4

Helping out with the sword-fighting class had been a good idea. Some of the students were even a challenge, and Meehall encouraged them to give him a strong workout. His current sparring partner was especially tough, having 50 pounds more muscle than him. Meehall’s technique was better, honed by years of actual battle experience, but the man's strength was nothing to be dismissed. One solid hit would have Meehall on the floor. Dancing away from the hits allowed him to work out his anger in a productive manner.

Meehall’s youngest brother, John (Eoin \OAÑ\ in Gaelic), had shown up in 1704 two years ago, saying things hadn't worked out back in the time of Hadrian's Wall. They hadn’t seen each other for awhile, so it was good to catch up on all the happenings. There were ways he could call on his brother for help getting back to 1706, so Meehall wasn’t entirely out of luck.

But the idea of being rescued by a younger brother grated. No, Meehall wasn't that desperate yet. He would give Sarah a day to come back before he lowered himself to asking his younger brother for help.

The giant slammed down a particularly hard attack, forcing Meehall to run.

Watching the sword rather than where he was going, he backed right into someone. "Sorry," he said, eyes still on the sword.

"Are you okay?" Sarah asked, doubtlessly dazzled by the giant’s size.

Good, she was back already. And she had his bracer.

Meehall gave his opponent the signal that their bout was over and waited, eyes never leaving that sword.

The burly man acknowledged the signal, sheathed his sword, and wiped his forehead with a towel. "Good bout, mate."

Meehall shook hands with the man, then turned to Sarah, reluctant to let her know how relieved he was to see her. "Sarah! How about we show these students how it's done?" He grabbed a quarterstaff for her from the rack as he searched around for a likely pair of opponents.

But she stayed his hand when he started to beckon. "I'm way out of practice—"

Good. That’ll teach her a lesson about running off with my bracer, even if Kelsey and Stanley are really to blame. "Let's remedy that right away." He tossed her the staff.

She caught it but then put it away. "I don’t have time to practice—"

Really? That was her excuse? "I'm so glad you came back from your trip early. I really need to go on a trip of my own, and with us sharing a …vehicle—"

Sarah’s eyes said she didn’t want to hear it. Too bad.

Needing to get her alone so he could speak freely, he put a hand on her lower back without a second thought and escorted her out of the gymnasium into the cool night air, where he wiped the sweat off his face with one of his billowing Highlander sleeves.

She went with him eagerly. Weird.

Might as well make the best of it. "Thank you for coming back early, Sarah. I really appreciate it." His hand on her back began to feel forward, and he lowered it, but not before their eyes met and a familiar hunger arose in him. That wasn't meant to be, so he fought it down.

But Sarah didn't turn away. "I'm going with you. My friends Nadia and Ellie went with me, and they have been kidnapped back in 1706." She ran toward Stanley's office.

He caught up and ran alongside her. "Give back my bracer."

"I will, once we’re back in 1706."

"Okay," he sighed in annoyance.