To Win a Highland Scot: A Time-Traveler’s Highland Love, Book 3 Read online

  Heidi saluted, grinning. "Oh, yes, you'll see me for sure. I'll probably beat you there since you're working this afternoon, but I'll have a wine waiting for you."

  "Thank you. Seeya, ladies," she said, striding out into a passage that led toward the great hall. Maya found Mrs. Holmes ordering a bevy of men to remove the Perspex from several tapestries in the great hall, her deep frown showing her concern, not to mention she was hovering over the men's work like a panicked mother hen.

  "Do you need any help?" Maya asked, coming to stand beside Mrs. Holmes and watching as three men worked on the Fae tapestry she loved so much.

  "Oh, Maya, just the girl I wanted to see. You'll be with me today. We've roped off the Great Hall, the tourists can walk past the hall, but they canna enter. I'm sure they will not mind since they'll see the restoration of sorts that we're doing. No point in looking at the tapestries when you can't see the actual needlework."

  "I would love to help you. What would you like me to do?"

  Mrs. Holmes pointed toward several buckets and cleaning items. "Once the Perspex is down, we'll need to clean and dry them thoroughly. The men will come back later today to put the Perspex back up, so we won't have them waiting around for us to finish, but we'll try and get this done today."

  "Of course," Maya said, inspecting the cleaning items before turning to watch as another group of men had the first Perspex down. It was not her favorite tapestry, but another work that depicted a lady looking out over the ocean from Druiminn's Castle walls, but she was turned toward the artist, a cheeky grin on her face as if she was laughing at something that was said behind her.

  "I know you love the Fae tapestry, but this is my favorite," Mrs. Holmes said, staring up at the work now free from its plastic bonds. It had faded of course, they all had over the hundreds of years since they had been sewn, but they were all still so beautiful.

  "Who is this of?" Maya asked, unable to look away from the striking woman grinning back at them all from the tapestry.

  "Her name was Abigail, but everyone from historical records called her Abby. She married Aedan Macleod, laird here in 1601. It is rumored she was from foreign shores, but nobody really knew for certain which ones. I've always thought she has an air of mischief and knowledge about her that you doona often see in paintings or tapestries. Like she knows something we do not."

  Maya had to agree. The woman looked so happy, like the tapestry had caught a moment in time, similar to a photo today. "She's very beautiful. Is this the same woman in the painting in the upstairs gallery? The large one, over the fireplace?"

  "Oh aye, the very same. Laird Macleod and Abigail were a love match. Devoted to each other to their very last days. He had many portraits commissioned of her."

  How lovely to have found a love such as they had and in 1601. Not the easiest time in history to be a woman or wife to a man with such responsibilities. Scotland's history was as savage and as rough as the highland mountains.

  "Right now," Mrs. Holmes said, cutting into her thoughts. "Enough of the past, let us finish our jobs so we may enjoy our weekend. I know you wish to get to the tavern and enjoy a night out with your friends."

  "Are you doing anything this weekend, Mrs. Holmes?"

  "Nay, just a spot of gardening and cleaning up around the yard. The usual."

  Maya smiled at the older woman before rinsing out her cloth and wiping the Perspex, ensuring it was spotless and free from any smears. They worked for several hours. The large, rectangular-shaped Perspex covers were dustier than Maya had assumed them to be when they were on the wall. They placed the ones that were finished in front of the tapestries they belonged to before Maya turned to the last Perspex that needed to be cleaned.

  Mrs. Holmes stood, clutching her back as she came into a standing position. The older woman looked tired and pained from the day's work. Maya took pity on her. "I can finish this one, Mrs. Holmes, if you wish to head home. I'll let the laird’s staff know that I'm leaving, and they can lock up the rooms they have open to the public."

  Mrs. Homes didn't look sure, and Maya smiled, trying to put her at ease. "Truly, I'm more than happy to finish this one alone. It'll only take me an hour at most, and I'll be done. You head off, enjoy your weekend, and I'll see you on Monday."

