Page 42 of The Love Leap (Timeless Love Chronicles #1)
Chapter Forty
A veil of mist pirouettes over Moray Firth the morning after our wedding. The dawn breaks like a Monet masterpiece; gentle washes of light seep through our pint-sized attic window, painting ghostly silhouettes on the time-tested wooden beams above.
Cal’s bedhead hair sparkles in the day’s first light, his bare, chiseled torso etched against the tender glow. His rugged scent fills my nostrils, creating an intoxicating cocktail of safety and lust.
As he turns his head and looks at me, a warmth radiates from him that sets my heart doing a cha-cha in my chest. His hand seeks mine under the covers, and our fingers weave together like they’ve made a secret pact. It’s such a small thing, but it feels monumental.
“Mills,” Cal interrupts our snug silence with what sounds like a weighty question .
“What’s up?” I ask, a flicker of worry starting to kindle. I don’t want anything to spoil this moment.
“What on earth are we going to do while we wait for the next full moon?” He quirks a brow, then playfully yanks me back under our well-worn quilt.
The room is a testament to our recent shenanigans: half-melted candles throw weird and wonderful shapes onto the well-worn table by our bed. Their lingering lavender and bayberry scent mingles with the salty tang of the sea breeze sneaking in through the open window.
Well into the wee hours of the morning, Cal’s fingertips charted a course of yearning across my skin, each touch an unspoken promise of our shared hunger. Now, it feels like even the walls are pulsing with an unmistakable vibe of passion and closeness.
But it’s not just this emotional echo that charms this room.
From downstairs, the comforting aroma of Fi’s porridge simmering over an open hearth is seeping up through the old floorboards.
The scent is earthy but sweet, whispering stories of oats slow-cooked in creamy milk until they’re smooth as silk.
Another fragrance weaves its way into it; stronger, more commanding. The distinct perfume of tea leaves brewing in Fi’s hefty iron pot over an open fire.
This isn’t just any old cuppa; it’s my new addiction, Carstairs’ Blend—a bold mix of black teas that Fi and Fergus confessed they’ve enjoyed every morning since a wanderer and his female companion passed through Aven Valley and traded the foreign delight for a few nights at their inn.
“Hmm, I have an idea,” Cal murmurs against my collarbone before answering his own question. I’m too caught up daydreaming to respond, lost in the intoxicating scents and the feel of his lips on my sensitive skin.
“We could just spend the entire month up here, in this cozy little love nest of ours.”
“You are a delightful chaos magnet, you know that?” I say, giving him a playful nudge with my shoulder.
“Can ye blame me?” His smirk is contagious, his fingers drawing idle patterns on my skin.
“I’ve got the most stunning woman in two timelines as my partner, and an entire lifetime ahead of us to compensate for all those years we were strangers.”
“Well, when you frame it that way... nope. Can’t blame you one bit,” I tease.
Our laughter fills the room, a joyful lightness that seems to banish any lingering shadows of our past lives. As we cuddle closer, limbs tangled beneath the quilt, I marvel at how perfectly our bodies fit together.
It’s like we were destined to tumble through time together, finding not only this crazy love but also the story I was meant to write. Scotland gave me everything I came for—a plot twist I never saw coming and a love that’s the real happily ever after .
But even as I bask in the glow of our newfound happiness, there’s this niggling feeling that something more awaits us just over the horizon. Something that will test our bond and challenge us in ways we could never predict.
For now though, none of that matters. All that exists is this moment: our love and future stretching like an open highway.
Cal’s fingers trace a lazy path down my spine, sending shivers racing through my body. His touch is electric; sparking a flame that makes me want him all over again.
“Mills,” he murmurs with raw desire lacing his voice. “I still cannae believe yer mine. Completely mine.”
I look up at him through half-lidded eyes, a coquettish smile teasing the corners of my mouth.
“Yours, huh? This might be the 17th century, sailor, but I’m not some property to be claimed.”
Laughter rumbles through his chest. “My apologies, lass. Let me rephrase: I still cannae believe I’ve been granted the privilege of being stuck in time with you.”
Cal’s out cold after our latest love-making marathon.
I burrow into him, finding a cozy nook on his chest that feels like it was made just for my head.
The gentle lullaby of the ocean harmonizes with my heartbeat, conjuring a peace that’s new to me.
Past, present, future—they all blur together in this timeless sanctuary.
His body is a furnace against the nippy air sneaking in through the attic window. He instinctively pulls me closer as he shifts next to me, his arm cinching around me like a safety belt. I let out a soft giggle at his sleepy show of affection.
“What’s so funny, lass?” he mumbles, eyes still heavy with sleep.
“Just thinking how epic this has been,” I respond. “What’s next? A treasure hunt across timelines?”
“We’re only scratchin’ the surface. Who knows what surprises are waiting for us here… or what the Loch Portal holds.”
Propping myself up on my elbow, I smile at him. “As long as we keep our humor and the spark alive, I think we’ll be unstoppable.”
His blue eyes sparkle with mischief.
“Aye, maybe we can sneak in a few more… adventures… before the full moon, eh?”
“It’s us! How could we not?” I chuckle.
As I settle back on his chest with a contented sigh, I realize the truth that’s been there all along: as long as Cal and I are together, we’re already home.