Page 138 of Edge of Yesterday

Chapter Twenty-Three

Cailean had cried only three times in his life. When his mother died. When his father died. And when he lost his beloved Aussie of fifteen years. Now, his chest constricted with the pressure of all those sorrows—and so much more—and his heart cracked as tears blurred his vision. The week he’d been in Heatheredge he’d been hell-bent on returning home. Yes, wanting to return to one’s own century after traveling back in time six hundred years was the sane response…the right thing to do, upon reflection. But too much time thinking about stopping Crowe and going home meant little time considering the one thing he couldn’t allow himself to ponder.

Her.

Kill Crowe and return home had been his mantra.

But he was home.

Heatheredge--this Heatheredge--was his Heatheredge. And she was his wife.

Julianna’s body felt so light in his arms that he feared she was dissolving. His mind whirled. I can’t. I can’t live without her.

“Goddammit, I won’t let ye go. I won’t.” He buried his face so deep in her hair he could almost taste her.

“Ye had better no’.”

Cailean’s mind cleared. “What?”

“Ye had better no’ let me go.”

He drew back enough to look down into her eyes. She stared up at him.

“I thought…” The words choked him.

Julianna frowned. “Thought what?”

Cailean ran his fingers over her face, her neck, her shoulders, looking for anything out of place.

Her gaze searched his face. “Are ye all right, Cailean?”

He yanked her to him and covered her mouth with his. She tensed, then relaxed when he thrust his tongue inside her mouth. He tasted her, memorized every contour and the tangle of her tongue with his.

Julianna abruptly broke the kiss. “I cannae breathe.” She wriggled but he refused to release her. “Cailean.” She pushed at his chest.

He loosened his hold and drew back only far enough to look at her. “Are ye well?”

“I felt odd for a moment. I was dizzy, but now I am fine.”

Cailean traced a finger along her cheek. “So long as I live, you will always be fine.”

Her brow furrowed. “Your cheek is wet. Are ye ill?”

He smiled gently. “God knows, since I’ve met you, I feel as if I have gone mad.”

She placed a hand on his cheek. “Nae, Cailean. Ye are as full-witted as any man.”

“Any man who’s fallen in love, perhaps.”

Pink tinged her cheeks. “What are ye saying?”

“I’m saying I have gone mad—and it’s all your fault.”

~*~

Sweet God, was Cailean truly saying he loved her? Her heart began to pound faster. “Cailean,” she whispered, but he kissed her again, hard, then, pulled back and started to turn. He stopped, grasped her hand, then led her to the water’s edge where Crowe’s dagger teetered on the ledge of the rock shore. Cailean picked up the dagger, then flung it across the water. It splashed and disappeared a few feet from the waterfall.

“Why did ye do that?” she asked.