“Aye, love. Joined for all time.” Graham held out his hand. “Ye ken our souls were matched long ago. Ye are mine as I am yours.”
Without another word, she placed her wrist in his palm, staring forlornly down at her arm. “Bind us,” she whispered without looking up.
With a quick slice, Graham drew his own blood first then swiped the razor-sharp blade across Lilia’s pale skin. Slipping the dagger into his belt, he pressed their wrists together, holding them tight with his free hand. A sense of peace filled him—a contented warming like he had never known before. This woman was his other half, the true match he had never dared hope to find.
“Say ye will be my wife. In this life and the next. Say ye will gladly bind yer soul to mine. The words will come to ye—just as they did centuries ago when our souls first met and we pledged our love for the verra first time.” A sense of completing his destiny washed across him, strengthening him as he bent and kissed her trembling fingers again. Aye.This was meant to be. The Fates had matched them well.“Tha gaol agam ort, mo nighean bhan.”
At her quizzical look, he leaned forward, kissed the tip of her nose, and repeated, “I love ye, my fair-haired one.”
She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. The corners of her mouth drooped even lower as she blinked hard against the spilling of more tears and stole another glance over at Eliza. She squeezed his hands, closed her eyes, and pulled in a deep hitching breath.
Graham waited, holding his breath, all the while sending up a silent prayer that she would grant him the priceless gift of her love.Please let it be so.
“I will be your wife in this life and the next, if you swear to be my loving husband. I will join my soul to yours for all eternity, if you swear to guard me against the darkness that threatens to steal me away.” She sniffed, eased forward, and looked sadly up into his eyes. “I already love you more than I ever thought possible and I am trusting you with my heart and soul.” She wet her lips, looked back at Eliza, then returned her gaze to him. “Let these words forever bind us. Let our blood seal our souls. As time and fate are our witnesses, let us forever be as one.” Tears streamed down her cheeks as she continued, “For the good of all, with harm to none, so mote it be, so let it be done.”
“I swear to all those things and more,” Graham said. “So mote it be.”
A sudden gust of wind whooshed and moaned around the room, billowing out the bed curtains and scattering papers across the floor. The windows rattled in their casings. Tinkling laughter and lilting music—a tune as bawdy and loud as a barroom song filled the air.
“I love ye, my dear sweet child, and I’ll be a watching over ye,” echoed from somewhere near the ceiling as the howling wind died down. “Dinna fash nor waste another minute with tears. I am free now and ye ken well that I shall always be with ye.” The windows rattled one last time as Eliza’s laughter softly faded away.
The boxes at the head of the hospital bed beeped and blared out their alarms. Graham scowled at the biggest of the black screens—the one with the bright green line running flat across the center of the screen. “What does the line mean?” he asked as a pair of nurses burst into the room.
“It means she’s gone,” Lilia whispered.
CHAPTER17
Lilia smoothed her fingers across the satiny grain of the polished wooden box. So smooth. So cool to the touch. So . . . serene. She embraced the emotions with a sad smile. Even from beyond the grave, Eliza watched over her and sent her bittersweet hugs. She felt it as surely as if Eliza stood right beside her.
The box's beveled edges highlighted the wood’s golden grain. No bigger than a simple dresser box made to hold bits and baubles of a young girl’s jewelry, the small container of oak held all that remained of the most enigmatic woman Lilia had ever known. How odd that such a larger than life, loving person could somehow be reduced to a plastic bag of dust that wouldn’t even fill a shoebox.
“Ashes to ashes, lovie. Ye ken well and good that Mistress Eliza isna in that wee chest. ’Tis only the remnants of the shell that once housed her lovely soul.” Vivienne pulled a chair up to the table and gently laid her hand on Lilia’s. “Just a shell. Nothing more than a temporary vessel for a fiery, awesome-sauce spirit that could never be stopped whenever she made up her mind about what was to be done.”
“The house is too quiet. It feels hollow now that I know she’s never coming back.” Lilia glanced up at the horrendous black-cat clock on the kitchen wall. Its eyes twitched back in forth in time with the pendulum motion of its tail counting off the seconds. And it ticked. Loudly. Echoing through the somber air of the entire house.
Alberti set a steaming cup of coffee in front of her, took her hand off the box, and wrapped it around the cup. “All of us will be staying here with you.” He paused as Graham sounded off with a possessive huffing snort. He cleared his throat and settled down at the kitchen table beside Vivienne. “We willallstay here until after the services. Did Eliza advise you of her wishes?”
“She didn’t want a memorial service—or a funeral.” Lilia could hear Eliza’s voice right now as though the feisty woman were sitting right beside her.Fancy funerals and la-tee-da memorial services are not for the sake of the dead, dearie. They’re just a way of filching money from those too filled with grief or guilt to have enough sense to see the skinning they’re taking from the undertaker.
Lilia sipped at the scalding hot brew, breathed in the steam, and closed her eyes as Eliza’s lecture continued inside her head.Scatter my ashes to the winds. Toss me out into the sea along the shoreline of my girlhood.Eliza wouldalways chuckle and wink as she finished the instructions.And when ye feel the rain on yer cheek or the breeze blowing through yer hair, know that I’ve come to visit with ye and let ye know I’m always watching over ye.
“Sweetling?” Graham gently stroked her hair, his light touch soothing as a healing balm. “What would ye have us do to honor Mistress Eliza?”
“She wanted her ashes scattered across the part of Scotland she knew as a girl.” Lilia rose, went to the coffeepot, and refilled her cup. “The Highlands she loved—down next to the sea where she used to play when she was a child.”
Lilia took another sip of coffee. She’d downed nearly a gallon of the strong black brew in less than a day yet she still felt numb, cold, and exhausted. An aching weariness pushed her down like a two-ton yoke collared around her neck. She leaned back against the counter, cringing as Angus stepped away from the open refrigerator door while greedily guzzling directly from the glass pitcher of juice. She forced herself to look away before she gagged, making a mental note to get Vivienne to work on Angus’s manners—again. Totally besotted with the buxom redhead, Vivienne was the only one Angus would listen to and even remotely attempt to impress.
“Angus!” Vivienne hissed.
Angus lowered the juice pitcher, smacking his lips and sucking juice droplets from his mustache as he turned a look of pure innocence on Vivienne. “Eh?”
Vivienne blew out an exasperated exhale, then sagged back against the kitchen counter with a defeated shake of her head.
“We shall take her there together,” Graham said, leaning back against the counter beside Lilia and curling a protective arm around her shoulders.
“I was hoping you’d want to go with me.” Lilia eased in another sip of coffee, then nodded at Angus. “And you can come too, Angus, since we’ll be taking her back to your time. I’m sure you’re ready to return, aren’t you?” She smiled up at Graham, leaning into his warm comforting embrace. “You’re probably ready for a visit back too. Wouldn’t you like to see Ronan and compare notes about the twenty-first century?”
“Back to my time?” Graham stiffened and the arm that he had so lovingly draped around her shoulders slowly fell away. “The thirteenth century, ye mean?”
