Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
K ate had never seen so many people determined to be cheerful in the face of danger. Two days after the assassination attempt, Connor had organized a celebration, ostensibly to honor the summer solstice, but everyone knew it was really to boost morale after the MacDonald assassin’s infiltration of the keep.
Even still, she could feel the undercurrents of tension rippling through every interaction. While people laughed and danced, Kate saw them watching each other, searching for signs of treachery among familiar faces. As the newcomer, she was an easy target for their fears and mistrust. Whispered conversations died the moment she approached. A few clan members shifted away when she joined them. Even Nessa, who had begun to warm to her, now watched her when she thought Kate wasn’t looking. The mounting distrust threatened to unravel the fragile threads she’d begun to form here, and she couldn’t help but wonder if this was exactly what the MacDonald laird had intended all along.
The great hall was near to bursting. Trestle tables had been pushed to the sides, laden with food and drink. A trio of musicians played in the corner. The pipes, fiddle, and bodhrán had people clapping in time and dancing. The hall was warm from the massive fire and the press of bodies, the air thick with the smell of roasted meat, ale, and woodsmoke.
Kate stood near one of the tables, nursing a cup of watered wine. She’d learned her lesson about Highland whisky the hard way.
“You should eat something,” Nessa appeared at her side, pressing a wooden trencher into her hands. The plate held a slice of venison, some oatcakes, and some kind of fish stew. Kate’s stomach lurched at the thought of food. She’d barely eaten since that night on the battlements.
“Thank you,” she said anyway, not wanting to seem ungrateful. “It looks delicious.”
The woman, who basically ran the keep for Connor, studied her face. “Troublesome dreams?”
Kate nodded, not surprised she’d guessed. “Every time I close my eyes, I see him falling.”
“’Twas him or you, lass. And likely others as well.” Nessa patted her arm. “The first killing is always the hardest.”
The first killing. As if there would be more. Kate suppressed a shudder.
“In my ti—” she caught herself. “Where I come from, most people never have to kill anyone.”
“You come from a peaceful place indeed.” Nessa looked skeptical.
“Not exactly peaceful,” Kate murmured. “Just... different.”
Across the room, Connor was deep in conversation with his men. He’d spent the last two days strengthening the keep’s defenses, questioning everyone about the night of the storm, trying to identify who might have helped the MacDonald assassin gain entry. The investigation had yielded nothing conclusive, and the tension within the castle walls was enough to send Kate fleeing to the gardens or anywhere else where she would be outside.
Even now, as he spoke with his warriors, he caught her eye. Their gazes locked, and something warm unfurled in her chest. He’d been like this since that night. Watchful, protective, seeking her out whenever they were in the same room.
“Himself hasn’t taken his eyes off you all evening,” Nessa observed, following her line of sight.
“He’s just being cautious,” Kate replied, though she knew it wasn’t entirely true. Something had shifted between them.
Before Nessa could utter some sarcastic retort, the music changed, shifting to something slower and more melodic. People began pairing off for a dance.
“Go on,” the woman said, giving her a gentle push. “Live a little. You survived for a reason.”
Kate hesitated. She’d learned a few Scottish dances during her time at the keep, but she was far from proficient. And dancing with Connor seemed... dangerous, somehow. Not because of any physical threat, but because of the way her heart raced whenever he was near.
But Nessa was right. She had survived. And sitting on the sidelines nursing her trauma wasn’t going to help anyone. Taking a deep breath, she set down her trencher and cup, only to look up to see Connor making his way over to her. The firelight caught the angles of his face, softening his usually stern features. Her breath caught when his blue eyes met hers.
“Would ye honor me with a dance?” he asked, extending his hand, the muscles in his forearms rippling.
Her heart skipped at the unexpected invitation. In that moment, with the warm glow of the fire highlighting his rugged features and a rare smile playing at his lips, he was breathtakingly handsome.
“I would like that very much,” she said, placing her hand in his.
His palm was warm and callused against hers as he led her to the center of the hall where other couples were already moving to the music. Kate was acutely aware of the eyes following them. This was the first time they’d danced together, and in this small community, such things were noted.
“I should warn you,” she said as they took their positions, “I’m not very good at this.”
“Then it’s fortunate you’ve found yourself in the arms of the finest dancer in the Highlands,” Connor replied, a playful glint in his eyes. “I won’t let you falter, lass.”
The dance began, a pattern of steps that brought them together, then apart, then together again. Connor’s hand at her waist guided her through the turns, his touch gentle. She found herself relaxing into the rhythm, letting the music and his lead carry her.
“You’re doing well,” he murmured during a moment when they were close. “Though I suspect you weren’t being entirely truthful about your dancing abilities.”
“I have a good teacher,” she replied, then immediately flushed at how flirtatious it sounded.
His eyes crinkled at the corners, and a rare, full smile graced his features. “Aye, that you do, and he’s rather enjoying the lesson.”
