“What was it like,” she asked, pulling him down to the dock to sit, “the war?” Idly, she lightly fingered the brass buttons on his jacket, the cuffs of his sleeves, the leather of his boots. The hilt of his sword.
He swallowed.
“’Twas sheer hell,” Rory said. “Men much younger than myself – mere boys – took to arms and fought for this country.” He shook his head. “So many years have passed, and I believe most have forgotten. Those who fought have all died, and their closest relatives have died, as well. The stories have become lost.”
Kylie leaned against his shoulder, and Rory thought he’d fall straight into the Vernon. “Not everyone has forgotten,” she said softly.
Without warning, she slid her hand to his, pulled off his glove, and inspected his hand. Her slight fingers traced his larger, calloused ones, the thick veins that ran atop it, and the scraped knuckles.
And in the very next instant, the gloaming was over.
Rory’s physical body faded with the twilight.
And Kylie simply sat there in the near-darkness, quiet except for her harsh breathing. She swore.
Rory laughed, and watched her. “Dunna fret, lass,” he said, although ’twas exactly what he was doing, truth be told. “Tomorrow will bring another gloaming hour. And we shall spend it together.”
Rory fascinated her beyond belief, and before she even realized it, he’d put her at ease – made her forget Atlanta and the attack, made her forget the ugly scars it’d left her with. Only the present mattered.
Every day, Kylie spent her time on the verandah, or in the dock house, pouring over the Georgia volumes in search of Rory’s fate. Name after name, event after event flashed before her, yet nothing turned up regarding theBerkshireor its captives. Although she couldn’t see him, he remained by her side and helped her, talked with her. Yet when the gloaming approached, the volumes were set aside and he appeared – as in the flesh as any mortal man – and they’d spend that precious window of time devouring each other’s company. Somehow, he’d taught her to feel again.
Sweet Christ, ’twas painful awaiting the gloaming. For over 200 years, he’d searched for someone who would simply listen, and no’ run screaming in terror at the sight of an out-of-century man appearing before them, and invisible the next. Now that he’d found such a person, he didna want tae give her up. Her verra presence soothed him, and he craved time by her side. Surprisingly, he’d behaved hi’self. ’Til now.
Without words, he pulled her to a halt. Their eyes locked, his own grey ones to her blue. Her hand flew to the scar on her face, but he gently grasped her fingers, placing them over his heart. Pulling her close, he lowered his head and brushed her lips. The feel of her against him, the softness of her frock and scent of her skin urged him even more. His heart pounded like a wild thing, and when he grazed her tongue with his it took every ounce o’ strength he possessed tae remain upright. He threaded his fingers through her silken honey hair, inhaled her very essence, and when her hands crept around his neck and held his mouth tae hers, he devouredher, tasting every inch of her. Breathless, he hovered over her lips. “I never want tae let you go . . .”
Kylie’s heart seized at Rory’s words. With her eyes open, she swept his bottom lip with her tongue, kissing him slowly, lingering against his skin. She held him tight, as though doing so would prevent him from fading away. He crowded her with his body, wrapped his arms around her and encircled her, consumed her in ways she’d never thought possible. His grey eyes stared down at her, their lips still touching. Strong hands rested against the small of her back, then before either knew it, his presence began to slip, blurring into a faded mist until Kylie stood by the marsh alone. She wrapped her arms around herself and fought the sting in her eyes.
Oh Christ, girl. Please dunna weep. I willna be able tae bear it.
Kylie exhaled. “I never expected to find you. Is this even happening? Is it real?”
His voice brushed the skin of her neck, and she closed her eyes.Aye, love. ’Tis real enough.
After a restless night, Kylie awakened, made coffee, and then plunged into the volumes. She asked Rory question after question with little result. Then, almost as if it leaped from the crinkled worn pages, she saw it. Her throat constricted.
What?
“The revolt aboard theBerkshire.”
Read it tae me?
Drawing a deep breath, Kylie began. “October, 1775. A revolt led by a captured officer of the Revolution ended in a bloodbath. Major Rory MacMillan, followed by a dozen starved and diseased prisoners aboard the prison shipBerkshire, overtook several guards in an attempt to man the ship and free its captives. The attempt proved futile. Major MacMillan, accused of being a deserter of the King’s army, was shot and thrown into the ship’s solitary prison pit, separating him from his men, thus ending the revolt. Somehow, his . . .”
His what, Kylie?
Rory’s strained words squeezed her heart. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “His body simply disappeared from the locked prison.Major Rory MacMillan was never found, seen, or heard of ever again.”
The familiar haze began to shimmer before her, and Kylie’s eyes grew wide as Rory materialized before her. She jumped up. “What’s happening? It’s not even four o’clock.”
Without words, Rory grabbed her and held her close. His mouth sought hers, then whispered against her lips. “I remember,mo ghraidh.A man, another Scottish prisoner, whispered something in Gaelic. A verse. ’Twas just before I was shoved into the pit.” He shook his head and studied her. “It somehow sent me forwards in time.” His eyes misted. “I didna desert, and I wasna killed.”
She stared into his grey eyes. God, she could drown in them. “I believe you.”
He kissed her, and it singed her soul. “Christ,mo ghraidh,” he whispered against her mouth. “The help which I sought so desperately all those years has finally come.” He smiled. “Now, I wish I’d never sought it.”
They held each other until he began to blur. Tears filled her eyes. “No, Rory. You can’t go.” She choked back a sob. “Please don’t.”
“I love you, Kylie Jane Robinson. I believe I always have. Do no’ forget that.”
