Highlander Warrior

by Rebecca Preston

  “No need to stand on ceremony. When you’ve eaten, would you mind showing me back to Maeve’s room? I’d like to check up on how she’s recovering.”

  “I imagine you two have a lot to talk about,” he replied. “Did you sleep well?”

  “Well enough. Strange dreams.”

  Ian nodded. “Maeve had those too, when she first arrived. I’m sure she’ll tell you about them herself. C’mon, lass.” He cleared his throat. “Sorry. Cora. Force of habit, you understand.”

  She shrugged. “I suppose ‘lass’ is alright. So long as you don’t go back to ‘girlie’.”

  Ian led her through the winding passages and up several narrow flights of winding stairs — all these people must have incredibly muscular calves, Cora thought grumpily to herself as her legs complained about all the unaccustomed effort. She lived in a ground-floor single-story apartment — or at least, she had lived in one. God, she hoped someone would come by and feed her cats…the lady in the apartment next door had always been friendly. She’d notice, surely, if Cora didn’t come home, and she knew where the emergency spare key was kept…besides, the cats had a cat flap. They wouldn’t just stay in the house and starve to death. Would they?

  “Here’s her room. I’ll leave you both to it,” Ian said quietly, sketching her an odd little bow before leaving her in the hallway. It looked less intimidating in daylight, sun filtering through onto the paved floor. She tapped a few times on the solid oak doors, heard a voice inside calling for her to come in.

  There was Audrina, propped up in the bed by a mountain of pillows with her husband by her side. He was holding one of the babies, gently dabbing at its face with a handkerchief or small piece of fabric. Audrina was feeding the other one, looking for all the world like she’d been doing it for years — a more confident young mother Cora had never seen. A smile split across Audrina’s face when she saw Cora. For a little while last night, she’d been doubting her own sanity — surely it couldn’t be Audrina, not really, not in this strange place. She was just a woman who bore a striking resemblance, she’d told herself, some Scottish woman that Cora had, in desperation, seized upon as a familiar presence. But no — she’d know that smile anywhere, and that shock of wild red hair (she noticed with amusement that Audy had found time to brush it. It was her only vanity, that glorious hair.)

  “Audrina James, you madwoman.”

  “Audrina MacClaran, I think you’ll find,” Colin pointed out, a teasing quality in his voice. He gently rocked the baby in his arms, beaming down at it.

  “Cora can call me whatever she likes.”

  Cora nodded, smiling. “You can call yourself Queen Latifah as far as I’m concerned. I can’t believe it’s really you. You know you’ve been gone for two years?”

  Audrina nodded. “That sounds right. I’ve been here for two years, too.” She frowned. “Of course. You didn’t — you wouldn’t have known where I went.”

  “Oh, no, it was obvious. Medieval Scotland, of course.”

  She laughed, her nose crinkling in that endearing way it always had — Cora crossed to sit on the bed beside her, her heart full of joy to see her friend again.

  “Cora, I’m so sorry. You must’ve been so upset. We always promised to be there for each other — to look after each other no matter what — and I just…disappeared one day.”

  “It was hard,” Cora admitted. “I was terrified you’d been kidnapped or killed or worse. The police searched for a little while, but they just assumed you’d had an accident somewhere...” She was embarrassed to realize there were tears in her eyes.

  Audrina took her hand in her free one and gave it a squeeze, a comforting gesture. “Nothing like that, thank god. It was crazy. I just — woke up in a field, surrounded by cows.”

  Cora laughed. “I woke up on a dirt road and nearly got trampled by a horse.”

  “Ian’s black gelding? I don’t know why he insists on riding that creature. It’s thrown him more times than I can count.”

  “He’s a stubborn man,” Colin interjected from the other side of the room, where he’d been tucking the baby into a wooden crib. “And very taken with you, from what I heard, Cora.”

  Cora fought an uncharacteristic urge to blush. “He brought me here. I’m very grateful.”

