For several minutes I was very disoriented. My ears were ringing from that insane buzzing noise that I had heard as I stepped between the two stones. It was as though I had been attacked by an killer bee. Thankfully the noise had come without the requisite bee.
Taking several deep breaths to keep the world from spinning, I decided that it was time to get off Craigh na Dun. I would be back long before the cab driver, but the solitude of the fairy hill was starting to unnerve me.
Just as I reached the edge of the hill the sound of a gun shot filled the air. Having just spent nearly five years serving at the front, I didn't even notice it at first. By the time I heard the second gun shot my mind was fully aware of the fact that there shouldn't have been those noises. I half slid, half ran down the side of the hill in my haste to get down. Getting shot was most definitely not on my list of things to do for the day.
On my rapid descent down the side of the hill, I happened to glance to my left. What I saw caught me off guard, but also took away some of my fear.
It was one of those bloody historical recreations!
Men in kilts running around with ancient muskets shooting at each other. Stupid men! Why do they always insist on acting like little boys even when they are full grown? Pausing to catch my breath, I watched them for a few minutes as they staged the mock battle between kilted Scots and a small group of English Redcoats.
The battle took a very realistic turn when one of the kilted men on horseback got hit by a bullet and went tumbling head over heels off the horse. My instincts as a nurse took over instantly and I once again began my trek down the hill, turning away from the road and towards the open field where the idiot men were playing their game.
I went crashing into the forest at the bottom of the hill, barely even noticing the small cabin set just inside it. There was no actual path for me to follow so I simply made one of my own through the bramble. The skirt of my flower slip dress continuously got caught on twigs and other pointy plant life, doing nothing but annoying me. This dress was the first nice thing I had bought for myself upon returning home after the war and I hated to see it get torn like that.
"Well this is certainly a surprise."
A wide smile on my face, I turned around to face Scott. "What on earth are ya doin' here, Scooter? Ah thought ya were...."
I trailed off when I came face to face with the person standing behind me. A person who was most definitely not my husband. It was Scott's voice I had heard, but the person looking at me wasn't Scott. He was at least another foot taller than my husband with a shock of blonde hair pulled back into a queue rather than Scott's lanky brown locks. His body was also far different than Scott's. This man was not only taller than Scott, but he was also far more muscular than my husband. Not that Scott is a runt in any way. On the contrary, Scott has an amazing physique.... This man just had a whole lot more of a body to be defined.
Frighteningly, though, his dark eyes were exactly like Scott's in both colour and the way they were set in his face. It was almost like having Scott staring back at her from a stranger's face.
"So what are you doing out here, little girl?" the man with Scott's voice asked. "This isn't the best place for a woman to be wandering about in nothing but her shift."
Soon as he said that, I felt instantly self conscious and crossed my arms over my chest to keep his lecherous eyes away from my breasts. I felt incredibly unnerved in his presence and wanted to get as far away as soon as possible.
"Do ya mind?" I hissed, glaring up at him. "Ah don't much appreciate ya starin' at me like Ah'm a piece o' meat."
Whoever this man was, he was certainly taking his role as an English Redcoat very seriously. His eyes got dark with anger, darker than I'd ever seen Scott's, as he took a menacing step towards me. "You can't talk to me like that, girl. Now tell me your name and why you're wandering about the Scottish countryside unescorted."
"That is none of yer business," I informed him, retreating until my back came in contact with a very large tree. "So if ya will excuse me, Ah'll be on mah way."
As I went to pass him, he latched onto my arm. "Now you know I can't do that, lass. What type of gentleman would I be if I abandoned you here?"
"The kind that's smart enough ta leave a girl alone when she doesn't want ta be bothered," I shot back, more than a little annoyed with him by this point. "Now, if ya'll excuse me Ah'd like ta be on mah way."
Once again I tried to push myself past him. This time, instead of merely blocking my path the big ape flung me over his shoulder and proceeded to carry me back in the direction I had come from. Screaming as loud as I could, I began pounding on his back and kicking my feet.
"Put me down, ya cretin! Ah'll have ya arrested fer this!" I shouted, placing an exceptionally hard blow on his kidneys.
"Somehow I doubt that," he said, patting my bottom. "Now quit your squawking and we'll be on our way."
I punched him again and nearly kicked him in the face. "Who the hell do ya think ya are?"
He set me down on the ground and bowed with a flourish. "I am Victor Randall, Esquire. Captain of His Majesty's Eighth Dragoons. At your service, ma'am."
