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At some point, she didn’t know where his music began and her voice ended. When she sang the last word, she didn’t want to stop, so she started “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” over again. Children watched her with bright eyes and open mouths, women smiled dreamily, men wore thoughtful expressions.
And then, once they started the song for the third time, Raghnall joined in the verse. He sang the first chorus with her, and then only hummed, but his voice was lower and hers higher, and the two of them intertwined beautifully.
If voices could make love, this would be it. They were perfect. His, velvety, seductive, the baritone of a troubadour, and hers, a perfect mezzo-soprano, as she’d been told by her own music teachers. They complemented each other, teased each other, and created something unique, something beautiful.
Something she never wanted to end.
When they finished “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star,” their audience demanded more songs. For the first time since they’d left Tigh na Abhainn, Bryanna saw smiles on the faces of the children. And so she sang “Itsy Bitsy Spider,” and “Ring Around the Rosie,” and “Are You Sleeping, Brother John?” Finally, when the children were tired and, one by one, left Bryanna and Raghnall’s campfire, they stopped singing. Only, Bryanna didn’t want the night to end.
Raghnall put his lute away. “Lass, ye have a bonnie voice, like a nightingale. I could listen to ye all night.”
She chuckled. “Thank you. I love your voice, actually.”
The word love hung between them, heavy and loaded.
“Ye ken, I can barely get my mind around the fact that ye’re from another time. I dinna think I’ll ever recover when ye’re gone.”
She wished she could say, Then don’t lose me… Let me stay… Let me be with you…
But there was no way a diabetic could live in the Middle Ages. There was truly no future for them. Staying here with him meant death.
She took his hand in hers and put on a brave smile. “Whatever happens, I will never forget you, either, Raghnall Mackenzie. I think it’s safe to say you’ll always have a piece of my heart.”
Not just a piece. He’d own her heart.
And once she returned to her own time, she’d once again live a half-life.
A life without him.
Chapter 17
They arrived at Dornie early in the morning. Raghnall’s heart eased at the relief and hope on his people’s faces as they gazed upon the impenetrable walls of Eilean Donan.
On the way, Bryanna had asked him once if he thought the rubble covering the time-traveling stone had been cleared, and he’d said he hoped so.
But truth was, he didn’t.
She’d be gone eventually, but having her near was like a sweet nectar that made his days brighter. Like she was giving him hope without even saying a word.
Last night, after they’d sung her songs around the campfire, they’d settled down for the night, wrapped into his traveling cloak, her back pressed against his torso. He’d asked her about the future and she’d told him miraculous things. She’d told him about flying carriages in the sky, about medicine that cured deadly illnesses, about how women were equal to men.
And he liked that. It was reassuring to hear that humanity would move towards a safer, better, healthier future with more freedom and opportunities. It was good that bairns didn’t die as often, that women could learn writing and reading and could be as skillful as men in all sorts of crafts. He liked the idea of machines doing regular chores—weaving, washing, even cooking.
He watched her with different eyes. From a potential threat, she became someone wondrous. A miracle that had happened to him.
When they stopped at the Dornie quay to board the barge, his people started unloading their carts. As he carried sacks, he wondered if these were his last moments with her. What if the rubble was cleared, and she’d be gone very soon—today—what then?
Melancholy spread through his soul like a black cloud, and he felt like a wolf who wanted to howl at the moon. He’d never see her again, and that prospect tore his heart apart. He wanted more with her—more time, more talk, more…love.
Aye, if she did leave now and never appeared again, he would regret not making love to her. He knew it would be the last piece of happiness before the rest of his life.
But war was coming. Death was real, and it might take his own life, not to mention hers. Especially since she had that sugar sickness that was so dangerous without her…needle medicine.
While the barge moved towards the castle, rocking on the small waves, Raghnall watched the wind playing with Bryanna’s honey-colored hair. “Would ye come to the great hall with me first, before ye go?”
She smiled that smile of hers that wrinkled the skin around her eyes. “Yes, of course, to tell them we consummated the marriage, right?”
Ah, that. He’d forgotten that he needed her to secure Tigh na Abhainn.
