Kaden: A Clean Time Travel Highland Romance (Highland Passages Book 1)

by Annis Reid

  Kaden was now certain there would be no looking for a peaceful solution to their quarrel.

  One look across the table to where his uncle sat told Kaden he was not alone in understanding the situation. Clyde’s forehead was a mass of deep furrows as he pondered this. It seemed out of all of the men, only they were able to see clearly the folly of trusting a witch to do anything for them.

  If she was a witch at all.

  “And if she will not prove herself?” Clyde asked of a sudden, his voice low. “What then? What will ye do with her?”

  Kirk glowered down at his brother-in-law. Kaden understood this for what it was, frustration at always being questioned, at his grand moment being tainted by his thoughtful kin. For an instant, Kaden asked himself if Kirk would not rather be rid of Clyde altogether. One fewer voice to offer dissension and destroy a grand moment in which he’d felt like a king.

  “If she will not prove herself worthy, we shall dispense of her,” Kirk muttered. His fists tightened on the table. “There is no doubting she is a bad sort, witch or no. We canna allow one such as she to wander the highlands and bedevil us all. She shall meet a witch’s end if she will not prove her worth.”

  He turned his gaze to Kaden. “Ye shall see to it,” he decided.

  “I shall?”

  “Aye. Speak with her, tell her she has no choice but to do as I say. And soon. I am a man of little patience, and there is a battle to be won.” Kirk looked over the table as if challenging any man to speak against him. None of them would.

  Kaden gritted his teeth but nodded in agreement. The woman would have to prove herself, or else.

  5

  No matter how Anna looked at it, one thing was crystal clear. She was screwed.

  “Hello?” she called out, listening to her own voice as it echoed around the sprawling structure. They sure had a lot of horses, these guys, and those horses needed space to… do whatever horses did when they weren’t being ridden or whatever.

  No one answered. Big surprise. She sighed, tipping her head back, staring at the straw roof way up above her head.

  She couldn’t be dead. Death was ruled out. The way she saw it, an afterlife in which her bladder felt like it might burst at any moment would be the cruelest thing imaginable. She wasn’t a perfect person, but she wasn’t bad enough to go to hell.

  Was she? It wasn’t like she had ever killed anybody. She might’ve made a few bad decisions in the past, but she was as good a person as she knew how to be. Would just anybody have taken on the challenge of caring for a sick parent? Probably not.

  But while that might’ve been enough to keep her out of hell, was it enough to get her into heaven? If there even was such a place?

  So she was either hanging between life and death, the way she first assumed, or this was a dream. The aching pressure in her bladder told her she wasn’t dreaming—that and the horsey smell hanging in the air, and the feel of Kaden’s hands around her arms. All very real, all extremely vivid. Way too vivid to be a dream.

  So a dream was ruled out, too.

  That meant she was hanging between life and death.

  Or that she truly had somehow made her way five hundred years into the past.

  Right. Because that sort of thing ever happened.

  She laughed, exhausted and uncomfortable and hungry and overwhelmed in general. What was going to happen to her? Would she stay in this place forever?

  What would happen to her dad if she did?

  No. Not even. She closed her eyes, squeezed them tight. He’d be okay because she was going to get out of here somehow. Whatever this place was, wherever it was, she would get home.

  Shuffling footsteps outside. Her heart jumped into her throat. Who would it be? What would they want?

  “Hello?” a soft voice whispered. A girl’s voice.

  She could breathe a little easier. Just a girl. A girl wouldn’t hurt her.

  “In there.” A man’s voice. Kaden? She hoped so. He was the only one of them she could stand. He seemed to at least care whether she was telling the truth or not. None of the others did. They were okay with assuming she was who they thought she was.

  The footsteps grew louder until two people appeared on the other side of the wooden slats. One was small, fair-haired, with cornflower blue eyes. A pretty girl, maybe in her mid-to-late teens. And just as grimy as everybody else Anna had met so far.

  And the other was Kaden.

