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

by Rebecca Preston

  They knocked hard on the door, and it wasn't long before Cameron answered it, looking uncharacteristically sleepy and grumpy, as though they'd just gotten him out of bed. It was clear that he was still taking his duties seriously, however — the long iron knife that Connor had given him on their last visit was in his hand, and he relaxed his guard only a little bit when he recognized who was visiting.

  "We need to speak to Mary, Cameron, is that alright?" Karen asked, trying to disguise her impatience. As sweet as it was that the little boy wanted to protect his big sister, it was getting a little inconvenient to have to play this game every time they wanted to talk to the girl. He hesitated, still looking bleary-eyed, and she frowned a little. This wasn't the sharp-eyed boy they'd met.

  "What's wrong, little man?" That was Connor, dropping to one knee to speak to the child at his level. "Were you up late last night?"

  "I was making sure the shadows didn't come and bother Mary," he said in a small voice, rubbing his face. "I don't want anyone upsetting her."

  "That's good," Connor said with a smile. "We don't want that either. But we do need to talk to her, Cameron. Will you let us through?"

  He hesitated … but Connor had managed to suggest somehow, with his body language and the slightly fixed quality of the smile on his face, that this wasn't a question that Cameron could say no to. Looking a little resentful, he stood aside, and Connor and Karen started up the stairs with the little boy trailing after them, still wielding the iron blade. It was good that he had it, Karen thought with a smile, remembering what Brendan had told her about the protective effects of iron. And he probably knew a lot more about how to use the thing than she did, too.

  Mary was looking a lot better when they crept into her room. The curtains were still shut tight and the room was still very dark, but Karen could tell that the weeks of rest had helped a little with her lesions, and with the disease. Still, the gaze she turned to them was listless, and it was clear to Karen that she was still deep in the depression and probable post-traumatic stress that the rape had caused. How was she going to recover from this? It was a complex issue even in Karen's own time… and she was far from an expert in psychology or psychiatry. Even if she'd known where to start, there was no guarantee she'd be of any help to the girl…

  But that wasn't why they were here, she reminded herself — helping Mary wasn't their goal here.

  They were here to see if Mary could help them — and the rest of the village — in dealing with the Sluagh threat.

  Chapter 54

  But she didn't want to just go straight in with that question. She hesitated a little, exchanged a glance with Connor, aware they hadn't spoke of strategy here — then shrugged, deciding to just improvise.

  "How are you feeling, Mary?"

  The girl shrugged, swallowed hard. "A little better. My bruises are healed."

  "That's good," Karen said softly. She moved a little closer to Mary, noticing with some relief that Connor chose to stay back by the door — probably safest, given what the girl had gone through at the hands of men. "I'm glad to hear that. How are your lesions?"

  "Hate them," she said listlessly. "They're everywhere and they're never going to heal."

  "That's not true," Cameron said stridently, surging forward. The little boy looked heartbroken that his sister was so upset, but he lifted his chin fiercely. "They're getting better. I've been helping put on salve from Old Maggie and they're going to heal right up and not even leave any scars, that's what Maggie told us, and she's magic so you know she's telling the truth."

  "Tell you what, Cameron? Why don't you and I head downstairs and fetch the girls something to drink?" Connor didn't give Cameron a chance to argue — just headed downstairs with him in tow. Grateful to be alone with Mary, Karen pressed the advantage.

  "What about your visitors, Mary?" Karen asked gently. "You know the ones I mean. Last time, you called them the angels. Have you seen them again?"

  That got the girl's attention. Mary looked up sharply, a frightened, wary look on her face as she processed what had been asked. "No," she said, a little too quickly. "They're nothing to do with me."

  "I have bad news, I'm afraid," Karen said softly, encouraged by the way Mary was at least looking at her and listening to what she had to say. "About the creatures. They're not angels, Mary. They're called the Sluagh, and they're extremely dangerous indeed. The men they killed that first night… they deserved it. You know I don't blame you at all for sending them after those men. But I'm afraid that something … something's happening. The Sluagh… they're not just hunting bad men. They're hunting anyone — man or boy — who has cowpox. You know that included little Malcolm. And the disease has spread… at least four more boys have it, all children. All like your little brother."

