Highlander Unleashed

Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

Fraud. Charlotte didn’t like the word. Much less did she want to apply it to herself. How else to describe, though, what she had been doing? Making excuses, fabricating stories, inventing people who didn’t exist…

She looked around the table where they had just finished taking their noonday meal. Even if Simon and his father weren’t exactly welcoming—and she understood their wariness, given the times and her name—they had still extended Highland hospitality and taken her in. Greer had accepted her and Niall had been… Well. Niall had every characteristic she’d ascribe to one of fictional heroes. Not only did he fit the physical description for a book cover—handsome, muscular, sexy…he oozed masculinity—but he also fit the attributes of a hero. He was protective, caring, concerned, and honorable.

He didn’t deserve to be deceived. But she couldn’t very well sit him down and tell him she was from the twenty-first century. She paused, her writer’s imagination running away with her. Could she? Could she tell him? If she had proof? Maybe she needed to go back to the banks of River Ness and see if she could find some sort of portal. If she could show him a Time portal, maybe she could convince him of the massacre that was going to take place on April 16.

She gave herself an inward shake at being so absurd. If she could find the Time portal—but if it truly wasn’t Brigadoon descending once every hundred years, she would no doubt be cast as some sort of witch. And that would have dire consequences. She’d be joining the ranks of the deceased.

So, better to stick to the plot line she was manufacturing. At least, it was somewhat plausible. However, if Niall ever found out… She closed her eyes momentarily. She didn’t want to go there. Couldn’t go there.

“Are ye feeling ill, lass?” Niall asked.

She blinked. “I’m fine. My eyes were just burning.” Another lie.

“Ye’re sure ye weren’t overcome by the conversation?” Simon asked. “Greer is used to it, but ye are nae from these parts.”

Conversation? She hadn’t been listening. “I—”

“Never ye mind,” Greer interrupted. “It seems men canna stop talking about war and death.”

“Death?”

“Numbers.” Greer grimaced. “’Tis nothing to be proud of.”

“Ye are nae proud that we kill King George’s men rather than have them kill us?” Simon asked. “Ye doona think Lord Murray’s rout at Stirling a success? That he can now advance on to Perth?”

Their father chuckled. “I would wager General Hawley will be a wee bit surprised when seven thousand Scots advance on him at Perth.”

Simon nodded. “’Twould be a quick victor for us if Hawley doesna ken we are coming.”

Greer rolled her eyes. “Can ye not think of something else to talk about?”

“Aye,” Niall said, his voice sounding hard. “I doona think Charlotte cares to hear about Scots’ war strategy.”

His father gave him a level look, one that Charlotte couldn’t decipher but instinctively felt was some sort of unspoken message. Simon, too, was practically boring a hole into Niall with his stare. Maybe she had missed something important. If she were going to be any help at all in this century, she would have to start paying attention to which battles the Scots were engaging in and where.

They’d been talking about death? What they didn’t know was how many of them would die at Culloden if she couldn’t prevent that battle from happening.

****

Fate did indeed work in mysterious ways. For the past few days, Charlotte had pondered a way to get back to Inverness and be able to revisit the area near the river where she had last been in the twenty-first century. If she found a portal, maybe then she could convince Niall she knew the Scots would be defeated by the English if they continued their Cause because she knew the outcome.

The opportunity had presented yesterday when Niall’s father announced they’d be going into the city this morning and asked if she’d like to come along. Greer had gone into Beauly for her weekly meeting with the local vicar to see which neighbors might be in need of help, so Charlotte was left at odds.

“You’re awfully quiet this morning,” she said to Niall a short time later after they’d settled in the carriage and the driver had put the horses to a brisk trot.

“My brother broods a lot,” Simon said from the seat facing them. “Pay him nae mind.”

In the little over a week that she’d been with the Frasers, she didn’t think Niall was the broody sort, although right now he gave his brother a dark look.

“I have a problem—not of my own making—that I need to solve,” he said.

“The problem is ours to solve,” his father said.

“Can I help?” Charlotte could have sworn Simon started to grin but quickly sobered when Niall glared at him. Their father guffawed loudly.

“’Tis a family matter,” Niall said between clenched teeth. “A wee bit of an argument we had earlier.”

“Oh.” She wasn’t quite sure what else to say. “I…didn’t mean to intrude.”

“Intrude? That’s an interesting word choice,” Simon said.

Charlotte furrowed her brow. “It is? I just meant I don’t want to interfere with your lives.”

“Ye are nae interfering, lass.”

