Page 77 of Beyond Dreams

“Lass?” Graeme called, believing she’d swooned.

She had not swooned, as evidenced in the next second, when she opened her eyes and let out a blood-curdling scream, her pretty mouth yawning wide.

Graeme released one of her hands to clap his over her mouth. She twisted her face left and right, but he was able to keep her mouth covered.

“Bluidy vixen. I’ve said I’d nae harm ye. Dinna shriek again or I’ll be stuffing your mouth with—dinna scream!” He finished harshly, unable to threaten what was natural, what he’d have promised if it had been a man who dared—to stuff his fist in their mouth.

A pair of wide and startling blue eyes stared back at him, suffused with fright.

“Will you scream?” He pressured.

The face beneath his hand moved back and forth.

“Will you murder me?” She asked straight away when he removed his hand.

Before he thought better of it, to use her fear as an impetus to garner her assistance, Graeme frowned at her, nearly offended by the query. “I’ll nae kill you. I’ll keep the sword sheathed.”

She shook her head frantically, her lip trembling. “You could snap my neck with your bare hands. You could rape me—”

Graeme took particular offense to that. “I’m nae a MacHeth.” With that, he gruffly rolled off her and stood up. He reached his hand down to her.

She ignored it, sitting up without assistance, but she did not get to her feet. “You’re...I don’t know what you are, but I think you need medical attention.”

“I need to get back to my time.”

“What? I don’t know what that means. I can’t help you, buddy.” She lifted both hands, showing him her palms.

“I’m afraid, lass, that you and I have no choice. I will require your aid.”

Her brow wrinkled. She appeared now more incredulous than frightened. “You can’tmakeme help you.”

No, he really couldn’t. But she didn’t know that. “What do you fear most, death or violation?”

She gasped, the fear returned. “You’re a monster.”

“Choose,” he snapped at her.

“Either. Both,” she blurted.

“Verra well. Then either or both it shall be if you dinna give me aid.”

Now she scrambled to her feet, brushing at her bottom, drawing Graeme’s attention to the slim silhouette of her legs in the black trews. “Help you do what?” She asked.

“Get back to my time,” he growled, returning his gaze to hers. “As I’ve said once already.”

“I don’t understand. What does that mean—your time?”

He couldn’t make her understand, not without the aid of others, as he’d been made to understand in the company of all those who’d lived through just this—bloody time-travel.

“Did you see me arrive?” He wondered.

“What? No. I just rode up—on my bike, which you’ve now broken—and you were lying there. I thought you were dead. But I couldn’t get a signal and you...I’m sorry, I can’t help you. Please don’t kill me.” She took one step backward.

Graeme took one step forward. “You can, lass. My apologies, for frightening you. But I fear I’ve no choice but to insist that you can and you will help me.”

“You know what?” She said, crossing her arms over her chest. “Just kill me now. I’m well aware of all the girls missing from the Highlands over the past few years. You’re the one, aren’t you? You’re a serial killer. You’ve taken them, have them imprisoned somewhere? Are they all dead now? And I’m next? Well, I won’t be shoved into some ventless cellar and used for your sick, sexual gratification—”

“What is this you’re bleating about?”

---