Time and Space Between Us

by Knightley, Diana

  “Nae!” Magnus’s voice was grim and loud and terrible and close. “Cousin, I will cut ye, ear to ear if ye touch her.” Magnus had his knife at the man’s throat, as the man convulsed and lifted off my body. The forearm that had been stealing my breath pulled away from my throat, the hips that had been crushing me pulled away from my pelvis. Then the monster withdrew from between my legs last of all.

  I clutched the cloak around my body, as my Magnus stood holding the man by a clutch of hair. Roaring in Gaelic, he brought his knee up hard into the man’s stomach, doubling him over. He slammed a knee up squarely into his nose, probably breaking it, and then Magnus was everywhere fists and knees, punching, swinging, pummeling the man, beating him senseless with his bare hands.

  The older woman from the kitchen stood in the doorway wringing her hands. She yelled loudly in Gaelic.

  Magnus turned on her, “I asked ye tae watch over the lady.”

  She spoke in English, “I dinna hear him approach, but thee canna kill him, Master Magnus. Tis too much trouble for thee.”

  Magnus stopped cold, glaring into the pummeled face of the man, bloodied and mangled. He bellowed, “That is my wife.”

  He climbed to his feet and grabbing the man by his hair dragged him to his knees. “Beg her forgiveness.” Magnus’s voice was terrible, cold and scary.

  The man spoke quietly in words I didn't understand.

  Magnus shook him by the hair roots. “Beg for it, in English!”

  “My apologies, Madame.”

  “Madame Campbell, dost ye want me tae spare his life?”

  I nodded quickly and looked away.

  Magnus leaned over to look in the man’s face. “Cousin, this lady, that you have injured, Madame Campbell, has spared your life this day. Will ye touch her again?”

  “Nae, nocht.”

  Magnus dropped the man’s hair allowing him to slump to the ground. He thrust his blade to the man’s throat.“You will nae look upon her again, or I will kill ye. Dost ye understand my words and meanin’?”

  “Aye, Magnus.”

  “You may leave.”

  The man heaved himself up struggling with his footing. Blood smeared his face. He wobbled and weaved as he made it to the door and through to the kitchen. The older woman left too.

  I clutched my cloak around myself on the cold hard ground.

  My husband remained crouched where he had been staring into the man’s eyes. Immobile. Ragged breaths heaved his shoulders. He dropped down to sitting, his back to me, elbows on his knees. He held his knife in his hands.

  His breaths were bullish, through his nose, furiously loud. His anger had flooded so high, I could hear him attempt to squelch it under.

  He asked, still turned away, his voice even, measured, and low, “Did he hurt ye?”

  I felt the back of my head. It was a mean bump but probably fine. My throat hurt, but — “Not too bad.”

  He sat quietly for long terrible angry moments. “I canna get on top of it.” He clutched his chest.

  I nodded, staring up at the ceiling. I was having trouble with my breaths too.

  “Was he inside ye, Kaitlyn?”

  I shook my head, but he couldn’t see me and I couldn’t bring myself to lie. “Not entire—“

  “Daena say it.” He shook his head and growled, a sound low and desperate and guttural. “I canna let him have ye.”

  Then he turned, yanked my cloak aside, and climbed on me. He shoved his hips up against my body and pushed himself inside me with another growl and another and another. His head was down by my shoulder, growling and grunting, slamming into me over and over. I bit into his shoulder to hold my cries. And held on, meeting his desperate force with my own counter force, until finally, with a final blow and a shuddering groan, he collapsed down, spent, done.

  His breath continued ragged but not violent anymore. I focused on the spot on his shoulder where I had been biting and fell away. My arms dropped to the cloak-draped ground. It was freezing cold on this stone floor.

  He raised up to his knees and stared down at me spread-eagled before him. Then he took my hand and pulled me to standing before him. He raised my sundress a little and made a small sad adjustment of my tiny, little, now torn-to-rags, panties, trying to set them to rights.

  Then he rested his hands on my hips, dropped his forehead to my belly, and with his head down, face pressed into my stomach, he cried. Hugging my hips, quietly, his shoulders shaking.

