Finding My Highlander

by Aleigha Siron

  “I have something to tell you, Struan, and you too, Lorne. Rabbie and Kendrick are already aware of what I’m about to disclose.”

  “Andra, what in God’s name are you on about?” Kendrick yelled. She almost laughed at his shocked expression, but now was not the time for levity. Besides, she suspected he’d be even more shocked before she finished her speech.

  She tossed the broadsword to land close to Struan’s feet and then raised the bow and arrow, aiming it directly at Struan’s heart. “Don’t reach for it yet, just listen to me.”

  He pulled his arms across his chest, stood to his full formidable height, a fierce scowl wrinkling his brow. “Now, what is this nonsense? You think to threaten me with your wee bow and arrow. You’d be dead a’fore the arrow pierced my heart assuming your aim is true.” He cast an anxious glance toward his companions, perhaps not quite so certain of his claim. He bluffed, as he well knew she possessed excellent aim.

  “I have no desire to harm any of you. I love you all as though you were my family, my blood, and I think my actions have proven that sufficiently. But…” she took a deep breath and focused steely attention on one man.

  “Struan, do you see that I hold your life in my hands?”

  “Mayhap, mayhap no,” he grumbled lifting his chin boldly.

  “Good, now pick up the sword at your feet.”

  “Andra, stop this!” Kendrick started to move and she swung the arrow toward him. “What are you doing? I can see your mind awhirl with some mad scheme. Put down your weapon, Andra, before someone is hurt.” His rigid stance suggested he might be questioning everything she’d told him. Perhaps he wondered if she was insane or a witch after all.

  “I will do this my way, Kendrick. Please just hold your peace and give me a moment.” Swinging back to Struan, she said, “Pick up your sword, Struan.”

  He warily reached for his sword without taking his eyes off her. She released a sigh of relief because so much hinged on the wild tactic she had decided upon. Struan was the most superstitious of the bunch and what he would shortly witness could have devastating consequences to her and possibly to everyone else.

  “Will you allow me to speak without threat, until you’ve heard everything I wish to tell you?” She stared at Struan and glanced quickly to Lorne. Lorne lifted his palms in supplication.

  Struan answered, “Aye, whatever grave news you have to impart, I will listen. You needn’t threaten my life for the consideration.”

  “Good.” Never wavering, she dropped the bow to the dirt and lifted her arms wide. “You now hold my life in your hands, my friend. What I’m about to tell you will be shocking, no doubt, but consider that Kendrick and Rabbie have already been apprised of this information and have accepted it as truth.”

  She squared her shoulders, keeping her arms outstretched, she took a great gulp of breath and plunged ahead. “I am from the future, from many, many years and a place far away in the future.” So began the saga of her time travel to when they found her and why they had returned here today. Before she half-finished the story, Struan tipped his sword into the ground, his mouth agape in astonishment.

  When she finished, she lowered one arm, fisted the other hand, and pointed a finger at Struan. “And I do not want to hear you accusing me of being a witch again. Do you understand me, Struan? I won’t stand for it. I do not understand how this happened. We have come here today to find out if this time travel thing can be reversed.”

  “Is this some sort of crazy joke?” asked Lorne. Struan stammered incoherently.

  “Nae,” Rabbie laughed. “‘Tis no joke. Andra has shown us information that makes her story plausible, though downright astounding.”

  “Have all of you completely lost your minds?” Clearly, Struan could not grasp Andra’s disclosure. “I do not find this amusing.”

  Kendrick burst into raucous laughter. He turned to Andra shaking his head. “You’ll have to grant him that you are a wee bit mad. After all, who in their right mind would hand Struan his claymore and then rattle his senses with such an outburst. You might have considered a more orthodox method of disclosing your story.” Then he burst out laughing so hard he had to gasp for breath.

  “Well, ‘tis unbelievable. Absolute madness and nothing less,” Struan sputtered, his face blanched of all color. “I cannae comprehend what you’re saying. If ever there was witchery...” He stopped abruptly as both Kendrick and Andra glared daggers at him. Struan continued to stare at Andra as though a fearful apparition had appeared in their midst. “Mayhap she has bewitched all of you.”

