Love Across Time (30 page)

Her heart beat so hard she thought her chest would burst with the pain. Where had her enthusiasm to return gone? Ever since she’d awakened, all she’d wanted was to go home. But where was home? In Tulsa where humanity rushed to jobs they hated, bought things they didn’t need, and allowed strangers to raise their children, or here with this enigmatic man, with his love, sharing his hard but rewarding life among people who loved and respected him.

Jagged pain ripped through her at the thought of leaving Liam forever. Never to feel his touch again or to see his heart-wrenching half-smile. Before he’d dashed out the door, she’d seen tears in her strong, Highland warrior’s eyes. She doubled over, covered her eyes with her hands, and wept.

Smothering another sob, she gulped hard and wiped her cheeks dry with the hem of her dress. Leaping from the chair, she scolded herself. Crying wouldn’t help. There had to be some logical explanation for the contentment she felt living in this century. For falling in love with a man she barely knew.

The words of the gypsy woman floated back to haunt her. She stood motionless in the center of the room and tried to remember the fortunetellers exact words. “You have traveled many years to and fro. Conquered that which most think is impossible. The answer lies within your heart. Don’t be blinded by the past that you fail to recognize the future and clasp it to your bosom. You possess that which you seek.”

She wandered aimlessly around the room and mentally replayed the gypsy’s words, “to and fro” over and over. She attempted to arrange her confusing thoughts into some semblance of order. The words suggested two separate passages. Had she passed
forward
then
back
, not just backward? Is that why she felt this solidarity with the people, the culture, even understood the language, because this is where she came from, not the twentieth-first century?

Her gaze traveled around the now familiar room. The adjustment of living here had not been as difficult as it had been to conform to life in the twenty-first century. It was almost as if this was where she belonged.

Shock raced through her as she perched on the edge of a chair in utter astonishment. Nadiya was right. She did possess that which she sought: a place to belong, a future with a good man who loved her deeply, and she returned that love just as deeply.

No sense of awareness burst upon her, no enlightenment of the past filled the darkness of her memory. Her life before was lost forever, and she knew she’d never regain those memories. It was as if she were newly born. Liam, her parents, Morag, and Ian filled the empty void in her life. She knew without a doubt that they were her family.

A sensation of rightness washed over her. The bond that united her and Liam as one tightened. She belonged with him. Her heart swelled with love as it burrowed deep within her soul.

Rising from the chair, she opened the armoire, and placed the brooch on top of the gossamer fabric. Their marriage ring, she’d keep. Without the other two items, the magical spell would be broken.

There was one thing left to do before her courage faltered. She needed to explain to Liam. The romantic meal she’d planned lay ruined, but she had the rest of the evening.

Determined, she disrobed, washed, and slipped a fresh nightgown over her head. She tapped on the wood panel between their rooms and when Liam didn’t answer, she opened the connecting door. Darkness bathed the room in shadows. Empty. A twinge of disappointment coiled in her stomach at Liam’s absence. Curled up in a chair, she waited for him in lonely silence staring at the small flame flickering in the fireplace.

An hour later, she rose and stretched her stiff muscles. The room had grown cooler. Goose bumps rippled over her. Where had Liam gone? She chafed her arms. He had to return sometime, and she wasn’t leaving here until she told him she loved him. Flipping back the covers, she crawled into bed and peered into the darkness.

The small fire had burned to ashes by the time she heard the door open. A sliver of moonlight wormed its way past the heavy drapes and illuminated Liam as he undressed. He pulled his shirt over his head and muscles on his taut stomach rippled. His dark skin glistened, and she longed to trail her fingers down the slope of his wide chest, then lower. He loosened the lacings on his trousers, and her heart rate increase. With each piece of clothing he removed, he stripped away the outer layer of Highland warrior
leaving only the vulnerable man beneath
and it
stirred her most feminine emotions. A warm glow of delight flowed through her. He was her other half. Neither time nor centuries could sever the bond that united them.

Thumbs hooked in his breeches, he was ready to remove them when his head jerked up, as if he sensed he wasn’t alone.

“Who be there?” His sharp gaze searched the darkness then settled on the bed.

“’Tis me.” Leaning up on her elbow, she tucked the covers under her arms.

“Margaret?” A faint tremble colored the softly spoken word.

“Aye.” She scooted up to lean against the headboard.

