“She is not now nor ever will be my wife. I will make that clear to everyone.” He went from kneeling to sitting then pulled her into his lap and propped them both against the wall. “And I dinna wish for us to wait for however many months it takes to resolve the issue of Lady Murdina.”
Lorna snuggled to his chest, tucking her head under his chin as if trying to hide. A sigh escaped her, then she whispered, “And I am afraid.”
He pressed his cheek to her hair. “Of what, my own? Tell me what ye fear, so I might chase it away.”
“I love ye,” she said so softly he almost didn’t hear.
He swallowed hard, praying she had truly spoken those precious words, and they weren’t his own wishful imaginings. Ever so slowly, he eased her out from her tucked cowering and lifted her face to his. Smoothing wisps of her silky hair out of her face, he offered a teasing smile. “Why does loving me make ye afraid, my brave mouse? Were ye not the one who once challenged me to find my own courage?”
“Aye, but there is so much…” Her gaze searched his. She seemed unable to find the words to suit her. “So much…”
“So much what?”
Worry creased the smoothness of her brow. “So much ye dinna ken about me.” She barely shook her head. “I am not what I seem, and I have no way to explain it.” A small laugh escaped her along with a desolate shrug. “I still dinna understand it myself.”
Her worries perplexed him. Not only because he yearned to know all her secrets but also because whatever fretted her had built a wall between them. “I will tell ye all that ye seem to me. When I am done, tell me what I failed to name, aye? Every last bit of it.” He swept his fingers through her hair, tugging it free of its pins. “Trust me to understand, precious mouse. Without full trust between us, we canna build a life together.”
She stared at him, unblinking, as though weighing her choices. “Before we start this dangerous truth-telling,” she said, “I beg one promise from ye.”
“Anything, my own. Name it.”
“I ask for the same promise ye gave Hesther and Frances.” Her rueful look cut him to the core. “Swear ye willna put me out. Because I have nowhere else to go.”
Rather than argue the ridiculousness of what she suggested, he unsheathed his dagger and held it up like a cross. “I swear I will never put ye out, m’love. Not for any reason.” Then he set the blade aside and cupped her face between his hands. “And now I will tell ye about the woman I see before me.” He stroked his thumb across the softness of her cheek. “She is beautiful to gaze upon, and the generosity of her soul and the kindness of her heart increase her beauty tenfold. She walks with the ferocity of a protective lioness, caring for the weak and downtrodden.” After a slow, tender kiss that made him need her even more, he continued. “This woman of mine tastes of honey wine and an unfathomable love that both thrills and frightens me.” He slid his hands across her shoulders, down her arms, and took hold of her hands. “Now tell me what it is about ye that I have failed to name.”
She lowered her gaze to their hands. “I have never lied to ye, but I know ye often wondered what I was leaving unsaid.” She twitched a nervous shrug without looking up. “I had to leave a lot unsaid, though. Because if I spoke half the things I could have, ye would either think my mind had left me or that I was a witch and should be put to death to protect yer clan.”
Her words shocked him. He opened his mouth to deny their truth, but she stopped him with a quick shake of her head. “No. It is my turn now. Remember?”
She was right. “Aye, my precious one. Forgive me and please continue.” He prayed that this unloading of her soul would grant him the rights to her heart and their marriage before Hogmanay. Surely nothing she was about to say could be so dire.
She wet her lips, pulled in a deep breath, and eased it out with a decisive nod. “I told ye all that had happened the night before I found myself alone and wandering in the snowstorm, aye?”
“Aye. I remember.” He had often thought about her strange tale, wondering what terrible thing had come upon her to make her forget how she came to be on his land.
“And how I once owned a used bookstore in Thurso? Ran it with the help of my dearest friends?” Her eyes misted over, but she blinked fiercely against the tears. “I think I told ye that, did I not?”
It might be her turn to speak, but perhaps he should also confess all he had done to untangle the truth of her tale. “There has never been such a bookstore in Thurso, dear one. And I must tell ye that when I sent Jasper to discover more about ye, no one in the town had ever heard of ye.”
Her nervous smile puckered tighter, making him wonder if she was about to be ill. “That is because my bookstore and friends are still where I left them—in the year 2022.”
Surely he had misheard. “Say again?”
This time her tears escaped her rapid blinking. “After I broke it off with Patrick, I was so angry that I didna pay attention to where I was going. I stepped off the cliff, and just as I fell, the brightest northern lights show I had ever seen exploded all around me.” She slid her hands free of his and hugged herself as if not trusting him to do it. “It made me feel sick and all topsy-turvy with spinning. Then everything went black, and when I woke up, I was back on the cliff. In the frozen grass. First, I thought I was dead. Then I recognized the place and started walking to get back to town. Back home.” A hiccupping gulp escaped her, and she bowed her head. “But I couldna find anything that was supposed to be there. No matter how hard I searched. Hook’s Cafe on the edge of Thurso had disappeared—as had everything else I once knew.”
“What year were ye born?” It was all he could think to say. The shock of all she had just shared had locked his ability to reason.
“1994.” She pulled a square of linen from her sleeve and wiped her nose. “July twenty-eight.” Mouth quivering and eyes squeezed shut, she tucked her head to one side in a pitiful shrug. “I swear I am telling the truth.” More tears coursed down her cheeks. “I dinna ken how I came to be here. I just know…I am here.”
Even though all she said was incomprehensible, deep in his heart and soul, he knew she spoke the truth—whether it had truly happened or she merely thought it had because of some overwhelming tragedy foisted upon her. She believed her story with every fiber of her being. And therefore, he must believe it too.
He pulled her close again, gently rocking as she collapsed against his chest, sobbing. Perhaps she grieved for those she believed she had left behind. Friends. Family. All she had ever known. Or at least thought she had ever known. He struggled to fathom how such a thing could be true, then berated himself. Why could it not be true? Many things happened in the world that no one could explain.
“I believe ye, dearest mouse,” he whispered. When she didn’t react, he said it louder. “Lorna. My love. I believe ye, and none of that matters. All that matters is that ye are here now, and I love ye with a fury that nothing in heaven or earth could ever set aside.”
With a shuddering sniff, she pushed herself upright and stared him in the face. “Ye believe me? Really?”
“Aye, I do.” A pitiful mess with her red nose, splotchy cheeks, and mussed hair, she had never looked lovelier to him. He ached for a kiss but sensed she needed more words for now. “I willna pretend to understand all that ye said or how it could be, but I do believe ye—because I love ye and my heart says it is so.”
