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Colum… Oh God. Where was he? With every moment that passed, it was harder to imagine he was alive… A shiver of worry washed over her. Using a cup, she scooped some warm water from the cauldron and drank it. The warmth settled pleasantly in her stomach. As she looked at David over her steaming cup, she thought she saw hurt in his eyes.

But he quickly hid it behind a grim look.

CHAPTER 8

“You should sleep,” David said as he stood up and walked to the mouth of the cave, looking into the darkness. They had eaten and Anna had warmed up, so David let the last fire die, not wanting to attract any more attention than necessary.

The night was quiet. The moon hung low before it hid behind the cave. It must be around 2 or 3 a.m., David estimated. “The sun will rise in a few hours.”

She was in her ankle-length shift, grayish and brown in places. She was so thin, with her cheeks hollowed out and dark circles under her eyes. He clenched his fists at the thought of how little her captors must have fed her, how hungry she must have been all that time. Her long hair was clean now and still wet, and her face, no longer grimy, was beautiful, her skin translucent.

The image of her, naked and wet and shimmering in the moonlight, like a sleek Celtic goddess of the sea, had been burned into his mind forever. Her perfect small, round breasts with nipples that were dark pink and puckered from the cold. The curve of her narrow waist flowing into rounded hips, the shallow belly button on a too-flat stomach.

God, he wanted her. He felt the stirrings of desire even now. At twenty-one, he was still a virgin. Would she laugh at him if he told her?

“I’ll keep watch,” he told her, swallowing hard, then walked to his things and found his bedroll.

She watched him undo the straps and roll out a stag skin for her by the dead campfire, then unroll a thick, wool blanket and hand it to her. The stag had been killed by Angus and the blanket knitted by Rogene for him, their blessing for his journey two years ago. The stag skin kept the wool dry and provided insulation for sleeping on the ground.

Anna took the blanket and murmured a thank you without looking at him. She looked sheepish. Perhaps she was sorry for saying I wilna need ye, anyway.

She sure needed him now. But he didn’t blame her. He had been ogling her when he should have turned away and given her privacy. He just couldn’t stop looking. She must be the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. And telling her he would never be interested was the biggest lie of his life. She had no idea how close he had been to ripping his clothes off and running through the water to her.

Anna wrapped herself in the blanket and lay on the stag skin on her side. She closed her eyes, and he had an odd longing to be that fabric, to wrap himself around her and keep her warm. She tucked one arm under her head and cuddled into the blanket deeper. He sat by her side, facing the mouth of the cave, watching and listening.

He hoped she would get some rest, but she kept rustling, shifting her legs, moving. Then shaking. When she began whimpering and grimacing, as though in pain, he shifted to her. “Anna, are you all right?”

She opened her eyes and looked around. “I canna sleep.”

“You’re safe. I’ll keep you safe. I have my sword right here.”

“’Tis nae the swords and nae men I’m afraid of,” she whispered, “’tis the dark.”

He brought a few more dry branches and kindling, took out his high-carbon fire steel, and struck a sharp edge of chert several times until sparks flew into the kindling. Even though he knew a fire might bring the English to them, he couldn’t stand seeing her like this.

The girl had just been tortured for days. She probably had PTSD. With the fire going, he sat back cross-legged and shifted closer to her. “Do you want to put your head here?” he put his hand on his thigh. She frowned and looked at him dubiously. “You’re not alone,” he said. “I’m with you. I won’t let darkness take you.”

She nodded and cuddled deeper into the blanket. He hated to see her looking defeated and scared.

As she moved closer to him, their hands touched and their eyes met. Her lips were pink and plush, and she had just her undertunic on. How would she taste if he kissed her?

He’d had one girlfriend back in high school—Jessica, a beautiful, popular girl. He’d been a jock. Sports had always been easy for him, and because of his dyslexia he never had good grades. Often, he’d been teased that he wasn’t the smartest, even by some of the teachers.

He’d let them put him in a convenient box: dumb jock. Even Jess thought that. She hadn’t wanted to lose her virginity until she was eighteen, and so they did a lot of oral and hands.

But the Instagram-perfect Jessica paled in comparison to Anna’s raw beauty. Their eyes were still locked, their lips so close, their breaths mixing…

In the next moment, she pulled away.

“Don’t be afraid,” David said. “I won’t touch you.”

“I’m nae afraid. And nae ye wilna touch me. I’ll have a husband soon.”

Right. A husband. Yet another reason for David not to act on his desires. Besides, he didn’t want to fall in love or get someone pregnant in the Middle Ages. Leaving a child fatherless and a woman without support was unthinkable. And sooner or later, he’d find the way back to the future or die trying. He didn’t want to feel any more trapped here.

Anna laid her head on his thigh, the weight of it pleasant on his leg. He felt the warm dampness of her hair through his linen braies. He longed to stroke her head.

“What do you know about him?” he asked. “Your future husband.”