I stopped dead when I heard that. There was no way it was possible. Victor Randall had been dead for two hundred years.
Then, of course, my mind started functioning properly again and I remembered that this was just a reenactment and that this man was just pretending to be Scott's ancestor. However, that didn't make the fact that he had Scott's voice and eyes any less creepy. It was, by far, the most unnerving thing I had seen in all my life.
"Now that you know who I am it's only fair that I know who you are," Randall sneered, advancing towards me once again. "After all, I need a name to call out before I pay you for your services."
"How dare ya!" I cried, knowing full well to what he was referring. "Ah'm a married woman not some whore!"
Randall arched an eyebrow. "Is that so now? Then why, pray tell, are you wandering the countryside in such clothing...? Or should I say, lack of?"
"Ah'll have ya know that Ah paid good money fer this!" I shouted back, having had enough of this man's company for my liking. "Now, if ya'll excuse me, Ah'm leavin'."
As I tried to move past him, Randall latched onto my arm. All trace of humour was gone from his face and he was glaring at me openly. "You know I can't do that. Now give me your name, woman, before I have you arrested."
"Mah name is Marie.... Marie Beauchamp," I said, deciding to use my maiden name. It would be too much of a coincidence if he found out we shared the same surname. "An' now that ya know mah name, Ah'll be goin' on mah way."
Randall began to protest my leaving once again. Just as he was latching onto my arm his entire body crumpled in front of me. I stared at him in shock, unsure of what I had just witnessed. There was no possible way that was natural. People didn't just drop of like that. Especially not such young, sturdy looking men.
"Are ye gonna stand there starin' at ‘im all day or were ye actually plannin' on goin' somewhere?"
My head shot up the instant I heard the heavily accented voice. Crouching on a thick branch that stood roughly five feet off the ground was a dark-haired man who couldn't have been more than a few years older than me. He was dressed in a well worn kilt, sturdy boots and a rumpled shirt that was possible white at one point in time but was now a dingy gray in colour.
"Wh... who are ya?" I stammered, slowly backing away from the man in the tree.
With the fluid grace of someone who had spent most of their life in the forest, he jumped down from the branch he was perched on and slowly made his way towards me. "The name's Kurt, Mistress Beauchamp and I'd be quite interested in findin' out why you're wanderin' round the highlands in naught but a shift."
"Ah ain't wearin' a bloody shift!" I shouted, having had enough of people insulting my attire. "This is a dress. A dress that Ah paid good money fer. Now if yer quite done insultin' me, Ah'll be goin' on mah way."
Before I could even blink my eyes I was thrown over Kurt's shoulder. This was quick becoming a position I was seriously disliking. The fact that his hand was resting on my bottom was annoying me even more.
"Put me down!" I screamed, pounding on the small of his back. "Ah'm not some bag o' grain ya can lug around! Put. Me. DOWN!!"
"Will you quit yer yappin', woman," Kurt growled, giving my bottom a slap.
"Ah'm not yappin'! Ah'm protestin' bein' manhandled by a smelly Scotsman! Now let me go!" I informed him, pounding on his back.
Seconds later I was lying on my back in front of the madly grinning Scotsman. He was really starting to make me angry. I growled in frustration and slammed my fists against the ground. This dress was expensive and I didn't want it ruined.
"Now are ye ready ta start cooperatin', lass, or do I need ta sling ye over my shoulder again?" he demanded, placing his fists on his hips.
"Yer an apish bastard," I told him as I scrambled to my feet. I was a couple inches taller than him so I was able to glare down at him. "Now get the hell outta mah way so Ah can leave!"
I got about three feet before I once again found myself on the ground. Embarrassingly enough, it was me tripping that resulting in my painful meeting with the ground. Ignoring Kurt's quiet chucking, I pushed myself to my feet and attempted to leave with more dignity.
"Why do women always have to be so difficult," I heard Kurt say from behind me.
The next thing I remember is waking up sprawled across my stomach on the back of a horse. The fact that my hands seemed to be tied together had me even more worried. I was being kidnapped by some ruthless man who apparently didn't have any qualms about hitting women if my pounding headache was anything to be believed.
Forcing my eyes open, I surveyed the landscape. Unfortunately, none of it was the least bit familiar to me.
"Yer gonna be in so much trouble fer this," I mumbled, lifting my head so that I could glare at Kurt's back. It was ineffective seeing as how he wasn't looking at me, but at least I could pretend that I was having some effect on him.
All that Kurt did was laugh.
"Somehow, I don't think that I'm the one who's gonna be in any trouble."