Swept By The Highlander: A Scottish Time Travel Romance-Highlander Forever Book 3

by Preston, Rebecca

  “You shouldn’t treat yourself so badly,” she scolded him. “What if one of your men was constantly turning up to work without having rested enough?”

  “Then I’d tell him off,” Brendan said simply. “But it’s not one of my men, it’s me, so… double standard, I guess. You’re right, of course, you’re entirely right, I’m an idiot. Have breakfast with me?”

  God, he was just entirely too charming, that was his problem. She raised an eyebrow at him, trying to seem aloof and hostile — then caved in almost immediately at the wistful look on his face. He grinned in triumph and took her arm in his, leading her into the breakfast hall, and she fell into step with him, ignoring the way her arm tingled where he was touching it. She felt dizzy.

  That was strange. She felt — dizzy. Not just the usual giddiness she felt when she spoke to Brendan. Frowning a little, she served herself a bowl of porridge then leaned against a table, waiting for the dizziness to pass. Brendan was at her side, looking concerned, a heaping bowl of porridge in his hands, too.

  “Elena? Are you alright?”

  “Just feeling a bit off this morning,” she said, shrugging. “Can we sit here?”

  “Of course,” he said, drawing the bench out so that she could take a seat. They sat close, his worried eyes on her, and she picked her way through the porridge, hoping it would restore her strength… to no avail. The dizziness was still there, and now, as she filled her stomach with food, she realized that nausea was quickly joining it.

  “What’s happening, Elena? Tell me how you’re feeling.” He sounded very worried — almost too worried, for what was happening. It made her worry, too. She frowned up at him, and he relented a little, raising his hands. “Just concerned about you, that’s all. I’ll back off.”

  “It’s okay,” she relented, sighing. “It’s — I feel dizzy and a bit sick. My appetite’s gone, I…” She took a deep breath. “Damnit. I better not be getting sick.”

  “Your appetite?” His eyes were fixed on hers. “You’ve lost your appetite?”

  “Yeah, I think so, I just… the porridge is turning my stomach. Maybe it’s nothing,” she added gamely. “Maybe I just need to drink some more water, I get dehydrated sometimes…” But the dizziness she was feeling wasn’t dehydration — she knew what that felt like. This felt a lot more like a stomach flu, or food poisoning… but nobody else in the castle was sick, were they? “Didn’t Anna and Nancy say they both got sick when they got here?”

  Brendan breathed out, as though a gust of relief had blown through him. “They did. Of course. That’s probably what it is.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. There was something strange about the way he was acting — something off that she couldn’t quite put her finger on but was going to bother her nonetheless until she figured it out.

  “From what I remember, Anna was sick for a few days, Nancy a whole week… I don’t remember their symptoms, though.”

  “Maybe I just need some fresh air,” Elena said hopefully, getting to her feet — but then a rush of stars crowded her vision and she gasped, clutching at the side of the table as her legs threatened to give way beneath her. Suddenly, Brendan was at her side, his arm around her, holding her up… embarrassed by her weakness, but not entirely unhappy to be held so close to him, Elena allowed herself to lean a little against him, wishing she felt less awful so she could appreciate the contact.

  “Back up to bed, I reckon,” he murmured to her, his voice rough against her ear.

  She was so disoriented she only barely restrained herself from making a very inappropriate response to that. Instead, she just nodded, taking a few steps — but then the dizziness lurched up at her again and she staggered.

  And then, as if she weighed nothing at all, she felt Brendan scoop her off the ground. She yelped a little, unused to being held like this, tensing up as she readied herself to be dropped or thrown — that had always been the net result of her brothers picking her up off the ground, back when she was small enough to do that (and before she’d learned how to fight them off.) But no — Brendan simply held her against him, and after a moment she relaxed, surprised by how comfortable she was in his arms. She could feel his heart pounding through his chest, feel the strong muscles of his arms against her, the warmth of his body… and her own heartbeat was fluttering wildly from more than just the dizziness and the waves of nausea. Damnit, why did she have to be so unwell? This would be a memory to treasure if she could just pay attention to it properly…

  “Is this okay?” he murmured to her, shifting her weight in his arms. “I don’t want you to have to climb those stairs…”

  “It’s fine,” she murmured. “I mean, I’m a bit embarrassed that I can’t walk all of a sudden, but… thank you.”

