Time and Space Between Us

by Knightley, Diana

  Magnus scowled. “I suppose ye could have the vessel with you. If anything happened ye could return tae your time.”

  “No, you’d have the vessel. If something happens, you storm the castle and rescue me. We jump together. That’s the thing Magnus. We only have one vessel right now. I’m not jumping without you; I might never see you again.”

  He sat quietly looking around the great hall. I scanned the room too, the tapestry across from my seat, the carved wall, and especially people, the faces down the table. Many looking like relatives of Lady Mairead. The men and women were all dressed, layers of clothes, nicer than my own, hair done. The servants were bustling around. The noise had grown louder as the night became later. Beer was passed around the tables. A musician played a stringed instrument behind us.

  As if he read my thoughts Magnus said, “Tis nae Food Fighters.”

  I laughed. “It’s hard to be mad at you when you’re so helpless. You can’t even get the band’s name right. You need me so desperately.”

  “I do, I am a desperate man without ye.” He nodded looking out over the hall. “Okay Kaitlyn, I agree. And if we only have one vessel, we will jump together.”

  “Thank you.”

  “But, if you find a second vessel at the castle. If ye can get your hands on it, steal it, take it back home. I will get tae ye.”

  “Okay, it’s a deal.”

  He clasped my hand, and we watched the diners for a few minutes. Finally Magnus’s brother, Sean, entered the room. He rushed us and swept Magnus up into a gigantic bear hug. Magnus and Sean banged each other’s shoulders. Their hulking masses exclaiming and battering each other happily, until Magnus flinched painfully. “I have an injury brother, tis—“

  Sean deftly twisted Magnus and yanked the back of his shirt to forcefully look inside the neck. “What has happened to ye Mags?”

  I chuckled, remembering James calling Magnus ‘Mags’ too.

  “I have had a run in with Lady Mairead’s husband.”

  “Och, well, tis only a scratch.”

  Magnus laughed and introduced me. Sean exclaimed, “Kaitlyn, sister!” And hugged me so tightly I wondered if a rib might break. Magnus asked after his sister, Lizabeth, who happened to be off traveling with their Uncle Baldie.

  Then Sean was told about our errand the following morning. His voice boomed. “So we must rescue mum again, fine, though I wish she would make a better choice of husbands.”

  Magnus laughed, “Her newest one seems tae be the most dangerous of the lot.”

  Sean said, “True. We’ll catch up tomorrow, Mags, on our ride. I need to get some food in me in the meantime. And speaking of better choices, ye needs be careful. Ye are making enemies of your cousins, I hear. I will need tae mend the bonds and I daena want tae work so hard.”

  “You heard then?”

  “The whole castle heard. Cousin Ewan is much favored by the Earl. I am grateful ye spared his life or I might be attending a hanging tomorrow instead of an easy visit with mum.”

  They hugged again before Sean left to sit at a seat at the far end of the table. Another group of men came up to speak to Magnus. He introduced me to what seemed like the hundredth person.

  The Earl stood and made a speech, mostly Gaelic. It was followed by cheers. Cups were raised in our direction. My name was said, so I blushed though I had no idea what was being said about me. I drank more beer, feeling quite tipsy and comfortable for the first time in hours.

  Magnus whispered, “Chef Zach right now is scooping vanilla for Emma.”

  “Ah, but see, she is fond of chocolate fudge with ribbons of marshmallow through it. Plus she is pregnant. She probably wants pickles or something with it.”

  “Pickles? With ice cream?” He looked outraged, but then laughed. “Well, I will try anything once.”

  We both gestured for another beer and drank it, whispering to each other and laughing at inside jokes.

  “I would like tae have a baby with ye Kaitlyn.”

  “I’d prefer to have babies in my century than yours.”

  He rubbed his hand along the back of mine. “Would ye like tae go upstairs?”

  I glanced across the room. Ewan was glaring at us. It had only been about six hours since he had his forearm across my throat. Only about four hours since I had been furious with my husband and yes, the food and beer had helped my mood, but I didn’t feel loving or sexy yet. Not when my head still ached from the punch and when it hit the stone floor. “I’m not in the mood for anything Magnus. I’m still… I need some sleep and time to get back there.”

