The little group of men who came into view just then, striding down the opposite cliff path, didn’t look like modern-day men dressed up as Viking re-enactors.
They looked like the realthing.
Worst of all , one of the men near the front, leading the others down the steep cliff side, washim.The man she often dreamed of and who she’d named Lore in her romance novel, but now knew to be Rogan MacGraith.
Except – Lindy’s heart tripped – when a tall blonde-braided woman in a flowing red cape appeared at the top of the bluff, her hair and her cloak whipped by the wind, Lindy knew that the man she was staring at was named Ragnar.
In that instant, she also knew that she’d once been the woman.
She’d fall en in time, and was reliving a fatefulday that had changed her life ever after.
Tears streamed down the woman’s face and, even from here, across the cove, Lindy could see how the woman’s anguished gaze stayed pinned on the man as he strode purposely down the path, making for the longships.
He was heading to his death, Lindy knew.
She could feelthe woman’s pain clawing at her heart, ripping her soul.
“No-o-o!” Lindy wasn’t sure if she’d yelled, or if the red-cloaked woman on the other cliff top did, but the cry echoed in the cove, causing the men to pause and swing round to stare up at the woman.
Lindy watched her, too, looking on as the woman pressed a fist against her mouth and shook her blonde head as Rogan – no, Ragnar – call ed something up to her. But whatever it was, the wind took his words and Lindy couldn’t hear what he’d said.
Then he turned away again and, for an instant, his gaze caught Lindy’s. He froze, shock and recognition flashing across his face before he whipped back around to stare up at the woman on the cliff.
Only she was gone.
And before Lindy could see his reaction, he disappeared, too. His little party of men and the three beached longboats vanished as well, the entire scene erased from view as if none of it had ever been.
Yet Lindy knew it had.
She’d just glimpsed her own past.
“Oh, God!” She started to tremble. The camera slid from her hands, bounced twice, and began clattering away. “Damn!” She grabbed at it, but her foot slipped and she plunged forwards, tumbling down the remaining steps.
Blessedly, they weren’t that many, but she slammed painfully on to her knees all the same, flinging out her arms to break a worse fall . Even so, she feared the hard shingle might have cracked her kneecaps. And her hands were definitely bleeding. They hurt badly, burning like fire.
“Oh, God . . .” Shaken, she slumped against a rock just as the dog she’d seen earlier came bounding up to her, barking excitedly and wagging his tail as he scampered close to sniff at her scraped and bloodied knees.
“Snorri!” A man’s deep voice called the dog away. “Leave the lass be.”
“Oh, God,” Lindy gasped again, recognizing the rich burr. “It’s you! Lore . . . Rogan!”
And then, just as she glanced up, seeing indeed that it was him, a sea of stars flittered across her vision and the world went black. But not before she felt strong manly arms slide protectively around her. They were familiar arms and so dear, nothing else mattered but knowing that Rogan MacGraith was lifting her, holding her safe.
She’d come home at last.
Wherever – andwhenever– that might be.
Four
Her hands were bandaged.
And – this is what really woke Lindy – someone was kissing her fingertips.
That same someone was also murmuring Gaelic love words, his breath soft and warm against her skin. Lindy’s heartskittered and she opened her eyes, looking into the face she’d loved forever. She knew that now, the surety of it filling her with a completeness, a sense of rightness and contentment, such as she’d never known.
At least not in the twenty-first century life she’d left behind.
That she was now somewhere else was clear.
