highlander. It’s a fantasy and made in 1986. Just go with it. Movies are meant to allow one to escape, enter a make-believe world, and enjoy the journey.” Slipping the disc in the machine, she stood and joined him on the sofa. “Sure you don’t want any snacks? People usually eat when they watch movies.”
Cailin grinned. “Nay, lass. The wonderful dinner filled me to the brim.”
Skye clicked the remote and snuggled into Cailin’s warm strength. With her legs curled, she leaned on his chest as he put his arm around her.
As the movie progressed, Skye received more enjoyment out of Cailin’s reactions than she did the movie itself.
“I’ve met a Spaniard. He dinna sound like that.”
“He’s played by Sean Connery, a Scotsman. He never bothers to hide his accent in any movie.”
“So the highlander is played by a Frenchman, and the Spaniard who is Egyptian is played by a Scot. Bluidy hell.”
Skye couldn’t help but laugh and hug him tight. “That’s the movies. It’s all make-believe.”
When the movie came to the flashback scenes of Connor MacLeod in Scotland, he leaned forward, his elbows on his knees.
“I can almost smell the cold, Highland air, and hear the heather as it’s shaken by the breeze.” She heard Cailin take a sharp inhale of breath. “’Tis just like my village, only we no longer live in mud huts. Oh Skye, the beauty of it, the wildness. What I would give to show my land to you.”
Cailin reacted to the movie. He was thoroughly entertained. When the end credits rolled, he kissed her on the forehead.
“Thank you for showing me this movie. ’Twas very good. I liked it.”
“You said you were in a battle, holding the sword, when you lost consciousness. There were guns by 1814. Why weren’t you using those? Didn’t you have them?”
“Aye, we used them for hunting. Muskets take too long to load and prime; in battle we use swords in the old way of things. I take it guns have been improved upon.”
Skye snorted. “You don’t want to know. What about bows and arrows?”
Cailin raised an eyebrow. “Only a Sassenach—an Englishman—would use a bow, and even they haven’t for centuries.”
She flushed in embarrassment. She really knew nothing about the time he came from. “Oh.”
“Can you bring the sword to me, Skye?”
Rising from the sofa, she walked to the door where it leaned against the wall. She handed it to Cailin.
He pulled it out of its scabbard with a sharp, drawn-metallic ring. Cailin deftly balanced the weapon on the back of his hand, and in a fluid motion, gave it a slight toss in the air only to have it land in his rigid palm. He then swung it, making an impossibly small figure eight in the air, and again, gave it a flip to land on his hand in a perfect position. Not once did he look at the weapon. The blade was an extension of the warrior he was. Skye noted as Cailin did this, his eyes burned with a fierce, marshaled pride. His long fingers passed over the etchings on the blade.
“My family’s motto: ‘we live in hope.’ ’Tis in Gaelic. ’Twas the language of our village, but Da believed his children should learn to read and write and speak the English. We were taught by the priest in the village, a learned man who’d traveled far and seen much. I even learned to speak Latin and read it, too. Honor ruled our lives. Da gave me this no’ long before the battle. He told me a fantastical tale, that the jewel was enchanted. I thought ’twas nonsense he spoke; now I know Da spoke the truth.”
His fingertip swirled around the green jewel’s surface. “We were both holding the sword when the exchange happened. Mayhap if we both held the sword again, we would switch back.”
Skye’s insides twisted. Switch back ? Was it selfish of her to want Cailin to stay? Forever? Yeah, it was. What about Roderick? Could he be running through the misty moors in a kilt at this very moment? He’d be lost in that time. Anyone from 2013 would be.
“Cailin,
Cailin grinned. “Nay, lass. The wonderful dinner filled me to the brim.”
Skye clicked the remote and snuggled into Cailin’s warm strength. With her legs curled, she leaned on his chest as he put his arm around her.
As the movie progressed, Skye received more enjoyment out of Cailin’s reactions than she did the movie itself.
“I’ve met a Spaniard. He dinna sound like that.”
“He’s played by Sean Connery, a Scotsman. He never bothers to hide his accent in any movie.”
“So the highlander is played by a Frenchman, and the Spaniard who is Egyptian is played by a Scot. Bluidy hell.”
Skye couldn’t help but laugh and hug him tight. “That’s the movies. It’s all make-believe.”
When the movie came to the flashback scenes of Connor MacLeod in Scotland, he leaned forward, his elbows on his knees.
“I can almost smell the cold, Highland air, and hear the heather as it’s shaken by the breeze.” She heard Cailin take a sharp inhale of breath. “’Tis just like my village, only we no longer live in mud huts. Oh Skye, the beauty of it, the wildness. What I would give to show my land to you.”
Cailin reacted to the movie. He was thoroughly entertained. When the end credits rolled, he kissed her on the forehead.
“Thank you for showing me this movie. ’Twas very good. I liked it.”
“You said you were in a battle, holding the sword, when you lost consciousness. There were guns by 1814. Why weren’t you using those? Didn’t you have them?”
“Aye, we used them for hunting. Muskets take too long to load and prime; in battle we use swords in the old way of things. I take it guns have been improved upon.”
Skye snorted. “You don’t want to know. What about bows and arrows?”
Cailin raised an eyebrow. “Only a Sassenach—an Englishman—would use a bow, and even they haven’t for centuries.”
She flushed in embarrassment. She really knew nothing about the time he came from. “Oh.”
“Can you bring the sword to me, Skye?”
Rising from the sofa, she walked to the door where it leaned against the wall. She handed it to Cailin.
He pulled it out of its scabbard with a sharp, drawn-metallic ring. Cailin deftly balanced the weapon on the back of his hand, and in a fluid motion, gave it a slight toss in the air only to have it land in his rigid palm. He then swung it, making an impossibly small figure eight in the air, and again, gave it a flip to land on his hand in a perfect position. Not once did he look at the weapon. The blade was an extension of the warrior he was. Skye noted as Cailin did this, his eyes burned with a fierce, marshaled pride. His long fingers passed over the etchings on the blade.
“My family’s motto: ‘we live in hope.’ ’Tis in Gaelic. ’Twas the language of our village, but Da believed his children should learn to read and write and speak the English. We were taught by the priest in the village, a learned man who’d traveled far and seen much. I even learned to speak Latin and read it, too. Honor ruled our lives. Da gave me this no’ long before the battle. He told me a fantastical tale, that the jewel was enchanted. I thought ’twas nonsense he spoke; now I know Da spoke the truth.”
His fingertip swirled around the green jewel’s surface. “We were both holding the sword when the exchange happened. Mayhap if we both held the sword again, we would switch back.”
Skye’s insides twisted. Switch back ? Was it selfish of her to want Cailin to stay? Forever? Yeah, it was. What about Roderick? Could he be running through the misty moors in a kilt at this very moment? He’d be lost in that time. Anyone from 2013 would be.
“Cailin,
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