Lost in the Highlands, Volume Two

by Lorraine Beaumont

  “Nay.” He shook his head again. “There must be another way.”

  “No, my Laird.” She laughed again and her voice crackled eerily reminding him of someone else. “Why else would she be here? She is the one you have fallen in love with and now, she must be sacrificed.”

  “Nay, Jillian, I love ye.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he knew what he was saying was no longer true. He loved her at one time, aye, but not now.

  “See,” she taunted. “You have just come to realize what I’ve known all along.”

  Before Gavin could move, or say another word, the monster emerged from the Loch. The scaly head listed back and forth about to strike his lass.

  “Naaaaay….”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  BLOWING ROCK, NORTH CAROLINA

  The Cottage Property- Present Day

  Moonlight poured in from the open curtains, casting an eerie white illumination on Gavin’s face as he stared down at her. There was such pain and yearning in his eyes, she couldn’t quite grasp if she was still dreaming because his expression didn’t make sense to her.

  “What’s wrong?” She lifted her hand to touch his face. His cheek felt wet—had he been crying?

  Before she could ask, he lowered his mouth to hers, ravaging it with his own. As his tongue plundered, the scruff of his beard rasped her face. His kisses were different from what she was used to—they were more harried…rough.

  He pushed her nightgown up, and shoved her legs apart.

  “Gavin,” she gasped, breaking from the forceful kiss; trying to shut her legs at the same time.

  “Please…” It was only one word but he said it with such raw emotion, she could not deny him.

  Relaxing her legs, she let them fall open again.

  Gavin hooked his arms under her knees and pushed upward until her buttocks were lifting off the bed.

  Wiggling, she tried to get her bottom back down.

  “Hold still,” he growled. His erection jutted upward between her thighs, pressing against the sensitive flesh. With one hand still hooked under her knee, he released her other leg and fisted the base of his shaft.

  His breathing was ragged and beads of sweat covered his brow and chest, glistening in the moonlight.

  Pressing her hands down on the bed, she pushed back, trying to put some distance between their bodies. “Gavin!”

  He didn’t seem to hear.

  It was like he was someplace else.

  Gavin, still wrapped in the pain of his dream, jerked her leg upward and thrust forward until he was buried deep between her thighs.

  Hissing out a feral groan, he clenched his buttocks, thrusting again and again, pounding into her warmth like a man possessed.

  He couldn’t stop.

  On and on he continued with his relentless pace until she was writhing beneath him, and screaming out his name.

  Hearing his name brought him back from the brink of desperation and only then was he able to let go.

  With one last forceful thrust, he gave over to the moment. Still shaking from his orgasm, Gavin pulled out from her body and fell onto his back. Still reeling from his orgasm, he pulled her into his arms and held on. In moments, he could hear her even breathing and realized she must have fallen asleep. He laid there for a bit longer, trying to force the remnants of the nightmare from his mind, but it was of no use.

  Gavin gingerly pulled his arm out from under his lass, and sat up. The dregs of the nightmare still hovered on the periphery of his mind like a Spector, waiting to pounce on him when he was unawares. Like it did whilst he was sleeping. He wasn’t sure what had come over him—one moment he was dreaming or was he remembering? He wasn’t even sure any longer. Every thought, or memory he had, seemed to have blurred together into one confusing mess after another. He scrubbed his hands over his face, trying to get his emotions in check. Was that ta be the fate of his lass, if he brought her back? Was his fear for her well-being wreaking havoc with his emotions?

  Was he truly cursed like his father had told him?

  MEMORY

  Greystone Castle, Loch Morar

  “Lad, one day ye will laird of this fine bit o’ rock and when that day comes ye will have ta make difficult decisions.”

  “What kind of decisions, father?” a young Gavin asked.

  “Ye will have ta chose between the people ye love and this place.”

  “Why would I need to choose?”

  “Because ye are cursed. We all are.”

  “Why would we be cursed, father?”

  “It’s a long story lad, one that does not bear repeating right now. Someday, when ye are older, I will explain the curse of Greystone ta ye.”

  “All right, father,” Gavin said.

  His father reached forward and ruffled his hair. “Now get on with ye, and see if ye mother needs help tending ta supper.”

  “Aye, father.” He ran off towards the cook room to do just that.

  ♦

  Gavin expelled a shaky breath as the memory faded. He never did find out about the ‘supposed’ curse of Greystone—because his father died before he told him.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  BLOWING ROCK, NORTH CAROLINA

  The Cottage Property- Present Day

  The following morning when Paige woke, just like in the past, Gavin was already gone from the bed. Rolling over, she glanced at the clock. It was still early, only eight o’clock, but since Gavin was an early riser, she didn’t think much of him being gone.

  Throwing back the comforter, she climbed from the bed and winced a little. Last night came rushing back. She didn’t know what to make of it—he seemed like a different person. As she made her way to the bathroom, she couldn’t help wondering why. Did he have another bad dream? He certainly looked like he had.

  And while his lovemaking was always a bit intense, she had never seen him like he was last night—he seemed to be a man possessed.

  It was almost as if he was another person. Shaking the memory away, she made her way to the bathroom to take a quick shower.

