Stranded By The Highlander: A Scottish Time Travel Romance-Highlander Forever Book 2

by Preston, Rebecca

  But she knew, deep down, that it had never been a question… even if it hadn’t meant leaving Malcolm to his death, she knew she could never have left this place. This was her home now. These were her friends… this was where she had always been meant to end up. And yes, it was a wrench to think she’d never see her friends from Raleigh again… especially her father… but in the end, it wasn’t even a choice. This was her home.

  And I am going to defend it, she thought grimly, staring up at the door.

  Darter was pointing frantically at it, trying to get her attention with his good arm. He was clearly wary of the door, unwilling to get too close to it — and so was the Loch Ness Monster, she realized, watching as the creature circled warily, keeping her distance. And no wonder, she realized, staring at the door. There, down the bottom, she could see that something was jammed into the door… something that was stopping the great stone edge of the door from lining up with its great stone frame. Keeping it ajar, ever so slightly — but ajar enough, she could see, for the body of a goblin to fit through. No wonder there were so many, she realized, staring at it. The door was stuck open. And there, down at the bottom, she could see what was doing it. Just a simple piece of iron.

  Well, she could handle that, couldn’t she? Thinking of the moment she’d freed Darter’s leg from the arrow, she swam forward, tugging Malcolm along with her. She’d simply grab the iron and wrench it free. Easy.

  Then she came face to face with Grimtooth.

  She recoiled, shocked by the goblin’s presence — how had he even gotten down here? The Redcap’s jaw was clenched, tiny bubbles of air coming out of his nose… but sure enough, here he was, treading water, pure rage and hatred on his ugly face. She lifted her sword, but it was slow in the water, and despite lacking the webbed hands and feet of the Glashtyns, Grimtooth was quite nimble in the water. He swam at her, his clawed hands outstretched, ready to harm her — and then Malcolm was there, his own jaw clenched with the effort of holding his breath, his iron sword at the ready. The two began to struggle against each other in the water, fighting hard, grappling and struggling as Malcolm tried to avoid Grimtooth’s teeth and claws, and Grimtooth tried to avoid the wicked sharp edge of Malcolm’s sword. If it had been a battle on land, it would have been a different story… but in the water, the two were evenly matched. And it was frightening — Nancy realized that, locked in the battle with Grimtooth, Malcolm couldn’t take a pause to grab a breath of air from her mask.

  Darter yanked at her sleeve, clearly aware that time was a factor as well. He pointed frantically at the iron bar, then jerked his head toward Grimtooth, looking resolute. She realized what he was saying — her job was the iron, and he’d help Malcolm fight the Redcap.

  She nodded, watching the brave little goblin dart in to attack Grimtooth — the Redcap howled angrily, a huge bubble of air escaping his mouth as he realized who was attacking him. Even with one weakened arm, Darter did a good job of putting pressure on the Redcap. Nancy turned back to the stone door. It was time to do what she’d come to do.

  Getting her fingers around the iron was easy enough, but it was wedged firmly between the door and its frame. She maneuvered her feet around until she could brace her heels on the stone door, yanking as hard as she could on the iron… and finally, to her relief, she felt the iron bar beginning to budge and give way. As it finally slid free, she resisted the urge to whoop in triumph, holding the bar aloft excitedly. Malcolm saw it and gave her a thumbs-up — she could see Grimtooth howling with rage. Malcolm pressed the advantage, and she grinned widely as he finally found the opening he was looking for, and drove his iron blade straight through the goblin’s belly.

  But something was wrong. The stone door was still open — and as she watched, a couple of goblins emerged from around its edge, swimming hard toward Malcolm. They were still coming through, she realized — the door wasn’t wedged open anymore, but they still needed to close it to stop goblins coming through. She shoved on it uselessly, powering as hard as she could with her fins to try to slide the door shut… but to no avail. Malcolm was fighting the new goblins, and she gritted her teeth to see the fresh wounds on his body. He needed air badly, she could tell by the way his chest was heaving and twitching with the effort of stopping himself from inhaling.

