Brianna awoke witha raging headache and a bone-chilling cold. The last thing she remembered was falling and the frigid wind sucking the breath out of her lungs. She did a mental inspection. It didn’t feel like she had any broken bones. Mostly she was cold and sore.
Her eyes blinked open to a wintery sky overhead. Groaning, she rolled to her side and sat up. The moment she did, pain exploded through her. She winced, placing a hand to her head, and groaned.
“Good morrow, lass. ’Tis good to see ye awake.”
Her eyes flew open at the sound of the man’s voice. He stood across from her, leaning against his horse with his arms folded over his chest and a tartan pulled up to cover his head and shoulders. He wore brown breeches and scuffed black boots. He was young and handsome and smiled at her as though he knew her and stood there waiting for her to wake up. His chiseled face was rugged with hard angles. His eyes, a deep doe-brown, twinkled.
Her breath pooled in her chest as a sense of familiarity drifted through her. It was a strong sense of déjà vu, as though she had seen him before—not in passing, but in some distant, half-forgotten dream lingering out of reach, teasing the edges of her memory.
A quick glance at her surroundings and she realized she was no longer on the museum terrace. She was no longer in the city. She was surrounded by mountains and ridges with a beautiful untouched landscape.
“Oh, God.”
Her voice was raw and raspy. Her hand flew to her throat as she looked up at the man standing across from her, still smiling.
“Where am I?”
“Och, lass, I think the question ye should be asking iswhenare ye.” There was a sparkle of mirth deep in his eyes.
Panic shifted through her as her heart picked up speed. She didn’t like where this was going. Her mind was a frenzy of questions as her brows drew together. What did he mean bywheninstead ofwhere?
“James Alexander MacLeod,” he said. “But ye can call me Jamie. And ye are?”
MacLeod. The familiar name flickered through her mind. Where had she heard it before?
“Brianna,” she managed.
“Sinclair, I’d wager.”
“How did you know that?” Her heart skipped a beat as panic swelled.
“I ken a lot more about ye than ye think.” He winked in a charming sort of way that made her want to swoon.
Confusion shoved aside the panic.
He pushed off the side of the horse and stepped over to her, holding a hand down to her. She hesitated, staring at his hand with suspicion. She had trusted John MacDonald and he’d tried to attack her and take the—
Frantic, she glanced around searching for the piece of stone Moira had told her not to let out of her sight. When she did, she noticed her hand was burned with the imprint of the stone’s lines.
“Looking for this?” Jamie held the silent stone out to her. It rested against his palm, the lines no longer glowing. The stone no longer humming.
She snatched it from him, closing it in her fist and holding it against her chest protectively.She glared at him.
“Ye dropped it,” he said. “Ye’ll be wanting to keep that safe, aye?”
“Who are you?” she demanded, her voice stronger, though it still felt raw. She placed the small piece of stone in the front pocket of her jeans.
“I told ye my name.” Again, he held his hand down to her. “Come with me, lass. I can take ye to someone who can answer all yer questions.”
Still, she was wary of her rescuer. “Why should I trust you?”
“’Tis a good question. But I can tell ye, on my honor, I willna hurt ye. I only want to help. I dinnae think ye wish to remain here, alone, in the wild, do ye?”
That was enough to spur her into action. She reached for his hand, allowing him to help her to her feet. His palm was calloused, as though he were a working man. Yet his hand was warm as his fingers closed around hers. When she stood, she fell forward, her legs weak as a dizziness swept through her. He caught her, held her close in his strong arms. He smelled of leather and heather, which was quite the opposite of what she was used to in the men who had held her as close. They usually smelled of ocean breezes.
Their eyes met, his soft and wonderous as he held her. His body was rock hard, yet soft enough to make her want to sink against him. It was a dangerous thing to want.
“Careful, lass. Ye’ve had a bit of a shock, aye?”