  He rumbled laughter and carried her out of the dining hall, drawing a few curious looks from the people of the castle as he did. That might be the subject of a bit of gossip later, she thought to herself with a rueful grin — but then she reached up to touch her forehead, realizing she was clammy with sweat. She probably looked like hell, she realized with dismay — people would definitely realize what was going on. Especially with Anna and Nancy having fallen sick in their first few weeks here. Damnit… she’d been so hoping she wouldn’t fall sick. There were so many more interesting things to do…

  She was worried about how he was going to navigate the spiral stairs, but he managed it effortlessly, and it wasn’t too long before they were sailing along the hallway to her little bedroom. Her treacherous mind would not stop spinning very different scenarios that might lead to Brendan carrying her to bed, and she tried to fight them off, a little embarrassed at the effect his closeness was having on her. God, he even smelled good… how was that fair? She could close her eyes against his handsomeness, block her ears against the pleasant rumble of his voice and the sweet things he said, but there was absolutely no escaping the way he smelled. What was she supposed to do, stop breathing?

  Carefully, he lay her down in her bed, pausing to stroke her hair away from her forehead in a surprisingly tender gesture that caught her by surprise. She peered up at him for a long moment, caught an unreadable expression on his face — and her heart had just started to accelerate in the silence when he turned away, clearing his throat sharply as he poured her a glass of water from the jug that stood on her nightstand.

  “I don’t know much about sickness, but I know you should keep drinking,” he said, pressing the glass into her hand.

  She sipped at it obediently, her eyes still on his face, not quite trusting herself to speak after the moment they’d just shared.

  “And try to get some rest. I’m going to go and find Anna and Nancy to tell them you’re unwell, they might have some advice for getting over whatever this is, if they both went through it. And I’ll tell Maeve, too. She’s our best healer.” He smiled, reaching out to touch her again — but this time it was a much less intimate squeeze of her hand on the bed. “You’ll be alright,” he said emphatically.

  She watched him go, a little confused. She knew she’d be alright — it was just a bug, right? Why was he being so strangely intense about it?

  Maeve came by an hour later with a fresh jug of water and a bowl of broth. She pressed one cool hand to Elena’s forehead, proclaiming with satisfaction that she at least didn’t have a fever, then tucked her into bed and adjusted her pillows until she was feeling as comfortable as could be expected, in the circumstances.

  “Our young Brendan was rather concerned,” she said as she fussed with the pillow, her voice deliberately casual. “Your illness seems to loom rather large on his list of priorities.”

  “He did seem more worried than he needed to,” she said, frowning. “It’s just a stomach bug, right?”

  “Ah, well, when it’s someone you care about, little things loom large,” Maeve said, that sing-song quality still in her voice as she flashed Elena a sly smile. “But we’ll talk about that when you’re mended, I think. Now — this is broth,” she sai
d, switching to a businesslike manner before Elena could question what she’d meant by what she’d said about Brendan. “If you felt sick to your stomach after a few spoonsful of porridge, you’re likely not to have much of an appetite, but the broth will ease your stomach and keep you strong while you fight off the sickness. Alright?”

  “Alright,” she said obediently, taking the bowl and giving it a cautious sniff. It smelled okay — her stomach didn’t immediately revolt at the prospect, and she took a sip. Her body wasn’t thrilled about it, but it would accept it. “Thank you, Maeve.”

  “Of course, my dear. Now, you get as much rest as you can. I’ll be bringing you food at each mealtime, but if you can’t stomach it, then just broth is just fine, you hear?” The silver-eyed woman smiled, blowing her a kiss from the doorway. “You get some sleep, dear heart. You’ll be right as rain in a few days.”

