Highlander’s Curse

by Melissa Mayhue

  “I’d hoped to do this the easy way, Abigail, but you thwart me at every turn. You’re leaving me no choice, love.”

  He’d flipped out. Total off-the-wall bonkers. And she hadn’t a clue what he intended or what she should do. Except get away. She knew she had to get away.

  She grasped at straws. “No, no. . . you have choices. There are lots of choices, Jonathan. We always have choices,” she babbled, her voice little more than a squeak in her desperation to escape him.

  “We’ll see,” he answered, tightening his grip on her wrist as he reached his other hand into his pocket, pulling out his gold knife.

  That couldn’t be good. “What? What do you think you’re doing? Jonathan? You’re frightening me. Let go of me right now.”

  He drew her hand to his lips for a kiss, overpowering her struggles as if she were a child. Lowering the hand, he chuckled, a wicked light in his eyes as he sliced into the tip of her index finger with his knife.

  Seventeen

  As if the Fates themselves had intervened in his life this day, absolutely nothing had gone as Colin had planned. He felt as though he’d been blocked at every turn, from his arrival at Swan House only to learn Abby had already gone, right down to the lorry driver sitting beside him now.

  Having missed Abby, he’d gone to the pub to ask after transportation out to the dig site. Though the village had no official taxi service, one of the older gents in the pub had offered to drive him. Though the walk to the man’s home was short in distance, it was far enough for Colin to realize the elderly man had already had far too much of the fine Scots whisky to be operating a vehicle of any sort. He could barely walk without stumbling.

  He left the man at his front door, thanking him profusely for his offer but refusing, and headed back to the pub only to be stopped by Mrs. MacKee.

  The memory of the feisty, white-haired woman perched on the top step of a tall ladder still had him shaking his head in disbelief. After he’d left her home this morning, she’d decided to take it upon herself to repair the top of her garden gate. The woman was an accident waiting to happen. Had he not chanced upon her when he did, he had no doubt she’d be in bed with broken bones at this very moment.

  He’d had no choice but to offer his assistance. How could he not? One simply did not leave an elderly woman to fend for herself. At least not where he came from.

  Four hours and a lovely lunch later—she’d insisted and would not take no for an answer—he was finally free to go find Abby.

  Mrs. MacKee arranged for him to catch a ride with the lorry driver who’d stopped to deliver a package to her neighbor, and as he’d waved his farewell, he’d once again felt in control of his day. Until, that is, Big Mike had told him he could take him only part of the way to where he wanted to go.

  “Here’s the crossroads, lad. You’ll but need to head down that wee lane a few kilometers to find yer friend. It’s sorry I am to be dropping you off in this weather, but it’s the rain itself that’s left it too muddy for me to risk taking this big lorry down there. It’s a heavy load I’m hauling today, and I dinna care to be calling my supervisor to report meself stuck.”

  “Of course. My thanks to you again, Big Mike.”

  Colin climbed down from the lorry and began his trek on the muddy lane as the old vehicle’s gears ground out a noisy farewell.

  The silence had barely settled around him before his thoughts turned to Abby and how anxious he was to reach her. Perhaps the overriding anxiety he experienced was only natural now that he’d located her. Seeing her yesterday had confirmed for him how real his dreams of her had been. It was as if he’d seen her, touched her, every single day since they’d first met.

  And yet he must remember that those encounters were only dreams.

  She hadn’t really spent every night in his bed, in his arms. She didn’t feel the sense of intimacy he imagined existed between them. In fact, what had happened when he’d finally spoken to her outside the dreams? He’d wasted the moment by promptly driving her away.

  Not a waste, he corrected himself. A learning experience. When he reached her this time, he’d use some self-restraint. He could do that. He’d successfully exercised a remarkable amount of self-restraint just last night at their parting. Instead of sweeping her into his arms and carrying her to the nearest bed, he’d sent her to her rest at the inn. When he found her today, he’d draw once again on that same self-restraint. He’d explain the situation slowly, rationally, allowing her time to adjust to him and to the truth of what had happened.

