To Conquer a Scot (A Time Traveler’s Highland Love)

by Gill, Tamara

  “If you’ll excuse me, my lords. I’m off to bed,” she said, as evenly as she could. Not wanting Rory to hear the fear in her voice.

  Aedan nodded and let her go. Gwen joined her at the stairs and they headed to their rooms together. Abby had an overwhelming urge to run, but she didn’t. If she was to survive the dreadful Rory Kirk then she must look as unflustered as possible.

  Easier said than done.

  ...

  The next day Abby sat in the great hall, Gwen having headed upstairs to gather more wool for a shawl she was teaching her to knit. Sunlight filtered through the tall windows facing west, the afternoon warm and welcoming.

  Most of the guests had dispersed down toward the games to watch the events, but Gwen, not feeling the best today, had decided to stay at the castle. Abby leaned down and grabbed another ball of wool, tying it to the knitting needle as Gwen had shown her.

  Footsteps sounded on the flagstone floor, and Rory Kirk strode into the room. He looked about, and spotting her near the fire, walked over and sat in the chair opposite to her.

  Abby tentatively smiled, and continued on with her knitting. “Lovely day today. Are you enjoying your stay at Druiminn?”

  He leaned back in the chair, his hands tapping the side in manic rhythm. “I’m finding my stay most opportune, as you’re fully aware. As I said last eve, I’d heard ye were here, but I hadn’t expected it to be true. Although yer way of speaking is new, it does nay fool me, lass.”

  She took a fortifying breath, sick and tired of hearing she was someone she was not. “I’m very sorry your betrothed has gone missing. I’m sure you miss her very much, but it’s not I who you seek.”

  “Is it not?” He stared at her a moment, before beckoning a passing servant to fetch him some ale. His coarse speech and demeaning manner toward the staff irked her, and Abby glared at him.

  “No, it’s not.” She thanked the servant for the cup of ale that was passed to him. “As I said, last night was the first time I’ve had the pleasure of meeting you. I do not doubt that I may look familiar to the woman you loved, but that’s where the similarities stop.”

  “So you’re not Coira Travis, the woman who, the night before our handfasting, disappeared into the night like a ghost?” His attempt at a smile turned into a scowl. “’Tis been a tiresome few months, and I think you owe me an explanation as to how you came to be here.”

  She sighed, inwardly cursing the idiotic man who refused to believe who she was. Perhaps she ought to tell him of the time she really was from, that might shut him up for a while. Go and get her cell phone and take a photo of him and scare him shitless. But as he stared at her mockingly, waiting to hear her lie, or so he thought, Abby took a calming breath instead.

  “I came here at the invitation of Gwendolyn. I’m not Scottish or English, and traveled from France to be here. I’m sorry if that’s not the answer you want, but it’s all I have to give. I don’t want any trouble, my lord. I swear on my soul I’m not who you’re looking for.”

  He made a growling noise, standing and walking over to the windows. “Ye see, I think you’re saying these things to cause me angst. For months, I’ve wondered where ye were, if you were safe, who ye were with? And now I know. I must admit I’m a little disappointed in ye. I thought you would’ve traveled to your family in England rather than stay in the wilds of Scotland ye so detested.”

  “Again, my lord, I must state that I am not the Coira you seek and to be honest, I’m getting sick of you singling me out over it. Perhaps you should ask yourself why it is that she decided to leave you in the first place.” His eyes burned with hatred and pinned her to the spot. Never had she seen such menace swirling about in soulless eyes. She shivered.

  “Why don’t you tell me, then?”

  “Because I am not her!” she yelled, standing and storming over to where he stood. “I’m going to say this once, and only once. I’m not her, so if it’s Coira you seek, perhaps you ought to visit her family and start your search there.”

  A servant walked past and cast them a curious look.

  “I know you’re a lying wench, and I’ll prove it before I leave. Don’t cross me any more than you already have, my sweet little bride-to-be. It wouldn’t be in your best interest.”

  “Are you threatening me? Really?” Abby went nose to nose with him, well, nose to chest anyway, and glared. A muscle worked in his jaw, and for a moment she regretted getting so close to him. “I won’t hesitate to tell Laird MacLeod of your continual annoyance over this matter. I’ve never met you in my life and from what I’ve seen of you since last night, I’m thankful for that. Now if you don’t mind, I have things to do. Have a pleasant day.”

