Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

M ae's eyes slowly fluttered open; her vision greeted by the vivid hues of an expansive cerulean sky stretching above her. A gentle breeze rustled through the grassy field, carrying with it the scent of wildflowers and earth. She propped herself up on her elbows, taking in the panorama before her. The distant sounds of birds chirping and leaves whispering in the wind added to the serene atmosphere.

Confusion settled on her brows as she tried to recall how she ended up in this unfamiliar place. Her surroundings were a stark contrast to the bustling streets of Los Angeles she was accustomed to. The air felt fresher, untainted by the exhaust fumes and urban clamor that permeated her daily life. It was as if she had been transported to a different time and space. The air carried a hint of ocean breeze, but this wasn't the beaches of California.

Gathering her thoughts, Mae rose to her feet and surveyed her surroundings. The field stretched out in all directions, carpeted with vibrant green grass that swayed and danced in rhythm with the wind. The absence of any other human presence made her feel both isolated and curious about her unexpected predicament.

"Hello? Anyone there?" she said. "Where the heck am I?" she mumbled the last words to herself.

She turned around in a circle, realizing that she stood in the shadow of something. Her gaze fell upon the grandeur that loomed before her—a majestic castle perched atop a nearby hill.

"What the… what is that?" she said.

Its stone walls looked battered and rose into the sky, with low stone walls surrounding it. She suddenly remembered her phone in her pocket. She pulled it out and looked at it.

"Crap, no reception."

Mae clutched her cell phone tightly, hoping against hope that she would find a signal in this unfamiliar terrain. Frustration gnawed at her as she tried in vain to make a call, but the lack of reception persisted. She pocketed the useless device, feeling disoriented and lost. With a determined stride, she began her journey toward the hill with the castle, the only building she could see from where she stood.

As she ventured closer, the imposing silhouette of the regal castle emerged large and looming on the hillside. Stone and timber melded together in what looked to be a formidable structure, its weathered exterior carrying the weight of history. The building's strategic placement probably afforded it a commanding view of a lake she could see in the distance on the edge of the hill, lending it an aura of both strength and mystery. Mae's steps quickened as she continued her approach, drawn to the building like a moth to a flame.

The details of the building came into focus as she drew nearer the bottom of the hill. Its walls were covered in intricate carvings and weathered markings that had to be deep in the wood to be seen from the bottom of the hill. Towering timber walls and sturdy stone towers seemed to guard its perimeters. She could just make out an iron gate that blocked access to the inner part of what had to be a courtyard surrounding the building. She could see people there, in the towers, but they were shadowed and too far away still to make out what they were doing or who the might be.

Mae's mind raced with questions; her curiosity piqued by the enigmatic sight before her. How had she ended up here, far from the familiar comforts of Los Angeles? Was this some elaborate historical reenactment, or had she stumbled upon something more extraordinary? Maybe some rich person had a castle erected in the hills of Northern California. She'd heard of a few who'd had old Scottish and English castles brought to the States and rebuilt them here. Maybe that's what this was?

She continued moving toward the castle, her steps guided by a mix of trepidation and determination. Her past had honed her instincts for control and situational awareness, and now she yearned to regain that sense of command. The air crackled with an undercurrent of urgency, urging her to seek answers. She needed to find a way back to something familiar. She needed to find a phone. And what had happened to that cab driver? And her bag? Neither had been around when she'd woken up.

Mae's gaze shifted from the building to the surrounding landscape, taking in the expanse of farmland and what could only be described as moors that stretched into the distance. Moors? In California? She shook her head. An unsettled feeling filled her as she looked about. Nothing here was familiar. It didn't feel like California, but she had no idea where she could possibly be. It didn't make sense.

Her gaze took in several dark copses dotting the edges of the river, which added an air of mystique to the picturesque scene and confirmed her suspicion that she was nowhere near Los Angeles. She came upon a crossroad and saw a wooden sign post reading Ballygrant , which she thought might be the nearest town. She hesitated, contemplating taking the treacherous looking road toward the town, but something cautioned her against taking the risk.

She'd never heard of a town in California named Ballygrant, and she wondered what kind of place it was. Was she even in California anymore? Had she somehow ended up in Oregon, or maybe Nevada? Why couldn't she remember, she wondered.

