I ignored the obvious insult. “I got lost in the storm. I saw a light on the hill. I was desperate, so I followed it.”
“A light.” He didn’t believe me.
“I would never have found this place, but?—”
“But ye did. Almost as if someone had given ye directions, no?”
“Directions?” I shook my head. “There was this flash of blue light. I saw it from the trees. And when I went to find it, it had moved to the top of the hill. Someone had to be carrying it, so I chased after them. I just needed someone to give me directions.”
His disbelief wasn’t just frustrating, it scared the crap out of me. I started to shiver so violently, my voice shook.
“At the top of the hill, I found no trace, no footprints in the snow, but I could finally see past the storm. Saw these houses, and I thought…I thought I wasn’t going to die after all, and?—”
“Woman!”
I suddenly felt ill and grabbed the chair, but the cruel Yeti-man pulled it away…
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Bloody hell,” Cian grumbled, and lifted the woman higher in his arms. He’d seen her eyes roll when she’d stretched out her hand for the chair, and he knew full well she would fall. He’d reached her in time to keep her head from hitting the floor and might have saved the rest of her had she not clung to the bloody furniture between them.
Stubborn, intrusive…liar.
He couldn’t risk believing she was aught else.
“Dinnae dawdle,” the witches had said. “Hurry home.” Because they knew the lass was lying in wait for him. But to what purpose? To distract him until the traveler could come? To seduce him? To break his heart and make him wish to return to Culloden? To make him welcome death?
He’d seen the way the lass had eyed the ropes in his hands. She was fearful he would restrain her until she confessed. Aye, that was the way of it. So of course, that was what he should do. But he would have to wait until morning, until she recovered from her faint.
At least she wasn’t pretending there.
He carried her to the bed and noticed the blankets already spread. He tucked her between them and scooted her to the wall.The only way to keep her from escaping before he learned the truth would be to lie beside her. He was used to sleeping in a quiet house. If she tried to get to the door, he would know it.
A sound plan. Reasonable, even. But he didn’t feel completely reasonable when he looked into that still-visible face.
Lie beside her? Was he mad?
Since the wind’s fury had only grown stronger since he’d come inside, he would simply rely on her self-preservation to keep her put through the night. He would sleep in the old stables, build a fire there, and spare himself any temptation. Taking the lass’s skis and foolishly meager jacket should help him rest easy. If she left without her things, the fault would be hers. She would never live long enough to locate the traveler. And come morning, he would have plenty of time to gather his things and get far away from Balnacoorie.
If she stayed, he would get the truth from her tongue before noon.
I woke in near darkness,but a candle burning on a table fifteen feet away helped my eyes adjust and brought me back to the present. It was the only proof that I hadn’t dreamt the Yeti-man, because I never left a candle burning, ever.
Lying perfectly still, I scanned what I could see of the large room, but unless he was hiding under the bed, I was alone. For a split second, I worried he might be behind me, but there wasn’t room. I was bundled up tight and my back was nearly to the wall. And no matter how many layers of furs that beast removed, the man within had been massive.
The memory of that thigh came to mind. So long. So powerful. So red…
Yeah, I was alone. He’d abandoned the safety of his warm house to me, an intruder.
The wind pounded on the door, trying to get in, and I realized how dangerous it would have been for him to go back outside. Was he huddled in one of those other houses, with gaping holes in the roofs and doors? How could he possibly keep a fire burning?
I climbed off the bed, pulled the blanket around me, and hurried to the little window. It was pitch black out there. Though the wind blew, the feeble light of the candle behind me only lit up the closest snowflakes as they flew past the glass. Everything beyond a few feet out was a mystery. The road, the line of houses, all invisible.
The branches had to be dancing wildly. I imagined the trunks of the towering pines swaying like an army of drunks in the forest, somewhere to the left. But I might as well have been wearing a blindfold. If it wasn’t for the constant whir and howl of the blizzard, I might have believed the bothy had been picked up and taken to some other place in time.
Wasn’t time travel a Scottish thing?
I headed for the window on the wall where the tools hung. The little sled was gone. The chair was back in its original place. Only a faint glow of red outlined the metal stove door. When I pressed my forehead to the pane of glass, I finally saw something.
