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“We were close,” she said. “My mom was my idol, my hero, my best friend. Though my dad was an amazing man, too. A bit of a mad scientist type.” She chuckled. Though she was sure Angus didn’t know what that meant, she offered no explanation as she wanted to keep telling the story.
She turned to him, putting her knee on the bed. “David and I were staying with my mom’s sister, Aunt Lucy, and my uncle Bob. They had only three kids back then, and we felt very welcome for a couple of days. Then, on the way from Scotland to Atlanta…” Her memory pressed on her skull from all sides like a helmet made of cast iron. “Their plane had an accident and…it crashed.”
She stopped talking and had to breathe for a moment as the grief, the loss tightened around her chest in a painful vise.
“I dinna ken what any of that means,” he said softly. “Except crash.”
“Planes are like huge carriages that can carry hundreds of people and fly from continent to continent. I know this all sounds completely insane to you, but basically all that means is people found a way, in the future, to fly. It requires a lot of resources, like iron and fuel—oil that burns and creates energy for the thing to fly.”
His eyes widened. “I am sorry, Lady Rogene, but going into a thing made of iron that burns oil and can supposedly fly sounds like a death wish.”
Despite herself, she grinned, and her pain lifted and lightened.
“Yeah, it is pretty crazy to think that those things can be safe, but generally, they are…”
She trailed off as a heavy silence hung between them. Generally, they were.
Only not always.
“Engine malfunction…” she said hoarsely, fighting another wall of despair. She pressed out a smile through tears. “Accidents happen. Horses stumble and fall, too, don’t they?”
She knew she was beginning to ramble, to rationalize and evade her grief, which she often did in her own head.
“They do,” Angus said.
Without breaking eye contact, he walked to her. The mattress sank as he sat on the side of the bed. As though someone had turned on a radiator, she began warming up. And it made the next words that she wanted to say easier.
“We got the news in the evening,” she said. “David was already sleeping. I remember it vividly. That ancient clock above Aunt Lucy’s fireplace showed nine thirty-seven when the phone rang. My cousins and I were watching a late-night program while Aunt Lucy was cleaning the kitchen.”
He frowned, and Rogene shook her head, berating herself for not explaining what any of that meant. “Sorry. Imagine a large black object with a moving picture on it.”
Angus blinked and winced. “All this sounds like a faerie land to me.”
She grinned. Strangely, even the worst memory of her life began brightening and gaining colors as she was imagining what it sounded like from a medieval Highlander’s perspective.
“A faerie land…” she said. “All those things sound like magic, don’t they? But, funny enough, it’s science that makes them possible. Not magic.”
“Science…” His eyes were sharp and curious on her. “What is that?”
“Well…it’s about how the world works. What air consists of, how fire burns, how to measure if it’s warm or cold. In the future, there are fridges, machines that keep food cool so that it doesn’t spoil.”
He nodded. “Like root cellars.”
“Yeah.” She smiled. “Like root cellars.”
He blinked. “I’ve always wondered how the world works. I ken ’tis the creation of God, but all those things… I’ve always suspected there must be a more logical, rational explanation. I’d like to ken how it all is explained.”
Rogene smiled at him. She knew he was a smart man, naturally smart. He lacked education, couldn’t read and write, but her brother struggled with reading and writing, and he was one of the smartest people she knew.
“I’d like to tell you everything I know,” she whispered and covered his large, warm hand, lying on the bed, with hers.
As always, there was that jolt of electrical energy between them, only this one was softer, smoother.
“Thank ye,” he said. “I’ve always wanted to be able to read and write.”
“I’d love to teach you.”
His eyes were black and shiny and intense under his long eyelashes and thick eyebrows. The side of his face where Euphemia had lashed the whip was swollen and bruised, and he had the start of a black eye, but it didn’t make him look ugly—not at all. On the contrary, he looked even more masculine and sexy…a bit of a rogue. She wondered, if he had been born in her time would he have become a powerful businessman, or a great leader, maybe—reforming the political and legal system to protect the weak?
