My Lady Highlande

by Nancy Lee Badger

  Everyone needs space, but the Scottish Highlands are dangerous.

  Isn’t that why he had made the decision to return to the future?

  “Where is Izzy?” Jenny asked.

  “Ah, she got mad and walked off. I’ll find her.” He smiled at Jenny, but the woman was too intuitive. Her eyes bored into him, as if she knew something was wrong.

  “If Gavin was also missing, I’d really worry, but he said ‘I shall fetch ye a tankard of ale, lass.’ Don’t you just love how he talks?”

  “Jenny, fall in love at your own peril. This is not Lincoln. We are far from the New England you know. Besides that, Gavin Sinclair is after Izzy.”

  “But, you heard her. She doesn’t want him.”

  “And you do? Why?”

  “I don’t know if I want him for anything but laughs. There’s something sweet and sexy beneath all that black leather and a frown.”

  “Just take it slow. At least until we figure out what happened?”

  “I can guess. Someone sent us back in time.”

  “That doesn’t amaze you?”

  “I’ve an open mind. I watch Doctor Who.”

  Bull glanced at her face, but she wasn’t joking. “Until we figure out who sent us here, we are in deep trouble. We should stay together.”

  “Right. I’ll grab Gavin. He’s standing over there.” Jenny pointed to the wagon of supplies. Gavin was deep in conversation with his brother, Niall. When he turned and glared at them, Jenny sighed with contentment.

  Bull cringed, then headed in the direction that Izzy had walked. Had Niall told Gavin what he’d seen by the riverbank? How else would he explain a man holding a naked woman? He could tell from the man’s attitude, that Niall assumed he had taken Izzy’s innocence, but that was Izzy’s story to tell.

  Not his.

  Gavin must have made love to her five years ago, the same time she’d traveled to the future. The same time she started helping Dorcas Swann in her potions tent.

  He had returned from a short, yet deadly, trek back in time, to pursue his safe life as a professor in a private college. Besides living longer, he had thought about settling down. With a woman.

  Funny. Hadn’t I set my sights on Jenny Morgan?

  Dorcas mentioned she had left her tent in Izzy’s capable hands, many times. Izzy must have been very young. Gavin must have taken advantage of her. When Bull found her, he’d make her explain exactly how she and Gavin met, and what had transpired five years earlier. For some reason, Gavin acted like he had a legitimate claim.

  Can’t do a thing until I talk to Izzy.

  Where had she run to? The forest trail broadened as it entered the meadow, but the meadow was empty. Tall grass, and a few flowers, bent and straightened with each gust of wind. The scent of earth, grass, and sunshine made him miss Izzy’s flowery fragrance even more. He lifted his gaze toward the meadow’s far away forested border, and squinted.

  No Izzy, and no footprints in the soft grass. He was no tracker, but the area looked undisturbed. Much too quiet, as well. He concentrated on listening for her laughter, though he’d be happy with an angry outburst or two. “Nothing, except…”

  Dry leaves crackled behind him. He spun around, and the point of a large sword hovered inches from his heart.

  “I am getting pretty tired of swords,” Bull said, though his anxiety ratcheted up at the fierce expression marring Gavin’s face.

  “Where is she?”

  “Who?”

  “My beloved Isobel MacHamish, you ugly cur.”

  Behind Gavin, Jenny stopped in her tracks. Her eyes filled with tears. She had heard the exchange, and Gavin’s words hurt her.

  “You bastard. You follow a woman who wants nothing to do with you, while another waits in the wings, hoping for a kind word. I suggest you rethink your objective,” Bull whispered. He was rewarded with Gavin’s frown.

  Gavin blinked, lowered his weapon, and turned his head. When he saw Jenny walking away, his shoulders drooped, like a man defeated in battle. “I canna’…”

  Gavin Sinclair was an idiot. Jenny was smart, beautiful, and probably a whole lot of fun. Bull could tell she liked Gavin. Sure, she was from another world, but what did it matter when you found the right woman?

  Maybe I should practice what I preach.

  “Give me one good reason why you feel you have to continue bothering Izzy.”

  “Isobel is a wealthy woman. I am the youngest son.”

  “Youngest…what has that got to do with anything?”

