“Hi.”
Her mind otherwise occupied with practicingadvanced Kalari techniques, Veronica paid the accented voice littleattention. “Hi,” she said back without looking at the screen.
“I am Lachlan,” he continued in English.
Lachlan. She knew that name. Butwhy?
“Laird Lachlan Gunn,” the voiceclarified.
Veronica stilled. She released herself fromthe warrior pose she’d been holding and slowly turned to face thescreen. It was him. The giant. Her breathing hitched at the sightof him, though she wasn’t certain why. Her amber curls were in aponytail, yet felt too heavy for her head. She absently threw theponytail behind her back as she took in the sight of thewarlord.
Her first impression of him had been spoton. He was breathtaking in his own ruggedly masculine way. Tall,broad, heavily muscled, dark hair and eyes. Eyes that seemed to besoaking in her image even more intently than she was taking in hispresence. She’d heard him speak before, but never to her and neverin English. His voice was deep in timbre and just as primally maleas the rest of him. She swallowed a bit roughly. Men just weren’tmade like that in 2075 A.D. Steroids had been banned long ago andshe hadn’t realized it was possible for a man to get that bigwithout them. She cleared her throat.
“Hello,” she quietly offered in unsteady,ancient Gaelic. “My name is Veronica.”
He didn’t smile, but his gaze softened ather first true attempt to speak his tongue. “’Tis a pleasure, LadyVeronica,” he answered her back in Gaelic. “You are learning mylanguage I see.”
Lady? She’d think on that later. “I’mtrying.”
“’Tis a boon, that.”
Her forehead furrowed.
“A help,” he slowly explained in Gaelic, “ora gift.”
She slowly nodded her understanding. Herheart was fluttering and she didn’t know why. Her reaction totalking to him made no sense.
They stood there, him on one side of timeand space and her on the other, looking each other over. It wasunnerving and exciting all at once. Truthfully, it was the firsttime since the pandemic that she’d been able to lower her guard, ifeven just a bit, around another human. She was at sea, no eaterswere around, and this was only virtual. She didn’t have to worrythat he was there to rob her, rape her, or cannibalize her. Shewas, for the first time in years, just an ordinary woman facing anordinary man. Not that anything about the laird could be thought ofas commonplace. Realizing she was staring, she glanced away andshook her head a bit to clear it.
“I prefer when you look upon me.”
Her head snapped up. She was better atunderstanding Gaelic than previously thought. “I’m sorry,” shewhispered, assuming he just preferred eye contact. Usually she didas well. Still, she didn’t know what else to say. “How areyou?”
“Well. I am well. How goes your journey toScotland?”
“I have no complaints. The sea has been…”She searched her brain for the right Gaelic word. “…Calm,” shedecided on.
“’Tis a boon, that.”
“True. The calmer the water, the faster Iget to the Highlands.”
The relief that flooded through her made herfeel like crying—something she wasn’t prone towards doing. It tooksuch a weight off her shoulders to have a normal conversationwithout any of the worries the DR-71 virus had introduced intodaily survival. In her world, any interactions with uninfectedhumans was akin to putting her existence on the line. Maybe life inthe Middle Ages wouldn’t be so bad after all. At least she’d growaccustomed to not sleeping with one eye open again. She hoped.
“What ails you?”
The question threw her off guard. She hadn’tshed a single tear, yet somehow the giant barbarian knew she wasexperiencing inner turmoil. “I—” She chose her words carefully.“—It’s just nice to have a normal conversation with you.”
He nodded. “I enjoy speaking with you aswell.”
She found herself blushing—another thingVeronica never did. Good grief, what was wrong with her? She wasbehaving like an adolescent girl around a male teacher she’d beencrushing on rather than the jaded twenty-nine-year-old that shewas. “Where’s my brother?” she asked, wanting to change theconversation to a safe topic. And one that made sense to her. “IsVictor around you?”
“Nay. He is in his bedchamber.”
It took her a protracted moment tounderstand his words, but eventually they sunk in. “He has his ownroom in your house—I mean castle?”
“Aye. He does.”
She semi-smiled. At least she now knew shehad a room to sleep in when she got there. Assuming this timetravel thing worked twice, she could share a room with her brother.“Good.” She inclined her head. “Then I will have a place to sleepin your, uh…” Again, she searched for the right word. “…Keep?”
