by Pam Binder
“You are welcome.” He pulled her closer against his chest. “What were you doing so close to the shoreline?”
She nodded to the kitten, which had opened its eyes again to stare in their direction as though it knew it was the topic of conversation. “I was trying to save that little beastie.”
The kitten let out a protesting meow, rose, stretched, and then padded over to C.C. and licked her toes. Its pink tongue was wet and as rough as fine sandpaper against her skin.
“That tickles.” Laughing, C.C. pulled her feet under the blankets before she bent to scratch behind the kitten’s ear as it settled beside her. “You’re forgiven, little one.”
“You have a forgiving heart, Cinderella Charming.”
She liked that he’d used her full name. She knew her parents had named her after the folktale character out of love. She’d forgotten that until recently. C.C. shifted under the blanket. “I don’t deserve your praise, I’m afraid. I haven’t always been so forgiving. It’s just that lately I’m remembering my mother’s sayings. I think that’s because it’s quieter in this time period. My mother had one for every occasion, like, ‘Many hands make light work,’ when she wanted all of us to help with gardening or housework, or, ‘A watched pot never boils,’ when we kept asking when dinner would be ready.”
“Do you have a favorite?”
“I’m not sure if it’s one of my favorites, but it’s the one that I can’t stop thinking about. If we were fighting amongst ourselves, as siblings sometimes do, or complaining about one of our school friends, she’d say, ‘It’s more important to let go than to hold onto the past.’ ”
“I like that.” He leaned his head against hers. The gesture felt so normal and so right. The cottage was snug and warm, and with Michael’s arms wrapped around her, she couldn’t imagine anywhere else she’d rather be. But Michael was used to living large, especially when he traveled. He’d stayed in penthouses, suites, and places that came with their own butler and cook.
“This place must seem so small and cramped to you,” she said, breaking the comfortable silence.
She felt him take a deep breath as he adjusted the blanket around her shoulders, encasing them both in its warmth. “I grew up in a place not much larger than this one,” he said. “I haven’t thought about Nana’s home in a long time. She used to like sayings, as well, and the ones you’ve mentioned are a lot like some of the ones my grandmother says. However, one of her favorites is one that’s been in my mind a lot lately: ‘Dreams become real when you share them with someone you love.’ ”
“That’s beautiful.” She turned her head to the side, trying to see his face, but it was lost in the shadows. “Your bio said you grew up in a wealthy neighborhood in California, were home-schooled by private tutors, and when your parents died, you inherited a fortune.”
“The home-schooling part was true. Nana felt the only way to keep me away from the gangs in our neighborhood was to teach me herself.”
C.C. turned in his arms. “But your bio said…”
He scrunched his eyebrows together. “There’s a lot in my bio that’s not true. But could you turn around again? You’re not wearing anything under the blankets. The tabloids may claim I’m made of stone, but…” He chuckled. “Another urban myth, by the way.” A mischievous smile played along the corners of his mouth. “I’m very human, and you’re a beautiful woman. It’s hard not to stare.”
She was mesmerized by his smile, his compliment—and then his words registered. She glanced down. The corner of the blanket had slipped dangerously low. Her face felt like it had burst into flame. She snapped the blankets higher and spun around to face the fireplace, remembering the female fans who threw themselves at him on a daily basis. Most of them were dressed in tight clothes that left little to the imagination. She didn’t want him to think she was like that. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean…”
The kitten, as though feeling C.C.’s unease, nuzzled against her leg for attention. C.C. bent down and gathered it onto her lap, processing what he’d said. She felt as though she were in a dream, where there were such things as princesses and handsome princes.
He chuckled again and sat up a little straighter. “New topic. I know you come from a big family. What was that like? I’m an only child.”
C.C. petted the kitten behind its ears, still processing what he’d said about her being beautiful. No one had called her that in her whole life. Cute, perhaps, when she was a child, but certainly not beautiful.
She kissed the kitten on the top of its head, hoping her cheeks didn’t look as flushed as they felt. “My family was middle class. My dad was an engineer for Boeing, and my mom worked as a school secretary in the high school we all attended. They were doting parents, went to all our events, from sports to spelling bee competitions to science fairs. They displayed our ribbons and trophies proudly around the house and always said we could be anything we wanted to be. I know some people like to criticize that type of parenting and say those parents are raising children who will fail because they don’t understand that the world is a harsh, unforgiving place. I disagree. We knew we were loved. I may have floundered in college, trying to find the right major, but I was grateful they never judged me. Knowing there was someone on my side who loved me, no matter what, made it feel like I really could succeed.” Her voice trailed off. “But then it all fell apart.”
He wrapped his arms around her a little tighter. “Do you mind me asking what happened?”
C.C. felt her breath catch. “My…my mother died just after my second year in college, and our father remarried four months later. That marriage didn’t last long.” She concentrated on breathing. Michael’s touch and reliving her past regrets were jumbled together. “To this day I’ve never asked what happened between my father and my stepmother. If I’m honest, I was glad when they broke up, which made me feel worse.”
