Storms clouds are gathering
The wind is gonna blow.
~ Maya Angelou, “Alone”
The Past
1286
Fifeshire, Scotland
“I’ve a dagger, and I’m nae afraid to use it!” Maggie Irvine bellowed the lie at the man who’d suddenly popped up out of the moonlit sea. A horrible realization hit her with numbing force. If she was discovered alone with a man, it would ruin her betrothal. At first, relief filled her, but it was quickly followed by a flood of guilt and another equally gut-twisting awareness. Her brother and sister were counting on her to restore the family fortune, and she could not let them down. No matter what, she could not allow herself to be seen with this stranger.
Shivering from fright and cold, she swam backward, away from him, as he blinked at her. Silence stretched, broken only by the gentle lapping of the water against the shore and the call of the winter birds still awake. There was just enough moonlight that she could make out the man’s brow creasing. That was about all she could see of him in the darkness, except she could now tell that he appeared to be fully clothed. Her initial fear started to subside, but her curiosity grew. It was odd enough for him to have suddenly appeared in the water from nowhere, but to be fully clothed? And in such strange threads, at that!
“Who are ye?” she demanded, her voice echoing loudly in the quiet night.
She cursed herself for her foolishness. She should not have snuck out the window of her appointed bedchamber at the castle to go for a midnight swim. She’d simply wanted one last taste of freedom before Baron Bellecote arrived to wed her. She certainly had not thought anyone would be out here at this hour and in such cold weather. It was a reckless thing to swim on such a night, but she’d been desperate. The feeling of being trussed like a pig had been mounting all day, ever since that morning when Deirdre had told her that an outrider had arrived with word that the baron would be at Kinghorn Castle by morning.
As she waited for the stranger to answer, she swished her arms through the water once more to get nearer to the shore. Then she extended her legs, and her toes grazed the squishy bottom of the sea. She exhaled a relieved breath and gained sure footing.
“I think I’m hallucinating,” the man said, his deep voice startling her a bit in the hushed night.
Recovering quickly, she asked, “Ye are what?” She thought about moving farther away from him, but he’d not attempted to swim toward her and he did sound utterly confused. He had an odd brogue, as well, and she could not place it.
The man’s lips parted, showing the startling white of his teeth as he stared at her. But he didn’t speak. Instead, he gave his head a shake. “You don’t know what hallucinating is?”
“Nay,” she said, trying to decide if she should be offended. Was he questioning her intelligence? “Ye have a verra strange brogue. Mayhap ye are pronouncing the word wrong.”
“Jesus H. Christ,” he muttered.
It was her turn for her mouth to fall open. She’d never heard anyone take the Lord’s name in vain, not even Yearger, and her brother had a temper like a mountain cat. “If ye wish to take the Lord’s name in vain, ye should be thoughtful enough nae to do it right in front of me,” she snapped.
“I’m sorry,” he replied, gliding his arms through the water to keep himself afloat. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“I’m nae offended.” Maggie scoffed. “I’m afraid!”
He tilted his head. “Afraid?”
She frowned and pointed up. “Aye. I’m quite certain using the Lord’s name like that vexes him. I’d nae be surprised if he smites ye.”
“Smites me?” His voice was laced with confusion.
“How the devil can ye nae know whatsmitemeans?” she asked, echoing his earlier reaction to her own query about… What was it? Hallucinating?
“What year is this?” he asked instead of answering her question.
Was the man daft? Based on his strange questions, she would think so if not for his voice. It was deep and commanding and rumbled from his chest.
“It’s the year of our Lord 1286.”
“Jesus H. Christ,” he muttered again. “It worked. It actually worked.”
“Do ye wish to die?” she demanded, looking for lightning to come at them, or him.
The man simply stared at her. Though if she was seeing his expression correctly in the darkness, he seemed to be staringthroughher as if lost in thought.
“Christ,” he said, shortening his earlier blasphemy.
