Helen shrugged, feeling a little mad. “I mean — I’m here, aren’t I? And I just drank a potion that cleared my lungs in half an hour. The evidence for magic is a lot stronger than the evidence for this being some careful hoax. And I’m all about evidence.”
“You and Elena are going to get on well.” Maeve chuckled. “She was an investigator of some sort in her own time… a policewoman.”
Helen smiled. “I suppose we’ll have a few things in common. But I’m not a cop.”
“Well, whatever your skills, you’ve a home here, Helen. And I look forward to getting to know you better.”
“Thank you, Maeve. For — for everything. Your kindness, your hospitality, looking after me…”
“Not at all. You time-lost women… well, you’ve all brought so much to our lives here. It’s my pleasure to help ease your way here. The will of the Sidhe can be difficult to understand, of course… but I have every confidence that they are acting in our best interests. That includes sending you here.” Maeve smiled, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder again. “And for now, I think it’s also in your best interests to get some sleep. If you need anything at all, do ask Niall. He’s rather intrigued by the strange woman he pulled out of the Loch.”
Helen grinned… but the lure of sleep was calling her. It was all she could do to say a polite goodnight to Maeve before she was sinking into the soft bed, the blankets unbelievably comforting as they drew her down, down into the pillowy darkness. And this time, her sleep wasn’t disturbed by coughing fits, or by disturbing dreams of the man she’d arrested… instead, she dreamed of benevolent, glowing figures who danced and swirled around her, always just out of reach, always playful, always full of a wise, knowing light that made her feel safe even as she strived to get just a little closer, to make out their features, to learn a little more about them…
And then there was a tapping on the door, and she realized with a start that it was morning. It felt like she’d barely been asleep for a second — but as she stirred, she realized from the heaviness of her limbs and the dryness of her mouth that she’d been asleep for a very long time. She was feeling a lot better already, too — her lungs were still clear, and her mind felt more alert than it had, with a lot of the fever having retreated. Her body was still weak, though, and as she stirred she winced at how resistant her limbs were to moving.
“Come in,” she managed, her voice hoarse. She was reaching for the glass of water on her bedside table when the door creaked slowly open to reveal Niall. He is a lot taller than her previous visitor, she thought with some amusement as he approached the bed, mentally comparing Maggie’s tiny frame to this enormous man’s. But the concern he was looking at her with was touching, and she smiled shyly, sitting up in bed as much as she could. In his hands was a covered tray — food, she guessed from the smell, and from the way her stomach was growling, it was just what she needed.
“How are you feeling?” he asked as he settled the tray onto her lap. “I saw Maggie came to visit you last night.”
“Yes, she brought me some kind of… green stuff. It was amazing. Cleared my lungs completely. No idea how she does it.”
Niall chuckled, those green eyes of his gleaming.
Unclouded by fever and shock, Helen found herself able to appreciate the man’s good looks a little more than she had when they’d first met… but she had to stop that train of thought before she started blushing.
“Aye, Maggie’s a miracle worker and no mistake.”
“Maeve was telling me she’s… she’s a Fae?” Helen bit her lip, not sure whether this was common knowledge.. but from the look of guarded relief in Niall’s eyes, it seemed he’d been wondering how much she knew about the magical remedy she’d been given.
“Aye, she is. Hence the power of her healing magics… and why everyone in the area goes to her for remedies when they’re under the weather. Of course, she swears that most of her remedies are just common sense and not magical at all, but…” He shrugged. “When it’s serious, Maggie knows just what to do.”
“Well, I’m feeling much better.” She smiled. “Thanks in part to you. The women were telling me that it was you that pulled me out of the water. I don’t remember it at all, but — thank you.”
“Ach, no need to thank a man for doing the right thing,” Niall said dismissively, his brows furrowed. “I’m only sorry I didn’t find you sooner. It was a close thing —”
“Are you kidding? I’d have drowned if not for you.” She frowned. “Though I have to say, I can’t remember a thing about what happened. It’s strange — I just — my memory goes from where I was before the Sidhe brought me here, to waking up in this bed with your son staring at me.”