  Chapter 18

  But unfortunately, the stomach bug was a lot worse than Maeve — or Elena, for that matter — had given it credit for. She woke up shivering later that day, utterly miserable, rolled to the side of the bed and found to her great relief that there was what must have been a chamber pot stored under the bed. Within minutes, she’d thrown up what felt like everything she’d ever eaten straight into it, and lay shivering and wretched on the bed, her head hovering over the edge. Still, an empty stomach felt a little better — though it twinged with pain and upset, at least the overwhelming urge to throw up had abated. She rinsed her mouth out with a sip of water that she then spat into the chamber pot as well and settled back into the bed, feeling miserable and hard done by and wishing very much that she could be back home in her own bed for a few minutes.

  Maeve came by as promised around lunchtime, a small covered bowl of stew in her hands, and her soft sound of dismay pulled Elena from a troubled sleep. She peered up at her sadly, feeling a little embarrassed about the mess she’d made, but Maeve simply summoned a passing servant to fetch a clean chamber pot and take the soiled one away. With the smell of vomit gone from the room, she felt a little better. Maeve coaxed her into sipping a little broth, but the prospect of the stew was impossible — just smelling it turned her stomach, and without a word Maeve rose to her feet and placed it outside the room.

  “Poor dear,” she murmured, stroking her hair back from her cheek again and again. “Poor, poor dear. You’ll be well again soon, I promise.”

  But she wasn’t well again soon — not soon enough, at any rate. The day continued miserably on, with Elena drifting in and out of a half-sleep, shivering and tragic in the embrace of the bedsheets. She couldn’t eat, could barely sip at the broth that Maeve kept gently insisting she try to drink — she came to resent the clear liquid, even though she knew on some level it was keeping her strong, making her feel a little better, even.

  And god, it was boring being sick. After the first day, she was about tapped out on the amount of sleeping she could do — and it wasn’t like she could just turn the television on, now was it? There wasn’t going to be television for another few hundred years… she was stuck with books, which were too hard to focus on. God, she missed television. The soothing, mindless hum of it… she cried a few tears, overwhelmed by how miserable and dejected she felt, then felt completely absurd for crying over something as stupid as television. Get a grip, Elena, she told herself dejectedly. You should be better than this, shouldn’t you? Aren’t you Baltimore’s toughest cop?

  There is no Baltimore, she thought miserably, and there are no cops. Only guards… and she wasn’t allowed to be a guard.

  People came to visit, at least. Those were usually bright spots in her miserable days. Anna and Nancy came the first day, moving quietly, making dismayed sounds when they saw how unwell she looked. Nancy hovered at a bit of a distance, clearly worried about catching the disease, and Elena waved her apologies away.

  “Of course. You don’t want this, not with the baby coming,” she croaked.

  “Yeah, sorry, darling, the morning sickness is bad enough, I just can’t risk it.”

  “You probably won’t catch it,” Anna told her, stroking Elena’s hair. “Remember when you got sick? Nobody caught it because it’s a bug everyone who lives here is immune to. Mine was more like a flu,” she told her, smiling. “It was pretty nasty. Old Maggie had to come and bring me some wraps to chase it out of my chest… that was what finally made me start believing in magic and the Fae.”

  “Really?” Elena was surprised despite herself. “It took you that long to come around?”

  “Like I’ve said, I’m a stubborn woman.” She laughed, her pretty face crinkling up. “And besides, when I got here, there was nobody else from the future to talk to. Part of me still thought it was all some stupid joke, or a hallucination, or something. But Maggie was patient, bless her. She saved my life that day, I think.”

  “I wanna meet Maggie,” Elena mumbled, feeling a little childish. “Wanna go to the village. Wanna ride a horse! Nobody will teach me to ride!”

  “I’ll teach you once you’re better, alright, darling?” Anna stroked her cheek, grinning a little. Then a shadow crossed over her face. “We might have to avoid the village for a little while, though. From what I’ve heard from Donal…”

  “What’s going on?” Elena tried to sit up in bed, but the dizziness hit her again, making her grit her teeth angrily. “There’s something happening, hey. Brendan was all weird about it…”

  “They aren’t saying much,” Anna shrugged. She’d clearly been thinking about this herself. “Donal keeps saying it’s the village’s business, not ours. If I wasn’t so busy with Gwynny I’d be very cross with him. But I think the people involved have asked him to be discrete about it. These villagers, they’re strange with their privacy.”

