Highlander’s Curse (21 page)

I
t was the stick prodding at his chest that awoke him. A stick wielded by an oddly costumed young woman.

“You alive?” Another poke accompanied her heavily accented words.

“Of course I’m alive, you silly twit.” Flynn slapped away the offending implement to roll to his side and push himself up to sit. “I’m fine. Where the bloody hell . . .”

He lay in an alleyway, tucked between two low, dirt-covered walls. Taking in his surroundings, the sights, the smells, robbed him of his ability to speak. He recognized this place. Rather, he recognized a thousand sordid places such as this one.
Where
was no longer his concern, so much as
when
.

“You dinna look to be so fine, to me.” The woman stepped closer, tossing her long, red braid over one shoulder before prodding once again.

A fiery trail of pain shot through his leg as the tip of her stick pressed against the wound on his thigh. He grabbed the stick and jerked, dragging the young woman to the ground next to him as he wrenched the implement from her hands.

Before she could draw breath to scream, he captured her gaze and forced his will into her softly yielding mind. The fear coloring her expression a moment before gave way to the blank, emotionless stare of the Compulsion’s entrancement.

“Where am I?” he demanded.

“The village of Dunkiernan.”

It had the sound of Scotland as it rolled from her tongue. The style of dress screamed Middle Ages.

But how could he have traveled through time?

Faerie Magic was the only possibility. Abigail’s Magic? He’d had no earthly idea she had this ability. He’d never felt even a touch of something like this in her blood.

“Take me to your home. I need care.”

Wordlessly, she helped him to his feet and led him out behind the buildings, across a field, and into the nearby woods.

With a backward glance at the village behind him, any lingering doubts as to
when
he might be evaporated. No one who’d ever lived through this bedeviled time could possibly forget it.

Beyond the tiny village, the land rose. In the distance, a castle perched atop the highest point.

“Who lives up there?” he asked, pointing behind them.

The young woman paused to turn her head, her dull eyes following the direction he indicated.

“The MacKiernan. Our laird.” Question answered, she continued forward, still taking part of his weight as he leaned on her shoulder.

MacKiernan. He might have heard the name before, but as to what he’d heard, he had no memory. He’d traveled these lands, but it had been such a very long time ago.

How is this possible?

The question battered against his consciousness over and over like some heathen warrior’s drumbeat.

When he stopped suddenly, the woman stumbled but caught her balance before falling.

If Abigail’s Magic had sent him to this hellhole, it was Abigail’s Magic that could take him back. He’d researched her too carefully not to know she didn’t belong in this time any more than he did.

She didn’t, but perhaps that so-called boyfriend of hers might?

“Where can I find Colin MacAlister?”

Again the woman’s footsteps faltered and she paused to turn, lifting her arm to point up toward the castle in the distance.

If MacAlister was there, Flynn’s ticket home would be there, too. He’d survived this cesspool of history once. He had absolutely no intention of living through it a second time.

A
bby lay in the big bed just as she had so often in her dreams, her body throbbing with disappointment and need, her mind reeling with confusion.

When she’d first awakened, she’d been so sure it was simply the dream. So sure, until Colin’s lovemaking had moved far beyond anything she’d ever experienced in the dream. Only then had she realized it was actually happening.

Even then it had taken all her willpower to call a halt.

None of this made any sense. Simply
wishing
for something couldn’t make it happen. It wasn’t possible. It wasn’t rational.

And yet. . .

Something
had definitely happened. One minute she was in a cave with a homicidal maniac hunting them
and the next she was in Colin’s bed, with him making love to her.

“Explain that one if you can, Miss Faeries-Don’t-Exist,” she said aloud, sitting up as she did so.

She couldn’t explain it. The harder she tried to come up with something, the more Casey’s words echoed through her mind.

I’m telling you, it’s that wish we made. I don’t know how, but it has to be.

When she was little, her dad had spoken of magic often, attributing all sorts of things to the mysterious force. Like her ability to find things. But that was just a story meant to soothe a child, wasn’t it? Could any of this be true?

No, no, no
. She pressed her knuckles against her eyes, rubbing as if her surroundings might be different when she opened them once again.

Accepting any portion of this bizarre business would mean she’d have to accept the whole of it. And there was no way on earth she was accepting the idea that she was sitting in a lumpy bed in medieval Scotland.

She snorted her disbelief, bolstering her confidence, and pushed herself out of bed, pulling the woolen coverlet along with her and wrapping it around her body.

Besides, given time, surely she could come up with some plausible explanation for how she could pass out in one place and wake up somewhere else.

“That could happen.” She again spoke out loud, comforted by the sound of her own voice reflecting off the stone walls. “Easily.” There had to be all sorts of nonmagic and certainly non-Faerie explanations for such
a thing. There’d been an earthquake, she remembered that much. And afterward, Colin must have carried her somewhere, though what had happened to Jonathan Flynn she had no idea at the moment.

That explanation made sense. Sort of.

But wishing something into existence? No. Faerie Magic? No. Time travel?

“Oh, hell no!”

There. She felt better already.

She padded over to the fireplace and turned back to survey the room. First thing she needed to do was get out of here. While this place would certainly pass muster as a first-class reproduction of a medieval bedchamber, outside these four walls she would surely find evidence of where she really was.

