“Have ye, lass? Did ye no just hear what I said to ye? I’ll have ye and ye alone.”
We fell into each other then, our lips meeting with a sort of elation that comes with knowing your feelings are matched with the one you love.
He undressed me slowly, marveling at my bra as he took in the lacy, blue material.
“Ach, lass! I dinna think it possible for a lass’s breast to look so wonderful, while covered. Is it expected that ye wear such material in yer time?”
“Yes, but for goodness sakes, just get it off of me now.”
“As ye wish, love.”
And as he took me in his arms, we rocked our bodies together against the stones in a motion that mimicked the crashing of the water against the sand, expressing our love for one another through the night.
Chapter 34
Arran squatted behind the first building on the edge of the village, peering around the corner as he watched the runaway wait for someone to join him outside the ale house. The lad reached into a small bag he carried around his shoulder and removed an item which he’d wrapped in a cloth.
Arran knew he’d been right to follow him. The lad had been given no chance to acquire anything for trade, unless he’d stolen it from Kip or some other area of the castle.
Only a few moments passed before a man Arran had never seen before walked out of the ale house and extended a hand in the runaway’s direction. He watched as they spoke quietly for a few moments, ending their conversation when the runaway patted the stranger and handed the unknown item over to him.
Arran couldn’t make sense of the strange transaction, but he knew he’d just witnessed the runaway betray them.
As he watched the runaway turn to head back toward the castle, Arran pulled his head back around the corner, out of sight from anyone walking by. He waited until the lad moved past him, then quickly ran up behind him, ramming his fist over the back of the runaway’s head. Arran caught the man around the middle, shrugging his unconscious body over his shoulder.
He’d take the betrayer to the dungeon, and he’d get the truth out of the lying bastard by whatever means necessary.
*
I moved about the spell room, putting away books and materials for what I hoped would be the last time. With my mind made up that I would be staying, and now knowing the location of the ring, I saw no reason to leave the room in such a state of dishevelment.
With each lift of a book, I was reminded of my activities the night before. I knew my back was covered in bruises from being pounded against the rocky surface of the cave, and every muscle in my body was sore from our nightly acrobatics. I’d never been so happy to be so uncomfortable.
As I continued to shuffle books around the room, I realized that the real reason I seemed so preoccupied with re-organizing the space is that I was doing my very best to put off the inevitable. I had to write to Mom and let her know I wasn’t coming home.
I was completely confident in my decision. Regardless of the unusual circumstances that had brought me into this time, it had landed me exactly where I was supposed to be. That being said, it didn’t make it any easier for me to go about saying goodbye to my mother for what was most assuredly forever.
The thought brought forth a familiar lump inside my throat. The same lump that had lodged itself into place when I’d attended my father’s funeral, the same lump that I’d been forced to choke down after laying eyes on Donal MacChristy.
I knew my mother wasn’t dying. She would undoubtedly go on to live a happy life, endlessly dating men either too young or too old for her, and traveling the world on whatever dig caught her fancy. But she’d not only been my mother but my very best friend for my entire life. And while I knew she would understand, I also knew it would hurt her to know that I’d chosen not to return to be her partner in crime.
Once I’d rearranged every book in the room at least twice, I knew it was time to sit down and just get it over with.
I tore a blank piece of parchment from one of Morna’s old journals and practiced what I would say to her.
Twenty-five drafts later, I knew that the truth was that it didn’t matter what I wrote. It was going to hurt her regardless. It was best that I keep it simple and only touch on the most important things: that I was safe, that I was happy, and that I hoped she would understand.
In the end, I wrote only four sentences, ensuring that I left room in case she wanted to write a reply.
“I don’t want you ever to doubt how much I love you, Mom, but I found it. That love you talked to me about at the inn? He’s here, and I have to stay with him. I’m safe and happy, and I know that’s all you’ve ever wanted for me.”