Woken By The Highlander: A Scottish Time Travel Romance-Highlander Forever Book 7 Read online

  The road wound along the lake shore, keeping close to the lapping waves. She was a little surprised that it was dirt – it seemed quite wide, and the lights up ahead of her seemed to indicate a fairly big… well, something. Not a town, but some kind of landmark, for sure. A lakeside hotel, perhaps? She had her credit card in the wallet that was still stuck in her back pocket, to her great relief – she could book a room for the night and figure everything else out in the morning. She was definitely feeling weary.

  But a frown crossed her face a few minutes later when she looked up into the sky and realized that it was undeniably beginning to lighten – just a touch, the way it did an hour or so before dawn. Could it be even later than she'd thought? Four or five in the morning was her closest guess… that meant she'd lost nearly twelve hours altogether.

  And a hell of a lot could happen in twelve hours.

  Chapter 3

  She'd stopped dead in the road when she noticed dawn creeping into the sky, and she felt a shiver run down her spine as a cold breeze blew past her. Not knowing quite why, she turned to follow it with her eyes out across the black waters of the lake she'd crawled out of not so long ago, watching the water ripple… and then she frowned. There, some distance out, just close enough to be visible in the gloom… what was that? Some kind of boat? A long, slender protuberance that emerged from the water, maybe ten feet tall… but at its top wasn't a flag, as she'd expect on a ship, but rather the mast itself seemed to thicken into something that almost looked like… a head.

  And as she squinted through the gloom, trying to make out just what she was looking at, the head swiveled in her direction, and she muffled a scream.

  Her eyes were playing tricks on her… they must be. Absolutely stunned, some ancient instinct driven by foolishness or curiosity — or were they the same impulse? — sent Julia creeping down the bank of the lake toward its edge, her eyes glued to the strange shape on the water. She willed it to resolve, somehow, to reveal a strangely shaped piece of driftwood jutting out of the water, perhaps a shipwreck that was throwing a strange shadow that had confused her… but then it moved again, and she clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle the gasp, stopping dead in her tracks. A pair of dark, beady eyes, the line of a long mouth… that was a creature, alright. But it was nothing like any aquatic creature she'd ever photographed.

  It looked more like a dinosaur… and as it stared at her, she realized to her shock that it was swimming closer. There was something in those dark eyes, even in the gloom … something that she'd swear up and down was intelligence. Like a dog, curiously investigating a newcomer – she could see the slits on its snout dilating as it sniffed the breeze, and before she could stop herself, she heard her own voice emerging from her throat.

  "Well, hello there."

  The creature seemed to tense… but when she didn't move, it tilted its head just slightly, clearly intrigued by her presence there on the shore. With shaking hands, she raised her camera to her face, barely looking at the device as she pressed the familiar shutter switch on the top a few times to turn it on… then a few more times, expecting the familiar click that indicated a shot had been taken. But there was no response – no flash, no click, no anything. She stared down at the camera… and realized to her shock that it was worse than waterlogged. It was crushed, its frame warped, a split right across its glass cover.

  Water resistant it may have been… but no camera could survive a crack like that getting water into it. She shut her eyes for a moment, squeezing it in her hands in mute apology for letting it die such an ignoble death… and when she opened her eyes, the creature in the lake was gone.

  Julia wasn't in the habit of hallucinating. Aside from her dreams, she'd never seen anything that wasn't there, never imagined anything so vividly she'd actually experienced it… with the exception of the romantic relationship she'd dreamed might eventuate from her interactions with Joseph, of course, she thought with a sour twinge. But she'd seen that creature, plain as day – obscured a little by the gloom of the fading night, but nevertheless there. It had been… what? A dinosaur? Some kind of plesiosaur, perhaps – she itched to Google for pictures to compare it to, knowing full well that she'd be able to name it if she just found the right reference image.

  What it looked like, of course, was the Loch Ness Monster. No nature photographer worth her salt hadn't seen that infamous set of pictures… the creature with its neck sticking out of the water, the absolute uproar it had caused. The consensus was that that picture was a clever fake, of course. There was no monster in Loch Ness… or if there was, that wasn't a real photo of it. But this creature… this had looked eerily similar to that silhouette. Was it possible that a similar creature lived in this enormous lake? Could they be cousins, a world apart? The Loch Ness Monster of the Adirondacks… she could feel her heart pounding with excitement. If she could be the first wildlife photographer to capture footage of a creature like that…

  She bit her lip, frustrated with her lack of a camera. First things first, she'd get to that light in the distance and figure out exactly where she was. Then she'd sort out her phone and her camera – or what remained of them. Then she'd come right back here, to this part of the lake shore, and she'd see whether or not she could get a better picture of the creature that had presented itself to her as if inviting her to capture it. It had seemed curious about her – would it return? Maybe she could bring food or something to tempt it with. It had looked carnivorous… or was that just her associating it with reptiles? It hadn't seemed scaley… its skin, gray in the cool pre-dawn light, had seemed much more like the skin of a dolphin or whale than a fish.