Though, if there actually were other people downstairs as Colin had said, she’d really prefer not to be traipsing around in nothing more than a blanket.

A knock on the door caught her off guard. It wasn’t likely Colin would bother to knock. He had, after all, claimed this was his bedroom.

“
Bedchamber
,” she corrected under her breath, as she went to open the door a crack to peek outside.

“Hi!”

The woman standing in the hallway was stunning. Her long, black hair was pulled back in a tie and hung over her shoulder in a soft, dark swath. She smiled over a huge armful of cloth she carried.

Abby’s first thought centered on hoping that bundle was clothing. Her second hit with a little more shock. Could this possibly be the woman Colin had said he was sending?

“Please don’t even try to tell me you’re Colin’s mother.” She couldn’t be more than mid- to late twenties at most.

The woman laughed as she pushed past Abby and into the room, a hearty, happy sound trailing after her much like the scruffy little dog at her feet.

“No, I’m not Rosalyn. I’m Colin’s sister-in-law, Ellie. And this is Missy.” She pointed to the dog who had already made herself very much at home in front of the fire. “I hope you don’t mind dogs, do you? They’re with me so often, I sometimes forget that some people are bothered by them.”

“No problem.” Abby shook her head, tightening her hold on the coverlet she wore.

“Great!” Ellie smiled and dumped her fluffy load on the bed, busily sorting things out into piles. “When Caden—that’s my husband. He’s Colin’s older brother. Anyway, when he asked me to come up and help get you oriented, I just grabbed up an armload of stuff from a bunch of us. I figured somewhere in the mix, we’d find something to fit you until we can get the sewing ladies to do their thing.”

Abby’s stomach sank at the thought of a whole houseful of people knowing she was hiding out in Colin’s bedroom, sans a single stitch of clothing. Humiliation might have had a chance to really get its claws in if something else hadn’t distracted her.

“Do their thing?” How not medieval was that? “It’s kind of hard to swallow Colin’s line about this being 1306 when your speech patterns sound pretty much like mine. Well, except for the whole southern thing you’ve got going on there.”

Ellie plopped down on the bed next to the piles she’d
laid out. “Texas drawl. I don’t think it ever goes away.” She shook her head, a soft smile curving her lips. “But don’t let that fool you, Abby. It is Abby, right?” When Abby nodded, she continued, “This is most definitely 1306. Believe you me, two years ago when those damn Faeries dropped my butt here in a bolt of their green lightning, I didn’t believe it either, so I completely understand your hesitation. Nevertheless, it’s a fact. You’ve just made yourself a trip to medieval Scotland.”

Abby took a step back, sitting rather suddenly with a definite thud on the stool by the fireplace. Next to her, the little dog readjusted its position, scooting closer to her foot as if to comfort her.

“Okay then, how? How does it all work? Convince me this really happened. I have an open mind. I’m a scientist. An archaeologist. At least, I will be when I finish up my graduate work.” She shook her head, irritated that she couldn’t even rant properly without correcting herself. “But I won’t be easily fooled. I’ve had history classes up the wazoo. If this is truly medieval Scotland, tell me how you communicate with these people. They sure as heck didn’t speak our version of English. Don’t speak. Whatever. How do you explain that one?”

Ellie shrugged one shoulder, lifting what looked like a thin nightgown and shaking it out. “I’m not sure I can. To be honest, Abby, I don’t put much thought into it anymore. It’s all tied up in the Faerie Magic. It brought me here to where I belonged. Because of it, I understand them, they understand me, and I’ve never been happier. So, what say we just let all that go and find something in this mess that fits you so we can take you downstairs and introduce you to the family. How’s that sound?”

It sounded like distraction to Abby, and she wasn’t having any part of it.

“Magic. Faeries are responsible for whisking me through time. You honestly expect me to believe that line of bullcrap?”

Ellie stood and walked over to where Abby sat, holding out the garment in her hand. “I don’t expect anything from you, Abby. You can deal with all of this however you need to. This is fact. Whether you like it or not, there really are Faeries in the world. There really is Magic. Just like in all the stories we heard as little girls. But the thing you need to understand is, it’s not the Fae who are responsible for your being here.
You
are responsible for your being here. You obviously have Faerie ancestry, because you wished yourself here and here you are. Now, let’s try this one on you. I think it looks about the right length.”

That
wishing
crap again.

Abby stood and accepted the gown, lifting it to drop over her head, but Ellie stopped her, running her forefinger over the dark bruises on Abby’s upper arm.

“Lady Rosalyn has some herbs that might help that. And the scrape on your neck.”

“Thanks.” Abby darted her eyes away from the other woman’s, hiding her ridiculous embarrassment by sliding into the gown. She thrust her arms into the long sleeves and allowed the yards of material to float down around her. There was no reason for her to feel like this. It wasn’t her fault she’d been attacked.

Too much. There was just too much happening to allow her to think straight. All this sensory overload had cluttered her mind and kept her from thinking
rationally. She just needed to look at the situation from a scientific, logical perspective.

Not that it felt like there was anything either scientific or logical going on here as her reality tumbled away from her.