Highlander's Challenge (5 page)

He easily heaved his friend onto his horse. She did her best to ignore the feminine voice in her head, the one that was usually quiet as death, as it cheered the flexing muscles of his forearms and legs.

"I must have hit my head harder than I thought," she muttered, making her way to the stallion. 41

Highlander's Challenge

by Jo Barrett

Something about the lad bothered Colin. He was too fair of face, for one, and he was too puny to have unhorsed him so easily. And yet he'd done just that.

He growled softly as he tossed Ian the reins. "I'll wager the lad can hardly sit a horse," he grumbled.

"Now is not the best of times to taunt him, my friend," Ian said roughly, his voice showing signs of his pain. "You are not the one depending upon his horsemanship."

"The name is Tuck, and I know how to ride," the lad said snippily.

Colin snorted at his continued bluster. More mouth than muscle, yet he had fought alongside them and aided Ian. But did he have something to do with the ambush?

He watched the boy slip his foot into the stirrup and toss his leg over the horse. The lad's jaw clenched as he let out a silent hiss of air. He'd taken his share of blows during that last fight before winning. Colin admired his bravery against bigger and stronger opponents, and his determination to put Ian's welfare before his own. This was no whining stripling, but he refused to trust the lad as of yet. Satisfied with the boy's skill in the saddle, Colin mounted up. "Follow me." He kneed his horse into a steady gait toward home.

He'd been gone too long from Arreyder Castle, but his friend had asked him to accompany him to visit his sister who had recently made him an uncle. A prouder peacock could not be found, he was certain.

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Several months passed in Caroline's home while Ian strutted around the estate. When a missive arrived from Colin's father, he realized he'd stayed away too long. His duty lay before him at the end of the muddy road, at Arreyder Castle.

It was time to marry.

Regardless of Ian's remarks, he would do what was expected, what he'd planned for most of his life. He would not leave his future and the future of his clan to chance. Not as his friend did.

Ian Southernland had no direction in his life. As a younger son of an English gentleman, his father pressed him to seek a profession. Ian, however, always managed to sabotage his situation and was repeatedly sent back to his father. Now, a man who possessed an odd smattering of schooling from law to religion, he rode alongside Colin because he simply had nothing better to do.

Their unlikely pairing after a rather raucous brawl in a pub where they'd found themselves on the same side had lasted for almost three years. Together they'd found themselves in more than a scrape or two, and genuinely enjoyed one another's company. But today, for the first time in their acquaintance, Colin worried over his friend. A sensation long forgotten and one he did not care for in the least. He slowed his horse until he rode side by side with Ian and the lad. "How do you, mon?"

His friend smiled crookedly, sweat more pronounced upon his upper lip than before. "I have had better days." He 43

Highlander's Challenge

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swayed dangerously, but the stripling caught him tight to his chest.

Ian sucked in a sharp breath and straightened.

"Mind you take care, lad," Colin said, leveling his gaze on the boy. No one would harm his kith or kin. Not even a mouthy bairn with less fuzz on his cheeks than sense in his head.

Tuck returned his cold stare. "Let's pick up the pace, Sasquatch."

With a grumble, he moved ahead once more, and Tuck fell in behind.

"You okay?" she asked the Englishman.

"I believe I shall survive,
lad
." She sniffed at his tone. So, Prince Charming had finally figured out she wasn't a he. She'd seen the confusion on his face as he studied her closely earlier, yet he refused to believe his own eyes. It figured it would take feeling her breasts slammed into his back to do it.

"Tell me. Where did you learn to fight?" he asked.

"The army mostly."

He jerked his head around, his face twisted with confusion. She rolled her eyes at his obvious dislike of women in service and promptly changed the subject. "So, if you're not a prince, then who are you supposed to be?" she asked, curious as to whom he was portraying. She figured it was better than getting into one of those men versus women arguments or sitting here grinding her teeth about the brawny giant she couldn't seem to stop thinking about.

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He smiled, erasing the puzzled expression from his face.

"Now that is a rather daunting question, as it would depend on to whom you posed the query."

