“And he loves ye?”
“I dinna ken. I thought he did.”
Ian ran his fingers through his long, shaggy hair. “I’ve been a slave for many years, Marjorie, and I thought every day might be my last. I saw the Highlands and ye all in my dreams. I faced death daily. The one regret I had about my life was that I never kent true love. Never had a woman to care for, a bairn to live for. If ye met yer true love, lass, dinna throw it away. Or ye may regret it.”
Marjorie bit her lip, fighting back the tears. He was right. If she didn’t have Colin to think of, she might have tried to find a way to travel in time to Konnor, but she had her son to think about first. And nothing was more important than Colin and his well-being.
“Aye,” she said. “Unfortunately, that isna possible. He’s so far away, he may as well nae exist.” She grasped Ian’s hand and squeezed it. “But it dinna matter. Ye’re here. Ye’re alive and well. Do ye ken what do ye want to do now?”
“Aye. Find my father and live my life quietly in Dundail.”
“Ye chose the wrong time to try to live yer life quietly, cousin. The kingdom’s at war.”
“Dinna concern me. I wielded my sword for too long in Caliphate. I promised I wouldna kill another man in my life.”
Marjorie nodded. It was his decision, but she doubted he’d be able to keep that promise.
“All right, go rest. I’ll ask the servants to bring a bath and hot water for ye, as well as a warm meal. I’ll send men out on a hunt, and we’ll have a feast tonight in yer honor.”
“Thank ye, cousin.”
As Ian went into the tower and climbed the circular stairs, Marjorie watched him thoughtfully and wondered if there was a way for her to be with the love of her life and still keep her son’s best interests at heart. She wished Konnor would change his mind and come back to her. Mayhap he could bring his mother with him. She was sure they would be great friends.
But wishing wouldn’t make it so. She needed to get used to living a life with a hole in her heart. Nothing to do about that.
At least she and her son were free, unlike Ian had been these past years. Thank God, her dear cousin was back from the dead.
Chapter 29
Los Angeles, two weeks later
“Konnor, son, dinner’s ready!” his mom’s voice called from the kitchen.
Konnor screwed a bulb into the chandelier and stepped down from the chair.
“Coming,” he said as he walked towards the switch.
He flicked it and light filled the room. He sighed, looking around. That was the last repair his mom needed. He picked up a glass with whiskey and downed the remaining liquid. Unlike the medieval moonshine, it tasted full and smoky. Just perfect. And yet he’d give anything to drink the rough uisge, because that taste would forever be connected to Marjorie for him.
He switched off the soccer match on TV. While he’d been doing repairs around the house, his mind had wondered, thinking of how else he could make a soccer ball in medieval Scotland. If he’d had more time, he’d have taken wood shavings instead of hay, make pentagons out of leather and sew them together properly.
Yeah, right. He’d never get the chance to do that now, so what was the point of thinking of it?
He stood up and walked from his mom’s living room into the kitchen. Her house was a two-bedroom bungalow, with a shed in her back garden that served as the studio for her painting. The living room was colorful, with walls painted in rich turquoise and wooden paneling that shone almost golden. The brightest paintings hung on the walls—white orchids, and hibiscus flowers with yellow and pink petals, and orange and blue birds of paradise. The house stood on a hill, and Konnor could see the ocean over the roofs.
As he entered the brightly lit kitchen, the scent of freshly ground coriander and fried chicken filled his nostrils. Mom set two plates with burgers on the kitchen island, carrot and celery-root fries on the side. Her tablet next to the plates.
She flashed a nervous smile, though her blue eyes sparkled. Konnor’s stomach twisted in a nervous knot.
“Sit, sit,” she said. “I went to a cooking class on Thursday. We made chicken burgers with a Thai coriander dressing. I thought you’d like it.”
Konnor sat on the high stool and stared at the bun and the fried chicken breast that steamed between it. Mom poured herself a glass of red wine and took out a beer for Konnor. Then she took a seat as well. Her short hair was wavy today, something she hadn’t done for a long time, and turquoise earrings hung from under her locks. She also had pink lipstick on.
Lipstick? She doesn’t wear lipstick…
The light-gray blouse and big, turquoise necklace matching her earrings were new, weren’t they? And what about the makeup?
“Mom,” Konnor said. “What’s going on?”
She chuckled nervously. “Let’s eat first.”
His gut twisted. “No. Tell me.”
They had a usual Sunday routine. He’d come in the morning, bring her groceries and cash. She’d cook lunch, during which he’d do whatever small repairs she needed. They’d talk, she’d show him her new painting, and they’d go for a walk on the beach if the weather permitted. She never wore makeup, as far as he could remember, and she usually had something cozy on, like a jersey.
Actually, he’d noticed that something was different ever since he’d gotten back from Scotland. When he’d reached the Keir farm, the first thing he’d done was call her. And she hadn’t even missed him. She’d been surprised he’d apologized for not calling sooner, even though he was supposed to have been back the day before.
The Keirs had taken him to the hotel in Dalmally, where his friends had booked rooms, and a pissed-off Andy had raged and yelled at him for an hour. Scottish search and rescue hadn’t been able to find him, and they’d been really close to calling his mom to tell her it was likely he’d died.
He’d told Andy he’d gotten lost in the storm, fallen into a ravine, and injured his ankle and his head. He’d said a woman who lived in a cottage found him and took care of him, and he’d stayed with her for a couple of days. The phone lines had been broken, so he couldn’t contact anyone. Andy had still been furious with him.
Andy had his bag with his passport and his phone, and they’d both flown back home right away. During his first week back in L.A., Konnor had gone to see his mom daily, making sure she was all right. She seemed surprised, and maybe even a little annoyed, to have him visit so often. “You’re like a mother hen, Konnor, for God’s sakes. I love you, but please stop, I feel a little suffocated.”
His firm was doing well, and it seemed the world had moved on while he was gone.
Only he hadn’t.
“Mom,” Konnor said, “whatever it is, tell me.”
She sighed and glanced at the tablet. “All right. But promise me you’ll take the news calmly.”
His heart drummed. News? Was she sick? Was she moving? What was going on?
“I met someone.”
Silence. If silence could explode, it just had.
“You what?”
She sighed. “I met someone, and I want you to meet him, too.”
“Mom!”