7
Heather listened as Gavin talked, wondering how she could ever have hated him. She supposed it was because he had become a real person. It was much harder to hate a man who explained in detail how he’d spent six months incarcerated at Frazer Castle. Her ancestor’s castle.
According to Tony Carson, the sole reason she was here was because she was connected to Mungo Frazer. Mungo’s DNA ran through her, passed down through the generations. Yet she felt no solidarity with a man who could imprison people for months for no reason other than money.
“I’ve told you my story,” Gavin finished. “Now you should tell me yours.”
“I do not have much story to tell.”
“You have the manners of a noblewoman and yet dress like a jongleur. You cannot ride. You are happy to be here alone with another noble, unchaperoned.”
“You consider yourself noble?”
He smiled. “My people do.”
“What do you think?”
“I think you’re avoiding my question.”
“What question?”
“Who are you?”
She shrugged, hoping he would give up pushing. “I’m tired. That’s all.”
“Of course,” he said, getting to his feet. “It’s getting late. I will leave you to rest.”
“Why, where are you going?”
“Outside.” He said it as if it was obvious.
“You can’t sleep outside. It’s freezing.”
“I will light a fire for you first.”
“I meant it’ll be freezing for you outside.”
“You cannae sleep with a man beside you. It is not proper.”
“I won’t sleep at all in here on my own.”
“Whyever not?”
She thought about telling him the truth, about not wanting to be apart from him, about feeling a strange bond with him despite hardly knowing him. Then she said, “I’d be too scared someone might sneak in.”
“Och, you will be fine.”
“Please.”
Something in her voice must have gotten through to him as he nodded. “Very well. I will go gather some wood.”
She watched him go. Once he was gone, her shoulders sagged and she put her head in her hands. Should she be doing this? Could she steal his knife and return to the present day with it?
It would have been so much easier if he’d been aggressive or violent, slapped his men around or yelled at people, maybe kicked a kitten or two just to prove she was doing the right thing. But no, he had to be all handsome and noble and dashing and wonderful and all of a sudden her task seemed an awful lot harder.
She tried to wrap her head around what had happened since she’d come back in time. First, she’d lost the key. Unless she found that again, there was no chance of getting back to her own time, with or without the knife.
She made a mental note to go look for it first thing in the morning. If she was lucky it would be right outside the broch.