  She stared at the door, realizing that she only had one thing left at her disposal… her scuba gear. The tanks themselves… pressurized, a great deal of power locked away inside their steel interiors. Would it work? Could it work? Moving quickly, she selected the tank with the least air remaining in it — she took a deep breath from it, then swam to Malcolm, who had successfully killed both of the new goblins. She urged him to breathe from the tank, too, bringing it down to about five percent of its capacity. That would have to be enough. She needed the other tank to get them both to the surface… even that would be cutting it fine. She could feel herself getting dizzy with oxygen deprivation, knew that she was rationing herself too sharply. But she’d hold on for a little while longer. She’d have to, if they were all going to survive this. And she was determined that they would.

  She attached her mask to the other tank, now, carefully — then took the nearly-empty tank over to the door. It was composed of several stone slabs, overgrown with moss and reeds, and there was a likely-looking divot where she wedged the air tank, fixing it in place with a few tendrils of plants. Malcolm swam up beside her, clearly confused by what she was doing — she grabbed his hand and squeezed it, hoping he would know that that gesture meant ‘get ready’.

  Then, with as much force as she could muster, she drove the tip of her sword into the very tip of the cylinder of compressed air — the section she knew was structurally the weakest.

  The cylinder exploded with a dull sound that seemed to hit Nancy in the eardrums like a physical impact. She prayed there would be enough air left in it that the pressure of the explosion would drive the door shut — and as she watched, it seemed that her prayers had been answered. The great stone door, ponderously slowly, shifted in place, slamming shut with another dull thud that seemed to resonate in her very bones. She whooped in triumph, a bubble of air escaping her lips — then quickly covered her face with the mask, taking a breath of air from her remaining tank. Darter was flicking back and forth in a clearly excited motion, but he looked anxious, and was pointing up — Nancy nodded. It was time to go. She looked at the gauge, her heart sinking — barely two minutes of air left, if that. For both of them to get to the surface? Was it possible? She forced the mask onto Malcolm’s face, let him take a deep breath in… then began to swim up. Malcolm tugged at her, trying to get her to swim faster, and she shook her head desperately. If they surfaced too quickly, they’d both die — decompression sickness would be fatal without a decompression chamber to recover in. But how could she explain the physics of surfacing to him without language? She locked eyes with him, willing her to trust him… even though it seemed ridiculous, completely counter-intuitive. And with a movement that nearly broke her heart with affection for him, he simply nodded, and kept to her pace.

  They swam slowly. She barely breathed from the mask, trying to keep as much oxygen for him as she could… but she could feel stars swimming in her vision, and knew that she had to keep herself conscious until they got to the surface. The Monster was swimming besides them, making deep worried sounds as it swam — she was grateful for its presence, because it seemed to be scaring off what remained of the other goblins, all of whom seemed a little less bloodthirsty and sure of themselves now that they’d seen their leader defeated at the hands of the man at her side.

  They kept climbing, slowly but surely. The tank was nearly empty — she took a little half-breath, feeling her lungs clawing desperately for more, then gave the rest to Malcolm. That’s it, she thought emptily — the last of their air. Now the only thing that remained to be seen was whether they’d make it to the surface. Was it getting lighter, or was her vision beginning to gray out? No, she realized muzzily, hardly conscious
as her legs kept kicking, her whole body burning and screaming for air… it was getting lighter. That was sunlight. They were nearly there… nearly there… lactic acid filling her muscles, the product of anaerobic respiration, Malcolm’s blood in the water giving her more cause to worry…

  And then her head broke the surface. For a moment, she almost forgot to breathe, so shocked by the feeling of air on her skin… and then she took a deep, shuddering breath of air, and another, and another, gasping for breath as she treaded water and the stars slowly left her vision. Malcolm was beside her, also gasping for breath, and she stared at him, searching for any sign that he was feeling unwell from their surfacing. But no — she’d timed it well. No decompression sickness for either of them… and no drowning at the bottom of the Loch, either.