The look Niall gave his brother was one Charlotte couldn’t decipher, but a message was definitely being relayed. Was it a warning? Maybe he was telling his brother to say no more because it was a personal matter that Niall didn’t want her to know about. She didn’t need to pry.

They rode in mostly silence the rest of the short distance. When they alighted from the carriage, she was expecting Niall would accompany her since he had other times when they’d left the castle, so she was surprised to hear his father speak.

“If ye doona mind, Miss…MacGregor, the lads and I need to meet with our solicitor. Can ye manage by yourself for an hour or so?”

Fate certainly seemed to be doing her all sorts of favors today. “Of course. I’ll not wander far.”

Niall opened his mouth, about to say something, when Simon nudged him. “Come along, brother. Ye ken we shouldna be late for our appointment.”

He hesitated a moment, then nodded. “We willna be long, lass.”

“An hour,” Simon countered. “At least.”

“Do not worry,” Charlotte answered. “I can manage by myself.”

Niall gave her another look she couldn’t decipher, then followed his brother and father. She watched them until they disappeared around a corner onto a side street and then turned back to the river. She shaded her face with her hand to avoid the glare of the water and squinted, not sure what she was looking for. Some sort of mist hovering? Maybe an unusual light effect? No, that would be too obvious. Besides, she hadn’t gone into the river.

She chided herself for being so silly and walked to the spot where she had stood before joining the dancers. The ground felt solid. Her surroundings didn’t shimmer. There were no tiny light specks dancing in the air like faeries. Stop that! Her writer’s imagination was running amok again. She wasn’t writing a story about Scottish folklore, for heaven’s sake, or a passage to the Otherworld. She was looking for a real portal, one that she had somehow moved through. But where was it? She glanced around, looking at the area where the stranger had appeared to Vi and then over to the place where Thea had gone to help the fallen man. Nothing but ordinary people going about their daily business.

She made her way down closer to the river, where the dancing had taken place. She’d already covered this area before, but she’d been in the company of the Frasers and she could have missed something. This time, she paused every few feet to look around and tried to sense anything “different” but all seemed normal. Sighing, she sat down on a bench on the river bank to contemplate.

“Do ye mind if I share the bench for a minute or two?”

Startled, Charlotte looked around to see a young, auburn-haired woman about her own age smiling at her. She wore a simple dress of pale blue wool with a darker sash and no apron, so Charlotte assumed she probably worked in one of the shops. Maybe taking a break. She looked vaguely familiar, but Charlotte couldn’t place her. She indicated the open space beside her. “Certainly. Please sit.”

“Thank ye. This is a favorite spot of mine.” The girl sat. “My name is Bridgid.”

“I’m Charlotte.”

Bridgid inclined her head and then gave her a curious look. “If ye’ll forgive me for asking, I saw ye stop several times on your way over. Are ye looking for something?”

Well, yes. A passageway to the twenty-first century. Would you know where it is? Charlotte felt a by-now frequentbubble of hysteria trying to rise in her throat and swallowed hard. If she had been watched, maybe she should come up with some sort of excuse. “I…thought I’d dropped a trinket last time I was here.”

“When was that?”

“Ah… Hogmanay, actually.” She waved her hand. “I’m sure it’s long gone by now, but I thought I’d look anyway.”

“Hogmanay.” The girl smiled again. “’Tis always a special time for gift-giving. Mayhap ye did someone a good turn.”

“I hadn’t thought of it that way.” Although the girl couldn’t possibly know, perhaps traveling through Time had been a gift after all. Charlotte smiled back. “I hope the trinket is in good hands then.”

“I have a feeling it is.” The girl stood. “I’d best be on my way then.”

Charlotte nodded. “I’m glad you came by.”

“Aye, ’tis always good to sit and reflect by the water.” She inclined her head and then walked away.

Charlotte turned back to the water. Reflection was a good idea. Maybe she hadn’t lied after all. Maybe she was the trinket that had been lost or found and was now in the hands of Niall Fraser.

****

Niall felt like a complete eejit hidden in the alleyway across from the river’s bank, watching Charlotte. While he had done his share of lurking behind things in order to be privy to Government conversations, he didn’t like spying on the lass.

“I hope ye both will be satisfied when we’re done with this,” he told his father and brother, who stood behind him. “’Tis shameful what we’re doing.”

“Ye willna say that if it turns out she has an accomplice in Inverness,” his father said.

“Aye, and if she puts Frasers in danger,” Simon added.

Niall grunted. “She has nae done anything with the lie ye told her about our men moving toward Perth.”

“When has she had the opportunity before today?” his father asked.

