He nodded slowly and slid his own knife back into its sheath. “Aye. All right, then. I understand.”
My shoulders slumped in relief. “Great. So I’ll just concentrate on—”
He moved on me so fast, I stumbled back and fell flat on my butt. He danced away, smirking.
“Oh, that’s just great,” I groused as cold thick mud soaked through layers of material.
He held out a hand to help me up. I ignored it. “I got it.”
I jerked to my feet, then bent over to kick up the knife. Before I could blink, Collum slapped it to the ground and crushed my hand in his iron fist. The pain sent me to my knees.
“Going to quote at me from your wee books, now?” he said. “Terrify me with a nice factoid?”
“Collum.” Irritation warred with a growing alarm as he squeezed harder. “Let go of me.”
“I thought you didn’t need any help.”
I twisted and squirmed, scratching at his arm. But his biceps felt as hard as the wood of Doug’s oak staff.
Collum shrugged, taunting in a voice I didn’t like at all. “Aw, poor wee lass has lost her knife. Course, you say you can’t stab anyone anyway. So it wouldn’t have done you much good. Guess that means you’re helpless, then.”
“All right, all right. I get it,” I said. “I’ll practice with the freaking knife.”
He let go so abruptly, I nearly toppled sideways. “Good. Now—”
As if my hand belonged to someone else, I whipped his own dagger from his belt and cracked him on the side of the head with the wooden hilt.
Collum staggered back, stunned. My nerveless hand dropped the knife to the ground.
Oh crap.
He gaped at me as he reached up to rub at his temple. One side of his mouth twitched. Then, as I stared in complete and utter shock, Collum threw his tawny head back and roared with laughter.
When Collum MacPherson laughed, he did it with his entire body. Heaving and bellowing, he held his sides and just let go. Like his sister’s, Collum’s laugh drew you in, and soon the two of us were leaning on each other, wheezing and gasping for air.
“That’s my girl,” he managed when he could finally speak. “Now, that’s what I wanted to see. Looks like there’s some spirit behind that wally, whinging facade o’ yours after all.”
Before I could decipher his words and decide whether I was insulted or oddly pleased, he clapped me on the back with such enthusiasm, I stumbled forward.
“Good show, Hope.” He nodded, still chuckling. “Good show. Now pick that up and let’s go again.”
Chapter 14
“THEY SAY THE HIGHLAND EAGLE MATES FOR LIFE.”
After days of being trapped by weather, and enduring every kind of time travel lesson imaginable, I’d finally gotten a chance to sneak away. When I arrived at the river to find Bran Cameron waiting for me, I’d tried to play it cool, hide my excitement. But with my cheeks still hot from two hours of stabbing practice and the breathless flight on Ethel’s back, I doubted he bought it.
After a long, twisting ride up a mountain path, we’d tied the horses and made our way to the edge of a great drop-off. Legs dangling, we stared out at the green and purple valley that sprawled out before us. In the distance, a lone mountain rose up above Christopher Manor, dwarfing the huge house. I stared, suppressing a shiver as I thought of what lay at its stone heart.
The wind gusted through the valley, driving the pair of enormous eagles higher as they rode the currents, performing an intricate dance.
“They’re beautiful,” I said, turning to Bran. “I’ve never seen eagles before.”
A pulse of quicksilver hit when his gaze dropped to my mouth.
“Yes,” he said. “They bond right out of the nest, you know. And stay by each other’s side until one of them dies. The other usually succumbs soon after. Grief, they say.”
I thought of my dad and how much . . . smaller he’d seemed without my mom. He’d withdrawn from everything. Especially me. At least until Stella came along.
Staring at the birds, anger began to bubble inside me.
“But how could they just give up like that?” I shifted, rocks digging into my thighs. “What if the eagles have babies? They just let them die? I mean, sure it’s tragic, but kind of selfish, too.”
“I agree. Just because they can’t be with the one they love, they wither away and die? Seems like cowardice to me. Sometimes one has to muddle through, even if one isn’t happy. Isn’t that what life really is? Simple perseverance?”
I shrugged. “Yeah. No matter how bad it gets, you just keep plodding along. Maybe you’re numb, but I mean . . . what else can you do?”
“Well”—Bran cleared his throat—“this is titillating conversation. Dead birds. A numb existence. What else can I bring up to liven the moment? Starving children? Crippled puppies?” He tilted his head, examining me through long lashes. “You know, I’d almost given up on you.”
“Chores,” I squeaked. “My aunt . . . She has lots of chores for me.”