  “I need land, a home, a purpose.”

  “Right. Izzy has a farm around here somewhere. She mentioned that was why you chased her to the future. Seems like a childish reason to marry someone.”

  As he backed away, Gavin chuckled, then sheathed his sword into the borrowed leather scabbard on his back. He still carried his dirk at his side. Bull rubbed the side of his neck where the pointed piece of steel had cut him.

  “Ye must understand the times.”

  “1603. Right. Even though I teach history at Falconscroft, I would rather learn from the source. Enlighten me.”

  “Aye. Ye earn yer keep teaching bairns.”

  Bull growled, then crossed his arms over his chest.

  “Pardon me. I meant children. Marriages here are more like business contracts.”

  “Even if you are not the man she wants warming her bed?”

  Gavin smiled. “Aye, but ‘tis a handful, with whom I am willing to spend eternity.”

  “You took her innocence, didn’t you?” Bull’s question remained unanswered. Gavin glanced back toward the camp.

  And Jenny?

  Returning his attention to the open meadow, Bull had to find Izzy. His gut told him she had found trouble. Or, trouble had found her. “If you have ever had real feelings for Izzy, help me find her.”

  “What? She is missing?”

  “You finally noticed? She walked away in a huff.”

  “A…what?”

  “She got angry.”

  He chuckled. “ ‘Tis her natural state, I fear. What can we do? Where do ye suggest we start?”

  “I have no idea.” A glint of sunlight on steel caught Bull’s gaze.

  “Did ye hear me?” Gavin strode to Bull’s side, and punched his shoulder.

  Bull ignored him, then pointed to a small knife lying beside the trail. “What’s that?”

  The tiny blade appeared similar to the sgian dubh a Scotsman tucked in his boot or hose. He’d seen dozens of them worn by ‘weekend Scots’ at the various Highland games and festivals he attended back home.

  Home has never felt so far away.

  CHAPTER 13

  Gavin’s fearful gasp drained all the blood in Bull’s body and send it to his toes. Gavin pushed passed him, and knelt. When he stood, the tiny weapon in his palm glittered under the warm sunshine and the warrior’s face paled.

  Bull immediately sensed that Gavin knew something, but the Highlander was silent. He hefted the small weapon, and turned it repeatedly. Bull’s gut twisted, and he feared he wasn’t going to like what the knife’s appearance, in an empty meadow, meant.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, “Are those jewels?”

  “Aye,” Gavin whispered, glancing toward the meadow, then back toward the glade.

  “Do you recognize its origin?”

  Gavin nodded, and his breath rattled, as he exhaled. “The last time I saw this, it nestled in a small leather sheath.”

  “Where?” Bull was now very sure he didn’t want to know.

  “In the bodice of my mother’s gown. She wore it, always.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “ ‘Tis no time for tales. The woman is actually my stepmother. My real mother died when she fell from a tower in my father’s castle. He said she killed herself, but I have never believed his words.” Gavin stared at nothing.

  Bull popped him on the shoulder. “Snap out of it! Why would her weapon be here?”

  “I am not…sure,�
� Gavin whispered,.

  “Could a kidnapper have dropped it?” Bull glanced around, then listened again. If he was back home, honking vehicles, low-flying aircraft, and arguing voices would strain his ears, but here in Scotland, all he heard was silence.

  “A what?” Gavin asked.

  Bull scratched his head. “You know…an abductor. Has someone seized her, taken her…”

  “Look. There be her shoes, and her hair tie! Dear Lord, they took her.” Gavin cried, then rushed back toward camp.

  Bull followed at his heels. “Talk to me. Is it a clue to who might have taken Izzy?”

  “Aye, but it only points to my father. I must talk to Niall.”

  “Could Niall have taken her?”

  “Nay, he has been with us, or his men at their camp.”

  Bull glared at Gavin’s back, as the warrior ran. Why would he think his father had kidnapped Izzy? Was his father after her property, as well? Wouldn’t that pit the man against his son? Either way, he couldn’t help Izzy until he found out where they’d taken her.

  Standing around twiddling his thumbs was not his style. Before he had traveled to ancient Scotland, he had considered himself a man of action. The people around here called him a Highlander, but the only thing he had in common with warriors like Niall Sinclair’s men was a Scottish heritage.