  She turned on her heel and redoubled her speed toward the light in the distance, all the more determined to find out where she was. Now that there was a creature to photograph, she felt a great deal more at home on this strange lakeshore. But as she walked, she began to realize that the distant light was a lot further than she'd thought, its distance somehow distorted by the lake in the way… and she settled into a comfortable pace, resigning herself to the knowledge that it would take a little while to get where she was going.

  As she walked, the sun began to rise, and she was able to get a much better view of her surroundings… though that didn't help her at all in figuring out where she was. The trees looked wrong, that was the first thing she noticed. There was a dense forest to her left, on the opposite side of the road that wound around the lake, but the trees there weren't the same as the ones she'd been walking through. Worry tried to take root, mostly overtaken by sheer curiosity. Just where the hell was she… and how had she gotten here? She had a suspicion it was a hell of a story, and she was looking forward to learning it so she could tell it herself. Maybe she'd write a viral article about the experience.

  The first sign of life was a man who, at first, she suspected she was hallucinating. He appeared in the distance on the road, striding along it leading a horse that was loaded with packages… but the horse was the least of her concerns when she got a proper look at the man. He was huge, broad and muscular, with a thick beard – but more to the point, he was dressed like some kind of historical re-enactor, with what she vaguely recognized as a kilt covering his legs just past his knees. He looked at her curiously as they passed each other, but she was so shocked to see him that she didn't manage to speak until he was gone.

  She was half convinced he was a hallucination… until a pair of men passed her, dressed not only in similar style, but in the exact same kinds of kilts, even the same pattern of tartan. These two actually smiled at her, and one of them gave her a respectful little bow, speaking with a thick accent that she took a moment to place as Scottish.

  "You're nearly there, lass."

  Mystified, she turned to watch the two of them go. What the hell was going on? They hadn't seemed surprised to see her, sopping wet with a broken camera around her neck… they almost looked as though they'd been expecting her. Just what the hell was going on?

  A fork in the ro
ad appeared a little further down, and she lingered there, frowning as she weighed up her options. One road turned left and headed off up a hill – she could see that further up, the road gave way to cobblestones. A town, maybe – some quaint, lakeside town, a tourist attraction? That seemed like the place to go. Someone would have a phone she could borrow. But the light she'd seen in the distance was still lingering on her mind. With the sun climbing into the sky, she couldn't make out the burning points of light anymore… but something was telling her that that was the way she needed to go.

  Chapter 4

  Julia lingered, still, on the fork in the road. There was an old signpost that stood where the road split, but as she approached it, she realized there was no point trying to read it – whatever message had been painted onto the half-rotten piece of wood at its top had faded with wind and weather years ago. What did that mean? she wondered. Probably that this wasn't a place for tourists. The only places where the signposts wore out like that were places where everyone who used the roads knew exactly where they were going.

  Well, she didn't want to get lost – and sticking by the lake seemed to be the best way of keeping her bearings, in the absence of a working phone, map or compass to steer her. So, she took a deep breath and set off down the road in the same direction she'd been walking, making a note of where she'd been. She could always turn back and retrace her steps and try the second road, wherever it might lead. This was fine. She was going to be fine. But her stomach was beginning to grumble, and she bit her lip, hoping she'd find some kind of safe place to rest soon.

  The sun was just peeking over the tops of the trees when she slowed her pace, eyes widening as she discovered the first sign of civilization beside the road she'd stumbled upon since waking up in the depths of the lake. Up ahead, on the left side of the road, tucked safely away into the embrace of the forest… it was a tiny cottage, adorned with a chimney and a thatched roof that struck her as quaintly medieval in appearance. She sped up, grateful to see a house, a residence, some sign of life… but there was something about the place that made her pace slow when she neared it. There was a huge tree in the front yard, its branches spreading into the sky, and a handful of crows were perched in the branches – they cawed at her curiously before taking wing, and she took the opportunity to stop dead, gazing up at the cottage thoughtfully.

  There was something so… hand-made about it. The slightly uneven logs, the wonky verandah, even the rocking chair on the porch, it all looked… well, slightly irregular. Charming, too. She'd be willing to bet that this cottage had been built by hand. Hesitating, she looked over her shoulder – was this the source of the light she'd seen? Somehow, she had a suspicion that the building she was heading for was bigger than this one… but at any rate, she needed some guidance before she kept going. Bracing herself, wondering why she felt so apprehensive, she walked up to the front door of the cottage and rapped on the thick wooden door with her knuckles.

  There was a long silence. If she didn't know better, she'd be convinced that someone was behind the door, listening to her knock… but that made no sense. Why wouldn't they simply open the door and let her in? There were a couple of slightly crooked windows on either side of the door, but they were well and truly covered by thick curtains. Julia waited a little while, even risked another knock… but the sense of apprehension in her stomach just kept growing stronger. She had the strongest sense – and no idea where it came from – that this wasn't the place she was supposed to be. This place, whatever it was, wasn't dangerous… but she needed to keep going.

  "Sorry," she whispered to the door, not sure why – and then she turned and headed down the steps, feeling a palpable sense of relief as she left the little cottage behind. Julia turned to look over her shoulder, giving the place one last, lingering look. Was that a twitch of the curtains on one of the windows? Certainly not. Whoever lived there was either out, or asleep, that was all.

