Page 7 of A Memory Not Mine (Sanguis Amantium #1)

Chapter seven

Baird

H e’d seen Bunny dart toward the tree line after a red squirrel just moments before they returned to the SUV.

The heifer he’d been checking on in the upper valley was due to calve in the coming weeks—the last of his herd for the season—and since it was her first time, Baird was worried a cold snap might hit before the calf arrived.

She wasn’t showing the usual signs of imminent labor yet—no obvious softening of the pelvic ligaments or swelling of the udder—but he wanted to keep a close watch.

First-time mothers had a way of not playing by the rules.

When Bunny didn’t immediately return, he puckered his lips and let out a sharp, rising whistle that sliced through the quiet like a knife.

A pause, then another, shorter and more urgent.

His eyes scanned the tree line, hand cupped around his mouth instinctively, as if to carry the sound farther.

Again, he whistled. No response. That wasn’t like her—she always came when called.

A flicker of unease passed through him. Some local farmers still laid traps for badgers and foxes; he prayed she hadn’t stumbled into one while chasing the squirrel.

The thought of her caught or injured sent a tight bloom of worry through his chest. He’d had a string of dogs over the years, each with their quirks and charms, but Bunny might be his favorite.

She had an uncanny sense for his moods, always curling up beside him when he was low, offering a silent, steady comfort.

As if she were saying, I’m here. I’ve got you.

He was about to go after her when it hit him—sudden and unbidden.

Yanked from his worry about Bunny, the woman surged into his thoughts again, a cascade of images vivid enough to steal his breath.

A woman he didn’t know, yet one whose face was achingly familiar.

So beautiful that the world around him fell away.

Whisky-colored eyes fringed in dark lashes, lips full and soft—he could almost feel the memory of a kiss that had never happened.

What unnerved him wasn’t just seeing her—it was how completely the vision consumed him. This wasn’t some idle memory slipping in while he worked. No, when it came, he wasn’t present at all. Nothing else could occupy his mind while she was there for those fleeting moments.

Baird leaned against the Range Rover, bracing himself, waiting for the images to ebb.

From far off, he heard a rustle coming through the underbrush, and as his mind came back to him, he looked down and saw Bunny now at his feet, sitting quietly, gazing up at him with wordless concern.

“That’s a good lass,” Baird crooned. “I was worried about ye. Looks like ye are worried about me too.”