Next Time #4
She nodded. “Not here on Skye, to Sligachan. I wanted to see the Cuillins. I used to climb, and …” She shrugged again.
“The pictures I saw of their dark peaks called to me. I know they’re not the tallest or most challenging, but …
they spoke to me. And when I saw this castle, found it had been turned into an inn …
I don’t know. I felt drawn here, compelled somehow. ”
“Is it what you’d hoped? Being here?”
She nodded, her smile spreading slowly. “More so all the time.”
His lips twitched, but there was still such sadness in his eyes, and she hated that.
“Tell me,” she said, “why you’re sad for yourself.”
He paused, looked down, then seemed to take stock as he looked at her again, always with that direct, steady gaze that reached so far past the surface. Or so it felt. She couldn’t have said why, but there was no denying the connection she was feeling with him.
“I’ve been here many times,” he began, then paused, but went on again before she could comment.
“I’ve seen, and been seen, by any number of people.
” He leaned just a fraction closer, but it felt as if he’d somehow pushed deeply into her personal space, so probing was his gaze.
“You were the first one I wanted to be seen by. The first one who made me look back.”
His gaze was so intent, there was such …
specificity in his tone, it made her breath catch and her throat tighten.
“Why?” she managed. “Why me?” She knew herself to be nothing special, at least outwardly.
She wasn’t memorable in that striking way some people had.
Her charisma was more subtle and quiet. Someone had to take the time to get to know her, to appreciate her.
To remember her. He’d had but an instant, the span of a gaze – however heated it felt on her end – to look at her.
And that was it. How could she matter to him?
And, why did it matter so much to her?
“I dinnae rightly know,” he said, which should have deflated her hopes entirely.
Only it didn’t, because he went on to say, “I only knew that I wanted to talk to you, listen to you, know you, somehow … It felt important, vital. Urgent, even. Like … I couldn’t miss the opportunity.
” He trailed off then, and glanced away.
“Ye must think me deranged. I’m talking like a mad man. ”
“I thought you were a ghost inhabiting a tower ruin, so there isn’t much you could do to unnerve me beyond that.”
He glanced up then, a definite flash of a smile curving his lips. “I suppose you have a point. Well, I can assure you I willnae keep ye here beyond what you’re willing to stay. And that my desires, while not entirely under my control, are not mad in any way that presents any danger to you.”
“Pity,” she said, shocking even herself with the clearly intoned entendre.
His gaze caught hers squarely again and, in the moment that immediately followed, there was a shift in the air between them.
And she felt like she went from being curious specimen to …
desirable woman. At least, that was how she was interpreting the sudden flare in his eyes, the way his jaw tightened, and his body leaned further forward, seemingly of its own volition. Wishful thinking, perhaps, but …
She was leaning forwards, too, before she could give it any thought, or save herself the embarrassment if she’d misread him. But her heart was pounding so hard she couldn’t focus her thoughts, could only act. She’d think on it later.
He slid forward off the stool to his knees beside the low bed frame. He took her hands into his, and they were broad, and strong, and so warm. “I’m supposed to be the ghost, and yet it’s you who’re haunting me.”
“Calum, I—” She didn’t know what to say. Her entire body yearned to feel … something more. To feel … him.
He tugged her hands and she lowered her knees, let her feet slide off the edge of the bed. He rose just enough to move in and, letting go of her hands, slid his arm once again under her legs, bracing the other at her back.
“What are you—?”
“Just … let me,” he said, quietly. “Please.” He shifted his weight to the bed, and settled her securely across his lap.
“Abby, I don’t know you,” he said, as he tucked her in there, in his arms, against his chest, “and yet, the thought of losing you is – I canno’ stand the thought of it.
” He cupped her cheek, drew her face up so he could look into her eyes. “How is that possible?”
She was living a dream now, surely she was.
Once again the pain receded and she felt nothing but an infusion of warmth …
even to the point of heat. Flaring in her belly, clenching the muscles between her thighs, making her nipples ache.
Mercifully, for once, it had nothing to do with her weakened condition.