“My point exactly,” Niall responded. “If she truly were sent by the colonel or other Campbells or Grants, she would have made some excuse to get to Inverness to relay the information to her courier as quickly as possible.”

“That might make her look suspicious,” Simon said. “She would know she had a bit of time to relay the message since it takes an army days to travel.”

His father nodded. “Aye. ’Twould be devious of her.”

If anyone knew about being devious, it was his father, but Niall bit back the words.

“She’s looking for someone,” Simon said, interrupting his thoughts.

Niall turned back to see what his brother was talking about. Charlotte stood not far from where they’d left her, her hand raised over her eyes as she scanned the street. “Mayhap she is just trying to get her bearings to decide which way to go.”

“Or she’s looking for someone.”

Sometimes his brother could be really pigheaded. Niall glowered at him. “Ye’ve already said that. ’Tis nae harm in looking about.”

“Now what is she doing?” his father asked.

He turned back again and then furrowed his brows as he watched. Charlotte had started walking toward the river rather than to the shops. She was also stopping every few steps to look around.

“She’s looking for someone,” Simon said again.

Niall resisted the urge to plant his fist in his brother’s face. “It seems to me she’s looking at the ground, ye eejit.”

Simon considered. “Mayhap she’s hoping her henchman will find her if she lingers by the river. It’s crowded along the street.”

Niall took a deep breath. He supposed he shouldn’t entirely blame Simon for his scrutiny. He had trained with their uncle Charles of Inverallochy and, as the older brother, would be the one to lead the Lovat Frasers when they were called on by the prince. Niall would join them, but as the second son, he wouldn’t be the one making decisions.

Charlotte had taken a seat on a bench by the river and was gazing over the water. “It seems to me the lass is just relaxing.”

“Hmmm.” Simon came alongside him and then perked up, rather like a pointer dog finding a bevy of quail. “Someone is approaching her.”

“Aye. A woman,” Niall said dryly. “Do ye suspect her too?”

Instead of answering, Simon focused. Their father took another step forward as well. Niall frowned at both of them and then watched as the other woman sat down on the bench and began to talk with Charlotte. They were too far away to hear what was being said, of course, but it seemed like normal conversation to him. It didn’t take long, though, before the other woman got up and left.

Simon turned to their father. “What do ye think, Da?”

The older man narrowed his eyes. “I think we need to find out who the other lass is.”

“I agree. I’ll follow her.” Simon gave Niall a quick look and then was gone.

Niall sighed. “Da. Ye doona actually think that other woman is a spy?”

His father shrugged. “Why nae? If the Campbells sent a lass to spy for them, why nae have her accomplice be a female too?”

He practically sputtered. “’Tis ridiculous.”

His father turned his full attention on Niall. “Is it, son? Think on it. The lass swoons in your arms. Ye bring her home. Her story is that two of her women friends helped her escape a marriage she doesna want. ’Tis very odd that her friends would just abandon her. We have nae been able to find those women.” He paused. “Mayhap that was one of them.”

“I doona think—”

“Precisely, son. Ye doona think.” His father smirked. “At least, nae with the head that is on your shoulders.”

Niall opened his mouth to respond, then clamped it shut. He didn’t want to get into that discussion.

Apparently, his father did. “Ye are besotted with the Campbell lass and ye canna think straight.”

“I am nae besotted!”

“Mayhap ye should just tup her and have it over with,” he continued as if he hadn’t spoken.

Somehow, Niall managed not to strike his father. “I willna take advantage of her.”

His father shook his head. “Ye always were too damn honorable.”

He bristled. “I didna ken that was a bad thing to be.”

“To a degree. The lass poses a danger if ye canna keep your thinking straight.” His father eyed him. “Remember Samson and Delilah?”

“Charlotte is nae Delilah.”

“But are ye as trusting as Samson?”

Niall wasn’t about to get into a Biblical discussion. “So what are ye really saying, Da? That ye want to turn Charlotte out on the streets? I’ll nae agree.”

The older man grinned. “Ye are only proving my point that ye are besotted with the girl.” His expression turned thoughtful as he looked back to where Charlotte was still sitting. “However, I agree we need to keep the lass with us. If she is a spy, we’ll learn it soon enough.” He turned to leave. “And then we can use her.”

Naill watched his father walk away, not liking either what he’d said or the tone he’d used. He was all too aware of how his father “used” people. He wouldn’t let that happen to Charlotte. He stepped out from the alley into the sunshine and started to make his way to Charlotte.

When they got home, Simon would have found out who the other woman was and that would be the end to this spy nonsense. No more questions or suspicion.

