The Highlander's Touch

Page 35

“Thank you,” Lisa exclaimed. “You’re the only person who has given any thought to how I must feel.”
“I always consider how a woman feels,” he replied smoothly.
Lisa had no doubt of that, but she sensed that entering a flirtatious conversation with Duncan Douglas might be a street with no U-turns permitted. So she guided the conversation back to Circenn. “He would realize I’m an innocent victim if he ever stopped growling at me and stomping about. All I want is to return home. I didn’t choose to come here. I need to be back home.”
“Why? Have you a lover there for whom your heart pines?”
“Hardly. But I have responsibilities—”
“Och!” Duncan interrupted, waving a hand. “Doona say that word to me. I loathe that word, I detest that word. It is a foul-tasting word.”
“And a very important word,” Lisa said. “There are things that I must take care of back in my time. Duncan, you must persuade him to send me back.”
“Lass, Circenn cannot send you back. He cannot sift time. He may have some unusual qualities, but sending people through time is not counted among them.”
“Would the flask send me back?” she asked quickly, studying Duncan carefully for his reaction. The man’s face grew as shuttered as Circenn’s had when she’d mentioned it to him.
“Nay,” he said succinctly. “And I would not recommend bringing that up to Circenn. He is damned prickly about that flask and you will only succeed in inciting his suspicions should you inquire after it. A large part of what proclaims your innocence to him is that you relinquished it so easily.”
Lisa sighed inwardly. Great; so when she went searching for it, if she was caught it would only make her look guilty. “You know of no way I can return home?” she pressed.
Duncan eyed her curiously. “Why do wish to go back so badly? Is it so distasteful here? When I saw you gazing out the window earlier, you were watching the sea with an expression of pleasure. It seemed you found this country beautiful. Was I wrong?”
“No, I mean nay, you weren’t wrong, but that’s not the point.”
“If you will not tell me what it is you are so desperate to return to, I am afraid I cannot feel much sympathy for you,” Duncan said.
Lisa expelled a breath and glanced away. She might cry if she started talking about Catherine. “Someone who loves me very much needs me right now, Duncan. I can’t fail her.”
“Her,” he repeated, seeming pleased. “Who?”
Lisa glared at him. “Isn’t that enough? Someone is depending on me. I can’t let her down!”
Duncan studied her, measuring her. Finally he spread his hands in the air. “It grieves me, lass, but I cannot help you. I know of no way for you to return to your time. I suggest you confide whatever your plight is in Circenn—”
“But you said he couldn’t return me,” Lisa said quickly.
“Nay, but he is a fine listener.”
“Ha! A turnip would listen better,” she said and rolled her eyes.
“Judge not the man you see on the surface, lass. There are depths and there are depths to Circenn Brodie. Think you he will kill you?”
Lisa saw in his dark eyes the assurance that Circenn Brodie would not. “He can’t bring himself to do it, can he?”
“What do you think?”
“I think he abhors the thought of it. Although he stomps and glowers, I think he’s more angry at himself than me most of the time.”
“Clever lass,” Duncan said. “He is indeed angry because he’s torn between oaths. I doona believe he truly thinks you are a spy, or guilty of something. If anything, he’s angry at himself for swearing the oath in the first place. Circenn has never broken his word before, and it does not sit well with him. It will take him time to accept what he perceives as a failure. Once he does so, he will not hold any oath above your life, consequences be damned.”
“Well, that’s a relief,” Lisa said. It occurred to her that perhaps Circenn and his friend were merely playing “good cop, bad cop” but she didn’t think so. She regarded Duncan curiously. “Don’t you have questions about what my time is like? I would if I were you.”
Duncan’s expression turned serious. “I am a man who is content with his lot in life, lass. I have no wish to know the future, no desire to meddle. A small slice of a small life is good enough for me. Such things are best left alone. The less I know about your time, the more we can work to help you adapt to my time. Speaking of your century would only keep it alive for you, and, lass, since I know of no way to return you, I would advise against clinging to any memories.”