Highlander's Challenge (10 page)

The clan's safety, the men's training ... the press of his manhood against his sporran. He mentally groaned at his sorry state. Perhaps he should seek out some comfort from a willing lass after all.

Maighread filled his cup to the brim. He took a hefty gulp of ale to cool his ardor and idly noticed the spices she'd added. She was constantly putting herbs and such in everything he ate and drank. Hoping, he assumed, that he would look pleasingly on her, but he didn't care for the flavoring nor her continued attempts to snare him. Setting the drink aside, he picked at his meal. Obviously disgruntled that he hadn't commented on her fare, Maighread sidled closer to him on the bench, her large black eyes peered at him questioningly.

Heaving out a weighty sigh, he asked, "How does Ian?" He hoped for some bit of good news and something to pacify the lass. Much closer and she'd be in his bleedin' lap. She shook her head, her long dark locks scraping against his arm. "Not well, I fear."

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The news took him by surprise as did the pinch in his chest, but he kept his features calm. Though Ian was a good friend, he could not waste his time fretting like a woman over his condition. His energies had to remain focused on the clan and its needs.

"She knows not what she's about," Maighread said, cutting her eyes to the side toward the stranger. "Poor Ian will likely die from her hand. She is no healer, but a bad omen." His brow furrowed deeply, adding to the ache in his head. Looking toward his unwanted guest, he watched her, weighing Maighread's words. Had he brought a viper into his midst? She had a keen talent for stirring his anger, of that there was no doubt, but he'd seen her with Ian. She seemed genuinely concerned over his health, and Elspeth had taken her to heart as well.

"She isna what she seems, Colin," Maighread said, her voice tight with suspicion.

"No woman is," he muttered.

His guest's red-capped head lifted, and she steadily returned his gaze. He saw strength, determination, and vast amounts of courage reflected in the emerald depths. No, he did not believe she was a murderess, yet he could not trust her. The welfare of the clan was at stake.

"Dinnae worry over Ian. He is young and strong," he said, breaking the unusual connection with the woman. He shoved a bit of bread into his mouth. "Elspeth will watch over him. You tend tae the laird. He needs your skills now." 91

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Maighread smiled up at him, and he withheld a frustrated groan. She'd seen his comment in too fair a light, as it seemed to renew her pursuit.

"I will do all I can for your da, Colin. He is like my own." She rested her hand on his thigh beneath the table then ran her tongue over her full lips.

It was all he could do not to roll his eyes at her blatant invitation. Although beautiful, she had never held any appeal for him. He'd explained time and again that he would not wed her nor bed her, but she persisted.

He ruefully recalled the day she appeared on the steps of Arreyder Castle. A more bedraggled waif he'd never seen in his life. But there had always been something about her that ate at him. To this day he felt wary around the woman. More than likely due to the stories surrounding her mother. His own father swore she was a witch, that she'd cast a spell over his cousin to lure him to her bed. The bed in which he'd died. Some say of an illness, other's say it was murder. His father was more than pleased when Maighread informed him of the old crone's death. Yet, regardless of his dislike for her mother, he'd welcomed Maighread into his home, and the infernal woman had been Colin's shadow ever since.

Removing her cool fingers from his leg before she saw fit to explore beneath his kilt, he said, "I have things tae tend tae."

He left the hall. His determined stride took him to the room where his father lay quietly sleeping. Although he sorely missed his counsel, Colin refused to disturb his da's peace. 92

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Nor would the old man be able to aid him in his current state of mind.

Elspeth appeared at his side, a worried frown on her face.

"You didna eat much. Are you not well, Colin?" He turned and studied her closely. "Da didna summon me tae wed Aileen." It was a statement, not a question.

"Nay. 'Tis I who wrote the letter, bidding you tae come home and do your duty."

Nodding, he moved to the far window and peered up at the stars. "Another vision. I should have known." When his aunt saw something, she could not let it be. She felt duty bound to act, and often against his father's advice. Colin looked over his shoulder. "Did Da know of your vision?"

