Konnor raised his arms in the air and made a half-hearted triumphant run. “Yeah!”
Marjorie and Colin watched him with amusement.
“So it’s one point for me,” he said. “Colin, you try now.”
Colin beamed. Marjorie threw him the bunch, he caught it and put on the ground. He kicked it but missed.
“It’s okay,” Konnor said and came closer. “Try again.”
Colin aimed his shoe at the bunch and kicked again, but this time he only scratched the surface of the bunch, and it rolled diagonally. Damn it. The thing was too small for pointy shoes.
“It’s too small. What we need, is a ball,” Konnor said and demonstrated the size with his hands.
“A ball? Where can we get one?”
A lightbulb moment illuminated everything around Konnor. It was ridiculous that he was enjoying this so much. Perhaps he wasn’t so bad with kids. Colin did look more cheerful and seemed to have forgotten about the kidnappers.
“We can make one.” What could he use though? He scratched his chin. “I think the easiest would be to take a small heap of hay and wrap a layer or two of a hemp rope around it, like a yarn ball, to hold it. Later, I can help you make a real ball. What do you think, buddy?”
Colin looked at Marjorie. “Ma, ye dinna mind if I make a soccer ball with Konnor?”
Marjorie’s eyes connected with his, and there was so much gratitude and light in it that it took his breath away.
“I dinna mind, sweet.”
Chapter 21
The hay ball worked great, and although Marjorie had to go and inspect today’s work while there was still light, Konnor and Colin had a great time playing with the ball outside of the castle. Colin was clearly happy to be out of the walls for a while, and Konnor felt honored that Marjorie entrusted him with the boy’s safety.
Once the sun set and the sky was painted in a dark indigo mixed with orange and red, Colin started getting tired. Konnor took Colin back into the castle, and they had a meal together in the great hall, where Konnor told Colin more about the future: the cars, the boats, and the planes.
Unfortunately, he’d soon return to his time, and the boy would need to stay here. Talking of the twenty-first century, he thought again of his mother, and worry for her jabbed him in the gut. She was all right, he told himself. She was fine. She still had money. And she had people to look after her if something went wrong.
The best thing he could do was keep himself busy and help preparing for the attack by improving his sword-fighting skills and helping with the fortifications of the castle.
Next morning, after a breakfast of porridge, Konnor went outside the castle walls to see if he could help plant the stakes in the ground. About ten men worked there, including Muir and Tamhas.
Malcolm was showing a man how to cut the sharp edge of the stake. White saw shavings fell from under the blade of the ax, filling the air with the scent of fresh wood.
Konnor stopped next to Malcolm. “Do you need an extra pair of hands?”
Malcolm looked him over, estimating. “Aye, lad. Always.” He nodded at Tamhas and Muir, who were digging holes in the ground at the base of the northern wall. “Ye can plant the stakes that are ready in the holes. Muir can help.” He pointed at the heap of long, wooden stakes lying nearby.
“Sure,” he said.
Muir approached him and greeted Konnor with a short. They took the stake together. It was damn heavy, and Konnor’s arms strained with its weight. Both men put the stake on their shoulders and carried it to the trench where other stakes had been planted.
Tamhas had just finished digging a hole and glanced at Konnor with a frown. His nostrils flared once.
“On my count,” Konnor said. “One, two, three.”
He put the end of the stake into the hole, and both Konnor and Muir held it at a forty-five-degree angle while Tamhas was put shovels of dirt over the planted end.
“I saw ye playing something with Colin and the mistress,” Tamhas growled as he shoved the dirt. “Dinna ye dare get too close to her.”
“Tamhas, lad, calm down,” Muir said.
“Dinna patronize me, Muir,” he barked across his shoulder. “I wilna stand and watch this stranger hurt our mistress and Colin.”
“The last thing I want is to hurt her,” Konnor growled through his teeth, his biceps aching from the weight of the stake. “Or her son.”
“Well. That remains to be seen.” Tamhas stabbed the ground with the shovel, and moved dirt into the hole.
“Work faster,” Muir said. “This stake is nae a feather. Have ye done this before, Konnor? How did ye ken how to improve the fortifications?”
Konnor cleared his throat. Although Konnor and Isbeil knew about him being from another time, he was pretty sure it wasn’t a great idea to tell everyone. Didn’t they burn witches and such in Middle Ages?
“No. Just common sense. I have fought for my country, though, so I know military tactics.”
“And what country is that?” Tamhas said.
Damn. He shouldn’t have said that. “I doubt you know it. It’s far away.”
Tamhas threw another batch of dirt. “Ye dinna think I ken other kingdoms? I’m a Cambel, too, from my mother’s side. I was fostered with Marjorie and her brothers and educated by the monks just as Craig, Owen, and Domhnall. I can read and write.”
The log was pressing on Konnor’s chest, making it hard for him to breathe. He shifted it to move the weight a little. “I never said you couldn’t, man. It’s in the west. No one knows it.”
“What is in the west, actually?” Muir grunted. The weight was getting to him, too.
“Ireland,” Tamhas said. “Are ye a gallowglass?”
What the hell was a gallowglass? He hoped it was some sort of warrior.
“Sure,” he said. “I am.”
“Aye. Makes sense. They’re brutal. Dinna the MacLeods provide Ireland with gallowglasses?”
“I say he’s full of shite,” Tamhas said.
“Ah stop it,” Muir said. “The lad saved Colin when the MacDougalls came into his bedroom. And he was injured. I have enough sense in me to ken he is an asset. Did ye learn to fight like that in Ireland?”
Konnor cleared his throat. “Nae. A master of judo came to teach the Chinese art of combat. This is where I learned it from.”
Muir slowly nodded, contemplating the information. “Simple fists, elbows, and knees nae suffice?”
“Actually, they do,” Konnor said. “Only used differently.”
Tamhas threw the last patch of dirt and placed a pitch pole under the stake to prop it up at the correct angle. Konnor and Muir removed their arms, and relief surged through Konnor as blood flowed down into his hands.
“Next stake,” Muir said and walked to the pile.
Konnor turned to join him when Tamhas caught him by the shoulder. His eyes glistened with a contained threat. “Ye stay away from her, ye son of a bitch.”
A bolt of anger slashed through Konnor’s gut. “Don’t provoke me, man.”
Maybe Tamhas saw something in Konnor’s eyes, because his expression turned challenging.
“Dinna provoke ye?” he said. “And what happens if I do?”