  “Not as grateful as we are,” Colin said firmly. “I strongly believe the Lord God himself brought you here.”

  “You were keeping your promise,” Audrina murmured, squeezing Cora’s hand again. “Remember? We swore we’d always be there for each other when it counted. You always used to say you’d kill me if I ever had a baby without you there.”

  Cora laughed. “Well, here I am. You gave it a damn good shot but you couldn’t get away from me. But — please, there’s got to be more to this story.” She gestured around the room — at the Laird, the babies, the castle itself.

  “Well. It’s a long story and I’ll admit I don’t fully understand it. You know what a skeptic I’ve always been. But — it seems my ancestor was a woman named Maeve. On the night of her wedding — to Colin, here — she was taken away by a cruel English lord. Have you ever heard of Prima Noctem? Basically, a Lord claims the right to deflower every new bride on her wedding night. It’s barbaric, honestly.”

  “And it’s over,” Colin added menacingly, suddenly seemingly taller in the small space. Definitely not a man Cora would ever want to get on the wrong side of.

  “But this man kept her longer than one night — did truly terrible things to her. But he didn’t count on her power. She cast some kind of — of spell, or ritual — she called through the years to her descendants, to return to her love and get revenge on her tormentor. Then she — well, she died.” Audrina — Maeve — looked deeply saddened at this, and Colin touched her shoulder and bent to press a quick kiss to her forehead. “A year later, I appeared. Called by her, through time and space, back to Scotland. Back to my love.” She smiled up at Colin — a look Cora had never seen on her face before. Pure love.

  “You were always obsessed with Scotland, weren’t you? No wonder, if some — some ancestor was calling to you your whole life.”

  “I was confused at first,” she admitted. “I had no idea why everyone seemed to recognize me, and even as I learned about Maeve I didn’t think I could live up to her memory. But as time went on, I began to remember. Dreams, mostly, and visions — memories that she shared with me. We’re not the same person exactly, she and I, but I think we share the same spirit.”

  “I’m sure of it,” Colin murmured.

  “Why else would I have fallen in love with this big brute?” Audrina joked, gently punching Colin on his broad shoulder.

  He chuckled, curling an arm around her shoulders and pretending to mess up her hair, though Cora noticed he was careful to only displace a few strands — even in teasing he was respectful. Her approval of this strange Scottish lord continued to rise. Cora had always had incredibly high standards for the kind of men she’d allow anywhere near her beloved friend — they’d spent long nights arguing over whether or not bad behavior from would-be suitors could be tolerated or not. But this man — she had to admit, her Audy had done rather well for herself. Colin gathered up the other baby from his wife’s chest and she wrapped her gown around herself, watching him fondly as he tucked his daughter into bed in the crib beside her brother.

  “So I guess — this is it, huh? You’re not coming home?”

  “This is home,” Audrina said firmly. “My life here — my family — they’re more real than anything ever was back home. I wouldn’t go back even if I could.”

  “I would,” Cora said bluntly. “No offense, but — I have a life back home. Responsibilities.”

  “You could have a life here, Cora! It’s — it’s beautiful here. You ought to see the sun rise over the heather — and god, the castle could use a midwife and healer with your skillset. We lost a great midwife shortly after I went missing, and the castle as well as the village have been all the worse for it. I’ve helpe
d with a few births, but you know it was never my strong suit.”

  Cora hesitated. “Look, I — I don’t know. I’m so glad you’re here, Maeve, and you’re happy and thriving and alive. Honestly, I am. But I — San Francisco is my home. I never had your wanderlust. I want to go back, if I can. Will you help me?”

  “Of course,” she murmured, though her eyes were sad. “If we can get you home, we will, Cora. But — can you stay for a little while, at least? I’ve missed you so much...”

  Cora threw her arms around Audrina, pulling her close, half-laughing and half-crying. Audrina returned the embrace, burying her face in Cora’s hair.

  “My dearest friend,” Cora murmured into her ear. “I’ll stay for as long as you’ll have me.”

