Falling in Time #5
The wind felt icier now. And she was sure her imagination had kicked into overdrive but she’d swear the air smelled different. It seemed tinged with a deeper, brittle kind of cold one might expect to find in Iceland.
It was definitely a crisp, Nordic type of cold.
Lindy frowned.
She could almost taste the snow. She half expected to see little sparkly bits of frost clinging to her jacket sleeves when she looked down to examine them.
But, of course, she saw no such thing.
Yet she did see something extraordinary when she glanced up again.
Three large open-hulled boats were pulled up at the water’s edge, their elaborately carved prows and rowing oars proclaiming their identity. Not to mention their square sails, raised and ready, and the colourfully painted shields hanging along the wooden sides.
They were exquisite replicas of Viking longboats.
Lindy stared, eyes rounding.
They looked so real.
The bulky fur-wrapped packages and wooden barrels and crates crammed into the narrow space between their rowing benches looked equally authentic. Clearly provisions, the supply goods indicated that the re-enactors were about to embark on a staged journey and not a warring raid.
Only . . .
Lindy gulped.
The little group of men who came into view just then, striding down the opposite cliff path, didn’t look like modern-day men dressed up as Viking re-enactors.
They looked like the realthing.
Worst of all , one of the men near the front, leading the others down the steep cliff side, was him. The man she often dreamed of and who she’d named Lore in her romance novel, but now knew to be Rogan MacGraith.
Except – Lindy’s heart tripped – when a tall blonde-braided woman in a flowing red cape appeared at the top of the bluff, her hair and her cloak whipped by the wind, Lindy knew that the man she was staring at was named Ragnar.
In that instant, she also knew that she’d once been the woman.
She’d fall en in time, and was reliving a fatefulday that had changed her life ever after.
Tears streamed down the woman’s face and, even from here, across the cove, Lindy could see how the woman’s anguished gaze stayed pinned on the man as he strode purposely down the path, making for the longships.
He was heading to his death, Lindy knew.
She could feelthe woman’s pain clawing at her heart, ripping her soul.
“No-o-o!” Lindy wasn’t sure if she’d yelled, or if the red-cloaked woman on the other cliff top did, but the cry echoed in the cove, causing the men to pause and swing round to stare up at the woman.
Lindy watched her, too, looking on as the woman pressed a fist against her mouth and shook her blonde head as Rogan – no, Ragnar – call ed something up to her. But whatever it was, the wind took his words and Lindy couldn’t hear what he’d said.
Then he turned away again and, for an instant, his gaze caught Lindy’s. He froze, shock and recognition flashing across his face before he whipped back around to stare up at the woman on the cliff.
Only she was gone.
And before Lindy could see his reaction, he disappeared, too. His little party of men and the three beached longboats vanished as well, the entire scene erased from view as if none of it had ever been.
Yet Lindy knew it had.
She’d just glimpsed her own past.
“Oh, God!” She started to tremble. The camera slid from her hands, bounced twice, and began clattering away. “Damn!” She grabbed at it, but her foot slipped and she plunged forwards, tumbling down the remaining steps.
Blessedly, they weren’t that many, but she slammed painfully on to her knees all the same, flinging out her arms to break a worse fall . Even so, she feared the hard shingle might have cracked her kneecaps. And her hands were definitely bleeding. They hurt badly, burning like fire.
“Oh, God . . .” Shaken, she slumped against a rock just as the dog she’d seen earlier came bounding up to her, barking excitedly and wagging his tail as he scampered close to sniff at her scraped and bloodied knees.
“Snorri!” A man’s deep voice called the dog away. “Leave the lass be.”
“Oh, God,” Lindy gasped again, recognizing the rich burr. “It’s you! Lore . . . Rogan!”
And then, just as she glanced up, seeing indeed that it was him, a sea of stars flittered across her vision and the world went black.
But not before she felt strong manly arms slide protectively around her.
They were familiar arms and so dear, nothing else mattered but knowing that Rogan MacGraith was lifting her, holding her safe.
She’d come home at last.
Wherever – and whenever – that might be.
Four
Her hands were bandaged.
And – this is what really woke Lindy – someone was kissing her fingertips.
That same someone was also murmuring Gaelic love words, his breath soft and warm against her skin.