Niall laughed. “Aye, he’s a bit of a handful.”
“I hope he’s okay? I don’t think the kind of disease I had was infectious, but —”
“He’s just fine.” Niall gestured at the tray. “Now, I think you ought to eat something. Maggie said it’s important for you to regain your strength.”
It was a hearty breakfast and exactly what she needed now that she was rested and the worst of her fever and nausea was gone. It seemed her digestive system was more than ready to start replenishing her energy stores with whatever came to hand. What was under the cover on the tray was a huge bowl of what looked like oatmeal, and alongside it a plate of bacon and fried eggs — it looked for all the world like the kind of hearty breakfast her father always used to have with her brothers when they were going off on their famous fishing trips. The thought of her father must have cast a shadow across her face, because she sensed Niall leaning in a little, a curious look on his handsome face.
“How is it?”
“Delicious,” she said quickly around a mouthful of hot bacon, anxious to reassure him that her wistful expression had nothing to do with the food he’d brought her. “Really. I was just thinking about how much my father would have loved a breakfast like this. He’s… he’s a long way away now, isn’t he?”
“Aye,” Niall said softly, not looking away from her face. There was something comforting in that — in the way he didn’t flinch from the subject. “Aye, you’re a long way from home, I’m afraid, Helen.”
“A long way, and a long… time.” She bit her lip. Now that her fever was gone, in the cold light of day, she was feeling a little more resistance to the idea that she’d truly traveled through time. But what other explanation was there? “Is there… is there any way back?”
“I don’t think so,” Niall said. “From what I know of the women who’ve come before you… well, they’re all still here, aren’t they? They’ve made lives here. If there’s a way back, they haven’t shared it with me.”
“Better than drowning,” Helen said softly, trying to look on the bright side. “I mean, if I was offered the choice of dying in that river or leaving my family forever and ending up here for the rest of my life… well, I know which one I’d choose.”
Niall looked curious. “A river, you say? What happened?”
Helen’s eyes widened as she realized how little Niall must know about the strange woman lying in his guest room. “Of course — you don’t know anything about where I’ve come from.”
“I mean, you said a few wild things when we spoke the other day,” Niall said, raising an eyebrow with an amused smile dancing across his face. “But nothing I could make much sense of. Something about a man you were with, and a vehicle you were trapped in —”
“Right.” She took a deep breath. “Well, it’s a long and probably very strange story, Niall.”
“I’d love to hear it. Provided you’re strong enough,” he added hastily.
She nodded absently as she finished her mouthful of bacon, her mind racing. How could she even begin to tell a man from the sixteenth century about her life back home?
Chapter 8
“Well,” she started thoughtfully. “Where to begin.”
“At the beginning,” Niall suggested, sitting back in the chair that was
set up near her bed.
She laughed a little, giving that idea some thought. “I suppose. Well, the beginning was that I was born in West Virginia.”
“Where’s that, then?”
She sighed, her mind ticking over her American History classes back in high school. “Well, at the moment it … doesn’t exist. Not by that name, at any rate, and it wouldn’t look much like it does in my memories. Well, maybe some parts would,” she added, thinking back to the wild corners of her home state that she and her brothers had played on when they were children.
“A distant, exotic country,” Niall said thoughtfully, a smile playing about his lips.
He’s a good listener, she thought with some surprise — there was something about the attentive way he was looking at her that told her she had his full attention. And somehow, despite his focus, she didn’t feel intimidate or put on the spot — there was no pressure to be entertaining like she usually felt in situations like this. Emboldened, she smiled as she continued.