"Uh-huh. What's your name, hotshot?" He chuckled softly and attempted to hide his wince of pain. She tightened her grip on him, cursing herself for wasting his strength with conversation.

"I rather like the sound of that," he said taking a shallow breath. "Hotshot. Yes, I like it very well, but I doubt 'twas intended in a kind light."

"Name," she said with a shake of her head. How could he stay in character when he was bleeding all over his costume?

"Ian Southernland, at your service," he said with a mock bow followed by a somewhat deeper steadying breath. "And the one you so guilelessly called Sasquatch, another name I am certain 'twas not meant to be complimentary, is Colin MacLean."

It took her a second to connect the name to Arreyder Castle, the clan who built and lived at the massive fortress. But she could swear there had been no reenactments planned. She would've remembered that all too clearly. It would've drawn huge crowds and made her job ten times more difficult.

But you failed anyway
.

Ian carefully glanced back over his shoulder for several seconds, distracting her from the nagging voice.

"Amazing," he said with a hoarse whisper, then turned back around. "A female who can fight." 45

Highlander's Challenge

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"Yeah, well, you'll get over it. Now, stop talking and save your strength."

He chuckled roughly. "I can hardly wait to see Colin's face when he learns you're a woman. 'Twill be the most fun I've had in a great while."

She clamped her teeth together. "Yeah. A real barrel of laughs."

"What is your true name?"

She sighed, and said, "Amelia Tucker. But I prefer Tuck."

"Amelia. A beautiful name." He glanced over his shoulder again. "For a beautiful woman." She nearly choked on her snort of laughter. "Listen, buddy, you can cut the crap. Sucking up to me won't get you anything. I know who I am, what I am, and I don't need some nutcase Prince Charming trying to butter me up."

"Your speech is quite unusual. Where do you hail from, my lady?"

"Tuck. Not my lady, and I hail from the U.S. Now, quit talking."

"I am not familiar with this U—S. Is it far?" She shook her head with a low chuckle. "You're too much. Don't you ever get tired of this reenactment stuff?"

"If you are referring to our altercation, nay, I do not particularly care to relive the event, but one never knows what sort of cutthroats one will meet when traveling."

"Oh, I give up," she muttered.

He finally fell silent, and she knew he was struggling against the pain. She hoped he wouldn't pass out on her. He wasn't as big as Sasquatch, but big enough to make things 46

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difficult. If he conked out, she'd have a rough time keeping him in the saddle.

MacLean slowed his horse until they rode side by side once again. She watched him look Ian over carefully. He never said a word, but she could sense the worry he skillfully hid.

"Is it much farther?" she asked. They hadn't seen a single sign of civilization since they started down the road. It was eerie. She knew she couldn't be that far from Raghnall Castle, but couldn't understand why she'd seen nothing familiar. Not even a road sign. MacLean turned his amber eyes on her, suspicion written along the rough lines of his face. "Around the next bend," he said, pointing ahead of them.

She nodded. Good, much more riding and Ian was sure to fall out completely.

They rounded the corner and the trees lining the road ended abruptly. Her gaze followed the muddy rut up the hill to a fortress.

"What the—" The air rushed from her lungs. Arreyder Castle stood before her like a sentinel overlooking the sound. But where was the gift shop, the parking lot, the tourists?

People dressed in plaid and hard worn wool, many barefoot, gathered at the edge of the road, their curious eyes examining them as they made their way up the hill. Small cottages dotted the hill, and stood in the shadow of the massive fortress.

No, this had to be a different castle. There were several on the island, but she'd understood that all except Arreyder and 47

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Raghnall were in ruins. Maybe she was on another island. Yes, that had to be it.

She called after the Scot. "Hey, MacLean." Pulling Ian's horse up closer to his, she didn't miss the scowl he shot her.

"Where are we?"

He cocked his head, his brow furrowed. "You mean tae say you dinnae ken what's before your eyes?" With a grunt, he looked back to the road, muttering insults beneath his breath. She pulled the horse to a stop, frowning at his back. Ian's head bobbed slightly. "We are at Arreyder Castle," he said. "The home of the clan MacLean, and I hope to God, a soft bed for my weary bones."