He reached around to pet the kitten now sleeping on her lap. “I’m a self-proclaimed expert on the feeding and care of guilt. My experience is that it never gives you peace, only more pain. Is guilt over your father’s failed marriage the reason you don’t visit your family? You’re still mad at your dad?”
His hands looked enormous as he petted the kitten gently. He was a mixture of strength and tenderness. A warrior on the football field and yet interested in her family issues. Did Tatiana know how wonderful he was?
She leaned her head against his chest. “I know it sounds childish. I’m still trying to forgive my father, or forgive myself for waiting so long to forgive him.” She sighed. “My explanation sounds like a crazed merry-go-round.” She hesitated, then continued to answer his question with, “Yes, I’m still mad at him, and now he’s sick.”
The kitten sat up, yawned, stretched, and leapt down from C.C.’s lap and headed over to the hearth, where it walked around in a circle before curling down for another nap.
C.C. stared at it until the image blurred. “Can we change the subject? I seem to be saying that a lot lately.” But when he nodded, she asked, “Why was I chosen to be your bride? I didn’t think Tatiana’s mother liked me, and she makes all the decisions.”
“Alba doesn’t like most people, but I had the sense that she didn’t have many options, and she was in a hurry for some reason. I think Alba is more interested in Tatiana getting a speedy divorce than Tatiana is. Plus, she doesn’t consider you a threat and liked that you had zero knowledge about football. She felt it supported the story that we had nothing in common.”
He’d grown serious. The kitten had opened its eyes as though it too sensed the change. She decided that would never do. “I take notes at our meetings,” she blurted. “And I purchased the book Football for Dummies.”
He kissed her shoulder. “Yes, you did. You have a notebook full of notes, as I remember. And as for that book, I’m not sure it’s the best source. After you finished reading it, you said the game was boring.”
The warm touch of his lips on her skin lingered. The kitten had closed
its eyes, and the fire burned brighter. She laughed softly. “No, what I said was that you were boring. When you have the football, you either complete the pass or run it in for a touchdown. The opposing team doesn’t have a chance.”
He chuckled. “We should give the losing team a trophy when we win. Then they wouldn’t feel so bad.”
She elbowed him in the ribs and turned to gaze at him. “I know you’re joking, but you should see the losing team’s faces. They look so sad.”
He touched the side of her face with his fingers. “Nana was right. You have a kind heart.”
“You were getting too serious, and I wanted to lighten the mood.”
He brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Nana also says I’m too serious. A lifetime spent running from my past is to blame, I suspect.”
She turned to face him, making sure the blanket was secure. “You don’t have to tell me, but you said there were discrepancies in your bio. Did the reporters find out? Is that the real reason we had to leave?”
“It feels foolish now. Our past can define us. My father was a minor league football player. A defensive lineman. He didn’t know when to stop hitting people. He was always getting into fistfights and ending up in the hospital. That’s where my parents met. My mother was a nurse, and she was on call one night when he was brought in to the hospital. I’m not sure how long they were together, but when he found out she was pregnant, he took off. He died in a bar fight before I was born. My mother moved in with Nana but died before I learned to walk. Nana moved us to the West Coast and changed our names. My grandmother didn’t want me to be defined by who my father was and the things he’d done.”
C.C. reached up and kissed him lightly on the lips. “You are not your father.”
“Nana always says the same thing.” He cupped her face in his hands, his eyes searching hers. “Do you know the reason Tatiana’s mother doesn’t like you?”
She shook her head, hypnotized by the warmth in his eyes.
“She accused me of being attracted to you. Tatiana laughed it off as ridiculous, said you weren’t my type, and recited Alba’s belief that we have nothing in common. Did you know that your eyes are the color of gold in the firelight?”
C.C. held her breath. They were alone in a romantic setting and literally many lifetimes away from the twenty-first century and their reality. It would be so easy to close her eyes and pretend that tomorrow would never come. This was one of the flaws in living life in the moment. There had to be boundaries. She didn’t want a one-night stand, and she sensed neither did Michael. She wanted a forever after.
He was engaged to Tatiana. It was one thing to kiss at the altar as part of a script. This would be something else. She drew back, and felt him do the same. “I think I heard the church bells.”
His expression turned into an emotionless mask, as though he’d also realized they’d stepped too close to the edge. “We should head to the rendezvous point.” He cleared his throat and moved farther away. “William will be waiting. Your clothes are dry, and Fiona left a pair of boots here for you to wear. I’ll go outside and give you a chance to dress.” Michael disentangled from the blanket and left the cottage without another word.
She sat huddled in the blanket and looked over at the kitten. “What a mess.”
When Michael left, it felt as though he’d taken all the warmth in the cottage with him. Why couldn’t he be one of those guys that when you got to know them you realized they were terrible people?
One consolation was that she’d achieved her goal of making him laugh. Well, if not a full-out laugh, a chuckle, at least. Yes, clearly a chuckle. The man never cracked a smile, and yet not only was he behaving more like a human being, he had shared part of his life, a part he’d kept hidden from the world. She understood now why his nana was so protective of him and he so devoted to her. The sadness reflected in his eyes when he spoke about his parents had made her want to take him in her arms and kiss away the pain.
“Stop daydreaming,” she said aloud. “He’s marrying Tatiana. Your marriage to Michael is a fake.”