  He kissed my fingers with a nod. He leaned to the Earl’s ear and told him we were retiring to our quarters, and then we walked the long dark corridors back to our bedroom.

  Chapter 22

  First Magnus had to stoke and build the fire anew because our room was freezing. It felt like it was about ten degrees Fahrenheit. I wrapped myself in the scratchy wool blanket on the settee and waited for Magnus to help me untie the binding, too-tight bodice. As soon as Magnus finished with the fire, he unlaced the strings so I could shimmy out of it tossing it to the floor.

  I scrabbled through my bag for more lip balm and smeared it on my lips. “Ah, this is heaven, all the comforts of home.”

  I returned to the settee in front of the fire and Magnus put his arm out for me to curl under. “We should stay here until we are warm enough tae go tae the bed. The heat barely moves from this spot.”

  I watched the firelight dance and felt held strong and comfortable by my husband. I had never watched a fire burn while in his arms. It was another first. And I reminded myself that these were all firsts; we were still so new to each other, trying to figure it out.

  “What are ye thinking of?”

  “How this is our honeymoon. The trip we would take after we’re married, to celebrate.”

  His voice was quiet and rumbling through the darkness. “Tis too heartrending tae be a celebration.”

  “It’s an adventure, that might be a good start too.”

  “Ah.” He nudged my head with his shoulder so he could look down into my eyes. “Tis the first thing ye have said that truly sounds like ye have forgiven me.”

  I tightened my hold around his chest. “I have, I’m just… I still feel wounded. Rubbed raw. I just need you to hold me right now.”

  He kissed my forehead and we laid there until I fell asleep in his arms.

  Chapter 23

  I woke up a few hours later, discombobulated, uncertain, confused, trying to get my eyes to adjust to the complete darkness of the room. Oh, it came to me with a jolt — I was in an eighteenth century castle. My whole body ached, time jumping, horse riding, rape, all had worked on my last nerve, muscle, sinew. Magnus had at some time in the night moved me to the bed. Plus this bed was not right — the mattress felt like it was stuffed with a handful of feathers wrapped under heavy linen. Like an air mattress gone soft. It fluffed in a few places, but not where I needed it, leaving me on flat wood planks.

  There was a rustling sound on the floor.

  My body tightened. I listened. There was definitely something in the room with us. I whispered, “Magnus? Magnus!” I pushed against his chest to wake him.

  “Huh?”

  “Magnus, something’s in our room. Over there.” I tucked behind his chest as he turned to peer toward it.

  He finally said, “Tis a rat, over near the fireplace.” He started laughing. “Tis nothing, just a verminous animal in our bed quarters m’lady.” He laughed harder.

  I laughed too, holding him around the middle.

  “Rats, fleas, bedbugs, nothing but the best for ye,” he said, laughing still.

  “Bed bugs?” I tucked even closer to his chest. “Rats — what do you suppose it’s doing over there?”

  He listened. “Did you have any food in your bag?”

  “No, god, it’s in my bag, ew.”

  “Tis a good distraction, will keep him from our bed.”

  “Magnus! Ou
r bed, it might come in our bed?” I wrapped tighter around his body. “I need my phone to call the exterminator. Can you ask the rat to drag my bag over here?”

  He laughed harder. “Why does my wife believe I can converse with rats?”

  “I’m assuming they are Gaelic rats. In Florida if a cockroach walked through our house at night I would be the one asking it to bring me things. Okay wait, that’s bullshit, cockroaches are worse than rats.”

  “Rats have teeth, my dear Kaitlyn, and they daena speak Gaelic. They speak evil.”

  Tiny rat footsteps scurried away.

  I giggled. “You hurt its feelings.”

  Magnus said, “More likely, whatever they were searching for they are done with.”

  “What could it have been. . . the only thing I had in there was my — oh no, my Burt’s Bees lip balm? Could they, would they? My lips will fall off my face.”

