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

Chapter Seventeen: Unlikely Ally

All Rights Reserved



Copyright © 2013



(dedicated to the lovely reader several chapters ago who suggested that our darling feline have a say in things, and also to my big sis Happy 25th bday! And thanks for reading my stories when I asked ;D)



Chapter Seventeen: Unlikely Ally



@C. K.'s P.O.V.@



Clark Kitty Kent walked through the empty halls of Balnagown castle in search for the sweet smelling girl who gave him treats. He hadn't seen her in a long while, and he wandered if she had come back yet. Big Man had been very upset as well-Kitty Kent made sure to snuggle u to Big Man at night so he didn't get too lonely missing Sweet Girl.



C.K. raced around the corner pausing momentarily to sniff at a bit of fallen pastry that one of the maids had carelessly dropped. C.K. to a hearty lick before chomping onto the flaky gold pastry. He purred happily as he identified the taste-gooseberry. Yum.



". . . you simpleton! Empty headed dolt!"



C.K.'s ears twitched at the sound. He knew that voice. He didn't like that voice. The hair on C.K.'s spin rose as he tensed. It was Witch Woman. Witch Woman didn't like him, she said bad things about Sweet Girl.



C.K. started forward, carefully tariffing silently across the cold stones of the ground. He peered around the next corner, watching keenly as Witch Woman paced and raved, her skirts swishing violently after her. C.K.'s attention went to the other human-this one was big-even bigger than Big Man.



C.K. recognized him from the great hall. He was always with Big Man. He was Big Man's friend. Why was Giant with Witch Woman?



". . . McKinnon had one task! Get rid of the girl! What does the greedy bastard do? He sells her! The greedy son of a whore monger sold her! She is still alive, and that dolt is good as dead!"



Girl? Sweet Girl! C.K.'s little heart pittered and pattered in distress. Witch Woman wanted to hurt Sweet Girl?



"Now my sweet laird will nae stop looking fer the chit! Oh, MacCraig, whatever will I do?"



Giant did not speak. C.K. knew that Giant was not very smart. He was big and fast, but he was not too bright.



"Lassie, forget yer schemes fer the laird. He will ne'er look at ye the way ye wish; deep down ye ken that."



Huh. Giant human was lot smarter then C.K. had thought. Witch Woman did not agree though, no, she screamed like a bad storm wind. Water leaked from her eyes as she shook her head, the long fur there swinging around like a bit of yarn.



Mmm, yarn!



". . . I'll not let that devil-bitch have him! Ne'er! So long as I draw breath, that whore will nay have him!"



C.K. hissed, all fantasies of yarn-bouncy, tangily, stringy yarn-was gone. C.K. knew what he had to do. He had to show Big Man that Witch Woman was bad. He had to make Big Man understand.



Something in the corner caught C.K.'s eye, and suddenly all thoughts of Sweet Girl abandoning him. He hunched down low, gathering up all his strength into a spring.



A mouse! A mouse, a mouse, a mouse!







@Hannah's P.O.V.@





"Now, dear, I must implore you; please do not scream. We do not wish to draw attention to our selves."



I was frozen against the hard body of my captor, his scent a mixture of brandy and something woodsy. I couldn't scream for help-and it wouldn't do me any good if I had, the slave trader and all the occupants of the inn would come running, but rescuing me wouldn't be their objective-due to his hand clamped firmly over my mouth, silencing me. My wrists were captured in his other hand, and no matter how hard I fought, his iron lock grip unrelenting.



"I am going to remove my hand, once I do please, do not scream and do not run. I am in no mood for a game of chase."



I nodded, scrambling for some sort of plan. I had nothing.



The man released me, spinning me around quickly so that I faced him full on. It took me a moment for my eyes to properly adjust to the change of light. It was darker under the thick canopy of trees, not a sliver of moonlight could make it through the intracet weave of the tree limbs. Slowly my eyes adjusted, and I gazed up into the face of my newest captor.



He was young-I pegged him to be a bit older than Cailen-his blonde hair sheered short, a light golden stubble growing along his jaw and near his firm, mocking mouth. He was dressed in expensive velvets and satin-he obviously had plenty of money to throw around. I lifted my eyes back up to meet his critical dark gaze.



"So," he sighed as he made to release his death grip on my wrists, "you are what all the hullabaloo is about."



"Um, yeah. Kinda."



