Ian took her hand and smiled at her as he tucked it under his plaid to keep it warm. She knew he was remembering, as she was, how he used to take her hand along this path.
“I’m no likely to step off the edge now,” she said, smiling back.
“All the same, I’ll feel better if I have a hold on ye,” he said. “The wind is strong, and it’s a long way down.”
The first part of the cliff path was wide enough for them to walk side by side between the cliff and the rock outcrop. After a short distance, the path veered around a huge boulder. It narrowed beyond that and then ended abruptly at the edge of a giant crevice that split the cliff.
“The log is still here,” Ian said, sounding pleased.
In a long-ago storm, a tree that had once clung to the edge of the cliff fell across the thirty-foot fissure, forming a bridge of sorts. The only way to continue was to cross the log as the goats did.
Sìleas sucked in her breath as she peeked over the edge. “I can’t believe you lads used to cross here, instead of going around by the main path.”
“Ach, we were foolish. ’Tis a wonder we didn’t kill ourselves,” Ian said, pulling her back. “The only time I was truly frightened, though, was when ye followed us.”
Sìleas remembered the feel of the slippery wood beneath her bare feet and the sound of the swell and crash of the waves against the rocks below. Ian had told her not to come, so she had hidden behind the boulder until all four boys had crossed over the crevice and disappeared down the path on the other side.
“It took a year off my young life when I turned around and saw ye on the log.” Ian put his arm around her and pulled her tight against his side.
She had gotten halfway across the crevice before she looked down and froze.
“What made ye turn around that day?” she asked. His arm felt good around her. She couldn’t help leaning into him.
“I felt a prickle at the back of my neck.” He gave her a smile that made her stomach flutter and touched his knuckle under her chin.
Sìleas watched the water rise as another wave filled the narrow crevice, then crashed against the sheer walls. As it exploded into spray and foam, she tasted the dizzying fear that had gripped her when she stood on that log as a wee girl. That day, she had been unable to take her eyes off the rushing water thundering below her—until she heard Ian calling to her.
Don’t look down, Sìl, Look at me. Look at me!
Biting her lip, she’d torn her gaze from the swirling water to meet Ian’s eyes.
Don’t be scared, because I’m coming to get ye.
Ian had walked across the log toward her, holding her with his gaze and talking to her all the while. Even now, her body recalled the surge of relief that went through her limbs when his hand finally clasped her wrist.
I’ve got ye now. I’ll not let ye fall.
And he hadn’t.
Sìleas realized she was holding her breath and blew it out. A swell of gratitude rose in her chest for the eleven-year-old boy who had crossed the log without a moment’s hesitation to save her. Ian was always like that—fearless and decisive in a crisis. It was not the only time he had rescued her, just the most dramatic.
After that day, whenever she was in trouble, she no longer prayed to God to save her. Instead, she prayed for God to send Ian.
“Sìleas,” Ian said, bringing her attention from the lad in her memory to the man beside her. He backed her up to the boulder and braced his arms on either side of her. “I think ye owe me a kiss for scaring me half to death that day.”
Without waiting for her to agree, he lowered his head toward hers.
She couldn’t resist him and didn’t want to. Gripping the front of his plaid to steady herself, she tilted her head back to meet him. When his lips touched hers, she melted into him. The water crashing and churning below and the wind whipping the branches of the trees above echoed the tumult pulsing through her.
Her heart beat so fast she felt dizzy as he kissed her nose, her eyelids, her cheeks.
“Did ye bring me to this spot thinking the memory would make me soft on ye?” she asked.
“Aye,” he said, nuzzling her ear. “Did it work?”
Beneath his vanity and that dangerous edge that seemed to make the air crackle around him, she caught glimpses of the good-hearted lad he used to be. Remembering that boy’s blind disregard for his own safety to protect her, she could almost trust him.
Yet it wasn’t the boy who had left her, but the man.
