* * *
I laughed at the coincidence, not because I disbelieved her. After tumbling backwards through time and living with a witch for over a year, nothing should have surprised me.
I realized too late that my reaction angered Morna. With one quick flick of her wrist, the bonny lass extinguished the candles around the room, though it did little to darken the space around us. The sun was now up and shining through the small window behind her.
“Lass.” I stood and reached for her, grabbing both hands. I lowered my head so she would look into my eyes. “I believe ye. I dinna laugh because I thought ye were lying. I laughed because sometimes I canna believe the oddity of my life. Now, please, finish what ye started here on my face. I must look a frightful mess.”
She watched me carefully and eventually pulled away to move to the washbowl and blade. I resumed my seated position and awaited her touch. Her hands were gentle across my skin, and it took everything in me not to tremble at the light touch of her fingers.
“I canna see how ye thought it funny.”
I waited until she finished one long stroke down my cheek, then spoke.
“Aye, well, if ye’d lived the past year of my life, perhaps ye would see the humor in it—dark though it may be. Can ye do more with yer magic than extinguish fire? I’m in need of great help.”
I meant the question as a joke. If Grier had mentored her, the lass surely had great power, but as I watched her teeth clench, I fell silent.
“I…sometimes I can sense things that others cannot.”
Astonishment in my voice, I twisted to look up at her as I spoke. “Is that all? Surely, it canna be.”
Her next pull of the blade across my skin held more pressure than those before it. I could feel her anger in the way she held my chin.
“Did ye not hear me tell ye that my father sent Grier away from here? He doesna approve of magic. I’ve had no training in the use of my powers since I was twelve.”
Shaking my head as she cleaned the blade, I reached to feel the bare half of my face. I’d not shaved since before my tumble through time.
“I doona think I care for yer father. He’s allowed ye to become entirely useless.”
The blade dropped against the table with a loud clank before I realized the stupidity of my words. They were thoughtless and selfish and below me. No matter how desperate I was to return home, it was unforgivable for me to behave as if anyone owed me help.
I turned toward Morna slowly, expecting to see tears fill her eyes, or at the very least for her to rear back in shock. Instead, I watched as a brief flicker of pain crossed over her eyes—pain she quickly masked with the expertise of someone well practiced at being on the receiving end of an insult. It made me dislike her father even more. My hateful words weren’t the first time this lass had been made to feel useless. I couldn’t remember ever feeling so despicable.
Recovering quickly, she picked up the blade. While her voice was softer, she kept it steady.
“Aye, I know. Turn yer chair around so I may reach the other side of yer face.”
Unsure how to apologize without making matters worse, I silently stood and did as she asked. We remained silent for what seemed like ages as she worked on my face. Finally, as she pulled the blade across one last time, I spoke.
“I doona think ye are useless, Morna. I’m just a frustrated fool who has been away from home for far too long. I verra much wish for us to be friends. Forgive me.”
She stood behind me and said nothing as she reached around to brush the last bits of hair from my face.
The smile back in her voice, she patted my shoulders as she urged me to stand.
“There is nothing to forgive. Every word ye said was true. Now stand and introduce yerself to me. Ye no longer resemble the man I met yesterday.”
Brushing hair from my kilt, I stood and faced her. Her mouth fell open, and she paled.
“Do I look that bad, lass?”
While I knew I must look different, her response seemed strange. More than shock appeared in her expression. She looked deeply shaken.
Afraid she might fall, I reached forward and grabbed her hands to steady her. She pulled away immediately and backed to the other side of the room.
“Why is it that ye are always reaching for my hands? Ye are more familiar with yer touch than ye have a right to be.”
Smiling inwardly at her blush, my pulse quickened. She didn’t mind my touch, and the realization bothered her. While the lass was still very much a stranger, the complexity of her character intrigued me.