  Abby took a step and gasped when he clasped her arm and wrenched her back up against his chest.

  “I don’t like being made a fool of, lass. Keep up your inability to remember me, and my patience will expire.”

  His voice, devoid of emotion or feeling, left her colder than the stone of the castle walls. Abby wrenched herself free, absently rubbing her flesh. “Don’t ever touch me again. Ever.” Abby walked toward the stairs as Gwen came down. “I’m tired, Gwen, I’m going to head up to my room for a little while, if that’s okay.”

  Gwen nodded. “Of course. Will you be down for dinner?”

  “Yes, but not before.” Abby smiled to hide her unease. The heat of Rory Kirk’s glare on her back followed her upstairs until she was out of sight.

  ...

  Later that night she rolled over and cuddled up to Aedan who slept beside her. A cold weather front had come through during late afternoon, and the games had finished early. Aedan had sought her out, and finding her asleep, had awakened her in the most delicious way possible, allowing her, for a time, to forget the vile Rory Kirk.

  “Aedan, are you asleep?” He murmured something unintelligible and she smiled. “Wake up, I need to tell you something.”

  “Hmm,” he said, stroking her back with his arm, making her skin prickle. “What is it, lass?”

  “I need to tell you what Rory Kirk keeps doing to me.”

  She felt him come full awake, his muscles tightening at her words. “He better nay be doing anything with ye.”

  His tone was deadly and she leaned up, kissing him on the cheek. “Nothing like that, I promise you.” Eww, the thought of being intimate with the man was enough to make her vomit. “He keeps harassing me about being this Coira woman he’s lost. Every chance he gets to corner me alone, he tries to make me admit it.”

  “Why did ye not tell me when this happened, lass? I would’ve put a stop to it immediately.”

  All day Abby had debated telling him of the man’s persistence, but then thought better of it before changing her mind yet again. She’d hoped that if maybe she continued to deny his claims, he’d soon look past her similarities to this Coira woman and move on. But his glower during this evening’s meals had made her uneasy. Abby had to tell Aedan what was going on. “Worried, I suppose. I didn’t want to make any more trouble for you, considering everything that was happening here already. I’m sorry.”

  “Nay, lass, don’t be sorry. I’ll talk to him in the morn, and threaten to pull his head out of his ass. Ye no need to worry about him any further, in any case, for I believe that no matter ye desire for ye friend Mae to marry for love, her brother is determined to have her settled before he returns home.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked, dread like a hard ball in her belly.

  “Rory Kirk mentioned today that he’s spoken to Alec, Mae’s brother and said that they may possibly align their families and marry.”

  Abby sat up with a start. Imagining the sweet Mae married to Rory was more abhorrent than his fetid breath. “What did you say? I hope you persuaded him otherwise. I know for a fact Mae doesn’t wish to marry him, and is actually in love with someone.”

  Aedan sat up and leaned against the headboard. Abby’s attention momentarily turned to his chest and the line of muscle that it housed, befo
re meeting his eyes.

  “How do you know this?”

  “I told you all this the day I asked you to lose the sword event. The day I was testing Mae to see if she’d be a good match for you, she spoke of it.” Abby shook her head, not liking the small seed of worry that had settled in her belly. “She said herself her brother believes an association with Rory Kirk would be beneficial to her family, but it wouldn’t, Aedan. There’s something wrong with that man. He’s obsessed with this Coira woman. Obviously, he’s missing a few screws, if you know what I mean.”

  “Aye, I understand.” He sighed. “I’ll talk to Alec on the morn and see if he’s serious about making his sister marry into Rory’s clan and try and persuade him otherwise.”

  Abby knelt beside him, unable to stop herself from touching his toned abdomen, liking the way his smooth skin felt against her palm. “And will you try and dissuade him of the notion? Rory Kirk is dangerous. I don’t like him at all.”

  He grabbed her hand, stilling her administrations when it dipped lower on his stomach. “He hasn’t hurt ye, has he?”