She wrung her hands together, her gaze darting about the room. "Aye. He knew." Moving toward the hearth, she grasped the back of a chair firmly and lifted her head. "He didna want me tae summon you. He said I was a worrying auld woman."

"What did you see? I'll have all of it. Now." He didn't hold much trust in his aunt's visions, although they often came true. He preferred not to think that things were destined to be, were out of his control, but he would be a fool not to hear the tale.

Her shoulders sagged as she exhaled deeply. "I canna see it all clearly. A wedding, of that I'm sure, but I dinnae know for certain if 'tis Aileen. I only assumed 'twas her because of your father's wishes. But there is treachery and a fierce battle of which I canna see the outcome. 'Twas the reason Douglas 93

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ordered me not tae summon you. He feared for your life and the future of the clan."

She turned to gaze upon his father. "But you are our only hope now. 'Tis glad, I am, that I sent for you against his wishes."

"Aye. I'm glad as well."

Although he'd known what his future would hold most of his life, he always felt in command. He believed that his decisions and duty would lead him there, not some vision by a sweet old woman, and yet, she'd been in the right to summon him, for was likely he would have received her second missive too late.

"Goodnight, Aunt." He quietly left the room, feeling his future, the one he'd expected and planned for his entire life, dissolve amid the mist hanging over the loch. 94

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Tuck looked in on Ian one last time after putting on her nearly dry clothes. She performed a quick check of his shoulder to be sure before she left. It looked no different, a relief considering the lack of medical supplies. He was strong, and he had Elspeth to take care of him. He would recover in time.

Opening the window as quietly as possible, she stuck her head out into the cold night air. A few guards walked the battlements, and at least one stood by the gate. It wouldn't be easy getting past them, but she had to try. She glanced back at Ian, and whispered, "Thanks for everything, Romeo." And she meant that sincerely, although, when he woke up with a roaring hangover, courting her would be the furthest thing from his mind.

Climbing onto the windowsill, Tuck took a deep breath. She popped a Gummy into her mouth then lunged for the vine. The large glossy leaves helped to cover her descent and provided just the sort of toeholds she needed. Close to the ground, she jumped, rolling as she hit to ease the impact. Using the shadows as cover, she made her way across the bailey then climbed the stairs to the outer wall, hoping she could scale the other side without killing herself. Stealthily, she crept up behind one of the guards, knocked him out then dragged him back into the stairwell. She checked to make sure the area was clear before easing over the edge at what she hoped was the lowest point on the wall. 95

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She'd done her share of free climbing, but on much rougher surfaces. The blasted wall was nearly smooth.

"Where's a good vine when you really need it?" she whispered.

She eased over the edge and began her descent. Halfway down she lost her footing and fell a good ten feet. Cursing beneath her breath, she checked herself for damage. Thankfully, a sprained wrist seemed to be her only injury, but she could've broken her leg. Having a bone set was not fun. She'd had that delightful experience before, and she didn't want to imagine it without major painkillers. Well, at least her wrist wouldn't keep her from hiking to the clearing. Jumping to her feet, she hurried toward the woods before the guard woke up or was found. She made her way east, avoiding the rutted road, with particular care. She didn't relish the idea of running into any MacKenzies. Not after her close call with a claymore. They wouldn't be so easy to beat by herself, especially with only one good hand. If only she had her gun, she'd feel like the odds were more in her favor.

"No sense wishing for the impossible. But then I'm living the impossible," she grumbled as she retrieved her knife from her calf. The cord-wrapped handle fit her palm perfectly, giving her a small sense of comfort.

