She snorted. “Cars are easy. Just point and go. Faster than horses, though,” she added, giving the chestnut mare an apologetic pat on the shoulder.
Within minutes, Maggie bustled out to meet them, her bright brown eyes glinting with pleasure to see them both. She ushered them inside for morning tea, interested to hear about how Nancy was settling in up at the castle — and if they’d heard much from the Fae since they’d arrived, or come any closer to figuring out what purpose Nancy had been brought to Scotland to serve.
“No idea, I’m afraid,” Nancy said, cupping her hands around the warm, aromatic beverage that Maggie had served them… some kind of herbal tea, she surmised. She’d seen an extensive herb garden stretching out behind Maggie’s cottage, and assumed that she grew all manner of vegetables as well as herbs out there. It seemed the little old woman was more or less self-sufficient out here. “But I’m keeping busy.”
“Good girl,” Maggie said approvingly.
“I learned how to tack up a horse this morning,” she said, giving Malcolm a sidelong glance. “We’re riding into town to check on the dogs.”
“There was a bit of trouble in the village,” Malcolm explained at Maggie’s blank look. “Food thefts, disruptions in a couple of larders… probably vermin, we decided. You haven’t noticed anything here?”
“Rats know better than to interfere with my supplies,” Maggie said with a glint in her eye that was a little bit frightening. “But no. No interferences. So you’re riding into the village, then back to the castle by nightfall? Good.”
“Why’s that?” Malcolm asked, raising an eyebrow.
Maggie looked evasive. “Not sure yet. But it may be best not to travel at night for a little while, if it can be avoided.”
“Why?” Nancy leaned forward, interested to know why Maggie was avoiding both of their eyes.
The old woman peered up at her for a long moment, then heaved a sigh. “I suppose it can’t hurt to tell you. Chosen by the Sidhe and all. And Nessie seemed to like you, so… Something’s happened.” She gestured toward the Loch. “Something wrong with the burgh, or so Nessie thinks. She’s not the clearest communicator.”
“Something’s come through?” Malcolm asked urgently, his posture suddenly stiff. “Unseelie?”
“Hard to say. Nessie seems more concerned with the burgh itself, which is unusual for her. Usually she’s just excited about whatever’s come through when she reports things to me, but this time she was so distracted by what’s happening to the burgh that I couldn’t get a clear idea of what had come through. If anything,” she added, shrugging a little helplessly. “Wish I knew more, if I’m honest.”
The burgh itself — some kind of problem with the gateway between worlds? Nancy felt worry stir in her belly. If there was a problem with the gateway, that could have an impact on her plan to head back through and speak to the Sidhe about getting back home. But what could they do about it from up here?
“Spread the word about, if you can,” Maggie said. “No night travel for a while. Blame it on wild dogs or something if you have to. I can support that story among the villagers… no need panicking them about Unseelie creatures before we have a proper idea of what to expect.”
Nancy couldn’t help but feel a little worried as she sipped at the herbal concoction. To hear Maggie, who by all accounts was a local expert on the Fae, not sure what was going on — that was unsettling. Perhaps the Loch Ness Monster could provide more information, Nancy thought to herself. Perhaps she ought to go swimming with it, see if there was anything to be learned from it… that reminded her.
“Maggie, is it alright if I collect my scuba gear from you? I’ve a room in the castle to keep it in.”
“Aye, it’s safe and sound over there.” Maggie nodded toward an armchair, where her drysuit and other equipment were sitting, neatly folded.
“Thanks for taking care of it,” she said gratefully, giving the woman a warm smile. “It’s my last connection to home, so…”
“Home’s where you are,” Maggie said briskly. “But you’re welcome, dearie. And thank you both for the lovely visit, but I’ll have to boot you out. Kaitlyn’s on her way, and I want to know if she can identify all the herbs in this tea. No distractions.”
