Page 43 of Cottage in the Mist
And yet here she was. Surrounded by his warmth. Lying on a bed that hadn’t existed in her world for hundreds of years. It was insane. It was miraculous. And she never wanted it to end.
“Are you comfortable?” His deep voice rumbled up through his chest, and she nodded, still content just to feel him breathe.
“I am. More than I think I’ve ever been. If you can believe that.”
“Aye, ’tis the same with me.” He smoothed back her hair and she tipped her head so that she could see the stark planes of his face. It would be so easy to let herself get lost in the cool blue of his eyes. It made her think of the waters of the Mediterranean Sea. Clear and deep and full of promise.
“So,” she began, “not that I’m complaining, but I thought you’d be at Duncreag. With Iain and Katherine.” The names came out almost a whisper, as somehow in saying them out loud she’d break whatever spell bound them.
“I wanted to be with you. And the cottage seemed the obvious place. But you know them both? You ken who they are?”
She nodded, lacing her fingers with his. “Katherine is like me. She traveled through time.”
“For Iain.” Bram nodded. “The two of them belong together.”
As do we. She wanted to say it but again she found she was afraid. “I’ve met her brother. Jeff. He’s the new laird at Duncreag.”
“And that’s where you’ve been staying?”
“Yes. Valerie is friends with Mrs. Abernathy. She and her husband look after Duncreag. They’ve been helping me—all of them—as I’ve been trying to make sense of things.”
“Sometimes there is no sense to be had. You just have to take it all on faith.”
“So says Mrs. Abernathy. Would that it were that easy.” She smiled up at him. “But it’s all been a lot to deal with. You. Me. The gap between your world and mine.”
“Ach, but despite the incongruity, we fit together, you and I.” He ran a hand over the curve of her breast and across the taut skin of her belly. Desire flashed, heated and strong.
“We do. At least when we’re together.”
“You said you’d been to Dunbrae.” His brows knitted together, his hand still idly stroking her skin.
“I was trying to find you. Or at least some proof that you didn’t just exist in my head.”
“And were you successful in that?”
“Yes. I mean yes and no. It was all a really long time ago.”
“In a manner of speaking.” His smile was slow and a bit crooked. Her heart hitched and her breath caught. He reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, then his expression sobered. “And my father’s holding?”
She paused, chewing on her bottom lip, her gaze locking with his. Then on a sigh, she shook her head. “There’s nothing much left. Only stones and overgrown rubble.”
He was still for a moment, and then he nodded. Accepting her words as truth. “As you say, there are many years between the two of us. I canna expect that any legacy of mine would survive forever.”
“Were there two towers when you were there?” she asked, still watching him.
He frowned. “Nay, only the one.”
“Well, there were the remains of two. One older than the other. It was the older one that gave me the vision. The one of you in danger and the tower burning.”
“That would be the bastards who attacked my father. And tried to kill me.”
“They’re the ones behind everything? Your father’s death? The men at Iain’s tower? You said it was the son of your father’s enemy.”
“Aye, Alec Comyn. He and his father have always hated me and mine.”
“And you’re sure what I saw was the past?” She swallowed a rising bubble of hysteria at the absurdity of the question.
“Mypast. Yes. And I was most certainly in danger. But I escaped. And as I said, we killed the men in the pass as well.”
