Chapter Seventeen
“Did ye hear what I said?” Mal demanded.
“Hmm. What?” Arran pulled his gaze away from where he’d been watching Jenna disappear through the doors of the keep and fixed his attention on his cousin.
Mal rolled his eyes. “I asked why ye came riding out to find us this afternoon. Ye seemed in quite the hurry when ye found us at the cove.”
In all the confusion of what had happened, Arran had forgotten to tell Mal about what Merrick had discovered about Njord and his followers.
He growled under his breath, annoyed with himself.
Whatever else might have happened today, he was still the chieftain of this island, and the safety of his people came first. As his captain, Mal should have been the first to learn of this new development, not one of the last.
“Come,” he said. “Let’s stable the horses and I’ll fill ye in.”
Mal nodded, waved away the stable lads who were waiting to take the horses, and together they led their mounts into the cool dimness of the stable. As they stepped inside, the familiar scent of hay and horses filled Arran’s nostrils, soothing in its familiarity.
He led Bran into a stall while Mal put his own mount into a stall opposite and the two of them began untacking the horses and then brushing them down.
As they worked, Arran filled Mal in on what Brother Merrick had learned and what he thought it might mean.
To be honest, he was glad of the distraction as it kept him from thinking about Jenna.
When he was done, Mal fell silent. “So what do we do?” he said at last. “Ask Lir for help? She’s intervened before, so she might do again.”
Arran shook his head. “Nay. I think Lir has done all she can by helping me to bring Jenna here. This is something we have to work out on our own. But Njord has something to do with why Jenna canna heal the magic, I’m sure of it.”
As soon as he said her name, thoughts of her filled his head. The feel of her smooth skin, the touch of her silky hair, the soft scent of her all around him. And the indescribable sensations that had coursed through him as he’d made love to her.
He still couldn’t believe it had happened.
It felt like a dream. He’d known women—plenty of women—but he’d never felt anything for them like what he felt for Jenna.
It wasn’t just physical either. What they’d done on the beach today was just the culmination of what had been growing inside him ever since he’d met her, something he hadn’t been able to put a name to, but had grown stronger and deeper the more time he spent with her.
He knew he should not have let it happen. But, by all the gods in all the heavens, he did not regret it. For the first time in a long, long time, he had felt alive. Because of her. Jenna MacFinnan. Spellweaver and time traveler. A woman he could not have.
“Are ye all right?”
Arran’s thoughts snapped back, and he blinked. “I’m fine. Why?”
Mal frowned at him. “Ye seem… distracted. And ye were staring at Jenna something fierce just now.”
“Dinna talk nonsense, man,” Arran growled. “I wasnae staring.”
“Aye, ye were. And dinna think I didnae notice how ye kept glancing at her on the ride back when ye thought nobody was looking.” His eyes narrowed. “Did something happen between the two of ye?”
Arran scowled at his cousin. “Leave it, Mal.”
But Mal wasn’t about to be put off. “It did, didnae it? Dinna try to deny it, cousin, I know ye too well!”
Arran scrubbed a hand through his hair and blew out a breath, looking around helplessly.
Was he really that obvious? Had anyone else noticed?
He hoped not. He wouldn’t have Jenna’s honor impugned, and if any of his men should utter anything in that regard, they would soon find themselves regretting it.
“Aye,” he breathed. “Something happened between Jenna and me.”
Mal grinned and clapped one of his huge hands to Arran’s shoulder. “So what are ye looking so glum about? I’m happy for ye! Lord knows, ye deserve it!”
“It isnae that simple, is it? I shouldnae have let it happen.”
“Why not?” Mal replied, looking puzzled. “It would hardly be the first time ye’ve tumbled a lass.”
Arran glared at him. “She isnae ‘just a lass’ though, is she? She’s a MacFinnan spellweaver and will be returning to her own time soon enough.”
“All more the reason to enjoy yerselves while ye can.”
Arran threw up his hands. “Why am I even discussing this with ye? Things aren’t like that with Jenna. They’re… they’re… complicated.”
Try as he might, he didn’t seem able to find the words to describe the complex tangle of emotions that was roiling inside him.
Mal blew out a long breath. “Oh. I see.”
Arran narrowed his eyes. “What do ye mean? What do ye see?”
“Do ye really need me to spell it out for ye? Are ye really so blind that ye canna see what is happening here?”
