Troubled By The Highlander: A Scottish Time Travel Romance (Highlander Forever Book 6)

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Troubled By The Highlander: A Scottish Time Travel Romance (Highlander Forever Book 6) Page 4

by Rebecca Preston


  Maybe it was the long afternoon nap she'd taken — or maybe it was the knowledge that Connor was sleeping just outside the door to her room — but Karen took a long time to get to sleep that night. She couldn't stop thinking about him lying out there… or about the drunk young men downstairs. What if they did come up to bother her? What if they hurt him? She found herself listening intently, trying to make out the sounds of footsteps on the stairs, bracing herself for the sounds of a fight out there on the landing… and at some point, the effort of listening put her straight to sleep. She woke just after dawn, feeling bleary but reasonably well-rested.

  She dressed quickly, eager to see Connor, to find out if anything had happened — sure enough, when she pulled the door open, there he was, lying right in the doorway with his head pillowed on his rolled-up cloak. He stirred at the sound of the door opening, and blinked those gray eyes up at her, making her heart skip a beat.

  "Any trouble?" she asked gently, and he shook his head, sitting up and rubbing his face with one big hand.

  "Cowards, all six of 'em. Though I did see one or two of them creeping up the stairs. Think they spotted me and changed their minds about it."

  "Thank you so much," she said honestly, wanting to reach out and hug him but a little worried about being too forward… even if part of her didn't give a damn about what anyone thought of them, just wanted him close to her… "I wouldn't have slept a wink without you out here."

  "Of course," he said gently.

  "I owe you one, Connor."

  "I tell you what," he said, his eyes dancing mischievously. "I'll call that favor in right now. Why don't you have breakfast with me?"

  She rolled her eyes. "I can't pay for breakfast. You buying me a meal is hardly me paying you back, Connor." He got to his feet, wincing a little and stretching his stiff muscles. She made a sound of dismay in her throat. "And now you're sore from sleeping on the freezing ground —"

  "Well, if you're offering to rub my aching body down for me," he said, his eyes twinkling — and she was so shocked by the open flirtation that she almost tripped and fell down the stairs.

  Chuckling, he let it go, and they walked down the stairs together, Karen's face still burning furiously. She remembered what the barmaid had said about Connor — about how he was a flirt, a man about town, a playboy… but somehow, knowing that he was this way with all the girls didn't do much to still her beating heart.

  Thomas brought them breakfast — the innkeeper seemed to be everywhere all at once, and he gave them a broad, knowing smile when he brought two steaming bowls of oatmeal out of the kitchen in the back. Too late, she realized what it must have looked like — the two of them coming downstairs together — but Thomas was already gone, and she blushed furiously, hardly daring to meet Connor's eyes for fear of what she might find there. But Connor only laughed.

  "It's alright, lass. I'll explain to him that nothing happened. A strictly honorable night all around. You needn't worry about word spreading."

  "I mean, not that I mind, or anything, I just…" She took a deep breath, trying to get control of herself. Focusing on work had usually helped her get over awkward interactions with attractive men… but she was loath to bring up cowpox over breakfast. It was a pretty unpleasant disease, and while med school had thoroughly drummed any leftover squeamishness out of her, she didn't want to spoil his breakfast. So, she asked him how the disease had been spreading.

  "We first noticed it a few weeks back. It's gone through herds before, but I don't recall it being shared with the milkmaids before." He tilted his head, looking curious. "Your work, in the future — it concerns diseases like this one, doesn't it? Do you know much about it?"

  She smiled, swallowing her mouthful of porridge hastily. "I do. It's one I've studied, for… for a few reasons, actually. It has some historical significance."

  "You were speaking yesterday about ways of stopping it from spreading. Why don't you fill me in? I can start spreading the word to the villagers, letting them know how to avoid the thing."

