He finally reached around her and took over the controls, guiding the sled to a small clearing at the base of a south-facing ledge. He shut off the engine and climbed off, pulled off his helmet, and watched as Libby’s head slowly emerged from her own helmet to reveal a beatific smile.
“That was wonderful,” she said, her eyes gleaming with delight as she patted the sled affectionately. “I’m buying one of these babies. I saw a map at the Dolans’ store that showed how you can travel the entire state on a snowmobile.”
Michael took her helmet, tossed it onto the ground, pulled her into his arms, and kissed her beautiful smile.
She tasted sweeter than ever, with just a hint of hot apple cider laced with cinnamon. She felt so precious and tiny, even in her plump down winter jacket, that he couldn’t get enough of her. He lifted her off her feet and groaned in satisfaction when she wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck and moaned into his mouth.
He strode up to the ledge and found a place free of snow and covered with dry, fluffy grass. He set her down and followed her, until she was comfortably beneath him—all without breaking their kiss.
Not that she’d let him. She was gripping his hair, wiggling restlessly against him until he thought he would burst into flames, making sweet little mewling sounds of urgency.
Aye, it had been far too long since they’d made love.
With herculean effort, he stopped, pulled Libby’s hands from around his neck, and clasped them between their bodies as he stared into her passion-filled eyes.
“We can’t, Libby.”
“I put three condoms in the backpack. And a blanket.”
Michael shook his head, smiling tightly at her obvious want. “Nay, lass. I brought you up here to talk.”
“We will. After. Please, Michael, make love to me.”
He shook his head again, kissed the tip of her nose, and rolled over until he was sitting upright beside her. He wrapped his arms around his knees and stared at the distant, frozen waters of Pine Lake tucked in the valley below.
“Have ya not wondered, Libby, why I so easily accept Daar as a wizard?” he asked softly.
She sat up beside him, and Michael could feel her eyes fixed on his face. He did not look at her but continued to stare at Pine Lake.
“I wondered,” she admitted. “But there was so much I was trying to deal with that I… it didn’t seem important.” She set one tiny hand on his arm. “Why do you believe in wizards?”
He finally looked over and met her turbulent, worried, and somewhat frightened gaze.
“He really is adrùidh, lass. I know, because I have personally felt his powers. It was in the yearA .D. 1200, and I was engaged in a battle with Greylen MacKeage.”
“A battle with Grey? Wh-when?” she whispered.
Michael turned and lifted her onto his lap, wrapping his arms tightly around her, bringing her eyes level with his. “I was born in the year 1171, Libby. I’m more than eight hundred years old.”
She tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let her.
He continued his tale. “During this battle, I caught sight of an old man standing on a bluff above us, his arms outstretched and a long staff held high in his hand. A great storm broke over us, darkening the sky to night, filling the air with a powerful wind and sizzling bolts of lightning. And suddenly, I was falling, tumbling through what I can only describe as blinding white energy. I felt as if I did not exist for that brief moment of time, merely consumed.”
The woman on his lap had gone deathly still, her eyes wide and her complexion pale.
Still Michael continued, determined to make her understand exactly who he was.
“My next conscious thought was that I hadn’t died, after all. I was lying in a field of tall grass and could hear the moans of my men, broken only by the screams of our frightened horses.” He tightened his hands on her arms, more to keep them from trembling than to hold her.
“Greylen MacKeage was lying beside me. Five of my own warriors were there, and Callum and Morgan and Ian MacKeage. Our horses struggled to their feet and stood quivering, breathing hard and snorting in terror, not knowing which way to run to safety. We knew not what had happened or where the threat lay.”
Libby lifted one tiny gloved hand to his face and ran a finger down his taut cheek.
“Where were you?” she whispered.
“In modern-day Scotland.” He captured her hand and held it against his chest, over his pounding heart. “That was twelve years ago, Libby. The five MacBains who were with me are dead now. Only the MacKeages remain from that day. And Daar. His real name is Pendaär, and he is adrùidh .”
She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. She simply turned her gaze to her hand held against his chest.
Michael lifted her chin and smiled. “Your secret is not so terrible, lass, when compared with mine. That ya have this gift to heal people is a wondrous thing, Libby. And that I can understand your powers is my gift to you.”
She was frowning now, staring at his chest again. “You’re saying that you traveled eight hundred years through time? That you were born in medieval Scotland, and a wizard cast a spell and brought you here?” she finished softly, raising turbulent, misting brown eyes back up at him.
“Aye, Libby. That is what happened. As God is my witness, I don’t know how or why, just that it is. And for the last twelve years, I have been learning to live with the fact.”
She threw herself against him, wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him fiercely, her lips touching his ear as she whispered, “Oh, Michael, I’m so sorry for what happened to you.”
He took hold of her shoulders and held her away, staring into her tear-soaked eyes.
“Don’t ya dare be sorry,” he growled. “I have accepted my fate, and it is you who must do the same now.”
She blinked, clearly surprised by his anger. “But—”
“You are born of a time whendrùidhs and magic and miracles are considered suspect, Libby,” he continued with gentle force. “Ya cannot comprehend what ya cannot touch or see. But I am from a time where magic was almost a religion and very much a part of everyday life. It is through me that you can come to accept your abilities and embrace them instead of fearing them. It may very well be the reason I’m here, lass.” He suddenly smiled. “And Robbie. He was needing to be born, I think, from a wonderful woman who was very special herself. Robbie’s destiny is yet to be revealed, but I do know that it’s my destiny to be here with him. And with you.
“Which is also why,” he continued before she could respond, keeping the steel in his voice, “we’re getting married tomorrow.”
“Married! Tomorrow!” she sputtered, her own voice cracking with surprise.
Michael nodded curtly.
“But you don’t want to get married!” she hissed, scrambling off his lap. She pointed her finger at him. “I will not live with a man who can’t love me.”
He leaned back against the ledge, crossing his feet at the ankles and his arms over his chest. “But I do love you,” he softly declared.
She suddenly looked as if she might explode. “You do not! You can’t. You said you have nothing left to give a woman.”
“I was wrong.”
“I’m an aberration. A freak of nature.”
“Then we will be freaks together.” He stood up until he towered over her and smiled.
“But we will be married freaks, Libby. You belong to me. And we will spend the rest of our unnatural lives as man and wife, embracing our destinies together.”
Michael reached for Libby the moment he realized she was about to crumble in a mess of overwhelmed confusion and quickly sat down again, cradling her against his chest.
“Ah, lass. For as much as you’ve been needing an anchor, so have I. We can ground each other, Libby. Our combined strengths can keep us sane, and together we can help Robbie grow into a fine man as he sets out to find his own destiny.”