“All I can see,” Arran snapped, clenching his fists. “Is that my cousin is talking himself into a whack on the nose. Speak plainly!”
He and Mal had always been close growing up, being so similar in age, but since the death of his elder brother, Mal had become his closest friend and confidant.
He knew Arran better than anyone, and beneath his bluff exterior Arran knew Mal hid a keen mind and shrewd wit.
Now, he looked uncomfortable. He shifted his feet, playing with the bristles of a curry brush.
“Ye’ve been different ever since ye met Jenna MacFinnan, and I’m not the only one to have noticed it. Rosaline has too. The way ye look for her when ye first enter a room. The way yer voice softens when ye talk about her. The way ye are so overprotective of the lass.”
“Of course I’m protective! I would be protective of any guest under my care!”
“Not like this,” Mal said, shaking his head. “When ye arrived at the beach this afternoon and saw Jenna in the water, I’d never seen a look on yer face like that.”
“What look?” Arran scoffed. “I was annoyed she’d disobeyed my orders, that’s all!”
“Nay, it wasnae annoyance. It was fear. I dinna think I’ve ever seen ye so scared.”
Arran blinked, unsettled by his cousin’s insights.
He’d been furious when he’d seen Jenna in the water, splashing around like she hadn’t got a care in the world when he’d told her time and time again how much danger they were all in.
It had been anger, not fear, he’d felt. Hadn’t it?
But the more he thought about it, the more he recalled the cold sense of dread that had filled him at the sight of Jenna so vulnerable.
Mal was right. It had been fear. Fear of what might happen to Jenna. Fear of losing her.
He sat down heavily on a bale of straw and leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. What was happening to him? Why did he feel like he was no longer in control? Why did he feel like a blind man floundering his way through a maze?
“I canna stop thinking about her,” he admitted, his voice hoarse.
“When I should be concentrating on my duty, on defending our people, on leading the clan, she creeps into my thoughts. I canna sleep for thoughts of her. And when she’s not around, I found myself counting down the moments until I can see her again.
” He looked up imploringly at Mal. “What’s happening to me? ”
Mal gave him a sympathetic smile then sat down on the straw bale, clapping him on the shoulder. “Isnae it obvious? Ye are in love with her.”
Arran stared at Mal. In love with her? What a ridiculous notion! He was not in love with her. He couldn’t be. Could he?
He stared down at his hands where they dangled between his knees.
They were large and calloused, used to holding a sword or a scythe.
And yet, when he looked at them now, all he could think about was the feel of Jenna’s hair as it had run through those hands and the soft sensation of her skin beneath his fingertips.
And then he knew. Mal was right.
“I love her.”
The words sounded so strange that he couldn’t believe they’d just come from his lips.
And yet, they felt right. He was in love with Jenna MacFinnan.
If he was honest with himself, he’d known this for a long time but had refused to see the truth, refused to acknowledge that something could hold such power over him.
But he couldn’t deny it anymore. Nor did he want to.
As he finally admitted it to himself, he felt his heart swell and a fierce joy unlike anything he’d ever felt before fill his chest. He loved Jenna MacFinnan.
He wanted to climb the ramparts and shout it from the battlements.
And yet.
“She canna know,” he said, turning to Mal. “And ye willnae breathe a word of what I’ve just said to ye.”
Mal blinked, seemingly confused. “I dinna understand. Just tell her how ye feel and marry the lass.”
“She’s a MacFinnan spellweaver, man! As soon as her task here is finished, she’ll be going home, and I’ll likely never seen her again.
” As he said the words, the realization was like a knife twisting in his gut.
How could he face a life without Jenna in it?
How could he be expected to go back to how things were before he met her?
He couldn’t. He just couldn’t. But he must. She was from the twenty-first century, he was from the fifteenth. It could never be.
“Then ask her to stay,” Mal replied. “Put yer own feelings before yer duty for once.”
Oh, he was tempted. He was sorely tempted. An image formed in his mind: Jenna by his side, children at their feet, a land at peace, and his people safe. For an instant he wanted that future so badly he could barely breathe.
Then he shook his head. “I canna do that. How can I ask her to trade everything she has in the future for a life here with me? What can I offer her that would ever live up to what she has in the twenty-first century?”
“Dinna ye think she should be the judge of that?”