  Chapter 9

  It felt like they hugged for hours. It was so, so good to be back in her friend’s life again. Back in San Francisco, she’d have killed even for a hint about what had happened to Audrina — to know if she was dead or alive, if she’d been kidnapped or just decided to leave of her own account. If she was happy, and safe, and looked after. To know that she was happier than she’d ever been, with a pair of beautiful baby twins to call her own and a handsome, kind husband to care for her — that was more than Cora had ever dreamed for her friend.

  And on top of all that, she’d been able to be there for the birth, just like she’d always promised. It was what she’d always wanted — for her skillset, for the thing she was best at in the world to be of service to her loved ones in their time of need. And that wish had been granted. As she finally released Audrina from her embrace, smiling, she uttered a silent, but fervent prayer of gratitude to God for his mysterious, incredible hand in bringing this reunion about.

  Colin joined them again, put a gentle hand on Audrina’s shoulder as he noticed the tears of joy standing in her eyes. He turned his blue eyes to Cora.

  “As long as you’re here, you’re welcome in this household. You’ll be our honored guest, and want for nothing. But as my wife here mentioned, we are without a midwife...”

  “I’m in. Sign me up.”

  He laughed. “So eager!”

  “I don’t like lying around. I’ll make myself useful.”

  “I told you she was good,” Audrina murmured to her husband, a wide grin on her face. “Always looking for something to do.”

  “I’ll help get this one back in fighting shape — and stop her trying to do too much too quickly, more to the point,” Cora added, giving her friend a meaningful look. Audrina had always pushed herself far too hard. “And if you’d like, I can train a few people to replace me once I go home. Midwifing’s a craft that can be learned like any other — there’s no reason your local healers can’t pick up the art themselves.”

  “I’ll show you my tower later,” Audrina said brightly. “I’ve been stockpiling herbs for months, figuring out replacements for modern medicine — it’ll be so great to have someone who understands a little better...”

  “When you’re rested,” Cora said sharply.

  Colin beamed at her. “That’s what I like to hear. I couldn’t ask for a better nurse for my wife.”

  “Hear that? I’m the nurse,” Cora said smugly.

  Audrina rolled her eyes, but she was smiling.

  “I’d better leave you to rest. An afternoon nap doesn’t make up for a labor like that, not right away.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Cora let herself out, still smiling. It felt so good to have Audrina back in her life (she’d call her Maeve out loud and in front of the staff, but she’d always be Audrina in her head.) And knowing that she had a useful purpose calmed her nerves considerably, too. She believed, for now, that she was back in time and in Scotland. But if she’d gotten back here, somehow, she could find a way back. And while she looked for it, she could do the thing she did best. Not a bad setup, all things considered.

  “Hello, Bellina.”

  The Laird’s mother — Mary — had appeared in a doorway, and she was looking right at her.

  Cora glanced behind her, a little confused, but the hallway was deserted.

  Mary smiled, gestured her over — she did as she was bade.

  “I know you’re using a different name now — I absolutely understand, and I’ll call you Cora in front of the servants. But please — tell me how you did it.”

  “Did what?”

  “We thought you were dead.” Mary was speaking in a low voice, clearly not wanting to be overheard. “We heard from Italy that you’d been burned as a heretic — we grieved for you, Bellina! If only we’d known you survived — and you found your way back to us in our hour of need. You always did have such excellent timing.”

  “Madam, I think you must be mistaken,” Cora said, confusion on her face. “I’m not Bellina — I’ve never been to Italy. I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Mary hesitated. “You — you don’t?”

  “I wish I did, honestly. You’ve all been extremely kind to me, but — but that’s not my name.”

  “Interesting,” Mary breathed, thoughts flashing rapidly across her face that Cora couldn’t read. “Very interesting…when Maeve got here, she didn’t remember her true name either...”

  “What do you mean? Who’s Bellina?”

