The way my shoulder slides into place beneath his arm—it’s effortless. Like it was always meant to be there.
Like I was always meant to be here.
A second ago, I was so nervous, buzzing with too many thoughts. But now? His warmth steadies me, his arm anchoring me to something solid, something certain. The tension in my shoulders melts. Matching his easy, loping stride feels as natural as breathing.
As we wind through the trees, I let my mind wander to the first time I walked this path. If I hadn’t taken Una’s advice and attempted a shortcut…if I hadn’t gotten lost…if I hadn’t knocked on Callum’s door… Would I ever have met him? I can’t imagine never knowing him.
Which is irrational. I should be wishing I’d never left. That none of this had ever happened.
Instead, I’m all dressed up, walking side-by-side with a thoughtful, attentive, protective, seventeenth-century clansman, who also happens to be hot in a rugged, capable, blacksmithy kind of way, raising the bar where the male population is concerned, which’ll make things difficult when I return to the modern era, there being a shortage of blacksmiths and all.
He’s like the sea—steady and twinkling on the surface, but with ferocity slumbering in the depths. And somehow this powerful, dangerous person has nestled me effortlessly at his side, as if I’ve always belonged there.
The enormity of what I’m feeling overwhelms me, and I insert the slightest bit of space between us. His arm slides from my shoulders, and I know a twinge of regret. I could’ve simply relaxed and enjoyed this moment. Instead, I overthink everything.
But Callum is blissfully oblivious to my internal drama. He just nonchalantly scoops up my arm, hooking our elbows like it’s what we always do.
And what if it were?
With each switchback, I wonder—what if this trail suddenly whooshed me back to my own time? Would Callum be swept along with me?
The thought warms me from the inside, like sunlight finding my darkest corners.
Callum jiggles my arm, and when I look up, he sweeps loose strands of hair from my face. “Thoughts of water horses and fairies have plowed quite the furrow along this bonnie brow.”
I give him an abashed smile. “Sorry. You lost me for a minute.”
My mind has been going a thousand miles an hour, inventing every anxiety I can conceive of, and all the while Callum’s been breathing fresh air and enjoying the sun on his shoulders.
I’m not going to solve anything this minute. The day is unseasonably mild, the sun uncharacteristically bright. I’m almost too warm in my new cloak. It’s time to be where I am for once, instead of worrying about all the bad things that either did or might yet happen.
“What’s got your mind in a tangle?”
Determined to adopt some of Callum’s ease as my own, I give him a sly grin. “I’m still recovering from the idea that fairies are so evil.”
“Best prepare yourself then.” His tone is serious, but a quiver at the corner of his mouth tells me he’s stifling a laugh. “I’ve got something even more exotic to introduce to you.”
He lets go of my arm and takes my hand instead, threading his fingers through mine. A delicious thrill races through me. Has anyone ever held my hand like this? Such a simple thing, palm-to-palm, and yet it’s oddly intimate,hinting at other expanses of skin that might press along mine.
I manage to ask, “What’s more exotic than fairies?”
“Bluebells in autumn.”
“Bluebells?” It comes out a little breathlessly, and I hope he’ll just assume I’m super excited about flowers.
“Aye, you’ve never seen one. We’re away to set that to rights.” There’s something in his voice—a quiet certainty. Like he’s sharing more than just flowers.
He guides me off the path, holding aside a branch so I can follow him into a dense thicket. I duck through and step into a clearing.
Where two horses are waiting.
Chapter
Twenty-Three
Istop short, instantly suspicious. “What are those?”
Callum tilts his head. “You’ve not seen a pony neither?”