Moving deeper into the woods, the cold crisp scent of the forest teased her nose, and she took a deep cleansing breath. It was so similar to the one in her time, she could barely tell the difference. Tuck had noticed the day she and Jenny stepped off the boat that the pollution and bustle of the modern world had barely touched the isle. At least some 96

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things hadn't changed over the centuries. She remembered how odd she'd felt when she'd drove off the ferry. How the island had called to her, touched her in some way. Strange, how it was even stronger here in this century. Shaking off the weird thoughts, she trudged forward. All this time travel stuff was making her batty. She needed to get back to her own time and find Jenny. Imagining the island was some magical place calling to her like a siren was beyond absurd. She had a career in the twenty-first century, and it had nothing to do with quaint little Scottish isles or overbearing Highlanders with lion eyes that made her want to do things she'd never wanted to do before. She scowled as she moved swiftly between the trees. The big overgrown ape was not on her agenda. "No way, no how," she grumbled.

Nearly an hour later, she sank to the ground against a large tree trunk, the weight of failure too heavy to bear any longer. She tilted her knife so that the compass caught the moonlight. With a disgusted nod, she rested it in her lap. She'd found the right clearing, but nothing happened. She laid her head back against the trunk and considered devouring her entire stash of Gummy Bears. Her wrist ached, her ribs hurt, her fingertips burned from her climb on the wall, and she was bone tired.

What now? The field had been her best shot. She thought if she found the exact spot where she'd appeared there would be some sort of portal for her to step through. Then poof, she'd be zapped back to Jenny. It was the only idea she could 97

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come up with. Clicking her heels three times and wishing she were home didn't sound like much of a plan. Her only other option was to recreate everything that had happened just before she found herself in the field. But having someone knock her upside the head didn't hold much appeal. She hurt in enough places as it was.

"Jenny said something about a stream," she whispered. She shook her head at the lunacy of it all. What was she thinking? She wasn't a water sprite, for crying out loud. She was a soldier, lost in time, with little idea as to how to get home.

The night sounds grew around her as she rested, reminding her of other cold nights spent among the bushes, and hating every minute of it. And dang it, she was freezing her butt off. She fumed, cursing herself for taking the assignment in the first place. Somehow she'd let that loony scientist get to her. Jenny had seeded her mind with all sorts of fairytales, surely the catalyst to this insane trip. A sardonic grin slipped over her mouth. Shame Jenny hadn't fallen into that stupid fountain with her. At least then she'd know whom her client needed protection from. Ian and his wooing. If that sixteenth century womanizer so much as grinned at Jenny, she'd have been down for the count. A twig snapped, stiffening every muscle in her body. Thoughts of Jenny were quickly relegated to the back of her mind. She listened as blood pumped faster through her veins, but all was still. Her heart pounding in her chest was the only sound she heard. Even the creatures of the forest had fallen 98

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silent. Something wasn't right. Focusing on her surroundings, she cataloged every shadow.

There. Alongside a fallen tree, several yards away, was something that didn't belong. It was a man, of that she was certain from the outline of his body against the faint shafts of moonlight, but was he a MacLean or a MacKenzie? She waited for him to make a move, something to give away his reason for being there.

As the night sounds slowly returned, she took careful note of each one, mentally identifying their source. All belonged in the forest except for her and the unknown man. Waiting, she nibbled a few Gummies until another man joined him. After a discussion she could barely hear nor understand, they started to move. Crouching down along the undergrowth, they headed west.

To investigate or not to investigate?

Elspeth's sweet smile popped into her head. She had to follow them. MacLean may not want her help, but she wasn't going to stand by and do nothing. A soft chuckle tickled her throat. Want her help? Hell, he didn't need her help. She remembered, all too well, the sight of him battling the ambushers. His skill with a claymore was far better than any she had ever seen. She wondered if he was as adept with a knife.

Expert swordsman or no, she couldn't risk any of the MacLean clan getting hurt if she could stop it. Her trip back to Jenny would have to wait, as if she had a choice since she was clueless as to how to get back in the first place. 99

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Stretching out her legs, getting the blood circulating again, she paralleled the men's progress, her knife clutched in her hand. She needed to be ready for anything. In the distance, she detected the soft squeak of leather and the faint jangle of harness. Almost imperceptible, but there nonetheless. Whoever these new players were, they were making their way through the woods as stealthily as possible on horseback.