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“Aye. All right.”
He doesn’t say more but I feel his hurt. He scratches his head and looks around before returning his gaze to mine. We stare at each other at an uncomfortable impasse. It continues until we’re interrupted by the flutter of wings and we both look at the sound.
A raven caws as it passes over. Duncan makes the sign of the cross and mutters something under his breath. I watch the bird pass over and have to wonder if it really is following me.
“I need to get back,” I say, pushing down my desire and the regret that blossoms as I say it.
“Are ya sure? You do nae have to.”
His voice is a mix of sincerity and remorse. Every fiber of my being wants to say I’ll stay. I want to spend time with him and explore these feelings. Maybe somehow understand this weird sense of knowing him better than I can possibly know anyone. Every fiber except the small voice of rationality. The voice of my heart that could never play someone, drag them along when I know there’s no possibility of a future. That’s not right and it’s not me.
“Yeah,” I say at last.
The word comes out in a huff, forced out as I make the only decision I can. I have to be true to myself. The crestfallen look on his face is as clear as a hurt puppy. As honest and blunt as he is in life, he’d be a terrible poker player. His emotions are all over his face. His handsome, strong jawed, wide-mouthed, hooked nose face.
God, I want to kiss him. To taste his lips. Touch that rough stubble on his cheeks. I want to but I won’t. If this hurts him, imagine what it would be like for him when I return to my own time where I belong.
“All right,” he says, not meeting my eyes.
He offers his hand and leads the way back to the village. We walk in a silence that is no longer comfortable. Though we’re still holding hands, we’re isolated in our own thoughts, wrapped in our pain. And pain it is. It hurts so much I want to cry but I can’t let myself appear weak or irresolute.
An impossible situation. An impossible girl. What is this? Some Doctor Who episode?
When the village comes into sight, Duncan stops and lets go of my hand.
“I’ve got some work to tend to,” he says. “Ya can make it the rest of the way?”
“Yeah,” I say.
He opens his mouth as if he’s going to say something but then he snaps it shut, turns, and strides off without a word. I stand on the path watching him leave and ring my hands in the cloth of my long skirt. The ache in my chest throbs in time with each beat of my heart. When he disappears around a corner, I force myself to turn and walk toward the village.
I hold myself together for at least four strides before the dam breaks. Tears stream down my face and the ache in my chest is so painful I’d fear it was a heart attack if I didn’t know better. I stumble my way down the path to Alesoun’s house, barely able to see past my bleary eyes.
“Witch!” a tiny voice yells as something pelts me in the arm.
“What?” I exclaim in pain and surprise, wiping at my eyes.
“Witch!” The one tiny voice is joined by a chorus of others.
Something hits me in the face with a splat. The smell of it turns my stomach. I raise my arms to protect my head. Something else hits me in the leg.
“Ow!”
Four young boys come up running circles around me. Something hits me in the back. Another of the boys throws a small rock that hits my arm. They are fast, staying out of reach as they chant and run their circle.
“Witch. Witch. Witch.”
“Hey, stop,” I yell.
Something else splats against my chest. I look down to see a nasty cow pie sliding down my chest. I break into a run, trying to get away, get to Alesoun, to shelter.
“Witch. Witch. Witch. Witch.”
They give chase like a feral animal sensing fear and weakness. They pause only to grab small rocks and toss them before resuming the chase. I’m almost to the house when something hits me in the back of my head. I stumble forward and the world flashes to black.
“Aye!” an older, male voice yells.
“Back off now, ya hear?” Alesoun asks.
