time.”

  “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to how dark it is here.”

  “It’s no dark. We've got the light from the fire.”

  “I mean outside. I can’t see a thing out there. In my time, there’s always the glow of a town somewhere nearby but here, nothing. It’s quiet too. I’m not used to that either.”

  His dark eyes fixed on her. “Do the books say anything about my mother?”

  She shook her head. “Very little. What was she like?”

  “She died giving birth to me. Ah never knew her. All ma father told me was she loved bluebells because they flowered all the way into summer up here. That’s the carving above your bed there. A circle o’ bluebells.”

  Lindsey glanced up at the ceiling. It looked as if just talking about it pained him and she was glad for an excuse to look away and let him compose himself.

  She found herself dying to hug him like he’d done to her outside, comfort him, tell him it would be all right.

  “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

  “I never have told anyone. I dinnae ken. Mebbe it’s because you’re not from here but ah dinnae mind talking to ye. My father took good care of me and ah’ve let him down. This is ma chance to make it right.

  “It was because of him that ah became a sword master, a teacher of war to the wee bairns at Castle Sinclair. He sacrificed everything to get me up the ladder toward laird and how did ah repay him?” He almost spat the words out. “I took to banishment like a fish to water. Ah should have fought them all.”

  “You couldn’t fight an entire clan, not when everyone was against you.”

  “Billy, Jock, and Matthew weren’t against me. For all I knew, there might have been more. He’s in the dungeon and ah might no see him again if this doesnae work.”

  “It will work, you’ll see.”

  He picked up a carrot and tore the end off, chewing it slowly.

  Lindsey ate the rest of her rabbit in silence, laying down the bones next to the bed, a huge yawn spreading across her face, the natural result of being so close to such a warm fire. She sagged down onto her back on the bed.

  “It’ll be all right,” she said. “I came back here for a reason. I know it’s to help you.”

  “And your mother,” Tavish replied. “Ah put Margaret’s locket under the fireplace downstairs. It shouldnae be hard to find.”

  “You didn’t have to,” Lindsey said, craning her neck to look at him. He’d crossed to the doorway and was looking back at her.

  “Ah ken what it’s like to lose a parent,” he said before disappearing into the darkness.

  Lindsey lay back on the straw, listening to it rustle under her. She didn’t hear a thing from the other room all night.

  The fire snapped and crackled as the logs began to burn down. As her eyes closed, she thought about what he’d said and done for her. She could go home now. She knew where the locket was.

  It would all be fine. They could sell it and do up the house. She’d finally be able to see her mom living in comfort for the first time ever.

  Not yet, she told herself. First, she had a promise to keep. She was going to get the sacred stone for him, see him reunited with his father. She might never have known hers, but she knew well enough the desire to help a parent.

&
nbsp; That was the main thing they had in common. They’d both lost one parent and wanted to do what was right for the other. He had helped her, it was time to do the same.

  She wondered if she could do something to say thank you for hiding the locket. An idea came to her and she fell asleep with a smile playing across her lips.

  8

  The next morning Tavish awoke early. He’d never found it easy to settle but being back in his old house had made it even harder.

  He lay back on what used to be his parents’ bed, half expecting them to come in and throw him out, ask him why he wasn’t in his own bedroom.

  He had lain back in the darkness, listening to the quiet breathing of Lindsey as she slept. She had that bad dream again, whatever it was that had disturbed her before.

  He’d tiptoed through when she started moaning, shushing her quietly and holding her in his arms until she settled again. He refused to look at her as he comforted her.

  If he looked at her, he knew what would happen. That weird feeling would bubble up again, the one he was determined to ignore.

  Once he was sure she was calm he returned to his own bed and finally fell asleep, dreaming he was back home. He should have known at once it was a dream. His father was there. The house was crumbling due to a mist running through it.

  The mist made holes appear wherever it struck, gaps in the ceiling that let in the daylight, holes in the floor. He was in his room playing with a wooden sword when he heard voices. He headed across the hall and found his parents talking. Neither of them noticed he was there.

  “You have tae tell him,” his mother was saying.

  “I cannae,” his father replied.

  He lost the words as he stared at his mother. He’d never seen her, only heard her described by his father. Yet, he knew it was her. There was no doubt about it. She was beautiful, tall, hair tied in a coif, dress made of warm wool, tartan sash across her chest, locket around her neck.

  She turned, noticing him standing there. “Hello, bonny boy,” she said, kneeling down in front of him. “Haven’t you grown so big since I last saw you?”

  “Mother,” he replied, his voice trembling. “Is that really you?” Mist rolled between them, her face becoming harder to see.

  Her smile faded as the mist began to swallow her, a tear rolling down her cheek. “I dinnae have long. The stone will save the clan. You must return it. Quinn was right. She is the key. Protect her.”

  “I will, mother. I’m on my way. Are you really here?”

  “I’m not as far away as you think. Tell your father I lo…”

  The mist swallowed her up and then he was sitting up in bed, his heart pounding. He glanced around him. There was mist, rolling in through the shutterless window.

  It was only a dream. She hadn’t been there. He had imagined the whole thing.

  He was on his feet a moment later. It might have been a dream, but he couldn’t shake the idea that retrieving the stone was the key to everything.

  The MacIntyres had stolen it a generation ago, besieging Castle Sinclair for months, grinding down the occupants. In the dead of night, a dozen of them had sneaked in and taken the stone.

  The morale of the defenders had crumbled and the Sinclair Clan had paid dearly for that loss over the years, losing land and people to wars they should have easily defended.

