Falling in Time (4 page)

Worst of all, one of the men near
the front, leading the others down the steep cliffside, 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 blond-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 fallen in time, and was
reliving a fateful day 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 feel the woman’s pain
clawing at her heart, ripping her soul.

“No-o-o!" Lindy wasn’t sure if
she’d yelled, or the red-cloaked woman on the other cliff-top, 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 blond head as Rogan
– no, Ragnar – called 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 hers. 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
forward, tumbling down the remaining steps.

Blessedly, they weren’t that many,
but she slammed painfully onto 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 him 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.

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
medieval four-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 fell – stood beside the bed wagging his tail and
looking at her with adoration was another boon.

She was definitely welcome here.

The dog edged forward 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 beautiful voice. “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 will never 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 the Viking one she’d glimpsed so
briefly.

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.

Mindy 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.

Rogan was nodding as if he did. “I
canna say if the cave is a time portal. Though, after seeing your clothes, I’ll
own they did no’ come from any world that I know." He stood and started
pacing. “That’s why I left them in the cave. There are cracks and crevices so
deep that no man can retrieve anything that is thrown into them. And” – he came
back to the bed, once more sitting on its edge – “strange as Smoo is known to
be, I couldn’t allow my kinsmen to see such raiments. Your shoes alone would
have caused too many questions.

“That is why I stripped you." His
gaze flashed the length of her, the look in his eyes burning her as if he could
see her nakedness right through the thickness of the furred covering and bed
sheets.

“And you’re not curious yourself?"
Lindy had to ask.

His gaze turned even hotter. “All I
care about, sweet, is having you with me.”

Taking her in his arms again, he
kissed her thoroughly, leaving her breathless when he pulled away. “You could
have come to me draped in seaweed or glittering from head to toe in twinkly
starlight and it wouldn’t have made a difference. I only want you.”

“But-”

He pressed a finger to her lips. “There
are no buts in my world, Lindy-lass. Though I will tell you that, as a
MacGraith, I slipped into this life knowing that there are things we canna ever
hope to explain.

“MacGraiths are the hereditary
guardians of Smoo Cave. Since time was, we have been here at Castle Daunt,
watching always to ensure that nothing passes in or out of the cave without our
knowledge.”

Lindy stared at him. “So you’re
fairies?" The plots of countless paranormal romance novels came to mind. “Immortals
guarding the entrance to-”

“Guarding, aye, but we’re no’
immortal." He laughed, grinning again. “We’re flesh-and-blood men, as rock
solid as any other man." His smile turned wicked again and he pulled her
back into his arms, holding her close. “You should know how solid I am,
Lindy-sweet.”

She flushed, knowing indeed.

His
solidness
was very
apparent, though neither one of them had yet acknowledged the obvious.

It was one thing to be naked
together and burn up the sheets in a dream.

Being naked in his arms –
for
real
– was both a wildly exhilarating thought and flat out terrifying.

And not alarming without reason.

Trying to be discreet, Lindy cast
an assessing glance at her well-covered body. The sad fact was that, although
Rogan was undoubtedly passionately in love with her in fantasy form, the
real
Lindy Lovejoy might just be packing a few pounds more than the dream edition.

Sure that was true, her cheeks
flamed brighter.

How sad that her love of fish and
chips had kept pace with her around Scotland.

Not to mention haggis with neeps
and tatties.

Or steak-and-ale pie.

Lindy frowned, wondering if she
could just stay hidden beneath the covers forever.

A notion that brought another,
equally disturbing thought. How could she think in terms of eternity when she
might only be here a nano second? She’d spent too many hours working at Ye Olde
Pagan Times not to be well versed in the ins and out of the all things woo-woo.

Her manifestation in Rogan’s time
had surely upset the balance in her own world.

Something somewhere wasn’t right.

It was kind of like plucking a
thread from a knitted sweater.

No matter how carefully you pulled,
a hole appeared.

“Oh, God." Dread tightened her
chest and heat burned her eyes, blurring the richly appointed room and all its
lush, oh-so-real-seeming medieval trappings.

Rogan sprang off the bed. “What is
it?" His gaze flew to her injured hands. “Are you in pain? Did I tie the
bandages too tight?”

Snorri barked, sharing his master’s
concern.