Lindy’s heart skittered and she opened her eyes, looking into the face she’d loved forever.
She knew that now, the surety of it filling her with a completeness, a sense of rightness and contentment, such as she’d never known.
At least not in the twenty-first century life she’d left behind.
That she was now somewhere else was clear.
The evidence was all around her. But most of all , she felt it inside her.
She’d been returned to a place and time she belonged, it was like nowhere else.
If she had any doubt – which she didn’t – the love shining in Rogan MacGraith’s eyes as he sat beside her on the huge medievalfour-poster bed, told her everything she needed to know.
The important things, anyway.
Such as how much she meant to him and how glad he was to see her.
That his dog – the one she’d seen below the cliffs, when she’d fall en – stood beside the bed wagging his tail and looking at her with adoration was another boon.
She was definitely welcome here.
The dog edged forwards to nudge her with his nose, proving it.
His master grinned, the sight warming her to her toes.
“Precious lass.” Rogan’s voice, so deep and deliciously burred, was even more seductive than in her dreams. “I would spare you every hurt, but if you had to fall down the cliff to come to me, then—” he kissed her hands again “—I thank the gods for the misstep that brought you into my arms.
“And now that I have you—” he reached to smooth the hair back from her face “—I would know your name at last.”
“Lindy.” She didn’t want to speak. It was bliss just to listen to his beautifulvoice. “My name is Lindy. Lindy Lovejoy.”
“Lindy.” He made her name sound like a song.
“’Tis a fitting name for one who fills my heart with such gladness.
Sakes, lass—” he took her face between his hands, kissing her soundly “—when I saw you fall , I thought I’d lost you.
To have you so close, within touching distance and then .
. .” Rather than finish, he pulled her hard against him, almost crushing her in his arms. “You are mine, Lindy. Now that you’re here, I willnever let you go. ”
Lindy almost swooned. “You won’t have to. I’m here now and I’m not going anywhere.”
She hoped that was true.
It was so hard to believe he really was holding her. Running his hands through her hair, touching her face, and – oh, joy! – kissing her.
She wasn’t dreaming.
This was real.
And – she suddenly realized – with the exception of the linen bandaging wrapped around her hands, she wasn’t wearing anything.
She was naked. Though, proving medieval gallantry, someone had taken care to cover her with a soft furred throw and a lustrous welter of silken, richly embroidered sheets.
She was also leaning back against a sea of plumped pillows.
Her comfort clearly mattered.
But her clothes . . .
They were definitely gone.
As if he’d read her thoughts, a slow, dangerously sexy smile curved Rogan’s mouth. “You couldn’t stay garbed as you were. I had to—”
“You undressed me?” She blinked. The notion both excited and embarrassed her.
“You’ll no’ deny I’ve done so before?” His smile reached his eyes, the effect positively wicked. “Many times, it’s been, aye, if I were to count.”
“I know that.” She spoke the truth. He’d undressed her a thousand times, in her dreams and fantasies. In the pages of her umpteen times rejected romance novel. And, she now suspected, he’d also done so in other lifetimes such as a Viking.
She tightened her arms around his neck, half afraid he’d disappear. “What I don’t understand is how I came to be here. How did you find me?”
He glanced at his dog. “Truth to tell, it was Snorri. He’d gone missing and when I went searching for him, I heard his barks and followed, knowing he’d be at the cave. I reached the strand just in time to see you falling.”
“You didn’t see me before?”
“Oh, aye.” He grinned. “In my dreams, nigh every night, if you’d hear how it was.”
He patted his dog’s head, scratching the beast’s ears. “You can ask Snorri. We keep no secrets from each other. He knows how I’ve pined for you.”
“That’s not what I meant.” Lindy hesitated, aware of the heat staining her cheeks.
“I know we’ve shared dreams. But there’s more.
I’m certain – ” this was so hard to say “ – we’ve shared past lives.
That we’ve always been together, but this time something went wrong.
I was born in the wrong place. Somewhere distant and far from here and impossible to reach you, until —”
“The cave brought you back to me.” He made it sound so easy.
So plausible.
Lindy frowned. “Smoo Cave? So it really is a kind of time portal? An entrance to other realms as all the lore and legend claims?”
She so wanted to believe.