He chuckled, kind of like Cailen did when I said something in slang or spoke about the future. A bewildered, this-is-rediculious laugh. It bothered me that I found such a trivial similarity between the two men, but I quickly shoved the thought aside. Worry about boys later, get away now.



"You're British." I stated a feeling of dismay washing over me. I had hoped-feebly-that we hadn't yet left Scotland.



"Aye, there are many of us Brits in Brittiana. But you are not, are you?"



"No." I said with a sigh. "I'm not."



"Where are you from girl? And may I have your name?"



"Hannah, and it doesn't matter where I'm from. The only thing that does matter is where I'm going; and that's Scotland. So if you don't mind," I made to walk around the imposing man, but he was quicker, blocking my path with his burly form.



"Ach, I should have known-what with your delightful manners and decorum." He flashed a startling bright smile, he probably meant to show off his white, even teeth every last one where it should be. Hm, I guess back in these times guys thought that they deserved a medal for personal hygiene. "I am James by the way."



I didn't bother answering. Guys like 'James' were a dime a dozen back home. Those holier-than-thou guys who think they fart rainbows and glitter, and that they can do no wrong. I hated guys like that. With a wink and a smile they could get away with murder. It was nauseating.



"Now tell me, sweeting, why are you hiding out here? What have you done to rankle ol' Fergus?"



"You know that creep?" My feeling towards this guy were shrinking by the second.



"Everyone knows Fergus in these parts," he said glibly. "I must say for a Scot you don't quite have that detestable burgh."



"I never said I was Scottish," I snapped. God, I was tired of him. I was tired in general. In a span of a week I've had the guy of my dreams profess his love, been kidnapped, sold into slavery, escaped from slavery and now I was being harassed by the twelfth century version of a jock. I needed a nap.



"Ah, yes you did say that that was your destination. Why may I ask? Do you have family there-a husband?"



Spider-like chills crawled down my spin. This guy was fishing for something.



"Yeah, actually. A laird, no less."



"Ach, really? Of what?"



"Argyll," I answered smugly. "His keep is Balnagown Castle, his name is Cailen MacBain, in his early twenties, really hot, really strong and could easily mop the floor with you."



His brows arch. "Ach, really? That I would like to see."



"So would I," I grumbled as I crossed my arms over my chest. "Listen," I say a bit more loudly, "I need to reach Argyll. It's important. Can you help me?"



James did not respond. Seconds turned to minutes, and the silence that was coming from him was deafening. I glanced over my shoulder, meeting his sharp gaze.



"Are you sure your laird wants your return? I have heard fiendish tales of the barbarians in the north. 'Twould not surprise me if your laird was behind the plot of your slavery."



A sharp intake of breath whistled between my teeth. The very idea was . . . preposterous! It was the most half cocked idea I had ever heard. The fact that he had even voiced such a idiotic notion floored me. Cailen was NOTHING like that. But, then again, James didn't even know Cailen, so the stereotype could be looked over.



"Yes, I am very sure that he wants me back. And Cailen is nothing like that. There's not a heartless or a barbaric bone in his body." Even as I said the words, I could see his ruggedly handsome face, those laughing green eyes alight with a teasing mirth. My heart twisted in my chest and a heavy weight of loss filled me. "Please, James; I don't know how or when, but some how I will repay you if you help me. I just want to go home."



The silence was excruciating. My heart labored with every beat, the fragile feeling of hope blooming in my chest was dangling by a thin thread over a cliff, and the person holding the string was James. When he at last answered, I was all but ready to dissolve into a fit of tears.



"Aye, I'll guide you north."





___________________Author's Note______________________

Tah-dah! Chapter seventeen my loyal readers :D Omg omg!!! We are nearly to twenty chapters :o I am positively floored we have come so far. I like to think that as I matured over the last year or so, so has Hannah as a character. Oh! And I found another Cailen! A woman, Maya Banks writes historical highland books and one of heroes was named 'Caelen'! I was smiling when I read it. I was pleased to think I wasn't the only writer who liked the name.



Now, was C.K. Point of view ok? I kind of giggled the entire time I wrote it lol. Kitty kent is so cute though! And another reason I chose Clark Kent for his name is cuz my sisters and I love Tom Welling AND Smallville.



Anyways, I love you all, thank you for reading and please vote, comment and fan if you have not already.



LotsOfLove Amber :)