Held by the Highlander: A Scottish Time Travel Romance Read online

  “You’ll see.”

  Chapter Ten

  Beth wondered if he could tell she was trembling. It was the morning after Andrew’s return to the castle and the first thing he’d done was send for her to join him in the courtyard.

  She’d found him there on the back of his horse, holding out his hand to lift her up. A moment later she was sitting in front of him and they were riding out, the light of the dawn barely breaking over the horizon.

  She had tried to tell him about the future as they rode, about how she would need to get back there sooner or later and find her mother. He had said nothing in response.

  They turned off the main track about a mile from the castle slowly descending through a ravine, mountain peaks towering over them on both sides. The journey went on for a long time until they were far from the castle, the mountains shifting behind them, new ranges appearing on the horizon.

  She told herself it was just the shade and the breeze making her cold but each time his hand moved on the reins of the horse, his arm brushed her side and her trembling intensified. Could he tell?

  He still hadn’t told her where they were going, only that it was a surprise. He had a slight smile on his face when he said it, a smile that she rarely saw. Most of the time he looked stern, angry even, and she could guess why.

  He had a castle that needed rebuilding and he needed to find the money to pay for it. He had other clans constantly testing his defenses and he had the winter coming. She could imagine his worries. Was there enough food to feed everyone? Could they survive a siege? Would her work on the castle be done in time?

  The ravine finally widened out as they reached the bottom of the slope, turning into a broad expanse of pasture. Sheep grazed on the grass around them as they made their way toward a wide expanse of water.

  “How are we going to cross that?” she asked. “I see no bridge nor boat.”

  “We are not crossing it. We are going to swim in it.”

  “Swim? In that?”

  “Aye. You sound surprised. Can you not swim?”

  “I can swim but it’ll be freezing.”

  “You’ll see.” He turned the horse and they followed the edge of the loch, coming out of the shadow of the mountain into sunlight once more.

  The spot he had chosen was completely hidden from view. Only when they were on top of it did she realize what she was looking at. A tiny stream of water led from the loch to a circular pool of water that was a mere fairy pond, no more than twenty feet from side to side.

  It was surrounded by broad armed trees and through their leaves, the sunlight sparkled on the water. To the far side were tall rocks that looked as if they’d fallen from the mountain many years before. They were covered in moss and between them a rivulet of water trickled down into the pool.

  “What do you think?” Andrew asked, climbing down from the horse and holding a hand out to her.

  “I think it looks beautiful,” she replied, accepting his offer of help.

  As she slid from the horse, he took her by the waist, lifting her down gently to the ground. His hands remained on her for a brief moment before he stepped away, dipping his hand into the water of the pool, sending ripples across the surface. “Doesn’t feel too cold to me.”

  He stood up and undid the tartan baldric across his shoulder, pulling it free and folding it neatly before laying it across a rock. “Coming in?” he asked, diving straight into the pool and disappearing from view.

  Beth winced on his behalf, laughing when his head emerged a moment later. “Isn’t it cold?”

  “See for yourself.”

  “You expect me to jump in just like that?”

  “Or you could sit on that rock and do nothing if you prefer.”

  She looked at him and then at the water. “All right but turn the other way. I don’t want you watching me undress.”

  He nodded before swimming away from her. She glanced around her, suddenly feeling she was being watched from the mountains. She shook the feeling away, untying the barbette under her chin before pulling her hair free from under the filet.

  She slid off her shoes, enjoying the feel of the soft grass under her feet as she lifted the dress up and over her head.

  She stopped for a moment, trying to decide whether to keep the kirtle on. Then she reasoned that her bra and panties were no more revealing than a bikini on the beach. With a shrug and a whispered, “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she pulled the kirtle off and lay it down next to the dress.

  Seeing he’d reached the far end of the pool and was about to turn she ran to jump in, ducking under the water before he caught sight of her body.

  She gasped as the cold hit her but within seconds her body grew used to it. The chattering of her teeth slowed and then stopped.

  “What do you think?” Andrew asked, swimming across to her.

  “It’s wonderful,” she replied, doggy paddling slowly toward him. “Just what I needed.”

  “You’ve been working too hard,” he said. “You need to relax now and then.”

  “Says you. I don’t think I’ve seen you relax once.”

  “I’m doing it now, am I not?”

  “I suppose so.”

  She caught sight of something out the corner of her eye but when she looked behind her, there was only a sheep nuzzling at her kirtle. “Leave that alone,” she shouted.

  Andrew laughed. “What is that you’re wearing?”

  She looked down and blushed as she realized the water was crystal clear, revealing her bra and panties. “My underwear,” she said, turning away. “And I’ll thank you not to look.”

  “What is that thing around your chest?”

  “A bra. You’ve seen bras before, haven’t you?”

  “Only of cloth. Yours looks like nothing I’ve ever known. And you wear the smallest thing between your legs. Is that the fashion for ladies now?”

  “It is where I come from. Now are we swimming or are you still gawping at me?”

  “I dinnae ken why I cannae do both.”

