Page 4 of Proven By The Highlander (Highlander Forever #15)

CHAPTER 4

B ehind her, she heard the horse huff softly and shift its weight from leg to leg, and for a moment, the little scene was almost peaceful. Leanne studied the face of the sleeping man, curious despite herself. She could see his dark blond hair, long for a man, falling across his face, and even wrapped in the cloak she could tell he was a big guy. Maybe he was a historical reenactor or something? Those guys could get pretty weird, but they generally weren’t dangerous. Feeling a little braver as the fire warmed her outstretched hands, she shifted a tiny bit closer… then winced at the sound of a twig snapping beneath her feet. The sound made the horse stir behind her, and she closed her eyes, hoping like hell she hadn’t disturbed the sleeping man, too…

No such luck. He was sitting up in a heartbeat, a pair of sharp gray eyes widening as they took her in, and before he’d even reached a sitting position the crossbow she’d noticed was in his hands. With a squeak, she raised her hands in surrender, whole body tensing as she considered whether it was too late to make a run for it… but the man’s hostile expression had already shifted from outright panic to curiosity, and he lowered the crossbow almost as quickly as he’d lifted it.

“Sorry,” she heard herself say quickly, her voice shaking with cold and fear. “Sorry to wake you, I just — it’s cold and I thought I’d share your fire. Sorry.”

The man’s gray eyes were taking her in, narrowed a little with suspicion and scrutiny. She could see his chest rising and falling rapidly as he mastered the shock she’d given him, and she grimaced an apology. “Where are you from?” he asked suspiciously, and she couldn’t help but notice that he’d lowered the crossbow but hadn’t set it down. “Where are your people?”

“Uh, I work at the college,” she said blankly, a little unsure of how to answer the question. “My people? What do you mean?”

The man was still studying her, but something like recognition was beginning to dawn in his eyes. He must know the college. Most people did… then again, she wasn’t exactly in her own neighborhood right now, was she? “You’re soaked through,” the man said abruptly, after a long pause. “Here.” He reached into the pack beside him and withdrew a bundle of fabric, which he tossed across the fire to her. She caught it automatically, the fabric soft and dry against her damp hands, and unfolded it, realizing it was a shirt. Far too big for her, but she pulled it on gratefully anyway, glad to have another layer between herself and the cold.

“Thank you.”

“Get closer to the fire,” he said, gesturing toward the little blaze with the crossbow. Then, as if realizing he was still holding it, he sighed and set it down. “You’ll catch your death out here if you’re not careful, lass.”

That clinched it — she felt a smile break over her face as that final word confirmed her suspicions. “Your accent,” she said. “You’re Scottish.”

He looked bemused, as though she’d just stated the obvious. She supposed she had. “Of course, I am. What about you?”

“Uh, I’m from Iowa originally, but I’ve moved around a lot since then.”

The man narrowed his eyes a little, repeated the name of her home state like it was a foreign word.

“Iowa? Like… in America?”

“Ah,” the man said, nodding as though something had become suddenly clear to him. “There it is.”

Leanne couldn’t help but feel uneasy as she shifted closer to the little fire, the glow of warmth steadily chasing the chill from her trembling hands. Time to put the cards on the table — she couldn’t keep pretending she knew what was going on here. “This is going to sound pretty weird, but… where are we, exactly?”

The man was still studying her from the other side of the fire, readjusting his cloak — it was definitely a cloak, she could see that now — around his shoulders to keep the chill at bay. Underneath it, she could see that he was wearing a kilt with a brooch pinned to the tartan. “I’d imagine it’s going to be a long story, lass. We ought to start with names. I’m Caelan Grant.”

“Leanne,” she replied, frowning a little. “Leanne Orbach.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Leanne. You’re in Scotland.”

She waited for the punchline, but there didn’t seem to be one coming. Caelan’s face was still and resolute, as though he was waiting for her to disagree with him. She wanted to… but then again, did she have a better interpretation of the situation? There wasn’t a lake this size anywhere near where she lived. Whatever had happened to her, she must have traveled a fair distance. Was Scotland that much more unlikely than anywhere else? “Wild,” she said faintly. “Okay.”

The man huffed in something a little like laughter, though his expression quickly settled into a dour, thoughtful one again. “Do you have any idea how you got here?”

“Absolutely no theories at present,” she said brightly, shaking her head. “It’s been a weird hour or so for me, Caelan, I can tell you that much.”

He gestured an invitation for her to go ahead, and she found herself telling the whole story, right from the point where it had become unbelievable, all the way through to when it had become downright ridiculous. She kept wanting to laugh, kept wanting to add that the things she was saying were obviously impossible… but there was something about Caelan’s expression that stopped her. It was as though he’d heard everything she was telling him before. He did lean forward a little when she mentioned the glowing figures she’d dreamed about, though, his eyes suddenly curious.

“Could you make out anything else about them? Their features? Age? Gender?”

“Nothing,” she admitted with a grimace. “They were just — weird, glowing light people. I was still pretty sure I was dreaming. Until I realized I was underwater, that is.” She frowned, still not sure exactly how that transition had happened. “How did they… I mean, they pushed me through a door and then I was underwater. How does that even work? Not to mention how I got to the surface…”

“How?”

Despite his patience so far, she still found herself hesitating. “It’s going to sound stupid.”

“I promise it isn’t.”

Something about his face made her want to trust him. Was it just that he was good-looking? she wondered. The accent was sexy enough on its own, but add to that his clear gray eyes, his muscular frame, that jawline with just the right amount of stubble that he looked fetching without looking scruffy… she’d never taken much of an interest in men before, aside from a few short relationships and some deeply disastrous first dates, so it felt strange to have such clear thoughts of attraction in mind. Especially given the rest of the situation she was in. Was this a symptom of shock, maybe? Some other indication of whatever it was that was keeping her here in this bizarre dream?

“Something pulled me out of the water,” she said now, her mind straying back to that unbelievable memory. “Something the size of a plesiosaur.” The man looked absolutely blank at the word she’d chosen. “Like a dinosaur. A huge aquatic thing with a long neck?—”

“Ah,” the man said darkly, some flicker of recognition in his eyes. “You’ve met the beast, then.”

“The beast?”

“The Monster,” he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “The monster of Loch Ness.”