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“Owen?” she said.
“Hmm?” He took a poker and stirred the wood. Sparkles flew from the embers. The fire kindled and began burning brightly.
Be brave. Be strong.
“Please, look at me,” Amber said.
Owen sighed and stood to face her, but he didn’t come closer.
Could she say it? Just blurt it out.
Her heart beat against her ribs like a fist, and she rubbed her sweaty and shaky palms against her dress. She was drenched in sweat.
“I…” She took a step towards him and locked eyes with him. His were so indifferent, as if he were looking at a tree instead of her.
“I’m thinking I’d like to build clocks. I repaired one with my mom when I was a teenager, and I enjoy engineering. And it drives me nuts that I don’t know what time it is. So as soon as I know you’re safe after the battle, I’ll leave. Get hired somewhere as apprentice. Go from there.”
He nodded, his face still a stone mask. Only the shadows of sadness appeared in his eyes. “Good. ’Tis a useful craft, Amber. I understand for a woman from the future it might seem normal, but I dinna ken if a man will agree to hire a woman as an apprentice. Besides, ye’ll need to go to a big city for that, or a monastery. Clocks are a rare treasure.”
It would be a profession, something to do in the Middle Ages, and yet she was still running away from the shadows in her past. She’d confronted the Bruce yesterday, and she starting to go through different options of how she could potentially confront the monster in the twenty-first century.
“When is the battle?” she said.
“We leave tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow.” Her throat clenched. Lightning flashed again, wind rattled the shutters, and thunder exploded somewhere above their heads.
He might die tomorrow…
She took another step towards him and noticed with a painful realization that he tensed. He might have stepped back, too, if the fireplace wasn’t right behind him.
“Owen, I—”
Looking into the abyss, wind flapping her skirt, death everywhere in the waters rocking against black cliffs sharp as razors, there was only one place in that sea where she could land and be safe.
Her stomach flipped, her breath caught and disappeared, and she jumped.
“I love you,” she said.
His eyes widened, and his face distorted in a grimace of longing combined with physical pain, as though she’d just stabbed him in the gut.
“You—” he said.
“I love you. I’ve fallen in love with you.”
He inhaled sharply, shakily, closed his eyes for a long moment, then swallowed, his Adam’s apple working.
“Jesu, Mary, and Joseph…” he muttered and looked at her. “Amber, I dinna ken what to say.”
“You go to battle tomorrow, and I just couldn’t let you go without you knowing. I suppose, I want to know how you feel about me.”
Oh God, this confession was like pulling teeth out of a healthy mouth. Was a love confession supposed to feel this way? Wasn’t it supposed to be all passion, tears of happiness, and hot kisses that promised a lifetime together?
He kept silent, only breathed heavily and eyed her as though he were a lion and she an antelope.
“Because if you feel the same about me, I won’t leave. I’d like to stay.” She paused. Was he really not going to say anything? His chest rose and fell quickly, his mouth pressed tightly in a thin line, and the sinews on his neck bulged. He looked as if he were having a stroke.
“Stay with you, that is. If you want me to.” She inhaled and exhaled audibly. “Say something. I’m dying here.”