As if he were an arrow shot from a bow, he rushed forward, sat on the edge of the bed, and jerked her almost violently into his arms. Face buried in her hair, he murmured in an unsteady voice, “Margaret, nae leave me. Ye be me life.”

A shudder rippled over his strong warrior’s body, and her heart ached. She knew he’d suffered the same torment that she had at the thought of a permanent separation.

“Nae,
gaol
. I’ll nae leave ye.” At his desperate plea, a bottomless chasm burst open inside, and her love bubbled upward. She pushed him back and framed his face with her palms. “I love ye. I cannae live without me heart.”

His eyes widened in astonishment. “Ye remember?”

“Nae.” The pad of her thumbs gently removed the wetness from his cheeks. “Liam, ne’er doubt when I tell ye I was transported to the twenty-first century. If I had stayed here, after Eleanor pushed me down the stairs, I would have died. The doctors there saved me life, but this be where I belong, with ye, loving ye.”

“I nae care where ye come from, or where ye been, only that ye be here with me and will stay.”

Parting her lips, she leaned forward and sealed his lips with hers. Liam devoured her mouth. His kiss turned heated, frantic as his hands searched for bare skin beneath her gown. Calloused hands cupped her breasts, and his thumbs flicked her nipples to life. She moaned into his mouth.

They tumbled back onto the bed. His body imprisoned hers in a web of mounting arousal. Currants of desire raced through her. His hands stroked, petted, tantalized as his body thrust, retreated, then thrust harder. She writhed beneath him unrestrained. A thousand exploding stars burst behind her eyelids.

Sated, their naked flesh still moist from their lovemaking, she snuggled against his warm pulsating body. Her fingers plucked at the hair on his chest then circled his nipple with the tip of her nail.

“Liam, would ye have remarried if I’d died?” she asked, wanting to fit all the pieces together: her transportation through time, Mrs. Bixby’s curiosity of why the Book of Menzies lacked closure.

“Nae lass. The desire to live, to go about me daily tasks vanished when ye were injured.” He curled an arm around her and drew her closer. “I would probably have followed Bonny Prince Charles to the moors of Culloden, and if I’d nae been slain on the battlefield then I would have been banished from Scotland and lost all.”

“That would have been the end of your clan.” Reared up on one elbow, she stared down at him.

“Aye. But without ye, nothing would have mattered.”

The realization washed over her that the book remained incomplete because Liam had not updated the book during her recovery. His love had kept him by her side constantly.

“Tha gaol agam ort, Liam.”

“I love ye too,
gaol.”
His hand cupped her cheek, and tucked her head beneath his chin.

A few moments later, the soft snore beside her assured her Liam had fallen asleep. She lay in the darkness and marveled at the love she had for this brave vulnerable man. A man, though he loved her deeply, loved enough to set her free. In that one selfless act, he had united them together more than the bonds of marriage vows ever could. Looking at her husband, she realized how time had blessed her.

An eerie red glow penetrated the darkness, luring her from the bed to a chest against the far wall. She lit a candle and crossed the cold floor on bare feet. Hesitant, she cautiously lifted the lid and stared down at two identical red books. The titles read, Red Book of Menzies: a record of genealogies. She picked up one and flipped to page seven-hundred-and-forty-six. The entries ceased where Mrs. Bixby’s book had. Laying it back inside, she picked up the other tome. The cover grew warm in her hands.

Opening the book, she peered at the blank pages in the dim candlelight. Faint words appeared, faded, then reappeared, more legible. She leafed through the pages and looked into her future. Running her finger down the first group of genealogy entries, she stopped mid-page.

The stiff silence of the room echoed with her softly spoken words as she read the names aloud. Liam Menzies married Margaret Campbell, February 1, 1746. Children: three sons, Travis, Colin, and Thomas, two daughters, Abigail and Elspeth. It continued through the generations. Lines of succession. Future Menzies she’d never know, yet was responsible for their proliferation. She replaced the volume in the chest and picked up the book she knew would belong to Mrs. Bixby in the future.

Picking up a quill and ink, she wrote on a piece of paper. Finished, she sprinkled it with sand and softly blew. After she personalized the envelope, she attached the Menzies official seal then slid the missive between the pages of time.

Me dearest Mrs. Bixby:

I be home. Happy and well. Search for another book and it will answer all yer questions.

Yer friend, fore’er.

Maggie Menzies

Visit B. J. McMinn on her author’s page on Facebook and Barbara’s Bits and Pieces at
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