Mae pressed on, seeking answers, and hopefully a phone.

She cautiously stepped onto the dirt road between a group of stone and thatch-roofed cottages that sprawled at the bottom of the hill. As she followed the dirt road toward the castle, the gazes of the people there fell upon her. She could sense their curiosity, their eyes lingering on her clothing that contrasted with the clothing they wore. It reminded her of something out of the show Outlander, which she'd seen a few times. The vibrant hues of blue and green plaid dresses and kilts, were very different from her jeans, boots, and sweater.

Was it possible she'd somehow been drugged and dropped in Scotland? The idea was absurd. Surely she'd have noticed a plane trip across the world, right? She laughed to herself. This had to be some sort of tv stage set or something. It couldn't be real.

The bustling little area seemed like one of those villages you'd see in period dramas, complete with everything you'd expect to see on the show to make it look authentic. A blacksmith hammered away at iron, his rhythmic strikes echoing through the air. Sheep grazed within small corrals, while others roamed freely across the hillside. Women, their arms burdened with heavy baskets filled with what she was sure had to be vegetables, moved purposefully along the road. And there, close to the edge of the road, about fifty yards from the lake she'd seen, a man diligently salted freshly caught fish on a wooden table.

Everyday life unfolded before Mae's eyes, a captivating tableau that both intrigued and bewildered her. She felt like an outsider in this tapestry of authenticity, yearning to make sense of her surroundings. She started looking for tv cameras but could find none. It was all so surreal, and she felt nervous as she looked around. Finally, Mae mustered the courage to break the silence as she approached a woman coming toward her on the road.

"Hello," Mae ventured, her voice filled with hope. "Can I use your phone? I need to make a phone call."

The woman with the basket halted in her tracks, her gaze fixed upon Mae. A moment of anticipation hung in the air, but the woman remained silent, her expression inscrutable.

Undeterred, Mae pressed on, hoping for some semblance of understanding. "Okay, well, can you at least tell me where I am?" she implored, feeling a touch of desperation.

The woman, as if possessed by an unseen force, scurried away without uttering a single word, leaving Mae with nothing but unanswered questions and a growing sense of isolation.

Confusion swirled in Mae's mind as she stood amidst the bustling little town, the inhabitants wrapped up in their own lives, unwilling to help her. Maybe they were actors afraid to break character? she wondered.

Mae's patience wore thin as the people continued to avert their gazes whenever her eyes met theirs. She couldn't help but feel a sense of alienation, as though she was an intruder in their world. Just as her frustration threatened to consume her, a drunken figure, swathed in a brown and green plaid kilt, stumbled toward her.

She took in the man's features—medium height, delicate features that bordered on femininity, and lustrous blond hair. His gray eyes, bloodshot most likely from the effects of whisky or some other form of alcohol, held a glint of hunger as they fixated upon her and sent a sliver of fear through her. The pungent aroma of alcohol emanated from him, wafting through the air before he even uttered a word. Mae braced herself, her streetwise instincts kicking in, preparing to confront this intoxicated man.

"Lass," he slurred, his words thick with an accent she was surprised to hear, "are you a woman o' pleasure, then?"

Mae recoiled in disgust at his proposition, her indignation simmering beneath the surface. "What the heck is that supposed to mean?" she retorted; her voice laced with scorn. Did he think she was a hooker? What the heck would give him that idea?

The drunken man leered at her; his intentions clear. "You ken what it means, girl. You be wearin' trousers, and yer hair is down. So, how much for yer time?"

Mae's eyes widened in anger at how this Scotsman was treating her. She was about to unleash her wrath upon him when another man intervened, stepping between them.

The newcomer exuded an air of authority and strength, his presence commanding attention. His rugged features and piercing gaze conveyed a sense of determination. He had arrived in the nick of time, rescuing Mae from the intoxicated intruder. Tension crackled in the air as the two men locked eyes, each sizing up the other.

Mae seized the opportunity to regain her composure, taking a step back from the drunken man and focusing her attention on her unexpected savior. She couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude mixed with curiosity.

The new man stood tall and lean, and she could see his muscles bulge in his linen shirt, which meant he was strong too. With his short, curly reddish blond hair and piercing blue eyes, he possessed a rugged charm that instantly captivated Mae.