Chapter 22
Nancy gathered up her scuba gear and they headed back out of the little cottage and back to the horses, who were cropping the long grass by the road. It seemed to be particularly lush and inviting, the grass by Maggie’s house, Nancy noticed. She wondered what would explain that — she had a suspicion it might be paranormal. But before she could ask, there was a cheerful shout from down the road — Kaitlyn, a basket under her arm and her bright red hair in two long braids on either side of her pretty face.
“Oh, hullo, Nancy!” the girl said brightly as she reached them. “How are you settling in? Seen any more Fae since you arrived?”
“Not yet.” Nancy grinned. “You’d better hurry in to Maggie, though. Sounds like she has an exciting little test for you.”
“Again?” Kaitlyn sighed. “I better be the best witch Scotland’s ever seen after all this.”
“I bet you will,” Malcolm said, grinning down at her. “But careful with that word in the village, yes?”
“Of course, of course. I tell everyone Maggie’s teaching me to sew.” The girl bobbed a polite little curtsey then bolted up the stairs into the old woman’s cabin. Nancy and Malcolm watched her go, both smiling.
“She’s a firecracker,” Malcolm said, grinning. “Makes me feel old, the way she just… keeps moving like that.”
“Speaking of keeping moving… don’t we have a blacksmith to visit?”
“We do, let me just get this gear tied on.” Malcolm set about carefully attaching the scuba equipment to her horse and then covering it up so it couldn’t be seen.
“I’ll carry the drysuit,” Nancy said.
Nancy jumped aboard her horse with less difficulty than she’d had earlier, giving Malcolm a triumphant grin as she did. They set off down the road again, the sun now well and truly out and warming their bodies as they rode.
“It’ll be good to check in with the villagers, too,” Malcolm called to her. “Make sure the vermin problem is well under control. We might even be able to bring the dogs home, if they’re confident that the rats are dealt with.”
“Sure,” Nancy called back, fidgeting with her scuba gear. The solid things — the air tank and the regulator — that had been strapped to the back of the horse, bumped along with the movement of the horse.
Malcolm had been casting occasional glances at the drysuit in her arms, and she caught his eyes when he looked over yet again, raising an eyebrow in question.
“What?”
“I’ve just never seen a garment like that,” he explained. Was that a slight blush on his face? “It looks… very form-fitting.”
“It has to be,” Nancy explained, delighted for the opportunity to harp on her favorite subject for a little while. “Not quite as fitting as a wetsuit, of course, because you don’t wear anything under those, but a drysuit goes over your clothing. It seals here, at the neck and the wrists, to keep any water from getting inside the suit.”
“Fascinating,” Malcolm said, reining his horse a little closer to get a better look at it. “I suppose I’ll be seeing you in it sometime?”
“If you’re very nice to me,” Nancy said archly, and was rewarded with a self-conscious little chuckle and a visible blush rising in Malcolm’s cheeks.
He fixed his gaze on the road ahead and she grinned to herself, her heart beating pleasantly fast. She wasn’t usually any good at flirting at all. What was it about this calm, stoic Scotsman that was bringing out her coquettish side? Maybe it was the sense that she wasn’t here to stay… it felt like there were no consequences here. If she flirted and embarrassed herself, so what? It was that freedom that was emboldening her to be a little more forward than she would have been back in North Carolina, on all those terrible dates she’d been
on recently… God, if only she’d known the solution was as simple as not caring about the outcome of the flirtation, she’d have been doing a lot better in her dating life, that was for sure.
Then again, none of the men she’d gone on dates with could hold a candle to Malcolm Grant. If she was going to flirt with someone, she definitely wanted it to be him.
They rode into the village sometime later, and Nancy’s heart sank as she saw a handful of villagers standing outside the church gate at the top of the road. Even from here, she could see from their tense body language that something was wrong. Sure enough, Father Caleb was standing at the gate, the dog they’d left with him standing attentively at his side. Malcolm shot a glance sideways at Nancy, and she nodded — they both urged their horses into a trot and rode up to the little gathering to see what was going on.
