Join A Highlander: A Scottish Time Travel Romance-A Highlander Across Time Book 4 Read online

  And she had to admit, she was looking forward to seeing him again. The two of them had only met once… and she'd definitely not come out on top, with DeBeers not only putting her off her guard, but managing to outwit her completely and get away. But this time would be different. She was prepared for his tricks. She wasn't letting him get out of this castle.

  Not this time.

  But as she was heading down the stairs, she felt her foot slip as a part of the crumbling staircase gave way. Sarah caught her breath, suppressing a scream as she felt herself fall – she caught herself on the bannister before anything catastrophic could happen, but she'd made more than enough sound to alert DeBeers to her presence. And sure enough, she heard the quick sound of footsteps ahead of her as she straightened. Cursing, she accelerated, peering through the gloom down here as she dug her phone out of her bag to use as a flashlight.

  But she needn't have bothered. Down here, there was only one room at the end of the corridor that followed the staircase. And there stood DeBeers, his satchel on the ground before him, his arms folded as he waited for her. The beard he'd grown didn't do anything to stop her recognizing him, and she narrowed her eyes as she shone her torch's flashlight full into his handsome face, making him wince and raise a hand to block the light.

  "Miss Elway, that's quite unnecessary."

  "DeBeers," she said, stopping her voice from shaking through force of will. It wouldn't do to let on the way her heartrate had skyrocketed, the way adrenaline was coursing through every part of her body. Playing it cool was always the best option. Make him feel like she was in control of the situation… though from the wry smile playing about his lips, she had a suspicion that she might have missed the boat on that one.

  "I have to say… I'm impressed. It's not just anyone who can follow me without my noticing." He had a crisp, rather formal-sounding English accent when he spoke normally… at least, she thought he did. He spoke several languages and was very skilled at putting on a range of accents, altering his voice to suit the situation… she'd heard him do an impeccable Boston accent on the phone, and his range of European accents was even more impressive.

  "It's over, DeBeers," she said quickly, one hand straying to her hip, where her gun was. "The local police are on their way. Make it easy on yourself."

  "Oh, I don't think so," he said, his eyes dancing. "As much as I'm flattered by your… rather dogged interest in me, Sarah, I've got far better things to do with my time than stand around chatting with a beautiful woman in a moldy old dungeon."

  She gritted her teeth, irritated by the compliment. To her chagrin, it had been his casual habit of flirtation that had put her off her guard last time, enough to let him escape. She'd spent years of her career being insulted, threatened, yelled at, harassed… all of that glanced off her armor without so much as a second thought. But the instant a suave, handsome man actually flirted with her… it was just that it made her uncomfortable, of course. She wasn't actually attracted to this scumbag. She knew too much about how he operated – about the damage he'd done, the trail of injured and dead women he'd left behind him.

  "Save it. Are those the jewels?"

  He looked down at the satchel at her feet, his gray eyes widening. "This satchel? Why, of course not. Just my camera and a packed lunch." He nudged the bag with his foot, and she narrowed her eyes at the unmistakable sound of jewelry shifting around. "How did you find me, out of interest?"

  "You're not as good as you thought at keeping secrets," she replied.

  He shrugged… then reached down to pick up the satchel.

  "Stay still."

  "Or what? Are you going to shoot me with that funny little weapon you've got on your hip?" He grinned at her lazily. "I don't think so. You're not a policewoman, Sarah. You don't have the callouses on your soul that are required to kill —"

  "You're not a cop either," Sarah snarled, annoyed despite herself by the little jab at her career. "Didn't seem to stop you killing half a dozen women to cover your trail –"

  "True enough." He shrugged. The lack of repentance… that was a part of why she hated him so much. "Didn't work though, did it? Here you are… suppose they all died for nothing. What a shame. Anyway, as delightful as this has been, I've got places to be." And with that, he turned – and before she could react, ran from the room, tearing through a doorway at the back of the space they were in. Swearing to herself, Sarah followed, adrenaline coursing through her as she gave chase. He must be desperate. There was no other way up from this lower level – all she had to do was corner him.

  Sure enough, the next room was a dead end – no doors in any of the walls save the one she'd come through, except for one small door that could maybe only be considered big enough for a child. Surely it couldn't lead anywhere. It was probably for storage. But where was DeBeers? He'd gone through this door – he couldn't be far. She quietly shut the door then moved into the room toward the small door, feeling the adrenaline surge in her, she opened the small door and crawled through, but as she made it to the other side of the threshold, she suddenly heard footsteps behind her.

  He'd gotten around her somehow – she heard the door across the room from her, the one she'd used to enter the larger room, opening as he made a break for it. How had he managed that? The room had been empty, she'd been so sure!

