“Aye, well, ye should be more careful next time.”
“There’s not going to be a next time. I’m going home tomorrow.”
“Back tae England?”
“Yes, why? Why say it like that?”
“Because it takes a brave soul tae travel so far north o’ the border when we’re on the verge of going tae war.”
“War? Who with?”
“The English of course.” He leaned toward the fire, rotating the fish on its makeshift spit.
“Listen, there might be some grumbles between England and Scotland over soccer from time to time but this is first I’ve heard of war.”
He lifted the fish from the fire. “Ah might be wrong. It’s been a long time since I heard news of anything. Ready to sup?”
He sliced the fish into thick chunks, passing the first handful to her.
She looked at it for a moment before starting to eat. “You know,” she said after swallowing, “you’ve got this hunter-gatherer thing down pat, haven’t you? What was it, corporate life got too much for you, wanted to get back to basics?”
“Will ye just eat?”
His stomach was glad of the fish. As he ate, he glanced at her again. She was looking into the fire, but she turned to match his gaze. He held her eyes for a second before looking away.
The rest of the meal was eaten in silence. When he was done, he wiped the grease from his hands onto his hose.
“You really are an animal, aren’t you?” she said, rising to her feet and walking outside.
“Where are ye going?”
He got his answer when he saw her neatly wiping her own hands on the grass outside. She returned to the doorway.
“That was lovely, thank you. I’ve never eaten a meal quite like it. If you’re passing by the guesthouse, you should call in, have something cooked in an oven for once. You might like it.”
“Ye cannae go.” He was up in under a second, striding outside and getting a hand to her shoulder, spinning her around to look at him.
She looked down at his hand, then up at him as it lingered there. “Why can’t I go?”
He realized, letting go a second later. “You’re English and you’re on Sinclair land. The first patrol tae see you will have you skewered like that fish.”
“Not this again. Look, I need to get back. It’s been lovely…sorry, what was your name?”
“Tavish.”
“Tavish what?”
“It was Sinclair before they booted me out on me arse. Now it’s just Tavish.”
She frowned before smiling. He was surprised by how pretty she looked when she smiled, her eyes lighting up. “Very funny. What’s your real name?”
“Tavish Sinclair.”
“You’re Tavish Sinclair? As in, the Tavish Sinclair. And I suppose this is what, 1290? 1300?”
“It were 1290 when ah were banished. I suppose it must be around 1300 now, give or take.”
The smile faded from her lips. “You’re telling me this is the year 1300?”