  After the water ran cold, she climbed out of the shower and quickly got dressed, and then made the bed. Tossing her hair up, she left her room to go brew some coffee. She had some orders to pack up and needed to switch out the vases in the kiln with more fairies that she needed to ship out to her online buyers.

  Business was booming, for once, which she was glad for, but she also missed the days when she would go down to the great hall and find the men waiting for her to cook them breakfast. Granted, she didn’t like cooking but it was nice to be needed.

  Of course, like it always did now, a deep sadness accompanied the memory. Since over half the men were now gone, murdered by that filthy traitor, Broderick.

  Still, she couldn’t help but wonder how Callum and Muir were, as well as Alec and Graham. Obviously, they were long dead now, in this time, but if she was back in their time, she couldn’t help but wonder if they would still be residing within the walls of Greystone or would they have already made lives for themselves elsewhere?

  And if they did, were they happy?

  She hoped so.

  Sighing, she pushed those thoughts from her mind and walked over to the counter to fill her cup with coffee. After adding some Sugar in the Raw and some half and half, she lifted her cup and took a sip. As usual of late, her mind drifted back to Callum, Muir, Alec and Graham, wondering what had happened to them.

  With them in mind, she decided to do some investigating on the internet while Gavin was down at the stream, even though a large part of her was tempted to go down there to see what he was doing. It didn’t go unnoticed to her how strange he was acting last night while they made love. Of course, she was using the word ‘love’ loosely.

  Obviously, she was in love with him, but as far as his feelings for her, she was still as much in the dark as she had been in the past.

  Lifting her laptop from the basket, she set it on the table and turned it on.

  While it boote
d up, she went out to the screened porch and quickly switched out the vases for the fairies, then reset the kiln.

  “Good morning, Paige!”

  Paige recognized the disembodied voice at once and leaned to look out the screen door. “Hello.” She waved at Mr. Tomkins as he set a bucket of vegetables on the steps outside the door.

  “I have another bucket of vegetables for you.” He shoved his hand through his white hair and replaced his cap.

  “Great. Thank you.”

  “No problem,” he said.

  “Now, you be sure to take some home for Mrs. Tomkins,” she told him.

  “Thank you.” He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped the sweat from his brow. “She will like that,” he said and put his handkerchief back in the pocket of his tan work trousers.

  “Do you want some coffee?” she asked, opening the screen door. “I just brewed a pot.”

  “No. But thank you. I’ve got to get to town to pick up some more feed for the birds. I keep telling the Misses that they ate just fine before she started feeding them.” He shook his head despondently. “And now she wants me to start buying critter food.” He rolled his eyes.

  “Well, they have to eat, too,” she joked.

  He cut his gray eyes in her direction. “You sound just like her,” he grumbled.

  “Well, they do need to eat,” she said, poking fun.

  “I suppose.” He shook his head. “Well, I better get going.”

  “Mr. Tomkins,” she said, remembering that she was leaving soon. “I will be out of town for a while so just take all the vegetables home until I get back.”

  He frowned. “Are you sure?”

  “Of course, I’m sure. I’d hate for them to go to waste.”

  “Thank you, kindly.” He inclined his head. “I’m sure the Misses will appreciate it.”

  “Oh, and I will make sure you get paid through October as well.”

  He looked relieved. “That’s mighty kind of you. But I understand if you don’t want me to come…”

  “Nonsense.” She waved her hand, cutting him off. “It’s the least I can do for you taking care of everything while I am gone.”

  “Do you know when you will be back?” He shoved his hand in his pocket, jangling his change.

  “No. Not yet.”

  “Oh.” His frown deepened.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. It’s none of my business, as the Misses would say.”

  “Come now, Mr. Tomkins. We are more than employer and employee, we are friends.”

  “Well, I was just wondering if your leaving has to do with that fellow you brought back with you?”

  She was surprised he even knew about Gavin. “Yes.”

  “Well…” He shifted his eyes to the side. “Is he a good man?”

  “Yes,” she said, even though she couldn’t help but wonder why Mr. Tomkins asked such a thing. “Why?”

  “Well…” he began and then shook his head. “ Nothing.”

  “Come now, Mr. Tomkins. Surely, you can tell me.”

  “Well,” he hemmed. “It’s just that he seems a might odd, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

  Paige burst out laughing. She couldn’t help it. “He’s from Scotland.”

  “Oh.” He looked relieved. “That explains it.”

  “Explains what?”

  “Why he carries a sword with him everywhere he goes, fighting with imaginary creatures and such. And he talks to himself, too.” He shook his head. “Not just a word or two, but entire conversations.”

  Paige tried not to laugh at his expression. Apparently, Mr. Tomkins was a mite put out with Gavin’s behavior.

  “I’ll tell you this, too,” he said, suddenly. “He takes a dip in the stream, afterwards.” He rolled his eyes heavenward, like he couldn’t believe such a thing.

  “He does?” Of course, she already knew that.

  “Yes. And I’ll tell you something else.” He widened his eyes, and leaned in conspiratorially. “He swims…naked.”

