Needed By The Highlander: A Scottish Time Travel Romance (Highlander Forever Book 5)

by Rebecca Preston

  A specialist, Helen thought dazedly as Maeve made her goodbyes and left. What kind of a specialist would they be able to call in? It was medieval Scotland, wasn’t it? Somehow, the fever and delirium were preventing her from rejecting that idea as too ridiculous. Half the thoughts she was fighting off were completely absurd as it was… it was almost as though she was too busy fighting her own delirious mind to question the ludicrous notion that she’d traveled through time and space to sixteenth-century Scotland. Why not? she thought dizzily. She’d play along for now, at least… if she really had time-traveled, she’d find concrete proof sooner or later. The dresses were a nice touch — the women were all wearing such elaborate gowns. She was a little hypnotized by Elena’s in particular, which was made of a strange blue patterned fabric that she felt a strange urge to touch…

  “Helen? Are you okay?”

  “Not exactly,” she managed, her head spinning.

  Kay pressed her hand to her forehead and frowned. “You’ve got a pretty serious fever.”

  “I bet,” she said distractedly. “With the dreams I’ve been having...”

  “I had some pretty crazy dreams when I got here,” Elena said, smiling. “Where’d you say you were from again?”

  “West Virginia.” She tilted her head, something occurring to her for the first time. “You four don’t have accents.”

  “We’re all from America too,” Kay said with a smile. “No idea why it’s only twenty-first century American women so far who’ve been brought back, but I’m sure the Sidhe have their reasons…”

  “What did you do?” Elena asked, looking curious. “In the future, I mean.” There was something ominous about the past tense there, but Helen took a deep breath.

  “I was — I started my career as an analyst for the FBI. But recently I’ve been freelancing as a private investigator.”

  The women were all grinning at Elena, who looked delighted. “A woman after my own heart! I was a cop in Baltimore,” she explained brightly.

  “I was a vet,” Kay said. “Well, still am. Plenty of work for me down here. And Anna was a soldier, and Nancy was —”

  “- the youngest scuba instructor in North Carolina.” Nancy sighed. “Not so much work for me here without my equipment.”

  “Okay,” Helen said dizzily. It felt like trying to follow the plot of a bad movie — she was interested, but in a detached kind of way, as though it really had nothing to do with her. “That’s an interesting range of skills. Are we being collected for some kind of army?”

  The women laughed, Anna most of all. “I mean, in a way, yes. From what we’ve been able to tell, the Sidhe don’t just rescue women from the future when they’re in danger — though that’s clearly a part of it. The last thing all of us remember is a near-death experience… Elena fell down some stairs, Nancy got trapped in an underwater cave-in and I had a visit from a certain gun-wielding ex-boyfriend.”

  Helen swallowed — this was all pretty dark for a fever dream.

  “But they don’t just bring us here to save us. From what we can tell, there’s usually a reason for us to be here… some kind of need for our skills. When Elena came back, she helped investigate a series of murders. And Nancy’s diving experience helped with a serious underwater problem in the Loch.”

  Helen’s eyes widened as she made a particular connection. “Loch. You’re not seriously telling me we’re —”

  “The castle stands on the shores of Loch Ness, yes,” Elena put in, her eyes twinkling. “It’s a beautiful place, truly. Can’t wait until you’re well again and we can show you. Maybe Niall could lend us a boat?”

  “He’s got a few, does he?” Helen asked wryly.

  “Oh, yeah. Niall is the harbormaster here — didn’t he mention? He’s the one who pulled you out of the Loch.”

  Helen’s eyes widened. “Pulled me out — how the hell did I get into Loch Ness? I crashed my car into a river, not — wait. So these Sidhe, whoever they are, they saved me from a car accident by… dumping me in a lake? How would that help?”

  The women were exchanging amused glances, and Helen couldn’t help but giggle a little. It all sounded so ridiculous… and yet, something about the quiet, steady way these women were answering her questions was convincing. Could it really be true? Could she have been transported through time and space? Such things weren’t possible… but then again, that’s what they’d used to think about the world being round and not flat, about air travel and computers… was magic just one more thing on the ‘not discovered yet’ list for humanity to encounter?