  I held onto the back of his head until he was done.

  “I am sorry for it Kaitlyn.”

  I was shivering cold through to my core. The kind of cold that might never leave me. Soul cold. Bitter cold. Iced hard through.

  “I know.”

  “I had tae. I canna let him have ye. I had tae make ye mine again.”

  I took a deep breath trying to get any kind of warmth into my body. “I understand why you did it, but you need to get your fucking hands off of me.” I pushed his hands down my hips and away.

  He sat for a moment looking down at the ground before him while I stared at the back wall. Then he rose and said, “I’ll take ye tae our room.”

  Chapter 18

  Magnus led me up a back stairwell, down wide tapestry-hung halls, and through bare stone-walled hallways. I guessed we were on the third floor, and it was dark, too dark to make out what i was seeing. I just followed. Oh, and it was freezing cold.

  He pushed open a heavy wooden door and spoke briefly with a young woman who had been tending a hearth. She bowed a bit as she scooted past me to leave.

  I headed straight for the fire to warm my hands. I was shaking to my core — from the temperatures and fear. My nerves were jangled past breaking. I kind of wondered if I might go a little psychotic because this was terrifying. I had been here for about eight hours and my husband hated me. I had been sexually assaulted, watched my husband beat a man, and then I was anger-banged by Magnus and—

  I burst into tears. Clutching my cloak, a hand on my mouth — rending my cloth and twisting my skin — what the fuck was I doing here? I wanted to go back, but it was so awful. I didn’t want to. And what was to be done — what would I do? I sank onto a settee, wrapped all around my legs in a ball, and cried.

  And I was cold to my core freezing.

  Plus my whole area between my legs hurt like hell because I had been wearing tiny panties and a sundress when I rode a horse for hours in the freezing cold. Plus I was attacked and—

  I cried longer until I wondered if I might never stop.

  Magnus grabbed a large wool blanket from the bed, covered me with it, and tucked it around me. It was scratchy. Then he knelt in front of my chair and reached for my hand jarring me back to reality. I snatched my hand away.

  He slumped to the ground, leaned on my settee, and watched me quietly.

  I pulled the cloak around my head and the blanket up to my eyes.

  “Dost ye remember the night we decided tae be married?”

  I nodded. My eyes focused on the deep darkness under the blanket. I didn’t look at Magnus; I didn’t know if I could ever look at him again. I was so full of anger or fear or shame or — all of it, every bit of every terrible horrible feeling.

  “I promised ye I would be better as time goes on. And I have broken that promise tae ye. I know, I hear it in your cries. I am afeared ye will nae forgive me, and I beg of ye tae try.”

  I sniffled. “You said that I was like the North Star and you would follow me.” I shook, even with the wool blanket, even with the fire close by.

  “Mo reul-iuil, I call ye, and I mean it. I have just lost my way.”

  “You said that and bunch of other romantic stuff, but you have been barely speaking to me the whole time we’ve been here. And it’s scary. And it hurt. And you’ve just been grumbling at me. And you left me alone. And that guy. And then you—“ I sobbed into my knees. “I think you may have broken my heart.”

  "I know. I have sworn tae protect ye and take care of ye and I will ma
ke good on it.”

  He rose up on his knees and stroked a finger under each of my eyes to wipe my tears.

  I shook his hands away.

  “Talk tae me, Kaitlyn, please.”

  “No, you can’t tell me not to say anything — to not argue and to obey and to be good and be quiet — and then beg me to tell you what’s wrong. That’s not the way this works.”

  “I am new tae this, mo reul-iuil. Please allow me tae begin again."

  I sat with my jaw set. “My head hurts. I’m super thirsty. Can you get me some water?”

  “I dinna ken tis water in the room.” He stood and checked the small table to the side. “There is wine?”

  I sighed. “Okay.”

  He brought me a cup with wine in it. I drank it down and swiped my hand across my lips to wipe them. “Thanks.”

  “Will you forgive me, mo ghradh?”

  “Remind me what 'mo gra' means?”

  “It means my own love.”

