Again My Love (Kaitlyn and the Highlander Book 9) Read online

  Again my Love

  Diana Knightley

  For my readers, this one is especially for you…

  Contents

  1. One - Hayley

  2. Two - Hayley

  3. Three - Hayley

  4. Four - Hayley

  5. Five - Hayley

  6. Six - Hayley

  7. Seven - Hayley

  8. Eight - Hayley

  9. Nine - Hayley

  10. Ten - Hayley

  11. Eleven - Kaitlyn

  12. Twelve - Kaitlyn

  13. Thirteen - Kaitlyn

  14. Fourteen - Hayley

  15. Fifteen — Magnus

  16. Sixteen - Magnus

  17. Seventeen — Hayley

  18. Eighteen - Magnus

  19. Nineteen - Hayley

  20. Twenty - Kaitlyn

  21. Twenty-one - Magnus

  22. Twenty-two - Kaitlyn

  23. Twenty-three - Kaitlyn

  24. Twenty-four - Kaitlyn

  25. Twenty-five - Kaitlyn

  26. Twenty-six - Kaitlyn

  27. Twenty-seven - Magnus

  28. Twenty-eight - Magnus

  29. Twenty-nine - Kaitlyn

  30. Thirty - Kaitlyn

  31. Thirty-one - Kaitlyn

  32. Thirty-two - Kaitlyn

  33. Thirty-three - Kaitlyn

  34. Thirty-four - Magnus

  35. Thirty-five - Kaitlyn

  36. Thirty-six - Kaitlyn

  37. Thirty-seven - Kaitlyn

  38. Thirty-eight - Kaitlyn

  39. Thirty-nine - Magnus

  40. Forty - Magnus

  41. Forty-one - Magnus

  42. Forty-two - Magnus

  43. Forty-three - Kaitlyn

  44. Forty-four - Magnus

  45. Forty-five - Magnus

  46. Forty-six - Magnus

  47. Forty-seven - Magnus

  48. Forty-eight - Kaitlyn

  49. Forty nine - Kaitlyn

  50. Fifty - Magnus

  51. Fifty-one - Kaitlyn

  52. Fifty-two - Magnus

  53. Fifty-three - Magnus

  54. Fifty-four - Kaitlyn

  55. Fifty-five - Kaitlyn

  56. Fifty-six - Kaitlyn

  57. Fifty-seven - Kaitlyn

  58. Fifty-eight - Kaitlyn

  59. Fifty-nine - Magnus

  60. Sixty - Magnus

  61. Sixty-one - Kaitlyn

  62. Sixty-two - Magnus

  63. The end… for now.

  64. Hayley - Scotland, 1704

  Thank You

  Series Order

  Some thoughts and research…

  Acknowledgments

  Also by Diana Knightley

  About me, Diana Knightley

  Also by H. D. Knightley (My YA pen name)

  One - Hayley

  My eyes were not working right. Everything was super dark and close and pressing and totally overwhelming me. I concentrated on the horse’s mane and tried not to think about the big man-thighs in close proximity, pressing against my own. Those thighs were wrapped in a kilt, smelling like it hadn’t been washed in a really long time, if ever, like a wet dog. Or a sheep. And of course there was nothing under his skirt. This I knew, having seen Braveheart, my dad’s favorite movie. I was grateful to be wearing military clothes, layers of cargo pockets between me and this scoundrel.

  Because without a doubt he was a scoundrel.

  He literally looked like a pirate. Or a Viking. Like a guy that might seem sexy on paper but in close proximity, on the back of a horse together, was mostly terrifying. Because this guy was definitely all sword, no manners.

  Just my luck.

  Our route wound through an ancient wood, then emerged onto a well-travelled path with fewer trees. The thick-clouded sky looked oppressive and heavy, a neutral gray against the deep green of the pine behind us and the lighter green of the grass ahead of us.

  Fraoch shifted, looking over his shoulder. Our horse slowed.

  He turned the horse around and headed us in the opposite direction, back towards the forest, our pace barely a walk.

  “Why did you do that?”

  “This is the road tae the castle.”

  “Yes, and... where were we going?”

  “Tae the village, where I live.”

  “So again, why did we turn around?”

  He grunted. “I canna decide where tae take ye. Tis a great deal of trouble either way.”

  “Oh.”

  We rode in quiet. I was trying to get liquid from my saliva. “I’m really thirsty.”

  He reached into a leather bag and fished out a bottle of thick glass wrapped in leather strips. With his teeth he gripped the cork, pulled it free, and passed the bottle.

  I sniffed the opening. It smelled like whisky and beard. “Shit, I really want water, but I guess it’s five o’clock somewhere.”

  He chuckled. “I canna understand half of what ye are sayin’.”

  I drank, grimaced, then returned the bottle.

  He swigged from the bottle, twisted the cork into the top, and dropped it into the bag. “Where are ye from?”

  “Florida. A place called Amelia Island.”

  “Tis in the colonies?”

  “Yeah, I guess, now it’s called the United States.”

  “I have been tae St Augustine. I was garrisoned at Darien.”