  She could feel herself getting dizzy again — Kay’s sharp eyes were on her, and she felt the vet reach out to touch her forehead. “I think that’s enough talk for now,” Kay said gently.

  Despite Helen’s growing curiosity about the world she’d found herself in, she could only nod faintly in agreement. She was too weak for this conversation… and getting weaker. Real worry began to prickle at her. If she really was in the sixteenth century, how the hell were they going to cure her of what felt like a pretty serious illness?

  Chapter 6

  The next few hours passed in a blur. The other women left her to her rest, and it wasn’t long before she was drifting in and out of a troubled, disoriented sleep. Dreams kept blurring with reality… at one point, Elena was by her bedside, stroking her sweat-damp hair back from her forehead… then she was replaced with a spectre of Paul, the man she’d arrested, whose fingers felt like blocks of ice as they caressed her forehead. Had he died in the car crash, she managed to wonder in a lucid moment she was able to grasp between fits of delirium? If she’d been pulled through to medieval Scotland for safety, what had happened to the man in her car? Had she drowned him? Would he haunt her in vengeance? Because if fairies and time travel were real, there was no reason to assume that ghosts couldn’t be…

  The dreams broke up as she looked up into the face of a worried Maeve. It was impossible to tell how much time had passed since the woman had left, but she knew she’d been asleep for a while at least… and to her dismay, her body felt weaker than it had earlier as she propped herself weakly up in bed. Maeve moved to her side, pressing her back into the bed… but then an unfamiliar voice sounded, making Helen blink in confusion.

  “No, no. Let her sit up. She’ll need to soon enough.”

  “Who’s that?” she managed, her voice oddly weak and rasping. With a hand that trembled, she reached out for the glass of water that was still sitting on the bedside table and lifted it to her lips. The water was sorely needed, but it was hard to swallow it without coughing… her whole chest felt like it was burning and aching. Was there a cure for pneumonia in the sixteenth century? she wondered dazedly. A cure aside from antibiotics? Was it possible to get rid of the illness with just rest? She’d been resting… and she felt worse than when she’d gone to sleep. What if this was it for her? What if the next time she fell asleep she didn’t ever wake up again? Panic began to seethe in her chest… and, clearly reading the expression on her face, Maeve stroked her forehead soothingly.

  “Don’t worry, dearest. You’re in safe hands now. This is Maggie.”

  She blinked, a little confused — Maeve was the only other person she could see in the room. Then a discreet cough alerted her, and she sat up further, blinking as she realized that there was, in fact, another person standing next to Maeve. A very short person — a person who could easily have been mistaken for a pile of rags. Why, this woman couldn’t have been more than five feet tall… clad in what looked like at least a dozen layers of clothes, including a hat that was squashed down over her ears, the woman was peering intently at her from the side of the bed. Her face, at least, was clear of rags… a pair of bright eyes peered out of a face that was absolutely covered in wrinkles. This woman was far older than Maeve… far older than anyone Helen had ever met. But there was something in those eyes that belied her apparent age… something whimsical, and mischievous, and above all, kind. Something that made her feel strangely
safe, even as the woman clicked her tongue.

  “Helen, is it? Welcome to Loch Ness. I’m Maggie.”

  “Nice to meet you,” she managed, her manners not deserting her. “Sorry I can’t get up. Are you a doctor?”

  Maggie cackled laughter, a hoarse sound that was surprisingly gentle on the ears — and filled Helen with a pleasant warmth. “Oh, no, lassie. I’m much better than that. I’m a healer.”

  “Do you have antibiotics?”

  It was Maeve’s turn to laugh. “Kay’s told me about those. I’m sure the future has all kinds of magical approaches to diseases… but we’ve got Maggie. She’s even better. You’re in safe hands, trust me.”

  Helen nodded, glancing at Maggie expectantly. What choice did she have? Clearly, this was some kind of wise old woman who lived nearby… the people of the castle relied on her for primitive remedies for illnesses. Herbal remedies, no doubt. It was better than nothing, she supposed, though she had to admit, the vial that Maggie drew out of her robes didn’t look especially appetizing. It was a dull green in color, and cloudy as she swirled it around.