  There was no reason for her to feel relief at seeing him. After all, he had put her in this pen, hadn’t he? But he was still better than anybody else. “You didn’t forget me,” she murmured.

  He smiled. “How could I?”

  “Are ye a witch?” the girl blurted out, cheeks going red.

  Kaden growled. “I told ye, dinna speak to her.”

  “No, I’m not,” Anna said, ignoring the way he glared. “I’m not a witch, and you can tell everybody I said so.”

  “Dinna say any such thing,” he warned the girl. “Do ye ken? Not a word.”

  “But—” Anna blurted, ready to defend herself. Why wouldn’t she want everybody in that village or whatever it was to know she wasn’t a witch? She didn’t even check her horoscope!

  His eyes were piercing when they met hers. They told her to shut up.

  She did. He hadn’t looked at her that way yet, which meant he was serious now. There was a reason why she needed to stay quiet.

  The girl’s head bobbed up and down. “Ye need not fret,” she promised, gazing up at him. Anna snickered. She might as well have been one of those heart-eyed emojis. Totally in love with him.

  He didn’t notice, which made Anna feel sorry for the poor kid. “I brought Blair here to help ye see to your needs,” he explained, looking everywhere but at her. Embarrassed.

  “You mean, so I can pee?” she asked. “Why do we have to dance around the issue?”

  Blair’s face went red as a beet, while Kaden looked like he might burst a blood vessel. “Ye might take a bit more care with the words ye use,” he warned. “Our lassies are good, pure. Not the kind to speak so freely. Like a man.”

  “No, I wouldn’t wanna talk like a man,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. “Sorry, Blair. Didn’t mean to make you clutch your pearls.”

  “Clutch my pearls? I dinna own pearls,” Blair whispered. She was starting to look like she wished she hadn’t offered to help Kaden.

  And he was looking like he wished he’d never brought her along.

  “It’s just a saying,” Anna explained. The girl had no idea what she meant. Was she living under a rock?

  No. She was living in this village. Without electricity, without any modern conveniences. But who did that in this day and age?

  Unless it was really when Kaden said it was. No! Her good sense wouldn’t let her believe it. Things like that just didn’t happen, period.

  “Ye had better be getting on with it,” he muttered, opening the door, and now she saw he carried a wooden bucket by a rope handle.

  “You really expect me to go into that bucket?” she asked, eyeing it warily. “I mean, really?”

  “Unless ye wish to do so in your trousers, aye. I do verra much expect ye to.” He nodded to Blair, who scurried into the pen. “Dinna speak to her, I warn ye, or ye will find I am not always so kind.”

  “Oh, please, I wouldn’t wanna find out what you’re like when you’re not feeling generous,” she muttered under her breath as Blair led her to the far corner of the pen and placed the bucket on the floor. “Can I at least use one of my hands? I mean, Jesus, this is ridiculous.”

  “Nay,” Kaden decided, standing in the doorway to the pen with his broad back turned. “Ye may not.”

  “I’m not about to let this girl touch me there! No offense,” she murmured as an afterthought, while poor Blair looked like she wanted to die of embarrassment. That made two of them.

  “It seems she could not do any harm with just one hand free,” Blair reasoned, chewing her lip. “Do ye not agree, Kaden?
” Yes, she worshipped him. Poor thing. Sure, he was by far the best-looking man Anna had met so far, but he was about as sharp as a marshmallow.

  “Listen to her,” Anna urged. “Honestly. I’m not going to hurt anybody and I really, really have to go. Like it hurts. Please. Let me take care of myself. She can stay here with me, and you can stay there. I won’t try to escape.” She would’ve agreed to anything just then, so long as she could relieve herself.

  He sighed and grumbled and generally made a big deal of letting her know how unhappy he was, but he came to her and unlocked the cuff on her right wrist, anyway.

  “Thank you,” she breathed, then barely waited until he had his back turned again before she was unbuttoning her jeans and working them down over her hips.

  Blair averted her eyes, blushing again.

  Would the humiliation ever end?