  She hastened on, walking a little quicker than she had before. But it wasn't long until she ran into another person. This was a woman, and she wasn't wearing tartan – she was dressed like she was in some kind of costume parade, though, and Julia's eyes widened as she took in her outfit. She reminded her of the renaissance fairs her brother James had been obsessed with. His interest had always been the weapons, but he'd dragged her to one or two fairs when they were younger, and she'd spent most of her time admiring the dresses. This one was beautiful, a rich brown with a flared waist – but she realized she was staring at the dress and not the woman wearing it and cleared her throat.

  "Good morning," the woman said curiously, tilting her head. Again, a Scottish accent, just like the man from earlier. Were they related, maybe? Had she met two members of the same Scottish family? "Who might you be?"

  "I'm Julia," she said, grateful that the woman had stopped to speak to her. "I – it's going to sound crazy, but I don't remember exactly how I got here."

  The woman laughed, her blue eyes bright. "Don't worry, lass, that doesn't sound crazy to us around here anymore. Did you see Maggie?"

  She blinked. "Who?"

  Another chuckle. "Ah, she never was an early riser, our Maggie. Well, no bother. The Keep is that way – perhaps another half hour by foot, if that far. You can't miss it. They'll take care of you there."

  She couldn't help the feeling that this woman knew something that she didn't – but the kindness of her smile stopped her from feeling annoyed by that suspicion. "The Keep?"

  "Aye, lass. You'll be safe there. They'll explain it all to you." The woman chuckled as she shifted the basket she was carrying on her hip a little. "That makes seven. My word."

  And without elaborating on any of the cryptic information she'd given, the woman headed on down the path, humming a tune to herself as she walked. Julia watched her go, torn between bemusement and annoyance. The Keep? Whatever that was, it seemed like her next destination. Maybe the people there would be less mysterious about exactly where she was. Maybe she should have asked more questions… but she was tired, and hungry, and more than a little delirious. She wasn't sure how much walking she had left in her… but for now, her legs were strong, and her mind was focused, so with a shrug, she kept walking.

  It was maybe five minutes later that she became aware of some sounds emerging from the forest. It was a noisy place at the best of time – all wilderness was – but the sounds of birdcalls and the wind through the trees had quickly faded into the background noise of the path she was walking. But something was different, now – something that made her stop in her tracks on the path, her eyes darting curiously to the forest to her left. There was a path leading into the trees, she realized with a start – not as wide as the road she was walking, of course, but about the size of a walking trail. Curious, she walked up to it, her boots leaving imprints in the thick, damp grass that covered the slight rise up to the tree line.

  Then the sound came again, and her eyes widened with shock as she heard the unmistakable sounds of human voices, raised in anger. For a moment, she thought of the packs of half-drunk hunters that had been roaming through the woods, talking and laughing – their voices had echoed for miles and miles. It was a wonder they caught any prey at all. But this was different – this wasn't the shout of a drunk man. This was the shout of someone in pain.

  Was someone lost in the woods? Hurt, maybe? It was so easy to twist an ankle or worse – she'd been there herself a few times, having to limp down the trail, calling for help… one afternoon, a stranger had found her sitting on a rock in tears, unable to put any weight at all on her ankle. It had been the kindness of that stranger that had made that day far less of a disaster than it could have been… and she'd always been a fan of the idea of paying it forward. So, without a second thought, she plunged into the forest, breaking into a light jog as she headed along the winding path. She'd find whoever had been shouting, see if they needed help.

  And maybe in return for her kindness, they could tell her just where the hell she was.


  Chapter 5

  The path was long and winding, and Julia was just beginning to get a little worried about losing her way if it branched off too many times when it unexpectedly opened up into a little clearing where the blue sky above them shone clearly down through the trees. The reason for this became clear straight away – there was a pond in the center of the clearing and the trees had been cleared from its outskirts. But that wasn't what caught Julia's attention first.

  No, it was the two men, locked in each other's arms, clearly fighting to the death.

  One of them, she realized with a start, was wearing a kilt like the ones she'd seen the men on the roads wearing – down to the same style of tartan exactly. But this man was also wearing what she realized was armor – a combination of metal and chainmail that protected most of his body from harm, as well as a helmet that obscured his face. And at his side – her stomach lurched – was what was unmistakably a sword, sheathed in its scabbard. She thought again of the fairs that James had dragged her to when she was younger. This looked a lot like the fighting demonstrations that had been his absolute favorite part of the fairs – but there was no audience, no crowd to observe what was going on. Only her… and the figure he was fighting.

  For a moment, she had the horrible feeling that he was wrestling with a woman. The figure had sleek, almost white-blond hair that fell to the middle of their back, and a slim, willowy figure… but when the figure turned, she saw by his face that he was a man… though a rather beautiful one. That wasn't usually an adjective that she assigned to men, but it was the only thing that fit. He had huge green eyes, narrowed in concentration as he wrestled with the soldier, and his features were pointed and delicate. It was impossible to tell how old he was – he could have been anywhere between twenty and sixty.