The startled kitten woke and let out a protesting meow.
C.C. gave an apologetic shrug and reached for her clothes. She slipped the gown over her head, wondering why the mental image of Michael in Tatiana’s arms made her want to throw things. But as upset as she was, she couldn’t stay mad at Tatiana. She was as much a pawn as C.C. This was all Alba’s doing. She’d placed C.C. and Michael together.
The kitten meowed again, padding over to curl around C.C.’s legs.
C.C. bent down and scratched the kitten under its chin. “I couldn’t agree more. If for some reason Alba travels back to this time, you have my permission to cough up a really big furball in her most expensive shoes.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Michael and C.C. neared the rendezvous in silence. Michael cast a quick glance over at C.C. She’d been unusually quiet, and it didn’t take a genius to understand the reason. A short time ago Fiona had joined them, along with Liam, and the two of them had said very little, as well.
There was a weight in the air that had nothing to do with the impending storm. Shadows spilled over the pathways and highlighted fallen trees. The quiet beauty quivered in the moon’s glow as though waiting for a noise to break the spell. It struck Michael that he wasn’t ready to return to his own time.
In this century, no one knew that he was a big-deal football player. The type of coffee he drank or the books he read wouldn’t make national news. True, he’d been chased and attacked. He took the blame for that. Wearing the Campbell plaid at this time and place in history was a boneheaded move.
He wasn’t looking forward to getting back to reality, despite the possible movie deal. He had been offered other movie roles before the one for Highland Rebel, everything from lone-wolf detectives to super heroes to an international spy. The only one that had interested him had been the retelling of the real life story of the Scottish hero Rob Roy.
But even that prospect had lost its shine. It was more than dealing with the press. His feelings for C.C. had deepened. He couldn’t imagine his life without her.
The snap of a twig under Michael’s boots sent birds retreating into the dark sky from the tree branches where they’d been resting. He flinched, looking toward the sky.
C.C. reached over and touched his arm. “Is everything okay?”
He wanted to pull her into his arms. Ask her to stay here with him. He couldn’t. Correction. He wouldn’t. Instead, he nodded and watched her move away to join Fiona and Liam in the clearing.
It was almost midnight. The air crackled with tension, reflecting his mood. He was in real danger, but danger of his own making. He didn’t blame C.C. for being frustrated with him at the cottage. He’d mishandled everything. He had been about to kiss her.
He knew it.
She knew it.
Even the kitten knew it.
He’d also sensed that there was a real possibility that their kiss would have led to their making love. But what would happen the next day? He knew she’d come to the same conclusion. He’d allowed his feelings for her to go too far.
He pushed the self-recriminations down and settled on the present. Focusing on the present had always served him well. He got into trouble when he dwelt too long on the past or on the future.
He stepped out of the forest into the clearing to join C.C., Liam, and Fiona under a ceiling of stars. Michael had expected to see the coach. “Shouldn’t William be here by now? Are you sure we have the right place?”
Fiona rested her hand on the hilt of her blade. “William will be here.”
“Except he’s never late,” Liam said.
Fiona’s voice was even. “William will be here,” she repeated. “He knows the consequences if we don’t make it back in time.”
“Couldn’t we take a boat to Urquhart Castle?” C.C. offered.
Liam unsheathed his sword. “Did you hear something?” He turned around slowly, peering in
to the shadows. “I swear I saw a flash of steel. Probably my imagination.” He turned to C.C. “You suggested a boat. It’s out of the question. Even if the Loch Ness Monster weren’t a factor, traveling by water would take too long. We’d never make it by midnight.”
“Out of curiosity,” Michael said, “just what would happen if we didn’t make it back by midnight?”
Liam and Fiona exchanged shadowed expressions Michael couldn’t decipher. “You don’t have to worry,” Fiona said. “William will make it here in time.”
C.C.’s mouth curved in a nervous smile. “See, Michael, we have nothing to worry about. Liam, you mentioned the Loch Ness Monster. That suggests that you believe Nessie is real. I know this sounds crazy, but when I fell into the river, it felt as though something kept me afloat until Michael reached me.”
“Oh, aye,” Liam said. “I believe in everything. That is what keeps me alive.”
The two of them continued to discuss sightings of Nessie throughout history. Normally, Michael would have been intrigued. Not this time. Two points stood out for him. The first was that as improbable as it seemed, something had helped keep C.C. safe until he could rescue her. He vowed never to make fun of the belief in Nessie again. And the second was that he knew by the tone of C.C.’s laughter that she was as on edge as the rest of them. She was using stories of Nessie to distract everyone from dwelling too long on what could be keeping William.
****
“Can we talk?”
Michael recognized the tone in C.C.’s voice and the significance of those three words. Never in the history of relationships did what happened after they were spoken turn out well.
He nodded, bracing himself.
She blew on her hands. “Waiting for William to arrive is making me more nervous.” She motioned for him to follow her a short distance from Fiona and Liam.
The dappled glow of moonlight filtered through a canopy of trees as C.C. turned toward him, hands on hips. “We should discuss what will happen when we return.”
“What if William doesn’t make it here before midnight?”