  At least she wasn’t uncomfortable anymore, and she made it a point to thank Blair after standing and getting herself put back together. “Thanks a lot for helping,” she whispered.

  “I didna do anything,” Blair whispered back, smiling shyly. Oh, but she had. Kaden might not have been so reasonable if it was just the two of them, alone.

  “I told ye not to speak to her,” he barked, and she wasn’t sure which of them he was talking to. Maybe both of them.

  “Sorry,” she muttered. “Well? Are you gonna lock me back up or what?”

  His back stiffened, wide shoulders lifting. “Ye had best take care with that tongue of yours, woman, or ye might find yourself wishing ye had.” He entered the pen and closed the heavy shackle around her wrist again. She grimaced at its weight.

  When she did, she glanced up, and found him frowning, even wincing a little.

  Like he cared whether she was hurting.

  Was he putting on the hard act for Blair’s sake? So she wouldn’t tell anybody he was being nice to the so-called witch?

  His face hardened again. “Ye had best accustom yourself to this,” he muttered. “And think about how much better ye feel when ye are not locked in iron. If we could trust ye to behave yourself, it would be better for ye.”

  “And how many times do I have to tell you I’m not a witch? I don’t believe in astrology or crystals or any of that sort of thing, either. I have never so much as dabbled in paganism. I don’t know anybody who’s a Wiccan. I was raised Catholic, for God’s sake!”

  Blair and Kaden exchanged a glance. He cleared his throat, his handsome face twisting in a grimace. “Perhaps it would be best for ye to be on your way now. Thank ye for taking the time to help me.”

  Blair just about melted under his gaze. “Anything ye need, Kaden. I would be happy to come later with food and drink.”

  Just the mention of food made Anna’s stomach growl loudly. She made it a point to avoid eating just before a show. Nothing ruined a good song quicker than a loud belch in the middle of a line. She’d had a roll and a coffee after waking up, but that was it.

  Kaden shook his head. “There will be no need for that. But thank ye.” He lowered his head just slightly, murmuring, “If ye would leave this between us, I would be very grateful to ye.”

  Poor Blair. She was about ready to take off and fly around the stables, she was so thrilled. “Anything ye say, Kaden.” She held his gaze for a beat longer than was strictly necessary before hitching up the skirt of her long, plain gray dress and hurrying from the stables.

  Anna clicked her tongue, shaking her head. “I’m pretty sure if you asked her to cut herself open and give you one of her kidneys, she would have the knife in her hand before you finished the sentence.”

  He didn’t find this funny. “I would thank ye to hold your tongue when it comes to matters which have nothing to do with ye. Or would ye rather she told the entire village of the witch Kirk is holding in the stables?”

  “What difference would it make? No matter how many times I tell you the truth, you don’t want to hear it. I am not a witch! I just want to go home!”

  “I know it well, and were it up to me, ye would already be gone. I wish we had never found ye.”

  “That makes two of us.” Her chin jutted forward as she stared up into his unreadable face. He had shaved, she realized, and taken a bath since they saw each other last. His skin was smooth, giving her a good look at the flat plains of his cheeks, the sharp ridge of his jaw and firm line of his neck. She could’ve given herself a paper cut on that jaw of his.

  This was hardly the time for her to get turned on by anyone, including this blockhead who wouldn’t listen to reason.

  “The fact is, ye are not going anywhere. So ye had best learn to get along and behave yourself.”

  “Why should I? Honestly, none of this makes sense in the first place, so why should I follow your rules? I don’t belong here.”

  “That is the truth of it, to be certain.”

  “So? Why should I be nice? Why should I get along with the people who locked me in iron?” She raised her arms a little, shaking the chain around to make her point.

  He leaned in suddenly, surprising her. She backed into a wall made of the same wooden slats as the others. Splinters threatened to work their way under her skin, but she didn’t move away from them. She was too busy being overwhelmed by the sheer size of him, and how quickly he could move for a man of his size. His reflexes were ridiculous.