  "You're rostered on for tomorrow. Are you sure you doona want me to stay and finish this one? I doona have to be back here until Monday."

  Maya waved her concerns away, rinsing out her cloth. "It's no trouble at all. I love being here, and at this time of the evening, it's lovely and quiet. I can almost picture myself as the lady of the manor, going about her chores in the house."

  Mrs. Holmes chuckled, stretching out her back yet again before throwing her cleaning rag into the bucket beside her. "I am aching a little, so if you're sure? I doona want to leave you in the lurch."

  Maya shook her head. If she showed she was willing to go the extra mile while working for the laird during their busy season, perhaps it would lead to a full-time position. She would love to live and work here full time. One of the most beautiful places in the world, without a doubt. "Not at all. You go. I'll finish soon enough. You enjoy your weekend."

  Without further prompting, Mrs. Holmes picked up her bucket and started for the door. "Thank you, Maya. You're a real asset to this estate. I canna thank you enough."

  Maya smiled, bidding Mrs. Holmes goodnight before turning the Perspex and scrubbing it. She finished the last cover within the hour, placing it before the tapestry for the men to rehang tomorrow. It took her minutes only to empty her bucket and pack away the cleaning products they had used.

  She entered the Great Hall, tidied up the chairs, a few display items that were moved during the day's work, and put the room back to rights before leaving. Standing in the central hall, she was amazed as she looked up at the tall stone walls, the dais at the end of the room that so many lairds had sat, ate, and laughed with their people. It was a magical feeling. It wasn't hard to imagine times of old, the people, the music, and laughter that must have passed within these walls.

  Maya wasn't sure what it was about this place, but she felt like she was coming home the moment she had arrived at Druiminn Castle. That this was where she was supposed to have always been. Not Kent. Not England. But here, the Isle of Sky, the Highlands. Scotland.

  She walked over to her favorite tapestry, studying the masterpiece yet again. This one was lifelike, almost like a photo, and the laird in this time was so handsome with his cutting features, his build worthy of a romance book. They rarely made men like that in her time. Not that she had been looking much these days. Men, in general, had been a disappointment, and so she had decided to concentrate on herself and no one else. Make herself happy before attempting to make others so.

  The castle was quiet, not a breath of wind or a creak to be heard. Maya frowned, looking about the hall when a shiver stole down her spine. The sense that the castle was waiting for something, someone, trembled through her.

  She crossed her arms, hugging herself and looking again to see if anyone was about. There was no one there, and she shook her head, disregarding her silly notions. Not that it would surprise her to find the castle to be haunted, but she didn't believe in those sorts of things.

  With a sigh, she turned back to the tapestry, the urge to feel it, just once, overwhelming. If the laird found out, she would be sacked on the spot, her dream of living and working here full time over.

  And yet, she was alone, there were no security cameras…

  A voice in her head taunted her, told her to touch it. That this was her only chance. It could be years before they took the covers off again. With a need, a yearning that burned through her body, she reached out, wanting to touch the handsome laird.

  With a will of its own, her hand would not stop, and then, finally, the pad of her finger touched the tapestry, the silk thread soft and smooth to the touch. "Beautiful," she gasped on a breath. And then everything changed.

  The room spun, voices echoed,
faces she could not recognize came in and out of view.

  What is happening to me?

  Fear froze her to the spot. She tried to run toward the door, but the room turned at an increasing rate, making it impossible to flee. Something bad was happening—something she couldn't control.

  She screamed for help, but even though her mouth was open, and her mind shouted the words, no sound emerged. What had she done! Why did she touch the tapestry!

  So, this was how she would die, her final thought before the blackness enfolded her, and there was nothing.

  Nothing at all.

  Chapter 2

  Druiminn Castle 1510, Scotland

  Maya scrunched up her face as the odor of wet dog woke her, along with the stench of rotten breath. She cracked her eyes open the smallest bit to see where she was. What met her vision wasn't at all what she expected.