“It’s a quarter of my larder that’s gone,” a woman was saying in plaintive tones. “I’ve been saving all that for winter. Father, please, just let me borrow him for tonight—”
“A quarter? Count yourself lucky. The bastards took half my supply of oats,” a bearded man cut her off, anger in his tone. “I need the dog tonight. I can’t keep waiting up all night to catch the thieves —”
“Oh!” Father Caleb squeaked, his brown eyes taking in Malcolm and Nancy as they rode up. He looked deeply relieved to see them. “Malcolm, and Miss Nancy —”
“What’s going on?” Malcolm asked, raising his voice over the rabble of villagers. There were only half a dozen of them, but they managed to be very loud.
“It seems the problem with the thefts hasn’t quite abated,” Father Caleb admitted with a sad little shrug. “These fine people have found their larders attacked.”
“It’s only those in the village without a dog or cat,” the woman who’d been speaking when they’d arrived informed Malcolm, squaring up to the man with an officious kind of air. To Nancy, she seemed like the kind of woman who would have written a lot of letters to the local newspapers in her own time. “We’re the ones being targeted. So I think Father Caleb ought to lend out this dog to me —”
“But where does that leave the rest of us?” demanded the bearded man irritably.
Malcolm raised his hands for silence. “We’ve more dogs at the Sept. If that’s what’s needed to keep your larders safe, then we can arrange for that. How many houses are unguarded?”
“At least twenty,” Father Caleb said, scanning the village anxiously. “Perhaps more, if you include the farms that lie further out of town…”
“How many dogs do you have?” the woman asked Malcolm officiously. “Will there be enough to keep everybody’s food safe?”
“I’ll bring what we can and speak to Laird Donal about what else we can do,” Malcolm said. “We’ll do what we can here, you have my word.”
“Thank you, Malcolm,” Father Caleb said, clearly trying to amplify his voice to cut through the discontented grumbling of the villagers. “Any help you can offer will be most appreciated… in the meantime, perhaps we can all work out some sort of roster to distribute the dogs between houses…”
“That’s the best idea you’ve had all morning,” the bearded man said. The gaggle of villagers set off toward the Church with a purposeful air, Father Caleb trailing behind them and the dog bringing up the rear, panting happily in the mid-morning sun. Malcolm glanced over at Nancy, clearly worried.
“It seems the vermin’s a lot more serious than we thought,” he said softly.
“Is it vermin?” Nancy kept her voice low. “Or could it be… something else? Something from the burgh, something like what Maggie was talking about?”
“I hope not,” Malcolm said firmly. “At any rate — I still need to see the blacksmith, then we’ll ride back to collect some more dogs. The kennel master’s going to be furious, but it’s better than seeing everyone in the village starve, I suppose.”
They rode down a side street, where the sound of clanking metal soon led them to the blacksmith. He was a huge man, wearing not much more than an apron, his body drenched in sweat and soot from the work he’d been doing. There was a half-formed sword on the great forge before him, but he put his tools down when he saw Malcolm coming, turning to rummage through the drawers in a small table behind him.
“Don’t even start, you old bastard,” he called as they came within earshot of him, his voice rough and smoky. “I’ve got what I owe —”
“Well, that’s good, you old miser. Would’ve been better a month ago, but better late than never —”
Nancy would never understand the way men spoke to each other, she reflected with a roll of her eyes as Malcolm jumped off the horse to embrace the blacksmith. From the way he’d been speaking about the man, she’d assumed they were dire enemies… but from the way they were interacting, it was clear that they were as thick as thieves.
“John, this is Nancy,” Malcolm said, gesturing up to Nancy, who slid down from her horse to greet the blacksmith. “Nancy, John’s the best blacksmith for miles.”
“I’m the only blacksmith for miles, you bastard. Nancy, good to meet you.” The man grinned at her, making a little bow to her that was as charming as it was clumsy. She could see why Malcolm liked this man. “Have you both been hearing about these food thefts? Terrible.”
“Aye, we have. We’ll be back later, bringing a few more dogs down. Do you have one?”
“No, no room around here for a dog. But my larder’s been untouched.” John shrugged. “Just lucky, I suppose.”
