Page 35 of Luthias

“I had to stand on the thing to reach the edge of the hallow.” Callen gave her an exasperated look. “The same hallow I didnae fall in by purpose.”

“On purpose,” Emery corrected.

“Never go near that grove again, my lady,” he told her, sounding almost like Luthias now.

That reminded her. “Why do you think I’m a lady?”

“Your skin, ’tis soft and pale. You’ve no calluses or scars.” He reached out and plucked something from her cheek. “You speak as a noble.” He held up the dead leaf he had taken from her face. “Aye, but you’re as reckless as a bairn.”

“You’re not sleeping forever because I’m reckless,” Emery chided, and then glanced at the river. “How are you going to haul water without a bucket?”

“’I’ll fetch another from the camp.” He looked past her. “Someone comes from the castle now. You’re saved from dalliance with me, my lady.”

“It’s just Emery.” Now she heard her name being shouted from a distance, and cringed a little as she realized it was Ameron yelling for her. “I’ve got to go.”

“Come tomorrow if you can,” Callen said. “I’ll be working near the trail. Only to talk, I vow.” He winked. “No kissing or dallying.”

She knew she should have told him no, but when she looked into his eyes she saw that sadness again, and didn’t have the heart to refuse.

“Stay out of trouble.” Emery hurried off, feeling relieved as she saw Ameron and Kyal trotting toward her. She glanced back at Callen, but he had disappeared.

Chapter Ten

Emery hadn’t meant to debate the superiority of the twenty-first century to the fourteenth over the morning meal, but sometimes the MacRoss got a little too full of their medieval selves.

“Leather boots are stink sponges and a pain to clean,” Emery said as she stole a berry from Darach’s plate. “In my time we have much better footwear. Your poor seamstress has to spend all her time hand-sewing the clothes she makes for the clan one at a time, while we manufacture garments in huge factories that turn out thousands of articles each day. And just going to the bathroom is a huge–”

“No more complaining about the privy,” the chieftain said, scowling at her. “You may relish the lovely, san-i-tar-y room of baths you ken when you return to your time, but for now, you’ll use what the clan must.”

“It’s just that decent indoor plumbing should be basic human rights in any time.” She glared at him. “If only I wouldn’t alter history by introducing the MacRoss to the concept of a flush toilet.” She rested her cheek against her fist and saw the look he gave Taveon. “Hey, I can’t help it that I’m from a technologically-advanced era that just happens to be light years ahead of you guys.”

“Human rights––techno––light years––by the Gods, lass, speak in words I ken,” Darach demanded. “I hardly follow half that you sputter.”

“Same,” Emery said, feeling mopey now. “I just found out yesterday about hallows, which make absolutely no sense to me.”

The chieftain frowned. “You found a hallow?”

She thought of how much trouble Callen might get into if she tattled on him, and shook her head. “Someone told me I should stay out of oak groves because of them. Can the fairy dust in them really make you sleep and never wake up again?”

“Fairy dust?” Taveon laughed out loud. “Lass, a hallow, ’tis naught more than an old fox burrow. The females dig them in the cold season to have their pups in spring. The vassals tell tales of the fairies living in them, or making them as traps for mortals, but all that blether, ’tis but superstition.”

Darach pressed his lips together as if he was holding back his mirth before he said, “Who told you such nonsense?”

“I overheard someone talking about them.” She wondered what else Callen had lied about to her. “So there really aren’t fairies skulking around in the woods? I mean, you have an enchanted fairy sword.”

“’Tis a Fae sain,” the chieftain said flatly. “And I reckoned you so learned.”

“Och, dinnae scold her. She doesnae ken...what ’tis what.” The war master looked past her. “Aye, and the lady needs finish her meal now if she’s to go with the laird.”

Emery looked over her shoulder at Luthias, who had an extra tartan over his arm and a bag over his shoulder. He stopped behind her as he greeted the men and asked Taveon to read the day’s messages for him and arrange a meeting with someone named MacAnvoy. He told Darach that a merchant had reported Callum Carack gone from his castle for nearly a week, and someone named Struan was acting as laird. Then he met her gaze and smiled, his handsome face lighting up with visible pleasure.

Pleasure. That’s a big no-no.

“Wow, is the farm visit this morning? I completely lost track of time.” As he nodded she wanted to cower, but instead turned and beamed at the chieftain. “Why don’t you ride along with us, Dar? You can spend the whole day mansplaining everything to me.”

“Aye, so she may wenchsplain it back to him,” Taveon said to the laird.

“As my second the chieftain commands the garrison and the stronghold in my absence,” Luthias told her. “When I leave, he must stay.”