  “It won’t taste nice at all,” Maggie said in a matter-of-fact tone, “but it’ll clear your lungs up a treat. Then it’s just a question of restoring your strength so your body can repair itself.”

  “What’s in it?”

  Maggie cackled again, tossing her head back as the sound seemed to rip itself free. “Curious even on death’s door! I like this one.”

  “Death’s door?”

  “Never you mind about that. You just drink this down, you hear? Oh, and Maeve? Fetch her a pail or similar — she’ll need it.” Maggie pressed the vial into Helen’s hands — she accepted it obediently, raising an eyebrow as she realized the vial seemed to radiate a dull heat.

  “It’s still warm. Did you — cook it?”

  “Never you mind how it was made,” Maggie said, a note of sharpness creeping into her voice. “That’s for me to know and all to wonder. Just concern yourself with drinking it down.”

  Maeve returned to the room, a wooden pail in her hands, and placed it down by the bed — the same way Helen’s brothers had always put a bucket next to her bed when she’d been out drinking with friends. Anxiety settled in her stomach as she looked at the vial of dull green liquid… was this going to make her throw up?

  “Am I going to vomit? I don’t know if it’s a good idea for me to lose any more fluids —”

  “What did I say? Drink it down,” Maggie said, and this time her voice was steely. “You’ve not got a great deal of time to waste.”

  “Trust her, Helen. She’s never done harm to a patient in all the years we’ve known each other,” Maeve said softly, reaching out with one fine hand to touch Helen’s shoulder beneath the blankets. “Her remedies are famous.”

  Helen sighed. What did she have to lose, really? She was horribly unwell, and it didn’t look like going to a hospital was an option. The strange green potion might just be the closest thing to a course of antibiotics she was going to get. And what was more, there was something about Maggie that just made her want to trust the woman. So she braced herself for a moment.. then pulled the cork out of the vial and downed the potion in one draft.

  “That’s my girl,” Maggie said with approval, bustling forward to stand at her side with the wooden pail clutched in her wizened hands. “Give it a moment…”

  The potion didn’t taste nearly as bad as it looked, she thought as she swallowed. It looked foul, but the taste was quite fresh… it reminded her a little of a salad, a little of the smell of freshly-mown grass, and a lot of the feeling of drinking ice-cold water in the middle of the night. Despite her fever and nausea, and her concerns about what the pail had been brought for, it seemed to rest easily enough in her stomach, and she was just about to ask again about the intended effects of the potion when she felt a strange tickling sensation in her lungs. She coughed automatically… then her eyes widened as she felt her mouth fill up with water. As if reading her mind, Maggie held out the pail, and she spat the water into it. It wasn’t long before another coughing fit rushed over her, and she clutched at the pail, shocked by how much liquid seemed to be emerging from her lungs. It was as though some kind of plug or blockage had been removed, and she was coughing and hacking out whatever had made her lungs rattle and ache the way they had been.

  Could this have been the effect of the potion? How on Earth did it work? She coughed and coughed, feeling weak and dazed as she fought to get her breath back after each wave… but there was something about the way she was clearing out her lungs that was making her feel stronger with each mouthful of foul liquid she spat out. Still, it was an unpleasant process, and it felt like hours before the spasms of coughing slowly faded. Helen lay exhausted against the pillows for a moment, breathing hard, Maggie and Maeve kept careful watch over her. Maeve handed her a glass of water, and she sipped at it gratefully. She was breathing very carefully, trying not to let her chest move too much with each little gasp of air she took in for fear of bringing on the coughing spasms again, but Maggie tutted at her.

  “Breathe properly, girl. We need to see if you’ve gotten rid of it all yet.”

  Obediently, she took a deeper breath, wincing in expectation of a stab of pain or a rattle of fluid… but to her surprise, the breath was silent and clear. And God, it felt good to fill her lungs completely after so long trying to keep her breathing under control… she took another deep, cleansing breath, and another, smiling as the oxygen seemed to fill her body anew, replenishing some of her strength.

