She didn’t answer. What might she say? He already thought her a witch or one of the Fae.
“Are ye with child?”
“Definitely not.” For one who remained silent most of yesterday, he certainly didn’t possess the ability to be quiet now. Glad for his healing, she wished he would close his mouth. At least for a little while. She needed quiet to think and sort through this mess.
“Well, that’s fine then,” he said, apparently determined to keep the conversation going. “I just wondered, ye understand. My wife had such spells when she found herself in such a state.”
It struck her as odd that he spoke about his departed wife with so little emotion. A defense mechanism, perhaps? She didn’t comment.
“She died bringing the child into the world.” His eyes narrowed the slightest bit as he stared off into the distance. “Good enough, woman, I suppose. Kind enough most of the time. I hope she rests in peace, along with the bairn.”
Even with her head swimming, it still struck her odd that he spoke about his family as though idly passing the time of day. “Were the two of you married long?”
He shook his head. “Nay. Less than a year.”
“I’m sorry.” Even though she wished to, she didn’t ask why he didn’t sound sad about the loss of his wife or child. People mourned in different ways, and from what she remembered from her history classes, the thirteenth century provided plenty of opportunities. She’d best just concentrate on what she might do to reverse her own issues and get back to where she belonged. Then it came to her that everything went to pot after she came out from behind that waterfall.
Pushing aside the blanket and sitting straighter, she gave Quinn a reassuring smile she didn’t feel. “I’m much better now. And here in the shade, you seem better, too. Are you?” She had to play this just right to avoid arousing any suspicions.
“Aye.” His smile was genuine and pain-free. “The sunlight’s a bugger. The shade helps.”
“Do you think you might make it back to where we were without too much suffering? I’m afraid I pushed you too hard too soon. We should’ve camped there longer to give you more time to heal.” She had to convince him to get back to that waterfall.
He propped his forearms on his bent knees. “Why not stay here? Plenty of water. Shade. Shelter beside this old tree.”
Fair enough question. How might she counter such logic? On to Plan B. “We can stay here if you like.”
With any luck, he’d nap, and she’d nick back to the waterfall, shoot in behind it, and hopefully, come out where she belonged. Quinn would be fine without her. In a few days, he’d be right as rain. She’d used absorbable stitches, so even those wouldn’t be a problem for him.
Apprehension like she’d never felt before pushed her to her feet. “I’m much steadier now. Why don’t you stretch out on the sleeping bag here in the shade, while I gather some wood for later? For the fire and all. I missed my afternoon tea yesterday. I’ll not tolerate missing it today.” She hated her mindless babbling, but it didn’t matter. As long as it kept him distracted. Before he answered, she unbuckled the bag and spread it out. Happy to sacrifice both the sleeping bag and her backpack if it meant getting back to the twenty-first century.
“I’m nay tired. It’s just the aching in my head with the bright sun and all.” Suspicion put an edge in his voice. “What is it, Evie? Ye’re nay yerself of a sudden.”
“What do you mean I’m nay—not myself?” She snorted out a laugh that sounded fake even to her. “We just met yesterday. You hardly know me.”
“I know enough,” he said with conviction. “And ye’re nay yerself.”
Time to adapt and shift to Plan C. “I’m certain I forgot something back at the waterfall and can’t rest easy until I go check.”
“What did ye forget?” He wasn’t biting off on Plan C. She saw it in his eyes.
“I don’t know for certain. All I know is I need to look.” She shrugged and gave a nonchalant flip of a hand. “Surely, you’ve felt that way before? No? Then it must be a silly woman thing, I suppose. I’ll just nick over there. Take a quick look ’round, then be back here before you know it.”
He rose to his feet and squared his shoulders. The tilt to his head and arched brow shouted that he knew her for the liar she was. “I’ll be going with ye.”
“But the sunshine—”
“Sunshine be damned. I’ll be going with ye, woman. I dinna ken what ye’re up to, but I know ’tis something. Do ye deny it?”
As long as she got back to those falls, she didn’t care if he came with her or not. “I just need to get back there. Come with me if you like or stay here. It makes no difference to me.” She slung her pack onto her shoulders. The sleeping bag and blanket could stay here in the past, as a souvenir of her visit.
He scooped them up and slung them across one arm. “Allow me to carry these for ye, m’lady. So, ye dinna get over there and feel like ye’ve forgotten something. Again.”
So, the nosy chieftain excelled in sarcasm? Well met. “Why, thank you, good sir. Here’s to recovering what I lost.” She prayed her century would be as easy to fall into as his had been.
Chapter Four
The sun didn’tpain him as much this time. Perhaps because it glared on his back instead of his face. Or more likely, because he was so distracted, trying to sort out the truth of Evie’s odd behavior. While he hadn’t known the lass for long, he had a lifetime of experience with liars. Her tale about leaving something behind was just that. A lie. A weak one, but still a lie.