“Or” – Rogan jerked a glance at the
door – “shall I call for the clan hen wife? Perhaps you hurt yourself worse
than we know. You might be in need of-”

“No." Lindy stood, careful to
snatch a pillow and hold it strategically. “I’m fine, really. It’s just that-”

“Here” – Rogan swirled a plaid
around her shoulders – “I’ll no’ have you taking a chill." He strode
across the room and yanked the shutters tight, dusting his hands as he turned
back to her.

But not before Lindy caught a look
at the view. A cold drizzle was falling and she’d seen mist, lots of drifting
curtains of mist. But she’d also seen endless rolling moorland and dark, rugged
hills. A vast wilderness that stretched as far as the eye could see. It was also
a landscape covered with thick woods.

The Scotland she’d left hadn’t been
anywhere near as forested.

Needing to be sure of what she’d
seen, she gripped Rogan’s borrowed plaid more tightly about her and went to the
window, opening the shutters he’d just closed.

She hadn’t been mistaken.

She really was looking out at
medieval Scotland.

And if the scenery wasn’t proof
enough, the deep silence was.

Only a world truly empty of
everything modern could be so still.

And the
texture
of the air! 
Even with the damp gusting wind and all the mist, everywhere she looked, the
world seemed filled with light and color in ways she’d never have believed
possible. Almost like an uncut jewel, sparkling in its purity.

Lindy gulped, her heart splitting.

It was as if she’d stepped inside
her own story.

She so wanted to stay here.

“Just what, lass?" Rogan’s
arms went around from behind and he pulled her back against his chest. “Tell me
what’s troubling you.”

Lindy bit her lip. She was
not
going to cry. “I- … it’s just that-”

“Ho, Rogan!" The door flew
open and a young man burst into the room. Big, hairy, and kilted, he looked
like he’d just stepped off the set of Rob Roy or Braveheart. But for all his
fierce appearance, the slack-jawed, owl-eyed stare he gave Lindy made him much
less intimidating.

“It’s herself!" He raised an
arm, pointing. “Your dream vixen!  You’ve described her so often when you’re in
your cups, I’d know her anywhere.”

“You’re forgetting your manners."
Rogan scowled at him. “MacGraiths know better than to gawk at women, whoe’er
they might be.

“This loon, if you’re curious” –
Rogan glanced at Lindy – “is my cousin, Gavin.”

“My lady." Gavin bobbed his
head, the crookedness of his smile revealing a chipped tooth.

The introduction made, Rogan
crossed the room in three swift strides and took the younger man by the elbow,
turning him back towards the door. “Away with you now and hold your flapping
tongue.”

“I canna. Your da sent me up here
with grim tidings." Gavin broke free and swatted at his mussed sleeve. “One
o’ the men just hastened in from Smoo. Lady Euphemia was walking along the
cliffs above the cave and before he could call out a warning” - he paused,
throwing a look at Lindy – “she slipped into one o’ the sink holes.

“He swears he saw her go down and
even heard her scream, but when he ran over to the edge o’ the crevice and
peered in, she disappeared.”

Lindy gasped.

Rogan slid an arm around her,
drawing her near. “The tide washes in and out of the sink holes. Have men searched
the beach? Or, if there’s no sign of her there, have they taken out boats? She
could have been washed out to sea and might be in the water around the cliffs.”

“To be sure they’ve done all that,
but they won’t be finding her." Gavin sounded convinced. “She’s gone, sure
as I’m standing here.”

“No one can be sure until a
thorough search is made." Rogan started steering his cousin out the door
again. “Others have fallen into the sink holes only to be found later,
wandering the moors, as well you know.”

“Did you no’ hear me, man?" Gavin
thrust his jaw. “I said she disappeared when the guard peered o’er the edge,
into the sink hole. He saw her right enough and then, like mist before the sun,
she vanished!”

“And how ale-headed was the guard,
eh?" Rogan shoved his cousin out the door and slammed it behind him, this
time sliding the draw bar in place.

“I’m sorry, lass." He turned
to Lindy, reaching for her. “Dinna let Gavin’s blethering-”

“I don’t think he was." Lindy
moved away, thinking again of sweaters and pulled threads. “That woman’s
disappearance will be my fault. I came here and, as is the way with such
things, someone had to be sent forward to my time.”

She paused, leaning against a table.
Guilt swept her. “It’s because of me that an innocent – "

“Euphemia MacNairn lost her
innocence the morning she awoke and discovered she had breasts." Long
strides brought Rogan to where she stood.