“This is called an SA80 assault rifle. It’s not magic. It’s an advanced weapon of war. I don’t know the entire history of guns, but I do know they evolved from the cannon, which will be invented in Italy about twenty years from now.”
He didn’t know what to think. Guns? Cannons? He had no reference for them.
“Then we come to this.” Lady Octavia held up a small rectangle that had writing and a painting of herself on it. “This was my identification card in the prison camps. It has my name, Octavia Benatti, and my prisoner number, 755817, on it.”
He took the proffered object from her hand and looked at it. His breathing stilled for a long moment. ‘Twas not a painting, this. ‘Twas as if he was looking at the lady herself on the small canvas. Well, ‘twas her from the shoulders up leastways.
“This is how I learned your language,” Lady Octavia said, holding up a gold band. “I pressed it to my forehead while you were talking and it caused me to faint. I’d like to prove my words by having you place this on your forehead while I speak my native language so you can learn it just as I learned yours.”
A chill worked down the laird’s spine. He knew afore he took the thing from her hand that she was telling naught but the truth—knew too how much she was risking by telling him it. Another mon might have killed her where she stood for witchcraft, but Lady Octavia was no witch.
“I will sit at the table,” he said, walking to it. “Unlike you and James, I’ve no desire to nigh unto fall into the fire as I mayhap faint.”
His words earned him a small smile. “To be fair, we’d never used it before. We had no idea what to expect.”
Angus nodded. “Well I do ken what will happen afore it happens.” He held the gold band to his head. “Teach me your foreign tongue.”
Lady Octavia’s gaze searched his. “You believe me, don’t you?”
“Aye. I do.”
“Before I proved it, you believed…” Her voice, filled with amazement, trailed off.
“Aye. But now prove it.” He frowned. “I dinna like when you and James talk in words I canna ken.”
She smiled fully. Then she began to speak in that foreign tongue.
“This is called English. American English to be exact…”
The pain of pains lanced through the laird’s head as the most bizarre of experiences took hold of him. He dropped the gold band and held both sides of his head, trying not to faint but uncertain he could summon the strength. He could feel Lady Octavia’s eyes upon him as her foreign tongue became as familiar to him as his own. He knew what an SA80 was, how it worked, what it did. He knew many things—things he didn’t have references for to make sense of. Cars—what were those? Airplanes? Xenocanns—
Xenocanns.
Aliens. Invaders. Feeders of human flesh. They imprisoned some humans as slaves, Octavia amongst them.
“One of them came through the same portal that the doctor, James, and I did,” she said in her tongue. Or was it his tongue? He didn’t know at the moment, knew only that he understood what a portal was. It allowed beings to pass from one place to another—one planet to another or one time destination to another. What was a planet? “They have no known weaknesses except their hearts. You will only get one attempt so your aim must be true. If you miss, you die.”
Angus blinked, certain he would give into the dizziness and faint as the other two had. Yet he didn’t. ‘Twas close for a certainty, yet he didn’t.
“I stole these med kits and a bio weapon from dead aliens.” Lady Octavia showed him three items. “You don’t know what they’re called because I don’t either. Your knowledge of my language is based on my knowledge, just as my knowledge of your language is based on your knowledge.” She switched back to his beloved Gaelic—a language he now understood was considered Old Gaelic. “I know this is a lot to take in, but I couldn’t stand lying to you for another moment. I am not Lady Octavia. I’m just Octavia.”
His breathing was heavy. “You’re wrong aboot that.”
“About what?”
Perspiration dotted his entire frame. He motioned for her to come to him at the table. When she did, he reached out and grabbed her by the shoulders. She gasped.
“You will always be Lady Octavia for I shall take you to wife and none will be wiser.”
Her gaze softened, but she glanced away. “I won’t do that to you. I can’t.”
“You can and you will.”
Whatever she had been about to say was stopped by his kiss. He ravished her mouth with a hard, hot kiss that caused her to straddle his lap and kiss him back with equal passion. She moaned into his mouth, making his erection press against her. She kept kissing him as she reached down between them, took his shaft in her hands, and stroked his cock long and hard. He held onto her backside, his hands making their way up the cloak, settling on her arse cheeks and grabbing them. She tried to put his shaft inside her, but he wouldn’t let her. She groaned with need. He shuddered as he exploded, cum spewing out of his cock and into her hands on a moan.
Their breathing was equally heavy—his from orgasm, hers from arousal. Angus pulled off her cloak and she continued to straddle him naked.
“Please,” she begged. “Let me get you hard again. I need you inside me.”
