by Mariah Stone
“I didna mean to be so dramatic,” she said. “But ‘tis hard. I dinna ken what to think. I thought when a man touched me, all my body was capable of was pain.”
Konnor turned to her and cupped her face with his big, rough palm. “You have no idea how much I want to kill the monster that did that to you.” She leaned into his palm and closed her eyes, enjoying the warm touch of him. “Your body was made to sing under the touch of a man who loves and worships you.”
She let those words wash over her for a long, sweet moment. A man who loved her… Worshiped her…
No, that wasn’t possible for her after Alasdair. She’d forever be tainted. Impure. Spoiled by evil. No man would ever want to connect his life with hers—and she’d never want to imprison anyone in a marriage with an unworthy, cowardly wife.
Invisible shields rose around her heart, hiding it in an iron cocoon. Strange. She hadn’t even noticed she had let them down with Konnor.
And even stranger was that she didn’t want them up when he was around. Her body did sing under his touch.
“Konnor, ye’re verra kind with me. But I dinna think any man would want to.”
His gaze seized her with the depth of its blue darkness. “You have no idea how wrong you are.”
She went still in response to the hunger in his voice. The whole wall threatened to lurch and crumble from the possibility of what he was implying… That happiness was real for her, that someone could love her.
Konnor?
The shields went up again, spreading coldness through her chest. She wanted to believe. She wanted to see a future where sweet kisses existed. Where nights wouldn’t be full of loneliness and pain, but of warmth and singing and love. Where Konnor would be by her side every day. Where she’d feel brave, safe, and secure.
But Alasdair had taught her a lesson she’d never forget.
Besides, Konnor had made it very clear he needed to go back to take care of his mother. How would she feel if Colin one day disappeared without a word?
“’Tis late, Konnor.” She peeled herself off the wall. “I better go to sleep. And ye, too. Let yer leg heal. On the morrow, we shall continue practice. I would like to train ye, but if ye’d rather spar with Tamhas, I will accept that.”
He opened his mouth to say something but looked down and closed it. Then he gave her a soft, heartwarming smile.
“You’re right, Marjorie. I’ll only train with you. As long as you have me.”
The next day, Marjorie watched Konnor approach her as he walked out of the tower. Her breath held, and her mouth went dry as she stared at the bulges of his biceps, the broad, hard pecs, and the hard stomach hugged by the thin linen tunic that the wind pressed against his skin.
He caught her gaze as he walked, and the somber, gray day grew brighter around her, colors became vivid, and sounds around her trailed into the distance, replaced by the loud thumping of her heart.
She realized his stubble was growing darker and longer on his chin, and with his hair gathered at the back of his head, he looked like a man from her time in the tunic and breeches, even with his big shoes.
He looked like a powerful lord, with his strong physique, his straight, proud back, and his dark gaze, the gaze of a man who’d seen death and seen the world. The way he looked at her melted her bones and set her marrow simmering.
She wondered about his life in his time. What did his home look like? What did that bewitched iron carriage that he drove look like?
He’d soon leave her, she realized. He’d soon go back to his future world with all those magical things. He had someone who needed him. He didn’t belong here. But why did she hate that thought so much?
He stood before her, and a slow grin spread on his lips. “Good morning, Marjorie,” he said, and her knees wobbled.
“Good morning to ye, too, Konnor,” she said and handed him the training stick. As he took it, their fingers touched, sending a pleasant jolt through her. “Ready?”
He took the stick with both hands, just like she’d taught him. “Ready to kick your butt.”
She forced the corners of her mouth to stay down, though his words brought a strange sense of elation into her core, like the freedom of a gentle wind moving across the purple-green hills of the Highlands.
She took up her position as well. “This time,” she said, “aim to surprise me.”
He cocked his head to the side in response, walked three steps towards her and brought his stick down in a sweeping motion, aiming for her head. With a sharp knock, she deflected it and he went from another side. The courtyard filled with a rhythmical, wooden clatter.
