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“I’m sorry,” he says, shaking his head, “but you must listen.”
“I’m listening.”
“You have a destiny. You don’t know it, or don’t recall it,” he says. “You have to realize who you are, your true self.”
“You’re insane,” I say.
He looks at the approaching storm again and this time when he turns back, I would swear the look on his face is one of fear.
“In seven days, the moon will be full,” he says and points off to the west. “Over there, you see that standing stone? Meet me there before the midnight hour.”
“Why should I?”
“I’ll help you find your way,” he says cryptically.
He whirls away, his cloak flying up and across my vision. I raise my arms to protect my face and by the time I blink and drop them he’s gone. I turn a full circle looking for him but there’s not a sign of him. Somewhere, a bird caws. The only sound besides the whistling wind of the approaching storm.
My stomach tightens into a hard knot. I grip the empty basket tight to my chest, turn, and run for the village.
Chapter Fifteen
Who is he? The same question that kept me from sleeping last night still burns this morning.
I thrust the stick into the butter churn with more force than is necessary, using my frustration and low boiling anger to push past the burning sensation in my arms. I stop and wipe the sweat off my forehead with my sleeve. Damn, this is a lot of work. Churning is one of the few tasks Alesoun has put me on that I’ve been successful at. Which isn’t saying much since it’s mostly shoving a stick in and out of a barrel.
“Do nae let it rest. You’ll ruin it,” Alesoun says from inside the house.
“Right,” I sigh, resuming my work.
Down the path from her house, the group of women cast dark glances in my direction. When they laugh, my cheeks warm. I’m sure they're still talking about me. I’m the most popular talking point in the village, after all. I attack the butter churn, pouring my anger into every thrust.
This is all stupid. A grand destiny? Me? Right. I’m not special; I’m lost. I’m out of my time and out of place. I don’t belong here.
What of Duncan? one part of my mind asks the other part.
What about him? comes the snap response. I don’t belong here. Somehow, I have to get back home. Back to my time. And what then? What of this spark of romance, if that’s even what it is? Nothing, that’s what. Big, fat nothing. How can I possibly have a relationship with a man who’s four hundred years before I’ll be born? That’s a freaking bust.
“If ya keep working that churn that hard you’re going to break it,” Duncan says, startling me.
“Ah!” I jump backwards off the low stool.
The butter churn tilts precariously, falling away. Scrambling, I try to grab the handle but miss. Duncan moves so fast it’s almost preternatural. He captures the runaway churn and returns it upright. He smiles and damn it if my heart doesn’t melt. His smile is the sun breaking through the gray clouds of doubt.
“I’m sorry, did nae mean to startle ya,” he says.
The wind tugs at his hair, pulling random strands here and there as if they’re waving with a mind of their own. When I meet his eyes, my mouth goes dry and heart palpitations rattle inside my chest.
I compare him to the dark stranger I met on the moors. Duncan’s icy blue eyes versus the deep brown. Light versus dark.
My God, Quinn, knock it off. I can’t fall for either of these guys!
“Well, you did,” I say, which comes out sharper and harsher than I want. Regret blossoms like a spark catching fire. I open my mouth to apologize but he speaks before I can.
“Ach, your tongue is razor sharp today.”
“My tongue?” I ask, one hand on my hips. “Are you serious?”
He furrows his brow. “I did nae come to argue with ya.”
