Chapter Seventeen
Edward looked a mess. He hated the middle ages. He hated Scotland. It was nothing but mud and wind and rain and there was nothing to look at. All he could see were miserable mountains that contained no food, empty fields that contained no food and no shops.
It had taken weeks to track down Kerry since she so stupidly fell into the river. He finally heard a rumor she was in an abbey and he got there in time to find out she’d left. Would the monks give him a meal and some clean clothes? Only if he joined them in a service. Like that was ever going to happen. Those god botherers weren’t going to hook him into their nonsense. They might believe in fairies in the sky but not him. He laughed at their suggested deal and headed back north to look for her, stealing food from anywhere he could manage to find it.
The last two days he hadn’t eaten the thing. The last meal he’d had was a loaf of bread snatched out of the hand of a whining child in a village that was as muddy as he was. That meal had earned him a chase from a farmer with an ax and he’d barely gotten away.
The chase was meant to happen though because running from that brought him toward Kerry. He found her not long after finally losing his pursuer.
She was walking with the woman she’d pointed out at the old hall. Edward didn’t know what they were doing together. What he did know was if he followed them long enough he should be able to get hold of her again. Then it would be a simple matter of going back through the portal and getting clean, scrape away the filth of this disgusting place and get back to normal. He might even make her wash him, the first step to paying him back for everything she’d put him through.
There would be a lot more pay back for all this, he thought as he tracked her and her companion. He was able to warm himself with thoughts of slapping her across the face, seeing the shocked look that always came when he taught her a lesson.
She couldn’t be left alone, that much was obvious. Let go of her for one minute and she was off almost drowning. That wouldn’t happen again, not on his watch. He’d keep a much closer eye on her when they got back. She’d be lucky if he ever let her out of the house again.
He followed the pair of them into a wood. The driving rain made it hard to keep track of where they were headed and by the time he was inside the treeline they’d vanished.
He did his best to find them, searching the wood until dawn but he saw nothing but his own footsteps.
He emerged the next morning with no idea where he was. He couldn’t even tell which way he was heading. He would have killed for a compass.
Eventually he made it to the old hall. It seemed to have taken weeks but it was no more than a couple of days. There was no sign of her the entire journey but that didn’t matter.
He had passed by some dumb farmer on an empty cart and found out from him where she was.
When he described Kerry the farmer smiled a black toothed smile of recognition. “Rode south with Callum MacCleod not two days ago.”
Edward kept the smile on his own face until he was far in front of the farmer. That was her game was it? Get back together with that highland imbecile? Was she as thick as him?
Edward made his mind up as he walked. The plan was simple. Go back through the portal and get some nice modern weapon. The farmer had given him the idea. Get hold of a gun. Come back. Kill Callum. Take Kerry home with him where she belonged.
It was a simple plan but there was one flaw to it. A flaw he only discovered when he reached the hall.
Someone had knocked the doorway down. He tried piling the stones back up but when he walked through nothing happened. The magic, whatever it had been, was gone.
He lost it. Something inside his mind snapped. He couldn’t get back to the future and it was all their fault.
He headed south once more. Encrusted with filth he muttered to himself as he went. “Stuck here in the middle ages. No soap. No showers. No TV. No car. Freezing cold and filthy and it’s all their fault. No way back. They’re laughing at me right now. I bet they’re having great chucks about old Edward. Well, they won’t be laughing when I catch up with them. Let them laugh. See how that Scots prick laughs with a knife in his back. And her? She’ll get me clean and maybe I’ll run his stupid clan for a while, make her my wife. I might not be able to get back but I can make them pay for keeping me here. They’ll pay all right. They’ll both pay.”
He continued ranting as he walked. Anyone who saw him gave him a wide berth. They recognized madness when they saw it.
He kept walking, knowing he would get to MacCleod castle soon enough. And he did.
When he saw it he knew at once he was there. He could feel the two of them in there. He could almost hear them pointing and laughing at him as he approached.
If the guards had been paying attention he would never have made it inside. They were too busy with the wedding preparations to notice what he did.
Edward watched them from behind a tree. He waited until a cart rolled past covered in rushes. With a single leap he buried himself inside the rushes, breathing in their warmth, feeling heat return to his limbs for the first time in days.
He listened as they continued arguing with a man who wanted paying up front for his eggs. While the argument continued the cart was able to roll straight past and then he was in the courtyard.
Sliding out from his hiding place he looked about him. He wouldn’t have long before someone noticed him. He needed to move fast. Where would they be?
He went to the kitchen first. The cook noticed him and yelled at him to leave, chasing him out of the door. Hiding behind an archery target he watched the cook talking to one of the guards, no doubt looking for him. They wouldn’t find him until it was too late. He only needed a minute. It wouldn’t take long to do what he planned.
“Get me stuck here in this hellhole,” he muttered as he emerged from behind the target and made his way over to the keep. They were bound to be in there.
The place was busy which played in his favor. No one noticed as he looked in one room and then the next, all the time fingering the knife in his back pocket. Maybe he’d mark her with his initials. Let all these bumpkins know she belonged to him, not their idiotic laird.
