by Mariah Stone
Colin glanced at the loch. “How do ye catch more wind?”
“I don’t know. But engineers in my time do.”
“C-can I look at the future, too? Mother, can I?”
Marjorie pursed her lips. “I’m sorry, sweet, I’d like to see all those wonders, too, but we canna. Our life is here.”
And Konnor’s was in the twenty-first century. That was the sad reality.
Konnor clapped his hands together once. “All right. Who’s ready to play a game from the future?”
“Me!” Colin cried.
Marjorie giggled, and her laughter was like a bell ringing. Konnor wished he could make her laugh like that every day. “And me.”
Her laughter was infectious, and their combined excitement kindled joy in his chest, too. “Great. Marjorie, you’ll be a goalkeeper. Stand here.” He walked to a spot between two bushes with about four feet of space between them. “This will be the goal.” He raised the bunch with four hazelnuts. “This will be a ball. Colin, we need to kick this into the goal. Marjorie, protect the gate and try to deflect the ball and not let it pass through. We’ll count who manages to score the most goals, and that person wins. You can only use your feet and your head though. You’re not allowed to touch the ball with your hands. Got it?”
Colin nodded enthusiastically. “Aye.”
Konnor put the hazelnut bunch on the ground, swung his leg back, and kicked it into the makeshift gate. Marjorie stepped into the direction of the bunch, but was too late, and it flew by her and into the gate.
Konnor raised his arms in the air and made a half-hearted triumphant run. “Yeah!”
Marjorie and Colin watched him with amusement.
“So it’s one point for me,” he said. “Colin, you try now.”
Colin beamed. Marjorie threw him the bunch, he caught it and put on the ground. He kicked it but missed.
“It’s okay,” Konnor said and came closer. “Try again.”
Colin aimed his shoe at the bunch and kicked again, but this time he only scratched the surface of the bunch, and it rolled diagonally. Damn it. The thing was too small for pointy shoes.
“It’s too small. What we need, is a ball,” Konnor said and demonstrated the size with his hands.
“A ball? Where can we get one?”
A lightbulb moment illuminated everything around Konnor. It was ridiculous that he was enjoying this so much. Perhaps he wasn’t so bad with kids. Colin did look more cheerful and seemed to have forgotten about the kidnappers.
“We can make one.” What could he use though? He scratched his chin. “I think the easiest would be to take a small heap of hay and wrap a layer or two of a hemp rope around it, like a yarn ball, to hold it. Later, I can help you make a real ball. What do you think, buddy?”
Colin looked at Marjorie. “Ma, ye dinna mind if I make a soccer ball with Konnor?”
Marjorie’s eyes connected with his, and there was so much gratitude and light in it that it took his breath away.
“I dinna mind, sweet.”
Chapter 21
The hay ball worked great, and although Marjorie had to go and inspect today’s work while there was still light, Konnor and Colin had a great time playing with the ball outside of the castle. Colin was clearly happy to be out of the walls for a while, and Konnor felt honored that Marjorie entrusted him with the boy’s safety.
Once the sun set and the sky was painted in a dark indigo mixed with orange and red, Colin started getting tired. Konnor took Colin back into the castle, and they had a meal together in the great hall, where Konnor told Colin more about the future: the cars, the boats, and the planes.
Unfortunately, he’d soon return to his time, and the boy would need to stay here. Talking of the twenty-first century, he thought again of his mother, and worry for her jabbed him in the gut. She was all right, he told himself. She was fine. She still had money. And she had people to look after her if something went wrong.
The best thing he could do was keep himself busy and help preparing for the attack by improving his sword-fighting skills and helping with the fortifications of the castle.
Next morning, after a breakfast of porridge, Konnor went outside the castle walls to see if he could help plant the stakes in the ground. About ten men worked there, including Muir and Tamhas.
Malcolm was showing a man how to cut the sharp edge of the stake. White saw shavings fell from under the blade of the ax, filling the air with the scent of fresh wood.
