The Highlander's Touch
Page 25

“And the wind could have snatched you off at any moment. While it may only be a dozen feet from window to window, it is a fifty-foot fall to the ground. Even my men wouldn’t do something so stupid.”
“It wasn’t stupid,” she repeated evenly. “It was an intelligent exercise of my skills. Where I come from I’ve done it before, and besides, I had no way of knowing whether you planned to feed me today or talk to me or listen to the fact that I desperately need to get back home. And while we’re on the subject of idiocy—is lunging at each other with sharp swords any less stupid? I saw what you were doing down there.”
“We train,” he said, lowering his voice with obvious effort. “We prepare for war.” If the man clenched his teeth any harder, his jaw would lock, she decided.
“And war is a particularly intelligent venture, is it not? I’m merely battling for my rights and trying to return home. I have a life, you know. I have responsibilities at home.”
He opened his mouth, then snapped it shut and regarded her for a moment. “What exactly are those responsibilities?” he asked finally, very softly.
Very softly from this man made her nervous, as did his hands on her waist, as did his moving so near that his breath fanned her face as she stared up at him. She felt suddenly cowed. Damn the man for having such an impact. She was not going to cry her heart out to this wall of warrior.
She took a deep breath and willed herself to calm down. “I know this is not the best situation for you but it’s not for me either. How would you feel if you were suddenly yanked from your time, thrown somewhere else, and held captive? Wouldn’t you do everything in your power to get your life back? To return to your homeland and win your battle for freedom?”
His jaw relaxed as he pondered her words. “You behave like a warrior,” he said grudgingly. “Aye, I would do everything in my power to return.”
“Then you can’t blame me for trying. Or for being here, or for complicating your life. I’m the one whose life has been messed up. At least you still understand where you are. You still have your friends and family. You still have security. All I know is that I must get back home.”
He was quiet for what seemed an interminable time, looking into her eyes. She could feel tension emanating from his body as he studied her, and she realized that this fourteenth-century warrior was struggling as hard as she was to figure out what to do next.
“You frightened me, lass. I thought you would fall. Doona climb my walls again, eh? I will find a way to give you some small freedom within the keep. I trust you were not trying to escape the keep itself; you are obviously intelligent enough to see you have no place to go. But doona climb my walls,” he repeated. Then he rubbed his jaw, looking suddenly weary. “I am unable to send you back home, lass, I told you the truth about that last night. There’s something else you should know as well. The conversation you overheard before you attacked me last night was correct: I did swear an oath to kill whoever arrived with my flask.”
Lisa swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. He had come to kill her last night. Would he have slipped in stealthily and slit her throat if she hadn’t been awake and ambushed him first?
He looked directly into her eyes. “But I have made the decision to temporarily refrain from fulfilling my oath. That is not an easy thing for a warrior to do. We hold our vows sacred.”
“Oh, how gracious of you,” she said dryly. “So you don’t plan to kill me today, but you might just decide to tomorrow. Am I supposed to find that reassuring?”
“There are valid reasons why I swore my oath. And aye, you should be grateful that I am letting you live for the now.”
She would take what she could get. It wasn’t as if she had much to bargain with. “What possible threat could I be to you? Why would you swear an oath to kill a person you didn’t even know?” But even as she asked, she knew the answer to her question—whatever was in the flask was immensely valuable. Perhaps it was a tool to travel through time; that would certainly explain why people were casting curses upon it and willing to kill for it. Hadn’t he snatched it from her the moment she’d arrived?
“My reasons doona concern you.”
“I think they do concern me, when your reasons determine whether I live or die.” She knew that oaths were sacred to knights of yore. He had nothing to lose by killing her. She was a woman lost in time; no one would miss her. Keeping her alive created a liability for him, and what would prevent him from suddenly changing his mind and honoring his vow? She would not be able to stand living day to day, always wondering if this would be the day he killed her. She needed to gain insight into how this warrior thought so that she could plan a defense. “Why did you decide to break your oath?”