  “Och aye, tis what gives ye the taste of peppermint and honey? Two of the favorite foods of rats. I think ye may be done with the lip balm, mo reul-iuil.” His fingers traced up and down my arm. We were snuggled under a thick linen cloth. The scratchy wool blanket was spread on top of that, and then a fur that might have been a bear or something else big and too awful to imagine. Heavy layers. His fingers trailed to my chin and pulled it up, meeting my lips with his.

  He kissed me long and deep. His fingers tracing up and down my arms and then caressing along my side and pulling my leg across his waist. The dark was near total, another first for us. In our room at home we mostly kept the windows unshaded, the glow of the moon giving our room an ambient light.

  Here it was just pitch black, complete. So my other senses took over. The sound of my heartbeat and breath rang in my ears. Fainter, the rain outside — slowing now from earlier. The deep breaths of my husband, quickening, as his excitement built running his hands down my body. The scent of the room, smoky and old, musty bedding.

  I climbed onto Magnus, straddled him, and tucked my nose against his neck breathing his scent in deep. It was thicker here, unwashed, but still gathering the scents around him — smoke and candle wax and even still the lingering scent of our shampoo from home and the oils I rubbed into his back before we left. I licked and nibbled his neck and met his lips with a deep kiss.

  I shivered, Magnus pulled the blankets higher on my shoulders and tucked it around my legs. I sat up and used my fingers to trace his form under me. He was rubbing all over me. It felt delicious, blinded. As his excitement built mine did too and all the hate and anger of earlier in the day fell away.

  It was just me loved by him, melting under his touch, shivering in the cold air, yet searing in the dips and valleys were we met. I folded over him, an elbow on each side of his face. He rubbed down my waist to my thighs, cupped my ass and brought me up and firmly down on him. His breath was a moan against my shoulder. His hands rubbed my breasts and moved down my hips massaging me up and down. I rose up to sitting and arched back, sensitive to every ridge of his prints on my skin. “You are so beautiful,”

  I whispered, “You can’t see me.”

  “I see ye. Glowing above me, solasta, my North Star, mo reul-iuil.”

  I breathed in his words with a deep warmth that flowed through my veins. I breathed out the words, “I love you, Magnus Campbell.”

  “Aye.” He picked me up and brought me down and rubbed his hands around again, a rhythmic pattern — rub me up and then massage me down — mesmerizing me with the movements as intensity built. Long after I had forgotten that we had been talking, he said, “Tis the same for me, yet tis a brutal love, mo reul-iuil. I am afraid of ye. Afraid for ye.” His voice vibrated in his chest, under my palms as I rode his waves. He pulled me up and pushed me back. “I am weakened and wanting and if I try tae be strong and bold your touch brings me back to my knees.”

  My breath was quick and shallow, my thoughts spinning. Drips along my lips, I kissed him, rising and falling and touching and riding, “God, Magnus, oh my god. . . ” having lost my ability to speak just — him, me, the infinite universe and —

  He held my breasts raising and lowering me, meeting me on the ups and downs. Then he stilled, expectant, while I, with breaths that were like moans, continued to ride, faster and faster, until I burst apart, losing myself with a sound like a wail. I finished — spent. He kissed my neck and brought me up and down taking another long moment before, with his own moan, he finished too.

  His arms went around my back and hugged me to his chest.

  I kissed his cheeks, the ridge of his nose, tasted the salty sweat on his upper lips. “I’m a brutal love?”

  “I dinna ken if ye were listenin’.”

  “Maybe not with my ears. It was hard to listen while you were rocking me like that, but in my heart I heard every word. I want to make you happy — don’t I make you happy?”

  “Tis a conflict, that ye are my love and my happiness and my pleasure.” He pressed his hips against me. He was now soft and insignificant, but the moment before had been so spectacular that my breath quickened at the memory of it. “Yet I am furious ye are so powerful. I may nae survive ye.”

  “Magnus, you may break my heart again talking like this.”

  His voice whispered in my ear. “I know, mo reul-iuil. I know. But tis a truth I must warn ye of. I love ye, and tis brutal that ye are alive three hundred years away. I am borrowing ye against time.” He kissed up my neck and across my cheek to my lips.