  She splashed water at him, a mock scowl on her face. Inside she could feel herself relaxing, the tension of the day fading away. She knew she should feel more shy but something about being with Andrew made her feel totally at ease.

  She knew with absolute certainty that she was safe by his side, that he would do nothing to hurt her despite his enormous bulk and the hungry way he was suddenly looking at her.

  “What?” she asked. “What is it?”

  He swam over to her, taking hold of her hands and pulling her over to the side of the pool. Leaning back against a low hanging willow branch, he smiled. “I have something I need to tell you.”

  She knew what was coming. He was going to tell her she wasn’t good enough for him, that her days as master mason were over. She winced, ready for the worst.

  “I want you to stay,” he said, his face deadly serious.

  She leaned against the branch next to him, turning to look more closely at him. “What, here in the pool?”

  “Och, dinnae talk daft. I mean in my castle with me for good.”

  “I…I can’t do that.”

  “Jings, woman. Why ever not? Where else would you go?”

  “I’ve told you. I need to get back to my own time. I need to find my mom. She needs me. I’m only staying long enough to get the work on the go.”

  “I thought you’d given up on that nonsense. You know as well as I do that this is your time as much as its mine. There’s no portal to the future in the old hall. There’s nothing but wood and stone there.”

  “Are you calling me a liar?”

  “No,” he said, taking her hand in his. “I think you sincerely believe what you’re saying is true but…” His voice tapered off into nothing.

  “But what?”

  “But even if it’s true, I still want you to stay.”

  “I can’t. Don’t you understand I can’t?”

  “But you’ve done so much for my castle. Don’t you wa
nt to see it finished?”

  “Is that what you care about? The castle?”

  “No, that isnae it at all.”

  She noticed his hand gripping her tighter. He pulled her towards him through the water, his face inches from hers. “What is it then?” she asked, holding her breath as he leaned ever closer.

  “I want you to stay because I want you,” he said, kissing her a second later.

  His lips brushed over hers and he almost moved away but then he pressed more firmly, embracing her with his eyes closed.

  Beth was too shocked to move at first but then the tingling from her lips moved through her body and she knew at once this was right. She could never have described how she knew to anyone but she knew.

  It was a kiss like none she’d ever experienced, bringing her to life, her heart thudding even as she felt more relaxed than she ever had before. She melted into his arms as he threw his hands around her back, drawing her closer.

  She could feel his body against her as their embrace grew stronger. Then all of a sudden he pulled his head away, her lips feeling his absence almost as strongly as they’d felt the kiss. “What?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”

  “Did you hear that?”

  “Hear what?” she asked.

  “Hush,” he whispered, swimming quickly to the far side of the pool. All she could hear were a few rocks rolling down the mountainside far away.

  He stuck his head out, peering into the distance before returning to her, the smile gone from his face as if it had never been there. “We must hide,” he said. “There is a band coming this way.”

  “Hide? Hide where?”

  “Behind the trees. There’s a gap just there. Come, quiet as you can. They’re wearing our tartan but I recognize none of their faces. There is something about this I dinnae like.” He helped her out of the pool and she shivered in the cold as together they squeezed between the thick tree trunks.

  Andrew glanced out before ducking back, his face pale. “I’ve an awful bad feeling about this,” he whispered. “We must just hope they haven’t seen us.”

  “Our clothes,” she hissed but it was too late. From the ravine a voice called out. “Down there.”

  “I must go for my sword,” Andrew said, darting out from between the trees. “Stay hidden no matter what happens.”

  Then he was gone and she was alone.

  Chapter Eleven

  Derek sat in his chamber, his face lit only by the single candle on the table in front of him. A rivulet of wax was running slowly downward from the flickering flame. He watched its progress, his eyes narrowed, his fingers neatly folded under his chin.

  The fire had gone out. He didn’t care. He didn’t notice how cold the room had become. All he wanted to think about was the candle. Nothing else. Not until word came back that it was done.

  He was going to be responsible for a laird’s death. It was a big risk he was taking and he could only pray it would work out.

  He took slow steady breaths, in and out, trying to keep calm. Soon he would need to appear shocked and he wanted it to seem as natural as possible. How best to be surprised?

  “The laird’s been kidnapped? Oh no, how awful.”

  “Dead you say?”

  “I can’t believe it. How?”

  He tried to twist his face into despair, doing his best to make himself cry. No tears came. It wasn’t easy acting shocked when he didn’t know if the plan would work or not.

  He looked at the quill pen laid on the table beside the candle. Such a simple little thing, he thought, picking it up and examining the drop of ink still left at the tip. He could use it to send another letter to his father, only to have it ignored once again. Or he could use the same pen to hire a bunch of mercenaries to kidnap a laird. Many things could be achieved by the sweep of a quill upon parchment.

  It was all Andrew’s fault. Not least because he’d taught Derek to read and write. If he hadn’t, Derek would have been unable to write the letter. The thought was amusing in many ways.