  Malcolm stared back at her, eyes wild. She grinned, her arms already wrapped around his neck, and pressed a kiss to his lips, not caring about the cold lake water.

  “You trusted me,” she gasped. “You trusted me — trusted me to bring us up slowly —”

  “Of course I trusted you,” he said simply, his voice hoarse from their ordeal underwater, but his eyes shining with warmth and care for her as he pushed a lock of wet hair away from her face. “You’re the best scuba diver in the world, after all.”

  She laughed giddily and hurled her arms around him, hearing a raucous cheer go up from the banks of the Loch — but for the moment, she only had eyes for Malcolm.

  Chapter 59

  They swam slowly to shore, still breathing heavily as their bodies re-oxygenated after their ordeal underwater. Nancy was still dizzy, and sure she’d be dizzy for a while — the exertion had been intense. She looked down regretfully at her one remaining air cylinder. That was that, then. No more diving. But what a last dive it was, she thought with a grin… near-death escapades, sword fighting, and even an explosion at the end there. A part of her had wanted to see a scuba tank explode ever since the moment in Jaws when the shark got blown up by a scuba tank… and she’d finally gotten her wish, albeit in a less cinematically convenient way, and with a bit less fire. That had been inaccurate, anyway, she remembered one of her friends complaining about the fire element of the scene. She wondered how he’d have felt about the idea of shutting a gateway to another world with an exploding scuba tank? So long as there wasn’t fire, she thought with a grin, he’d probably have been fine with it. Accuracy was everything, after all.

  They staggered out of the water, leaning on one another for support. Malcolm was bleeding a lot more than she’d thought — though water always made wounds look worse, she could tell that he’d need a fair bit of attention. There was his armor, in a pile on the beach, and there were the men, all standing around amidst a sea of goblin bodies. It seemed the waves that had come out of the woods had been thinned out quite successfully. Anna was there, too, blood dripping from her own sword, a savage look on her face that made Nancy incredibly glad that she was on her side.

  “Did you do it?” Anna asked immediately, moving forward to Nancy’s side to support them both. “Is the gate shut?”

  Nancy nodded, still breathing heavily. The adrenaline and exertion were starting to catch up with her — she could feel her whole body trembling, and she dropped to her knees in the sand, just needing a moment to sit and catch her breath. Anna knelt beside her, looking anxious but in control of the situation.

  “Stay with me. You’re good. Just worn out. This’ll pass. Okay? Talk,” she said firmly. “Talking will help.”

  “I’m good, I’m good,” she managed, breathing hard.

  Donal was at Malcolm’s side, clapping the man on the back, making fun of him for having ripped his armor off before his swim — a somewhat different approach to Anna’s, she thought with some amusement. “We did it. We dove — we took out the goblins — closed the door. Got the iron out.” She realized she was still clutching the bar in her hand and gestured with it. Anna grinned at her.

  “You’re amazing.”

  “Anna — when you said I couldn’t… couldn’t go back… I could’ve.” For some reason, this felt important. She looked at Anna, beseeching. “The door was right there. I could’ve just… gone right through.”

  Anna sighed. “You could have gone back, Nancy, it’s true. But if you had… the Sidhe would’ve put you right back where you were. You’d have drowned in that cave. And we’d all have been without you.”

  Nancy took a deep breath. That made sense — but hearing it out loud made her feel better, somehow. More resolved. She’d done everything she could.

  “The Redcap went in after you,” Donal was saying to Malcolm, voice low and earnest. “I tried to catch him, but he was set on following you both. Did you see him?”

  “Aye, I saw him,” Malcolm said smugly. “Saw him and killed him. Underwater. Holding my breath and all.”

  The men made appreciative noises. Nancy and Anna grinned at each other, amused by the men and their stories — this was clearly an adventure that was going to be discussed for a long time. Nancy felt giddy with happiness. She’d done it — she’d sealed the door. The goblins were dealt with. They were safe again — them, and the villagers, and the whole of Scotland had no more goblins to deal with. And it was all thanks to her, and Malcolm, and the Monster, and —

  “But I had help,” Malcolm said suddenly.

