“Thank ye, Konnor,” she whispered, tears glistening in her eyes. “I thought I’d woken up to a nightmare. If it wasna for ye…”
The sound of footsteps thundered up the stairs and across the landing, and Malcolm and five more men barged in, swords at the ready.
“Mistress, Colin, are ye all right?” Malcolm shouted, looking around the room.
“Aye,” Marjorie said.
“Who are they?” Malcolm said.
“I woke up to shouts and banging from Colin’s room. They came for him, and Konnor saved him.”
Malcolm took three giant steps towards the third man and sank to his knees. He took out a dagger and pressed it against the guy’s ear.
“Who are ye?” he said.
“I think ye well ken who we are,” the man answered and spat at Malcolm’s shoe.
“MacDougalls, of course,” Marjorie said, her voice shaking. “Who else?”
Malcolm stood and kicked the man in the stomach.
“Came to take our mistress’s son? Well, that isna bloody happening, is it?” he growled. “Take them away.” He turned to Marjorie. “Dinna fash yerself, lass, I will question them. We need to ken how they got in. We will look around the castle for more men.”
Marjorie looked at Colin. “Go to bed, sweet. I’ll stay until we ken there isna anyone else here.”
“I can stay with you,” Konnor said. “Just until we know it’s safe.”
Marjorie glanced at him, looking lost and shaken, and nodded. Colin got in his bed, and she covered him with a blanket. As Cambel men carried and dragged the MacDougalls out, Marjorie sat by Colin’s side on the bed and kept stroking him. Konnor stood by the door and watched her and her son, something turning in his chest over and over. Something he didn’t want to think about.
After a while, the boy closed his eyes and fell asleep.
Malcolm stuck his head into the room. “’Tis all clear, mistress. There’s no one else here. Go to sleep.”
She stood up and kissed Colin on the head.
“Will you put a man to guard him, Malcolm? I’ll sleep better.”
“Aye. Of course, mistress. I’ll guard him myself.”
“Thank ye.”
Marjorie and Konnor went down the stairs to the landing. She stopped before her door, hugged herself, and began to shake.
“Are you all right?” he said.
She didn’t reply, standing like a tree shaking in a strong wind. “I thought I’d woken up twelve years ago and was about to relieve the worst days of my life.”
Chapter 11
As she spoke, darkness crept towards Marjorie from the corners of the landing and from the corners of her mind. Cold seeped through the nightgown, and she walked into her room and climbed on her bed. She covered herself with a blanket and shivered. Even twelve years later, she still felt the pressure of fingers digging into her wrists, the weight of one of the men on her legs, the filthy palm on her mouth.
The possibility of her son going through the same thing made sickness rise in her and her head spin.
Konnor walked in the room after her and closed the door.
“What happened?” he asked, pulling her out of the black hole of memories.
No, she couldn’t go there yet. The memory was still too close, too frightening. She couldn’t fall apart now. The whole castle needed her. Silly her, thinking she was mending.
“I’m cold,” Marjorie said.
She wrapped the blanket closer around herself, got up, and went to the fireplace. The coals were still hot and glowing, and warmth spread through her as she sank to her knees and stretched her arms out. She reached out to the pile of firewood and put a couple of logs on the coals.
“How did ye hear them?” Marjorie asked without looking back at Konnor. “Even I didn’t until it was too late.”
“Military training,” Konnor said. “I’m a Marine. And I have a security firm.”
She looked over her shoulder at him. He winced as he lowered himself to sit on the edge of her bed. She was suddenly aware he was shirtless. A handsome, shirtless man. He sat with his injured foot on his other knee. She could see his broad shoulders in the semidarkness of the room, and the muscles of his arms played as he massaged his leg around the splint. This was the first time a man—a half-naked man—had been in her room, and yet she felt as safe with Konnor as she did with her brothers.
“A security firm?” she said. “So ‘tis how ye ken sword fighting?”
She suddenly realized that Konnor had protected her son with her grandfather’s sword. If that wasn’t a sign of Sir Colin watching over his great-grandson, she didn’t know what was.
Konnor shook his head. “I held a sword for the first time in my life tonight.”
“Then how could you be security for someone?”
He pursed his lips, his jaw muscles working. A thoughtful expression clouded his handsome face.
“Can I ask you a question?” He paused for a moment. “What year is it?”
Marjorie chuckled. “What year is it? ’Tis the year of our Lord, 1308.”
He exhaled slowly, his lips forming the letter “O”. Strange reaction.
“Why?” Marjorie said. “Did ye forget?”
She turned back to the fireplace. The firewood was only charring from the heat of the coals, and she put some kindling under them. She leaned forward and carefully blew on the coals until the kindling flared up.
Marjorie turned back to Konnor. He stretched his leg out and watched her with a thoughtful frown, as though he couldn’t decide on something important.
“I didn’t forget,” he finally said. “So you really don’t know what the USA is?”
“No.”
“Hmmm. Who rules Scotland?”
“King Robert the Bruce, although we’re fighting with King Edward of England, who’s allied himself with several Scottish clans, including the MacDougalls. ’Tis why my brothers, my father, and the rest of my clan are nae here.”
Konnor rubbed his forehead.
“And the word democracy, does it mean anything to you?”
“’Tis something Greeks tried once, nae?”
Konnor nodded and hung his head as though doomed. He put his hands on his forehead and ran his fingers through his hair. This didn’t look right.
“Konnor, what is it?” Marjorie said. “Why does the year matter, the king, the democracy?”
He sucked in a breath, looked at her, and then exhaled.
“It matters because you say it’s 1308. And last time I checked, it was 2020. I was born in 1987. In my time, there are no more kings other than symbolic ones. And democracy is how the world operates. For the most part, anyway.”
Marjorie winced, trying to work through what he’d just said. His words made no sense, yet he seemed so convinced. He looked desperate. Confused. A little scared even. He spoke like a madman but behaved like someone in trouble. Mayhap, he was aware of his madness?
“Say something,” Konnor said. “You must think I’m crazy.”
Marjorie scoffed. “’Tis exactly what I think. I’m a woman of logic and reason, nae of superstitions and magic. Do ye mean to imply Isbeil was right about the tunnel through time?”