Highlander’s Curse

by Melissa Mayhue

  Of course he’d gone and ruined it all this morning by trying to convince her to let him abandon her at his sister’s house. Though, thinking about it now, his attempt had seemed almost halfhearted.

  “Yer no much of a morning person, are you?”

  How long they’d been on the road when Colin at last slowed enough to ask his question, she had no idea. What she did know was that between the heat and the pounding she was taking on the horse, she was in no mood for any attempt at light conversation.

  “I’m a great morning person when my morning is anything even remotely resembling civilized. Anyway, I think we left morning quite a ways behind us.” The rumble of her stomach as much as the sun in the sky assured her she was correct.

  “We can stop for a short rest and a cold meal if you need to.”

  She briefly considered refusing just so she could show him that she could keep going as long as he could, but her growling stomach won out.

  “Good. Let’s do that.”

  She pulled up on her reins and slid off her horse. The earth greeted her feet much sooner and much more forcefully than she expected, buckling her knees. Only her grip on the side of her saddle kept her from landing on her butt.

  Though staying on her feet would probably be smarter, she found herself a fallen log and sat down on it, amazed at how comfortable it could feel to sit without having to straddle something.

  Colin handed her more of the bread, cheese, and dried fruit they’d brought along with them and she settled back, munching quietly, deciding that she was quickly developing an aversion to all three foods.

  Thunder rolled in the distance and she glanced toward the sound, noticing for the first time the dark clouds that filled the southern sky.

  “Think we’ll get rained on?” Soggy was what she’d come to expect from Scotland. At least it had been back in her time, though, come to think of it, she hadn’t seen a single drop since she’d been here.

  Colin shrugged and finished off the last of his meal. “It would be a welcome rain. The summer has been hot and much drier than most. The sheep are suffering for it.”

  “Are we headed in that direction, do you think? Toward the storm?” She wasn’t particularly fond of traveling into those lightning strikes.

  “That we are.” Colin stood and held out a hand to help her to her feet. “Mayhaps we’ll get lucky with a shower today.”

  Right. Lucky. The only thing she could imagine that would be more uncomfortable than a day spent on horseback would be a day spent on horseback soaked to the skin.

  “No rain. Hear that, whoever controls this stuff? No rain.”

  Her poor, tired leg felt like an anchor when she lifted her foot into the stirrup, enough so that she didn’t make a sound of protest when Colin fastened his hands around her waist and boosted her up onto her mount. She even managed a mumbled “Thanks.”

  It didn’t take long to realize he’d been right. They were on a direct course to intersect with the storm.

  Colin allowed his horse to drop back next to hers for long enough to point out what passed for rain gear in this century. “You’ve a woolen there under yer pack. If we do hit the rains, wrap it over yer shoulders and head. It’ll keep you dry for the better part.”

  They hadn’t ridden much farther before the ground shook with the next peal of thunder, almost at the same time as the sky lit up around them.

  “Hey,” she called, urging her horse to pull even with Colin’s. “That was really close. We need to get away from these trees. It’s a very bad place for us to be in a storm like this. Trees and lightning are not a good mix.”

  The look of irritation he cast her way was well deserved, she’d admit. She realized there was little he could do but to keep moving them forward. Still, that didn’t mean that she wasn’t going to point out the obvious when she felt it needed pointing out.

  Another crack of thunder rumbled so close by, she could swear she felt the hairs on her arm stand on end.

  “This is so not a smart place to be,” she called out. “Isn’t there a house or a castle or a . . . a something around here we can go to? Isn’t there at least a—”

  She bit off her words as just ahead of her he pulled his horse to a sharp stop, holding up his hand as if to silence her.

  “Do you smell that?” He’d pushed up in his saddle, his head pivoting to scan the horizon in all directions.

  She breathed in deeply, noticing for the first time that both their horses were testing the breeze as well.

  “Smoke? Is that smoke?”

  “Fire,” he confirmed, pointing behind them toward the haze gathering in the direction from which they’d come. “I’d hazard a guess the lightning has struck dry tinder back there.”

  A wildfire?

  “What do we do? Are there any people we should warn?” Now that she was aware of the fire, the smell of smoke seemed much stronger than it had only seconds before.

  “We ride. Stay close to me and keep up. The river crossing is no too much farther ahead. Once we make it across, we’ll be safe.”

  “We might be safe, but what about the people who live around here?” Surely they needed to be warned.

  “There are no people around here, Abby. We’re in the middle of miles of nothing but blessed nature. Now quiet yer blethering and concentrate on keeping up with me.”

  Almost before she could think, he was two lengths ahead of her.

  “Ride, woman, ride!” His words floated back to her, their urgency unmistakable.

  Her horse pawed the ground and jerked at his reins, not the least bit pleased with her delay. She urged him forward, leaning low over his neck as he raced to catch up with Colin. The trees slipped past much faster than she found comfortable, but the scent of the fire was stronger now than ever and she gave her mount his head, allowing him to go as fast as he wanted.