  “Cool. St Augustine is south of Amelia Island, Darien is north.” We rode in silence for a bit. Our horse shifted beneath us, back and forth, a steady cadence that calmed my nerves.

  Finally I asked, “When?”

  “Durin’ the War of Jenkins Ear in the year of our Lord 1740.”

  “That’s before the United States was even a thing.” I added, “Weird.”

  Then I added, “What do you mean by trouble?”

  “Madame Lizbeth lives at the castle, have ye met her?”

  “No...”

  “She is Magnus’s sister, she would take ye in until he comes for ye, but tae get ye there we have tae enter the castle, past the soldiers, and twill be difficult tae explain yer arrival. I have only spoken tae the Earl once. He was nae an easy man tae converse with. I would prefer tae send a message tae Lizbeth and have her come gather ye, provide ye with a proper dress.”

  “That sounds good. I don’t mind the idea of a castle.”

  He grunted again, close to my ear, and slowed the horse.

  “I daena believe I can take ye home, tis Madame Greer’s house, she has been...”

  “What?”

  He chuckled. “Naethin’. I have been off huntin’.”

  “Hunting. So where do you live?”

  “I have a camp house farther east along the River Tay.”

  “Do you have food? I’m very hungry. Then we can watch for the storms. I may not even need a dress, you know, I only have a few hours to wait.”

  “Aye, I have food.” He turned the horse a third direction, yelled, “Hie!” and set the horse galloping into the woods.

  We came to a clearing and at the edge stood a small, thatched-roof cottage. The walls were dirt, the window was a hole with no glass, and there wasn’t a door. It was basically a hovel. Or a pigsty. It looked barely large enough for one person.

  My townhouse’s master bedroom had a larger closet. This was like what someone might use to store their rakes before the contractor arrived to build a proper tool shed.

  Fraoch guided our horse to a tree, swung to the ground, then headed into the house. I did not want to be outside, alone, so I dropped to the ground, trying to seem professional, and followed him.

  Inside, the room was dark, dank, and m
usty, and with Fraoch beside me, pretty body-odorous too. A dead rabbit hung from the wall.

  “Ew.”

  He followed my eyes to the murdered bunny. “Tis dinner.”

  “Ugh. I mean, thanks. I mean…” I swatted at something tickling my cheek, to see a spider hanging from a thread near my shoulder. “I think I need to pee.” I really just wanted out of that stiflingly small, spider-dwelling, smelly place. I pushed my way past Fraoch, trying not to breathe until I was back in the fresh air. I needed the fresh.

  He grunted and followed me out.

  I said, “So there’s not an outhouse or anything? Like no indoor plumbing?”

  He grunted again. “There is a bush beyond the alder.”

  “Great.” I trudged into the woods the basic direction he pointed and crouched behind a tree, pushing my pants down around my calves and holding the waistband away from my urine stream. I called, “I guess toilet paper would be too much to ask?”

  Another grunt from Fraoch and this time it sounded close, way close. I was super embarrassed about how loud I was peeing. Great again, this was all fucking great. I pulled up my pants and followed him back to the cottage.

  I finally took off my bulletproof vest. It was cold without it, but it had been heavy. I leaned it against the front wall of the house, then crossed my arms and shivered.

  His brow drew down at the sight of me.

  I followed his eyes as they appraised me — my khaki vest covered in cargo pockets over a white T-shirt. My pants covered in more pockets. Why I was wearing so many pockets, I could not explain — they were completely empty, not a sandwich, a blanket, a roll of toilet paper, nothing useful. My shoes were Adidas trainers that did not pass for eighteenth century anything.

  He crouched to build a fire. I sat across from him, but, just my luck, the wind blew smoke in my face and, like a dork, I tried to wave it away. My eyes teared up. I coughed—

  “Ye are sittin’ in the smoke.”

  “I know,” to make it sound reasonable I added, “the wind switched.”

  I crawled around to sit beside him. He was wearing an obvious smirk on his face.

  “So you live here, in this... where’s your bed?”

  His eyes twinkled mischievously. “Tis brazen tae ask it, dost ye want me tae show ye?” He patted the dirt.

  I rolled my eyes. “God no. I just wanted to make sure I was correct. There’s no place to sleep, no bathroom, nothing. I’ve been in nicer tents before.”

  His brow drew together. Then he asked, “Are ye hungry?”

  “Famished. Thirsty too.”

  He tossed me the bottle of whisky. I caught it with both hands, pulled the cork with my teeth, and swigged. “No water?”

  “Nae, I will get some in a moment.” He clutched the skin across the back of the rabbit, made a small cut with a dirk, ripped the rear half of the skin off, then ripped the front half off.

  I looked away with a shudder.

  He asked, “When dost ye think they will come for ye?”

  “Any minute now. We just need to watch for the storms.”

  “You are lucky tis warm and dry.”

  I had been thinking of the day as cool and wondering if it would rain. “What month is it?”

  “We are soon tae be arrivin’ at grian-stad samhraidh.” He carved down the middle of the rabbit and butterflied it open.

  I tucked my eyes to my knees and tried not to throw up. “What is krea-stat saureg, or whatever you just said?”

