Outlaw Highlander: A Scottish Time Travel Romance Page 9

  The castle came into view in the early afternoon. Tavish had brought them up a craggy outcrop of rock that circled the side of a mountain. There had been few signs of life since they’d set off that morning.

  His fear about being caught had subsided once they’d left the main track and made their way through short grass to the loch that marked the first natural defense of MacIntyre Castle. Skirting that brought them closer.

  He’d not been this near since the last war and that had been a long time ago, a year before his exile. He’d barely been a boy when he’d seen his first real battle. So much death. So many screams.

  The higher they climbed, the more thoughts fell away until he was back in the role he knew well, scouting an entrenched enemy position.

  “There,” he said, laying down and crawling forward until he could peer over the far side of the ridge.

  Halfway down the other side, the mountain had suffered a rockfall eons ago. Whatever had caused it had scoured the side of the cliff, gouging a line down to the valley floor. The fallen rubble had been used to build the castle that sat hidden in the valley.

  When he’d first studied the other clans, he’d thought only a fool would build a castle in a valley compared to a hilltop. They couldn’t tell if an army were approaching until it would be too late.

  He’d soon learned that, like so many things in life, it wasn’t quite that simple. There was only one entrance to the valley and that was heavily guarded. No army on horseback could get up or down the sheer cliffs of the surrounding mountains.

  That combined with a few well-placed scouts by beacons overlooking the surrounding Highlands was enough to ensure MacIntyre Castle was the only one he knew that had never been successfully besieged.

  He’d been part of the army that had tried, desperately fighting to retrieve the sacred stone of the Sinclair Clan.

  “Have you been here before?” Lindsey asked, lying next to him and peering down at the dark stone of the castle.

  “Aye, and watched many good men go into that bottleneck in the canyon down there. We didn’t get within a quarter of a mile of the place. Arrows rained down from there and there. It was a slaughter.”

  “Great. So how do I get in?”

  “You’re not an army. You sneak in up the garderobe.”

  “Garderobe? You mean the toilet?”

  “I dinnae ken that word.”

  “Never mind. How do I get in a castle through a garderobe?”

  “The drop from them tae the gong scourers heap is never guarded. You go in the way the waste goes out.”

  “You’re serious?” She looked scared, glancing from him to the castle and back again.

  He crawled back from the edge, beckoning for her to follow. Once the castle was out of sight he sat up.

  “Ah will distract the guards overlooking the rear of the castle. Ye get to the chute at the far corner and get up inside.”

  “Then what?”

  “Then you make your way to the chapel. It shouldnae be hard to find. If ah ken the MacIntyres, they’ll have the stone in there somewhere. Wi’ any luck, you’ll no encounter any trouble. Get the stone and come back out the way ye went in. Ye ken?”

  “I think so,” she said.

  “What is it? Something troubles ye. Are ye too scared?”

  “No, it’s not that.”

  “What is it then?”

  She sighed, looking up at the sky while picking at the bobbles forming on her cloak. “It’s just my mom. What if I get killed? She’ll never know what happened to me. She’ll think I just walked out on her for no reason.”

  “She’ll have the locket.”

  “How will she know where it is if I don’t survive to go back and tell her?”

  “Ah’ll find a way tae get a message tae her.”

  “How?”

  “I dinnae ken but I’ll figure it out while you’re in the castle. But dinnae worry, lass. You willnae get killed.”

  “How do you know that? They might shoot an arrow through my heart and mom might never see me again.” She was shifting in place, still not looking at him.

  He put a finger to her cheek, turning her face gently until she was facing him, her body finally becoming still.

  “You will survive,” he said, staring deep into her eyes. “You came back seven hundred years for a reason and if this isnae it then I dinnae ken what else it might be. An hour’s time we will be heading south with all this behind us.”

  “But-”

  He pressed a finger to her lips. “Dinnae talk no more.” He couldn’t resist leaning closer. His head had been filled with thoughts of taking her back home, giving up on this fool’s errand. With his face an inch from hers those thoughts fell away and all he could do was think how soft her lips looked.

  He could smell her body, the sweetness and purity he’d long forgotten existed. He felt her breathing, fast at first but then slowing. Her eyes closed as if she knew what he was going to do before he did.

  “Ye will live,” he said. Then he kissed her.

  There was not a single sound to be heard anywhere around them. The world no longer existed. For the briefest of moments, everything felt perfect. Then she pulled away from him.

  She returned to the vantage point and again looked down at the castle. He joined her, saying nothing.

  “If I die,” she said, not looking at him, “find a way to tell her what happened to me.”

  “I will,” he replied.

  She was on her feet a second later. “Better get that diversion ready. If I wait any longer, I won’t be able to do it.”

  Her hands were shaking as she slowly began to climb down the rocky escarpment toward the castle.

  There wasn’t time to think about the kiss. She was already moving faster than he’d anticipated.

  He crouched low and ran toward the guard post about a quarter of a mile to his left. As he approached it, he calculated his odds.

  One guard asleep slumped against the side of the beacon. His torch was lit ready to fire up the warning to the clan but it was about ten feet from him, wedged between two tall rocks, the flames flickering in the breeze.