  “If ye would listen for a moment rather than wagging your tongue, ye might better ken what I am trying to tell ye.” Hazel eyes darted over toward the space beyond the pen, as if expecting to find someone watching or listening. When he spoke again, his voice was barely a whisper. “There are worse things than being in shackles.”

  That didn’t sound good. “Like what?” she challenged, but there was now weakness in her voice, a tremor she didn’t like very much. How was she supposed to pretend to be a hard ass when her voice shook like a little kid’s?

  “Like hanging, for one.” To her surprise and horror, his hand closed around her throat. A great, big hand, one that could have snapped her neck before she had the chance to squeal. “A rope could tighten around his throat of yours, cutting off your air. Breaking your neck would be a mercy compared to choking to death while people watched. But even that would be kindness compared to burning, which is another way we deal with your kind. And ye know it.”

  He snarled, terrifying her to her core. His upper lip curled, his nostrils flared. For a second, she thought this was it. This was how she was really going to die. And maybe she would have to suffer this again and again. Maybe this was her eternal torture.

  Suddenly, his eyes left hers, staring at the hand which he now loosened from her throat and stared at in surprise. It was wet with her tears. There was no holding them back.

  And just like that, he changed. He wasn’t a bully anymore. When he looked at her again, his face fell. “Och, lass. I didna mean it, truly. I was merely trying to frighten ye into telling the truth.”

  Well, he had succeeded in scaring the hell out of her. “But I am telling the truth. I’ve always been telling the truth. I’m not a witch. Not even a little bit.”

  “Explain your markings, then.” He trailed a finger along her bare shoulder, moving down until he touched her elbow. In other circumstances, she might have enjoyed his touch. Now, she wanted to bite off his finger.

  “They’re just tattoos. Totally innocent. Women from my time have them. Not all women, but some women. It’s more common now than it used to be.”

  Whoa. Had she just said that? Women from her time? Like she believed she was really in the past?

  But there was no other way to explain her situation, and she had to accept it. Maybe once she did, she would find a way out of this.

  His brows lowered, eyes darting around over her face. “Your time?”

  Well, he believed there were such a thing as witches. Maybe this bit of truth wouldn’t be too far outside the realm of possibility. “I know how completely crazy this sounds, but you have to believe me. I’m not lying to you. I have
no idea how I got here, and I have no idea how to get home. I feel like I can trust you. You’re the only one so far that I have felt like I could trust.”

  He lowered his brow even further, until his eyes were almost covered. “Dinna speak that way.”

  “What way?” she breathed.

  “Dinna tell me you trust me. Dinna work your way into my mind.”

  “But it’s true! It’s true, I’m not from your time. I’m from the future.”

  Muscles jumped in his jaw as it clenched tight. His nostrils flared again as his breathing grew heavier, faster. “To the devil with ye,” he whispered before charging out of the pen and slamming the door closed.

  “Please! Wait, I swear! I’m telling the truth! You have to help me!” She pressed her face to the wooden slats, staring at him through the open spaces as he locked the door tight. “Kaden, please! I can tell you have more sense than the rest of them, and you’re a good man. Please, help me.”

  When he hesitated, she had hope for a second. Maybe he was listening; maybe he would help. Maybe they would find a way together for her to get home, back to where she belonged. To the concert, to her band, her future. They were waiting for her, and her father, too. Counting on her.

  “It doesn’t make any sense, I know. I still don’t know how it happened. But here I am, and here you are, and I know you’re a good person. Don’t let them hang me. Don’t let them burn me. Please, you’re the only one who can help.”

  He sighed, staring at the floor. There was tension in every line of his impressively large body, right down to the tendons which stood out on his forearms. “I’m afraid no one can help ye now,” he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for her to hear.

  “No! Wait, please!” she begged, but it fell on deaf ears. He left her alone again, and this time there was no holding back tears of despair and rage and confusion.

  What had she ever done to deserve this?

  How was she going to get home? Was there even a way? Or would she be stuck here forever?

  6

  Only once he was alone in his modest home did Kaden allow himself to breathe. To slump against the closed door, his eyes closed, his head spinning.