Could she admit to him what she’d been accused of? And admit she was a coward that had run away instead of staying and defending herself. More importantly, did she trust him to believe in her innocence?
The truth was, she was tired of lying. Tired of pretending, looking for excuses and justifications. She was so relieved he knew about time travel. It felt as though a burden had been lifted off her shoulders. How would it feel to tell him about the worst thing that had ever happened to her?
What if he used that knowledge against her?
No, she stopped herself. No. He wasn’t like that. He’d saved her life and taken care of her. He made her feel like miracles existed and he was about to gift her one.
She’d sworn to never trust anyone again, but she truly wanted to trust people. Even though she was afraid, she could start changing that now.
“Do you really want to know?” she said. “It’s not a happy story.”
“Aye. I’m nae a stranger to sad stories.”
Her hand curled in a fist around the pillow, and she made an effort to relax it. He may never look at her the same again.
“Okay,” she said. “Here goes.”
She took a deep breath in and released the angst that clenched her core. Once she said the words out loud, there would be no turning back. There was a big chance Owen wouldn’t be able to accept her if he thought she was a coward.
The feelings roiling through her resembled those she’d experienced when she went out on a mission to eliminate terrorists. The sinking tension in her gut intensified and she was hyperaware of the slightest movement and every change in the air. Every step could be the difference between life and death, but she took that and waited for a bullet to hit.
“I ran from the police. That’s how I ended up traveling back in time.”
“The police?”
“Right. I suppose, you don’t have police in your time… It’s law enforcement. Like, if you break the law, they arrest you and put you in prison until you’re tried for the crime you committed.”
“Oh. Aye. I understand. They’re like a clan chief who makes sure justice is served and punishes thieves and murderers.”
“Yes. Except, in my time, there’s a whole giant organization that specializes in that. Men and women work for money as policemen.”
“Like a chief’s warriors.”
“Well, yes. I fought a war for my country in Afghanistan.” Owen frowned, so she added, “Middle East.”
“The caliphate?”
“Yes. I suppose that’s what it used to be called back in your time.”
“And what crime did ye commit, lass?”
She locked her eyes with his. Was he disappointed in her? Afraid to hear the answer?
No. He seemed to study her carefully but calmly. In fact, his tone was casual, as though he were asking what kind of tea she preferred. That should have been reassuring, but instead it bothered her.
Had he committed a crime?
“I didn’t,” she said. “But I was set up for one. Someone made it look as though I murdered a man.”
His face lost the calm, attentive expression and went blank. Amber’s chest squeezed, and her limbs chilled. That was it. He’d never look at her in the same way again.
“So yer police think ye murdered someone and are looking for ye to punish ye?”
“Yes. Under martial law, I can get a lifetime in prison, or”—her throat spasmed, and she swallowed—“a death sentence. And there’s no way I can prove I didn’t do it. I wanted to try. I did want to, but I was so terrified, paralyzed. The man who framed me, Major Jackson, he’s too powerful. I’ll lose.”
Owen covered her hand that lay on the pillow with his own. His palm was a little callused and warm. The touch reassured her and melted the icy tension in her chest.
“Tell me everything, lass.”
Amber’s mind flooded with memories.
“De Bourgh reminds me of Major Jackson.”
Owen’s green eyes held an undertone of steel, and his expression grew hard. He pressed his lips into a thin line and didn’t say anything.
“Not with how he looks,” Amber said. “But there’s this dead coldness about him, this determination to achieve things no matter what. Jackson’s smart. And he made my blood chill.”
Where de Bourgh was short and bald, Jackson was tall and had a full head of dark hair. He talked loudly and had a wide, charming smile. But underneath that, she’d seen unmistakable cruelty. People were terrified of him, and his willingness to put the lives of local civilians at risk made her ill.
“Strangely, he was the one who allowed me to stay home for a couple of months when my dad died. I didn’t expect him to be so compassionate.”
“Yer da died?”
“Yeah. Heart attack.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, lass.”
He didn’t look confused. “Do you know what a heart attack is?”
“Nae. But I can get the idea from the name.”
“The funeral two years ago was the last time I saw my brothers. We used to see each other on Christmas and Thanksgiving every year, at our parents’ house. My mom died several years ago, and to be honest, I think my dad gave up on life then. After both our parents were gone, it was as though we didn’t have a reason to come together anymore. So I spent the last two years in Afghanistan. That was when I got together with Bryan.”
Owen’s face tensed.
“What exactly do ye mean by ‘got together’? Doesna sound like he marrit ye.”
“In the future, we’re much more liberal about relationships. He was my boyfriend.”
“Yer lover?”
“Yes, but more than that. We spent time together, went on dates, and so on.” She chuckled. “As much as you can go on dates in the middle of a desert.”
“What are dates?”
“Meeting and spending a nice time together. Going to a restaurant—an inn, I mean, with good food—drinking wine, talking. In your time, I suppose you’d go for a ride with a lady, or for a walk… Bryan and I were together, you know. He was my man, and I was his woman—without being married. That’s normal in the future. People don’t have to get married to have children and build a life together.”
“Sounds like I’d enjoy the future.” Owen chuckled.
“Don’t you want to get married?”
“Nae.” There was something sad and almost bitter flicking on his face. “Marriage isna for me.”
Long ago, Amber had assumed she’d get married one day. She’d wanted a family. She’d always thought after the wedding she’d retire from the army and do something else until she got pregnant.
“I don’t think marriage is for me, either,” she said. “I wanted it before, but not anymore. I’m a fugitive. A criminal. I can’t bring children into a world where their mother could be taken away from them at any moment.”
“So what happened to that boyfriend of yers?” He said the word “boyfriend” through gritted teeth.
“Bryan. We were together for a year, and then we split up. It didn’t work out.”
Amber chose not to reveal that he’d became a bit too rough with her. She wasn’t proud of it and often wondered if it was something in her that had made him be like that.