  “I’m right here, on you, flesh and blood. I am yours and time and space don’t matter. We transcend. That is the truth of it.” I pulled my hips up and away and slid to his side, tucked under his arm, draped across his chest.

  “Aye, but when ye hated me today, twas the darkest moment of my life.”

  In his voice I could hear the pauses growing, the rhythm slowing, the rumble deepening, as he slid toward sleep.

  “And you’ve been whipped.”

  “Aye, I have been whipped. But when ye hated me twas worse.”

  “I could never really hate you. Those were just words. I’ll be more careful with them in the future.”

  “Me as well, mo reul-iuil.” And then he slowly relaxed and the dark enveloped us as first he fell asleep and then I. . .

  Chapter 24

  I woke to a bone-chilling cold. Far worse than in the middle of the night. Dawn was the coldest I had ever been. I could see my breath while we were under the blankets. Magnus built a fire, yet still I had to leave the bed to get near it. And yes, my lip balm lid was chewed and the stick of it gone. That rat was a total jerk.

  While I dressed and then Magnus tightened the laces on my back, he went over what we needed to accomplish. He said, “You need tae ask Lady Mairead where Lord Delapointe Is keeping his vessel. It must be there in the castle. Also ask her where the third vessel is. She must have hidden it somewhere. Then you need tae—“

  “I need to make a list. I suppose paper and pencil would be too much trouble? Wait, I have my phone. But I don’t want to run down the battery.”

  “In case ye need tae make a call?” We both laughed.

  “I hate phone lists anyways, I can’t cross through the entries.”

  He continued. “If he winna let ye see her, I need tae know if Lady Mairead is imprisoned. If so, try to determine where in the castle she is being kept. Perhaps we can plan an escape…”

  I turned and he pushed up my breasts as he tightened the cord on the front. “You’re getting good at this.”

  “I greatly prefer the undressing, but your cleavage is a hint of what is under there. Tis verra nice.”

  “You’re a scoundrel.”

  “You’re my wife. I consider myself lucky I find ye so attractive. Could be far worse. You could have the face of a pig.” He leaned down and kissed me on the top of my jiggling cleavage.

  “That is not my face, sir Magnus.”

  He grinned and then returned to the list. “If you have the chance tae get Delapointe’s vessel, get your hands on it and journey home.
I will be right behind ye. If you canna get tae the vessel, run out of the castle, I will be waitin’. And we both go back together with the one I have in my sporran.”

  I nodded. It all made sense, complicated, but reasonable. Except the part where I left without him, but what were the odds I’d have Lord Delapointe’s vessel, anyway?

  He added, “Come out by nine at night.”

  “Okay, easy.”

  He held my waist and looked in my eyes. “Not easy. Hard. Lady Mairead is nae tae be trusted, but her brother, the Earl? He is trustworthy, yet verra slippery. He is always playin’ a game, always strategizin’. He loves a battlefield. He will play us all like soldiers without worryin’ a bit about our lives. And for sport he likes to pit people against each other. If he is helpin’ us, tis because he wants somethin’ in return.”

  “It couldn’t just be that he wants to not look weak? Lord Delapointe Is holding his sister and held his nephew. It serves him to look strong to demand knowledge of their whereabouts.”

  “True, but watch him. There will be ulterior motives. If anything happens in the walls of the castle I will climb them tae get tae ye.” He handed me a knife.

  “Is this yours?”

  He nodded and gestured for me to raise my skirts. He strapped the knife just below my knee. Then he used soot from the hearth to scuff all over the tops of my too rubber, too new, too-foreign sneakers.

  We stood still and looked at each other. “I know ye have agreed Kaitlyn, but I have tae ask again — please, go. If you have a vessel in your hands, go.”

  “What if you need me? I have those mad fighting skills.”

  He half-smiled. “I know ye are being funny. I am good at fighting though, remember I can handle myself. I can.” He pulled my chin up and looked me in the eyes. “You daena need tae save me. Save yourself. Please.”