Their eyes locked. He stroked to the side, and she deflected, but he started an onrush of strikes. She glided back as he pushed forward. He wasn’t bad for the second day of training, she found herself thinking. Unlike other beginners, Konnor’s movements had both strength and grace to them. Where inexperienced lads locked their knees, his were bent, giving him the ability to move easily and react quickly. His shoulders were straight, and he kept his balance.
Perhaps, by the end of the day, she could start training him on actual swords and even give him a shield. The strength of his blows reverberated in her arms and shoulders, making her muscles ache dully.
Clunk, clunk, clunk, went the sticks.
Thump, thump, thump, went her heart.
He stepped forward, and she stepped back. They became one in this dance. She’d never had a sense like that in all her years of training, not with any of her sparring mates. What would it be like to be one with him, as a woman and a man, no swords and no wooden sticks, and no clothes?
Yesterday’s kiss invaded her mind. She’d melted from his hot, soft lips against hers. His tongue had gently probed and teased and played. His strong arms had wrapped around her without imprisoning her. They’d protected.
Uplifted.
Worshiped…
A hard blow came at her shoulder.
“Ow!” she spat, and a wave of irritation at herself prickled through her.
He stopped and stood with his stick facing down. “You okay?”
That strange word from the future… Okay. He must be asking if she was all right. Her shoulder stung, but her pride hurt more. She was the master here, and yet she’d let her student distracted her with his kiss. She clenched her jaw, her fist tightening around the stick.
In a lightning-fast strike, she pierced the air right in front of his heart. Her stick pushed at his ribs just as he lifted his arm to deflect her attack.
“Defend yerself!” she gritted through her teeth as she pivoted to give him another hard blow.
As her stick met his with a loud knock, she promised herself not to give him any slack and not to get distracted by him or the effect he had on her anymore. She was a warrior first. This wasn’t a dance, and he wasn’t courting her.
This was war, and she was training another warrior who’d help her protect her son and her castle. Nothing more than that. No matter how beautiful it had felt to be with him and how sweet the air was when he was nearby.
She’d better guard her heart against him, because he’d either die in the battle with MacDougalls or leave her and go back to his time. The thought of losing him made her ache.
Chapter 20
The sun hung low over the hills on the other side of the loch when Konnor went for a swim. He’d been training with Marjorie pretty much the whole day. After he’d accidentally hit her, she’d given him a run for his money, and by the end, he’d been drenched in sweat. Later, they’d started training with swords, and seeing her with one was an experience. Precise movements, calculated strikes, and deceptive maneuvers, she used her brain and her body to fight—and the combination was striking.
After the swim, Konnor washed the tunic and the breeches he’d been given earlier, and now he walked from the loch back towards the castle with them under his armpit. He was shirtless, walking in the new breeches that a servant had given him. Konnor enjoyed the clean feel of his body. His
muscles sang pleasantly, like they did every time after good exercise. Especially after one with Marjorie. He’d take training like that with her every day.
The slight breeze was pleasant on his bare chest and back. He ignored the sharp pain that shot through him when he stepped on his injured leg. His ankle would be fine. He’d had worse injuries.
He breathed in a lungful of fresh, pure air. No plane contrails in the sky, no pollution, no plastic bags or water bottles swimming around in the loch. The castle stood three hundred yards away, and Konnor saw with satisfaction that the pile of rubble against the wall had been cleaned away, and the men were putting sharp stakes in the ground under the northern tower, just like he’d suggested. Up the wall, the mixture of iron and wooden spikes, and even kitchen knives were being hammered into the wall.
That made him feel so much better about their chances of surviving the siege. Though there was still no sign of the enemy.
The men at the base of the wall moved slowly, visibly tired after a whole day of heavy work. They stopped from time to time, leaning on the shovels and wiping sweat from their foreheads, no doubt anticipating dinner after an honest day of work, just like Konnor was. Yeah, dinner in Marjorie’s company and a cup of cool ale was be all he’d want right now.