Konnor stopped next to Malcolm. “Do you need an extra pair of hands?”
Malcolm looked him over, estimating. “Aye, lad. Always.” He nodded at Tamhas and Muir, who were digging holes in the ground at the base of the northern wall. “Ye can plant the stakes that are ready in the holes. Muir can help.” He pointed at the heap of long, wooden stakes lying nearby.
“Sure,” he said.
Muir approached him and greeted Konnor with a short. They took the stake together. It was damn heavy, and Konnor’s arms strained with its weight. Both men put the stake on their shoulders and carried it to the trench where other stakes had been planted.
Tamhas had just finished digging a hole and glanced at Konnor with a frown. His nostrils flared once.
“On my count,” Konnor said. “One, two, three.”
He put the end of the stake into the hole, and both Konnor and Muir held it at a forty-five-degree angle while Tamhas was put shovels of dirt over the planted end.
“I saw ye playing something with Colin and the mistress,” Tamhas growled as he shoved the dirt. “Dinna ye dare get too close to her.”
“Tamhas, lad, calm down,” Muir said.
“Dinna patronize me, Muir,” he barked across his shoulder. “I wilna stand and watch this stranger hurt our mistress and Colin.”
“The last thing I want is to hurt her,” Konnor growled through his teeth, his biceps aching from the weight of the stake. “Or her son.”
“Well. That remains to be seen.” Tamhas stabbed the ground with the shovel, and moved dirt into the hole.
“Work faster,” Muir said. “This stake is nae a feather. Have ye done this before, Konnor? How did ye ken how to improve the fortifications?”
Konnor cleared his throat. Although Konnor and Isbeil knew about him being from another time, he was pretty sure it wasn’t a great idea to tell everyone. Didn’t they burn witches and such in Middle Ages?
“No. Just common sense. I have fought for my country, though, so I know military tactics.”
“And what country is that?” Tamhas said.
Damn. He shouldn’t have said that. “I doubt you know it. It’s far away.”
Tamhas threw another batch of dirt. “Ye dinna think I ken other kingdoms? I’m a Cambel, too, from my mother’s side. I was fostered with Marjorie and her brothers and educated by the monks just as Craig, Owen, and Domhnall. I can read and write.”
The log was pressing on Konnor’s chest, making it hard for him to breathe. He shifted it to move the weight a little. “I never said you couldn’t, man. It’s in the west. No one knows it.”
“What is in the west, actually?” Muir grunted. The weight was getting to him, too.
“Ireland,” Tamhas said. “Are ye a gallowglass?”
What the hell was a gallowglass? He hoped it was some sort of warrior.
“Sure,” he said. “I am.”
“Aye. Makes sense. They’re brutal. Dinna the MacLeods provide Ireland with gallowglasses?”
“I say he’s full of shite,” Tamhas said.
“Ah stop it,” Muir said. “The lad saved Colin when the MacDougalls came into his bedroom. And he was injured. I have enough sense in me to ken he is an asset. Did ye learn to fight like that in Ireland?”
Konnor cleared his throat. “Nae. A master of judo came to teach the Chinese art of combat. This is where I learned it from.”
Muir slowly nodded, contemplating the information. “Simple fists, elbows, and knees nae suffice?”
“Actual
ly, they do,” Konnor said. “Only used differently.”
Tamhas threw the last patch of dirt and placed a pitch pole under the stake to prop it up at the correct angle. Konnor and Muir removed their arms, and relief surged through Konnor as blood flowed down into his hands.
“Next stake,” Muir said and walked to the pile.
Konnor turned to join him when Tamhas caught him by the shoulder. His eyes glistened with a contained threat. “Ye stay away from her, ye son of a bitch.”
A bolt of anger slashed through Konnor’s gut. “Don’t provoke me, man.”
Maybe Tamhas saw something in Konnor’s eyes, because his expression turned challenging.
“Dinna provoke ye?” he said. “And what happens if I do?”