  “No. Of course not,” she lied, remembering his harsh grip on her arm. She shouldn’t protect a man whom she believed was fairly free with his fists when around women he boasted to love, but then she didn’t want Aedan to declare war on his clan, either. It was bad enough he was looking for retribution toward the O’Cains. “I’m sure he’s hurt his betrothed. I don’t know if the girl is dead or alive, or run back to her family in England, but she’s better off away from that man. I don’t want Mae to suffer the same fate. She deserves so much better.”

  “Understandable.” He pulled her down to lay beside him, his hand idly stroking her bare arm. “Promise me you’ll tell me if anyone, Rory Kirk, or even a member of my clan, threatens or causes ye distress.”

  She smiled up at him, counting her blessings that she was in the bed with a sweet, loving medieval Highlander. “I promise. I’ll not keep anything from you.”

  “Thank ye,” he said, kissing her temple quickly before attempting sleep once more.

  She watched him for a while before sleep, too, took her worries away.

  ...

  The games continued as normal, but no longer were they carefree and fun—an underlying vein of tension thrummed around everyone. Aedan hadn’t visited her bedchamber for the last two nights, and she was starting to wonder if he believed the ridiculous declaration from Laird Kirk.

  But she dismissed the notion as soon as she thought it. Aedan knew where she’d come from and how, but it didn’t explain why he’d taken to his own bed instead of hers.

  She stood under a large tree, watching the stone put only a few yards away, a test of a man’s skill when throwing a large boulder the farthest. And some of those stones were boulders that Abby would struggle to even pick up. A hand clasped tight about her arm and pulled her behind a large shrub.

  “How did ye get here, ye whore of an English bitch?”

  She cringed at Rory Kirk’s tight hold and remembering her self-defense course, she lifted her elbow and wrenched free of his painful grip. “Do not touch me.” She thanked God her voice sounded strong and didn’t wobble with the paralyzing fear welling up inside.

  “Tell me how ye came to be in the Highlands and staying at the bastard MacLeod’s keep.”

  “I said before, I’m not who you think I am. Although after meeting you, I can understand why your fiancée left. You’re a brute who probably hit her a little too hard and made her disappearance permanent.”

  He snarled. “Ye still have a mouth on ye that needs to be shut. Perhaps I ought to put ye on your knees and make ye mute by other means.”

  She gasped. “Go ahead, but don’t expect your dick to be on your person afterward, you bastard.”

  He punched her in the stomach, and she dropped to her knees. She gasped for breath, unable to get enough air into her lungs. A cold sweat broke out on her skin, and she clasped at the grass beneath her hands while trying to calm herself.

  “Ye will be my wife and you’ll keep your mouth shut, less something dreadful happens to ye precious laird’s sister. I’d hate for the bonny lass Gwen to break her neck while out riding her horse. Do ye understand, Coira?”

  She met his gaze and stood, her legs far from steady. “You touch one hair on Gwen’s head, and you’ll be dead before you cross the castle’s threshold.”

  “You hold the laird’s abilities against mine too high, lass. Do you not remember ye life back at Gladdis Castle? I’ll have to ensure when you return with me that you’re reacquainted with dizzying speed.”

  “I will never go there with you.” She finally took a full breath, the action making her queasy. “If you weren’t so blind with anger, you’d see I’m not who you seek.”

  “’Tis you, and I’ll not be leaving here without ye. I’ll also ensure the Laird MacLeod will feel my full wrath by taking in and hiding one of my own.”

  “I will not stay quiet about your treatment of me today. I suggest you leave before you cannot.”

  He crossed his arms, his manner one of mocking confidence. “I’m not known for my kindness. If ye want to keep those who’ve given ye shelter safe from impaling themselves on my sword, I’d keep your mouth shut.” He pulled her close, his putrid breath turning her stomach. “Do ye understand now, lass? Or do I need to show you in other ways to secure your belief.”

  She nodded, the burn of tears threatening behind her lids. Damn bastard. Never had she been handled in such a way. “I understand. Now let me go.”

  He did, and staggering to stand, she walked back toward where Gwen sat watching the event. She checked her gown, making sure there were no signs of the struggle she’d been in. Her arm ached, and she rubbed it without giving away what had occurred.

