Highlander Avenged: A Scottish Time Travel Romance Read online

  The uniform helped, of course. The wizened old man who served her peered at it with clear concern, and she didn’t correct his assumption that her mission here must have something to do with the military. Technically it does, she thought irritably. If her superior officers had just granted her the leave she’d requested, she wouldn’t have to be doing any of this — she’d have caught a plane to Scotland and would already be investigating her sister’s disappearance instead of having to drive from one country to another like a criminal. But there was nothing to be done about that. She was going as fast as she could, working as hard as she could… she’d just have to hope that she got there on time. Bethany knew she was already very late. These kinds of investigations were usually best attacked in the first twenty-four hours, and by the time she reached the village, it would have been a full week since her sister went missing. But there was no helping that now.

  She paced back and forth on the deck of the ferry during the slow trip over the channel to the United Kingdom. It felt very strange, being a deserter. They’d have discovered that she was missing by now — it was mid-afternoon, and a bunch of stupid briefings had been scheduled that she’d been expected to attend. Her absence would have been noted. Hopefully, they’d be slowed down by the fact that all her belongings were still in her room, save for her gun, her phone and her wallet… the essentials. Maybe they’d assume she’d stepped out for a bite to eat and been abducted? There was a certain sick pleasure she got out of thinking of them conducting a missing person’s search for her — serve them right for not letting her go and do the same thing for her sister.

  That being said, her leave request would probably have tipped them off that there might have been a reason for her disappearance. She thought back to the request she’d lodged, wondering if she’d given them any clues on where to find her… and a grin spread across her face. Of course — she’d told them everything she could about her missing sister, including the country she’d gone missing in… which at the time she’d thought was Ireland. She was always mixing those two places up, especially the accents. Well, perfect. Hopefully, the military police would start their search in Ireland… and give her enough time to find Delilah. After that, she’d turn herself in and see what kind of punishment they’d come up with.

  She realized, as the ferry pulled into the dock, that she didn’t actually care what happened to her. It was funny how this kind of calamity brought things into perspective. For the longest time, she’d been dedicating all her time and energy to her career… doing her best to be her best self, to be the cleverest, the sharpest, the hardest working, first to turn up, last to leave. It was partly being a woman — she knew that despite all the ground women had gained in the last few decades, military intelligence was still a boys’ club. Spite motivated her, a determination to prove that she wasn’t just as good as the men… she was better than them. But what was the point of any of it, if she couldn’t use what she’d learned, the training she’d undertaken, her incredibly sharp mind to help her family when she needed to?

  Let them kick her out of the military, she decided as she set off again in her little rented car, this time heading for Scotland. She’d find something else to do. So long as her sister was safe, that was the important thing. Everything else was going to have to take second priority to that for now. Once she found Delilah, safe and sound — she refused to consider any other possibility — she could decide what she was going to do with the rest of her life.

  It was a long drive. By the time the GPS told her that she was close to her destination, she’d stopped to refuel twice, and the sun had long since set. It was dark and cold here, on these winding roads, and she was grateful for the little car’s heater… and grateful that she’d remembered to bring her thick jacket to keep her warm. Finally, the GPS pinged, telling her that the little town she was driving through was the one she’d been looking for. But it was after midnight, and from the looks of things, nobody here was awake anymore. She decided to sleep in the car. Military bunks were a lot less comfortable than the backseat, she reflected as she settled down to sleep, her jacket pulled over her as a blanket.

  She woke a few hours later to the sun filtering onto her face through the car’s windows. Instantly awake — a habit she’d picked up in basic training that had served her very well indeed — she sat up, peering out the window at the sleepy little town she’d found herself in. She’d parked by the hotel that Delilah had been staying in, but in the light of day it barely looked like a hotel… more like a big old house, with a sign proclaiming it to be a bed and breakfast. What better place to start her search?

  She climbed out of the car, stretching a little and feeling her stomach growl with hunger. She’d grabbed some junk food on the road whenever she’d stopped for fuel the day before, but she hadn’t had a square meal in a while. Maybe this bed and breakfast could help her with that… as tempted as she was to just crack on with the search as quickly as possible, she knew that keeping herself fed was important.

  A bell jangled on the door as she opened it, and an older woman came bustling out of a room to the side, her face crinkled in a bright, welcoming smile. The uniform gave her pause — civilians usually did a double-take when they saw it. It had been a while since Bethany had spent much time around civilians, and she’d forgotten what an impact the outfit could have. Should she change her clothes? she wondered. She hadn’t brought any civilian gear with her on this trip — maybe it would be best to grab something from a local store. That being said, she didn’t have any local cash, and she was reluctant to use her credit card in case they’d put a trace on it. It wouldn’t do to get hauled back to her commanding officer just because she’d been shopping.

  “Hello, dear!” the woman said brightly. “Were you wanting a room? Didn’t know we had any military types in town. What country’s that, then? America?”

  Her accent was incredibly thick — Bethany couldn’t help but smile a little as she adjusted to the Scottish brogue. It was rather charming, if a little difficult to understand… she supposed she’d get her ear attuned to it sooner or later.