  "That's a great idea," she said, smiling at him. Getting the word out to the villagers early — before the disease had started spreading in earnest — would be the best course of action. That was what they hadn't quite managed to pull off in Tunisia… the disease had spread quickly before many quarantine measures could be put in place. "From what I remember, it spreads mostly through contact with infected bodily fluid. The main symptom is those lesions on the hands and forearms — the sores we saw on those unpleasant young men yesterday. Touching those lesions is what spreads the infection. They start on the udders of cows, you see — that's why milkmaids are so often the first to fall sick. They're the ones touching the udders all the time, so the sores spread to their hands."

  "Then they touch other people," Connor agreed thoughtfully — then chuckled to himself. "It's no wonder those lads are falling sick. Can't keep their hands off a pretty young woman to save their lives."

  "It's not a nice disease," she said with a frown. "Nothing fatal, but it does knock a person out of action for a few months. The sores are painful and weepy, and usually accompanied by fever, fatigue, body aches…"

  "Aye, I've heard that at least one of the maids is too unwell to work," Connor said, shaking his head. "It doesn't seem to be affecting those young men just yet, though — and only two of them had the sores."

  "It takes a week or so for the lesions to show up." She shrugged. "At any rate — tell the villagers to avoid any contact with anyone with sores. No touching at all — not the sores, and not any other part of their bodies, either. You never know when the disease could have been transferred from a sore to the rest of someone's skin. Think of it like… ink," she said, remembering a useful video that had done the rounds online. "It hangs around on whatever it touches."

  "I'll spread the word," Connor said, nodding firmly. "And I'll keep my gauntlets on when I'm dealing with livestock for the time being, I think."

  "Good idea," she said, smiling. Armored gloves weren't exactly equivalent to PPE — but anything was better than nothing.

  They finished their breakfast, then Connor escorted her out of the inn. She was looking forward to the day, she realized with surprise. Looking forward to meeting Kay… and maybe getting some answers about just what the hell was going on here.

  Chapter 9

  It was a beautiful day. Was it warmer than yesterday, or had she just acclimatized to the chill in the air? Connor had brought two horses today, but he hesitated as he led her toward them, glancing back at her anxiously.

  "Now, I wasn't sure if you knew how to ride. Some of the ladies hadn't been near a horse when they first got here. But I didn't want you to feel like you had to ride behind me again."

  "No," she said quickly, then shook herself. "No, I mean — I didn't mind that, but — I know how to ride. I took lessons when I was a kid," she added with a smile. "Me and my brother."

  "Good," he said with a smile. "The gray's yours, then. She's a sweet old thing — not much of a turn of speed on her, but she's steady as a rock and will go all day and night if you let her. Nice smooth stride, too. One of Liam's favorites," he said with a grin. "Liam's my cousin. Kay's husband."

  Sure enough, the mare he'd brought for her to ride was sweet and placid, with a step so smooth that she almost felt like she wasn't on horseback at all. It had been a few years since she'd been on a horse, but there was something about it that was hard to forget, and she felt a broad grin break out over her face as they set off up the road that ran through the middle of the town up toward the church standing on the hill. The village was busy at this time of morning, and Karen was aware of more than a few curious stares from passersby — all of whom also offered Connor cheerful waves and called greetings to him. He was well-liked, it seemed.

  "That's my cottage," he pointed out cheerfully as they rode past a little cottage on the main street of town, a few doors down from the church. "I used to live at the Keep, but I moved down here as a permanent villa
ge guard a few years ago."

  "Keeping an eye out for strange women crawling out of the lake?" she called back with a smile.

  "Aye, that's most of the job."

  They rode past the huge, foreboding church. It was oddly familiar. Karen's mother was Catholic — her father an easy-going agnostic who'd gone along with whatever her mother wanted — so she had a passing familiarity with the rituals, and a handful of churchgoing memories from her childhood, most of which were steeped in deep unease. She'd never felt especially at home in a church… the concept of God, while theoretically comforting, was so touched with fear and dread of having done something wrong that it had always been a relief to talk to her father, who didn't much care one way or another whether God was watching. Just be good for the sake of being good, he'd told her, and any God worth his or her salt will respect that.