  Sarah turned and crawled back through the small door then ran after him, and in her single-minded focus on her quarry, failed entirely to notice how much the ruins around her had changed…

  Chapter 3

  She ran through the room she'd first met DeBeers in, encouraged by the sound of his footsteps up ahead. He wouldn't get far – she'd catch him on the stairs, or on the second level, bring him down, put a gun to his head until the cops caught up. There'd be paperwork, of course. There always was, bringing down a perp in a foreign country… but she could deal with that later. That was her future self's problem. For now, all she cared about was catching him up. She dodged around the furniture in the room, jumped over a low table and kept running, tearing through the hallway and up the stairs. The light felt different out here, somehow – the lights had been moved up onto the walls, somehow. How had that happened?

  It didn't matter – all that mattered was DeBeers, ahead of her, running. She accelerated, shouting his name, adrenaline pounding… and then felt the wind rush out of her as she ran straight into something hard and unyielding that stopped her in her tracks and held her still with thick arms. Her mind still on her prey, she struggled mindlessly, shouting – but she could see him, too, being restrained by – who? Had the Scottish police already arrived?

  "Settle down, lass, settle down."

  That was a Scottish accent, for sure – she pulled herself a little away from the man who was holding her, narrowing her eyes when he refused to release her wrist.

  "This man is an internationally wanted criminal," she said quickly, gesturing to DeBeers, who was having his own difficulties struggling free of the man who was holding her. Sarah blinked, suddenly struck by the strangeness of her surroundings. She hadn't noticed while pursuing DeBeers, but this part of the ruin looked a lot less… well, ruined. Had they somehow taken a different turning? This level of the castle looked… well, it looked like it had been restored, somehow. Were they in the gift shop or something? She hadn't realized that this was here. Wooden walls, tapestries and paintings hung on them… this hallway looked for all the world like an expert medieval restoration, the kind you might see in a museum.

  And the men holding them still were a sight to behold, too. Her eyes widened as she took them in. These weren't cops – not the kind she was used to, anyway. They were dressed in old-fashioned armor, with what looked like real swords at their belts… for all the world like medieval guards. Was this some kind of re-enactment being put on for the tourists? Had she been so absorbed in her notes on the case that she'd missed the announcement about this? It would have amused her… if she hadn't had much bigger problems on her mind.

  "Le
t go of me," she said firmly, pulling herself free and turning to look up at the man who'd been restraining her. He towered over her… not unusual, as she'd never been especially tall, but this man was definitely one of the tallest she'd ever met. The armor made him look even bigger, but she could see the powerful muscles underneath it that suggested his frame was bulky for more reasons than just the armor he was wearing. His hair was short and dark red in the light of what she was beginning to realize were period-appropriate lamps set in the wall, and his fierce blue eyes were fixed on her face, a combination of surprise and something like recognition dancing there.

  And he was ignoring her request, his hands, which she had momentarily pulled free of had returned to grasp her in a still firm hold. She narrowed her eyes, pulling away again, trying to keep DeBeers in her field of vision – but the other men, dressed similarly to the one who was holding her, were in the way. She was more than capable of harming this man, of getting his hands off her by way of a broken arm if necessary… but she didn't want to do any more damage than necessary. Filling in the paperwork about arresting DeBeers out here was going to be enough of a hassle, she didn't want to add assaulting some kind of re-enactment performer to the list. "This man is a thief," she explained, gritting her teeth as she searched for patience. "His name is Damon DeBeers. I'm Sarah Elway, I'm a detective from Boston and I've tracked him here. That satchel he's got contains a horde of stolen diamonds –"

  "Haven't heard that one before," the man holding her said, his rough Scottish accent confirming what she suspected – he was a local. "Take him to a cell, would you, until we can get all this sorted out?"

  The men who were holding DeBeers nodded – but something had caught Sarah's attention. She narrowed her eyes, scanning the man, her heart lurching sickly in her chest when she realized what was wrong. "Where's the satchel?"

  "The what?" one of the guards asked.

  DeBeers looked panicked, too. The guards were holding his arms, but he was staring around himself frantically, clearly searching for the satchel as well. She frowned. It wasn't like him to lose something as important as one of his heists… could this be some kind of trick designed to throw her off his hiding place for the jewels? But the panic on his face looked very real. She knew him well enough by now to know he wasn't an especially good actor… a good liar, yes, and a master manipulator, but when it came to raw emotion like fear, his skills let him down. He was legitimately confused about where his jewels were. Had he dropped them? She moved automatically toward the hallway behind them… only to find herself being lifted bodily off the ground. She squeaked, shocked and angered by the gesture… but the man holding her shrugged his shoulders.

  "Miss Elway, you'll need to come with me," he said, his voice calm and unperturbed by how furiously she was fighting against him.

  Sarah reached for her gun and realized with a sick lurch of her stomach that it, like the jewels, was missing. What the hell was going on? Had they both managed to drop their most important possessions in the chase? She only hoped a child wouldn't stumble upon it… but that thought made her frown. Speaking of children… where on Earth were all the tourists? They'd come up several flights of stairs… they should have been in sight of the tourist groups by now. But the hallway they were standing in was empty.

