Page 91 of Blood of the Thistle

“Your face did,” Anna accused.

Etta laughed and nudged her lightly with one shoulder. “I only wondered because I’ve seen the way Bram looks at ye.”

Anna’s smile faded slightly. “Bram looks at me like he’s mentally measuring me to know how big to dig the grave.”

Etta frowned at her, not comprehending. But she was hardly bothered by it, but sifted another handful of sand through her fingers, and said, “He does follow ye around with his eyes, and I’ve never kent him to take much interest in any lass. These last years, 'twas Scotland and the war that occupied him. Little else.”

Anna looked toward the water again, refusing to let the small flare of hope take hold. Etta hadn’t been there on the journey north. She hadn't seen how completely Bram had withdrawn from her after the kiss. She hadn’t heard the things he’d said to her.

“He brought me here,” she said instead. “He feels responsible for me. That's probably all you’re seeing.”

Etta considered that but seemed unconvinced. “Mayhap.”

“Definitely.”

“If ye say so.”

Anna scratched her name into the wet sand, doodled flowers—more like spiders—and wiped it all away. She traced a crescent moon and scattered stars, reflecting on how Etta’s friendship had made her fourteenth-century exile bearable—laughter and conversation that eased her homesickness more than Etta’s brother ever had.

Still, Anna had borne her impossible past alone: she’d fallen backward seven hundred years. Bram knew but never pressed—he didn’t truly believe her—and warned her to stay silent. Etta, however, was different. Anna watched her friend dig a tiny trench, chatting about the coming harvest festival. Hovering over another star, she weighed confessing her impossible truth, braced for Etta’s inevitable questions—Where did you come from? What’s your world like?—and dreaded losing her if Etta deemed her crazy.

Not yet, Anna decided. Maybe someday she’d tell it all—but not today.

So when Etta finally stopped talking and asked, “What are ye thinking about?” Anna gave her a small smile.

“Home.”

Etta’s expression softened, but blessedly she asked only one question.

“Do ye miss it terribly?”

Anna looked toward the sea. “Yeah,” she said after a moment. “I really do.”

***

Anastasia didn’t become aware of his approach until he was nearly upon her. The wind coming off the sea was brisk, driving the waves against the shore with enough force to drown out most lesser sounds, while the soft sand beneath his boots gave little warning of his approach.

She remained where she was, stretched out upon her stomach and idly tracing something in the sand with one finger. Bram had seen from above that Etta was no longer with her, though he knew the two had spent much of the day together. He’d spotted them earlier among the women working the fields and had watched for a time as Anastasia abandoned the weeding to occupy several restless bairns with some peculiar game that involved sitting them in a circle and tapping each upon the head. Whatever the purpose, the children had enjoyed it immensely.

Anastasia had as well. Though he’d been too far away to hear her laughter, he’d seen it plainly enough in the animation of her face, in the way she’d thrown back her head at one point. He’d stared unabashedly for quite some time.

Now, however, she seemed much quieter.

Bram slowed as he approached, noticing the aimless movement of her finger through the sand and the pensive set of her face as she stared beyond it toward the water.

“Etta abandoned ye, then?”

Anastasia startled and twisted around. “Oh. I didn’t hear you.” She pushed herself up onto one elbow and glanced toward the path. “Your mother sent someone looking for her about ten minutes ago. Apparently she was supposed to help with something and forgot.”

“That sounds like Etta.”

Anna pushed herself further upright and sat with her legs folded to one side, brushing sand from her forearms. “She didn’t actually forget. She said she was hoping your mother had.”

Bram smiled. “That sounds even more like Etta.”

Anastasia smiled too, though hers was brief. She looked back toward the water, and Bram was left standing several feet away with the vexing realization that he’d come down here with no other purpose than to see her. But now he thought he should have prepared some conversation before approaching.

“Ye are guid with the bairns,” he said at length.