Page 37

E llie walked next to Colin, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. Her stride remained even, and she projected a calm countenance.

It made Colin very nervous.

They continued in silence for a few more minutes, until they’d walked a good distance away from the main keep and towards a break in the inner bailey wall.

“The lists,” Colin informed her, as they stepped through to the other side.

Blessedly empty, as training was finished for the day, though he suspected the night training Nioclas required his guards to do would begin soon.

He watched Ellie, trying to imagine what she was thinking.

He’d seen the lists countless times over the years; while they varied slightly from century to century, the basic function was still the same—war training and clan competitions.

She glanced at the large dirt field in front of her; surrounded on all four sides, extending upwards, were rustic bleachers.

Each side had a large box in the center containing additional benches; they looked like an early version of box seats.

Blue and silver flags hung limply from each of the four boxes, waiting for a breeze to make them dance.

A low barrier ran down the middle of the entire length of the field.

On the far ends, other breaks in the bleachers stood gaping, empty dark spaces filled with shadows.

“That’s where the jousters wait,” Colin remarked.

He pointed towards one end and moved his hand all the way toward the other end.

“When the horn blows, one jouster from each side charges toward the other on his horse. Then, their helmets are clapped over their heads, lances are dropped into place, and they try to unseat the other for a victory.”

“Sounds violent.”

“Sometimes is.”

She pointed to a contraption from which an empty rope hung. “What’s that?”

“Oh. That’s only for training. They hang a dead pig in the rope. Then one guy stands over there—” he pointed to the opposite side of the rope “—and swings it toward a man with a sword.”

“What’s the purpose?”

“To sharpen your reflexes, strengthen your swing, and understand what it feels like when your sword pierces flesh.”

Ellie’s eyes widened, and she stole a glance at the sword strapped to his back. “Have you, er, felt a sword pierce flesh?” She blanched a little when she said it.

He nodded solemnly, his heart racing. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because it was my life or theirs.”

She stopped cold and spun towards him. “Are you quite serious?”

“I am.”

She glanced around. “What is this place, Colin?”

He didn’t blink. “The MacWilliam keep, in the year 1481.”

“What kind of game are you playing? Who are you, really?”

He remained still. “The same man you met in Ireland. And the one you met in England, and the one you stayed with in Massachusetts.”

“So many sides,” she replied, her voice betraying her. She was angry. Or perhaps confused.

Maybe both.

“I’m all those things, Ellie. But first, and most importantly, I’m an O’Rourke Protector. A time traveler.”

“You understand how ludicrous you sound?”

He gave her a self-deprecating smile. “I do. Yet here we stand, in a medieval training field, a bit more than five hundred years in the past.” He motioned for her to follow him onto the benches, and, thankfully, she did.

He hadn’t had to explain himself to anyone, ever.

Once his training was complete, he’d been given orders—always through Reilly—and off he went.

On his solo missions, he made the decisions, sprang into action, and did what needed to be done.

On joint missions, he followed directions without question and trusted Reilly’s intuition and skill.

And never, in all the years he had been time traveling, had he ever explained anything other than a simple, “It’s done.”

Because it always had been done.

“I think it’s time you start explaining,” she said quietly.

He leaned forward, folded his hands, and rested them on his knees.

Instead of looking directly at her, he stared sightlessly at the lists as dusk began to fall around them.

“Reilly spoke the truth. You are in 1481. You and Gwen wandered off the path in Reilly’s woods, and something went wrong.

Reilly, James, and I saw the lightning, and we all had a feeling the two of you were sent somewhere. Luckily, you ended up here—as did we.”

“How did you know where we went?”

He froze. “Um…we were sent here for a different quest, if you will, to save Claire.”

“Claire doesn’t need any saving,” Ellie noted dryly.

He laughed softly at Ellie’s expression. “She thinks she doesn’t. But as wonderful as her family is, and this clan overall, there are many out here who aren’t. It’s a dark time, Ellie. I wouldn’t want any woman alone, without a guard. It’s…frightening, the things that are done to women here.”

She chewed the inside of her cheek, then began wringing her hands a little. “Say your story is true. Which is insane, but let’s pretend for a moment. Can I get back home?”

“Sir Colin!” a guardsman called out, then asked in Gaelic, “Do you train with us this evening?”