  Colin led them on until they reached the water’s edge, a river too wide and too deep to be crossed. They followed the river downstream, maintaining the fastest pace the land would allow.

  Abby fought down the panic building in the back of her throat. The smell of burning wood surrounded them, stinging her eyes and nose even as a dull roar behind them increased in volume. A glance over her shoulder showed billows of smoke rising into the air.

  She took it all back. There was nothing she wanted to see more than rain. Nothing except maybe the river crossing Colin had promised.

  Colin’s not too much farther seemed to take forever to reach but there ahead of them, at last, was the place he’d sought.

  “We can cross here. Stay with me and allow yer horse to find his way. He’ll follow me. You hold on tight and you’ll be fine, aye?”

  She nodded, at a loss for words as she looked out across the swirling waters.

  The river separated into narrow fingers around small islands of land angled through the whole of it. The islands broke the flow of the water, slowing it a bit.

  Abby could only trust that Colin knew what he was doing, because none of her past experience riding through meadows or on back trails in Colorado had done anything to prepare her for something like this.

  Her horse wasted no time in wading in, matching his pace to that of Colin’s mount. Near the middle of the largest open stretch, the water rose well above her knees, almost to her mount’s shoulders, and she allowed her mind to flirt uncomfortably with the idea that the large animal might actually be swimming rather than touching the bottom.

  As long as he seemed calm, she reassured herself, things must be going well enough. Now if she could only convince herself that there was no need to panic.

  Ahead of her, Colin slowed his horse, waiting for her to come abreast of him. “Yer doing fine, Abby. We’re almost across. Yer mount is a good one. Trust him.”

  She tried to smile at him, to show him she was handling this all like an experienced outdoorswoman, but for some reason her lips simply refused to cooperate, and she knew without a doubt that if she opened her mouth to speak, she was ju
st as likely as not to end up a whimpering mess.

  He reached over and plucked up the slack in her reins, maintaining a hold on it until they reached the far bank.

  Somehow, that small move reassured her more than anything up to that point had. She found herself relaxing her own death grip on the reins just a bit, as if sharing that strip of leather with him allowed some of his confidence to leach into her.

  When they at last reached the other side, she wanted nothing more than to slide off her horse and kiss the solid ground, but considering she strongly suspected her legs would give way and humiliate her, she stayed in the saddle.

  “Look there.”

  She turned her head to follow the direction Colin pointed in, and her heart pounded in her chest as she realized those were flames licking against the trees they’d ridden through not ten minutes ago.

  “I think that’s just about the scariest thing I’ve ever seen in my whole life.”

  Colin nodded, his attention already fixed on scanning the area behind them. “We canna afford to delay here.”

  Now that the immediate danger seemed past, Abby began to notice the little discomforts left behind. For one thing, her shift and overdress were soaked up to her thighs and felt as though they carried an extra fifty pounds of water. She very much doubted anything in the cloth bag tied to her horse’s back had fared the river crossing in much better shape.

  While Colin seemed to work through some internal debate about the direction they would travel from here, she got down to practical matters. Grabbing up the hem of her skirt, she began to wring water out of it, section by section.

  “Look at you.” Colin had returned to her side, a reluctant grin breaking over his face. He caught up one of her freshly wrung out sections and touched it to her face. “Now we’ve a great problem. It seems I’ve uncovered a clean spot.”

  “What are you talking about?” She glanced to his face as he dragged a finger across his forehead leaving a lighter trail in a smudge of dirt. “Soot?”

  If she looked anything like he did, which she was sure she must, simply wringing out her skirt wasn’t going to accomplish much in the way of making her look presentable.

  “There’s a small village, maybe an hour’s ride ahead. We should be able to make it there before dark settles. I know a man who lives nearby and like as no, he’ll give us shelter for the night. You’ll be able to freshen yerself there.”

  He ducked his head, not waiting for her answer, and started off down the trail again.

  So he knew a man in a village, did he? A place he could stay that didn’t involve a long cold night on the hard ground. Interesting he hadn’t mentioned that before. In fact, he’d been pretty specific about the whole journey’s lacking in accommodations. If she were the suspicious type, she might be tempted to suspect he had wanted her to believe every night would be like their last one just so she would stay behind with his family rather than tagging along with him.

  If she were the suspicious type.

  “Which I definitely am,” she muttered defiantly, kneeing her horse to keep pace with Colin.

  Twenty-nine

  Flynn bent low over his horse’s neck, kicking the animal’s sides, demanding more speed. Not that the terrified animal wasn’t already giving all she had.

  Behind him, the screams ceased abruptly, leaving only the roar of the encroaching flames. Like the beating of hooves, the sound reverberated against his eardrums, as if Hades’ own chariot chased him.

  Once he made it out of this mess, he’d need to find himself some new weak-minded mortal to enthrall. He’d warned the fool to ride faster. Pity he’d lost their supplies as well.

  The fire raged around him, leaping from tree to tree, consuming everything in its path. The dry timbers exploded with the fury of the inferno, showering burning shrapnel down on him that stung his face and hands.