  “See, that’s not fair, to be mad at me all day and then think you can call me something in Gaelic so I’ll forgive you. And why were you mad? Because I didn’t obey you. Well you didn’t protect me. So we both let each other down. We can both be furious with each other.”

  “I am nae angry with ye Kaitlyn, nae anymore.”

  “Because you feel bad about what happened to me. Maybe you only feel it because I’m damaged now — well guess what? I feel really damaged. I feel completely broken. And totally alone.”

  He looked in my eyes. His were full of fear, but mine had grown hard. I had grown even more furious the more I talked about it. We sat in silence.

  Finally I asked, “What are we going to do?”

  “I am going tae beg ye tae forgive—“

  “No, I mean, now, for dinner, what do we do next?”

  “I have asked for a dress for ye. Tis on the bed. And we must dine in the great hall tonight. My Uncle Baldie is off traveling. So I am left tae deal with the Earl directly. I must ask him tae give me men tae return tae Talsworth Castle tae find Lady Mairead.”

  “When you’re there you’ll need to find both the vessels, the one that Lord Delapointe has and the one that Lady Mairead has hidden.”

  “Tis a verra delicate matter, usually Baldie would arrange things for me. He is Sean’s uncle and likes me verra much. But the situation with the Earl is far more delicate. He daena like me much. And Lady Mairead has caused him much trouble.”

  “So you think he will give you men?”

  “Aye, twill take some negotiating, but Lady Mairead is his sister and she has been ill-used by her husband. I have been held there and whipped. I dinna ken the Earl will accept the challenge tae his power.”

  I said, “Then you and these other men will walk up to the Castle Talsworth and tell them you demand to see Lady Mairead?”

  “I imagine twill be verra more dangerous than that.”

  “Me too.”

  “You will need a history. I was planning it while we rode today. You are my wife, Kaitlyn Sheffield. Your father is stationed in the West Indies, where ye were raised. Tis why ye speak so strange.”

  I gave him a half-hearted chuckle.

  “I met ye in London and married ye just afore I was captured by Lord Delapointe.” He looked worried but I couldn’t rally any empathy.

  I closed my eyes. “I’ll make sure to just keep my mouth closed.”

  “Kaitlyn—“

  I opened my eyes. “C’mon Magnus, be truthful. Do you want me to talk or sit silent and let you talk? Because I know which you want, so out with it.”

  Magnus looked at me with a plead in his eyes. “Twould be better if ye were quiet. Tis true, but not the—“

  “In 2017 you galavanted around town in a kilt, carrying a sword, talking to anyone. Zach guessed, and you didn’t worry about it. No one told you you couldn’t.”

  “Here every man has a sword, and they are watchin’ every other man for a weakness. I have nae lived long, but still I have killed men. Tis a different history, Kaitlyn, and ye know tis true if ye think on it.” He shook his head slowly with a tiny bit of a smile. “And I dinna galavant. You make me seem silly. I believe I looked rather dignified on my horse, Sunny.”

  I humphed. “Whatever, you get my point. And I’m still furious at you. You might be right that Scotland in the 18th century, is more dangerous than Florida in 2017. And yeah, I have a bruise on my face that proves it, so I’ll be quiet and let you talk. But I won’t be happy about it.”

  Magnus asked, “So ye will hate me then?”

  “Yes. This morning you said what I did was unforgivable. So we’re even.”

  “If you hate me what will ye do?”

  “I’ll go back to 2017. First chance.”

  Very quietly Magnus asked, “If you go with the vessel what happens if I canna find another one?”

  I chewed my lip. “I guess you don’t get to ever come.”

  “You would leave me forever?”

  I pulled the blanket up to my cheeks. “Maybe.”

  “What if I winna give ye the vessel?”

  It had grown dark outside, casting our room into even deeper darkness, The firelight flickered on his cheek. The only part of the room I could see, his jawline. It didn’t seem fair. “You would keep me here, against my will?”

  He gave me a sad smile. “Maybe.”

  “Fine, I don’t need you. I’m industrious and capable. I’ll just stay, but not with you.”

  “And what would ye do?”

  “I will take a horse, ride as far away as I can, and live in a little cottage somewhere. Just making crepes and keeping chickens or something.”

