TWENTY-ONE
“Why don’t you have the lights on?” Mellie said as she flicked the switch, and he blinked, the harsh light hurting his eyes.
“I prefer candles.” Connor watched her flittering about like a bird, its heart beating too fast, scared of an approaching hawk. “Come and sit beside me, lass.”
But the past se’nnight she’d been skittish as a colt, and she danced away from him, going into the kitchen to pour them another glass of wine. He’d come to love the wine. ’Twas called Moscato. It was sweet, reminding him of the taste of her lips. He wished to drink the intoxicating beverage from her mouth.
Their hands touched when she handed the glass to him. Heat traveled up his arm, and the way she snatched her hand back, he knew she felt the same, knew what was between them.
Mellie went to the chair across from his, tucking her legs under her. He had been in the future for six weeks. Since he and Fitz had escaped, Connor had not heard any news of their escape. The internet fascinated him. He did not understand how information could travel so quickly. Just by sitting in front of a piece of glass, and pushing buttons, news from far away came to him. It made his head hurt if he thought about it overlong, but he was grateful the people at Mint Hill were not looking for him or Fitz.
Mellie showed him how to search the internet. The history of his country saddened him, and the history of the world, the way things were now, made him believe wars would never end. The only thing that would change was who was fighting.
When she went to work, he would sit down in front of her computer for a short time, and then much time would pass, hours, and Connor found himself watching videos of animals doing silly things, like cats falling off counters. or dogs wearing silly clothes, and it made him laugh. He saw how people could stay in front of the small device and never go out in the world. She railed about this whenever Mellie found him laughing over a video.
They spent much time talking and walking around the harbor and in the park. At a local market, Mellie had told him there were many children today that had never grown their own food, never harvested food from the ground or understood where meat came from. This saddened him, for he knew connection with the earth soothed the soul and was important to all. Connor could not fathom how people did not want to feel the grass under their feet. When he did not go outside, Connor became grumpy. He needed wide-open spaces like fish needed to be in the water.
While Mellie read a book, he listened to music. ’Twas what she called country. The men were always singing about their women: losing them, finding them, loving them. He liked his music very much.
Her small box rang. It was a phone. He was getting better with modern things and modern terms, and while this time was full of wonder, Connor missed his own era. This place was harsh, a dissonant tone in his soul. His love of the land made him ache for home.
Many times, Connor had begun to tell her who he really was and from whence he came, but he was fearful she would have him taken back to Mint Hill or to a worse place. He knew he would die if he were sent back. Once he knew she would believe him, he would tell her the truth. But he still caught her looking at him as if he were a dolt, and knew she was judging him, trying to decide if he was witless.
Mellie had searched the internet for news of him, but found none. He told her he could not remember the village in Scotland or where he taught school. She looked uneasy but did not ask him again, only asking how he would get a new passport if he could not remember who he was. Connor shrugged. He did not like deceiving her, so he would make her laugh in hopes she would forget her questions.
One day, when they were out walking, she helped him buy a phone so he could “text” Fitz. Texting was a marvelous invention. He and Fitz texted back and forth many times a day. Fitz said that in a se’nnight, he thought it would be safe for them to meet. Tracy said a guard who always left the door unlocked had been blamed for the escape. She would leave her job soon and find another place to live so she and Fitz could be married. Fitz said he had always wanted to live on the water, and so had she, so she was trying to find new work, and once she did, he would find work too, perhaps not as a professor. He would write books.
Connor was surprised to learn that one could make money from writing such books. He thought he might try writing a book of history. He longed to tell how battles had truly happened and tell of skirmishes that were long forgotten. He had lost many he cared about. Even though he was an outlaw and no longer had a clan, he would always call the McTavish clan his own, and so many of them had been lost.
Culloden had broken his heart. ’Twas an end to a way of life in the Highlands, and his heart ached every time he looked at pictures on the computer or read about the battle and what happened after.
Her voice changed, and the tone made him sit up from the couch, putting the laptop on the cushion beside him, careful not to let it fall. The machine was verra expensive, and he did not want to break it. Not after the other things he had broken. They had taken another of his coins and exchanged it. The man gave him a great deal of money for the coin. She asked how he had come to have such old coins. Affronted, he told her he earned them from an arrogant Englishman.
Mellie’s voice reached a high pitch, and he knew she was vexed. He walked to the terrace where she had left the door open, and Connor sat down in the chair next to her, taking her hand in his. She startled then relaxed, squeezing his hand. For the first time, he was hopeful she cared for him as he did for her. Connor was a man of honor. He could not make her his own without telling her the truth. Soon.
“Mom, that’s awful. I’m so sorry the place burned down. It’s been there for years. Talk about a landmark.” She had her phone on what she called speaker, so Connor could hear what her mother was saying.
“I know, honey, but we’ll find another place, so it’ll only be a few weeks—a month or two at the most. I’ve gotten in touch with everybody, even Jilly. She says she’ll come whenever we know the date.” The sigh sounded loud. “Anyway, I don’t want to talk about my sister. I want to know when we’re going to meet this professor of yours. He’s always jetting off somewhere. Your father and I are worried that he doesn’t pay enough attention to you.”
Connor grinned as Mellie’s cheeks turned the pink of the sunset he watched every night. Her eyes slid to him and then away, like fish darting in the loch. He squeezed her hand tighter and picked her up. She squeaked and settled her on his lap.
“What’s wrong, honey?”
“Nothing, Mom. I thought I saw a rat down on the street.”
“You know I wish you would move out of that apartment. I know the view is amazing, but living around the harbor, honey. Do you really think it’s safe? Why don’t you move out near your brothers and dad and I?”
Connor felt the tension in her body as she sat straight up, refusing to lean into him.
“I like it here. The view is amazing. I’m not ready to move. Maybe next year, when my lease is up. I’ll think about it.”
“Okay, honey, just keep it in mind. How about we all meet for dinner this weekend?”
Connor pulled her against him as she shook her head.
“Maybe. I need to check with Connor and see if he has to teach a workshop. I’ll let you know later this week.”
She ended the call and jumped off his lap, pacing back and forth.
“She drives me crazy sometimes. Now what am I gonna do?”
He knew she did not expect him to answer, and yet he did.
“I will eat with your family. They will find me to their liking.”
She arched a brow at him. “They think you’re my boyfriend.”
He nodded. Connor had not forgotten the kiss, and many times he had caught her touching her fingers to her lips while she looked at him. He knew she was thinking of the kiss too.
“Then tell them I am wooing you. You could kiss me again.”
“What? No way. We have a deal.” She shook her head. “We need to work on your story a bit if you’re going to be my fake boyfriend. You’re so…” She waved her hands around him.
“Manly. Strong. Handsome. Charming.” He chuckled.
“Full of yourself, pigheaded, stubborn, and I’m sure you could charm the skirt off a nun.”
Connor threw his head back and laughed.
“Come, you need food. When you do not eat, you are most unpleasant,” he said, gratified to see her frown at him. In truth, he liked her when she was displeased with him. It made her even more beautiful. He loved her curls and her body. She complained about her hips and her arse, but he found both most pleasing. He found all of her pleasing, and wanted her exactly as she was.