  Such an encounter would have to be easier than pushing her away had been last night.

  His only regret was that he couldn’t remain in this time long enough to get to know her better in reality rather than in dreams. But she was not his fate. He’d recognized from the first time he’d seen her that she’d already met the man fate intended for her, her Soulmate.

  As for him, he was meant to return to his own time to save his friends. And his only connection to Abby was that she was meant to return him there.

  The sound of an approaching vehicle interrupted his thoughts, and he stepped back from the lane to wait for the oncoming car to round the curve and pass him.

  Not one vehicle but two appeared, both white, mud-splattered vans approaching slowly. The first passed him by, a few of the occupants lifting a hand in greeting to a stranger as they went. The second, wheels sliding on the slick lane, pulled to a stop and a young woman rolled down her window. The same young woman he’d noticed watching him after Abby had stormed out of the pub last night.

  “You’re Abby Porter’s friend, aren’t you? Did you come out here looking for her?”

  “I am,” he responded, moving closer to the van. “Is she in there with you?”

  “No.” Her voice wavered as if she was reluctant to answer. “But you’re welcome to hop in here with us and ride back to town.”

  Not likely. He’d come for Abby and he intended to see her. “Where is Abby?”

  The woman tapped a clipboard she held against the window frame, her brow furrowed as she came to some sort of a decision. “Look, from what I saw in the pub last night, I don’t get the impression Abby’s all that anxious to see you again, sport.”

  “She’s back at the site,” someone yelled from inside the van. “About half a mile. Let it go, Mac. Abby’s personal life is none of your business.”

  “You left her alone out there?” He made no attempt to hide the accusation in his voice. These people were supposed to be Abby’s friends.

  “She’s not alone,” Mac snapped back. “Jonathan’s with her.”

  Whatever else the woman might have had to say, he hadn’t the time nor the inclination to listen. Nor did he bother with the slow pace of his earlier travels, instead breaking into a steady run to cover the remaining ground as quickly as possible. With each footstep, one thought reverberated through his mind: Those people had done far worse than strand Abby alone in the forest. They’d left her in the company of the Nuadian.

  Finding her now was no problem. He could feel her not far ahead, her soul shining like a beacon in the dark. As he expected, she wasn’t alone. The soul with hers was dark and fouled whereas hers shone a pure, bright gold.

  They did not belong together.

  The relief brought on by that realization was shortlived, shattered into painful shards by a scream piercing the forest.

  Abby’s scream.

  Eighteen

  Fighting him was an exercise in futility. Abby had never once imagined anyone could have such physical strength.

  Even as that knowledge sparked through her consciousness, ratcheting up her fear, she struggled to free her wrists from Jonathan’s grip, clawing at his face with the hand he held close while he continued to suck on her index finger.

  “Let me go!” she screamed at him, resorting to kicking his shins when all else failed.

  “I feel it,” he laughed, lowering her hand from his mouth but pulling her body closer, crushing her
to him. His eyes glittered with a terrifying mania. “I feel it all and I want more!”

  He dropped his head to the crook of her neck, roughly scraping his teeth across her tender skin. The trail of his tongue over the spot stung and she kicked again, connecting so hard that she feared for an instant she might have broken her toe.

  “Again,” he demanded, laughing as he backed her up against a large tree trunk. “Do your worst, my love. I want to feel more!”

  Through the haze of her desperation, her mind only faintly registered the bark digging into her back, the wet silk she wore no protection at all.

  Helpless. She was absolutely helpless against him. Nothing she did made the slightest difference. She should have taken those self-defense classes last year. Should have stayed in bed this morning. Should have given up archaeology and learned to serve a wicked cup of coffee. Should have done anything that would have kept her from this terrifying moment.

  Though there was no one to hear, she screamed again, this time as much in anger and frustration as in fear. He had no right to do this. She had no way to stop him.

