Page 29 of Katie's Highlander (Highland Protector 3)
Tattoo-head replied but his tone had changed from the threatening rumble of earlier. The man’s voice had lowered to an excited respectful note that was still laced with wariness. He turned and barked something out at the other two, then all three men took a knee and bowed their heads.
“Dinna fear, lass. They are MacTavish. A druid clan.” Ramsay gently drew her out from behind him and brought her to stand at his side. He held her close against him and growled out, “Mo bhean.”
My wife.She understood that Gaelic phrase plain as day and the way Ramsay said it shot a rush of adrenaline and an unexpected feeling ofI belong to himthrough her. He sounded…she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.Possessive? Yes. He sounds possessive.And proud—as though staking his claim and subliminally warning the men there’d be hell to pay if they were stupid enough to touch her.
All three darted a quick glance over at her, touched their foreheads with their fists, then turned their attention back to Ramsay as they rose from their kneeling positions.
Katie almost laughed out loud. She’d been afraid to meet people, mainly because of her attire, and Ramsay had been so concerned for her safety, and yet she’d clearly been dismissed as less than important almost immediately—as though she was nothing more than a possession.Fine by me. I have no problem being invisible while we’re here in the past.
“Come.” Ramsay took her by the arm. “MacTavish Keep isna far. We should be safe there and welcomed.” Ramsay paused and gave her a quick up-and-down glance. “And I feel certain the lady of the keep will be more than happy t’have her housekeeper fetch ye some clothes more appropriate for this time.”
“Hopefully, she can spare a pot or two of hot water.” Shifting the gritty front of her shirt away from her chest, Katie rolled her shoulders and cringed as more of the dry, encrusted debris broke loose and rattled down her body. “I’d be happy with one good kettle full, a bowl, and a rag.” Soap would be phenomenal, but she’d make do with just the water.
“I’ll be sure t’mention yer desire for a good wash.” Ramsay hurried them along the path behind their three hosts. “The MacTavishes of the future are the best of the clans when it comes to makin’ a MacDara feel welcome. ’Tis my hope that the MacTavishes of this time will no’ be any different.”
I just hope some of them speak English.She could pick up bits and pieces of conversations in Gaelic but very little and no way did she grasp enough of the language to carry on an in-depth conversation.
Ramsay suddenly halted, shielded her with his arm, then abruptly pushed her behind him. “Stay behind me, lass. One of them just split away and disappeared into the wood.”
“I thought you said we could trust them?”
“I dinna whole-heartedly trust anyone but m’self right about now.” He stole a look back at her and the scowl he’d worn since they left the shelter softened the barest bit. “And I trust you.”
Katie bit her bottom lip and huddled closer, stealing glances all around and straining to hear any noise that might be coming from behind them. She didn’t harbor a doubt that Ramsay would risk his own life to save hers. She didn’t know how she knew this—it was just one of those things, like knowing the sun would always rise in the east and set in the west. “I trust you too,” she whispered.
Ramsay relaxed and pointed off to the right. “Their morning hunt was a success. There’ll be meat for our supper.”
Katie looked in the direction Ramsay pointed and then wished she hadn’t. The man was dragging the gutted carcass of a hairy black boar by its back hooves, which had been tightly lashed together. The beast was enormous, so huge that the man grunted with every labored step. He spouted off something in Gaelic to the other two MacTavishes. Tattoo-head pushed the other man toward the pig and growled out more unintelligible words. The man nodded and hurried over to assist in threading a long thick branch through the tied legs of the animal, so it could be toted between them.
“Why can’t I understand their Gaelic as easily as I understand yours?” Katie backed up a step and blinked against the foul odor of the slaughtered hog in the warm day as she and Ramsay fell in step behind the men. She forced down a gag as the wind carried a stronger surge of dead-animal and pig-shit stench across them.Oh my God. I’ll never eat meat again.She covered her nose and mouth with one hand as her gag reflex overpowered her control.
Ramsay gave her a sympathetic look then positioned himself between her and the animal. “I’ll block the wind best I can.” He glanced back over one shoulder at her. “And ye canna understand them because the language they’re usin’ is a mix of several of the oldest languages kent only by the goddess druids. But this is the year 917A.D., so if they wished, they could speak the Gaelic ye know or Northumbrian Old English, ye should have no’ problem understandin’ that with yer background. They willna know French just yet, ’tis too early in the centuries. But it appears our new acquaintances are a bit leery about meetin’ a protector and his wife.” Ramsay glanced back again and graced her with another sympathetic smile as she gagged once more and covered her mouth to keep from puking.
He motioned toward the tattooed man at the head of the group. “They think the old tongue will suitably test me. Only druids ordained by the goddesses will ken their words. Come…” he pulled her up beside him as the trail widened. “Now, that they’ve retrieved their kill, we’re headed straight to the keep.”
Damn, history stinks.Still holding her nose and risking short intakes of breath through tight, barely parted lips, Katie tried to look anywhere except at the dripping carcass hanging between the two men up ahead. 917A.D.? Wait. What?“How did you find out this is 917?”
“Gordon told me.” Ramsay pointed his spear at the man with the tattooed head who was currently deep in conversation with the man toting the front end of the pig. “He’s the MacTavish high druid and kent that a protector would need t’know the year.”
“When did he tell you this?” She might not understand druid-speak but she sure as hell knew that Ramsay hadn’t had any extended conversations with any of the three men.
“It takes but a few words in the old tongue coupled with hand signs as well. And trust me, lass, Gordon MacTavish appears t’be a man of even fewer words than most.”
There was something else. Something he wasn’t saying. Ramsay’s tone had changed, and he hadI can’t tell you the restshadows across his face. He sounded…wary. She felt it just as surely as she felt the scratching of dried muck clinging to her clothes with every step she took.
“What else did he say that you’re not telling me?” Screw beating around the bush and trying to worm it out of him. She didn’t have the energy for that crap. The thought of more trouble was dangerously overloading her already teetering emotional plate. Her mouth went dry as sand sifting in the desert, then a wave of nausea crashed across her, leaving her covered in a cold clammy sweat.
Ramsay halted and studied her for a long tense moment. Without another word, he hooked his arm around her and half-carried her forward. “I willna embarrass ye by pickin’ ye up,” he whispered as he hitched her closer. “But come. Fight this, Katie. We’ll get ye to food and drink soon. I swear it.”
I can do this. I can make it on my own.Katie stumbled and fell against him, grappling to hold on to the muscular arm around her. A strange weakness was taking control of her. It was a kind of lightheadedness and was making her all jiggly in the knees.
“Lass?”
Why did Ramsay’s voice sound so far away and muffled? She swallowed hard and worked her jaw, trying to get her ears to pop and clear the monotone buzzing drowning out all other sound. She tripped again. This damn ground was just too rough to walk on—the crazy path kept jumping up to meet her feet before she was ready to step down. She fought to shore herself up and get through this.
Push. A little food. A little water. Up ahead.I can do this. I can make it.
Unfortunately, her body was done. She tried to say Ramsay’s name but couldn’t tell if it came out of her mouth or not before the velvety soft darkness pulled her down and welcomed her with open arms.