  The man was carrying her now, and she fought her way down from his arms, insisting on walking herself. The grip he maintained on her arm wasn't uncomfortable, but it was firm… a reminder that he'd happily lift her off the ground again if he needed to. It was condescending, and she hated it… but right now, she had other things on her mind. DeBeers was being taken in a different direction, and her eyes widened as they emerged into an enormous hall. For the first time since the men had caught them, she took a moment to look around… and was gripped suddenly by a deep worry.

  Where the hell was she? They were standing in what looked like an enormous hall, a staircase leading to an upper floor at one end, a pair of huge doors at the other, parted to reveal gray sky and daylight pouring in. They were on ground level, not underground… but what the hell was this building they were standing in? She'd stood on the road and gazed out across the ruin – she'd have noticed if there was a building this large anywhere nearby. And there simply hadn't been. Some walls, some fallen pillars… but nothing like this.

  DeBeers, too, was wearing a look of vivid confusion… but he was carried away by the other guards before he could say anything. Sarah could barely summon the will to argue with that, so utterly confused was she about where she had ended up. "Where – how – where am I?" she said weakly.

  The guard behind her sighed. "It's a long story, Miss Elway. You're in Dunscaith Castle."

  That was the name of the ruin – she remembered that. "This isn't a ruin," she pointed out blankly. "Where have you brought me? How did you get us so far from –"

  "Like I said, a long story. But you're not the first of your kind here. Come along, now. The Laird and his lady wife will be able to explain a great deal better than me."

  Laird? Was that some kind of local authority – a Scottish word for mayor, perhaps? She frowned again. "With respect, I'd like to know where I am first. And who you are."

  "Castle Dunscaith on the Isle of Skye," the main said, narrowing his eyes at her. "And I'm Kieran MacLeod, Captain of the Guard."

  "Okay. The guard. Does that mean you're private security, or police, or –"

  "It means I'm in charge of trespassers in the castle, and you're coming with me," Kieran said, in a tone that suggested he was reaching the end of his patience.

  Irritated, and more than a little intimidated by the look in his eyes, she raised her hands in a gesture of surrender. Relenting a little, he gave her a nod, then released her arms from the vice grip he'd been maintaining on them.

  "Can I trust you to walk with me?"

  "Sure," she said, shrugging. "So long as DeBeers is in custody –"

  "Aye, we'll keep your boyfriend safe for you," the guard said, rolling his eyes.

  "He's not –" she started hotly, feeling a blush rising to her cheeks. "He's a thief. I'm the detective on his case."

  "Detective, hm? You'll definitely want to speak with Lady Maria."

  The guard captain – Kieran, she corrected herself – led her through the enormous hall they were standing in. She did her best not to stare around at her surroundings too much, wanting to get to wherever it was he was taking her quickly. The sooner they straightened out whatever misunderstanding had brought her here, the better. And she was curious to know how she'd managed to get from the basement of a ruin into something that looked for all the world like a museum. How hadn't she seen it from the cliffside where the bus had parked? Had she really been that single-minded in her focus on capturing DeBeers?

  She didn't like the sound of him being in someone else's custody. But at least he was being held. As for the diamonds… she'd go back for them as soon as she got out of Kieran's clutches. Maybe whoever he was taking her to – this Laird, or this woman Maria, or whoever – would be able to help her.

  They moved through a pair of wooden doors into a room that made her eyes widen in surprise. An enormous hall, warm and inviting, with fires burning in several fireplaces set in the walls, and half a dozen or so enormous, long wooden tables groaning under the weight of platters of food. It smelled delicious in here, and she felt her stomach growl, surprising her. It had been a while since breakfast, she suddenly realized… she always got so single-minded when she was on cases that she often forgot to eat regularly.

  But there was something else drawing her attention. Seated at the various tables were dozens of people, many of them looking up at her curiously… and she realized as she looked around that it wasn't just Kieran who was dressed like they were in medieval times. Was this some kind of huge group cosplay? There were servants bustling back and forth, dressed in old-fashioned garb, men in armor at half of the seats… Kieran cleared his throat, and she realized she had stopped dead in the middle of the
dining room, staring around in awe.

  Just what the hell kind of bizarre re-enactment society had she stumbled upon, here?

  Chapter 4

  “Come now,” Kieran said in a low voice, taking her by the arm again – this time much more softly, a polite gesture, not a restraining one. She let herself be led through the hall, still reeling in shock at what she was seeing, until they stopped at a table that was on a raised platform. There were only two people sitting at this one – a man who looked a lot like Kieran, the same huge frame and blue-gray eyes. He had wavy blond hair, though, that reminded her of DeBeers, and when he looked at her with curiosity on his handsome face she felt impatience surge in her again. Where was her quarry? What if he got away from his captors?

  The woman at the man's side was staring at her intently, and she returned her gaze, a little confused by the look of vivid interest and something almost like recognition in that brown-eyed regard. The woman had sharp, slightly pointed features and thick, dark hair that tumbled over her shoulders, such a deep, glossy black that it almost looked blue in the firelight. She was wearing a beautiful gown, medieval in style, the bodice hugging her curves – Sarah could make out thick skirts below the table, too.