  She was shaking her head, her face a mask of misery. "I don't — I can't —"

  "It's not your fault, Mary. I believe that. But if we're going to stop this… if we're going to stop more innocent people dying…" She took a deep breath. "I need you to tell me the whole story, Mary. Can you do that?"

  "I can't," she whispered, her face a mask of misery. "I can't… I can't —" A sob escaped her, and then she collapsed into tears, her frail shoulders shaking as she wailed loudly enough to echo through the house. Karen felt for her acutely, but frustration still twisted at her stomach… all she needed was information, information that might help save lives… How could she get through to her?

  There was a sudden commotion on the stairs, the sound of pounding feet echoing through the wall, and then the door burst open and little Cameron was standing there, his face furious and his knife drawn. Connor was behind him, and the look on his face was incredibly grim — Karen looked at him, a little puzzled by how acutely dismayed he looked. Had he overheard Mary explaining that she couldn't tell them what had happened?

  "Mary, don't cry," Cameron said miserably, moving to the girl's side and reaching out with one trembling hand to comfort her. As he did so, the long sleeve of the sweater he was wearing pulled back with the motion of his arm, and Karen gasped at what she saw there. For a moment, she hoped against hope that it was just a scrape or bruise — even an infected knife wound from his practice — but no, there was no mistaking it. There, on the underside of the little boy's arm, red and raw as anything, was a fresh cowpox pustule.

  "Cameron," she gasped, reaching forward to take hold of his elbow. Realizing what had happened, his eyes went wide, and he yanked his arm away, tugging the sleeve down as quick as he could to hide the pustule… but it was too late. She'd seen more than enough… but Mary hadn't. The girl was looking at Karen, clearly a little concerned by her shock — but the expression on her face made it clear that her little brother had been hiding his condition. "You know what that is, don't you?"

  "No," he said defiantly, clearly lying.

  "Cameron?" Mary said in a small voice, her eyes moving to her brother. He looked delighted to hear her say his name — but then his face twisted. "What's wrong?"

  "I — nothing. I just hurt my arm. I fell down. I cut it with the knife, I —"

  "That's cowpox, Cameron," Connor said firmly from the doorway, shaking his head. "You know as well as we do, so why lie?"

  "It's fine," he said miserably, reaching out to grab his sister's hand as her eyes filled with tears. "I'm alright, Mary, really, I don't even feel that sick —"

  "No, no, no," Mary was whimpering, her face a mask of horror, and Karen shook her head, full of grief about the connection she must be making. Cameron, her beloved little brother, now fit the profile she'd given to the Sluagh — the victims she'd volunteered for the slaughter now numbered her little brother among them.

  "You have to help us, Mary," Karen said softly. "We can stop them — we can keep you safe. Both of you. Everyone in the village. But we need you to tell us what's going on. For Cameron."

  Mary gazed at her little brother for a long, long time. The little boy's eyes were full of tears — he'd sunk down onto her bed,
all the fight in him gone, and as she stared at him, he lay down beside her, putting his head in her lap. "He's been so strong," Mary whispered, stroking his hair back from his face with a tender gesture. "He — he kept me alive. Never gave up on me…"

  "So, help him. Help him, Mary. Help him by helping us."

  "The herdsmen had been bothering me for weeks." Her eyes didn't shift, and her tone was flat and emotionless.

  Karen could tell she was shutting herself down, trying not to feel anything so she could get through the story. Her heart leapt with hope and she leaned forward, wanting to take the girl's hand in hers, to help her be brave and get through her story — but Mary had her eyes fixed on Cameron's face, almost in a trance as she stroked his hair. Distancing herself from the story. Well, whatever she needed to do, Karen was happy to let her. She could see Connor standing at the doorway, barely moving or breathing — she glanced at him and he moved carefully back, out of Mary's field of vision but still in the room.

