The next few days passed in the welcome fog of numbness. Connor now let her go where she pleased in the castle. She still wasn't allowed outside. Only once, when she glanced out the window in the library and saw Connor with a tender look on his face, conversing with a beautiful woman with long auburn hair, did she feel any of the pain she'd been hiding from herself. But ever the survivor, she resolutely turned her face back to the book she'd been pretending to read and tried to forget the soft, unguarded expression Connor had worn when he'd looked at the girl. He had never looked at her like that; as if he'd cared for her. She refused to feel jealousy for something that had never been hers. She vaguely remembered wishing once that he would look at her like that; with his guard down. But Mackenzie tamped the memory down, and tried not to think.
It was too hard to keep her traitorous thoughts from straying to Connor, so she went back to her room and tried to take a nap. Sleep came quickly to her. Mackenzie hadn't been sleeping well, so she constantly felt tired, and drank a lot of the strong coffee she'd begun to like. She'd found out through Bronwyn that they actually had coffee houses here in 18th century Britain. What she wouldn't give to see one! The first primordial beginnings of trendy cafe! She had smiled for the first time in days when Bronwyn had shared this information 152
This time, the dream that woke her was as close to an actual nightmare as she'd ever had. It was the man with the ice cold blue eyes again...she was now assuming that he was her "fiance," John Campbell. He and Connor were fighting in a strange dark place but she could tell it was inside somewhere with high arched ceilings.
It had begun the same as always, but when she glanced across the beautiful room at Connor, she realized he was in chains, as he looked at her balefully. She looked down at herself and noticed that there was something cool and metallic in her hands. She couldn't figure out all the pieces yet, the way some dreams are. Then Connor's chains turned to snakes and he leaped out of them. He ran to the man, sword drawn and Mackenzie screamed.
Her fear wasn't for herself, it was for Connor. In the dream, while Connor had a sword, the Campbell had fire.
Mackenzie couldn't explain how he controlled the fire; it seemed to come from his fingertips, but her instincts were shouting to her that Connor would die in this fight. And she was running. She knew how to stop it, the fight, the feud, her purpose here...she knew it all. If only she could get there in time! But she couldn't; she kept running and running, but she never was able to gain any distance. She woke screaming, 153
Her ragged breathing and staccato heartbeat wouldn't slow.
The sound of her door being thrown open tore a soft scream from her throat. She cut it off by clamping a hand over her mouth as she saw Connor leap through the open door, sword drawn. His eyes were scanning the room, looking for something. She realized that he must have heard her screaming.
He turned his eyes to her and his voice was rough, "Are ye hurt?"
She quietly cleared her throat and said, "No, I'm sorry. It was a dream." She said once more, this time to herself, "It was only a dream."
He sheathed his sword and came to stand in front of Mackenzie, who still sat in her bed, tangled in the unavoidable skirts that came with this century. His eyes searched hers for a moment before he dropped to his knee, so he was at eye level with Mackenzie.
"A dream?" He said it softly, but seriously.
"A...a bad dream." Mackenzie suddenly wanted nothing more than to throw her arms around the man whom she'd been ignoring for the past few days. She wanted to feel him warm and safe, even if it would only hurt her in return. She'd known that she had feelings for Connor, but the dreams had shown her just how deep her feelings went. Her fingers ached to touch his face, to smooth the worry away from his brow.
So instead, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, and straightened her skirts. She kept her eyes on her hands.
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"Can you tell me of the dream?" Her eyes flew to his.
"You mean you actually want to know?" She didn't want him to know how central to her dreams he was. She could say she didn't remember it. No, he could tell when she was lying.
Quickly she mentally edited the dream; it was about blood and death, probably brought on from what she'd seen in her short time here...that could work.
"Aye, lass, I'd like to ken what had you screamin' like a banshee."
"Oh," she flushed, wondering who else had heard her screams.
"Please?" It was the softening of his eyes that had Mackenzie telling him the truth. Mostly.
"Umm...it was mainly about...you..." she looked at her hands again, and fidgeted with her skirts. "You were going to be killed," she whispered it, her lips barely moving with the admission.
"Look at me," he commanded. She didn't move.
"Mackenzie?" Her lashes fluttered, but she forced her eyes to remain down. A long finger under her chin tilted her face until she had to look at him. "I'm fine. See?" He spread his arms wide.
"But you won't be." Now she'd done it. She hadn't meant to tell him this.
His eyes narrowed, "What do you mean?"
"Nothing. Don't worry about it." Mackenzie tried to play it off. "I'm okay, so thanks for checking on me." She was beginning to feel again. The friendly numbness was nowhere 155
to be found. She needed him to leave so she could collect herself...or cry.
"There's something you're no' telling me."
Why was he so observant? "It was just a dream, Connor."
Mackenzie stood and tried to step around him, but he stood as well, and stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.
"What are you hiding from me?"
"It's not important." Mackenzie swung her hair to hide her face. Connor swept it aside and behind her shoulder, his fingers brushing her neck.
"If it has you screaming like that, then yes, 'tis."
His gentle tone made Mackenzie angry, angrier than when he was pushy and arrogant. Why couldn't he just leave it alone? Why did he choose now to be nice and caring? It made her voice sharp, "But you never believe me, so why should this be any different?"
He stiffened at the bitterness in her tone. "Why wouldn't I believe a dream?"
"Fine," she snapped. He asked for it. "Sometimes I have dreams that aren't really dreams at all. They're, I don't know, premonitions, or something."
He sucked in a quick breath, "You have visions?"
"No. Well, yes. Kinda. It's hard to explain. Like, I've been having the same dream since I was a teenager, but I'm only just now starting to understand it. I think it was about me coming here," she glanced at him before adding, "to your time."
