English!
Before he could ask how this could be, the water roiled again and another head and pair of thrashing arms shot out. Hamish grabbed the second lad by his bright yellow cloak and tossed him next to the first. Before he was through snatching and tossing there were five gasping lads dressed in yellow at his feet.
Hands on his hips, he glared at the youths. In the language he’d learned at his grandmother’s knee but hadn’t used in more than a decade, Hamish growled, “Dinna just sit there gaping like besot asses gleaming yer first teats, laddies. Answer me. Who be ye?”
The tallest lad, all joints and long bones, scrambled backwards like a crab. “Who the hell are you?”
Affronted the whelp should use such language when addressing an elder, Hamish reached out, but before he could snatch him, the black-headed lad jumped up shouting, “Thespaniel! Where’s the spaniel?”
They all rose, shouting at once in obvious panic. The fair-haired lad pointed at the pool. “Look!Oh crap, oh crap …”
Having no idea what a spaniel might be, Hamish looked. The pool was roiling again and at its centre floated yet another lad, this one the largest yet, face down and lifeless. Cursing, Hamish jumped into the pool. Careful not to step off the hidden shelf at the edge ofthe pool because he couldn’t swim, he snagged the drowned lad’s legs and hauled him into his arms.
The yellow-clad lads drew close as Hamish strode from the water and dropped to his knees, draped their hapless companion head down over his lap and pressed hard on the lifeless lad’s back. On the second push water gushed from the lad’s mouth. Hamish pushed down again. More water rushed out, the boy gagged then finally gasped.
Greatly relieved, Hamish rolled the hapless lad face up and placed a hand over his heart. To his shock his palm rested not on bony rib as he’d fully expected but on something round and soft. A breast. Aye, he’d not been alone so long or grown so auld that he’d forgetthatparticular feel.
He scowled at the lads now kneeling around him. “’Tis a woman!”
The tall blond brushed a water-matted tress from the woman’s face. “No shit, Sherlock.”
The woman in his arms coughed, then sputtered, “Watch … your –” she coughed again “– language, Mr Elgin.”
The lads issued a rousing cheer as the womanSpanielstared up at him from bonnie brown eyes rimmed by thick spiked lashes. Liking the soft feel of her, the smooth contours of her oval face, the way her full lips were parted in surprise, he smiled. “Good day to ye, mistress.”
“Uhmm … Hello.” Her gaze then swung to the lads and her eyes grew larger still. She bolted upright, her arms reaching out to the lads. “Oh, God! Are you all OK?”
They clustered about her like hungry pups around their bitch, babbling excitedly in English but not in a manner Hamish had heard before.
Teeth chattering, Spaniel staggered to her feet and gave each lad a hug before looking about. Marvelling at the way her strange clothing clung to her lithe form, Hamish grinned. How could he have possibly thought her a lad? Ten summers were apparently far too long for a man to go without a woman.
He rose and she, clutching the closest lads to her sides, took several hasty steps back. “Who are you and where are we?”
He bowed. “Hamish MacDuff at ye service, and ye be in MacDuff glen.”
“And where is that exactly?”
He scowled, not understanding what more she needed to ken.
One of the lads whispered, “He looks like an escapee fromBraveheart.”
Spaniel signalled the lads to silence and smiling at him asked, “How far is it to Edinburgh?”
Sarah stood atop MacDuff’s watchtower and stared in utter disbelief at the small stone and wood fortress perched atop the huge stone promontory she knew as Castle Rock, upon whichshouldhave bristled formidable Edinburgh Castle. There was no city – old or new – no church spires, no anything but forest for miles and miles around her. Mouth dry, she stammered, “Wh … what year is this?”
At her side, Hamish MacDuff shrugged.
Deep breath, Sarah.
OK. If all she feared was true – that she wasn’t simply trapped in a ghastly dream but they’d truly time travelled – then the powerfully built giant at her side probably didn’t have a concept of time beyond the passing of seasons. “Do you know who lives there?”
“Aye. The Malcolm.”
Her heart nearly stopped at the mention of the eleventh-century kings.
“After the Norman war, the ravages of which ye can still spy yon,” he pointed to the blackened timber poking up through new growth, “Malcolm became ruler of this territory.”
Oh God. Lonely as she’d been of late she could well imagine herself concocting a dream about a beautiful glen and a handsome Highlander, but she seriously doubted she’d have included an explosion, nearly drowning and five rambunctious, pampered students. Which made all before her that much more frightening … and real. “Do you know the way there?”
