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“Right. Now you’re asking my name. After you dragged me across the sea.”
“Aye. Now I’m asking. What is yer name?”
She didn’t answer at first, and he thought she wouldn’t at all. Then she sighed, laid the cutting knife on the table, and said, “Dr. Jennifer Foster.”
Jennifer… A beautiful name he’d never even heard in his life. It reminded him of the name Guinevere, the legendary King Arthur’s wife. So, mayhap it was how they said it in England… But there was something else that surprised him even more about her answer.
He frowned. “Doctor? What does that mean?”
“You don’t know what ‘doctor’ means?” She raised her eyebrows. “Really?”
“Really.”
“Sure. And I thought I was supposed to be the one lying.”
She was mocking him. He liked good banter with a female who knew her own mind, but he was starting to lose his patience.
He looked around. Warriors threw curious glances at them. The murmur in the great hall became quieter. Laoghaire stared at her with clear mistrust. This woman was bringing a lot of hubbub into the clan. He needed to be careful.
“Ye have two choices, lass,” he said. “One, ye answer my questions truthfully. I will ken if ye lie to me. Then ye may eat with me. Two, ye keep on yer game of screaming, lying, and talking nonsense. In that case, ye go to the dungeon, and I lock ye up. Do ye understand?”
Oh, she hated him with her eyes then. The brown honey turned almost black. Slowly, she nodded.
“So, who are ye, Jennifer Foster, and what were ye doing on Achleith?”
“I got lost.”
“Ye got lost. How do ye get lost on an island with nae other soul in sight?”
She looked at her feet and wrung her hands. He could see she was carefully choosing what to say.
“It’s complicated.”
“Where do ye come from? Ye speak Gaelic just fine, but I canna place yer accent.”
“New York.”
He leaned forward, attempting to catch her expression. “York? So ye admit ye’re English.”
She frowned and shook her head. “I’m American, not English.”
She was talking more nonsense. “What is American?”
“That is a good question! I’ve asked it myself my whole life. What does it mean to be an American? Well…” She put her hand in a fist and stuck out her index finger. “Freedom, for one. The right to have a voice, I guess, would be the second.” She stuck out the next finger. “So, I guess you just really, um…restricted both things that mean that I’m American, which I really don’t appreciate. People don’t do that, you know. Normally, people use words, not force. Normal people. Well… Most people I know, that is. So… There are a lot of things that I wonder at this moment. Why did you need to tie me and gag me? What do you want with me? Where am I? And who actually are you? Et cetera.”
Amused, he kept listening to her rambling, which brought an odd lightness to his chest. The sense of curiosity didn’t die down. On the contrary, the more she talked, the more he longed to know.
She raised her eyebrows. “Please start answering.”
When he kept silent, she cleared her throat. “An answer to aaany of my previous questions will do. I have many more. Just start.”
The corners of his lips crawled up in a smile that he fought to suppress. In only a short time, she’d managed to make him smile twice. He didn’t remember the last time he’d had a good laugh.
“As ye already guessed, I’m Aulay of Islay, chief of clan MacDonald. I tied and gagged ye because I didna ken if ye were a foe. If ye’re English, ye ken why I was there and what I was searching for. If ye’re nae English, then the reason shouldna matter to ye.”
She made a satisfied facial expression with her mouth curved downward and her eyebrows raised. “Great start, Aulay. Now why are you keeping me here? Why don’t you let me go?”
“Because ye may be a danger to my clan. And ye may ken something I need.”
