Page 22 of Madly Deeply

"Alexandra Tulloch, ye will listen to me, and ye will take me at my word, do ye hear? Our love will see us through this. If ye believe nothin' else, believe that." He reached for her stomach, but before completing the action, he slowly drew his hand back. "Believe I love ye. Believe that our bairn will be hale and healthy. And put yer worries aside for the babe's sake. Can ye do that?"

She took a deep breath, then another. Then nodded. "I can do that."

"And I swear," he said, his voice rough with emotion, "I swear upon everything I am, everything I've ever been, I will never truly leave ye."

The city lights burned like the tears she couldn't wipe away. Red rocks and ancient symbols surrounded them, testament to both permanence and loss. Generations of peoples had come and gone from this mountain, leaving only shadows of their presence behind. Just like Spreag, in June, would likely leave her behind, whether he could admit it or not.

It was so unfair. She wished they'd never called for those witches to join them for breakfast. Then she could look forward to the day her baby would be born...instead of dreading it.

If Loretta was right, she'd be trading the sound of one voice for another.

She pressed her fingers against the cooling glass of the window. The desert wind buffeted the car, and an image inserted itself into her brain--of that same wind passing through Spreag, shattering him, then scattering him like a mist as she tried to catch him and put him back together again. She couldn't help but wonder if the vision was a symptom of her greatest fear...or if it was a peek at the future, a result of Spreag's blood in her veins.

Was that what it was like, not knowing for sure?

If so, she could almost forgive him for taking that trip, taking that chance.

Almost.

She turned on the engine and headed back to the road, terrified. Spreag’s assurance was too vague to help. Their love would see them through…what?

How many more sunsets did they have left?

How much longer before the magic failed?

CHAPTER TWELVE

To chase away the morning chill, Alexandra pulled her cardigan closer and stepped out her front door to soak up the sun rising cheerfully in the east. The limes and lemons were already maturing, and a few weeds had managed to push through the decorative gravel, but overall, Mr. Tenbury had kept his word about watching over things.

"Best go thank the man properly," Spreag said from somewhere behind her.

She nodded, heading for the neighbor's door. The weed warrior's truck wasn't in the drive, but his porch light was on. Before she could knock, the door opened.

"Queen Matilda!" The tall redhead from the plane filled the doorway, his curls loose around his shoulders. "How in heaven's name did ye find me?"

Alexandra blinked, caught off guard by the coincidence. "I...live next door." She pointed at her house. "I was looking for Mr. Tenbury."

"I dinnae ken who owns the place, but I'm lettin' it through 'til Christmas." His eyes sparkled with genuine delight. "Small world, aye? I was told the woman next door was a widow..."

"Yes." She swallowed hard. "My husband died in Scotland."

The sparkle dimmed to sympathy. "I'm that sorry to hear it. Alexandra, isn’t it? Must have been a recent loss?"

She nodded, not trusting her voice, and started backing down the stairs.

"Well then." He stepped onto the porch. "I'm Callum Fraser, and I'm here soaking up the warmth before winter hits hard back home. If ye need anything at all..."

"Thank you, but I'll be fine." She started to turn away.

"Wait!" He jogged down the steps. "I've been tryin' to figure out the bloody grill, and I've got steaks that need cookin'..." He stopped short, horror dawning on his face. "Auch, that came out wrong. I meant to ask ye to dinner, not ask ye to cook."

Despite herself, Alexandra smiled. "Either way, I have to decline. But thank you."

"Right. O' course." He raked his fingers through his red curls. "I'm sorry about earlier, by the way. About comparing ye to a ewe."

"A what?"

"A ewe. E-W-E. A sheep!"

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