“You live here, at the forge?” Nancy peered through the smoky forge — sure enough, there was the door to a little house behind the covered outdoor area that seemed to be John’s combination workspace and storefront.
“Aye, keeps me nice and close to work,” John said, grinning. “Can’t get the stink of iron out of the place, of course, but there are worse things.”
“We’d best go, John. You sure you don’t need a dog to keep your food safe? Can’t have a town losing its blacksmith to starvation.”
“I’ll let you know if I notice any shortages, but I’m right as an adamant for now, Mal. Thanks, though. You sort out the rest of the town first.”
They said their goodbyes and John waved them off as they rode back through town, headed for the castle. Malcolm looked thoughtful — Nancy shot him a look, torn between interrupting his thoughts, and wanting to know what he was thinking about.
“It’s a bit of a worry, that John’s been safe as houses,” Malcolm told her as they rode out of town, still keeping his voice low. It was clear he didn’t want to worry the villagers. And fair enough, too. Panicking about food would only add more stress to the situation. “The only difference between his house and everyone else’s is the iron.”
“So?”
“Iron’s like poison to the Fae,” Malcolm explained, his brow furrowed. “Cold iron hurts them terribly. They avoid it like the plague. So if his home’s safe from the attackers…”
Nancy’s eyes widened. “Then the attackers could be Unseelie Fae.”
“Exactly.”
They rode in silence, their mutual concern speaking volumes.
Chapter 23
It seemed a shorter ride back. Perhaps it was that Malcolm was urging the horses along a little faster — he kept squeezing his gelding’s sides, urging it forward into a longer walk, and Nancy’s chestnut mare was happy enough to fall into step beside it. They passed Maggie’s cottage, and though Nancy couldn’t see either of them through the window, a pair of small boots on the porch revealed that Kaitlyn must still be studying her herbs. She hoped she had passed the test of identifying the herbs in the herbal tea Maggie had made — Nancy knew that she couldn’t have named even one, let alone a dozen. It occurred to her that it might be worth stopping to tell Maggie about what they’d learned in the village… but there would be time for that later. For now, they needed to get back to the castle, tell Laird Donal about the attacks, and take as many dogs as they could back to the village. All before dark,
if what Maggie had said about not travelling by night was a rule they were going to stick to… and by the sounds of it, they had good reason to do so.
The guards raised the gate as they rode back across the little land bridge that connected the castle to the mainland, and Nancy spent a few minutes untacking her horse. It was much easier to take a bridle off than it was to put one on, and the mare seemed happy to have her mouth free again. Nancy slipped a hand into her pocket and brought out half an oat cake that she’d been saving — the horse lipped it from her hands gently, and whuffled happily as she crunched it up.
“Are you fattening that horse up for the winter?” Malcolm asked from behind her, amusement in his voice.
She jumped, guiltily — she hadn’t realized he’d seen her sneaking the treat to the horse.
“I just want her to like me,” she said, gesturing to the mare as she finished her treat. “It’s the least I can do after she carried me all the way into town…”
Malcolm laughed. “It’s fine. But if we wind up with serious food shortages, you might have to curtail that particular habit.”
She shivered as she followed him toward the castle. She hadn’t thought of that — food always seemed so plentiful in the castle, but of course, if there were food shortages in the village it was going to affect them, too. Well, so long as she could keep having a bowl of porridge in the morning, she’d be just fine. She glanced up at Malcolm — he could clearly tell what she was thinking about.
“The castle has plentiful stores of long-lasting food in the larders,” he explained, reassuring her. “Enough to keep the village going for a little while, too, if it comes to that. But it’d be better if we can avert that kind of emergency, at least for the time being.” He smiled, let’s get your gear and go find Donal.”
Donal, thankfully, wasn’t hard to find — he was sitting in the dining hall, frowning down at a ledger, and Malcolm and Nancy were able to distract him fairly easily. But the frown on his face didn’t ease as they explained what they’d learned in the village, seating themselves at the table opposite the Laird.
Stranded By The Highlander: A Scottish Time Travel Romance-Highlander Forever Book 2 Page 14