  Until now.

  Nothing, not even a sword-wielding Highlander, would keep him from finding Izzy.

  Bull halted, several yards away from where Gavin was arguing with his brother, and listened. It was prudent to stay inconspicuous, and use his ears and eyes.

  Safer too, since each man gripped the hilt of a weapon.

  When their voices turned to shouts, he tensed. Would they come to blows? The instant one of the men mentioned Isobel, he blundered into the fight, and pushed the men apart. “Do either of you know where we can find Izzy, or not?”

  “Buchanan…Bull,” Gavin said, pulling him a few feet away from Niall, “my brother fears, as do I, that one of our father’s mercenaries dropped the sgian dubh, and it makes sense that it occurred when he took Isobel.”

  “Because the weapon belonged to your mother?”

  Niall growled, and sucked in a deep breath before answering. “Our stepmother, aye. The only reason someone would have her knife was if my father had gifted it to them.”

  “Which means what?” Bull asked.

  Niall glanced at Gavin. “The Laird’s latest wife must be dead.”

  “Father has Izzy?” Gavin whispered, probably not to alert Jenny.

  Bull glared at the men. Did they mean Izzy was in the Sinclair leader’s control? If the answer was yes, was she in mortal danger?

  “If he has her, how do we get her back?” His voice was deep and threatening, but low. His anger was not aimed at Gavin. Gavin would never harm Izzy.

  Well, maybe not until he got what he wanted from her.

  “We have more to concern us, than the loss of one female.”

  “What the Hell? Izzy is more than a woman we’ve misplaced.”

  “Patience. Through a man in my service, I received secret information about a coming battle, possibly orchestrated against us, by our father,” Niall said.

  “You spy on your father?” Bull was incredulous, but when Gavin smiled, he snapped his mouth shut.

  The younger warrior’s smile soon vanished. “Our father is a beast. He keeps many secrets. Our father has gathered many hired warriors, no’ all clansmen. He dinna’ openly discuss the target, but we have seen the signs.”

  “What does any of this have to do with Izzy? He won’t attack Izzy. Will he?” Bull pivoted on his toes, desperate to start a search.

  Niall, his hand still fisted around the sheathed dirk at his side, didn’t respond, until he had gulped a couple of deep breaths. “Take this. Ye may find yerself wanting.”

  Bull gripped the offered dirk, then looped the sheath on his wide belt. “Thanks.”

  “Use it well. I fear our father has something planned. He wanted to discuss it with me, until I told him I wanted no part in it, even after he tempted me and my lads with an evening of food, fun, and frolic.”

  “Explain.” Bull said.

  “On the eve of battle, father hosts a grand celebration. Most revelry includes a make-believe battle. A war game.”

  “A game? Like the Highland games?”

  Gavin chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest. “Aye, ‘tis similar to what I saw, when I watched Isobel from afar. Father’s celebrations last into the night, and include swordplay, archery, and multiple feats of strength.”

  “Fine food, and the constant flow from kegs of ale, make for a pleasant evening. Father usually stops the men’s drinking before they are too intoxicated by providing the warriors with…women.”

  The brothers glared, in what Bull assumed, was the direction of the castle.

  “OmiGod! Isobel!” Bull said.

  “Doona’ fret, Highlander. We will rescue her before any warrior touches her this night.” Niall added.

  After they discussed their plans, a small convoy of mounted men trotted toward Tulac Castle, but Bull’s thoughts roamed elsewhere. He squeezed his eyes shut at the memory of sliding into her heat. His body tightened, as he imagined the taste of her kisses, and the exquisite fragrance he had come to know, as Izzy MacHamish.

  We will save her!

  Bull wanted to commandeer their fastest horse and gallop to her rescue, but calmer heads prevailed. He’d never set eyes on the castle in question, so he was forced to follow the Sinclair brothers. Placing his trust in them gnawed at Bull’s insides.

  “The castle is near the Gunn border, which is due west, right?” Bull asked, though he was certain he knew the truth. Izzy had mentioned she was close to her farm.