Colin shook his head at the man, then turned back to Ellie. “Night training is about to begin. Come on, let’s go somewhere else more private. While most of the clan knows me and the secrets of this family, we don’t discuss it in the open. Secrets like these can get a man killed.”

“Okay,” she whispered.

And when he held out his hand, she placed her cold one in his.

Ellie absently played with a loose string on her dress. The silver stitching on the deep blue cloth was nearly perfect, the beading was exquisite, and the bodice was elegantly fitted. Her sleeves hugged her upper arms, then opened in a graceful flow of fabric to her wrists.

She felt—and looked—like medieval royalty.

And, if she were to believe Colin’s little bombshell back there, she wasn’t so far off her mark.

If what he was saying was true, she and Gwen had somehow traveled back in time and ended up in the late 1400s.

Ridiculous.

As twilight turned to night, Ellie silently walked with Colin as they headed towards the battlements. Her glance slid from the embers burning low in the now-empty blacksmith’s hut to the torch-lit stables, where soft whinnies were audible over the low voices of the stable master and his charges.

Colin led her across the inner courtyard, to the outer bailey, and to the battlement stairs.

Hesitating, he turned to her with a questioning look, his face illuminated by the light of the torches in their sconces.

Shadows and light danced across the hard planes of his face, shrouding him in even more mystery.

“I’m not afraid of heights,” she confirmed quietly, before he could ask.

“Okay. This is where we’ll have the most privacy. Watch your step, and if you feel at all off-balance, hold onto me.”

“That’s a nice way of saying, ‘If you trip, grab onto me so you don’t fly over the wall.’”

His teeth flashed in the torchlight. “If that’s how you care to interpret it.”

She fell silent again. They slowly ascended the steep stairs, Colin calling out a greeting in Gaelic as he emerged onto the battlements.

The parapet was higher than Ellie expected; the low inner wall came up to her chest. The merlons stood even higher, their saw-tooth structure providing an extra layer of safety.

And , she reasoned, a rather clever way to stay behind cover while shooting arrows at the enemy .

How could she be more than five hundred years from when she stood a few days ago?

Colin spoke with one of the guards, who executed a swift bow before barking out an order. The men stationed around the tower, their shiny silver helmets barely visible in the dark, all but disappeared.

“Come,” Colin said, holding out his hand. He helped Ellie up the final two stairs.

A clear, inky black sky greeted her. Stars twinkled high above, unimpeded by smog or city lights.

The crescent moon hung, suspended, providing no light to the land below.

Ellie could make out the sounds of the sea—the distant crash of the waves and the intermittent cry of a gull carried on the wind—but it was too dark for her to see the water.

She stepped up to the parapet and placed her hands on it, the cold stone grounding her.

“El?”

Ellie closed her eyes against the deep, hesitant voice. Her heartbeat sped up, though she tried to control it. She wrapped her arms around herself and took a deep breath before releasing it slowly.

“Is this…real?”

“It is.” Colin’s voice was closer now, though she hadn’t heard his steps on the stones.

Ellie nodded and pressed her lips together without responding.

“I’m sorry you’re caught up in this. But I’m very glad you’re safe.”

Ellie turned her head slightly. Colin’s eyes were too dark to see properly, but his cheekbones were covered in a day’s worth of growth. His eyebrows were slashed together in worry—for her sanity? Her reaction to his words? She didn’t know.

But she wanted to. She wanted him to care about her—more than as a client, or as an obligation.

She wanted this complicated, amazing, beautiful man to trust her. Want her.

Love her.

An overwhelming sense of exhaustion flooded her, and she pushed that line of thinking to the back of her brain where it belonged. “Did you think I wouldn’t be safe? What did you think would happen?”

His eyes searched hers. “You could’ve been burned at the stake. Drowned for your strange clothing. Thrown in a dungeon.”

She made a silent o with her mouth .

“Dark times, Ellie.”

“How did I get sent here, though?”

He hesitated, the truth sticking in his throat. “I’m still trying to figure that one out. We’re not sure why the time shift caught you and Gwen.” He paused, and his voice lowered. “When we realized you were missing, I died a thousand deaths.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Ellie—”

She swallowed hard. “No, Colin. You said you didn’t want me. You didn’t want this.”