  Nancy turned around, hearing sounds from the water — and realized to her surprise that Darter was in the water, just his head peeking above the surface. He must have followed them up — but he’d held back, not wanting to intrude on their celebrations. Why was that?

  “This brave little fellow, Darter. He helped me kill Grimtooth, and nearly lost his own life doing it. He’s a brave creature and no mistake.”

  “Come forward, Darter,” Donal commanded, straightening up. The goblin hesitated — and Donal made an apologetic sound before tossing his iron sword away down the beach. With an appreciative little nod, Darter emerged from the water, still looking unsure of himself.

  “You saved the life of my tanist and did us a great service today, Darter,” Donal said formally, and she saw the little goblin straighten up with pride. “I formally pardon you for any and all crimes you performed under the leadership of Grimtooth and welcome you to stay here with us for as long as you should desire.”

  “Thank you, Laird Donal,” the goblin squeaked, bowing deeply. “You are most gracious. I’ll abide by the law of the land and the Laird.”

  “What’s all this tomfoolery, then?”

  The voice split through the gathering like a bell. There stood Old Maggie, cardigan around her shoulders and a toothy grin splitting across her wizened old face. She was scrutinizing the little gathering thoughtfully, standing in the middle of the road that separated the beach from her cottage.

  “Maggie,” Nancy gasped, getting to her feet and rushing forward. “We did it! We went down and got the iron out of the gate, then we closed the door — we defeated the goblins — everyone’s safe now!”

  “Aye, I know,” Maggie said bluntly, her eyes twinkling. “Who d’you think was there guiding Nessie’s jaws?”

  Nancy’s eyes widened, remembering the way the monster had circled protectively around them, snapping at the goblins and keeping the worst of the horde at bay. “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, let an old witch keep her secrets,” Maggie said dismissively. “Now — the lot of you look like you’re about to catch your deaths of cold. What do you say to some lunch? It seems we’ve something to celebrate.”

  Nancy glanced up at Malcolm and Donal as Maggie headed back toward her hut, gesturing over her shoulder for the group to follow her. It seemed like rather a big ask, to fit the dozen soldiers, plus Donal, Malcolm, Anna, Darter and Nancy, in for lunch. But then Nancy remembered the way the place had seemed to shift and change size and shape to accommodate the horses… and she grinned, giving the nonplussed Malcolm a wink.

  “Wouldn’t it be rude to turn down hospitality?”

  And s
ure enough, as she stepped through the door, her eyes widened. There all the men were, seated at a great long table that looked like a larger version of the one that had always sat in Maggie’s living room… it was as though the entire space itself had stretched and shifted, somehow taking on larger dimensions than could have been possible from the room outside. And to Nancy’s delight, the table was already groaning with food — roast meat and vegetables, huge, steaming bowls of hearty stew, freshly baked bread rolls and little pots of glistening butter. She felt her stomach roar into life, clearly ravenous after her ordeal. Maggie gestured her over to the fire, where a warm change of clothes awaited both her and Malcolm — somehow, a change of clothes that fit each of them perfectly.

  “Did you know we were coming?” Nancy couldn’t help but ask, staring at Maggie. She’d known the old woman had some power, but this was unprecedented.

  But Maggie just grinned toothily at her with a cheeky little shrug, and she realized she wasn’t going to get a straight answer about any of this.

  They ate and celebrated for what felt like hours, filling their bellies with the fresh relief of knowing that the threat that had been hanging over their heads for so long was finally banished and dealt with. With her stomach full of delicious food, Nancy could feel herself starting to recover from the ordeal… Malcolm, too, was looking a lot healthier, the food clearly helping him to begin to recover from the blood he’d lost from the wounds inflicted by the goblins. Maggie had daubed some kind of herbal paste onto the worst of his wounds and warned him — and Nancy — that he’d need to do plenty of resting if he wanted the injuries to heal.