  She did not want this to end in an altercation between Kendrick and his most trusted men. She must convince Struan, so she marched up to him and stood, once again toe-to-toe in challenge. “There is no witchery, and no one has been bewitched. Can we just agree that there are many mysteries in this universe that no one understands and due to some bizarre quirk of nature I find myself inexplicably here—in your time—a time that is not my own. I am not a witch. I am only flesh and blood, no different than you.”

  “Do you think I’m insane, Struan? Do ye doubt your laird?” Kendrick had adopted his most lairdly timbre, and she could feel the heat of him as he moved to stand behind her.

  Struan did not look at her, but at a point over her shoulder. “Well now, that ‘tis not exactly what I meant. I would ne’er disparage you, Kendrick, but I’m having great trouble accepting her declaration.”

  He blew an exasperated huff toward the roof as if he would find an answer etched in the rock above his head. “Mayhap the wee fairy folk are playing mischief with us.” He finally turned his gaze on Andra. “However, I’ll not dispute the matter with you. I owe you a boon for leveling the odds against my opponents in our recent battle. And if there’s magic in you, it has only been to our good. Though I’ll not deny it unsettles the mind, but if Kendrick and Rabbie believe this wild story, then I will not argue.”

  Kendrick turned her toward him and swung her into his arms, pressing a firm kiss on her mouth. “You’re going to be the death of me, woman. I am not in favor of this scheme you’ve set your mind to, but now we’re here let us see to it.”

  By late afternoon, they had arrived at the place by the boulder where Andra had landed that fateful day. The men reluctantly left her alone while she laid everything out on her plaid. She pulled the urn onto her lap and rubbed its smooth surface like a talisman.

  “Well, Dad, it’s now or never.” Her voice sounded loud in the sudden quiet around her. “I wish you could advise me because to tell the truth, I don’t think anything remains for me in San Francisco or my time. Everything I’ve ever wanted seems to be right here. Does that sound completely ridiculous?”

  “Of course it does, but you are the one who sent me here. Perhaps you didn’t specifically plan to toss me through a time portal into 1705, but that’s what happened.” She removed the lid and held up the urn listening for the rumble of horses’ hooves.

  * * *

  She was a wild one, and Kendrick would never be the same if she left him this day. Yet, he could not suppress the delight she elicited with her antics, no matter how unorthodox her methods. The hardest moment in the last few days came when he led his men into the forest, leaving Andra sitting on her plaid with all her possessions spread around her. It took considerable will not to beg her to reconsider, not to grab her onto his horse and hare into the hills. Unfortunately, he knew she had to get it out of her system and he must allow it, even though a part of him wanted to throw her over his shoulder, carry her back to his castle, and tie her to his bed. An erotic image jumped into his head at the thought of her lashed to his bed, naked with her auburn hair spilling across his pillow.

  The men had not talked between themselves since leaving Andra. They stopped the horses about a half-mile from where they’d left her.

  Uncharacteristically, Struan spoke first. “Why in bloody hell are we doing this? If you truly believe she’s from the future, and you obviously don’t want her to leave, w
hat are we aboot? What if this is the work of some witch—” Kendrick glared at him. “All right, all right—fairy folk or the like? What will happen to her if she ends up somewhere terrible with no family and no one to take care of her? This is bloody well the stupidest thing we’ve e’er done, and I’m not fookin’ in favor of it. Not at all.” His agitation caused his horse to dance and jump under him.

  Lorne and Rabbie vociferously agreed with Struan.

  Kendrick rubbed a hand through his thick hair, making it stand up on end. “I am not in favor of this either, but it must be done. She will not let it go. It plagues her night and day. She’ll never have a moment’s peace if she does not try this experiment. We’re here. It will soon be done and over with.”

  “And if she doesn’t disappear through the threads of time, brother?” Lorne asked. “What then?”

  “Although it is none of your damn business, I intend to marry her, and I’ll not be naysaid on the matter.”

