Kahleena MacCarthy ~ To Meet a Highlander (7 page)

             
“I’m not here to kill you, you moron. And where I’m from, my clothes are perfectly acceptable.” Tsarina was insulted that the brute of a man she was to save would insult her Hurley shorts and Hollister top.

             
He laughed. “Nay, lass, ye'd not be able to kill me. 'Twould be impossible for ye.” Drostan and Tor laughed. “Well ye’re men must run around with hard…” Zarik shook his head at the grins on his friends’ faces. They knew what he’d been about to say. “Moron?”

             
“Nevermind. Do we really need to stay here? It’s a little disgusting.”

             
“Ye enter a battlefield, sit in the middle of it and then act as though we disturb you? Are ye English? But you do speak Gaelic.” Zarik heard her accent. It was like none he’d heard. Although she was speaking Gaelic. It wasn't perfect Gaelic, but it was close.

             
Tsarina didn’t realize she was speaking Gaelic. Evidently the powers of the universe made sure she was adept to their language. That was a relief. “I didn’t mean to be here. I didn’t really think I’d travel through the stones. And, on the chance that I did, I didn’t think they’d land me in the midst of death and destruction. I really dislike the sight and smell of blood. I just thought the old lady was crazy. You know? One too many painkillers.” Tsarina sighed. This was hopeless. She’d never asked how she was supposed to convince them she was supposed to be here, but came through the Standing Stones from the future. Now that she thought on it, she sounded more than slightly crazy. They’d probably burn her at the stake thinking she was a witch. She really should have gotten more information before she jumped into something. This time Trystan couldn't clean up her mess for her.

             
“For disliking blood, perhaps ye’ll want to run back to where ye’re from. There’s no much else here. It’s generally blood from someone.” Zarik grinned. He enjoyed blood and battle.

             
Drostan’s face lit up. “Well, devil take ye, Zarik. This is the woman Argus has been on about fer years. It’s yer savior from the future. Mayhap she’s pretty under the blood and dirt. And ye shouldn’t poke at her. Ye’ll be marrying her.” Drostan slapped Zarik on the back. “What do ye ken? The auld Druid wasn't addled after all.”

             
“She’s no my savior from the future. Clearly the Fraser’s are meddling where they shouldnae be. Let’s clean up at the loch over there and I’ll send a few men to take her back to them.”

             
“Take me back? You can get me back through the stones?” He’d made it sound so easy. Tsarina was going to get to go home. But, then she’d fail what the old woman needed her to do. Would that mean it would be her fault if something in the future was messed up? “Wait. You know about me?” Tsarina cast her gaze pointedly at Drostan.

             
“We’ve only heard praise of ye coming to save Zarik from himself for years. The auld Druid, Argus, and Zarik’s father, Niall, drive us all into our cups about stories of how we must accept ye, protect ye and that Zarik must love ye.” Drostan saw her questioning glance. “Aye, lass, ye’ll be protected. Each of us would give our life. If ye’re here to save Zarik and make him bearable, that alone is well worth dying for.” He hit Zarik in the arm.

             
“Must love me? I’d not have anyone forced on me. I didn’t think I was so terrible.” Damn these men. Maybe she should just try to go home. First Galen seemed apprehensive, now them. Maybe it was simply Scottish men. No taste in women.

             
“We cannae take ye through the stones. I don’t believe it’s even how ye got here. Magic.” Zarik made a distasteful face when he said the word. “I’ll have several of my men escort ye back to Fraser land.”

             
“But, I don’t know them.”

             
“Did ye not say ye were Fraser?”

             
“Yes, but I’m a Fraser from the year 2013. See my clothes? Could I even purchase them here? Or my backpack?” Tsarina held up her pink backpack as her evidence.

             
The three Highlanders eyed one another and eyed her, noticing that more of their clan warriors were beginning to surround them, wiping battle from their blades and faces.

             
Torradan grabbed the backpack from her and shook his head. “The lass is correct. She’d not be able to purchase any of the items here. What’s in the backpack?” The word sounded strange on his tongue.

             
“My things. I was on vacation, doing research in Scotland. And here I am now.”

             
“This is not happening.” Zarik was looking rather unhappy, which Torradan and Drostan took as more than amusing.

             
“She came for ye.” Torradan was still amused. “The auld man was right. But tell me, Tsarina, did they warn ye of what ye were going to get? I mean, look at him.”

             
Zarik elbowed his brother. Hard. “She’s no here for me.”

             
“Well, you can’t take me to the Fraser’s. They really won’t know me. Please. Just take me back with you until you can figure out how to get me back.”

             
“Fine. Let’s take her. And Tor, hang on to that backpack.” Zarik shot her a glare that dared her to argue about it. No matter her story, truth or not, honor would not allow him to leave a lass unprotected. “I’m in a hurry to get home and the sun is leaving us.” Zarik called everyone together and decided to skip cleaning up. It was better to just get back to the keep and jump into the loch after they got there.

****

              Tsarina glanced at the landscape the entire way back to their keep, which she thought was more like a castle. It was beautiful. So much destruction and modernizing had been done to the Scotland she visited in 2013. It was a shame. This Scotland was pure. Well, if you didn’t include all the bloodshed.

             
It even smelled fresh.

             
As they went along, she rode with Drostan, who seemed none too pleased with sharing his horse with her. They rode behind Zarik, which gave her the opportunity to check him out. He was tall. She had thought Galen tall, but this Highlander was at least six foot seven. He was thicker and more confident. His long blond hair was down to almost his waist and he had two small braids. One on each side of his face, with the back flying free. Zarik’s blue eyes were magnificent. Clear, yet sparkly. Brilliant. Piercing when he looked at you.

