Because we’d been waiting for Portia. We just hadn’t known it.
“Maybe fate led me to study chronomancy,” Albie said softly.
Leaning around him, I set the book on the shelf. Then I cupped his jaw and stroked my thumb along his cheekbone, savoring the scrape of his golden stubble against my skin. “Aye,” I murmured, “maybe it did.”
He leaned into my touch, his eyes warm behind his spectacles. “The guide says a chronomancer was last seen on the Isle of Skye. We’ll find him and ask about the auld stones. Portia is meant to be ours. Fate sent her to our time for a reason. Maybe she just needs to hear it from someone else. If the chronomancer tells her she belongs here, she’s more likely to accept it.”
My chest tightened. “Are you certain about this?” I slid my fingers up and touched the rim of his spectacles, the metal warm under my fingertips. “I can’t bear to see you hurt again.”
He’d lost his sight to a witch. Eager to meet someone rumored to possess knowledge of the Curse, he’d traveled without me. I’d found him crumpled in an alley, his bright hair matted with blood and his eye swollen shut. The injury stillplagued him, leaving him with headaches that struck without warning and left him pale and shaking.
Albie’s expression softened. He covered my hand with his and pressed my palm more firmly against his face. “I won’t be hurt. I’ll have you to protect me this time.”
My throat tightened. “Your curiosity could be the end of you one day, my love.”
He smiled. “Or it could save everything.”
“Albie—”
“This is why we didn’t fall into sorrow, Tavish.” His voice was gentle but insistent, and there was more than a hint of excitement in his gaze. “We were waiting for Portia. We just didn’t realize we had to wait for her to cross through time to find us.”
It was as if he’d read my mind. The truth of his words settled in my bones. Aye. We’d been spared the madness that claimed so many of our kind. Not because we were stronger or luckier, but because fate had other plans.
I picked him up.
Albie sucked in a startled but clearly delighted breath, and he wrapped his strong legs around my waist as I swung toward the bed.
“Are you certain this plan of yours will work?” I asked, carrying him across the chamber.
“We won’t let Portia out of our sight,” he said, looping his arms around my neck. “She’s outnumbered. If she tries to run, we’ll catch her.”
I grunted, skeptical despite his assurances. “Hopefully, that chronomancer moved. Or died.”
He laughed. “Don’t say that. WewantPortia to understand she’s in the right time.”
Reaching the bed, I dumped him on it. He sprawled on his back, pink dusting his cheekbones. His kilt had ridden up again, and he reached for the hem.
“Don’t,” I said, unbuckling my belt.
He licked his lips as he eased his hand away.
“Good lad.”
His breath quickened, and that charming blush deepened. A lock of blond hair spilled over his forehead, and that was charming, too.
“If your plan fails,” I said, “we go with mine.”
He stared up at me, his jacket open and his carefully tied cravat askew. The jacket parted wider as he propped himself on his elbows, the bulge between his thighs swelling as he watched me rip my shirt over my head.
“And what’s your plan?” he asked, sounding winded.
I unwrapped my kilt and tossed it away, then bent and untied my boots. I kicked them aside and straightened, aware that Albie tracked every swing and sway of my cock. Nude, I gave my shaft a lazy stroke. “Seduction.”
He tried to look stern but failed miserably, his erection tenting his kilt. “Seduction isn’t a plan, Tavish. It’s more of a…” His gaze wandered down my body, lingering on my chest and abdomen before settling on my hand working my cock. “Hobby of yours,” he finished weakly.
I swiped moisture from my slit and worked it over my shaft. Albie whimpered, and I stepped close so my knee grazed his calf. “Why don’t you come up here and suck my hobby, hmm?”
His lips parted, a fluttery breath escaping him. “That’s not really a sound analogy?—”
