Hannah & The Highlander [Book 1 in the time travel series]

Chapter Sixteen: Escape

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Copyright © 2013

Chapter Sixteen: Escape

@Hannah's P.O.V.@

The sudden lurch of the wagon as it barreled over some sort of debris in the road shook me awake, shattering the fragile fantasy I had created for myself-of being back home with Cailen, of redoing the other night the way I really wanted it to be, with me kissing Cailen until I couldn't breathe. I froze as that single word lashed out at me. Home. When had that drafty keep, with too many stairs and its endless halls become home?

Probably around the same time you fell for the guy in the skirt, a cynical voice chimed at the back of my head.

I sat up, glancing slowly around the cramped wagon. Everyone was slumped over in sleep, the kids snuggled up snugly next to Claire like a liter of puppies with their mother. From outside I heard the sounds of the forest-an owl hooting, crickets chirping and somewhere in the distance thunder rumbled.

My stomach contrasted. I hated storms. Rainstorms, I was fine; but throw in some lightning and thunder and I was more scared than a five year old watching Jeepers Creepers. I scowled at myself. I was six-freaking-teen, not six. I was too old to be scared of a little lightning. I had to be strong.

Especially if this plan is going to work, I thought as ran my fingers through my hair.

The wagon jerked suddenly as we came to a halt, horses whinnying loudly as another boom of thunder sounded through the hills. Voices-multiple, very male voices-muffled by distance, laughter echoing.

I straightened, listening closely as footsteps pounded towards the wagon. The flap flew up to reveal Mr. Piggy and two others. One man looked to be in his forties, with thinning salt and pepper hair, a face creased with lines, a bushy beard concealing the lower half of face. The other man was younger, perhaps the elder's son? His face was pockmarked, his own dark hair long, past his shoulders, hanging in strangling, greasy clumps. He eyed me, a heated spark of desire flashing across his face. My skin crawled when his flicked almost serpent-like across his lips. Ew, just ew.

"Nice batch this year, eh Fergus?" The elder man asked as his eyes wandered across the others.

Mr. Piggy-Fergus-chuckled thickly as he placed a beefy hand on the bars. "Aye, a right pretty lot I have this season. I'll likely make a pretty price for the lot of them."

" 'ere you git dis one, gov'na?" Pox asked as he leaned against the bars, his eyes never leaving me. "She's right pretty, she is."

Fergus crowed with laughter, giving the boy a hard smack on the back. "Ah, Willy, you have good eye, you do! This one now, I received from an aquantence in Scotland. Supposedly she was a highland laird's mistress."

My hackles rized. Mistress? Excuse me? I kept my mouth shut, though, as Fergus turned back to the other men.

"Take the lot o' 'em ta the stables, Willy," the elder man ordered as he accepted a large pouch that jingled like bells as he weighted it in his palm.

I scrambled back, shaking the others awake. Leaning down I hissed the plan once more, even as Willy started ushering the kids out.

"It's now or never guys," I whisper as I follow Susan out of the wagon.

Willy grabbed my arm, as if to help me out. I feigned to stumble, knocking into him with all my weight.

"Oh! I'm so sorry," I gasped as I began to sit up.