  Taking a deep breath, she struggled to calm her rapid heartbeat. Gwen smiled in welcome and patted the bench beside her to sit. Aedan walked past and caught her eye, throwing her one of his wicked smiles and she grinned back, not wishing to alert him to the trouble she now found herself. Why the laird of Kirk would think she was his ex-fiancée was too bizarre to even contemplate, but contemplate she should. This could turn into a very bad situation.

  “Gwen, when do you think I can go home?” Gwen looked at her in alarm and she read the hurt her question caused, but what other option did she have? Rory Kirk wasn’t of sound mind, and the awful threats he’d promised her didn’t bear thinking about.

  “I’ve been meaning to speak to you about that.” Gwen looked about, ensuring their privacy. “For the last few days I’ve not been able to see the aura that accompanied the magic around ye. I think it’d be safe for ye to return home whenever you like.”

  “Really?” Hope welled up within her, followed by despair. She wasn’t ready to go home yet, but that choice now seemed out of her hands. To keep Gwen safe and Aedan from fighting with the barbaric Rory Kirk, she’d have to go. Or she could tell them what he’d threatened. At least toward them. “So I could leave today if I liked.”

  Gwen frowned, but nodded. “Aye. Today, if it pleases ye.”

  It didn’t please her. Not at all. Just the thought of leaving made her heart ache. Rory walked past, his salacious smirk leaving her cold, no matter that the warm sun beat down on her back. “I think it’s time I leave. As much as I’ve come to love you all, I can’t stay any longer, not when I can return to my own time and leave you in peace.”

  “You’re no trouble, Abigail. We love having ye here with us, my brother especially.”

  Abby swallowed the lump in her throat, having never felt more welcome or loved in a long time. The word love bounced around in her brain, and she frowned. Had she come to feel more than mere “like” toward Aedan MacLeod? The memory of his touch, his kiss, and sweet words whispered to her when alone told her more than anything that she had indeed left those feelings well behind.

  “I will miss you both terribly. I know we didn’t start the best of friends, but I certainly do class you as one now.
” Gwen pulled her into a hug and Abby returned the gesture. Tears welled in her eyes and she laughed as they pulled away, Gwen, too, wiping her cheeks.

  “There aren’t any games tomorrow, will that be soon enough for ye?”

  She nodded. “More than soon enough.”

  ...

  Ben shook his head at the third sigh he’d counted coming from Gwen, seated beside him as they watched the last of the day’s games, a footrace between the clans. He cast her a curious glance and caught her eye. “Something troubling ye, lass? You seem to be sighing a lot.” She sighed again and he fought not to roll his eyes. “Out with it.”

  “Abigail has asked to go home.”

  “What?” Ben looked out to where Aedan stood talking to the delightful Abigail. She was a pretty lass, tall, nice shape, pleasing breasts…and by the way his friend gazed down on her, his carefree laugh ringing out across the field, Ben had the odd notion his friend had fallen in love.

  Which wasn’t a bad thing. Far from it. The lad had to marry someone, and the women parading around in front of him only saw the man as someone to give them a privileged life, a comfortable home. Not a man who could be loved or give love. “Then I’m sorry for your brother. He’ll not take it well.”

  “No, he won’t.” Gwen sniffed, and he noted her eyes had grown glassy.

  “Are ye crying?” Ben shifted in his seat, hating to see a woman who had held his own heart for many years, become upset. Not that they would ever be anything but friends, though not for want of trying on his behalf. He’d tried and failed and now she was destined for another. “Can ye not talk her out of it? Do you know why she’s so determined to leave? I thought the lass was happy here.”

  “So did I.” Gwen met his gaze, her lips pulled into a thin line. “I’m going to try and talk her out of it, but I doubt I’ll be successful. It’s like a twig has snapped in her mind and she no longer wants to be here.”

  Ben nodded, frowning. “Aye, but why? That is something we should find out.” He looked about the many clans that were at Druiminn Castle. Well, he looked at one clan in particular. Kirk. They stood to the side of the field, their salacious gazes raking the women present, the men showing no concern as to the offense they caused.