This man, who also wore the vibrant blue and green plaid fabric over his linen shirt and a kilt to match, turned to the drunken man, and firmly stated, "Be gone, and donnae trouble the lass any further."

The intruder resisted, and said, "Mind yer business."

This prompted her savior to forcefully shove the drunk away, ensuring he understood the gravity of the situation. Once the drunk man had retreated with a few choice curse words she couldn't really make out, the man who'd rescued her redirected his attention to Mae.

He offered her a warm smile and said, "I apologize for his behavior, lass. You shouldnae have had to endure such disrespect."

Grateful for his intervention, Mae expressed her gratitude, saying, "Thanks for steppin' in. That took some guts. Most guys would have just ignored what was going on."

The man, his brow furrowed in confusion, looked her over and she was sure he was just now noticing how differently she was dressed from him. He tilted his head slightly and asked, "What manner of speech is that you use? And why are you dressed so differently?"

Mae was filled with amusement as she replied, "Well, I could ask you the same question, though I know it's gotta be Scottish. Which would be odd if I didn't already know I couldn't be in California anymore. So where am I? And while I recognize that you are using a Scottish accent, I have to wonder why you're speakin' with such an old dialect of it? Are you filming a tv show? Is this some kind of set for Outlander ? Or some other movie?"

A flicker of what seemed like realization crossed the man's face. His grin was one of curiosity as he said, "You must be a traveler from a distant land, brought here by an enchantment, like Jennifer. Fate or maybe tis the fae playing tricks upon us of late, lass."

Mae's eyes widened, as she feared for the man's sanity. "What?" Nothing he'd just said made any sense to her.

The man's commanding voice pierced through the air, calling out to a young boy on the road. "You there, Brodie, come here."

The boy, who had strawberry blond hair and brown eyes came over to join them. He looked to be about nine years old, and Mae wondered why he wasn't in school.

"Aye, sir? What do you need from me?"

"Run up to the fort on the hill and deliver a message to the Chief for me," he ordered. "Tell him Niall has come across another like Lady Jennifer. Ask him if he will meet us at the gate. Go on now, be quick about it, Brodie."

"Aye, sir." Brodie nodded and hurried off, leaving the man she now knew was Niall to turn his attention back to her.

She couldn't suppress the laughter that bubbled up within her, finding the situation utterly absurd. A Chief? Where the heck was she? She couldn't help but feel she was caught in some strange reenactment scenario.

Niall's smile grew wide as he inquired, "What is it, lass?" He tilted his head, his gaze curious as he studied her. "What's so diverting? You seem to be quite amused by something, but I cannae fathom what that might be."

After composing herself, Mae finally responded, "I'll admit it, I'm amused, but also really confused. What's happening here? Am I part of some Renaissance faire or a silly tv show? Is this like that practical jokers show? I can't handle any more of this madness, right now, I need you to break character, please." Her amusement faded to worry with her words.

Niall's expression shifted, and he looked concerned. "I ken not what you mean, lass," he replied, sounding earnest. "I suppose you must be very confused with all of this. Lady Jen was as well, I believe. Perhaps I should explain a bit. You are on the isle of Islay, in Scotland. This," he swept his arm to encompass the hill with the castle as well as the grouping of homes around them, "is Fort Donald. But fear not, yer confusion shall be eased once you speak with Lady Jennifer. She shares in your peculiar circumstances, though perhaps your stories differ in origins. If you accompany me to the fort gate, I do believe that she will provide you with the answers you seek and can explain much better than I. She's the wife of our Chief, Cam MacDonald."

Mae hesitated, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. She battled with her own inner turmoil, aware of the risks that awaited her. She had developed a keen sense of caution in her past life, always wary of potential tricks. Yet, the allure of finding a phone and unraveling the mysteries surrounding her compelled her to consider Niall's offer.

Contemplating her options, Mae weighed the potential dangers against her desperate need for answers. She couldn't deny the attraction she felt toward Niall, sensing a genuine kindness in his eyes. Perhaps this journey held more than just the promise of communication—it could hold the key to unlocking the truth of her predicament and that was very much worth the risk of going with him up the hill to the castle gate she could just make out from where she stood.