“How is it you came to be digging in the earth for worn-out trinkets in the Highlands of Scotland?”
Her lips curved into a smile that beckoned him. Only with great restraint was he able to resist reaching out and pulling her to him when she pushed herself up to sit.
“A dream called me. Sounds crazy, right? From the time I was a kid, I loved old things. My grandmother’s yellowed teacups, antiques stores, museums, you name it. The older, the better. By the time I hit middle school, I figured I must be meant to be an archaeologist. Always in my dreams there was one special ancient treasure calling out to me, waiting just for me to come to Scotland to find it. So when I got the chance, I jumped at it.” She yawned, her jaw stretching wide, followed by a relaxed little sigh. “If I have any gift, I guess it’s finding stuff. When I look for things, it’s as if I can hear them calling to me, tempting me with their stories and their histories. Things, mind you. Not people. Send me after anythingand I can find it.”
They’d talked late into the night. Time that should have been spent in sleep. Still, he’d not trade those moments with her. Not even for a well-rested tomorrow.
“We should get some rest now,” he assured her while lifting her blanket for her to lie back down.
Instead she leaned forward, placing the lightest of kisses on his cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For letting me inside those walls of yours.”
The blanket fell unnoticed as he pulled her close, his lips covering hers. He hadn’t intended anything of the sort, but in the moment, he had no choice.
Far from protesting, her hands slid into his hair and she pressed against him even as he lowered her to her back, covering her body with his.
The kiss deepened and he shoved at the yards of cloth she wore, urging her skirts up and out of his way. Her legs parted and he fit himself into the cradle she formed, pressing against her welcoming heat.
His fingers tightened on the blighted undergarment she wore. One sharp tug and he’d be home.
“Shit!” she squealed, her hands shoving at his chest even as she squirmed her way out from under him. “Holy shit!”
His breath came in great sharp gulps as he pushed up to his knees, guilt and anger warring at his own lack of control, battering him with each beat of his heart.
“I’m sorry,” he gasped, unable to meet her gaze until she pounded her fist into his chest.
“There!” she squeaked, “in the trees. He’s in the trees.”
Colin was on his feet, sword drawn, before she managed her next words.
“It was Jonathan. I swear to God, Colin, I saw Jonathan watching us.”
Twenty-eight
Come on now, up with you. We’ve miles to cover this day.”
Abby stretched, each of the pebbles and sticks on the hard ground beneath her making its irritating presence known.
“I finally feel sorry for that princess with the pea in her mattress,” she muttered, rolling to her knees.
“What’s that you say?”
Colin appeared to have been up for a while. He’d packed up their campsite and laid out a small square of cloth beside her, with a hunk of bread and some dried fruits arranged on it.
At the moment, she’d give her right arm to see a cup of coffee there in the mix.
“Nothing.”
Colin had to feel worse than her. The last time she’dchecked before falling asleep, he’d still been wide awake. Her whole hallucination about seeing Jonathan Flynn in the shadows had pretty much ruined any decent sleep for either of them
He bent to pick up her blankets, shaking them out before rolling them into a neat little bundle. “We need to put some speed under us this day.”
“I’m up for it.”
Assuming her head didn’t explode from caffeine deprivation. Of course, that was something she was going to have to get over if she ended up stuck in this time.
“Not going there,” she muttered to herself as she leaned down to splash cold water on her face.
Biting back a groan, she made her way over to her mount and climbed up on his back. She’d ridden horses all her life and thoroughly enjoyed the experience. But there was a big difference between a couple hours on horseback for fun and a full day on horseback for transportation.
