“Long in the tooth”? She’d seen that phrase before, in the historical books she loved to read. He was calling her old! Again she clenched her teeth together. She was actually sorry she’d bothered to apologize for slugging him. In fact, if given the chance right now, she’d kind of like to punch him again.
“Dinna fash yerself over it. We’ll find some use for you.”
No “probably” to it. Definitely. Her fist actually ached just thinking about it.
Their conversation ended, they rode for some time in silence while Dani fumed.
“It’s true, then, you come from seven hundred years in the future?”
After such a long silence, the question seemed to wing in out of left field. “Yes.” Freaking-scary true.
“In that case, perhaps we could take advantage of yer knowledge to aid my people. You can tell me if we need to prepare for the English to invade again, or if Edward will be satisfied with having his man sit on our throne.”
It took a minute for Dani to realize what he was asking. He wanted the history of his country. At least, what to her would be history. To him it would be foreknowledge.
And that, somehow, didn’t feel right. Her aunt Jean had always cautioned about people who knew just enough to get them in trouble. This seemed like a perfect moment for that adage. The idea that she might be responsible for somehow changing what was to come rattled her.
Fortunately, at least to her way of thinking, she didn’t know all that much.
“Who’s your king right now?”
“John Balliol sits on the throne of Scotland.”
Not ringing any bells. Good. She could be honest in her response.
“I’m guessing you’re in for more changes.” Everything she’d ever read certainly pointed to it. “But, in fairness, pretty much all I know about the history of Scotland I learned off the trivia notes printed on the napkins in the diner where I worked.” She’d actually learned a lot of useless information off those napkins.
“What are these napkins of which you speak?” He’d reined in his horse, once again waiting for her to catch up, a spark of curiosity in his expression.
“They’re paper things that people use to wipe their hands and mouths on when they eat.”
“Paper . . .” He repeated the word, his brows drawn together in confusion. “And this paper is . . . ?”
“Paper.” Dani struggled to find a good explanation. “Like what you write on, or like they print books on. You know, paper.”
“Parchment, you mean?”
“Like parchment, I guess,” she agreed. Unbelievable. She was so far out of time, they didn’t even have paper, for crying out loud.
“This I find hard to believe. Parchment is too costly for wiping one’s face and hands.” He shook his head from side to side, in obvious rejection of her information as he set off again ahead of her. “How careless the people of your time must be to waste in such a manner.”
She couldn’t help but smile at Malcolm’s back. If he thought using napkins to clean your hands and face was wasteful, she couldn’t help but wonder what he would think of toilet paper.
Fourteen
THE SUN, BLESSEDLYwarm on this day, hung high in the sky by the time Malcolm reined in his horse to wait for Dani to reach his side. One look at his face told her something was wrong.
“What is it?”
“Riders approach.” He pointed ahead of them. “You’ll stay behind me, aye? And if there’s trouble, you’ll break for the trees and follow a straight line toward the setting sun, riding as hard as you can. You’re no to turn back or slow for anything.”
She stared into the distance, squinting to make out the tiny figures.
“You expect trouble? There’s only two of them. Maybe I could help.”
She wasn’t completely worthless if it came down to it. All she’d need was a weapon of some sort—a branch, a rock. Surely there was something on the ground she could find.
“You’ll stay behind me, Danielle. Out of harm’s way. The course I’ve set will lead you straight to the gates of Castle MacGahan if need be. I’ll no brook yer arguments on this point.”
