“Oh.”
What else could she say? Arranged marriages were the norm in Iain’s time, and she was sure they couldn’t back outof one once they were announced. It was probably for the best. She had to go home, and he had to get married . . . To someone else. She gnawed at her bottom lip.
“Well, I’m sure you will learn to love her once you get to know her.”
“I already know her. She is young and braw, aye, but has a mean streak I dinnae think I can live with.” He slapped his knees and stood up. “I willna marry Fiona.”
Elation coursed through Abigail but she immediately grimaced. What was she thinking? He needed to continue with his life the way he was doing before he met her.
She swallowed, hoping she wasn’t the cause for his change of heart. “Did you just come to that decision right now?”
“Nay, I’ve been thinking on it for some time. Fiona would be as miserable with me as I would be with her. It isna right to make people marry.”
“What about her father?”
Iain let out a sigh. “Laird MacKinnon might have a different point of view, but mayhap we can come to an arrangement.”
Abby frowned. Wars were fought for much less in these times. Clans were always squabbling with one another over land, animals, and whatever else they could come up with. She smiled again. “I hope things will work out for you.”
“Aye, now tell me yer secret.” He squatted in front of her, piercing her with his gaze. “Where are ye really from? And tell me about the strange fashion ye were wearing when ye rescued me.”
It was Abby’s turn to stand up. She moved closer to the dwindling fire and stared into the flames. How was she to tell him the truth? He wouldn’t believe her. It would be too much for him.
“You won’t believe me,” she said.
He stood up beside her. “I’ll know if yer not telling the truth.”
Wringing her hands, Abby swallowed, but her mouth had gone dry. Maybe she could come up with a better story. No, she had to tell him the truth. He already knew she was too different from her choice of words, and he’d seen her modern clothes, though, at the time, she’d hoped he was too sick to notice.
“I think you’d better sit down again before I tell you.”
He regarded her for a moment and, with a shrug, sat down on the rock. He regally waved his hand as if showing her a room at an open house. “Ye have my attention, lass.”
She gave him a wry look and sighed. “You’re not going to believe me, but what I’m going to tell you is the truth.”
Rubbing her sweaty palms on her skirt, she tried to find the right way of telling him something that was still bizarre to her, let alone what it would be to him. She widened her arms to show him her clothes. “You’ve noticed this isn’t my normal style of dress. The ones I was wearing when you woke up in that first cabin were my real clothes.”
He nodded. Something lit his gaze as his eyes roamed from her head to her feet and back again. Was it admiration?
“I know you didn’t approve of my attire, but where I come from, it is quite tame, really. Professional, even.”
“Where do ye come from?” He snorted. “Even I know women in the Americas dinnae dress like that. They are as modest, more so even, than the lasses here.”
“Look, just open your mind, will you?” She rubbed her face and, letting her arms drop, she decided to just come out with it. “I am not from here. I’m not supposed to be here. I’m supposed to be in another time.” She stopped and looked directly into his eyes. “I am from the future.”
“The future?” He doubled over laughing.
“Don’t laugh at me, buster. You wanted the truth and that’s what I’m telling you so you could at least listen.”
His brows shot up then drew together in a scowl, but humor still sparked in his dark eyes.
“Trust me. If I could, I’d go back right now, but I can’t.” She massaged her temples. “That Thomas jerk has my time device.”
He jumped up and clasped her forearm, his eyes widened in confusion. “Ye expect me to believe ye are no’ of this world?”
“I . . .” She stepped back. “You’re hurting me.”
He gawked at his hand and dropped her arm.