He pushed Konnor’s shoulder. Red crept into Konnor’s vision. Calm down, he said to himself. This isn’t high school. You know how to handle this. Remember what you did to Jerry…
But it raged within him, the need to punch Tamhas in the face. He remembered his stepfather. His bloody, swollen face, the completely shut eye, the broken nose. All because of Konnor’s hands.
No. He needed to be stronger than the young man who lost control. Stronger than Jerry.
“Go to hell,” Konnor said and turned around to follow Muir, but Tamhas turned him around.
“I dinna care if Robert the Bruce himself trained ye. Ye stay away from Marjorie, outlander. I see how she looks at ye, and how the lad is excited. Ye’ll die in the battle or will be gone soon anyways. And I’ll be left to gather the pieces of her heart. She fell apart once and could barely pick herself up. Dinna repeat the experience for her, do ye hear me?”
Tamhas removed his hand and walked away, and Konnor stood in a stupor and with a pain around his heart. He realized that Tamhas was right. He’d be gone sooner or later, and he’d hurt her when he left…and surprisingly, this time, he’d hurt himself, too.
And he may never recover.
Chapter 22
That night, after dinner, Konnor walked Marjorie to her bedchamber. She lingered before her door, wondering…hoping…searching for a kiss.
They’d had such a wonderful day yesterday. She hadn’t seen Colin so excited for a long time. Konnor had managed to cheer him up, and even today, Colin had kept playing soccer, the game from the future.
And today, after the midday meal, she’d trained with Konnor again for the rest of the afternoon. Konnor was… Oh Jesu, how he made her heart sing. How that scene made her wish the impossible—that Konnor would stay. That Konnor could belong to her time. That he could play soccer like that with Colin every day. Wouldn’t that be a wonder?
His eyes shone like an endless night sky in the flickering light of the torch. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed, his gaze on her lips. He made her arms feel soft and warm, and he made her knees weak just by looking at her.
“Good night, Marjorie,” he rasped.
“I dinna think I can sleep without a kiss goodnight,” she whispered, surprised by her own audacity.
Then without waiting for him, she stepped forward and kissed him.
She kissed him!
He pressed her tighter against him, like he was a drowning man, and she was his last hope. His lips urged her more than yesterday, his tongue a sweet, lashing desire. She lost all sense of time and space.
Only he existed—and the hot, hard flesh of his body under her palms. His lips. And his tongue. And that clean, masculine scent.
He stopped first this time, but he didn’t let her go. Instead, he pressed his forehead against hers and breathed.
“If I don’t stop now,” he rasped, “I’ll never want to stop, Marjorie.”
Then dinna, she wanted to say. But her shields went up again, cooling her senses. Oh, she wanted to smash them and let them burst into shards like a cup made of glass.
But those shields had protected her against any pain without fail for twelve years. And she couldn’t imagine living with her heart so exposed and vulnerable. Because no matter how much she wished for him to stay, he wouldn’t.
“Aye, ‘tis best,” she said and stepped back. He eyed her, his gaze intense and heavy. “Good night, Konnor.”
That night, there were no nightmares of danger chasing her and a dark, strong man entrapping her. No. She dreamed of hot, gentle lips, and big arms that protected her, and of a happy, married life that she’d never have.
The next day, Konnor looked much better. He still limped, but he said exercise was good for his leg. They trained until midday meal, after which he went to help hammer in the sharp spikes on the northern wall. Something about being in his proximity made the sun shine brighter, and the air fresher. It filled her belly with a strange feeling, like a flock of starlings launching into the sky.
Later that night, when they walked towards the tower together, dark thoughts came into her mind. When would the MacDougalls attack? Would Konnor survive? She’d need to keep an eye on him during the battle. If he did survive, if they won, how soon would he leave her?
Sooner or later, he would. Cold crept into her body and prickled through her limbs. What did she expect? He’d never promised to stay with her forever. He had a life back there, in the future. His mother needed him. And she had to stay here. She had her people to think of. But she’d be lonely. She’d think of him every day.