  “It’s aboot fookin’ time!” exclaimed Struan, startling everyone. The other two men chimed in, resolute in their agreement that he and Andra belonged together.

  “Let’s get it done then.” Kendrick spurred his horse through the trees at a full gallop.

  * * *

  The rumble of horses’ hooves reached her ears. “It’s time, Dad!”

  She tilted the urn with her right hand, rubbed the ruby in her father’s ring with the thumb of her left hand, and let the ashes drift on the wind. “As you requested, Dad, I leave your ashes on the soil of your ancestors. Speak to me, please; help me know my course.”

  Originally, she had planned to withhold a small portion of ashes, just in case. Now, as she watched the men approach, a shaft of light penetrated the trees, illuminated Kendrick’s blond hair, and shimmered around the horses. The filtered sunlight lent the air a burnished orange like fire. It was a replica of the previous night’s nightmare. Kendrick looked like a bronzed god atop his charging horse.

  Holding her breath, she fully upended the urn. “All, or nothing,” she gasped. Andra awaited the crushing blows from the horses’ hooves or their passage, like a whisper of air, through the vacant spot where she had knelt only moments before.

  The scene appeared to her as a dissolving palate of form and color as they roared through the trees; a bit like a Monet painting when standing too close. She wondered if she was already gone, no longer visible to them, just a dissipating vapor on the wind.

  The horses pulled to an abrupt halt a few yards in front of her. Kendrick was the point man, Lorne slightly behind on his right, Rabbie and Struan the wingmen. Kendrick’s horse huffed, tossed his bridle, and stomped his hooves, turning in tight circles, rebelling against the cessation of their gallop.

  The entire vista swam before her in a watercolor wash. When Kendrick slipped off his horse and threw the reins to Lorne, she dropped the urn. “It is done,” she whispered. She could barely see him now.

  His hand reached in her direction. “Saints alive! Andra?” He flicked his wrist, fingers imploring her, “Lass? Is it over? Are ye finished?”

  She sucked in a gasp of air, only then realizing that the watery vision was due to a torrent of tears streaming over the rim of her lashes.

  “Oh my God! I didn’t leave. I’m here.” In a flash, she ran to Kendrick and threw herself into the arms of the man she loved as she had never loved another. “You are here. I am here.” She laughed, cried, and slapped her hands to his face and shoulders, needing assurance that he truly held her in his arms.

  He swung her around, threw back his head, and roared. “You’ll never leave me Andra, I will not allow it. Do you understand me? You are mine. We belong together.” He set her down, the leaf cover of the forest floor thick about her feet. Gripping her wrists, hands crossed one over the other, he asked, “Will you take me as your husband, Andra, freely and without reservation?”

  She gripped his wrists in return, their hands clamped like vices. “Yes, I will marry you, Kendrick. I will marry you and love you for all eternity as God and your clansmen are my witnesses.” She flicked a glance to the men still mounted on their horses.

  “I think this demands a celebration and a good night’s rest.” Lorne exclaimed, and the other men hooted their approval. He pulled out a flask of uisge beatha and they all took a drink, even Andra, who choked a bit on the slow burn that followed.

  They returned to the cave, bundled their belongings and secured the supplies they intended to leave behind, everyone anxious to return home.

  When Kendrick and Andra retired to a room at an inn along the road, he stoked the fire in the brazier and then stripped her slowly, touching her so gently she thought she might melt.

  “My beautiful, fierce, wee banshee. My wife.” He slanted his lips over hers sliding his tongue tantalizingly at the crease, seeking entry. Meeting his urgent strokes with her own she clutched him to her naked body.

  “That bed looks a bit small for two.” she smiled wickedly.

  “Nae love, it will do for tonight, but when I get you back to the castle, I’m tying you to my verra big bed and not letting you leave it for days.”

  “I think we should wait until we make this marriage official before you start tying me to your bed in the castle. There would be no stopping tongues from wagging over that.”

  He stepped back, his hands on her shoulders. “This marriage is already official, wife.”

  “What?” Mouth agape, eyes wide; she had no idea what he meant.

  “Your words earlier, you said you took me to husband and that you loved me. You swore before God and the men, did you not?”