  Elena was intrigued — but a huge yawn stopped her from asking any more questions, and she groaned in annoyance as Anna and Nancy rose to their feet, ready to leave to let her rest. “No, no, sleeping is so boring, please, I’ve been stuck in here alone for three days, you have to stay…”

  “We’ll come back,” Nancy promised. “But you have to sleep. If you don’t sleep, you’ll never get well, and then you’ll be in here forever. So sleep. Alright?”

  “Alright,” Elena mumbled, full of resentment. “But it sucks.”

  Anna couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re worse than Gwyneth. Tell you what. If you’re a good girl and take your nap and drink your broth, we’ll send Brendan to visit.”

  She was too unwell to even react to that particular stab. “Good. Send anyone. Anything’s better than being by myself,” she added wretchedly, trying at least a little to disguise how thrilled she’d been about the idea of seeing Brendan. But once Anna and Nancy had gone, anxiety took the place of her delight. She didn’t want him to see her like this… all miserable and sweaty and sick. She probably looked a fright.. she could feel herself losing weight as the days wore on without her being able to stomach any solid food. She probably looked like a skeleton. He’d be revolted by her. Or worse, he’d catch whatever horrible illness she had and be confined to bed himself… then she wouldn’t get to see him at all.

  She drifted off to sleep midway through these worried thoughts and picked them up when she woke up as though she’d barely put them down. Amazing, how anxiety could spiral out of control when you were too unwell to fight it off. But before she could do anything about it other than take a shaky sip of water, the door creaked open. There stood Brendan, looking worried — but it was so good to see him she couldn’t bring herself to care at all what she looked like.

  “How are you doing, lassie?” he asked, voice low and worried, and she grinned despite herself at the affectionate term. She’d found it strange, the first few times, but it had grown on her rather quickly.

  “Oh, about as well as I look,” she mumbled, gesturing to her face. He peered down at her.

  “So what are you doing in bed, then, if you’re right as rain?”

  She laughed again, already feeling better. �
�You old flatterer. Get out of here.”

  “Maeve has sent more broth,” he said, gesturing down to the covered bowl he held in his hands. “She also said—”

  Elena threw her head back against the pillow and groaned.

  “— that you might react to the news of more broth like that, yes, so I also brought… this.” He revealed a small cloth parcel in his pocket and unwrapped it.

  “What’s that?” she asked, curious. It looked like a pastry — she could make out a brown, crispy surface, and some purple fruit.

  “One of Maeve’s specialties. I thought … well, if you can’t stomach this, you certainly can’t stomach solid food.” He offered it to her, and she took a cautious nibble, focusing hard to see how her stomach felt about it.

  “I’d better not eat too much,” she said reluctantly, taking the broth instead for penance. “It’s delicious, though. Thank you. Now tell me things about the castle so I don’t feel like an insane old aunt, trapped in an attic.”

  “Things about the castle. Well, it’s got four walls, it’s made of rock…”

  “Brendan,” she complained. “My whole life is broth and bedsheets. Entertain me. I’m begging you.”

  “What do you want to know about?” He shrugged. “It’s business as usual out there.”

  “No it isn’t. What’s going on in the village? I heard you and the men have been out there, doing mysterious work, making mysterious visits.” She fixed him with a pleading look. “Tell me what you’re investigating. Maybe I can help. It’d be good to just hear about something that isn’t these four walls.”

  He hesitated. “I’m not meant to talk about it. Guard business.”

  “Please?” She had no idea how deep Brendan’s feelings for her went — as far as she knew, he was just a flirty man. But on the off-chance that he actually was nursing a crush on her that was anything like the one she was nursing on him, she did her level best to use it against him. “I’ll owe you one. I’ll owe you ten.”