  “You hate me so much ye would become a horse thief and grow old alone in the forest?”

  “I won’t be alone, I’ll have thirty kittens.”

  “How would ye feed them all?”

  I chuckled a bit, beginning to feel a little warmer. “You heard me, I’ll make crepes. Lots of crepes. With Nutella.”

  He raised his brow with a laugh. “You are verra beautiful. I winna be able tae stay away. I will have a tent just outside your house. I will live there in the cold and protect ye every day of my life.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  He looked down at his hands. “When we were downstairs, I asked ye if I should kill him. I wanted tae. If ye had said, “Aye,” I would have slit his throat. It would have been verra bad for me, but I wanted tae kill him. You said tae spare his life though, and I listened tae ye. If ye command it I will honor your word. I just ask ye tae honor mine.”

  “You would have killed him for me?”

  “Och aye, Kaitlyn Campbell, on one word. I would have been hung for it, but twould have been a willing trade. I am grateful for your wisdom in the matter.”

  I sighed again, deeply. I still felt so wronged, but I also felt a bit better listening to the rumbling voice of my husband. “You would really live in a tent outside my forest cottage?”

  “I would hunt for food for ye and leave it on your doorstep.”

  “Food?”

  “Like rabbits and deer.”

  “I’m not sharing the Nutella though.”

  “I would rather have vanilla ice cream. I miss Chef Zach terribly.”

  “Me too. And I don’t know how to cook a rabbit. It sounds complicated. I suppose it’s a terrible plan.” The darkness of the room made the prospect of food seem hopeful. I was hungry. I flung back the rough blanket and went and shivered near the bed looking down at the pile of dress that also looked very complicated.

  In the mound of fabric there was a long white linen dress with a scooped neckline. I guessed that was an underdress, but — without turning I asked, “Is this what I put on first?”

  “Aye.”

  I slipped off my filthy sundress. “Don’t look over here.”

  He turned back to the fire.

  “What about underwear, panties, whatever — bloomers?”

  “Tis nae done.”

  I sighed a
nd wiggled the white chemise down over my body. Then i dropped my torn, filthy panties to the ground. They had been a beautiful vintage-looking gray lace. I bought them because they looked old-fashioned and I thought Magnus would appreciate that, but now, beside this gigantic pile of thick, wool clothing, they looked much newer. Even torn they looked like they were from a different century altogether. Showed what I knew.

  “Please daena hate me anymore.”

  I humphed, lifting a very, very, heavy deep green skirt up and stepping into it. I twisted it around looking for a zipper, button, string at the top, or anything.

  Magnus said, “You need tae use the belt.”

  I looped the leather strap around the top of the skirt and threaded the end through a buckle. The rest of the pile had what looked like a jacket and piles of cloth I didn’t know what to do with. . . I was quite cold and growing frustrated. “Do you know how to do this?”

  He rose and came to the bed. “I have never dressed a woman afore but—“

  I stood stoically while he unloosed the belt, clutched the skirt, and held the jacket for me. I slipped my arms into the sleeves. We tucked the skirt up into it, and he began lacing it in the back.

  He cinched it all tight and then rounded me to check the front. “Och, see, I dinna do it well. The front should hold your breasts up more.” He unloosed the back.

  I pushed my breasts up so my cleavage looked fantastic, and he tightened the back again. He returned to the pile and picked up a shawl, and draped it across my back, hanging down in the front, and lastly, he added the belt around my middle cinched tight to hold it all in place.

  His hands paused at my bodice-tightened waist. “Tis a beautiful look on ye, Kaitlyn.” He placed his forehead on mine. “I am verra sorry for my words and actions on this day. I will make it up tae ye, please give me the chance.”

  I reached out and touched his arm and nodded my forehead against his lips.

  “You will?”

  “Yes, I will forgive you, eventually.”

  “Thank ye, Kaitlyn. Tis your second pardon of the day that has saved my life.” He kissed me on my forehead and then held me at arm’s length admiring me in my dress.

  I said, “Now that I’m dressed. I desperately need to use the bathroom, so far it’s been outdoors?”