  “Well, yes, but…”

  “That is all it takes in the Highlands, mo chroi. You are mine, we are wed, and no one will take you from me. However, if it’s official you want, we can repeat our vows in the keep with the rest of the family present. I suspect my mother and Isabel will demand it anyway.”

  She realized that he’d laid her on the bed and climbed over her. Heat flamed where his hands roamed, then cooled when they moved to other regions. Their first joining of the night was unrestrained, hot, and fast. But oh, the second time, they came together in sumptuous, slow delight. They nipped and tasted their fill, finally falling into a deep and restful sleep, her lying atop him, her head nestled into the crook of his neck.

  Chapter Forty

  After the evening meal on the first day following their return to the castle, Kendrick stood and with a deep reverberating voice called for silence and the clans’ attention. “I wish to announce that Andra Heather Adair Cameron, daughter of Angus Brian Cameron and—”

  He never finished the announcement. Alith rose from her chair, clutching her throat and gasping for air, then fell to the floor.

  The crowd rumbled with hushed strains of concern and frightened looks at Andra. Obviously, a few had not embraced her as much as surmised. Perhaps more than a few would not rejoice over a union between their laird and a Sassenach who also carried the Cameron name. Enough of them would see Alith’s collapse as a bad omen to the union.

  Andra swooped down to check for a pulse. “She is alive, her pulse strong and steady. Whatever do you think happened?” She gently patted the old woman’s cheek while rubbing her arm. “Alith, can you hear me.”

  Jane knelt beside them and pulled a vial from her skirt. She uncorked the vial and waved it under the old woman’s nose. A strong astringent odor accosted Andra. Alith’s lids fluttered open. Her eyes, milky with age, latched onto Andra. Raising her hand to cup Andra’s cheek she said, “I kenned you were ours, lass, as sure as I breathe, I kenned it. My verra own sweet lassie.”

  Beatrice knelt beside them, “Hush now, Alith. We’ll take you to my rooms where Jane can attend ye.” She tipped her head, a signal to Kendrick.

  Alith refused to relinquish Andra’s hand, grasping with a clawed grip. She kept saying it was in the eyes, and she should have seen it right away. Andra wondered if Alith had suffered a stroke.

  Once settled on a
bed with pillows behind her, Alith asked for a sip of wine.

  “Won’t you allow Andra to leave while Jane examines you, Alith?” Beatrice pleaded.

  “Nae, she must stay with me; I have many questions for my Andra. Don’t fuss now. I’ll be fine, just a bit of lightheadedness ‘twas all. The rest of you may leave us, return to your meal. We’ll send for you if you’re needed.” Despite eyes rheumy with tears, the strength of Alith’s voice brooked no refusal to her request. The others departed, but Kendrick stayed by the bed near Andra, “I will stay with you as well.”

  “Aye, of course, MacLean. What I have to say might interest you”

  Alith’s thumb trailed over Andra’s hand seeking the ruby ring on the middle finger of her right hand, panting slightly as if that small effort exhausted her. “Ye said this ring belonged to your da, is that nae right?”

  “Yes, my father said it had passed down from his grandfather to his father then to him. It’s a family heirloom.” Andra recalled how Alith had expressed great interest in her rings when they first met.

  “Why did ye not tell us, my dear?”

  “Tell you what?” Andra asked, keeping her voice low and soothing. Alith’s agitation concerned her, especially since she’d sent Jane away.

  “Did ye not say your father told you his family had died, that he had nae clan remaining in the Highlands?”

  “Yes, his parents died fairly young. My mother’s father met him—I don’t remember where—and invited him to live with my mother’s family for a short while before he attended university. In fact, my mother’s parents helped pay for his education.”

  “And what were your parents’ full names, Andra? I don’t recall we ever discussed that, did we?”

  “I can’t say that we did, Lady Alith. My mother was Gillian Edna Adair and my father was Angus Brian Cameron, although everyone called him Brian.”

  A choked sound rasped in the old woman’s throat. “I am not familiar with the Adair clan,” she whispered, shaking her head, her hands trembling.