They moved apart again, joining hands with other dancers to form a circle, then returning to each other. Each time they came together, she felt the connection between them strengthen, like a thread being pulled taut.
“I never properly thanked you,” he said during their next close pass.
“For what?”
“For saving my life.” His gaze was intense, searching her face. “The MacDonald was headed for my chamber. If you hadn’t stopped him...”
Kate swallowed hard. “I just reacted. I didn’t think.”
“Sometimes thinking only slows us down.” His hand squeezed hers. “You have good instincts.”
She wasn’t sure that was a compliment. Back home, she’d prided herself on her analytical mind, her ability to think through problems. Acting on instinct had never been her style. But here, in this time and place, perhaps instinct was what kept her alive.
The dance ended, and they stood facing each other, slightly breathless. The hall had grown warmer, or perhaps it was just the heat rising to Kate’s cheeks under his steady gaze.
“Would you like some air?” he asked, nodding toward the door that led to the inner courtyard.
She nodded, not trusting her voice. He offered his arm, and she took it, letting him guide her through the crowded hall and out into the cool night.
The courtyard was quiet, the sounds of celebration muffled by the thick stone walls. Above them, stars glittered in a clear sky, so much brighter than Kate had ever seen them back in Atlanta. The moon cast everything in silver light, transforming the ordinary keep into something magical.
“Beautiful,” she murmured, tilting her head back to take in the night sky.
“Aye,” Connor agreed, though when she glanced at him, he wasn’t looking at the stars.
A blush crept up her neck. She dropped her gaze, suddenly self-conscious.
“How are you truly?” he asked, his voice gentle. “After what happened?”
She considered deflecting, giving the same answer she’d given Nessa and everyone else who asked. That she was fine, that she was coping. But something about the quiet darkness and Connor’s genuine concern made her want to be honest.
“I keep seeing his face,” she admitted. “The moment he realized he was falling. The surprise in his eyes.”
Connor nodded, understanding in his expression. “The first time I took a life, I was thirteen. A raid on our cattle. I didn’t sleep properly for weeks after.”
“Does it get easier?” she asked, then immediately shook her head. “No, don’t answer that. I don’t think I want it to get easier.”
“It doesn’t,” he said anyway. “Not if you have a soul. But you learn to live with it. To remember why ’twas necessary.”
They walked slowly around the perimeter of the courtyard, their arms still linked. The night air was cool, carrying the scent of the sea and the earthy smell of summer.
“I’m not used to violence,” Kate said after a while. “Where I come from, most disagreements are settled with words, not swords.”
“Sounds peaceful,” Connor observed.
“It is, in some ways. But people still hurt each other. They just do it differently.”
He was quiet for a moment, considering her words. “You speak as if you come from another world entirely.”
Kate’s heart skipped a beat. She’d been so careful not to reveal too much about herself, but sometimes it slipped out. “Sometimes it feels that way,” she said carefully.
“One day, perhaps you’ll tell me more about this peaceful place,” he said, his tone light but his eyes serious.
“Perhaps,” she agreed, though the thought of explaining modern transportation, smartphones and dating apps to a seventeenth-century totally hot Highland warrior made her head spin.
They had completed a full circuit of the courtyard and now stood near the door. The sounds of music and laughter spilled out into the night, but neither of them moved to go back inside.
“Thank you for the dance,” Kate said, breaking the silence. “And for the fresh air.”
“My pleasure,” Connor replied. His eyes searched her face in the moonlight, and for a moment, she thought he might kiss her. Her breath caught in her throat at the possibility.
But then a guard called from the battlements, reporting the changing of the watch, and the moment was broken.
“I should return,” Connor said, regret evident in his voice.
“Of course,” Kate nodded, trying not to show her disappointment. “A laird’s work is never done.”
He smiled at that. “Truer words were never spoken.”
They returned to the great hall, where the celebration continued unabated. He was immediately swept up by a group of men, and Kate found herself back at the periphery, watching the festivities with a strange sense of detachment.
Despite the warmth and noise of the hall, a chill crept over her. The brief respite in the courtyard with Connor had been just that, a respite. The reality of her situation remained unchanged. She was stranded in the past, caught in the middle of a clan feud, with blood on her hands and no clear way home.
The thought followed her like a shadow as she made her excuses and retired for the night.
* * *
The man’s face contorted with shock as he fell backward, arms windmilling uselessly. His mouth opened in a silent scream that was lost to the howling wind. Kate reached for him, too late, her fingers grasping empty air. She ran to the edge of the battlements, looking down in horror as his body struck the rocks below with a sickening crack that somehow carried over the storm.
But when she looked down, it wasn’t the MacDonald assassin lying broken on the rocks. It was Connor, his blue eyes open and staring, accusing her. You did this , they seemed to say. You killed me .
“No!” Kate screamed, the sound tearing from her throat. “Connor! No!”