  “Aye, Father’s castle is close to the Gunn clan’s border. Isobel’s property is that way,” Gavin said, pointing southwest of their location.

  They trotted through the forest, then crossed the river in the shallows, north of the waterfall. Bull made note of the safe crossing area, just in case. His recent trek through ancient Scotland taught him to be wary and prepared, usually at the same time.

  His attention wavered when they passed large clumps of the flower Izzy called chamomile. If he ever made it back home alive, he’d study the plants and wildlife of the country.

  “Yer staring at flowers, Highlander. ‘Tis no’ manly, ye know.”

  Bull smiled. Gavin meant to embarrass him. “Izzy loves flowers and herbs.”

  “Aye, ‘tis the old witch’s influence, I assume.”

  “Dorcas Swann? You’ve met her?”

  “Her reputation precedes her. I found Isobel after hearing the old witch had hired her, and helped her escape to yer world.”

  Bull bristled at the man’s view of life. He never mentioned love or even romance. “Gavin, if you plan to spend your life with a woman like Izzy, you should learn more about the things she loves, or why she felt the need to escape her homeland.”

  Gavin picked a bunch of dark red berries from a tree. “These are the fruit of the Rowan Tree. I know enough no’ to eat them. Poisonous. Dorcas, however, uses them as medicine. I listen.”

  “What? Sounds like digitalis, or snake venom. Used correctly, they can cure. Used incorrectly, or with malice of forethought, they can kill.” Bull would have to learn much more about this land if he planned to stay.

  Whoa! I am not staying!

  As they left the forest far behind, and arrived at a deep valley, the last vestiges of daylight lingered. Night was nearly upon them, which might help their small group. Bull squinted and barely made out the large peaks that rose in the distance. A deep black forest circled the base at the far side of the valley. To the right, Sinclair’s Castle climbed toward the sky. Its craggy spires and dull gray walls overlooked a large grassy area beside a stream. Below its walls, dozens of men grappled in the meadow between the castle and the stream.

  Swords clanged in one area, and naked men wres
tled in another. A side of beef turned on a spit, and kegs of something--he assumed ale--sat in a horse-drawn wagon. Smaller fires dotted the landscape, and the aroma of fresh-baked bread made his stomach rumble.

  “Shhh,” Niall whispered. They had left most of the men farther behind, and crouched behind prickly bushes.

  Bull, also crouching, nodded, then licked his lips. A glass of beer, or what passed for beer in this time, would taste mighty good, but he had to save Izzy, first.

  “Do you think she’s around here?” Bull asked. He pointed toward the various women tending the food.

  Gavin stretched up to get a better look, gazed at the sight, then growled. “Let us pray she is no’ among those women.”

  Bull glared at him, then saw the look that passed between Gavin and his brother. “Oh, no, don’t tell me these are the women who…”

  “I recognize a few of our local whores, but several free clan women are tending these men this day. From the fear on their faces, it is no’ by choice. Many of these warriors, such as those wrestling, and the six taking turns tossing the caber, are no’ of our clan.”

  “Who are they?”

  “Mercenaries,” Niall and Gavin said, together.

  Bull crouched closer to the brothers. “One of them could have dropped the sgian dubh? Could have kidnapped Izzy?”

  “Aye, but he would have had magical assistance. Izzy would have screamed and fought like a wildcat, and we heard nothing. There was no sign of a struggle.”

  “Niall, you didn’t see what else we found.” Bull told him about the shoes and hair ribbon. He turned to Gavin. “You don’t see her, right?”

  Gavin crouched low once more. “Nay. She may be inside. With our father.”

  “Does that mean she’s safe?”

  Niall smirked, then frowned. “If our stepmother no longer has her weapon, then she is dead.”

  “I am sorry for your loss,” Bull whispered.

  Gavin chuckled low, then also grew stern-faced. “What my older brother means, is that if she be dead, our father requires a new mistress for his household. Isobel might be the chosen one.”

  Bull grabbed Gavin’s shoulder, and shook him. “What?”

  ***

  Anice unlocked the cell door. Izzy had stepped back to watch who belonged to the footsteps, and relief washed over her, at the sight of the gray-haired old woman. Her visitor did not smile. She cowered, as if under duress.