  Was this it? Were they finally about to learn how they could defeat the Sluagh?

  Chapter 55

  “I couldn't get them to leave me alone," Mary said, her voice barely a whisper. "I tried everything. First, I was nice to them, played along with their jokes. Then I was cold but polite, doing what I could to avoid them, never to be alone with any of them. First it was just staring. Then it was comments and jokes about me, about my body, about my…" She passed a shaking hand over her torso, a general gesture toward her breasts.

  Karen fought the urge to scowl. The way men reacted to the perfectly natural development of breasts in young women as they went through puberty, even adult men… it was disgusting.

  "I tried and tried to get away from them. Tried begging them to leave me alone. Even tried giving them what they wanted, playing along, flirting back. But none of it helped, none of it worked. I tried to talk to the farmers, talk to their parents, talk to the priest and the village leaders and everyone. All of them just laughed. They told me that that was what boys were like. That all the milkmaids were used to it, that one day a boy I liked would do the same things and I'd love it." Her whole body was shaking as she spoke.

  Karen wished she could do something, anything, to ease the pain she saw on her face.

  "Nobody believed me when I said I was scared they were going to hurt me. Everyone just told me I was overreacting. Then…"

  "It's okay," Karen said softly as she hesitated. "It's okay, Mary. You're safe. Keep going when you can." She gave her a cup of water from the bedside table — the girl's hands shook as she took a sip from it.

  "I was walking home across the hillside," she said softly. "It was dark. I'd been walking the long way every night for two weeks because they… they were always in town, they were always on the street where I walked, and I didn't want them to scream things at me… so I'd been walking across the pastures instead. And they… they saw me, I guess, or found out. They came after me. Danny was the one who grabbed me — grabbed me by the hand," she said, lifting her left hand. "Squeezed me. It hurt so badly — I could tell he'd burst one of my sores but when I tried to tell him he just put his hand over my mouth. Then —"

  Her face twisted and Karen took a breath. "You don't have to go through it, love. I know what they did, you don't have to retell it if it hurts you."

  "It was so dark when they stopped," she whispered. "I was lying in the grass — William threw his cloak on me and they all left. I was there for… I don't know how long. I don't remember getting home but when I woke up, I was here."

  "Why didn't you tell anyone?" Karen said softly. But she already knew the answer.

  "I knew they wouldn't believe me," Mary murmured, tears streaming down her face though she barely seemed aware of it. "Or they'd tell me it was my fault… that I'd been leading the men on, that I shouldn't have walked across the field, or that that was just what men do and I was just unlucky…"

  "Those men were monsters," Connor broke in unexpectedly. He was clearly controlling his voice, his anger, but Karen could hear how his voice was shaking with the strain. "Their actions were their fault and their fault alone. You did nothing wrong. I'm utterly ashamed of them, Mary."

  She gave no sign that she'd heard him — but her voice did sound a little stronger when she spoke again. "When Mam asked what had happened to give me so many bruises and spread the pox all over me, I said I'd fainted and fallen down the stairs. I thought I was safe… thought they were finally done with me. That they'd gotten what they'd wanted, and they'd finally leave me alone. Then… then they came here. Cameron tried to stop them coming up the stairs," she added, a soft smile crossing her face as she stroked the boy's hair.

  He'd fallen asleep, Karen realized with a start. Maybe that was a good thing. It might break his little heart to know what had happened to his sister — he'd find a way to blame himself for not protecting her.

  "What did they say?"

  "They said they all had pox — that it was my fault, that I'd better do something about it. Threatened to kill me. It was only that they saw Da coming home that they left. I think one of them was watching the house," she added, frowning.

  Karen remembered with an icy chill the day she'd run into Danny outside of the cottage. If only she'd known then what she knew now… she'd have hauled him off to the village elders herself to answer for his awful crimes.

