Page 8 of Cottage in the Mist (Time After Time #3)

Bram lay in the stillness listening to Lily breathe. The worst of the storm had passed now, the light patter of rain against the thatched roof the only sign it had been there at all.

That and the woman in his bed.

He knew he should not have taken advantage of her.

She could not be thinking clearly after all that had happened.

And yet when she had turned to him, he could not stop himself.

Holding her had been like holding something precious.

Something that he could never replace. And he’d only wanted more.

And so when she had offered, he had accepted, meaning only to steal a kiss.

To feel her lips beneath his. But one kiss had not been enough and now—well, now he felt as hungry as before. As if there could never be enough.

Not with her. Not with Lily.

She stirred beside him, her eyes fluttering open.

“You are awake,” he said, stating a blinding glimpse of the obvious, but then she had a way of stealing his words.

She nodded and ducked her head, clearly embarrassed.

“Dinna turn from me, Lily. There is no shame here.” And as he said the words he knew that they were true. This was his woman. He knew it in his heart and in his soul. She belonged to him. And he to her.

“I’m not ashamed,” she said, offering a small smile. “Just feeling a little odd. As if I’ve woken in your arms a million times before. It’s silly, I know…”

“But ’tis the truth,” he whispered. “I feel it, too.”

She lifted her face, her eyes meeting his. “Then this isn’t a dream?”

“If it is, then I hope never to waken.” He pulled her close against him, feeling the steady beat of her heart.

They lay like that for moments or hours—time didn’t seem to matter. But then she stirred again, rolling away to prop herself on one elbow. “It isn’t fair. You know my name but I don’t know yours.”

He smiled into the darkness. “Bram Macgillivray,” he replied with a flourish of his hand. “At your service, my lady.”

Her laughter rang through the room. “Actually, I’m the one indebted to you.” Her expression sobered. “I’ve a feeling you saved my life.”

“Well, you owe me naught. I am just glad you’ve recovered. ’Tis a nasty bruise you have on your forehead. What happened to you out there?”

She shivered at the memory and he reached for her hand.

“I wasn’t paying attention, I guess. The storm had turned fierce.

Then the river rose out of nowhere and I lost control and hit a tree and slammed my head on the wheel.

But I saw the light and made my way to the cottage.

And you were here and...” She trailed off, clearly remembering exactly how that had all ended up.

“And I got you warm again,” he finished for her. “So where were you going?” He’d not ask why she’d been alone. If there was a story to tell, she’d do it in her own time. He’d not press her now.

“I was on my way to the castle when the storm hit and the river washed out.”

“The castle?” He frowned.

“Duncreag,” she replied, her pronunciation awkward. “I think you call it a tower.”

“You know Katherine and Iain, then?” The idea appealed.

If she knew his cousin then she could not have been sent by his enemies.

He hated himself for even having the thought.

Her plight had been real, that much he was certain of.

And what had passed between them this night was real as well.

He pushed his traitorous thoughts aside.

“If you mean the new laird and his wife—“ she said, thankfully unaware of the turn of his thoughts, “—then no. I don’t actually know them. My aunt—well, actually she’s my mother’s best friend—she’s the one who knows them.

Or at least some of the people that live there.

She arranged for me to come. She thought that maybe the Highlands would be good for me. ”

“And how is that turning out for you?” he quipped with a smile, his worries forgotten as his body responded to the memory of their lovemaking.

“I’d have to say that despite a soggy start, really well, so far.” Again she laughed, the joyous sound doing wonders for his tortured heart.

“And what was it that you needed to get away from?” he asked, realizing suddenly that if someone had hurt her, he’d hunt them down to the ends of the earth.

She chewed on her lip, clearly considering how much to tell him, but then she blew out a sigh. “My mother and father were killed in an accident a few weeks ago.”

This was a pain he knew only too well.

“There were complications,” she continued. “More than I could deal with actually. So Valerie, my mom’s friend, suggested I come here.”

“’Tis as good a place as any, I suppose. You’re no’ from the Highlands, I take it?”

“No.” She shook her head. “Connecticut.”

’Twas an odd word. “I dinna know it,” he said.