  “You’ll still be weak,” Maggie warned her. “So no leaping out of bed, you hear? You’ve got a lot of strength to replace. If your host is willing, I’d recommend staying another day or two at least.”

  “He’s happy to look after her as long as she needs,” Maeve told Maggie softly.

  But Helen was frowning. “Wait a minute. I’ve — I’m still — I’ve got pneumonia.”

  “Do you?” Maggie asked ironically, raising an eyebrow. “What’re your symptoms, then?”

  “I —" She took a deep breath. “I actually — I feel a lot better. My chest feels clear.”

  “It is,” Maggie said matter-of-factly. “Like I said — I’m a healer, not a doctor. Your lungs are clear because I wanted them clear. The rest of the healing, that’ll be up to you. As will your life here.”

  “I don’t understand. What was that stuff? Some kind of herbal remedy?”

  “Herbs, aye. Herbs and Faerie magic.”

  “Herbs and what?”

  Maeve sighed, glancing down at Maggie with worry evident on her face. “We didn’t want to overwhelm her with all the details —”

  “Didn’t want to overwhelm her? She’s been brought to the past, to a whole new country, and healed in half an hour of a serious illness. That’s not overwhelming enough? Do you feel overwhelmed, dearie?” Maggie added, glancing inquisitively at Helen.

  “I mean — honestly, a little, yes.”

  “Good. Then I can’t overwhelm you any further when I tell you about the Fae.” Maggie’s eyes gleamed. “You were brought here by the Fae, Helen. The Sidhe, specifically. They’re the Lords and Ladies of the Seelie Fae — they’re the good ones, the ones who are on your side. A little difficult to understand, perhaps, but well-intentioned, and the best allies the human world has against the Unseelie.”

  Helen took a deep breath, still enjoying the new freedom in her lungs. “Faeries. You’re saying I was brought here by faeries.”

  “Good faeries, aye.”

  She paused for a moment, then shrugged. “Fine.”

  Maggie cackled again. “Ah, Maeve. I do like this one.”

  Chapter 7

  Helen had a lot of questions — more than a lot, in fact — but when she opened her mouth to let some of them out, all that escaped her was an enormous yawn. Maggie clucked her tongue sympathetically, and Helen blinked as the woman turned and bustled toward the door.

  “Wait —” she starte
d helplessly. “I have so many questions —”

  “Plenty of time for questions later,” Maggie said firmly, in a tone that reminded her of the way her mother used to tell her what to do when she was unwell — businesslike, but still full of kindness and warmth.

  An unexpected lump came to her throat. How long had it been since someone had cared for her like this?

  “We’ll have a cup of tea and a good long chat once you’re rested, alright? Come to my cottage. Anyone around here will be able to show you the way. But for now, your job is to get better. Eat something, if you can. And get lots of sleep.”

  “I’ve some broth ready for you,” Maeve said. “I’ll walk Maggie out and bring it back for you.”

  And with that, the strange old woman was gone, leaving Helen reeling. Part of her wanted nothing more than to sink into the bed and fall asleep — but her mind was still racing with confusion, and besides, the sound of some broth was remarkably appetizing. It wasn’t long before Maeve eased her way back into the room, a large bowl in her hands that was letting off an incredibly inviting smell. Helen sat up a little more in bed and accepted the bowl from Maeve, setting about eating it with great enthusiasm. Maeve smiled at her softly.

  “If I know Maggie’s remedies, you’ll be fighting fit in a couple of days.”

  “That was really amazing,” Helen said around mouthfuls of broth. “That — that potion, or whatever. Was it the same magic that brought me here?”

  Maeve smiled. “I don’t profess to know the ways of the Fae, not well. I spent some time with them as a girl, but that was a long time ago, and the Fae tend to be secretive about their ways… as you noticed.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, the way Maggie reacted when you asked what was in her potion…”

  “Maggie’s a Fae?”

  “Oh, aye. Well, she’s part human — her father was a human shepherd. But her mother, she was from the Fae, that’s for sure. Maggie acts as a kind of — diplomat, I suppose. She has a foot on both sides of the gateway, as it were.” Maeve tilted her head. “You seem to have adjusted. How are you taking all this?”