She jerked awake, heart pounding, the scream still echoing in her ears. For a moment, she didn’t know where she was. The darkness was absolute, disorienting. Then slowly, her chamber came into focus, outlined by the faint glow of moonlight through the window.
A nightmare. Just a dream.
Kate sat up, drawing her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. Her chemise was damp with sweat, and she was shivering despite the embers still glowing in the hearth.
The images from the nightmare were still vivid. Connor’s broken body, his accusing eyes. She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyelids, trying to banish the vision.
A soft knock at her door made her jump.
“Kate?” Connor’s voice, low and concerned. “Are ye all right?”
Had she screamed aloud? She must have, for him to have heard.
“I’m fine,” she called back, her voice raspy. “Just a nightmare.”
There was a pause, then, “May I come in?”
She hesitated. She knew it wasn’t proper, him being in her chamber at night. But propriety seemed a small concern compared to the terror still gripping her.
“Yes,” she said finally.
The door opened, and he slipped inside, closing it quietly behind him. He wore a linen shirt and trews, his feet bare, hair tousled from sleep. He must have come straight from his chamber.
“I heard ye cry out,” he said, moving to light a candle from the embers in the hearth. The small flame cast a warm glow over the room, pushing back the shadows.
“I’m sorry I woke you,” Kate said, drawing the blankets up to her chin, suddenly conscious of her state of undress.
“You didn’t, mo chridhe ,” he assured her, setting the candle on the small table beside her bed. “I was already awake.”
In the candlelight, she could see the concern in his eyes, the furrow between his brows. Without asking, he sat on the edge of her bed, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight.
“Was it the assassin?” he asked quietly.
She nodded, not trusting her voice. Then, because it wasn’t the whole truth, she added, “And you.”
He arched a brow as he tilted his head at her, waiting.
“In the dream, it was you who fell,” she explained, the words catching in her throat. “You who died.”
Understanding dawned in his eyes. “Ah,” he said softly. “That explains why you called my name.”
Had she? Kate couldn’t remember.
“It felt so real,” she whispered, a shudder running through her. “I could hear... when he hit the rocks. I could hear it.”
Connor’s face softened with compassion. Without a word, he gathered her into his arms, pulling her close against his chest.
Kate hesitated only a moment before leaning into his embrace. His arms closed around her, strong and secure, and something inside her broke. The tears came then, hot and fast, soaking into his shirt as she pressed her face against his chest.
“Has anyone in your family...” he murmured, his hand stroking her hair, “ever had the ability to see things before they happened?”
“Are you worried about dying?” She pulled back slightly, looking up at him through tear-stained eyes. The words from the guidebook came back to her, and while she knew she couldn’t reveal them without telling him how she knew, Kate made a vow to watch, and if a MacDonald woman came calling under a flag of truce, she would tell him then and only then.
He held her tighter, one hand continuing its gentle motion through her hair, the other firm around her waist. He didn’t answer, just held her, a solid presence in the storm of her emotions.
Gradually, the sobs subsided, leaving Kate exhausted but somehow lighter. She became aware of his heartbeat under her ear, steady and strong. His hand continued its gentle motion through her hair, soothing her like a child.
“Better?” he asked after a while, his voice a rumble she felt against her cheek.
Kate nodded, not yet willing to pull away from the comfort of his embrace. “Thank you,” she murmured. “I’m not usually so... emotional.”
“There’s no shame in it,” Connor said. “What you did, what you saw, it would shake anyone.”
She lifted her head to look at him, struck by the sincerity in his voice. In the candlelight, his features were softer, the usual stern set of his jaw relaxed. His blue eyes reflected the small flame, turning them almost gold at the center.
“You’re a good man, Connor MacLeod,” she said softly.
Something changed in his expression, a warmth kindling in his eyes. His gaze dropped to her lips, and Kate’s breath caught. Slowly, giving her time to pull away, he leaned forward as every nerve in her body went on high alert.
The blast of a horn shattered the moment.
He jerked back, his head turning toward the sound. “The dawn patrol,” he said, regret clear in his voice.
“You should go.” Kate nodded, trying to hide her disappointment.
He hesitated, clearly torn. Then, with a sigh, he rose from the bed. “Try to rest,” he said, his voice gentle. “I’ll have Moira bring you something to help with the dreams.”
“Thank you,” Kate said, already missing the warmth of his presence.
At the door, he paused, looking back at her. For a moment, it seemed he might say something more. But then he simply nodded and slipped out, closing the door quietly behind him.
She lay back against the pillows, fingers touching her lips where his kiss would have landed. The nightmare’s grip had loosened, replaced by a different kind of tension, a yearning for something more.
Outside, the sky was beginning to lighten with the first hint of dawn. Kate watched the gradual change through her window, her thoughts drifting between the man who had just left and the life she had left behind.
For the first time since arriving in this century, she found herself wondering what it might mean to stay.