And he was not besotted. He was not.

****

The short ride back to Castle Dounie felt like a journey of a hundred miles. Charlotte had been quiet as if reflecting on something. Niall wanted to ask what that “something” was, just to assure himself it had nothing to do with the conversation she’d had with the young woman on the bench. Charlotte hadn’t even mentioned the incident, which he wasn’t sure was a good thing or a bad thing.

Then there was his brother. He’d been grim and tight-lipped ever since he’d met them at the carriage for the ride home. Niall couldn’t decipher the reason, either. If Simon had discovered that the young woman had turned out to be a Campbell or a Grant, wouldn’t he have looked happy that he might be right about her being a messenger? His dour expression also could be because he’d been wrong. In which case, Niall would tell him—and their father—that he wanted to hear no more accusations against Charlotte.

The midday meal was ready when they got home, so Niall had to wait an agonizing additional hour while they ate and Greer filled them in on which neighbors were having problems. Then a missive arrived letting their father know that the siege at Stirling had been partially successful—the town had surrendered, but the castle remained in English hands. They’d retreated to the council room to discuss the implications of that, which took another hour. Finally, after the Fraser man who’d brought the missive left, Niall turned to his brother.

“What did ye find out this morn?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?” Of all the responses from Simon that Niall had mulled over, he’d not considered that one. “What do ye mean, nothing?”

“I couldna find the girl.”

“Ye couldna find—” Naill changed to a question. “How could ye nae find her? She was nae that far ahead of ye.”

Simon scowled at him. “When I got to the corner and turned, she was gone.”

“Gone?” He was beginning to sound like a parrot, but he couldn’t help himself. “What do ye mean, gone?”

“Gone.” Simon’s scowl deepened. “G-O-N-E. Vanished. Not anywhere to be seen. Do ye get the meaning?”

“I ken what ‘gone’ means, brother.” Niall frowned. “How could ye lose her? ’Tis nae market day. The streets were nae that crowded. Did ye look into the shops?”

“Do ye think me daft? Of course I did.”

“She couldna just have vanished.”

“She might have,” their father said, “if she had someone waiting to sprint her away.”

“Aye, I thought of that,” Simon said. “It would make sense if she were waiting for Charlotte to appear.”

Niall managed—just barely—to keep from swearing at both of them. “I think ye are both barmy, but for the sake of argument… How would the woman know that Charlotte would be coming into Inverness?”

“We told the lass yesterday that we would be going in this morning,” his father answered. “That would give her ample time to send a message.”

Niall couldn’t believe his ears. “With whom, Da?”

His father shrugged. “A stable lad, most likely, but it could be just about any of the green lads that work here. She’s quite bonnie.”

Simon snickered. “Aye. They all do eye her when she walks by.”

His blood stirred slightly and he felt a momentary pang of…jealousy?. He had noticed the lads acted like mooncalves around Charlotte, and he didn’t much like the fact that they did, but he’d never seen her taking notice or interacting with any of them. He’d not seen cause to worry. Certainly not to be jealous, for God’s sake. He wasn’t. He was just reacting to his brother’s ridiculous prattle.

“Ye are fabricating stories out of thin air.”

“Mayhap,” Simon said, “but even if she didn’t sent a message, a courier would ken to wait until she showed up. They’d agree to a designated spot where the courier could blend in and it would not seem out of the ordinary to meet.”

“Like the shopping area where women go all the time,” his father added, “and then the bench at the riverside. No attention would be drawn to one woman talking to another while taking in the view.”

“I think both of ye are letting your imaginations go wild,” Niall said. “Neither of ye have any proof.”

“Did ye notice that Charlotte nae mentioned the meeting?” Simon asked.

“She probably didna think it important.”

“Or she hoped no one had seen her.”

“How did the other woman just disappear if someone were nae waiting to whisk her away once she had a message to convey?” his father asked. “And, remember, we deliberately fed information to Charlotte so there would be a message to deliver.”

Simon looked at Niall, not without sympathy for once. “The logical conclusion, brother, is that the English have planted a spy in our midst.”

Their father nodded in agreement. “And the best way to keep an eye on a spy is to keep her nearby.” He grinned suddenly. “That rhymed.”

“Do ye think this is a game, Da?”

“Nae.” His father sobered. “But if the lass has been sent to relay information about our plans, then we need to let her do that. With the wrong information, of course.”

Niall clamped his mouth shut and didn’t answer. He didn’t want to believe that Charlotte was a spy. Wouldn’t believe it. It couldn’t be.