  “Ma’am, my name is Bethany Cortland. I’m here to find my sister.”

  The woman’s eyes widened, and a look of recognition spread across her face. “Cortland. You’re here to find that poor girl Delilah. You’re her sister? Oh, dear, I’m so sorry.”

  “Delilah stayed here. Were you the one who checked her in?”

  “Aye, aye, that was me. I met her for all of ten minutes, the poor dear. Come with me, I’ll show you to her room.”

  They headed upstairs, the woman chattering away a mile a minute about every single detail of Delilah’s arrival at the bed and breakfast. Bethany appreciated the thorough approach — though others may have grown impatient with the info dump, she knew how important it was to get as much data as possible when it came to cases like this. Sure enough, Delilah’s room had been left untouched — a suitcase, still mostly packed, sitting by the bed, and a laptop case on a broad desk by the window.

  “She said she was working on a book about the MacClaran ruins,” the woman was explaining as she hovered in the doorway, clearly reluctant to disturb the scene, even though Bethany could tell the local police had already been through and examined the place thoroughly. “I told her they were just a short walk up the hill from town — she said she was going to go for a walk to have a quick look before she got started on the real work tomorrow… that was Sunday afternoon, of course.”

  “I wish I’d been here sooner.” Delilah sighed, looking around the room. There wasn’t much to go by here. “You said she went for a walk? And that was the last time you saw her?”

  “Aye, that’s right. I waited up for her all night, but there was no sign… I called the police in the morning when she hadn’t been back, and they searched all over, but no trace of her, I’m afraid.”

  “You said she went to look at some ruins? Where are those?”

  “Aye, yes, come with me.” The woman
bustled down the stairs again, full of purpose, and led her to the door, pointing at the road that ran out of town and up a hill toward a dense forest — the opposite way to the road that had brought Delilah here. “Up that hill you’ll find the castle ruins. That’s where she’d have been heading.”

  “I’ll go now,” Bethany said. “Thanks for your help.”

  “Anything I can do at all, dear, you let me know. You’re welcome to take her room, too, if you’d like to stay — or the one next door, if you’d prefer not to disturb the scene, it’s up to you entirely.” The woman was hovering anxiously. “Were you on the road all night?”

  “Almost. I drove up from where I was stationed in France.”

  “France! That’s a long drive and no mistake. And have you eaten?” A beady-eyed look came across the woman’s face, and Bethany suppressed a smile.

  No matter what country she was in, older women were always very interested in the last time she’d eaten. Maybe it was her figure — she’d always had an athletic build, and older woman tended to cluck their tongues and assume it was because she didn’t eat enough. “Please — there’s a big breakfast on here every morning, I’d be delighted if you’d help yourself to something before you go. No charge, naturally.”

  “That’s kind of you,” Bethany said, giving the woman a smile. “Thanks.”

  The dining room was very quaint — Bethany felt a little out of place in such a cozy and carefully decorated space. Every table had a hand-embroidered tablecloth on it — there were a handful of people eating breakfast, and she got a few curious looks from the guests as she made her way to a table that was groaning with heavily-laden plates and platters of hot and cold food. She helped herself to a plateful of scrambled eggs and toast, and a few strips of bacon, too, her stomach growling in earnest now that there was food right in front of her.

  With a full stomach, she felt more than ready to take on the world. After thanking the woman at the front desk for the meal, she headed out into the cool morning, taking a deep breath of the cool, fresh air. It is a beautiful place, she thought as she walked to her car, looking around thoughtfully at the sleepy town. Beautiful, yes — but that didn’t mean it didn’t harbor unsavory elements. After all, there was a chance her sister hadn’t just gone missing — she’d have to keep in mind the possibility of a kidnapping. A woman alone, in a foreign country, spending her time isolated in the countryside… the opportunity would absolutely have been there. And Bethany knew enough about human trafficking to know that time was of the essence — by now, Delilah could be just about anywhere.

  She kept her mind on the present, not letting herself disappear down grim hypothetical paths. Yes, there was a chance that something terrible had happened… but there was also a chance that Delilah could be returned, safe and sound. No matter what, she had to stay focused. And that meant conducting a thorough search of the last place she’d been known to visit. After that, she’d think about conducting interviews of the townspeople, to see if anyone had seen her, or knew of any place she might have gone… unless she found a useful lead in the ruins.

  It was clear that the police had been here, she realized as she crested the ridge in her little car and found the ruins that the woman at the bed and breakfast had thoroughly described to her. She parked on the side of the road a hundred feet or so away from the ruins and headed over, frowning to see the evidence of police presence. There were flapping remnants of police tape, footprints everywhere… the site had been well and truly examined. She made a note to drop by the local station later, to go over their notes — but for now, it would be good to examine the site herself. The sun was warm on her neck as she began to carefully but methodically go over the site, frowning a little as she searched. Delilah always had been so fascinated by this medieval stuff… she’d known everything about castles, how they were built and laid out. Bethany had to admit, she was at a loss. There were clear remnants of a building here, that was for sure, but she couldn’t tell what any of the rooms had been intended for. There was a big open space that might have been some kind of dining hall — behind it was a semi-intact room, with walls and even a piece of ceiling. She kept searching, trying to keep her mind quiet, trying to take in as much information as possible. You never knew what insignificant piece of evidence might be an essential clue to the answer to a puzzle like this one.

