Page 36 of Love Beyond Time (Morna’s Legacy #1)
Arran squatted behind the first building on the edge of the village, peering around the corner as he watched the runaway wait for someone to join him outside the ale house. The lad reached into a small bag he carried around his shoulder and removed an item which he’d wrapped in a cloth.
Arran knew he’d been right to follow him. The lad had been given no chance to acquire anything for trade, unless he’d stolen it from Kip or some other area of the castle.
Only a few moments passed before a man Arran had never seen before walked out of the ale house and extended a hand in the runaway’s direction. He watched as they spoke quietly for a few moments, ending their conversation when the runaway patted the stranger and handed the unknown item over to him.
Arran couldn’t make sense of the strange transaction, but he knew he’d just witnessed the runaway betray them.
As he watched the runaway turn to head back toward the castle, Arran pulled his head back around the corner, out of sight from anyone walking by.
He waited until the lad moved past him, then quickly ran up behind him, ramming his fist over the back of the runaway’s head.
Arran caught the man around the middle, shrugging his unconscious body over his shoulder.
He’d take the betrayer to the dungeon, and he’d get the truth out of the lying bastard by whatever means necessary.
* * *
I moved about the spell room, putting away books and materials for what I hoped would be the last time. With my mind made up that I would be staying, and now knowing the location of the ring, I saw no reason to leave the room in such a state of dishevelment.
With each lift of a book, I was reminded of my activities the night before. I knew my back was covered in bruises from being pounded against the rocky surface of the cave, and every muscle in my body was sore from our nightly acrobatics. I’d never been so happy to be so uncomfortable.
As I continued to shuffle books around the room, I realized that the real reason I seemed so preoccupied with re-organizing the space is that I was doing my very best to put off the inevitable. I had to write to Mom and let her know I wasn’t coming home.
I was completely confident in my decision.
Regardless of the unusual circumstances that had brought me into this time, it had landed me exactly where I was supposed to be.
That being said, it didn’t make it any easier for me to go about saying goodbye to my mother for what was most assuredly forever.
The thought brought forth a familiar lump inside my throat. The same lump that had lodged itself into place when I’d attended my father’s funeral, the same lump that I’d been forced to choke down after laying eyes on Donal MacChristy.
I knew my mother wasn’t dying. She would undoubtedly go on to live a happy life, endlessly dating men either too young or too old for her, and traveling the world on whatever dig caught her fancy.
But she’d not only been my mother but my very best friend for my entire life.
And while I knew she would understand, I also knew it would hurt her to know that I’d chosen not to return to be her partner in crime.
Once I’d rearranged every book in the room at least twice, I knew it was time to sit down and just get it over with.
I tore a blank piece of parchment from one of Morna’s old journals and practiced what I would say to her.
Twenty-five drafts later, I knew that the truth was that it didn’t matter what I wrote. It was going to hurt her regardless. It was best that I keep it simple and only touch on the most important things: that I was safe, that I was happy, and that I hoped she would understand.
In the end, I wrote only four sentences, ensuring that I left room in case she wanted to write a reply.
“I don’t want you ever to doubt how much I love you, Mom, but I found it. That love you talked to me about at the inn? He’s here, and I have to stay with him. I’m safe and happy, and I know that’s all you’ve ever wanted for me.”
It was done. And while I knew I’d made the right decision, it had cost me the best mom in the world.
I was unsure of how long I sat there, staring blankly at the wall, feeling oddly cold and hollow. I’d been shattered when my father had been killed in a boating accident. Losing someone so suddenly wraps you in a sort of black shock that takes years to shake off.
Somehow, this seemed harder. It was just as sudden a break, and the knowledge that she was alive and well and would go on living and sharing her fun, witty, and wild self for the world to see, but not for me to get to witness, left me feeling utterly lost.
The hand that touched my shoulder was my anchor, and I gladly turned into his embrace.
He too understood the grief of loss, with his father’s death occurring shortly before my arrival.
He didn’t ask what I’d been doing. He looked around at the tidy room and at the words on the page and silently sat down beside me, wrapping me in his arms.
He held me without saying a word, silently stroking my back, bending occasionally to plant a gentle kiss on the top of my head, letting me know that he was there for as long as I needed him.
Eventually I pulled away and managed a smile to reassure him that I wasn’t re-thinking my decision. He smiled back and reached for my hand.
“I know it may no be customary. My parents kept separate bedchambers throughout their marriage, but how would ye feel about moving into my bedchamber? I doona like the thought of ye being so far away. I want to fall asleep each night with ye next to me, wrapped in my arms.”
I stood and pulled him toward the doorway. “I would love to. I’d already asked Mary this morning if she would have someone move my belongings across the hall. In my time, it would be uncustomary for us not to share a room. Besides, I don’t want to be alone tonight.”