He hadn’t seen Marjorie for a short time—probably not even an hour had gone by, but he already missed her. A dull ache in his chest at the sight of the castle scraped at his heart. What was Marjorie doing now?
Damn it. He’d never thought about a woman as much as he thought of her. It felt like ever since he’d met her, he’d expanded somehow, changed. He’d opened up to her about Jerry, and what he’d done to him, and she’d accepted him, not gasped in horror. She’d even kissed him…
It felt like his chest was so full with her—with a whirlwind of light, and bliss, and gratitude. He was so full with these feelings that his heart was about to burst open like a ripe watermelon.
What did it mean?
He was screwed, that was what it meant.
He was in over his head, forgetting his promise not to get attached, not to get emotionally involved. Fear chilled his bones and marrow. He was not falling for her, was he?
As he walked, he saw a small bunch of green hazelnuts surrounded by leaves with sharp ends lying on the ground. When his dad was alive, Konnor and he had kicked a soccer ball together in the backyard. That was how Konnor’s fondness for soccer had started. After his dad died, Konnor didn’t touch a soccer ball. He’d missed his dad so much, playing had been too painful. But while he waited for the school bus, he’d bounce pinecones or hazelnut bunches to occupy his time. Later, when Jerry started tearing Konnor’s and his mom’s lives apart, soccer hadn’t been painful anymore.
Playing soccer became a salvation. An escape. A way to feel closer to his dad. Perhaps, that’s why he’d been so good at it and become team captain. Same with the Marines.
He stopped before a hazelnut cluster and kicked it, smiling to himself as he did. Even here, seven hundred years back in the past, he felt like his dad watched over him.
He kept kicking the hazelnut bunch and didn’t notice how he close he’d come to the castle. He was already in front of the gates when Marjorie and Colin walked out, and Konnor’s heart gave a lurch at the sight of her. Their eyes locked and connected. She gave him a small wave, and he raised his hand to wave back.
She blinked as she looked him over and blushed. If he could, he’d show her how much he wanted to press her against him, skin-to-skin, to feel her naked and trembling against him. But he couldn’t. Konnor swallowed and put a fresh tunic on. She looked away.
An image came to his mind—of her watching him coming back from a hunt, beaming with joy and love and happiness, Colin and perhaps another child or two with broad smiles. A normal, daily routine, people who cared about him, who depended on him.
A family.
A family? Who was he kidding? He had no idea what a normal, daily life was. He knew he didn’t want to be like Jerry. He knew he didn’t want to have a family like the one he’d grown up in. Even when his dad was alive, he’d been deployed more than he was ever home, and Konnor only had a couple of memories of him. So what could he offer a woman with an eleven-year old son?
Absolutely nothing.
Even if he did try, he’d never be able to stay here. His mom needed him. His business was waiting for him. What kind of fantasy was he indulging in?
This heart-expanding bullshit and the elation in his chest was just an illusion.
He kicked the hazelnut bunch with his knee straight up and caught it. Marjorie and Colin stopped, waiting for him to approach. The boy stared at him with a suspicious frown.
Marjorie stood behind him. She’d changed into a simple dress the color of heather with white embroidery on the chest. Her hair was done in two buns, one on either side of her head and decorated with white ribbons woven into the hair. She looked like a noble medieval lady from a fairy tale. And despite the more feminine look than her usual breeches and a tunic, she had a dagger on the belt around her thin waist.
Breathtaking.
He only just stopped himself from dropping to one knee and swearing allegiance to her like a goddamn knight. He was losing his mind. She dressed like this for dinner, but she looked especially beautiful tonight.
“Is there a special occasion?” he said as he came close.
She seemed to blush even more. “Nae. I dinna normally dress in breeches, Konnor. This is how I dress every day. The work for today is done.” She threw a cautious glance at Colin. “But ‘tis good to feel normal, especially with the danger looming over us.”