  He crushed his lips over hers, jamming his tongue in her mouth, muffling her cry.

  There was no one to come to her rescue. No one to hear her. No one to help. If she had any chance of getting out of this, she had only her own wits as weapons.

  Now if she could only gather those wits. Or even find them to gather.

  “Move away from the woman, Nuadian!”

  Colin?

  He stepped from behind a tree, perhaps ten feet away from where they stood. Though the gap between them felt like a gulf, he was here!

  “Nuadian, is it?” Jonathan angled his body toward Colin’s, shoving her to the ground as he faced off against the newcomer. “Is it a Guardian I face, then? Am I to believe this to be mere coincidence?”

  Abby scrambled back, digging her heels into the mud as she pushed herself onto her knees.

  “I don’t give a damn what you believe, Nuadian. I only want you gone from this place.”

  Abby froze, the steely menace in Colin’s voice sending a shiver up her spine.

  “Ah, but you see, Guardian, what you want is of no importance to me. Only what I want matters.” From inside his jacket, Jonathan produced a gun, aiming the weapon directly at Colin. “And what I want is the woman.”

  This wouldn’t do. Not at all. She had to do something. Colin might be crazy, spouting all that crap about being from the past, but he hadn’t hesitated to jump to her defense in an attempt to rescue her. She could do no less for him.

  Desperately scanning the ground for a rock or a stick or anything at all she could use for defense, Abby’s eyes lit on the little gold knife Jonathan had dropped.

  Slowly, Abby snaked her hand forward until her fingers touched the handle of the small knife. She kept her eyes glued on the two men who glared at each other across the open ground.

  Got it! As her hand closed around the handle, she realized she had no idea what to do next. The knife wasn’t large enough to do any real damage. It was really only good enough for one thing. Distraction.

  Pushing up onto her haunches, she lifted her arm in preparation.

  “Getting out of here with Abigail is no problem.” Jonathan babbled on as if thinking aloud. “But what am I to do with you, Guardian? I can’t very well leave you behind to alert everyone to what I’ve done, and I’ve certainly no desire to take you along with us. Seems to me that leaves only one—”

  Whatever dark ending he envisioned for Colin was lost in a blood-curdling scream as Abby slammed the blade of the knife deep into the back of his thigh, driving the little weapon in and down with all her strength.

  He dropped the gun, clawing at the back of his leg, and she threw her weight against him. Off balance, he fell to the ground while she scrambled away, racing to Colin and past.

  “Come on.” She tugged at his arm, ignoring the look on his face. “Come on!” Whether he was amazed or horrified by what she’d just done, she didn’t have time to discuss it now.

  She ran for all she was worth, the sound of Jonathan’s screams fading as the distance between them grew.

  After several minutes, Colin latched on to her arm, pulling her to a stop.

  “Where are you leading us?”

  “According to the locals,” she managed between gasps, “there are caves up ahead.”

  Surely one of them would be large enough that she could force herself to go inside. They could hide there until she could think of what they’d need to do next. Maybe even until someone came looking for them. She only hoped that the someone would be a rescuer and not the homicidal maniac they’d left behind them.

  “Good enough,” Colin grunted, sounding not the least bit winded. “Though I dinna understand how you were able to injure the Nuadian unless. . .”

  They didn’t have time for this nonsense. Stabbing Jonathan didn’t mean she was a bad person. It had been an absolute necessity. In doing it, she’d probably saved Colin’s life, for God’s sake. She’d certainly saved him from getting shot.

  “I had to. I had no choice.” The excuse sounded hollow, especially in light of her having rejected Jonathan’s use of the same words.

  “Has he taken yer blood, Abby?”

  “What?” Their conversation had slipped totally into the surreal right along with everything else that was happening. Not just surreal. Bizarre. Nightmarish. Enough so that she half-expected to awaken from this horrible dream at any moment.