  So this was the last place Delilah had been seen. Where had she gone from here? The road stretched on toward the west coast of the island, miles away. Was it possible she’d fallen into the ruins of the old castle’s basement, if it had one? No — the local police would have exhausted that option. Besides, Delilah would know better than to let herself risk falling and hurting herself when she was working alone. It was a lot more likely that someone had come along while she was exploring the ruins and taken her with them. That meant talking to the townsfolk… and the local police. That meant a much longer investigation than she really had time for, knowing that the military police would be hot on her trail soon enough. Desertion was serious business.

  She was standing in the remnants of what she guessed was a bedroom — it was about the right size, judging by the remains of the walls — and she felt a wave of tiredness wash over her. It had been a long few days, and she wasn’t running on much sleep, as much as the meal had helped. She took a seat on the knee-high remnants of the wall, staring around the ruins in dismay. There was nothing here. How was she supposed to find her sister? Had she really thought she was just going to charge out here and immediately find the path to wherever Delilah had been taken? Was this panic that was beginning to creep in at the edges of her vision?

  No — it wasn’t. It was something else. Bethany frowned, alarm rising in her chest as she realized that her vision was clouding over. What was wrong with her? Had she eaten something untoward — had there been something in the eggs that had disagreed with her? But before she could give it much more thought, she felt her consciousness slipping away… and the last thing she remembered was slumping from the wall into the grass before she was out cold.

  Chapter 3

  Bethany usually woke up quickly, so it felt very odd to feel herself coming out of sleep at an achingly gradual pace, the strange, not-quite-dreaming state of deep sleep steadily giving way to consciousness. She couldn’t quite get her thoughts straight… there was something happening, something important, there was time pressure… she was chasing someone, and someone else was chasing her… she followed her thoughts around in circles, confused and alarmed by the way her mind didn’t seem to be willing to obey her.

  But finally, some clarity returned, and she felt her eyelids fluttering as she woke from an incredibly deep sleep — deeper than she remembered sleeping since the bone-deep exhaustion that had claimed her every day of basic training. And like in basic training, she didn’t feel particularly restored. She felt, rather, like she’d been hit by a truck, or like she hadn’t slept for a week. She struggled to open her eyes, her whole body resisting her, trying to return to sleep… but actual panic was beginning to rise in her chest, now. What was wrong with her? Had she been drugged, poisoned? Had she fallen ill? The last thing she could remember was parking her rental car by the ruins… the ruins! She’d passed out!

  She sat bolt upright in bed — and heard a pair of screams in response. She whipped her head around, completely disoriented, her body refusing to react like she wanted it to. Bed? How had she gotten into a bed? Stone walls, a fireplace, a rough wooden table, an open door, two frightened faces in matching white bonnets. What the hell? The last thing she’d remembered, she’d been sitting on a ruined wall in the remnants of an old castle…

  “Who are ye?” one of the women squeaked, and the Scottish accent reminded her where she was. “The Laird didn’t say we had any guests stayin’ or we’d have set you a fire —”

  “The who? Where am I?” Her voice felt scratchy, like she hadn’t had any water in days — she winced a little, swallowing hard and clearing her throat. “What is th
is place?”

  “That accent,” the other woman said to the first one in an undertone. She had bright blue eyes and seemed a little younger, but there was a look of recognition on her face. What on earth were these women wearing? Long, drab cotton dresses with white aprons over the top, for all the world like extras from some medieval drama. Delilah would have loved that — she was obsessed with all those period shows.

  Delilah. Her sister. Bethany felt fear clutch her chest. How long had she been here? How much time had she wasted that she could have used to search for her sister? She swung her legs around and pulled herself out of bed… but to her horror, her body betrayed her. She stumbled, her head spinning, a dizzy, lurching rush of vertigo almost claiming her consciousness. She fought her way up with her teeth gritted, using all the willpower she had. The two maids — it was hard to think of them as anything else, given what they were wearing — rushed forward to steady her, but she waved them off.

  “I have to go. I have to — my sister’s missing, I need to find her. Can you tell me where I am, please?”

  “Why, you’re in Castle MacClaran, of course,” the first woman said, frowning as though the question was completely absurd. “Where d’ye think?”

  “Castle MacClaran?” Bethany tilted her head, thinking hard. That sounded familiar. Wasn’t that the name of the family Delilah had been studying? She’d mentioned it in their letters a few times — the MacClaran clan, a family of Scottish warriors who were interesting to folklore for some reason or another… she hadn’t really kept track of her sister’s project beyond the bare bones. Now, she regretted it. “Like the ruins? Is this a museum, or something?”