  There was now a stick jammed through the poor murdered rabbit and Fraoch was rotisserie-ing it over the fire to cook on all sides, though, at this point, one side was black and crispy while the other dripped raw and bloody. “If ye are hungry, Madame Hayley, ye can eat from the done parts, daena eat the raw side.”

  I gagged.

  He looked up at the sky and appraised the trees. “Tis the beginnin’ of the braw days.”

  I pressed my face into my knees. “So this is summer? This is warm? Okay, at least it won’t snow.” But it was cold and I was from Florida so I thought to ask, “Will it snow?”

  “Probably nae.”

  It didn’t seem like he was joking.

  Done, he slid the rabbit onto a piece of wood, tore off a hunk of meat, and stuffed it in his mouth. He gestured for me to join in.

  I peeled off a bit, put it in my own mouth, chewed, and gagged it down. It was a little like chicken but also, not at all. Maybe like the dark meat of turkey but dry. It needed some salt.

  I had been very hungry though, so this was completely necessary.

  We ate quietly, barely talking. He grunted a lot.

  I couldn’t tell if his grunts were exasperation or if he thought I was funny, or confusing, possibly repulsive — I had worked through my deodorant and hadn’t slept well in days. My mood was craptastic.

  “Will yer husband be worried on ye?”

  “Oh, um...” Without a doubt it would be best to say yes — I was at his mercy, no phone, no 911, no neighbors, no ride home. I needed protection, he needed to be too nervous to try anything.

  “Definitely. My husband — I’m sure he’ll come with Kaitlyn and Quentin, possibly Mags... any minute now.” I added, “He’s big, just so you know, like an MMA fighter.”

  His brow furrowed. “What is an ememay fighter?”

  “Fighting, like with full-contact and… um… I’m not exactly sure how to describe it.”

  “Nae with swords or guns?”

  “No, but he has a gun. He can shoot.”

  “Aye, and why did he allow ye tae embark on such a dangerous journey? He should take better care of ye.”

  “Yeah, true...” I changed the subject, “So which direction are we watching for the storm?”

  He grunted and pointed.

  I turned that way and watched the sky.

  Two - Hayley

  The sun was starting to go down. The woods around the clearing were cast in deep shadows and the temperature dropped. I was not worried though. Katie and Mags usually gave it a day before they’d retrieve someone, not wanting to overlap or something. I just needed to hold tight.

  Fraoch, after instructing me to stay very quiet and to yell if there was any trouble, “I will hear ye,” he said, disappeared into the dark woods.

  He returned about forty-five minutes later carrying a ceramic jug of fresh water and a bundle of wood for the fire.

  I said, “No storms, but tomorrow there is sure to be a rescue committee.”

  “Aye.”

  I shivered as a wind rustled the limbs of the pine above us.

  “Dost ye need a wrap?”

  I huddled round my knees nodding. “I really do.”

  From the bag on the side of the horse he retrieved a thick wool blanket, folded it over his arm, and whacked it repeatedly with his palm causing dust to billow from it. After a few more whacks he passed it to me to wrap up in.

  I ignored the smell and tried to think about how kind it was of him to dust it for me. “This is really summer?”

  He grinned a big grin accentuating his missing tooth. “Och aye, tis balmy.” He added more wood to the fire, building up the flame, hot coals warming for at-most six inches around.

  I lay down on my side wrapping the blanket tighter. “So how do you know Mags?”

  “I met him just after a battle. He had escaped a prison, I had deser...” He stopped and continued differently. “Twas time tae come home tae Scotland for both of us. We gained passage on a ship from Savannah and then across tae London. Twas a verra long journey.”

  “Where I come from that would take about six hours.”

  “Och, really? Would ye use the vessels?”

  “No, we fly,” I leaned up on an elbow. “In something called an airplane. I don’t really understand how they work, but a hundred people, sometimes more, get into seats and the plane flies them across the ocean.”

  Fraoch concentrated on my face as I spoke. “Madame Hayley, are ye tellin’ me a story?”

 
; “Nope. It’s true.”

  “Tis nae witchcraft?” He stared the smoke rising in a spiral from the fire shaking his head. “Kaitlyn told me twas nae black magic, but it seems...”

  “It’s not, Fraoch. It’s science and engineering, and...”

  “And invention, like Og Maggy said?”

  “Yep.” I giggled. “That’s what you call him?”

  “Aye, young Maggy. It suits him, he is much like a verra young boy who thinks he is a man, I hae tae remind him he is a wee-un.” He laughed.

  I rather liked his laugh, low and deep.

  The night had grown very dark, the fire our only light, the sounds around us close and spooky. I pulled the blanket up around my ears.

  “In the crossin’ from the colonies, I was verra close tae death. Og Maggy and Madame Kaitlyn saved m’life. Tis why I live here now, in a different time and place, tae help him keep his family safe. I watch for storms.”

  “That’s nice of you. They deserve it. They have a lot of assholes after them and need all the help they can get.”

  He nodded and watched the fire for a few minutes. “They will come for ye on the morrow, Madame Hayley.”