Chapter 11 #2
When she nodded, cheeks pink, and eyes bright, Callan found it difficult to breathe as they stepped onto the dance floor, moving together. The world narrowed down to the two of them, everything else forgotten.
As the music changed, he pulled her close, so close he could see there were dark blue flecks in the lighter blue of her eyes. She looked up at him, lips parted, and just as their lips were about to meet, a loud laugh startled them, making her jump.
Flustered, she stepped back, cheeks flushed. “I... I think I need some air,” she stammered.
Aye, so she felt the same.
Callan simply nodded. “Shall we walk?”
The night air was warm, carrying the distant sounds of laughter and music as they found a quiet spot away from the bustling crowd, a secluded area where the light from the pavilion didn’t quite reach, leaving them in a soft shadow under the stars.
He purchased water for them, water. People paid for water in this time. ’Twas absurd.
“Thank you,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper as she accepted the bottle of water, drinking deeply.
Callan only nodded, his eyes fixed on the ground as he gathered his thoughts. Finally, he looked up, his gaze meeting hers in the dim light.
’Twas time to tell her the truth.
“Daisy?”
She touched his arm. “What’s wrong? You look like you’re about to be sick. Did you get hit on the head in the fight?”
“Nay, lass. My head is hard as a rock, remember?”
He led her over to a wooden bench. They sat, listening to people laughing as the music played on.
“There is much to discuss. Much about me ye do not know.”
Her touch burned through the sleeve of his shirt.
“Your memories came back?” Her eyes shone. “That’s great news. Tell me everything.”
With a deep breath, he told her his tale.
“I did not lose my memories.” He told her how he’d been treated when he arrived in this time and tried to tell the truth, so when he met her, he did not wish her to think his wits addled.
“… I found myself somewhere out of time.” He paused, watching her reaction.
Daisy blinked, unsure if she’d heard him correctly. “Out of time? What do you mean?”
Taking a deep breath, Callan lowered his voice.
“I am not of this time. I am from the year 1311. And I lived in the Scottish Highlands until … until I found out I had a half brother. A bloody Englishman named William, Lord Blackford.” He told her of aiding William’s wife, Lucy, as they escaped Agnes, of the mercenaries, and of the great storm on Samhain.
“… so ye see, I must return to my own time. To my brother. He offered me a place at Blackford, a home. Family.”
The silence that followed was heavy, filled with Daisy’s rapid breathing, the distant sounds of a lute carried from somewhere far off. She looked up at him, searching his face for any sign of jest.
“You’re serious,” she stated. It wasn’t a question.
“Aye, lass,” Callan confirmed, his expression grave.
He watched her face, tense, wondering if she would run from him.
When she touched his arm, her hand was trembling.
“So, all this time, the way you talk, the way you act—it’s because you’re actually from the past?”
“Aye,” Callan said, his Scottish accent more pronounced with his confession. “I ken it’s hard to believe. I scarcely believe it myself, but I was on the battlements at Blackford, then the storm came and when I woke, I was in an alley here in Boston, my blades and St. Christopher medal gone.”
Daisy laughed, a short, disbelieving sound.
“It’s not just hard, Callan. It’s … it’s unbelievable.
But somehow, looking at you now, hearing you say it—” She paused.
“In a crazy way, it explains a lot.” She held up a hand.
“I’m not saying I believe you, because if time travel is real, wouldn’t we have heard about it?
It would be all over the news, no matter how the government tried to hide it.
But I do think there’s something more to your story than amnesia. ”
He took her hand in his. “’Tis more than I hoped. Will ye forgive me for not telling ye sooner?”
“Everyone has things they keep to themselves.” A shaky laugh escaped as he put a hand on her back to steady this fierce woman.
“This is a doozy, but still. I can see why you’d worry about telling me. It does make you sound a little unhinged.”
Their eyes locked, and for a long moment, the world seemed to pause around them—the noise of the Faire fading into a distant background.