  "I was so sad… so frightened they'd come back, that they'd hurt Cameron or our parents, I just…" She shivered. "I knew it was a sin when I thought of it but I…" She hesitated, then reached into the bedside table drawer and withdrew a small knife. "I didn't want to live," she said, tears rolling down her cheeks. "I wrote a letter to my family and everything, explaining and saying that I was sorry… I thought if I was dead, they might be safe, but I couldn't… I wasn't brave enough to —" Her shoulders were shaking as she dropped the knife back into the drawer and covered her face with her hands. Karen wanted to hold her but knew touching her was a bad idea. "That was when they came," she whispered. "The angels. They came to my window in the dark of the night when I was in my deepest despair, and they whispered that they could take me away, make me forget it all. I was tempted. For the longest time, I thought about going with them… about leaving all this behind for good. But it's a sin," she whispered. "I couldn't. I didn't want to go. So, I told them…" She shivered. "I told them I wanted to live. They looked so angry. They told me they'd take me whether I wanted to go or not — unless I could offer them another life in my place." Her face was hard. "I told them I could offer them six."

  Karen took a deep breath. "You named the herdsmen."

  "It was all I could think of," she whispered. "The only way to keep my family safe. But I didn't know all of their names — only Danny, and William — and the creatures didn't understand when I tried to give them a description instead. So, I told them to look for any men with cowpox. I thought… I didn't know anyone else would get it other than milkmaids," she whispered. "I thought it was only if you touched a cow, or did what they did to me, I never thought…"

  "I know, Mary," Karen said softly, wanting so badly to comfort her but having no idea what to say. "You did your best, I know."

  "I don't want anyone else to die," she whispered, her face a mask of sorrow. "They come to me every night, now… they whisper to me, tell me that once they're finished with all the men with pox, they're going to come back for me unless I give them someone else…" Her face twisted. "I should let them. I should have let them take me in the first place."

  "No," Karen said fiercely. "No way, Mary. You survived what those men did to you, I'll be damned if you're not going to survive this Sluagh thing as well. We're going to beat them, okay? If we have to kill every last one with arrows, we'll beat them. We'll keep you safe. You're going to live a long life, Mary, and one day you're going to be happy again. I promise you."

  Mary gave her a half-smile. But Karen could tell that she wasn't convinced.

  Chapter 56

  Not long after tellin
g her tale, Mary confessed that she was utterly exhausted, and politely asked them to leave both her and Cameron to rest. The little boy was still fast asleep, his iron knife gripped tightly in his fist. Connor and Karen agreed to go and headed out of the little cottage, through the kitchen and out into the front yard, where they stood blinking dazedly in the mid-afternoon sun. Somehow, it felt like it should have been later than this… it felt like they'd been with Mary for hours and hours, and the sunlight shining warmly down on them felt utterly out of place.

  "They'll be back tonight, I'd warrant," Connor said finally, his voice rough, and she could tell that he was just changing the subject from what they'd just learned about Mary. She understood completely why he was doing that. She had no idea what to say about any of it — in a lot of ways she suspected she'd be processing it for a long while yet. What could they do for Mary, after such an unthinkably awful thing had happened to her? How could she provide post-traumatic counseling in medieval Scotland? The closest thing this place had to a therapist was Father Caleb… and he was far from the kind of person she could see helping a young girl with a problem like this…

  Then again, who knew? Maybe she was underestimating the young priest. He had a youthful, slightly sallow look to him, but he'd more than proved that he'd earned his position. The villagers loved him… and Karen knew first-hand how difficult it really was to win the love and trust of these people. She made a resolution to talk to him about Mary once they'd gotten the epidemic and the Sluagh under control. Maybe he'd have some ideas for the best way to help the girl — ideas that didn't rely on a whole lot of infrastructure that just didn't exist in this time and place.

  She and Connor rode down the road in thoughtful silence. By the time they reached town, Brendan was already there — he and his men were in the habit of meeting earlier than sunset, just to make sure they were all on the same page regarding the night's activities. Connor slid off his horse and immediately headed over to the watch captain, gesturing for Karen to join him.