             
Perhaps trying to win him over wouldn’t be such a hardship on her part after all. Too bad she couldn’t thank the old woman for her meddling.

             
When they arrived, Torradan let out a call to the gate watcher. Was that what they were called? Tsarina smiled to herself at her thoughts. She would get to write history while living in the midst of her research. Maybe there was a way she could get it to someone in the future. Too bad she didn't bring extra pens and notebooks. There's no way she'd likely be able to get any of the research supplies she was used to around here.

             
On the way to the large gates, there were numerous small homes placed here and there for miles. Upon entering the gates, there were towers and the main castle. Other buildings and storage places. The castle itself was at least six stories. It looked to be very well build, although rather dark in appearance. It was obvious that those living there and those caring for it, took pride in having a clean place. So much for all things historic being dirty.

             
People ran up to them to greet the warriors on another victory. She listened as some older man spoke with Zarik and patted his back as he got off his horse. As they noticed her, they all gave her odd looks. Her clothes, she guessed.

             
“That’s Zarik’s father, Niall. The auld man with him is Argus.” Torradan explained as though he could read her thoughts. “Argus has long predicted yer arrival to Niall, who puts complete faith in the old Druid. Zarik wasn’t convinced. He doesnae believe in magic. He’ll think of another way to explain yer odd clothing.”

             
“What about you. Did you think Argus would be correct?”

             
“It didn’t matter; it wasn’t supposed to have any bearing on me at all. If ye showed up,” Drostan shrugged. “ye were to be Zarik’s. However, now I find ye with me while Zarik tries to ignore you.”

             
Argus turned and smiled as he looked up at Tsarina on the horse. Faster than she thought he’d be able to walk, he was at their side.

             
“I’ve waited many years for ye, lass. I'm glad ye've finally came. Thank ye. It no could have been an easy task.” He looked toward Zarik. “And it will get even more difficult know. Why are ye riding with Drostan?” Argus took her hand and placed a kiss on it, while shooting a displeased look at Zarik.

             
“It’s just where I ended up. So, you know how I got here?” Tsarina watched the old man nod. “And you know why I’m supposed to be here?” She saw the smile flash across his face and as he nodded again. “Can you help me get back?” That was it. His smile was gone.

             
“Lass, ye cannae go back. Ye belong here. Zarik needs ye. I need ye. We, the clan,  need ye.” The elderly man eyed Drostan. “Why did ye not insist she ride with her betrothed?”

             
Drostan shrugged and rolled his eyes. Argus knew that when Zarik made up his mind, it’s just the way it was. No matter what anyone else thought or said. Arguing was pointless. It would only end with Zarik plundering someone.

             
“He doesnae seem interested. So, I’m not much help if I fail. I should simply go home.” Tsarina was matter-of-fact. “Betrothed? He doesn’t know me; I can’t be betrothed to him. Isn’t there some ceremony and doesn’t he have to ask?”

             
“Betrothed? Yes, it’s fitting and Niall and I will tell him later. I know who ye are, lass, even if he doubts me. Deep down, he kens why ye are here and how ye got here. He'll just no admit it for a time. Mayhap not ever. Nothing worth anything ever comes easy. Ye’ll see in time. He’ll be interested. Zarik’s just going to be difficult.” With that, she watched Argus walk back over to Niall.

             
She was at Drostan’s mercy as Zarik still hadn’t seen fit to even look her way. So much for her knight in shining armor. Or was that sword bearing Highlander with flowing kilt?

****

              Drostan escorted her in and placed her in what he called capable hands. The young girl couldn’t have been older than thirteen.

Tsarina was given a brief tour of the main castle area and shown to her room. A tub, of sorts, was brought up for her and several people carried boiling water up for her. She was already missing faucets. Did they really step into that boiling hot steamy water? She’d have third degree burns everywhere.

Cringing at the thought of everywhere, she pulled off her clothing and wrapped in what they called a towel. It definitely wasn’t fluffy and absorbent like she was used to. It had a rough texture. There was no fabric softener or dryer sheets here.

A knock on the door pulled her away from degrading the towel further. “Come in.” Tsarina watched as the young girl came back in, mostly hidden between clothing she had flung over her shoulders and in her arms.

“The MacKinnon sent these to ye. They were his wife’s. Ye look about her size.” The girl rambled as she placed everything in a chair and began spreading them carefully across the bed. She hoped that soon Zarik would welcome her with the gifts Argus and Niall had seen fit to have purchased for her. She was looking forward to a lady around the house to talk and arrange clothing for. “She died several years ago in some clan battle. No one ever speaks of it and I wasnae here when it occurred to ken the details of it, ye ken.”

“I can’t accept these. They aren’t mine. I have several items in my backpack if you'll be kind enough to get it for me.”

The girl looked at her with horror. “Now ye’ll not be wearing any of yer clothing if it looks anything like that. Ye are to be mistress of the house soon and Zarik and Niall would not have ye looking as though ye were to be paid for services. Ye get my meaning?” She eyed Tsarina.

“I’m not a paid whore.” The girl gasped and Tsarina almost wished that she’d have held her tongue. Almost. “These aren’t my clothing. Won’t it stir up unpleasant memories?”

“Don’t ye be worrying on it. They’ve sat and not been used for a number of years. It’s nice to see them being used. The MacKinnon says they’ve sat far too long.”

Tsarina reached over to touch the fine fabric. Clothing in her time was not made like this. Perfect material. Soft. Expensive. She’d have to pay a fortune for silk clothing.

“’Tis beautiful. Is it not?” The maid looked pleased that Tsarina was responding. “Now let’s get ye in that bath and dressed for dinner. Yer hair looks more than a little tangled.”

“What’s your name?”

“Igrid, m’lady.” She curtsied slightly and went back to gathering soap and items for Tsarina’s bath.