  Her face flamed. Not from what he said but the fact that he knew about it. And if he saw Gavin swimming naked, did he also see her with him? Having sex? “Oh. Well, um…”

  “It’s just seems odd.” He shook his head disparagingly.

  “It’s a custom,” she blurted.

  He seemed to ponder her lie for a moment. “Hmm, well, that’s seems to be an odd custom.”

  Not knowing what else to say, she shrugged her shoulders.

  He scratched his head. “Well,” he exhaled. “Who am I to judge,” he muttered. “I’m the one spending all my hard-earned money on bird and squirrel food.”

  “I am sure it’s nice to watch them,” she said.

  “Humph,” he grunted. “I don’t much care for birds and squirrels,” he grumbled.

  “Oh.” She didn’t know what to say to that.

  “Well, I better get. You have a safe trip. Don’t worry about your place, I will keep an eye on it for you.” He picked up the bucket of vegetables, and then made his way back down the stairs.

  “Thank you,” she called after him and shut the screen door.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  LOCH MORAR, SCOTLAND

  Sometime during the reign of King James

  Thirteen highlanders, now free, if one could call it that, gathered in a semi-circle on a ridge not too far away from Loch Morar. A cold wind blew in from the north. Gavin pushed up in his saddle and looked across the strip of land that separated one piece of land from the other. Large boulders were scattered about, as well as trees that twisted in awkward angles from the harsh winds.

  “Why do ye ken the gypsy wanted us to come up here?” Callum asked.

  Muir scratched his head. “I canna say but it is preferable ta that stinking pit we were in, aye?”

  “Aye, I agree.” Callum nodded.

  Gavin glanced over at Callum and then at the other men. Five he knew: Callum, Muir, Morgan, Alec and Graham, they were his men but the other six he had no idea where they came from or what they were incarcerated for. Still, he could not let them die, so he had bargained for their lives with the witch as well. He only hoped he didn’t make a mistake.

  Callum cleared his throat. His horse shifted uneasily as he tightened his hold on the reins. “Do ye ken what we are looking for?”

  “The gypsy said ta wait here,” Gavin responded. It was true. That is what she said. She said a lot of other things as well. “When the bridge appears before us, we are ta cross it ta the other side and retrieve what she has left for us.”

  “What do ye ken will be waiting for us on the other side?” Callum asked, looking skeptical.

  “I can no say for certain but I think we are retrieving a person.”

  Callum looked around at the desolate landscape. “How’d ye suppose they are going ta get here?”

  “Bloody Hell, Callum!” Gavin exclaimed. “How am I supposed to know that?”

  Callum’s face reddened. “Well, ye are the laird. Ye should know.”

  “Well, I don’t,” Gavin snapped.

  Callum made a face and turned back towards Muir. “Psst, Muir?”

  Muir, in the midst of picking a scab off his hand, reluctantly lifted his gaze to Callum. “What?”

  “Did ye hear that?”

  “Aye.”

  “Well?” Callum gaped at Muir. “What do ye think about all this nonsense o’ waiting?”

  “I think ye ask too many questions.”

  “Och, Muir, ye are lying.”

  “Nay.” Muir shook his head solemnly back and forth. “I’m no liar Callum. I would only be lying if told ye I cared what ye think.”

  “Well, ye should.” Irritated, Callum turned his horse around, so the backside was facing Muir.

  ♦

  Gavin rubbed his forehead and sighed. He neglected to tell the men that the ‘supposed’ gypsy was really a witch. And that by doing her bidding he was likely damning his soul as well as theirs. But at least they
were free, for now; he would figure out how to get them out of this mess later—or so he told himself repeatedly.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  BLOWING ROCK, NORTH CAROLINA

  The Cottage Property- Present Day

  After saying goodbye to Mr. Tomkins, Paige made her way back into the kitchen and poured another cup of coffee. Repeating her earlier ritual, she added sugar and cream, stirring it until a nice froth was on the top. To delay the inevitable, she tried to think of what else she could be doing. Laundry, cleaning toilets, sorting socks, scrubbing floors, attempting to cook, anything other than what she knew she should be doing, which was to look up what happened to Gavin’s men.

  Dragging her reluctant feet, she forced herself to walk back over to the table. She sat down in front of her computer. Taking a deep breath, she typed in, Scottish Clans, Grey.

  Moments later a number of results popped up with the color of their plaids, lineage, etc. There wasn’t anything overly useful, though.

  Sighing, she took another sip of her coffee and set it back down. On a whim, she typed in monster, Loch Morar. She really didn’t think she would find much but to her astonishment, she did find something.

  According to the article, a researcher discovered early writings on the creature, which was considered the lesser known cousin of the Loch Ness monster or as some like to call her, Nessie.

  And it was said, if someone saw this monster of Loch Morar, it was seen as an omen for death. Some even went as far to say that the monster itself changed forms; some saw it as an old woman. Some saw it as a half- human- half fish, a mermaid type creature and a few others would see it as a monster, just like Nessie. But in every event, no matter who told the story, each sighting was still considered an omen for death.

  Taking another sip of coffee, she slowly read the post, digesting the information that was relayed in the article.