Page 28 of Katie's Highlander (Highland Protector 3)
Ramsay touched the right side of his face. Startled recollection and maybe a little regret instantly darkened his already troubled scowl. “All MacDara sons are marked by the goddesses when they take the oath of a protector. ’Tis Bride, Danu, and Scota’s combined symbol and only appears for others t’see when we’re sent through time to do their bidding.” His fingers traced the outline of the blue-black tribal symbol of Celtic knotwork tattooed on his temple, and across the cheekbone beneath his right eye. “ ’Tis how we are recognized by other druid clans as we travel through time. Proof of who we are, ye might say.” He shoved a long dark blond warrior’s braid to his back and shrugged. “And my hair always returns to what it was when I trained with Scota.”
Giving her an unreadable look, he reached out, took hold of her right wrist, and gently turned it, pulling her arm into the sunlight. “And this is how yer identified as my wife so that no harm will come t’ye whene’er yer sent through the ages with me.”
A replica of the same blue-black triple knotwork, although much smaller, was now perfectly emblazoned on the fair skin of Katie’s inner wrist.
Shocked at the violation, Katie clenched her fist and yanked free of Ramsay’s hold. She hugged her forearm to her chest, struggling with the overwhelming mix of emotions barraging her senses. Confusion. Fear. Frustration. Disbelief. She took a step back, sucked in a deep breath, and struggled to control the suddenly nauseating spin of the room.
“How the hell can all this be true?” She jabbed her wrist toward Ramsay then scrubbed at the mark on her skin, succeeding only in making her flesh glow red with the friction. “This cannot be happening,” she hissed between clenched teeth.
“Aye, lass, but it is happening. All of it.” A sorrowful look of loss and extreme weariness deepened the crease between Ramsay’s dark brows. “But take heart,” he added quietly. “As soon as I discover what it is the goddesses wish me t’do and then complete that task, they’ll return us to the future—where ye belong.”
Thank God for that.“I’m going outside to pee.” She hugged herself away from him, rubbing at the ripple of goosebumps on her arms and forcing her hysteria back down to a manageable level. Panicking wouldn’t change a damn thing. She jabbed a finger at Ramsay. “You figure out why you’re here and what you’re supposed to do by the time I get back. Got it?”
“I’ll be goin’ outside wi’ ye, lass. I willna leave yer side whilst we’re here. This place…” he paused and allowed his gaze to drift around their surroundings. “I dinna ken the dangers of where we are just yet—but we must take care.”
What Ramsay said made sense, but she’d never be able to pee with him standing guard beside her. “Can you at least stand on the other side of the bush, so I can have a little privacy?”
Ramsay politely bowed to her wishes and motioned toward the door. “Aye, lass. I’ll stand guard in the clearing whilst yer among the trees tendin’ to yer needs. But I ask ye—and ’tis verra important that ye heed what I say whilst we are here—dinna go far from the clearin’, aye? Yer safety depends on it.”
They went outside, and Katie squinted against the bright morning light flooding the clearing. At least it appeared to be summer wherever—and whenever—this was. She glanced down at her favorite T-shirt that had once been a lovely shade of washed-a-thousand-times baby blue. After last night’s events, it was mud-encrusted gray and both it and her favorite skinny jeans with the split knees would never be the same.
“I should make a great impression on the locals,” she muttered under her breath as she squatted behind a dense leafy bush that she prayed wasn’t poison sumac. The last thing she needed right now was a rash on her ass. She patted herself dry as best she could with a handful of leaves and let her panties and jeans do the rest.
A wry thought hit her as she stood and fastened her pants and noted several additional rips and tears in them that hadn’t been provided by the manufacturer: they better get back to the future within a few days because she very much doubted there was anything remotely resembling the convenience of a tampon in this place.
Ramsay, standing with spear at the ready in one hand and the other hand resting on the haft of the dirk belted at his waist, visibly relaxed when she rejoined him in the clearing. “Are ye ready, then?”
“Ready for what?” She was more than ready to return to some semblance of a normal reality, but she very much doubted that’s what Ramsay meant.
