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“Ye make it sound so fine, the life in the future.”
“It’s a damn convenient life, but we have problems, too.”
Marjorie fingered an indent in the table. She really wanted to see all that for herself. It was impossible, of course.
“Ye’ve given me much to dream about at night, Konnor,” she said.
He locked his eyes with hers, and her mouth went as dry as sand. “Trust me, you’ve given me plenty to dream about, too.”
She let out a small laugh. He was as relaxed as she’d ever seen him. And she hadn’t felt at ease like this in a very long time. It was as though they were on their own small island, and no one else existed.
“Tell me,” she said softly. “When ye said ye dinna want to inflict yer darkness on a woman, what did ye mean?”
His face fell, and the invisible cocoon around them threatened to break.
“I—”
But she couldn’t back down now. “Please, Konnor, I see this weight on yer shoulders. I’ve told ye the worst thing that has happened to me, the thing I’m ashamed of, the thing that broke me. Almost.” She shifted her hand closer to his but didn’t touch it. “I want to ken yer darkness, too.”
He frowned, anguish on his face. She found the courage, reached out, and covered his hand with hers.
“Will ye tell me?”
His mouth curved crookedly downward. He kept looking at her, obviously torn.
“I’d love to, Marjorie, but I can’t. You’ll never look at me with that wonder in your eyes again.”
She shook her head. “I dinna care. I want the truth. Ugly. Monstrous. Soul-shattering. Tell me the worst.”
He inhaled sharply and nodded. He took the jug with uisge and two cups and rose to his feet.
“Come, take a walk with me.”
Chapter 18
They climbed the stairs of the castle wall, Konnor trying not to watch Marjorie’s round behind swinging from side to side before him. Once on the wall, she asked the two sentinels to move to another side, telling them she and Konnor would take the watch.
The sun was setting behind the mountains on the other side of the loch. It decorated the still surface of water in a golden, pink, and purple glow, leaving the mountains as black forms. The air chilled Konnor’s skin, the wind bringing the aroma of lake water. He breathed in the scent of grass and trees and flowers. It would always remind him of Marjorie. The Highlander warrior queen from the past.
He stood at the parapet and leaned against the merlon, the stones cool under his palms. His ankle ached slightly now, but it felt much better. Still, he avoided putting weight on it. He’d need all the strength he had for the battle.
He looked at Marjorie, who stood by his side, her lush hair cascading down her shoulders and back, the slightest breeze playing with her locks. She turned and met his gaze, a small smile on her lips. The wind brought a single strand of hair across her face, and Konnor itched to reach out and move it away.
Instead, he poured the moonshine into their cups. For homemade liquor, this was excellent. But he missed the good Scotch he knew from the twenty-first century.
“Cheers.” Konnor clunked his cup with hers and the contents slipped down his throat, leaving a pleasant burning trace.
Was he really going to tell her? He had decided downstairs in the great hall that he would, but even though she’d said she wanted to know his darkest secret, he doubted she’d accept it.
When she found out that he carried the darkness she was so afraid of, he wouldn’t be able to stand the look of horror and disgust on her face.
Still, he wanted to tell her. The need itched and pained like a wound in his soul. She’d trusted him with her deepest trauma, and he wanted to do the same. He wanted to give her everything, to be everything for her. To take her pain away. To make her feel safe. To help her see how truly powerful and magnificent she was, this medieval Highlander woman with the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen.
“Tell me, Konnor,” she said.
He took in a lungful of sweet air. “When I was six years old, my dad died, leaving my mom and me alone.”
Deep sadness saturated Marjorie’s expression. “I am sorry. I ken what ‘tis like.”