  A group of servants rounded the corner, chattering amongst themselves and laughing, and Mary broke off from whatever she had been about to say. One of the women in the group stared at Cora as she passed, a look of recognition and shock on her face. As they hurried away, Cora could have sworn she heard the woman murmuring to her friends — “…thought she was dead…didn’t they burn that witch?”

  Mary frowned after the servants, then glanced back at Cora, a strange sympathy on her face. “We’ll talk when you’ve got your bearings a little more, my dear.”

  The woman strode off down the hallway toward the kitchens, leaving Cora feeling more at a loss than she had since she’d woken up. God, just when she thought she was getting a handle on what was happening, the universe threw her another curve ball. God worked in mysterious ways, that was true, but this was getting steadily more ridiculous and she wasn’t sure how long she was going to be able to hold up under all this mystery.

  “I just hope you know what you’re doing,” she mumbled, glancing toward the ceiling and touching her rosary beads.

  Chapter 10

  Cora returned to her chambers. A fresh fire had been lit, which she appreciated — it chased the chill out of the room, and besides, she’d always loved fire. There was something so peaceful about the crackling of the logs, the licking of the flames along the embers. She settled herself down next to it with the plate of pastries that had been quietly refilled for her, and murmured another grateful little thanks to Margaret, whose influence she sensed in all the well-run corners of this castle. For a little while, she experimented with melting pieces of cheese onto the pastries, and when she’d had her fill, she just stared into the flames for a while, meditatively thinking of absolutely nothing.

  Perhaps she ought to try to get some more rest? It was tempting to just curl up in the bed again — but she could feel that her thoughts were racing too quickly to allow her to sleep. Besides, she’d already spent a good chunk of the afternoon napping. She wanted to be able to get accustomed to sleeping through the night as soon as possible — to recover from the sleep debt or the cosmic jet lag or whatever it was that was making her feel so damned exhausted. Routine was important. Once she was rested, she could start making herself useful. And start working on finding a way home. If magic or ritual had brought her here, surely magic or ritual could send her home — and maybe the tower of mysterious herbs that Audrina had mentioned would hold an answer or two.

  These ruminations were interrupted by a gentle tapping on the door — a rhythm she was beginning to recognize. These suspicions were confirmed by the voice that came through the door. Ian, checking up on her yet again. She rose to her feet, smiling despite herself, and opened the door. He�
��d changed his clothes, finally, and tidied himself up a bit — she noticed he was wearing a kilt and did her best not to stare. She’d not seen them much in real life before. The tartan was beautiful — a pattern she recognized from around the castle. The patterns were linked to family, weren’t they? Each family had a distinctive pattern, like a uniform…

  “You’re looking a bit more presentable,” she greeted him, arching an eyebrow.

  “I’ll take that as a compliment, I think.” Running a hand through his short sandy hair, he gestured vaguely down the corridor. “I was going to offer to show you around the castle a little. Give you a proper tour, help you get your bearings and all.”

  “That would be most appreciated,” she replied, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious. It felt a little like being asked on a date, admittedly in an absurdly formal way — here he stood, on her doorstep, asking her to come for a stroll with him. She almost collapsed in a fit of giggles when he offered her his arm — but she took it nevertheless to quell the look of confusion and worry that began to stir in his eyes. This kind of behavior wasn’t quaint to him, it occurred to her — it was just how he naturally conducted himself. That made it incredibly charming, she had to admit.

  They took a long, meandering route around the castle, and with his help she was able to get a much stronger sense of where everything was. They talked as they went — his company was comfortable, and he was an easy man to get along with. He was funny, joking with her about her ‘strange future ideas’, and full of stories about the castle.

  “You love this place, don’t you?” she asked as he finished telling her about a statue that stood in the east wing — there was a chip in the base of it that had been caused, then inexpertly covered up, by young Donal a few years ago. It had been a castle-wide mystery, by all accounts. He looked up from where he’d been rubbing at the chip with the side of his thumb, hazel eyes sparkling with laughter at the story, and considered her question.