  With the English pushing at the borders and the Bruce still warring over Balliol’s accession to the throne, the Sinclairs needed a symbol, something to bring them together and make them strong.

  The stone would do it. He would bring it back to them. Getting Lilias to tell the truth wasn’t important. Clearing his name wasn’t important. What motivated him to get moving was finally having someone who could help get the stone back where it belonged.

  He went through to wake Lindsey up. Her room was empty.

  Where was she?

  He ran over to the window and looked out. She’d run off, of course, no doubt to tell the MacIntyres he was coming. Could he catch her in time?

  He sprinted down the stairs and outside in time to see her walking across the grass, something in her arms. Were they fish?

  “I found the loch,” she said, smiling as she approached him.

  “Ah see you caught some fish.”

  “I borrowed your knife, I hope you don’t mind.”

  He felt for his hip. The knife wasn’t there. “When did you take that?”

  “This morning. I was going to ask but you were fast asleep.”

  “You came into my room and stole my knife without waking me?”

  “Are you angry?”

  He couldn’t help smiling. “No one has ever managed to do that, not in all the training I did with the clan. You must be quieter than the morning mist.”

  “Here,” she said, passing him the knife and almost dropping the fish as she did so. “I used it for the hook and for…well, let’s get some breakfast going shall we?”

  “I’ll get some more kindling.”

  “Already done, did it before I went fishing.”

  “How did you have time? When did you wake up?”

  “Just before dawn. I know this is going to sound crazy, but I woke up hearing a woman talking in your room. I came to look but there was just you, fast asleep.

  “I thought seeing as I was up, I might as well go look for that loch you were talking about. It’s really beautiful over there, I can see why you lived here.”

  “I didnae have a choice. Did you see the village? Is it rebuilt?”

  Her shoulders sagged slightly and she looked down at the ground before looking back up at him. “Empty and burned I’m afraid.”

  “When word o’ the plague gets out, some think fire’s the only cure. Is it ever rebuilt in the future?”

  She shook her head. “There’s no village there in my time. Just this house and then the forest below.”

  “What’s done is done. Let’s get the fire going. We have a long journey ahead of us today. Take ma flint while ah feed the horse.”

  She headed inside while he led the horse over to a lush patch of grass. He left it to eat, heading back to the house. He was almost inside when he decided to go see the village for himself. He wasn’t sure why he even wanted to go.

  It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her, he did. It was more that he wanted to say a final goodbye to the place. If it was never rebuilt it would soon return to the earth.

  The only thing that would be left was his memory of it.

  He climbed the ridge and scrambled down the far side, pushing through the trees until he came out into the open.

  The village itself was in a natural amphitheater. To the left was the loch, drifting far north and wide, sparkling in the morning light, the ripples in the wind reminding him of the movement of chainmail just before battle, shimmering and catching the eye.

  Around the loch were tall crags of mountains, snowcapped and steep, sprigs of heather creating spots of color here and there but otherwise gray and brown, curlews flying low, swooping over the loch.

  He didn’t want to look right but he could only look at the water for so long. Finally, taking a deep breath, he turned his head.

  He prepared himself mentally as much as he could, but it was still a shock. The village he’d known so well was nothing but a blackened ruin.

  The cleansing fire had long burned out. Nothing grew there. The crumbling foundations of few buildings remained amongst the black and gray dead land. It was a place of decay.

  And yet there was a flash of color down there. What was that?

  He walked down, thinking of the people he’d known when he was younger. There was the baker, Tam and his wife, crossing from Ireland as a bairn, settled thirty years, wee un on the way. All of them gone in the first weeks.

  The tailor, red beard and fierce eyes on old Damos, yelling at him every time he passed that he needed to take better care of his tartan, that it brought shame on the clan. Gone.

  The children he’d played with. Little Sash
a, the oldest of their group, the one he’d had an irredeemable crush on, the one he planned to marry when he hit the ripe old age of five.

  Her death had been the first one. She’d been with her father to market and come back talking about a beggar they’d met on their return, how he’d hidden his face but when he held out his hand for alms they’d seen the buboes on his wrist.

  It had been too late by then to do anything. She told Tavish but he didn’t tell anyone. He kept it to himself. All of this was his fault. If he’d only told his father, they could have isolated Sasha and her father before it was too late, prayed for God to help purify the village.

  It was all his fault. He’d killed them all. He almost staggered as he walked down what was the main road to the village green. All dead because of him. No matter what he did to save the clan, he had killed an entire village.

  He got closer to the green and had to wipe his eyes before he could see what was there, his vision blurring slightly.

  Then he saw it. Kneeling down where the entrance to the chapel had been, he saw it and he knew at once who’d done it.

  He turned and marched back out of the village, not stopping for breath before he was back at the house, panting slightly as he marched inside and found her pulling the fish from the spit. “Are you hungry?” she asked.

  “Did ye do it?” he asked, ignoring the fish.

  “What? Why are you so angry?”

  “Answer me. Did ye do it?”

  “Do what?”

  “The village green. The carving, it was ye wasn’t it?”

  She blushed, unable to look him in the eye. “You weren’t supposed to see that. Are you angry?”

  “Angry?” he said, sitting in the chair opposite her. “You placed a carving of my mother with a wreath of bluebells on sacred ground and you think I might be angry?”

  “Please, don’t be cross. It was just meant to be a tribute to your mom. I know it’s weird but when I saw you asleep I had a vision of what she looked like. It was like she was standing right where you are now, so close I could see the coloraturas of her eyes. The carving was easy. I marked it with an S for Sinclair, like the one on the stairs.”