Her mouth slid open as her eyes widened. "But that can't be. It isn't—it doesn't look—no, no, no. Something is very wrong here. You two are just jerking my chain, right?" He slumped over, distracting her from the mass of confusion in her head. Regardless of how determined these two were in keeping up this silly game, the man had a hole in his shoulder. That much was very real.

Gripping him tighter, she nudged the horse onward and followed MacLean through a large arched gate into the bailey. It couldn't be the same gate she'd walked through with Jenny several hours before. It just couldn't be. Her eyes darted from left to right, taking in everything, and finding more and more evidence to the contrary. A sickening tingle snaked down her spine.

"This isn't happening. This isn't real. I must have hit my head really hard on that fountain. I'm probably unconscious and in a hospital somewhere," she muttered. 48

Highlander's Challenge

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She squirmed slightly in the saddle, her wet jeans chaffing her legs. A very real sensation. Either she'd missed the bedpan or she was lying in a fountain half dead and delirious. It was the only logical explanation.

MacLean barked orders, nearly jarring her from her horse. People scattered and men came and took Ian from her tight hold. All Tuck could do was stare.

An older woman wrapped in a woolen shawl bustled out of the keep. "Colin, 'tis good tae have you home." Reaching up, she cradled his rough face in her hands and pecked him on the cheek.

"'Tis good tae be home, Elspeth, but Ian is wounded. We need tae tend him quickly."

"Ach, the poor lad. Take him tae his bed and be quick about it," she said, waving at the men. She spun to follow them and paused. Her eyes surveyed Tuck curiously. MacLean's eyes turned to her as well, and Tuck shivered. For the first time since she was a kid, she felt real fear. This was all too genuine to be a delusion. She felt the cold of the wind biting her cheeks, the smell of leather and horses teasing her nose, and the unintelligible chatter of Gaelic mixed with English from the people around her echoed in her ears. And there was blood, Ian's blood. She knew the smell, the feel, the taste all too well. No one could imagine such accuracy.

"Who is this then?" the woman asked. MacLean marched over to the stallion, snagged Tuck by the arm, and jerked her to the ground. She managed to land on her feet—barely—her body semi-numb with shock. 49

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"'Tis a lad with less brains than a newborn babe." He yanked her up to his face. "You will help Elspeth tend Ian's wound since you seem tae have the skill, but I'll be watching you."

Elspeth's fine brows rose, her lips pursed. "Lad, is it?" Snapping her scattered thoughts in line, Tuck tore her gaze from the lion's eyes and looked at the woman. "Take me to Ian."

Whatever was going on, the man needed a doctor, and as it looked, she was as good as he was going to get. Whether she was delirious and lying in a hospital bed or caught up in some lunatic reenactment party, she couldn't take a chance. She wouldn't risk a man's life in an imaginary world anymore than she would in a real one.

* * * *

Colin grumbled as he followed the strangely dressed boy and Elspeth. The lad was an undetermined, unpredictable part of a puzzle, and he sorely disliked puzzles. He entered Ian's bedchamber, the only home his friend had known these last years, just as Maighread finished removing his doublet and the remains of his shirt.

"That's fine, I'll take over," the lad said, and elbowed his way between her and Ian.

His cousin huffed, her eyes narrowing. "And who are you tae be ordering me about?"

Colin observed closely, curious to see how the boy would deal with Maighread. His cousin may be a bonny lass on the 50

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outside, but he knew there was more to her than she let the world see, having known her since she was a child. Never taking his eyes from Ian's shoulder, the lad said,

"Look, sister, I don't have time to play nice. Now, move."

"Sister? I'm not your sister, you oaf!" Although smaller than the boy, Maighread lifted her hand to cuff him smartly on the ear, but the lad snatched her wrist out of the air and shoved it away with lightening speed.

Maighread teetered on her feet, her mouth agape. Colin's cheek ticked, urging his grim lips to smile at his cousin's sudden loss of words. Not a sight he could ever recall having seen before, but he refrained from grinning. The lad may be quick, and he grudgingly admitted that he was agile, but he could not be trusted.