  She was about to ask Connor what the church folk thought of all the supernatural stuff — but they'd already ridden past the church, heading down a path that wove its way through the woods, and she decided to leave the subject of religion for another day. After all, she'd only just met this man. Religion was a topic that could wait until they were better acquainted.

  The dairy farm they were headed for was about a half hour's leisurely ride, and by the time they had reached the farm she'd remembered her riding lessons enough to be itching to go faster. They hitched their horses to the farm's gate and headed through the front gate, past the beautiful old farmhouse to a sturdy barn that stood beyond it. There was a paddock behind the barn, full of maybe a hundred cows, all milling about together, making soft sounds that carried on the warm summer air.

  Leaning on the fencepost were three people, who turned as Connor called a greeting. The first was a man in maybe his seventies, wizened and ancient with a pair of keen blue eyes that seemed to size Karen up the moment he saw her. Somehow, she just knew this was the farmer — especially as the other two seemed oddly familiar. One, a tall man with blond hair braided behind his ears and a dancing smile on his face — the other, a slender, tall woman with wavy dark hair pushed back by a rather incongruous looking modern headband. This had to be Kay — and her husband, Liam, whose resemblance to his cousin Connor couldn't be denied.

  "You must be the famous Karen. Good to meet you," Kay said warmly, stepping forward to shake her hand. "I'm Kay." God, it was good to hear another American accent. "This is my husband Liam. And this is Neil, who owns this farm."

  "You're some kind of expert on all this, I'm told?" the old man said, narrowing his eyes at Karen. It was clear from his disgruntled expression that they wouldn't get much of a chance to chat — he had one topic on his mind, and one topic only. "My herds've been sick for weeks."

  "Cowpox," Kay confirmed, shaking her head a little. "Thankfully, it won't do any lasting harm to your herds, Neil." She was raising her voice a little — the old man must have been a little hard of hearing.

  Liam cleared his throat. "It would be best for us to separate the sick animals from the healthy ones, to slow the spread of the illness. Is that something you can do, Neil?"

  "Not with my lay-about farmhands," the old man said, disgruntled. "Useless as anything, the lot of them. Say they don't want to work with sick animals. Say they're worried about catching it. Is there anything else I can do?" he added, sounding hopeful. "Old Maggie might know of a salve or something to cure them…?"

  "Nothing we can do, unfortunately. No vaccines," Kay added in an undertone to Karen, who nodded. "The best hope is to quarantine the sick ones."

  "And hope it doesn't spread to any other herds," Liam added, frowning. "Do you still graze the herds together down by the river?"

  "Aye, we do," Neil said with a grimace. "Put a stop to it once we noticed the pox on a few of them, though."

  "It may already be too late," Kay said with a heavy sigh. "The disease has an incubation period of a week or so. We'd better check with the other farmers in the area."

  "Guess I've got some herding to do," Neil said with a grimace.

  But Karen frowned, glancing up at Connor — who was way ahead of her, volunteering to help with the work. Kay and Liam were quick to volunteer as well, and it wasn't long before the four of them were riding out into the paddock, setting about the work of dividing the sick cows — which Neil pointed out from his vantage point on the fence — from the healthy.

  Overall, not exactly what Karen had been expecting to put her medical degree toward.

  Chapter 10

  All told, there were about fifteen sick cows among the herd — not that many, but it was nevertheless tricky, fiddly work to split them off from their friends and herd them into the smaller paddock adjacent. The sun rose to its zenith then began to sink toward the horizon — by the time noon had come and gone, Neil had disappeared inside to bring them a meal of pies they ate on horseback, and it wasn't until mid-afternoon that the herd had been successfully split into two, healthy and well animals, and a thorough final check conducted of the well animals to ensure no signs of disease were on them.

  They said their farewells to Neil, who thanked them gruffly for their help, and rode back toward town, exhausted and aching. Still, Karen couldn't help but feel a tingle of pride. There was something about the physical nature of the work that made her feel oddly accomplished. Her muscles were warm, and the horse felt good beneath her… and more to the point, she was looking forward to having a good chat with Kay. They'd tried their hardest to talk on horseback, but a paddock full of recalcitrant cows wasn't exactly a good atmosphere for getting to know somebody.