“I mean, it wasn’t too exotic to us.” She shrugged. “But compared to this place… yeah, I suppose it would be pretty unfamiliar. Anyway, me and my brothers grew up there. We were pretty poor — my dad is a mechanic, which kept a roof over our heads, but we never had too much —”
“A mechanic?” Niall asked, his head tilted to the side.
She felt an odd lump in her throat as she realized the source of his confusion. “Yeah. A mechanic. A person who works on… cars. Maintains their engines, that kind of thing… of course, you guys don’t have cars.”
“You were speaking about cars when you first woke up,” Niall said thoughtfully. “What is a car, exactly? Some kind of vehicle?”
“Yeah. Like — like a cart, I guess. Like a horse and carriage?” she suggested suddenly, thinking of old historical books she’d read. “But instead of being pulled by a horse, there’s an engine that spins the wheels for you.” She winced. Her father would be grousing about how inaccurate she was being. God, she wished her father was here. He’d probably already be halfway through putting a real engine together to show everyone... and she realized abruptly that her eyes were full of tears and her heart was pounding with a surprising and unfamiliar feeling of dread and panic.
Niall was leaning forward, concern vivid in his green eyes. “Helen. Are you alright?”
“Sorry,” she whispered, trying to get control of herself, furious that her mind had lost its grip for even a second. “Sorry, I just — I think a lot of it’s still sinking in.”
“Of course it is,” he said softly, and to her surprise he took her hand in his. The warmth of his reassuring grip, the gentle pressure of his hands on hers and the care and warmth in his green eyes… she found herself settling, found the panic in her mind beginning to recede. “It’s an enormous adjustment… not just for your body, but for your mind, too. You take as much time as you need, Helen. We don’t need to talk about where you’re from if you don’t want to —”
“No,” she said quickly. “No, I think — I think it’s helpful. To talk it out. The more I talk about it, the more I can convince myself that… that it’s really happening, I guess. That I’m really here. There are a lot of … neural pathways I have to fix.” She took a deep breath. The language of brain anatomy was probably not particularly helpful here. Sure enough, Niall looked a little mystified… but he still looked interested in what she had to say.
“Okay. You were telling me about your father — that he worked on cars.”
“Yeah. He’s retired now, but when we were kids… yeah, he worked a lot. Then Mom got sick. Cancer,” she explained, wondering as she did whether people in the sixteenth century knew what cancer was. “A kind of … wasting illness, I guess. She got sick when I was a teenager — she managed to hang on for twelve years, but she died a few years ago.”
“I’m sorry,” Niall said softly. “Losing a parent… my own mother passed not long ago.”
She squeezed his hand, feeling an unexpected rush of sympathy and gratitude for this near-stranger’s support. But there was something else in his eyes — a kind of hesitation, a look she knew well from her work. The look of a man who was trying to decide whether to tell her something.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” she said gently, hiding her keen interest in whatever it was that he was keeping from her. She let the silence stretch a little… but Niall had clearly decided that whatever it was, it could wait. He sat back in his chair, gesturing at her breakfast.
“Eat up. Before it gets cold.”
“Spoken like a dad,” she said, amused despite herself, as she took another bite of porridge. The food was certainly hitting the spot — she felt like there was a bottomless pit in her stomach that the food was barely scraping the sides of. “How old’s your little man?”
“Oh, Eamon? He’s four. Not that you’d know it, to listen to him. As far as he’s concerned he’s a grown adult and everybody around him is just being rude when they stop him from getting into all kinds of mischief.”
“He seems like a handful.” Helen smiled.
“Two handfuls,” Niall corrected her darkly. “Three, on a bad day. And there’ve been a lot of bad days, since…” He sighed, his expression suddenly shadowed. “We lost Eamon’s mother a while ago also.”
A memory came back to Helen in a rush, then — a memory from when she’d just woken up and was feeling feverish and lost. A memory of the little boy, his bright eyes imperious as he informed her that his mother was dead. She’d forgotten all that, in the rush of events that had followed, and she felt a deep pang of guilt at having let such an important piece of information slip by her. “Of course. Eamon told me.”