  His frenzied mount burst free from the tree line at last and plunged into the river without breaking stride. Possessed of the same madness as the horse, the same fear-crazed need to survive, Flynn made no attempt to slow the animal until they approached the opposite bank.

  Only then did he regain himself, sparing but a single thought to how much he hated the mortality bestowed on him in taking blood. The pure, pitiful weakness that was Mortal.

  Still, without Abby’s magic flowing in his veins, he would never have been able to find the crossing in time.

  He dismounted, stooping to the ground to scan the tracks around him.

  It was the odd huffing noise that caused him to turn in time to witness his horse’s legs buckling. Her great weight dropped to the ground with a thud, signaling yet another impediment to his quest.

  Her entire hindquarter had been charred black, her big brown eyes wild with fear and pain. The Glock tucked into his waistband crossed his thoughts. It shouldn’t take more than one bullet to put her out of her misery.

  But that one bullet could well be one he’d need in order to get his hands on Abigail and make his way out of this time.

  It appeared he’d be walking for a little while.

  No matter. They weren’t so very far ahead of him. Their trail was easy enough to follow. He’d find another horse.

  And then he’d track them. Following along, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

  It was only a matter of time until he’d have Abigail and return to his own time, where he belonged.

  Thirty

  I’ll give you time to have a proper soak before I return, so dinna dawdle and expect me to linger about the hallway waiting for you to finish.”

  With those words of warning, Colin stepped through the doorway and closed it firmly behind him, leaving Abby to wonder how long a “proper soak” lasted in Colin’s mind.

  The friend he’d spoken of had turned out to be the laird of a clan friendly to his own. Instead of a small hut as she’d imagined, they were spending the night in a castle at least as large as Dun Ard, though it appeared to have seen better days. The laird himself, a man named Roderick, had seemed pleased to see Colin and even more pleased to see him accompanied by a wife.

  Soon after their arrival they’d been shuffled into this large bedchamber, and a parade of boys and young girls had traipsed back and forth, filling the large wooden tub that now sat steaming in front of the fireplace.

  Abby could hardly wait to climb inside and sink down under the hot water.

  She untied the knife from her waist and dropped it to the floor, followed by the smaller knife she’d hidden in her bodice. Then she pulled off her sleeve covers and her overdress, tossing them both in a pile on the floor. Cold bumps covered her body as the breeze slipped in around the two high, shuttered windows, and her tired muscles shivered. If she could muster the energy, she might try to wash her clothing out in the tub after she finished her bath. Her shift followed next, along with the long pants Ellie had given her.

  The cold air made her anticipation of the hot water all that much sweeter. She stepped into the tub, planning a slow, decadent inch-by-inch descent into the steaming water.

  Until the door opened.

  She dropped to her knees like a rock, sending water splashing over both sides of the big wooden tub.

  It was Colin who leaned in the door. He tossed something in her direction, and as a reflex she managed to block it, knocking it into the water with a splash.

  “I almost forgot that. Lady Rosalyn sent it along for you once she heard you liked it. It’s balm she uses, by the way.”

  “Balm?” What on earth was he going on about this time?

  “Balm,” he confirmed confidently. “And mint.”

  As quickly as he’d shown up, he was gone again.

  Abby felt around in the tub, at last locating the object that had joined her in her bath. Rosalyn’s handmade soap.

  A little thrill tingled through her heart, bringing with it a smile to Abby’s lips.

  Lemon balm and mint, though in this day and age, it was called only balm. Those were the herb
s Colin’s mother combined to get that lovely smell.

  He’d remembered how much she’d liked it and that she’d wondered what herbs his mother used. He’d remembered that little detail about her, and then he’d bothered to ask his mother what she put in her soap to make it smell the way it did. That he’d cared enough to take the extra time to ask made her happy. That he’d taken the time the morning of their departure to do so—even in the midst of his ranting to every living soul at Dun Ard in an attempt to find someone to support his position that she should remain there when he left—made it even more special.

  The smile his action had put on her face wasn’t going anywhere for quite some time.

  Abby ducked her head back in the water, making sudsy the ends of her hair with the lovely little soap, hoping to banish the smell of charcoaled forest.

  The hot water lapping around her sore muscles felt almost good enough to make her forget that she’d always favored showers over soaking in her own filth.

  “When in Rome,” she murmured in an attempt to silence her annoyingly active inner critic.

  All things considered, what she experienced at this moment was like living in the lap of luxury. If your lap happened to be located in the Highlands of Scotland, circa 1306, that is.

  The water had begun to cool to an uncomfortable level by the time she finally managed to drag herself out of the tub, and she shook out the bundle of drying cloth the maids had left for her use.

  No wonder terry cloth towels had caught on so well. Would catch on, she amended. These things were like trying to dry yourself off with big linen sheets.

  A quick look around reminded her that the big linen sheet she was disparaging was all she had to wear for the moment, since the clothing she’d taken off was soot-covered and soggy and Colin had sent all their other things off with one of the maids to be dried in the kitchens.