  It was reasonably quiet when they reached the inn. Liam and Connor headed for the bar, arms around each other's shoulders, and Kay and Karen found themselves together at a table by the fire. They'd washed their hands and faces clean, and it felt very pleasant to sit by the fire together.

  "So," Kay said, her eyes twinkling. "How absolutely mad are you finding it so far?"

  "Oh, solid eight out of ten," Karen said thoughtfully, winning a laugh from the veterinarian.

  "How long have you been here? Connor said it's been a couple of days?"

  "Yeah, around that. Feels like — well, feels simultaneously like much longer and much shorter."

  "You're doing well." Kay shrugged. "My first few days here I felt like I was on the edge of a nervous breakdown. I didn't believe any of it was real, thought I was going insane, thought I was having some kind of fever dream, or a stress-induced hallucination…"

  "Yeah, I considered all of those," Karen said thoughtfully. "But I mean… if I got through med school without hallucinating about Scotland, I figure nothing else is gonna be able to cut it. I'm here."

  Kay laughed. "That's one way of looking at it. I'm glad you're settling in okay," she smiled. "It's a pretty — wild experience."

  "How many of us are there?" Karen wanted to know, leaning forward with interest. "Connor said — five?"

  "Anna, Nancy, Elena, me, Helen — yeah, five. And you make six. All of us from the twenty-first century… right?" she added.

  Karen nodded.

  "And all of us American. I'm from Wisconsin," she said with a smile. "You?"

  "Colorado, originally. But I live in Georgia now. I work for the NIH," she added, grateful for the look of recognition that flicked across Kay's face.

  "Brilliant. I've been thinking about what we'd do if a proper epidemic came through — bubonic plague, all that stuff. I've been the closest thing to a doctor we've got. Well, me and Maggie — though she's less of a medical professional and more … ah, well, you'll see when you meet her."

  Karen tilted her head, fiercely curious about this Maggie everyone kept mentioning so mysteriously. But it was clear that Kay had other things on her mind.

  "A doctor," she mused, smiling broadly. "Well, I'm glad I'll be able to focus on animal patients."

  "Seems like we'll need both of us to sort out this cowpox situation," Karen said with a smile. "You know it's one of the first diseases I learned about? The origin of the
word 'vaccination'." She leaned forward, interested to finally talk about this topic with someone who knew where she was coming from. "So — what's the deal with our knowledge, and everything? What happens if we give too much information away? Do we cause a — a time paradox, or something? Obviously, I know a lot more than anyone else here — so do you, and so does Connor, for that matter, now that I've told him a few things… does that do damage to history, somehow?"

  Kay shook her head, looking thoughtful. "We've talked about it, but it's hard to say for sure. My theory is that the Sidhe protect us from any negative consequences — both of traveling here, and of the incongruity of what we know with history. It's just a theory, though. Nobody really understands how the Sidhe work… least of all some lousy scientist like me," she added with a grin.

  "The Sidhe… they're the faeries that are supposed to have brought us here, right?"

  "Right," Kay affirmed. "They're kind of … royalty, from what I can tell. There are two courts on the other side of the Burgh — Seelie and Unseelie. The Seelie are friends and allies — they can be mischievous, or hard to understand, but they've usually got our best interests at heart. The Unseelie are — decidedly not so." She shivered. "When I first got here, there were these creatures that had come through the Burgh… these creepy water horse things. They caused a lot of death and destruction before we managed to defeat them." She sighed. "You get used to it."

  "I can't imagine," Karen said, a little chilled by the bleak look on Kay's face. "How long have you been here?"

  "A few months," Kay explained. "Nearly a year, actually, now I think about it. Wow. Time flies when you're having fun," she said with a smile on her face. "I love it here, truly. For all its quirks… it's where I was meant to be, you know?"

 

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