  The other guard was looking down into the valley. Had he spotted Lindsey?

  Without stopping to think Tavish crossed the space to the outpost, leaping over the sleeping guard and landing silently behind the other one who was staring at Lindsey. Tavish had seconds to act.

  He got his arms around the throat of the guard, catching him before he could say a word to his companion. Squeezing his arms, he was rewarded by the gasping breaths of the man who fought ineffectually to free himself from the vice-like grip of his attacker.

  Tavish didn’t let go for a second as they fell back, the guard slumping to his knees then finally onto his face.

  He was unconscious, not dead. Tavish had no wish for bloodshed unless absolutely necessary, not even with a MacIntyre. The sleeping guard still had not stirred.

  Tavish moved to the torch, grabbing it and tossing it away, making sure the beacon could not be lit any time soon. When that was done he edged toward the prone figure on the woolen blanket, kneeling beside him and whistling loudly.

  The guard stirred and as he began to sit up, Tavish got him around the neck, staring into the furious eyes of a much stronger man than the first.

  He was forced back, the guard reaching for his sword. Tavish stretched out an arm and got to it first, tossing it down the mountainside.

  The two of them stumbled into the iron cradle that held the beacon, kindling and dust falling into his face as they rolled sideways, coming ever closer to the edge of the ridge. He found himself on the rim a moment later, looking down at a fall of at least fifty feet.

  “You’re dead,” the guard snarled, pushing him further over, trying to use brute force to send him to his doom.

  Tavish glanced down, seeing Lindsey looking back up at him from far away. Seeing the look in her eyes gave him strength and with a grunt and a monumental heave of his arms, he mana
ged to shove the guard away.

  The guard leaned down and scooped up his sword. Tavish went for his own and a second later the two blades crashed together. The guard was fast, jabbing continually, pushing Tavish back once again toward the edge of the ridge.

  He felt his feet slipping from him, stones clattering down over the rim and disappearing down the mountainside. The guard let out a laugh.

  “You’re Tavish Sinclair,” he said, jabbing once again as Tavish visibly sagged in place, almost tumbling and barely managing to keep his balance. “They said you were the best fighter in the Highlands. You’re nothing but a washed-up murderer.”

  “Aye,” replied Tavish. “But I’m something else as well.”

  “What’s that?” the guard asked, pushing forward with the final lunge that would send Tavish to his death.

  “Quick on my feet.” Tavish leaped to the side, flicking his sword into the hilt of his opponent’s, flinging it loose from his grip and sending it clattering down into the abyss. The guard almost fell after it but Tavish caught him at the last second, getting his hands around the man’s throat and choking him into unconsciousness in seconds.

  He tugged the sagging figure back from the edge, laying him by his companion before pausing to wipe the sweat from his brow. Looking down at the castle he could no longer see Lindsey. All he could do was wait to see if she emerged.

  It was the longest wait of his life. The guards were bound and gagged with their own tartans. He’d deliberately used loose knots. They’d get themselves free in a couple of hours but by then he’d be long gone with the stone.

  Crouching at the spot where she’d headed down, he craned his neck in the hope of seeing her. He couldn’t help but think about the kiss.

  It had been a foolish thing to do and he had learned his lesson. He would not attempt such a thing again. He did not even know why he’d done it.

  He couldn’t ask her. To do so would embarrass them both. She would try not to hurt his feelings but the fact of the matter was clear. No matter if she felt true love for him, she still had to get back to her own time where she belonged.

  He should try and erase the kiss from his memory, pretend it never happened. She’d probably already erased it, he just needed to do the same.

  That was easier said than done when he had gained the knowledge of just how soft her lips were.

  An hour passed and in that time he decided he would never mention the kiss, nor his growing feelings for her. It would only cause pain for him and embarrassment for her to do so. She was going home and that was clearly what mattered to her, not the feelings of a banished member of a failing clan.

  He lay perfectly still, praying for her safety, asking the Lord for His help in bringing her back to him. His desire for the stone had gone. All he wanted was for her to get out of there alive. If she died it would be his fault. He had sent her into the lion’s den with no protection.

  Fear rose up in him that she had already been caught. Another hour rolled by and he tried to prepare himself for the worst. She wasn’t coming out.

  She’d probably gone in there and told them where he was, told them who he was. Any minute the castle gates would open and an army would come out to collect him for execution.

  The castle gates rolled open and he winced. There was no point running. They knew this land far better than him and there was nowhere to hide this high up. Someone was down there, a figure emerging from the castle. It was her. She was waving, beckoning him to come down and join her.

  11

  Lindsey couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss as she clambered down the side of the mountain toward the castle, doing her best to concentrate on what she was about to do.

  Her lips continued to tingle, making it impossible for her to forget what had just happened. It had come from nowhere.

  She never thought in her wildest dreams that Tavish had any intention of kissing her. Whenever he seemed to warm to her, he closed down again and she’d given up trying to understand why. Then, out of nowhere, he just did it.

