Page 87 of The Secret of Emerald Cottage

She shook her head, gaze trailing into a faraway stare. “Which is odd because I felt like I could see him, but not really, because it was dark and he was in the shadows. Almost like he blended in, as if dressed in black too. You know what I mean?”

He smiled and softly tapped her nose. “No, because I don’t have nightmares like you, remember?” His smile skewed to the right. “Unless you count Sloan Kennedy.”

A hint of a smile flickered on her beautiful mouth as she wagged a threatening finger, which didn’t threaten him in the least, only made him grin right back. “You were downright rude to him tonight, Breccan McGill, which doesn’t make points with me, you know. Not only is it impolite and ill-mannered, sir, but it could be considered downright obnoxious for someone who claims to be pursuing faith.”

Ouch.

Properly chastened, he slowly slid his hand close to where hers rested on the covers, ignoring the catch of her breath when his pinky tangled with hers. “Forgive me, please?” he whispered. “This is all new to me, lass, but I’m trying. Really I am.”

Eyes softening, she turned to give him a light hug before pulling away to skim her fingers along the edge of his jaw. “I know you are, Brec, and it makes me love you a little bit more every single day.”

A grin broke through as he cupped his hand over hers with a near-cocky smile. “So you love me now, do ya?”

Her lips squirmed, halfway between serious and a smile while she tugged her hand free from beneath his. “Maybe a wee bit, Soccer Boy, against my better judgement, I might add, but it’s not a done deal by a long shot. Especially the way you’ve been treating Sloan Kennedy, because he’s my friend and I want him to be your friend too.”

Brec’s Adam’s apple ducked hard. “I know, lass, but it’s not easy seeing you with him, you know?”

Her gaze gentled. “I know, but neither is true love, Brec, the kind with God smack-dab in the center. That’s the only thing I plan to settle for ever again, so if that’s what you’re looking for with me—”

“It is,” he said quickly, voice gruff as he cradled her face in his hands, never more sure of anything in his life. He felt the constriction of her throat as she swallowed hard, and the love he saw in her eyes caused his heart to thud hard, giving him no choice but to test the strength of her feelings. Gazes locked, he leaned in ever so slowly to gently brush his lips against hers, eyes sinking closed at the wonder of the feelings whirling inside. I love you, lass, he wanted to say, but knew he couldn’t risk it. Not until he knew for sure that she loved him the same way.

Unequivocally.

Undeniably.

Utterly and exclusively his.

And to prove it, he fought the raging desire to kiss her again and pulled away instead, exhaling a shaky breath as he tunneled trembling fingers through his hair. “So,” he said with a gruff clear of his throat, “I’ll work on it with Sloan, how’s that?”

Those lush lips curved into the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen. “Perfect.”

His mouth took a slant. “Not yet, Princess, but it will be. So …” He slapped his palms together. “Back to the dream. Did either one say anything?”

She hesitated briefly before a light dawned in her eyes. “Yes … I … think so. It seems like I heard something like”—she kneaded her temple as if to jar the memory loose—“‘You’re a monster … and I’m going to …to …’” Huffing out a sharp groan of frustration, she shook her head. “I can’t remember.”

“Hurt him? Kill him? Beat him to a pulp?”

“I don’t know ...” She looked up in a squint. “Wait—maybe, ‘make him pay?’ I’m just not sure.”

“Was that the end of the dream?”

She flopped back against the headboard with a heavy sigh. “No, but the rest of it is so vague in my mind, except for this loud noise—I do remember that.”

“What kind of noise?”

“Uh”—she wagged her hands as if struggling to find the right word—“like a loud boom or pop.”

Brec wrinkled his nose. “Like an explosion?”

She shook her head. “No, more like a”—she looked up, eyes going wide—“a gunshot, I think.” She paused, looking up at the ceiling in a squint. “Yes, that had to be what it was because it’s coming back to me now, a smell in the air, like gunpowder.”

“So Greg shot someone, you think?”

She gave a slow nod before her gaze rose to meet his. “Yes … yes, I think so because the other person collapsed as I recall, as if into a puddle.”

“A puddle? What kind of puddle?”

Her gaze drifted off again into a faraway look, face scrunched as if she were straining to remember. “A dark puddle, black and wavy, like a lake on a moonless night.”

“Like Aunt Lilly’s cove?”

She shook her head. “Maybe, but I don’t think so. More like”—her lashes lowered as if straining to remember—“like … like maybe a black blanket tossed on the ground? Or black material spread out in a heap?” She suddenly caught her breath hard, the sound almost violent in the darkness as her breathing accelerated to heaving. “Oh, Brec,” she said, voice cracking, the horror in her eyes as palpable as the chill that skittered his spine. “I remember now. It was … it was”—her hand flew to her mouth as she gasped—“a black robe!”