“Fair enough. As long as you doona lie to me, m’dear, we’ll get on fine. If you can’t tell me what transpired last eve, then tell me why you can’t.”
That was reasonably safe. “Because I must talk to Drustan first. If, once I talk with Drustan, he chooses to, he can tell you everything.”
Silvan held her gaze, weighing her words for truth.
“ ‘Tis the nineteenth day of July,” he said finally.
About a month, Gwen thought, relieved. When Drustan had discovered that he was in the future, he said, Christ, I haven’t lost a mere moon. I’ve lost centuries. Translation: Initially he thought he had been in the cave for a month or so, which meant he’d been abducted somewhere in mid-August. He’d also said that Dageus had died “recently.” She’d had no idea how recent his grief had been and had assumed he’d meant several months or even a year ago. But apparently Dageus would die at some point in the next few weeks. She needed to know exactly when Dageus planned to leave for the Elliott’s; she had to prevent him from going at all.
“Fifteen eighteen?” She hated wasting a question, but had to be sure. Considering that Drustan had gotten the month and day wrong, she supposed it was possible he’d messed up on the year too.
Silvan’s eyes evinced utter fascination. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees and peered at her. “Where are you from?” he breathed.
She sighed and averted her gaze, half-afraid the canny man could read the answers in her eyes. She blinked, momentarily distracted by her first real look at the Greathall. When she’d come downstairs, she’d scarce seen past Drustan. The hall was elegant and lovely as her chamber had been, the floor fashioned of spotlessly scrubbed pale gray stones, the walls lined with brilliant tapestries. Two hounds snored softly beneath a large masterpiece of a table. Heavy velvet drapes were pulled back from tall paned windows, and the rosy marble double staircase gleamed in the morning light. A panel of stained glass was inset above the massive door, and silver shields and weapons adorned the walls on either side. “It’s a country you’ve never heard of,” she demurred, not about to say the good old U.S. of A. That would start a whole other conversation that could go on indefinitely.
“Tell me, or you’ll get no answers from me. Really, where you’re from can hardly be too revealing, can it, now?”
She blew out a frustrated breath. “America. Far across the ocean.”
Again, he assessed her with his steady stare. “Fifteen eighteen,” he agreed. “And I know of the Americas. We doona call it that, but we Scots discovered it centuries ago.”
“You did not,” she scoffed. “Christopher Columbus—”
“Merely followed the Sinclair’s path, after he got his hands on the old maps left to the Templars.”
“Oooh. You Scots have got to be the most arrogant—”
“What a conundrum you are proving—”
“Do you always talk over people?”
He snorted with laughter. “You do it rather well yourself,” he said, smiling and patting her hand. “I think I’m going to like you quite a lot, lass. So, when do you plan to tell Drustan, so I may hear the whole story?”
“The minute he walks in. And thanks for giving me an easy question.”
“That’s not fair, that wasn’t a—”
“Uh-uh. No way you’re reneging now. That was too a question.”
“Aye, but not really and you know it,” Silvan grumbled. He averted his nose in a snit, a flicker of admiration in his eyes. “You’re a clever lass, aren’t you, now? Next?” he said dryly.
“Is Dageus planning to take any trips soon?”
“What a very odd question,” Silvan remarked, stroking his chin. “I must say you’ve got my curiosity in quite a lather. Aye, he is to go to the Elliott’s soon. Did Drustan take your virginity?”
She blew out a breath slowly. “It’s a very complicated story,” she evaded, “and I must speak to Drustan as soon as possible. Your son is in danger. I believe he trusts you completely; however, he must decide what to tell you. I can’t say any more than that until he and I talk. Please respect that,” she added softly.
He arched a brow, but nodded.
When he took her hand between his and patted it, she felt funny inside. She couldn’t recall her own father ever doing such a thing. He held her hand for a few moments, his eyes narrowed, his expression pensive. She had the distinct, unsettling sensation that he was peering right into her soul. Was that possible? she wondered.