  She’d heard that kisses could be more than just kisses. She didn’t believe it until it had happened to her. She’d only been kissed once and that was Bobby Tucker doing it for a bet when she was fourteen and the only girl in school with braces.

  Nothing in her life had led her to believe that a kiss could send her stomach cartwheeling up to bump into her heart which was thudding hard enough to burst out of her chest. Her whole body trembled the moment their lips pressed together and she had to fight like she was escaping quicksand to end it.

  It had to stop. She knew that. But it was like trying to just have one piece of chocolate and wrapping up the rest of the bar. She knew perfectly well that kissing him was a bad idea. One kiss and she wanted much more.

  Pulling away from that kiss was the hardest thing she’d ever had to do in her life, but she had no choice. If he was going back to his clan and she was going back to her mom, they couldn’t go any further down that dangerous road.

  At the end was love and she wasn’t ever going to go there. It would only end in pain when she had to say goodbye. Far better to let that one kiss linger in her memory. She was going home. She must not fall for him.

  The way he switched back to talking about their plan proved he wasn’t that bothered anyway. She made her way down from the ridge telling herself to ignore how she felt, to ignore the fireworks that had gone off when their lips touched, to focus on what mattered. Getting the sacred stone and then getting home.

  When she heard fighting above her, she looked up, seeing him on the verge of falling to his death. A moment later he had the upper hand and the man he was fighting was falling from view.

  She turned away. That was who he was. He wasn’t a soft and gentle man. He was a Highland brute like the rest of them. She had promised to get the stone and she would, but she would not fall for someone like that. No way.

  She found the garderobe entrance just where he’d said it would be. No one was looking down from the battlements. She was able to examine the hole in detail. It was surrounded by filth, the stench enough to make her retch several times while she tried to build up the courage to climb inside.

  Glancing around her, she saw a clump of straggly trees beside a fisherman’s hut. At once, she thought of Tavish, of how they’d first met.

  Stop it, she told herself. It was not the time for reminiscing. Linen had been draped over the branches of the trees to dry. She glanced around her to see if anyone was looking before grabbing the nearest length. Wrapping it around her, she returned to the castle looking like an Egyptian mummy.

  “You can do this,” she whispered, taking a deep breath before ducking down and pushing her way into the hole in the stone. The smell was far stronger inside and she had to fight for breath as she squeezed her way up the narrow chute, the linen soon soaked through with filth.

  After a few feet of climbing, the walls became smoother and she found herself sliding back down. Only by digging her elbows into the stone could she arrest her descent.

  Pausing to catch her breath she looked up and down. Eight or so feet from the ground. Another twenty at least left to climb.

  Pushing her feet against the far wall, she was able to clamber again, steadily making progress, the hole above her growing closer. She had no idea how long it took.

  Several times she slid back until for each foot of progress, she was falling back six inches. Finally, her lungs burning and her limbs on fire from the effort, she got her arms to the hole that opened out into the garderobe chamber high up in the castle.

  Using the last of her strength, she yanked herself out, falling in an exhausted heap to the floor, panting for breath.

  As soon as she could move again, she unpeeled the length of linen from around her body, tossing it back down the garderobe chute with a grimace. A second later she cursed herself. She’d have to climb back down without its protection.

  It was too late to worry about that. She needed to move before she was s
potted. The garderobe had two right angles to it, keeping it shielded from the main chamber beyond.

  She edged along, peering through a thick curtain into a solar. There was no one in view but she had to stop for a moment to take in the beauty of the sight before her.

  She’d been in many medieval castles in her time but they were recreations of how they might have looked. This one was real and it was stunning. The walls were whitewashed and covered in intricate tapestries depicting battle scenes.

  The floor was covered with sheepskin rugs, the fireplace dark wood and carved with animals, both real and imagined. Whoever had carved it had done an excellent job.

  She crossed the floor to it, able to envision the craftsman chipping away until the lamb being chased by the fox looked so real it might flick its tail toward her at any moment.

  From the window, she could hear noise. She darted across to glance out. There was plenty of life down there and again she had to pause to admire it. She was seeing something no one from her time would ever get a chance to see.

  The sound of hammering came from a forge in the corner, a blacksmith at work on a sword, surrounded by billowing smoke. Further on a group of women in dresses of vivid green were at work on small looms. Dogs ran about, children darted to and fro. Tartan-clad men marched back and forth. The place was a buzz of activity.

  There was the chapel, not far from where she was. How to get to it? The answer came at once. All she had to do was look busy. There were so many people there, who would spot one more?

  Turning away from the window she headed downstairs, pushing open the door at the bottom and stepping out into the courtyard.

  She kept her hood up, hoping no one would notice one more figure. Those who saw her gave her a wide berth, the smell of the garderobe lingering upon her.

  She tried to keep calm and walk normally but her limbs seemed to have other ideas.

  “Just relax,” she muttered, concentrating on slowing her breathing, trying not to stand out at all.

  She kept her eyes fixed in front of her, not stopping as she weaved between the people before reaching the chapel. She ducked inside, pushing the door closed behind her before letting out a sigh of relief.