  The letter had gone out a few days earlier to those he’d hired to burn the hall. It made clear that it would be in their interest to be at the clearing near the stone circle twelve miles north-west of MacLeish castle. Derek had ridden out early, hoping that Andrew wouldn’t return before he got back. That would ruin his carefully thought out plans.

  Burning him in the old hall had not worked. How was he to know Rory would call Andrew back to the castle at the last minute?

  This time he hoped things would work out better. The candle began to splutter. Still he did not move. He kept staring and breathing slowly, waiting to hear one way or another.

  The rest of the castle had been too busy working on Beth’s building scheme to notice when he went to the stone circle.

  She was part of the reason he had written the letter in the first place. All the careful attention he had paid to the castle’s flaws ready for the assault and she was merrily fixing them all. That fact had forced his hand before he was ready.

  When Andrew had refused to be inside the old hall to burn to death his first thought was a full frontal assault. He had suggested as much to his father but had been told in no uncertain terms that the truce would not be broken unless they could guarantee an easy victory.

  At first he thought the flaws in the defenses would be enough but then he thought about Andrew’s routine, how he always went swimming after a long ride. That was when he thought just how his father would be able to guarantee the easy victory he wanted.

  Derek met the mercenaries in the clearing. At their front was their leader, Rufus Longshanks, a scarred immensely tall villain who would sell his own grandmother to the Normans if the purse was heavy enough to make it worth his while.

  “You offer me half a pound of silver for this?” he said when Derek arrived, waving his letter back at him. “It’s not enough. You have yet to pay us for the fire. I want a pound.”

  “You would have got a pound if he’d died in the fire like he was supposed to but you didn’t think to check first, did you?”

  “How were we to know he wasn’t in the building? You swore he’d be there. We did everything you asked of us.”

  “I didn’t ask you to burn the houses. Why did you do that?”

  Rufus shrugged. “He showed no sign of coming after us. Why didn’t he chase us so we could kill him out of sight like you said?”

  Derek felt his temper rising but he managed to bite down on it. “I was sure he’d chase the MacLeish tartan into that trap,” he snapped. “That was not my fault.”

  “We sat in that wood waiting for him, swords and rope ready, like you said.”

  “Look, forget about that. How much did you make last year?” he asked, walking over to the altar and lifting himself onto it, sitting facing the men.

  “A quarter of a pound almost. Why?”

  “Because if you’d done your job you’ve have had half a pound by now.”

  “We did our job.”

  “I’m not arguing with you. As it is, I have a chance for you to redeem yourself. Half a pound for one night’s work.”

  “Kidnapping a laird is not easy if he will not come to us. How are we supposed to get into the castle and get him out?”

  “Who said anything about you getting into the castle?”

  “How do we get him then?”

  “Every time he comes back from patrols he goes swimming and I know where. All you have to do is watch and wait and then take him while his guard’s down. There won’t even be a fight unless he’s started swimming with his sword at his hip.”

  Rufus smiled a toothless grin. “Now we’re talking. All he’s done to cut down on outlaws. We can barely make a living anymore. Where does he swim?”

  “We have a deal then?”

  One of the other men stepped forward, his eyes darting from left to right, never still for a moment. “I dinnae trust this one,” he said. “Come, Rufus, let’s away before we are hanged for this treachery.”

 
“I brought no one with me,” Derek replied. “You could kill me now and no one would be any the wiser.”

  “Then let’s do it,” the man said, drawing his sword.

  “Only then you won’t get your half pound of silver.” Derek brushed a piece of dirt from the knee of his hose. “I only pay once the job’s done. Do we have a deal?”

  “Aye,” Rufus replied. “And you better pay up or my sword may have two more notches on the handle by week’s end.

  Derek had cause to remember that conversation as he sat up in the tower. He had to steal from the treasury to make sure he had enough money to pay for it. That worried him more than murder. No one could link him to Andrew’s death but someone might find the silver before he could pay the mercenaries.

  Andrew had to die. Derek had tried to persuade him to unite with the MacLeishes against the English but the stubborn fool would hear nothing of it.

  “Only when they stop stealing from us,” was his reply every time as if life were that black and white. “Until then Duff MacLeish may be your father but he is not my ally.”

  Derek knew life wasn’t black and white. It was all kinds of shades of gray.

  Was he good or bad? He wanted Andrew dead and the clans united so they could defend the highlands against the English. Did that make him good or bad?

  What about hiring the mercenaries to burn the hall while wearing MacLeish tartan? Was that the work of a villain or a cunning hero?

  What about stealing the money to pay them? He had taken the half a pound of silver out of the treasury. That was theft which was bad. But it was to help secure the highlands which was good.

  The silver would pay the mercenaries. The mercenaries would kill Andrew. With him out of the picture, Derek would send for his father to take over MacIntyre castle.

  The clans would unite. He would finally get the acclaim he deserved and best of all, no one important would get hurt. Except the Normans who when they finally attacked would be sent back to England with arrows sticking out of their arses. Surely that made him a hero even if he had to get his hands a bit dirty to get it all done.