In fact, it made her feel all too vital and alive, experiencing such an intensely female response.
She lifted a shaky hand to his face, her need for him spiking more sharply with the feel of his warm skin brushing her palm, the slight roughness of his cheek. “So real,” she said. “But this can’t be. Any of this,” she said, making a short gesture to the room around her. “Can it?”
“Abby, I—”
“I’m dreaming this, aren’t I?” she said, hoping to never wake up.
He turned his cheek, so his lips brushed across her palm. “I canno’ explain this,” he murmured against her skin, then shifted his face so their gazes met once again. “But … I can explain myself. How I’m here. Why I’m here.”
She traced her fingertips along his jaw. “Not a ghost,” she said, seeing the truth of it already in his eyes even before he shook his head. “Then … what?”
“A traveller,” he said, then, after a long pause, added, “through time.”
Five
Calum held her gaze, and tried not to think of the possible catastrophic events he could, right then, be putting into motion, by revealing the truth.
By touching her, holding her, wanting her.
The strength of it was beyond anything he should rightfully be feeling, and yet, that didn’t change the fact that he was.
As was she, if the look in her eyes was anything to go by.
Was that what had drawn him here so many times, through so many years?
Could there have been something to all the fanciful tales the locals had dreamt up, about a man haunting the cliffs, looking for his one and only?
So ludicrous and simple-minded, he’d thought …
and yet, looking into the lovely face of this total stranger, and feeling a pull so strong it was impossible to deny, a sadness so profound over the sense that he’d finally found her, only to so cruelly have her taken away from him forever …
what else could explain such depth of emotion?
But what was he to do about it? What could he do?
As yet, he hadn’t impacted anything, changed anything, had he? By her own admission, she wasn’t long for this world, so whatever interaction he had with her, wouldn’t change that outcome, or her, in any way.
Would it?
“Through … time?” she said, echoing his words, searching his face.
How was it he’d thought her plain or nondescript?
Her eyes were such a soft grey, like the feathers of a dove, and he already knew they could be so serious, or probing, or sweet and smiling.
Her mouth was wide, with lips a little plump and soft, and made her face so expressive, whether she was smiling or biting that bottom lip in pensive thought.
He’d known her for the breadth of a mere moment in time, and yet he knew each and every one of those expressions would be indelibly etched in his mind, in his memory, forever.
“Aye,” he said, trying to focus on what he wanted her to know, and how to explain himself. And not on how badly he wanted to spend whatever time they had together doing anything but talking. “We’ve learned, in future years, how to manipulate the time-space continuum.”
“How far in the future did you—?” She had to stop and clear her throat, but he appreciated how hard she was working to keep calm, respond rationally, to what had to sound like the lunatic rantings of a man who’d gone raving bonkers.
“A few centuries. Five, actually, give or take.”
Her eyes widened. “And you can just, what, pop in and out, like—”
“It’s no’ so simple as that, and no’ everyone has the knowledge. It’s a relatively new science to us and … very guarded. Very … controversial. No’ everyone feels as I do – we do – about its use or potential.”
“Why? Could anyone do it? If they knew how? I could see how that would be chaotic. Can you control, precisely, when and where you … um, land?”
“It’s relatively controlled, but no, no’ everyone could do it.
The science behind it must be understood, handled properly.
We’ve learned how to destruct and reconstruct particles, so that …
” Calum paused, shook his head. He shouldn’t have done this.
It was too much, and too risky. There were rules in place, boundaries never to be crossed, and they stood for a reason.
“Particle theory. Is that how you’ve manipulated these things into this space, into what is, otherwise, an empty tower?”
“Some of it is that, aye, some of it is time and space manipulation.”
“So,” she said, and he could see she was struggling to keep her wits about her. “The ghostly visits here. You’ve come here before, then. During different times.”
He nodded. “I’m no’ haunting the tower, no, but it was simpler to allow others to believe I was.”
“But why come here at all? Is this where you’re from in the future?” She closed her eyes briefly.
“Abby,” he said, instantly alarmed. “Are you alright? Are you in pain? What can I—”