Page 29 of Madly Deeply

"It does?”

"Aye. Ye cannae be a farmer, let alone a Scot, and not see miracles at every turn. Just the Lord workin’ in mysterious ways, isnae it?” His eyes held hers. "Never touched me personally until...until I caught sight of a black-haired lass waiting for the loo on an airplane."

He gave her an unexpected wink, checked once more that she was okay, then left as suddenly as he'd arrived.

When the front door closed with a snap, Alexandra turned to Spreag, who still stood by the window. "How can you just stand there while another man hits on your wife?"

"Is that what he was doin'?" Spreag's mouth quirked up at one corner. "I thought he was just bein' a good neighbor. Wasn’t listenin’ close. Next time, I promise to be more dutiful."

Her anger drained away and along with it, her energy, so she collapsed back onto the window seat. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have--"

"Nay." He came closer until his toes nearly touched hers. "Ye needed to say it. I've been waitin' for it, truth be told." He sighed. "I did choose, love. I chose to save lives, knowing it would cost me everything. Including ye." His voice roughened. "But I also tried to leave ye with something of myself. Someone who would love ye as I do."

Fresh tears spilled and her hand moved to her stomach. "I do understand why you went. I do. I just..." She met his eyes. "I miss you so much. I thought having you with me would be as good as having you completely."

"I know, my love." He reached for her, then let his hand drop. "I do know."

Outside, a door closed softly. Through the window, she could see Callum standing on his porch, looking up at the stars. She wondered what kinds of magic he'd really seen, what made him so quick to believe.

"You win," she said. "I'm going to bed."

His eyes crinkled at the corners. "About time, woman."

As she climbed into bed, she felt lighter. The argument had cleared the air between them, letting go of words that had been poisoning her for a long time. She still ached for his touch, but the bitterness had faded.

They were taking it one day at a time. And maybe one day, that ache would fade too.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Ahowl pierced the darkness, jolting Alexandra from sleep. For a moment, she thought she'd dreamed it. Then it came again—a sound of pure misery.

"Spreag?" She fumbled for the bedside lamp.

"Aye, love. I hear it." His form shimmered near the window. "Sounds like it's coming from the yard."

Another howl, followed by what might have been cursing.

"Go see what it is, would you?" She pulled a robe on over her t-shirt and Spreag's boxers. "Make yourself useful."

"Make myself useful?" He pretended offense. "I'll have ye know I'm very useful."

"Hurry!" she hissed.

He disappeared, then reappeared, sober and worried. "It's Callum. He's in his kitchen, and he's in a bad way."

"What kind of bad way?"

"The kind that comes from gardenin' in the desert sun with yer arse on display." Spreag rolled his eyes. "Hurry, love. He needs help."

"He's sunburned his butt? Are you sure you want me to see that?" She slipped her feet into sturdy slippers, intending to help no matter what.

"Maybe not his arse, but close to." He followed her out the door.

The side porch light was on. The kitchen window was open, and another groan filtered out.

"Hello?" She knocked softly. "Callum? Are you okay?"

"Alexandra?" His voice was strained. "I'm fine. Just a wee...Gah!"

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