  A large wolfhound, panting before her face, stared and sniffed her head. She didn't move for fear of frightening the dog and causing it to react.

  Gone were the stone flagstone floors with soft Aubusson rugs upon them, and in their place were hard, musty-smelling rushes. She sat up, looking about the room, her mind telling her it was the same place she worked, the same walls, dais, and fireplace, but there were so many things different about it too.

  The fine furniture she polished was no more. Rough, handmade benches ran up and down the length of the room. The dais, a polished, darker wooden table, sat before the fire at one end. Two large high-back chairs lined up behind it.

  Voices met her ears, men's voices in particular, and fear prickled down her spine, but when she went to move, she could not. Her limbs, buttery and weak, refused to work.

  Like a nightmare, she watched as men and women entered the hall, some ignoring her presence altogether while others gave her a curious stare before seating themselves.

  A woman in a gray, woolen dress bustled into the room, a bevy of women behind her, all carrying trays with a profuse amount of food. They set them on each table, another group of servants following those carrying trays and laying down wooden plates and spoons.

  One of the servants whispered something in the older woman's ear, and she turned, her eyes widening at the sight of Maya.

  "Och, and who are you, may I ask?" The woman came to stand before her, her hands settling on her wide hips.

  "I, ah," Maya croaked, her mind not wanting to believe what she was starting to think had happened to her, but there was nothing else for it. No other explanation. Had she just time traveled? There wasn't any way in hell Mrs. Holmes could pull off such a trick and so quickly unless they drugged her in some way, and she’d been out of it for days. That was unlikely. Mrs. Holmes was a kind woman, no prankster.

  "I'm Maya Harris."

  At hearing her voice, the occupants of the hall stopped and turned, looking at her with something akin to disdain. Maya shut her mouth, pushing herself back against the wall and wishing it would open up and swallow her whole. Or better yet, return her home.

  Why had she touched the tapestry? Stupid, curious fool.

  The tapestry must have been what sent her here. Could it return her home? She looked up at the wall where it hung, but found nothing but bare stone staring back at her. No tapestry, no nothing that could help her return to her time. There were several large spikes and swords. Maybe they could at least keep her safe if these people turned on her.

  "You are English. What are you doing in Druiminn Castle? I doona think I hired you as help, so I'm curious to know what you are seeking here, lass?"

  Maya thought over her reply. She had to be careful. If she were kicked out, then where would she go? What would she do? The castle must hold the key in getting her back to her time, and she had to stay here to enable that.

  "I fell and hit my head when I entered the hall. I traveled here from England. I'm looking for work." It was all she could think of to say, and absurd as it sounded when speaking it aloud, there was little she could do to change her fate. "I'm sorry I'm a little confused." Maya leaned forward, electing the same response from the older lady who seemed to be in charge. "May I ask what year this is?"

  The woman's demeanor changed, and then everything happened quickly after her words. The older woman reached down, clasping her arm and dragging her up and out of the hall. She took her into a small room that sat alongside the Great Hall, shutting them both inside. This was used as a small linen closet in her time. Now, however, it held a different purpose. The room had a window and a small desk, a lone candle burning on the bureau with a few papers scattered about.

  "You are a time walker then. Well, ’tis good to meet you, Maya Harris. We have been waiting a long time for your arrival."

  Maya frowned, her stomach roiling at the absurdness of what the older woman had said. The past fifteen minutes were the most impossible of her life. "A what? What is a time walker?" She had never heard of such a thing, and she was certainly not one. Nothing so impossible had happened to her in the past. Nothing ever happened to her at all.

  Nothing exciting anyway.

  “You are not from our time, if I have that correct. Your clothing states as much, and your hair. Mayhap your skin is as clean and fresh as the day you were born, I imagine. Had you lived in our time, traveled from England as you state, no such thing would be possible.” The woman stepped back, studying her. “What time have you traveled from, lass? What brought you here?”