Warm summer rain drizzled over the castle, and the scent of wet, lush earth hung in the air. The courtyard was dark, save for a few torches on the walls. The distant hum of voices came from the great hall, where people were still having dinner.
“Why were ye never marrit?” she said.
Konnor stopped in his tracks and turned to her with a frown.
“Why do you want to know?”
“’Tis just…” She exhaled, blinking against the tears accumulating in her eyes. “I will never be marrit.”
His face darkened. “I wish you’d stop with that. You’re every man’s dream. Beautiful, strong, kind, and smart.”
He took her hand in his, burning her with the heat of his skin, and put her fingers against his lips. A sweet shiver went through her.
“But no one could want me after… Ye ken.”
“Any man with eyes and brains would want you. And those who don’t, don’t deserve you, do you hear me?”
She exhaled and nodded. His words were like a balm on her ragged soul.
Konnor sighed. “The truth is, I don’t know what it’s like to be a good husband or a good father. Romantic love is a lie. It’s an illusion that just leads to heartbreak. My mother loved my father, and he died. She loved Jerry, and he abused her. And after all the violence I’ve seen and the things I’ve done, I don’t think a man like me should get married or should become a father.”
Marjorie shook her head. “A man like ye? A brave, kind man of honor? A smart, educated man with military experience? Ye’d make a wonderful father and husband, even if ye didna have an example.”
A man who melted her heart like the sun melted wax…
Marjorie opened her mouth to tell him that it didn’t matter to her, not one bit, when feet pounded against the dirt of the courtyard.
“Mistress! Mistress!” Malcolm yelled.
She whirled around. “What is it?”
“The MacDougalls. They’re on their way. The signal came from the lads.”
Marjorie’s back broke out in a cold sweat. “Where?”
“South, mistress. By the turn to Kinnavar.”
Marjorie exhaled softly and nodded. “A hard ride away.”
So close… So close to Colin! To her… Her whole body began to shake. “Are the lads on the way back? We must start preparations for the siege. Call everyone—”
“Wait,” Konnor said. “They’re just preparing to sleep for the night and will probably attack tomorrow, right?”
“Aye.”
Konnor took both her shoulders in his hands and looked into her eyes. “So we should take them by surprise. Attack right now, in the dark.”
“I know what you’re thinking,” Konnor said. “I can see it in your eyes. You’re wrong. The walls will only slow them down. The element of surprise is what will win you this battle.” He looked up at Malcolm. “Do you know how many men they’ve brought?”
“Nae. The lads who were scouting will tell us.”
“But how many do you think?” Konnor said.
“A hundred at least. ‘Tis how many they need for a siege.”
“That’s double the men we have. Marjorie, you’ve been preparing them and training them, and you’re more than ready. We need to attack now. Surprise them.”
“But we’ve been preparing the castle all this time…”
“And the walls will keep you safe here. I’ll go with your warriors to surprise the enemy. I know you’re a fierce warrior, and I’m sure you can take down any MacDougall foolish enough to get close to you, but I will die before I let anyone harm you. I swear.”
Let them go without her? Surely she was stronger than that?
But the idea of facing the MacDougalls in the open covered her skin in goose bumps. She remembered rock-hard arms around her waist, beating her hands and legs helplessly, the hard bounce of the horse’s withers against her stomach. Marjorie’s whole body went cold. What if it happened again?
Worse—what if it happened to Colin?
Marjorie’s stomach tightened, and she shook her head. “But I canna leave my men… Ye can barely hold a sword!”
“Marjorie,” Konnor said. “I can do this. This is the best chance we got. Run through them like a knife through butter while they’re sure you’d never dare.”
He took her face in both of his hands.
“I’ll take a few of your men at attack the MacDougalls tonight, before they can reach the castle. That way their numbers will be depleted. Maybe we’ll even scare them off.”
She cried, tears dropped quicker and thicker than the rain.