“He did? That’s strange. He doesn’t talk about her much. I can tell how hard he’s taking her loss, of course, but it’s hard to get him to talk about it. You know what they’re like.”
Helen nodded. “Not personally, but I had three younger brothers growing up. I know how boys can be. My brother Davey was an utter nightmare at that age. Nonstop tantrums.” She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, about your wife. I can’t imagine how hard that must be.”
Niall nodded, his grief clear on his face.
She knew that look very well. That was the look of a man who’d decided that his own grief, his own sadness, was less important than continuing on, than looking after the people around him. He was a caregiver first, she could tell. Men like that were generally wonderful fathers and husbands — but they’d burn themselves out if they weren’t offered the opportunity to care for themselves, too. She wondered, idly, if there was another woman in Niall’s life these days — a woman who’d care for him the way he clearly cared for his son.
“Erin was a wonderful woman.”
“What happened to her? If I can ask — please don’t feel like you have to talk about it if you don’t want to —”
“She drowned,” he said simply. “It was awful. She’d always been such a strong swimmer… I spent a long time not understanding what could have happened. But the Loch’s a dangerous place, even for those who spend their life here. Her loss… it’s been a reminder to keep my guard up. I don’t intend to lose anyone else to the waters.”
Helen nodded, feeling sympathy welling up in her chest for this near-stranger. “You’re the harbormaster, right? What does that mean, exactly?”
He smiled. “It means I’m in charge around here. More practically, it means that every problem anyone has on the docks or on the Loch is also my problem. I spend most of my days mediating arguments between fishermen about where they moor their boats. Or chasing after Eamon,” he added darkly. “Speaking of — he’s been quiet for longer than I’m happy with. I’d best go and check he hasn’t run off.”
“He’d do that?”
“Oh, aye. He loves it. Loves the Loch, loves the water. And he’s a good little swimmer, but … well, there’s things in the water … it just isn’t safe for a young lad on his own.”
“What kind of things? Fish?” There i
t was again — that look of hesitation, that expression that indicated that he was keeping something from her. What could it be? Something about the Loch? Huge fish, dangerous creatures? It was possible he didn’t want to alarm her — after all, she’d almost drowned in the water. But she could feel her old investigative curiosity firing up again, tempting her to ask a few more questions about the Loch.
“Aye, fish among other things,” he said evasively now.
She sighed, finishing the last scoop of her oatmeal with the certain knowledge that he wasn’t going to tell her what she wanted to know just yet. Well, that was fine. She could be patient. After all — she was in medieval Scotland. What else did she have to do?
“I think you’d best get some rest now.”
“I think so,” she agreed, fighting the urge to yawn. “God, I feel like I’ve been asleep for two weeks.”
“You’ve been through a lot,” he said gently, reaching out unexpectedly to touch her shoulder. “There’ll be plenty of time to get out and about once you’re well again, alright? For now — rest. I’ll be back to check on you in a few hours. And bring you some lunch,” he added with a wink. “I do admire a woman with a good appetite.”
And with that, he was gone, leaving her to her own devices. She did watch him go, a slight blush rising to her cheeks as she realized how carefully she was studying his figure, the broad shape of his shoulders under the tunic he was wearing, his height… she always had liked tall men. Not that she had any dating experience to speak of… God, what was she doing, thinking about dating? For all she knew, Niall had remarried after the death of Eamon’s mother. Or perhaps he was courting a local woman… a man that gorgeous surely wouldn’t be alone for long? At any rate, it didn’t matter. She had more than enough on her plate right now without adding a stupid crush on the harbormaster who’d saved her from drowning to the list. She felt a pang, thinking of that — had he thought of his wife, when he rescued her from the Loch? Hopefully it had been good for him to save someone from drowning…
Needed By The Highlander: A Scottish Time Travel Romance (Highlander Forever Book 5) Page 5