“We’ll travel south. Down the mountain.” Ramsay nodded toward a beaten-down path disappearing into the trees. “With any luck, we’ll find a bit of water to slake our thirst and then, perhaps, we’ll come upon something or someone that will tell us what place in time this is…and hopefully, exactly where.”
“Um…people?” Katie wasn’t too sure about the people-meeting part of Ramsay’s plan. Water, she’d gladly accept. But people? Dressed as she was, depending on the century, they’d think she was either a witch or a whore—or both—and then they’d react accordingly. No, thank you. She didn’t want to experience that particular part of history first hand.
“Aye, people.” Ramsay gave her a reassuring smile and led the way into the woods, spear held at the ready and scanning the area on either side of them as they walked. “From the age of these trees, the moss upon them, and the verra feel of the place, I believe us t’be in Scotland—’tis usually where we end up when the goddesses send us back.”
He stopped, cocked his head as though trying to hear the smallest of sounds, then pointed to the right with his spear. “Water. That direction.”
Katie followed close behind, watching where she stepped to avoid any surprises like she’d found last night that had landed her in a muddy pit. Finally, she heard the gurgling tinkle of moving water.Thank goodness. It’s not coffee but it’ll do.She hurried to push past Ramsay and enjoy the spring.
Ramsay snatched hold of her shoulder and pulled her back into the protective curve of his arm, keeping her slightly behind him. He raised a finger to his lips and subtly nodded toward the stream.
Almost afraid to breathe at the risk of making a noise, Katie followed Ramsay’s line of sight.Oh shit.
Three men, extremely large men with short, deadly-looking swords lashed to their sides, squatted on the other side of the narrow expanse of shallow water that was bubbling and frothing across a bed of multicolored stones. Each of them scooped up double handfuls of water to their mouths as their horses drank in the water beside them. The men had a marked grubbiness about them as though they’d been living in the rough for days, maybe even weeks, and hadn’t had the time nor the inclination to address something as bothersome as cleanliness. Of course, in this century, personal hygiene ranked pretty low when it came to priorities.
Katie studied their clothing, mentally comparing it to Ramsay’s protector wear. They all wore the same colored and patterned brats or plaids—the much older precursor to the sixteenth-century kilt—swathed about their bodies. Their long threadbare linen shirts were opened wide at the throats and the full sleeves were rolled up well past their elbows. Ratty sporrans dangled from their belted trews that appeared to hit them just below their knees. Their leather boots were mud-encrusted and worn. Two of the men had long, dark, greasy-looking hair pulled back from their faces and knotted at the back of their thick necks with what looked like rawhide ties. The one who appeared older than the other two had no hair at all, but the skin of his bald head was covered in faded black tribal tattoos.
Katie placed her mouth against Ramsay’s ear, keeping her voice to even lower than a whisper. “Ninth century Scotland—or Ireland. Might even be tenth century from their dress. Depends where we are.”
Ramsay didn’t respond. Quietly moving in front of her, he gave her a look that clearly said,stay behind me.Katie agreed with a quick nod, snugging up close to his back and matching her moves to his as he stepped out of the shelter of the bushes.
The three men on the other side of the creek jerked their heads up at the same time. They immediately drew their weapons and warily rose from kneeling to battle-ready crouches. The older of the three, the man with the ancient tribal markings in place of his hair, stepped forward. Dark eyes glinting, his tattooed head tilted as he peered closer, his narrow-eyed stare settling on Ramsay’s facial tattoo. He pointed and grunted out a hissing stream of what sounded like Gaelic, but he spoke so rapidly that Katie couldn’t possibly translate any of the words.
Ramsay stiffened beneath her hands and seemed to grow beneath her touch. He snarled out a low throaty sound as he strode another step forward and thumped the haft of his spear hard against the ground as though it were a royal scepter.
“Ramsay Danann MacDara,iomraidh air spear bana-dia.”
Bearer of the goddesses’ spear.At least, that’s what shethoughtRamsay had said. Between her rusty understanding of Gaelic and the way he’d said the words in the warning guttural growl of an enraged wolf, she wasn’t quite sure.
