“I’ll always love you.” She would, she realized. There would never be another man for her. She wanted to weep at the knowledge. “I will never feel this way for anyone else.”
“That is all I can ask,” he said rhythmically smoothing her hair. “All I could hope for, my darling.”
Darkness grabbed at her mind, it swirled her around and around....
* * *
She jerked fully awake. Cracked one eye open. Daylight. Streaming in from the window, into her cave. She felt nauseous. Giddy.
Memories flooded in. It had to be the wine she had drunk. She hoped.
Slowly, so as not to feel worse, she turned her head. No large male met her gaze. Just a smooth white pillow on the other half of the bed. Had it all been a dream?
The silk sash of her pj’s tied to her wrist said it wasn’t. She picked it up and held it to her nose. Was it only imagination or could she smell his scent in that tiny fragment of fabric.
She sat up. No candlesticks, no tapestries. An electric lamp hogged the bedside table. An alarm clock and phone stared at her from beside the packets of coffee. Just as they should, and yet it was terribly wrong. Nothing had changed from when she went to sleep. Nothing but her.
Sorrow filled her chest. Loneliness rose up to claim her as she realized a part of her was missing. The part she’d given to him. Her heart.
She half-smiled. She hoped he’d kept it close.
She climbed out of bed and went to the window. The damned car sat in the courtyard as if it had never heard of a horse. Bloody horseless carriage. Beyond it lay the loch and the purple hills. No sign of mist today.
What must he have thought of her strange tales? Oh, God. Was he even real? Was it all in her imagination? The fae loved to play jokes. He’d said so. And she knew it.
If only she’d stayed with him. But how could she, even if she’d had the choice? To remain in a time when women were no more than chattels. He wouldn’t have treated her that way, a small voice whispered. But others would, she replied. She’d have grabbed someone by the short and curlies and been locked up before she could shout “Rights for women.” No. She’d done the right thing.
For her. But what about him?
She turned away from the window. And saw it. The picture. Her mouth dried. Her heartbeat died in her throat. The scene was the same as last night, a view over the loch, the same one as she’d just been admiring through the window, but in the foreground stood Gavin in all his glory. Beautiful. Rugged. A pagan in his kilt, with his sword slung over his back. He hadn’t been there last night. This had changed.
Perhaps the hotel would let her buy the picture.
She reached up and traced the painted line of his strong jaw. Had he been there last night and she just hadn’t notice? Had she simply dreamed about the man in the picture? No. She refused to believe it. She would remember if he’d been part of that scene.
Last night had not been a dream. She would not allow it.
She glanced down at the words below the painting. They, too, had changed. Last night where there had been only a sentence, now there was a paragraph.
“Gavin MacIver last seen with his mistress by his cousin, the Laird Duncan, during a raid by British soldiers. He was later seen by one of the wall guards walking into the loch. It is assumed they had some sort of argument, though the lady denied any knowledge of him ever being in her room. The laird had the loch dragged for signs of his body, but it was never found, nor was he ever seen again. Only one of the many mysteries of the castle.”
She sank down onto the sofa, her hand pressed to her mouth. No. No. Oh, Gavin. No. Nausea rolled in her stomach, rose in her throat. She raised her gaze to meet those wonderful sapphire eyes.
“No,” she said out loud. “How could you? You would have known I’d find out. Oh, God.” She collapsed on the edge of the bed.
What had she done? She should have stayed. Her heart had told her to stay. The piece of her soul she’d left with him had crumbled to dust and what was left hurt so much she wanted to rip it out of her chest.
Could she go back somehow? Tonight? Would she be too late?
Noises from an adjoining room intruded. The sound of water running.
A deep voice howled then cursed. In her bathroom.
What new surprises did this deceitful castle have in store?
Heart pounding, she tiptoed up the steps to find the door ajar. She thrust it back, ready to yell blue bloody murder. It crashed against the white ceramic tile and rebounded, nearly hitting her in the face. But that wasn’t what had her jaw on her chest. It was the large male figure walking out of the mist toward her in naught but a white towel and a grin, shaking one of his hands in pain.
“Gavin?” She flung herself at his strong gorgeous bod. He staggered, but caught her fast against his chest, his heart beat a steady rhythm against her ribs, his heat radiating against her skin.
“What?” she squealed. “How?”
