Page 23 of Highlander’s Captive

“Ye will stay locked up until ye talk.”

Chapter 7

Amy paced the barracks. She was now in the southeastern tower, not the one she’d come from.

Not the one she needed to get back to if she ever wanted to return home.

Craig had left her here the day before, and now a night had passed and another day, and he still hadn’t come.

Hamish had brought her food yesterday and taken out her chamber pot. And she knew there were guards on the other side of the door.

But she had screwed up. She had screwed up big time. She knew she was a terrible liar, and Craig—oh, smart Craig!—saw right through her.

Damn. She needed to find out more about how things worked here. It was the only way she could be convincing.

Her legs became more restless the longer she was here, tingles going through them in waves. Pacing the room helped to relieve the sensation, but her insides still quivered, and her stomach churned.

What would be the worst thing that could happen to her? Would Craig hold her here forever?

At least there were windows, beds. It was dry here and relatively clean. Amy sat in the deep alcove by the slit window and looked outside. The view was spectacular. She could see the village and the army that was still there.

Although, by the evening they had started to clean the horses, pack things into saddle bags, put barrels and crates onto carts, and generally bustled about. The army was probably leaving soon. It was for the best. Fewer eyes on Amy and more chances to get into the underground storeroom.

Amy gazed at the landscape. Groves with bare trees, brown patches of empty fields, hills and mountains as far as she could see. Yes, this was different from being in the barn, and it reminded her of Vermont in some way, which brought her comfort. She took a deep breath of fresh, cool air, almost sweet with the scent of rich soil and rotting leaves.

Nature and broad views always made her feel better. It was small, confined spaces she was afraid of. At least Craig hadn’t locked her up in a cellar.

But he was smarter than that. Or kinder. Because by keeping her here, he deprived some of the warriors of beds and a roof. Guilt stung Amy.

She looked through the contents of her backpack. Her phone, which she had already tried yesterday—and, of course, it was useless. The first aid kit. That might come in handy, but she’d need to be careful not to reveal any modern supplies that could bring questions. The flashlight had rolled under one of the beds in the eastern tower, and she’d forgotten to retrieve it. Well, she’d need to find it again, or use candles when she went to the storeroom.

What would medieval people do if they found it?

She shook her head, chasing the thought away.

She had her tampons, her wallet, her passport. That was it.

Not much to work with. She now regretted not stuffing her backpack with all kinds of unnecessary crap just in case she might need it, like Jenny did.

No. Amy preferred a minimalist lifestyle. She didn’t need much, living in a small house and being on the road in the mountains or in the center with her team, waiting for search and rescue calls. That gave her a feeling of freedom, a sense of purpose.

The lack of a toilet and running water, of conveniences, didn’t bother her that much. She could eat pretty much anything and be happy with it.

The worst thing was that she was trapped in this medieval time. And no one was coming to rescue her.

She supposed it might be easier if she was welcome here. But Craig and the rest of the men had put her in a tiny box—of being the enemy.

The only one who was willing to look past that was Hamish.

Amy spent the rest of the day counting the minutes as they crawled by until she finally let sleep pull her into dark dreams.

The morning of the next day, she was done with being locked up. She banged on the door. “Let me out! Right now! Take me to Craig Cambel. I demand you take me to Craig! I want to see him—”

The door opened, and Hamish came in, bumping into her. A small splash of hot porridge from a clay bowl landed on the floor. Amy jumped back.

“Are ye all right, lass?” Hamish asked.

“Yes, I’m fine.”