"What was it, this dream from your childhood?"
"I think about my marriage to John Campbell."
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"I'm not sure, but it's the only thing that makes sense. I keep seeing myself in a crowded hall, with everyone in costumes, er, I mean gowns, and I'm staring at him. And I know that I'm going to die, and that he's the one who's going to kill me. Yet I walk towards him anyway." She shrugged.
"That's all."
"There's more." His eyes were shrewd. Again, Mackenzie wondered why he had to be so damn observant.
She sighed, "Usually my dreams only predict death. Like when my grandmother died, or my parents, I knew that they were dead before the police told us."
"Us?"
"My brother Braden and me."
"You've a brother? I thought you were an only child."
"For all intents and purposes, here, I am."
He ignored that, "So what was in your dream that has you thinking that I will die?"
Her eyes squinted in concentration. Trying to remember the dream that was becoming less and less real with each passing moment was like trying to look through a dimly lit room. "You were fighting the man with the cold eyes. He had control over fire. I'm not sure what happens...I just know that he will win. Everything we do, bringing me here, it's useless.
I'm useless." Mackenzie threw her hands up in the air. She was so frustrated. The whole point of being dragged through time was to save Connor and his people, and she couldn't do anything! And now he would die because of her. She had to stop this.
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"And the man with the cold eyes, this is the Campbell?"
"I'm not sure. I think so, but I've never seen John Campbell before. This man is tall, blond, blue eyes."
"That sounds like him. What do you mean when you say he had control over fire?"
"I don't know. It was like it came from his sword, or his hands, I'm not sure! This is so frustrating!" Her voice rose with her irritation. "It's hard to explain, but I'll dream it again, over and over and over. It never stops until someone dies!"
She controlled her voice, "The dreams usually have to be pieced together...it takes several before I can really figure it all out."
"And you ken that this is a vision, rather than simply a nightmare?"
She snorted, "Last night I dreamt that I was being chased by a giant cheeseburger, so yeah, I can tell the difference."
"A what?"
"Never mind. In answer to your question, yes, I know when the dreams are important. They feel real. Even in the dream, they feel
real."
She ran a hand through her tangled curls and exhaled roughly, "I can't explain it right."
Connor stared at her without speaking for a moment before asking her, "Will you tell me when you figure out how he controls the fire?"
"Sure, if you want me to...wait! Seriously? Does this mean you believe me?" Her jaw fell open.
"Aye, Mackenzie, I do."
"Really?" And she smiled so widely, her smile blinded him.
And it fell just as quickly, replaced with suspicion. "Why?"
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"Oh. But you still think I am in cahoots with John Campbell."
"Aye, and I'm truly sorry about that."
"But you believe that I'm trying to help now." She was trying to understand his thinking.
"Aye, but I still think that I was set up to abduct you; there is just too much that does no' make sense."
"Like what? Maybe I can help?"
Connor didn't answer right away, as if he was trying to decide how much to tell her. "The Campbell's man told me that you two were married last month, and that you are here to help him find a way into my home; to destroy my clan."
Mackenzie burst into laughter. "Seriously?" she gasped between chuckles. "That is what you think? And I thought I was naive." When she had composed herself, she said, "So does this man have any proof that I was married last month?"
She couldn't keep the smile off her face.
"The pendant that you wore; 'tis only given to Campbell brides on their wedding night."
"And you never thought that the men who brought me here might have stolen it for me?"
"Nay, I hadn't. But it matters not, because you canna prove you are not what they say."
"But what if I could prove I am who
I
say I am?"
Mackenzie had stepped closer to him in her newfound hope.
Connor's eyes suddenly had a fevered light in them, "Can you?"
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Bronwyn entered with a tray of biscuits and a cup of coffee causing Mackenzie to smile. She and Bronwyn had become friends, despite all the nasty gossip. And for Bronwyn to remember she liked coffee in the afternoon was touching. But Bronwyn jumped as she saw Connor standing in front of Mackenzie.
"Oh, me Laird! I dinna ken ye'd be in here. Me Lady, here's yer coffee. I'll just be leavin' it on the table here and take my leave." She practically scampered out into the hallway.
When Mackenzie turned her face back to Connor she was shocked. He was frowning at the door. What was wrong?
What was he angry about this time?
"Is everything okay?"
"When did you last eat?" She hadn't expected that to be the problem.
Her brow furrowed, "I don't know, breakfast?" It came out as a question; his line of questioning had her confused.
"And you haven't been eating in the hall at suppertime, have you?"
"I didn't know I should." Where was he going with this?
"I doona want you to think you're unwelcome," he murmured.
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"Is that how you think of yourself, as a prisoner?" His blue eyes were intense.
"You don't?" She challenged.
"I've no' been verra welcoming, have I?" Connor shook his head to himself.
"It's okay. I know you don't like me." She shrugged, hoping he wouldn't hear the sadness in her voice. "Don't worry about it. Besides," she smiled, "I'm not cooped up in my room anymore; I get to wander around the castle now.
It's nice. I like the library." Her smile looked genuine, but it didn't meet her eyes. "But maybe I could go on walks outside?" she hinted.
He focused on the first part of her comment, "You think I doona like you?" He was surprised, but he said it softly.
"It's not a big deal. Really."
Really, it was
. She shrugged again, and looked away.
"It is to me."
She looked back at him, "Look, I understand, okay? I'm your ticket to picking a fight or whatever. That's all. I mean, you're barely civil to me, so I get it. I only hope that you will let me go after it's all over."
"You want to leave?" The surprise on his face was almost comical to Mackenzie.
"What am I going to do, stay here forever?"
"You ken I want you."
Her eyebrows flew up, surprised by his bluntness. "Yes."
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