Colin crossed his arms over his chest and blinked several times, watching somewhere behind Konnor’s back. Konnor followed his gaze but saw nothing, only the rare woods and grassy hills along the shore of Loch Awe. The boy looked anxious, breathing quickly, his face pale.
He was probably more shaken than Konnor had realized from the attempted kidnapping. Konnor locked his eyes with Marjorie and nodded in understanding.
“Of course, we do need to feel normal.”
“See. ‘Tis all calm. Dinna be afraid, sweet,” Marjorie said. “With me and Konnor and all these men, no one will take ye.”
Colin raised his chin, though he was still pale. “I’m nae afraid, Mother.”
Konnor nodded. The boy needed a distraction, and maybe even cheering up.
“Hey, buddy, do you want to learn a game?”
His eyes lit up. “A game?”
“It’s called soccer.”
“Soccer?”
“Yeah. It’s a game where I come from.”
His eyes burned with curiosity. “A game?”
Konnor glanced at Marjorie. Somehow, having her near made him feel less awkward with the boy. Plus, talking soccer was something he was comfortable with.
“’Tis all right,” she said. “He isna allowed to go outside the castle normally, but ye’re here, and I’m here, and my men are building the stakes nearby, so I think ‘tis safe. Ye can show him.”
Konnor chuckled. “All right. Look, Colin, soccer is normally a game for two teams of eleven people. But even two people can play. Even one sometimes. We do need a ball for it. But sometimes all a man needs is a hazelnut bunch.”
Konnor looked at Marjorie. “Would you like to play?”
She giggled. “Me?”
“Sure. If you want.”
“I’d like to learn games from the future.” Her eyes sparkled.
Colin looked at him with wide eyes. “From the future?”
Marjorie bit her lip. “I shouldna have said anything, should I?” She sighed. “Colin, son, ye must keep this a secret, aye?”
Colin nodded. “I swear on my life, Mother.”
Marjorie sank down to kneel in front of him. She took his hands in hers, and Konnor’s gut twisted in memory. How many times had his mom sunk to her knees to be at the same eye level with him as a kid when she’d wanted to calm him down or say someth
ing important, to make him feel like she understood him. But usually it was to feed him one illusion after another. “Jerry will change. It will be over soon. We just need to let him heal and come back to his senses. He’ll stop, we just need to be patient. He’s unwell.”
“Konnor is a time traveler,” she said. “He was sent here by a Highland faerie.”
“Sìneag,” Konnor said without thinking.
Colin’s eyebrows lifted into the thick bangs on his forehead. “A Highland faerie?”
“Yeah,” Konnor mumbled. “I was born—or will be born—almost seven hundred years in the future.”
“Seven hundred?” Colin repeated with an expression of wonder.
Konnor wondered how his young brain would’ve reacted to meeting someone born in 2700. He’d have loved the idea of something like that when he was Colin’s age.
“Yeah,” Konnor repeated like an idiot.
The boy’s gaze scanned him up and down, and he felt uncomfortable.
“Mother, are ye certain?” he said. “I ken that faeries dinna exist.”
“Apparently, they do,” she said. “What do ye think about that?”
“I think… I think I’d like to see the future. What are swords made of, Konnor? Are castles made of gold? Or glass? Does King Robert the Bruce win?”
Konnor chuckled. “Yeah, the Bruce does win the war. And some castle are made of glass, though they do look quite different. Some are taller than that tree.” He pointed at the tallest tree in the nearby grove—a pine. Gold is still very valuable.”
“Tell him about the carriages that drive themselves,” Marjorie said.
“Yeah. There are carriages that drive themselves, no horses needed.”
Colin stared at him. “Are they driven by magic?”
“No. By engineering.”
“What is engineering?”
Konnor chuckled. At least the boy didn’t hate him. He seemed to be enjoying the conversation. “Well, science is about how things work. What makes an arrow shoot from a bow, or how to make a wheel turn better and allow a cart move faster. Or how to design a boat or a sail so that it catches more wind.”