Just as Callan leaned in, a loud crash from the pavilion shattered the moment. Daisy jumped up, startled, as the sounds of people calling out and laughing broke them apart.
Callan sighed, a rueful smile playing on his lips. “I suppose the timing wasn’t quite right.”
His lass was breathing heavily as he extended his arm, an unspoken offer to return to the lights and noise of the Faire. “Shall we?”
Daisy nodded, slipping her arm through his. “Let’s go back. I need to pick up Frankie. He was playing with a lab he knows from the dog park.” She turned to him. “I need some time to process what you told me. Then we’ll talk about this. All of it.”
They had almost kissed. Twice. Daisy pressed her hands to her cheeks, hoping they weren’t as flushed as they felt.
For the first time in her life, she was trying to take things slowly, not to cling, and to get to know Callan before falling head over heels. Though to be honest, she knew she’d fallen for him that first day in the park, when she hit him in the head with her frisbee.
Tonight changed everything, and she knew that whatever came next, it wouldn’t be simple. But as she glanced at Callan, she felt a spark of hope. Maybe, just maybe, the best stories really did start with the most unbelievable beginnings.
No one had ever offered his arm to her, like some kind of old-fashioned movie star, but Callan did. The guy opened doors for her, tucked her hand in the crook of his arm when they were walking around, and always asked after her needs.
Now that he had his own money, he insisted on paying when they were together, so of course, she texted Zara and let her friend know.
While Callan was still staying with her rent-free, Daisy decided that didn’t count, and she really liked having him around so they could spend all their time together.
Music carried through the air as they walked, arm in arm, making their way through the crowds back towards the heart of the Faire.
The atmosphere was joyous, with attendees dressed in period costumes, laughing, dancing, and partaking in the merriment.
The scent of roasted meats and kettle corn filled the air, blending with the smoky tang of firewood.
A time traveler.
She glanced at him as he spoke to a guy he’d been helping perfect his swordplay. It was an outrageous story, and yet…
Red flags should have landed all around her, yet Daisy yearned to believe him.
The thought of traveling through time was exciting.
But seriously? Time travel wasn’t real, heroes didn’t exist, and the bad guys were just as likely to win the day, no matter that the science fiction and romance books proclaimed otherwise. Fiction wasn’t real life.
They approached a bustling tavern set up in the center of the Faire, where patrons gathered around wooden tables, their voices loud and cheerful though Callan was tense. She felt it in the muscles of his arm as they’d walked together.
Sensing his mood, she squeezed his arm reassuringly.
“You know,” she began, her tone light, “I never imagined I’d be at a Faire with a real medieval Scotsman.”
He turned to her, hope in his eyes. “Do ye believe me then, lass?”
No way was she lying to him, but careful not to hurt his feelings, she said gently, “I’m not sure. It’s such a fantastical story that I feel like it has to be true.”
She bit her lip, frowning. “But no one has time-traveled, and if it had been discovered, it would be all over the news.”
Then she added to herself, “think of all the damage someone could do with that kind of power.” She leaned against him. “Will you tell me more about your time? How it felt to travel through time?”
He nodded, but at that moment, a boisterous group at a nearby table erupted into a raucous cheer, toasting with large tankards of mead, breaking the tension.
One overly enthusiastic patron, caught up in the excitement, gestured wildly, not noticing as he backed into a server carrying a tray of drinks.
In an instant, the tray tilted, sending a cascade of mead splashing over Daisy and Callan. Daisy gasped as the cold liquid soaked through her clothes, dripping from her hair and down her face. Callan stood drenched, the mead soaking his linen shirt and kilt.
Frankie, who had been sniffing noses with another dog, barked excitedly at the sudden commotion.
The server, mortified, apologized profusely while the inebriated guy stammered out apologies. The smell was atrocious, making Daisy laugh as she wiped her face. A moment later, Callan joined in, his deep laugh mingling with hers.
The guy apologized to everyone and offered to buy the next round on him. Daisy and Callan accepted the drinks, toasting with the crowd.