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I look at Dugald and shake my head. He nods understanding, but doesn’t say anything. The air is thick between us with unspoken things but then what words could encompass all these feelings? It’s too much to ask of such a flimsy construct as sounds. These are concepts that are too big to fit into their confines.
I sigh, shake my head, and go to another shelf to continue the hunt for a book of magic that might or might not even be in this room. There are so many books it could take weeks to sort them all. Right now, we’re running on blind luck and hoping for a break.
All the books are ancient tomes with thick leather-bound covers and gilded pages. I flip through some, but the script is in a swirling calligraphy of a language I can’t read. Some of the books have pictures that are intriguing, but none of them jump out asthebook or give me even the slightest tingle of magical power.
Duncan works his way closer, and his presence is like the warmth of a good sherpa blanket on a chill fall evening. I want nothing more than to cuddle up with him next to a crackling fire and relax. Even his smell fills my head with thoughts of home and hearth. In my old world I’d have a good book on my kindle, and he’d probably be watching some sports team. In this world we’ll share when this is over, maybe we’ll watch our kids. Or musicians performing around the village common fire.
It’s comforting, a soothing balm to my soul. A reminder that life isn’t supposed to be crazy like this and that what I really want is a good man at my side. More than a good man, a man whom I can love and who loves me. Who accepts me for who and what I am, and I do the same in return.
His fingers brush my hand as his eyes dart towards mine and he has a boyish grin on his face. His long hair is disheveled, hanging over his face. He’s shirtless under the piece of the kilt going over his shoulder, putting the flexing of his pectoral muscles on full display.
He’s not a big man, but he is very fit. Life in the Highlands will do that for you. He continues finding excuses to casually touch me. Subtle, little touches but I quickly find I’m looking forward to each of them. I need them, more than I’d ever care to admit.
Our romance has been a whirlwind of action, forced separation, and danger. Now that I recall my past lives, I understand how much of it has been based on unrecalled memories; that’s how I knew I loved him the moment I met him. It was instant, but love isn’t that easy, is it?
Sure, he’s sexy and a physical attraction was present right off, but that’s not love. I wonder if that isn’t why there are so many divorces in the modern world. People confusing love and lust. That primal urge of genetics that the person you see is good material for the next generation of humans versus the heart.
“I love you, Quinn,” Duncan whispers, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Dugald isn’t too close.
“I love you,” I reply in whisper. A stolen moment. “Always.”
His smile is broad and lights up his face in all the right ways. I’d be hard-pressed to believe the ordeals he’s been through looking at that smile, but the scars of those trials are in his eyes and on his face.
He doesn’t hide them, but he isn’t letting them define him either. That’s another thing I remember now. He’s always had an uncanny knack for living in the moment. The past is done and for Duncan the future is endlessly bright.
Dugald is the opposite, a brooder. Obsessing over his mistakes and always concerned with the future. While he’s also a good man, something about Duncan and his zest for life is infectious. You can’t be around him and not feel happier.
“What’s this?” Duncan asks.
He has his hand on the spine of a book and though he’s trying to pull it off the shelf, it doesn’t move. His mouth turns into a grin, and he pulls again. The book tilts and something clicks. The bookcase shifts forward.
We move back and Duncan pulls the case. It slides open with only a whisper of sound to reveal a doorway into a small chamber. Dugald cuts Duncan off, stepping in front of him. Duncan’s chest puffs and his mouth opens but I put my hand on his arm, stopping the impending fighting.
“He has a sword,” I say.
Duncan frowns, looks over at Dugald’s back, then shrugs and nods.
“Aye,” he agrees. “I’ll let him take the lead.”
I give him a smile, then follow Dugald. We step into a small room, maybe eight feet square, and it feels crowded with all three of us pushing in. On the far wall is a full-length mirror, and as soon as I walk in my skin tingles.
“There’s magic here,” I say.
“Aye,” Dugald agrees.
He moves around the walls, using his free hand to test each of them, pressing then knocking. Duncan stays protectively at my side, watching the other man. My eyes are on the mirror. It grasps my attention.
The reflection is of me, but something is off. I chew my lip as I stare, trying to figure out what’s off about the reverse image. I see myself and the room around me but then it hits me.
“Duncan!” I exclaim.
Duncan jumps, his fists leaping to a defense, ready to attack.
“Aye?” he asks, looking around for the threat.
“The mirror,” I point at it. “Look, you’re not in it.”
Dugald moves up to the mirror. He’s cautious about his approach, taking his time and coming at it from the side, not head-on. He leans in front of it and even though his body should be blocking the view of mine, he doesn’t appear in the mirror either. It still reflects only me. Duncan steps forward, putting himself between the mirror and me but he still doesn’t show up.