“It’s only a little state and it’s very far from here.” She lay back, and as she did so the silver necklace she wore slipped over her shoulder. He caught it between his fingers.

His heart twisted. ’Twas a wedding ring.

“Is this yours?” he asked, his voice so low that he feared she had not heard the question. He held his breath, waiting, praying that it wasn’t true.

“No.” She shook her head, her gaze locking with his.

“Of course not.” There was a multitude of meaning behind her denial, but for the moment he simply accepted the words for what they were, relief washing through him like the western tide.

“The ring belonged to my father.” She reached out to take it from him, her thumb caressing the silver band gently.

“My mother gave it to him when they were married. I thought if I wore it, I’d feel closer to them somehow. ”

“Your father would be honored.”

“I hope so.” Her voice was sad and a little wistful.

“I lost my father, too,” he said before he had time to think about it. He only wanted to help. To make her feel better somehow.

“I’m sorry.” She reached up to touch his face. “I wouldn’t wish that kind of pain on anyone. Was it recently?”

“Aye.” He nodded, staring at the ceiling. “’Tis been no more than a se’nnight.” He’d actually lost track of time, between running and hiding.

She frowned. “A week. Oh, Bram, I’m so sorry.” She reached for him, her voice filled with sympathy. “What happened?”

Bram swallowed, the bitterness rising in his chest. “He was murdered.”

“Oh my God. How awful.” Her fingers twined with his. “I don’t know what to say. Do you know who did it?”

“No’ for sure, but I have an idea.” The words felt ripped from his chest.

“Someone you knew then?”

“The son of an old enemy of my father’s. But he would have had to have help. Which means my father was betrayed.”

“Which makes it all the worse. It must be tearing you apart.” She pushed close, as if somehow she could wipe the agony away with merely her physical presence. And he blessed her for it, pulling her tighter against him.

“I have no’ had the time to really think it all through yet. It happened so fast. I barely got out of there alive.”

“You were there?” Her eyes widened, her fingers tightening on his arm.

“Aye. And they were coming for me next.”

“But you escaped.”

“For the moment, yes. But they know that as long as I live, I’ll seek vengeance.”

“And so this enemy wants you dead?” She frowned, a tiny line forming between her eyes. “Surely the authorities can do something.”

“Mayhap. I dinna know. That’s why I came to Duncreag. I need Iain’s help.”

“Then surely he’ll give it to you.”

“That he will. It’s just a matter of whether it will be enough. But I dinna want you to worry. And I need you to know that whatever happens, being here with you has helped me to forget—at least for a little while.”

She nodded. “Me, too. I mean, you’ve helped me too. It’s almost as if we were meant to find each other. As crazy as that sounds.”

Despite the gravity of the conversation, he laughed. “Well, if you are a wee bit daft then I must be as well.”

For a moment he simply let his mind drift, relishing the feel of her lying next to him, and then he bent his head, first kissing her eyes and then the line of her nose and the curve of her brow.

Then finally kissing her lips, the sweet intoxication almost more than he could bear.

She opened her mouth and he traced the line of her teeth with his tongue, her taste at once familiar and exotic.

He wondered if he could ever truly get enough of her. Or if he would forever be doomed to wanting more. He smiled against her mouth, realizing there were far worse fates.

There was magic in the bright green of her eyes and Bram marveled at the emotions rocketing through him.

Emotions that she inspired. There was desire, certainly, more than he had ever known, but there was so much more than that.

There was a kind of fierce possessiveness, a protective urge as old as time itself. Something he had never felt before.

And even more surprising, there was a gentle tenderness, the need to cherish and revere, the power of his need almost unmanning.

And finally, there was a selflessness as foreign to him as breathing under water.

He knew in that instant that he would give anything, do anything, if it would make her happy.

She smiled up at him, her eyes like a spring meadow. And with a groan, he captured her mouth with his, his tongue and lips communicating all that he was feeling. It was a take no prisoners kiss, both of them taking and giving.

Then he shifted, kissing her cheeks and eyes, the soft curve of her ear and the gentle slope of her neck.

He trailed kisses along the cleft between her breasts, then he pulled one swollen peak into his mouth, his tongue flicking over the taut nipple until she cried out, the sound filling him with pleasure.