“A doctor is a healer,” he said, offering her a lovely smile that made her heart skip a beat. “In the future,” he said, giving her a beseeching look that she took as a plea for her continued silence, “the medical field—er, the healing arts—has made great strides. My degree—” He shook his head and mumbled something to himself. “I mean to say I studied your time period—what we call medieval history—and more specifically Ancient Medieval History—in college.” She raised her eyebrows in an unspoken question to which he said, “College is where men and women go to study, sort of how people in your time might go to the Church.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Menandwomen?”
He laughed, the sound full and rich. “Yes, Maggie, menandwomen. Women, in my time, in the twenty-first century, are considered equal to men.”
“Ha! Now I know ye are lying.”
“I’m not. I swear. Women have struggled greatly through the centuries to get equal rights.” He paused, looking as if he was considering something. “If you could do anything you wanted, what would you choose to do? Choose to be?”
The wind whistled suddenly, and a gust flapped her hair around her shoulders. Rhys’s gray gaze grew intent and fire seemed to light it from within. Did he desire her? She had never thought about such things, but now, since meeting him, it seemed to be all she could think of. A storm was coming and not just the one that blew around them. There was a tempest brewing between them. Or at least she thought there was. It felt like little stings on her skin, a prickle of awareness, a deep ache in her belly. If she didn’t leave him soon, she half wondered if she could resist him if he wanted to kiss her, to touch her. Heaven above, she didn’t even know if she wanted to resist him!
“Can’t decide, huh?” Rhys asked.
She stared at him in utter confusion for a breath as the wind howled and the leaves started to rustle on the ground. The snow came down harder. They had to find shelter—real shelter. Then she remembered his question. “I’d choose to be a healer,” she said, looking down at the herbs she’d gathered. Were they really poisonous? Why was she even listening to him? He had not given her any proof yet.
He grinned. “In my time, you could be a doctor. You would go to something called medical school, and then you would practice medicine and heal people.”
His comment infuriated her. Because if it was true, he was dangling something precious in front of her that she could never have. “Well, in my time,” she snapped, shifting from foot to foot to warm up, “I can nae be a healer because my sister and brother need me to wed, and just because I have ruined my betrothal does nae mean I will nae soon have another. And it would be unlikely that the man who will take me to wife would allow me to be a healer. For some reason, many people think it is nae a suitable duty for the lady of a castle.”
He frowned. “Maybe you will have a husband who is a forward thinker.”
“What type of thinking is that?”
“The opposite of backward,” he said with a laugh.
“If ye can nae be serious,” she said in a threatening tone, to which he looked suitably contrite and entirely too handsome.
“What I mean is that maybe your husband will let you do as you wish.”
“Doubtful,” she growled. He opened his mouth as if to protest, but then he shut it. “I must wed a powerful man who can aid my brother and sister—my sister needs a husband and my brother needs to advance in the ranks. And men with great power, in my experience, want meek, biddable, boring wives.”
“Why is it up to you to ensure those things happen for your brother and sister?” Rhys asked. The anger in his voice took her by surprise. Why was he vexed?
“Because I’m the only one who can. King Alexander was my godfather, and he gifted me a castle when I was born. It’s a strategic castle that many clans want, so men wish to wed me. It is the only castle left to my family after the king took the rest of my family’s holdings away, as I told ye.”
“King Alexander was your godfather?” The astonishment on his face was clear.
“Aye,” she replied.
“Were you close to him?” Rhys asked.
“Nay. My mother was a verra distant cousin, but they were childhood friends.”
“The king did not fall from his horse, Maggie. He was murdered.”
She gaped at him for a moment. This claim was not as easy to discard. “Murdered? Can ye prove it?”
“I can’t, and history says otherwise, but I think my mother knows the truth and can prove it.”
“Shona?” she said skeptically.
He frowned, looking almost hurt by her tone. “Yes.”
She wanted to believe him, despite the impossibility, despite what it would mean for what she knew, despite how it scared her, but she couldn’t. She simply couldn’t. “What ye say is impossible, Rhys.”
“And what if it’s not? What if I can prove that I speak the truth?” he asked. “Would you stay with me? Would you help me get to my mother’s family home in Perthshire?”
She desperately wanted to ask him if aiding him in finding his way to Perthshire was the only reason he wanted her to stay, but she couldn’t find the boldness to do so. It was likely best that way, for if he hadn’t lost his mind and what he said was true, he would wish to return to his time, wouldn’t he? Nothing could become of them; they were not even athem.