She touched his cheek, pulled at his hair. He was real. “It is you.”
“Aye,” he said, his voice a little hesitant. “I hope you do not mind.”
“Mind? I thought...” She glanced over at the picture. “Never mind what I thought. How can this be?”
“I told you my mother was touched by the fae.”
She nodded.
“Well, I learned a bit at her knee. The words we spoke last night... The tie between us...” He opened his hands with a shrug. “I wasn’t sure... But it worked.”
“I might have stayed in your time.”
“Would it have been so bad?”
“No,” she whispered. “When I woke up this morning, I wished I had.” Her voice thickened. “I wanted...”
He pulled her close, hugging her in his strong arms. “No tears, my love,” he murmured into her hair. “I bound us with words from my heart, love, and an item from your time. I wasn’t sure it would work, but I hoped. If I’d bound us by something from my time, I think you would have stayed with me. After what you said, I could never separate you from your family.”
“It’s too far out, but I’m so blindingly happy, I don’t care.”
He looked exceedingly pleased with himself. “Aye. Perhaps you could explain about the hot water. You were right. It comes out of the wall. I burned my hand.”
“Why didn’t you ask?”
“It goes against the grain to be beholden. I’ll not be asking you for every mortal thing.”
“But there’s so much for you to learn.” She looked up into his serious face with a frown. “How will you manage?” She winced. “There are all kinds of things I didn’t tell you about. Electric lights. Trains. Television. The internet. You are going to have to keep an open mind and you are going to have to ask or end up a terrible mess.”
“Hmpf. Well, there’s one thing I’ll not be needing. I brought some gold. Not a lot mind. Enough to buy a smallholding. I’ll offer my sword arm to the king.”
She swallowed the protest. He would soon learn that owning a farm was not the way to go these days. Nor was hiring out a sword. What would a man like him do for a living?
She glanced around. “How did you bring gold? You don’t seem to have brought anything else. There was no sign of anything. Not even an article of clothing. Which meant she’d have to find him something more than a towel to wear.
“I buried it a little way out in the loch, just before dawn.”
That explained the picture and the words beneath.
“If luck is with us,” he went on, “it will still be there. About a thousand pound, it was.”
“In gold?” Her voice squeaked.
He nodded.
“Well, that means you are a very rich man indeed.” Which solved any number of problems.
He grinned. “I thought it might come in handy. I buried my sword, too.”
“It will make a nice souvenir.”
He frowned.
“Men don’t use swords to settle arguments anymore. And Scotland is no longer at war with England. Or anyone else. So you can hang it on your wall.”
“Our wall,” he growled.
She flung her arms around his neck. “All right. Our wall. Oh, Gavin, I can’t believe this. I’m so happy.”
“Me, too, lass. Now, will you show me how to work this miracle bathing machine so I don’t burn myself?”
“I’ll not only show you how it works, I’ll join you in it.”
“Ah. Now, that sounds like a very good idea, love.”
Love. Something she’d given up on.
She stood on tiptoe and kissed his lips. “I love you.”
“Aye, well I’m right glad about that, ’cause we are bound together forever.”
At her frown, he grimaced. “You see, the binding and the words we said cannot be taken lightly. The fae are very particular about who they gift. I took a chance on your love.”
Hers. Forever. How about that? After one sleeze-bucket of a fiancé, Moirag found she didn’t mind the idea at all.
“Bound together by love,” she said. “I can’t believe you did it.”
“My heart knew it had found what it sought all along. True love. The fae did the rest.”
She flung her arms around his neck, felt his heat and his strong body against hers and wanted to shout for joy. “I can’t wait to take you to meet my family.”
“Aye. I’ll need to ask your father for your hand.”
A laugh bubbled up in her chest. “Oh, he’ll like that.” He would, too, the old-fashioned fart. “And mother will take one look at you and be thrilled.”
Gavin raised a brow. “You are scaring me.”
“I mean it. You’ll see.” She raised herself on tiptoes and dropped a kiss on his lips. “First, let’s have this shower.”
He let the towel fall with a grin. “I can’t wait.”
She laughed. “You don’t have to, love. Time is on our side.”
* * * * *
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ISBN: 978-14603-1095-3
In Bed with the Highlander
Copyright © 2013 by Michèle Ann Young
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In Bed with the Highlander Page 6