  Maya chewed her bottom lip while her mind frantically fought to calm down. “I’m from the twenty-first century. I was working at Druiminn, but in my time. I…” She rubbed her head, her thoughts a jumble. “I touched a tapestry and then I woke up in the hall below. That’s all I remember.”

  “Hmm,” the woman said, nodding slowly. “Well, that you were gifted with such a journey tells me that you are the one whom the laird has been waiting for. Even if the stubborn lad doona know it.” She smiled at Maya and a little of Maya’s concern dissipated. She seemed like a nice woman, and looked to be trying to help her.

  “What am I going to do? The tapestry that I touched isn’t in the hall. I thought if I touched it again it may send me back. Do you know of any in the castle?” Maya looked about, not seeing any wall hangings in this room either.

  “Nay, there are several paintings, but no tapestries, not as yet in any case. I do believe the laird has one being made, but that is several months from completion.”

  Maya let out a frustrated breath. This was hopeless. What if this laird was cruel and unkind? What if he did not trust her and killed her on the spot? She was too young to die. And she certainly didn’t want to die via a sword or hanging. Oh dear God, did they hang people in Scotland in this time?

  "All will be well, lass. You doona need to look so frightened. We must have your attire changed and come up with a story for your past before the laird meets you." The older woman frowned, studying Maya as if she were some kind of otherworldly being. "I'm Mrs. Fletcher, the head housekeeper here at Druiminn Castle. I've worked for the family for many years since I was a lass of your age or younger. A position that has been passed down through my family since the laird lost his wife many years ago."

  "What is the year, Mrs. Fletcher?" Maya pressed, needing to know as much as she needed air to breathe.

  "It is the year of our Lord, fifteen hundred and ten, Maya lass. Tell me what year it is that you have traveled from?"

  She slumped down on a nearby chair, her legs refusing to hold her upright any longer. "How do you know that I have traveled from anywhere, except England as I said? Is it so obvious that I’m not a local?"

  "Oh, I've seen and heard many a tale about time walkers, the Fae, superstitions that would keep your pretty head awake forever and a day. I know a time walker when I see one, and I believe you are one of those. Now, no more nonsense. Tell me what year, and then we can decide what to do about it, if anything. Or at least try to work out what you being here means."

  "Does it have to mean anything?" Maya asked, her stomach r
oiling with nerves. Would she ever be able to travel home? Would she ever see her friends again? Experience indoor plumbing? Dear Lord, what would she do without a toilet!

  She took in the room. There was no overhanging light, no light switch, all the modern conveniences the castle had in her time were stripped and gone. Surely this sort of thing, time travel, wasn't possible. And certainly not something that happened to people such as herself. Nothing ever happened to her that was remarkable.

  "It's 2021 where I'm from. As I said, I work at Druiminn Castle as a cleaner during the holiday season. The current laird, Richard Macleod opens up his estate and grounds to the public for them to tour." The truth bubbled out of her, no matter that Mrs. Fletcher's face had paled to a deathly gray. "I came up to Scotland to work. I've seen the laird from afar, but I have yet to meet him. He's happily married with children."

  "There is a laird still in your time? Five hundred years from now, there is a Laird Macleod?" the older woman squeaked, clapping her hands, a smile breaking out on her face. "Och, ’tis good news, lass. It means our laird, Boyd Macleod, breaks the curse that has ailed him these hundred years."

  "What?" Maya stood, stepping away from the older lady. "He's cursed and been living for over a hundred years?" How old was this laird? If he were over a hundred years, he must look like a walking corpse by now. Maybe she had hit her head harder than she thought. Or the housekeeper had. Who believed in curses? Only crazy people, right? But then, she was standing in a room, had seen people already with her own eyes who defied reality, so who really was the crazy person…

  Mrs. Fletcher held out her hand in a placating kind of way, trying to stem her fears. "Boyd Macleod’s age has been frozen in time since the Fae Queen cursed him to find a love greater than the one he had with his wife. The woman they took from him. Of course, our laird loved dearly and has never found another, nor would he, since he’s sworn himself to revenge, not life. Not a life with another that is."