  Colin grabbed her shoulders, giving her a little shake. “Did he ingest any of yer blood? Answer me!”

  The thought of Jonathan sucking on her finger after slicing it open floated through her mind. “I guess he did.”

  In response, Colin merely nodded, whatever emotion her answer elicited hidden behind the expressionless mask he wore. He slid his hand from her shoulder and entangled his fingers with hers to pull her along after him in the direction she’d indicated, moving them much more quickly than the pace she’d initially set.

  The locals who’d spoken of the caves had said they were small, some no more than a large indentation. Those wouldn’t work. They’d require one of the larger ones to hide in. Right now what she wanted was the largest, deepest, darkest cave in the entire mountain range.

  Pulling against Colin’s hold, she slowed her steps once again.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Just give me a second.” She bent over, hand at her waist, buying time. Concentrating, she watched the tendrils in her mind’s eye fanning out over the mountainside until one began to glow.

  “The largest of the caves is this way.”

  She straightened and pointed in the direction she’d seen in her mind, and they were off. Halfway up the rocky slope, she slowed again, checking to make sure they were still headed toward the largest cave. She didn’t have to feign needing a breather this time, not with the pace Colin had set for them.

  “We have to keep moving to stay ahead of Flynn,” Colin cautioned, his eyes scanning the area behind them.

  “I know.” Except that the farther removed she got from what had happened, the more she wanted to believe it was over, like some horrible aberration of reality. Maybe Jonathan had given up. That knife in his leg had to be powerfully painful. Maybe the pain had brought him back to his senses.

  “I bet he’s gone back to town. I don’t think he’d stay out here with that wound. I can’t imagine that he’s still following us.”

  The sound of her last words hadn’t yet died on her lips when a sharp metallic pop rang out, followed by a crack that sent chips flying off the rocks less than a foot from where she stood.

  “Move!” Colin ordered, dragging her after him. “Stay low to the brush until we’re in the trees again.”

  “Was that . . .” She couldn’t finish the thought aloud, not and continue to gasp for air as they ran. It had sounded like a firecracker.

  “Bullet,” Colin hissed over his shoulder. “Yer imagination must be rust
y.”

  Back in the trees, she tugged at his hand, pointing in the direction they needed to go until, at last, they reached the little opening.

  “This is somebody’s idea of a cave?” It looked like little more than an opening between some rocks.

  “Animal den. Get in and move to the back,” Colin ordered, shoving her to the ground as another pop sounded somewhere behind them.

  She closed her eyes and forced herself to scramble into the dark opening, shoving back against the cold rocks to make room for Colin.

  Only Colin wasn’t crawling in behind her.

  “What are you doing?” she hissed, afraid to raise her voice but equally frightened of being left alone as his legs disappeared down the trail past her hiding spot.

  Moments later his body reappeared in the opening, the light from outside almost completely blocked as he crawled in backward, tucking a bushy limb in the opening behind him.

  “Misdirection,” he explained, scooting in next to her and looping his arm around her shoulders. “It will slow him down, but it willna do more than buy us a bit of time at best. We must leave this place, Abby. It’s the only way.”

  The eerily familiar words rattled her. As if she didn’t know already that they needed to get out of here.

  “You have any bright ideas on how we’re to do that with him out there shooting at us? Because I’m fresh out.”

  Which was probably just as well since her whole hide-in-a-cave thing had pretty much bombed. Instead she was holed up in some bear cave with the man of her dreams, but instead of having a romantic tryst, they were waiting to be shot or eaten.

  Though, in truth, as small as this place was, it would have to be a pretty small bear, so maybe eaten was a slight exaggeration. If they even had bears in Scotland.

  And to think Colin had doubted the might of her imagination.

  As if a crazed gunman and bear or lack of them weren’t enough for her imagination to practice on, there was also the fact that they were crammed into a hole in the ground. The weight of the mountain could simply collapse the whole thing on them at any moment, burying them alive.