The Mammoth Book of Time Travel Romance (48 page)

Sombre grey eyes stared back at her. “Because you haven’t run away yet.”

As if she could. He towered over her, blocking her path to the house. Their gazes locked, and her insides screeched to a dizzying halt. She couldn’t take her eyes off his.

He moved towards her. “Please, lass.” He reached out his hand. “I’m desperate.”

Kylie stepped back, confused. His plea sounded heartfelt, and so very real.
Kylie, he appeared out of nowhere . . .
Another step back, and then the sound of wood splintering cracked the air before she could stop herself. She screamed as the dock gave way beneath her. Just as both legs plunged through the rotted wood, Rory dived and grabbed her hands.

“Please, don’t let me go.”

“Nay, girl. I willna.” As if they’d known each other for ever, he pulled her up and into his arms. His firm chest against her cheek, his roughened hands splayed across her back, moving in a slow rhythm.

Then, just as fast as it had occurred, his warmth seeped away, a cool trace of mist remained in its wake. The solidity of his body shifted, and Kylie leaned in to capture it back. She opened her eyes and looked up – and gasped. Rory’s image was growing hazier, thinner.

“Do you remember me, Kylie? You were but eight summers old.”

Kylie scrubbed her eyes, trying to clear her vision. Slowly, he began to fade. She reached for him. “Wait! What’s going on?”

’Tis all right, girl. I can still speak tae you. But I’ll no’ be able tae show myself again until tomorrow’s gloaming hour.

“Oh, God . . .” Staring at the haze until it fully disappeared, she drew a deep breath and swallowed. “You’re a . . .” It sounded crazy, stupid. But what other explanation, besides her pending madness, could it be? She could barely make herself say the word. It sounded absurd. But what else could it be? “Ghost?”

Nay, lass, no’ a ghostie. I dunna think I could solidify, were I dead.
His light chuckle drifted over the marsh.
I wish I could explain it, but that’s why I need you, Kylie. But you should head back tae the house, girl. Should you fall again, I willna be able tae catch you.

She shivered as a childhood memory assaulted her. The dock house, especially during the gloaming. A presence, perhaps – she couldn’t be sure. “I always felt something, but didn’t know what it was.”

He laughed quietly.
Aye, your little nose would crinkle up whenever I’d come aboot.

She exhaled and closed her eyes. “I remember.”

Rory.

She opened her eyes. “What?”

My name’s Rory. An’ I’m desperate tae hear you say it.

A breeze rustled the reeds and cat tails, caressing her cheek as her heart pounded like a feral thing. Yeah, leave it to Kylie Robinson to be turned on by a dead guy. Or whatever he was.

“Rory.” She hadn’t meant for it to come out as a whisper, but it had. She wondered if he’d even heard it. Silence stretched between them as she walked across the yard and into the house. Dummy her, she’d forgotten to leave a lamp on. Easing into the darkness, she stopped after a few feet to gain her bearings.

Say it again.

Kylie jumped. His thick accent brushed her ear, surrounded and moved through her. Every nerve ending in her body hummed with awareness. What was he doing to her? She cleared her throat. “I, uh, thought you needed my help?”

Again that laugh. Sensual and strong, it filled the room and she’d never wished so hard that something could be real in all her life.

Aye, I do need your help, Kylie. Forgive me. You’re most distracting.

Breathe, Kylie Jane, she told herself. She moved until her fingertips brushed the lampshade. She pulled the chain and a dim light settled over the breezeway. A quick glance confirmed that indeed, she was talking to thin air. If he wasn’t a ghost, yet he was invisible, what was he? He’d certainly been very much alive on the dock – his warm, tight embrace still wrapped around her body. Yep. She’d gone and truly lost her mind.

Moving into the kitchen, she made herself a cup of tea and sat down at the table. She peered around the empty room. Again, she cleared her throat. “Rory?”

I’m right here, Kylie Jane.

Yeah, and seemingly right against her neck. Another deep breath. “I’m only called that when I’m in trouble.”

Rory laughed, this time a bit further away.
I know. I heard your granny call you that more times than no’. Truce it is, lass. For now. I’ll no’ be able tae measure my behaviour in the future.

She gulped. A flirty apparition? She could understand that. “OK, so tell me how you think I can help you.”

Verra well.
He let out a heavy sigh.
I’m sae weary, girl. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been searching the river for someone to help me. No one’s been able tae hear or see me – save your granny – until you. I . . . canna seem tae remember things. One minute, my men and I were together, and then next, I was verra much alone.

“You’re a soldier?”

Aye.
His voice moved closer.
I left Nairn in the year of our Lord, seventeen hundred an’ sixty-five, where I joined the Revolution. I havena been back tae Scotland since.

“What happened?”

I remember leading my men through a wood, no’ too far from here. An ambush overtook us, killing several of the lads. We fought like mad, but were outnumbered. What few of us remained was herded into the
Berkshire.

Kylie gasped. “The prison ship
Berkshire
?”

Aye, the verra one. How is it you know o’ her?

“I’m a professor of Georgia History at the University.”

Och, so you can help me then.

Kylie stretched and crossed her legs. “What is it, exactly, you need help with?”

I canna be sure, but all at once, I was leading my men into the ship’s belly. I was shoved from behind, and went sprawling into the pit of the
Berkshire
’s prison. Then, I was afloat, invisible. I could see my men, and the other prisoners of the
Berkshire
, and then . . . they simply disappeared. The verra next thing I knew, I was here.

Her insides chilled. “As crazy as it sounds, I think you must have stumbled into a time slip, or rift, or . . . something.” How unbelievable, to think this man had once lived, fought for a young country not his own, and then just vanished to another time. His family, loved ones, all dead for centuries now. She ached for him.

I’ve waited sae long for you. I always hoped one day you’d have the gift tae see me.

“I remember playing in the dock house. I always felt as though someone stood beside me, calling my name.”

Aye, I tried for many years. Then, you left.

She had left, and sorely regretted it. She’d missed a lot of things in her life by leaving home, and had encountered nothing else but pain. Now, nothing remained of her old life except the old river house. And, her memories. Rinsing out her tea cup, she turned. “Can you see me, Rory?”

A soft chuckle.
Aye.

“So, you can see, hear and speak, just not touch and smell?”

Nor taste. At least, no’ until the gloaming. And for that I have no explanation.

She shivered as the suggestion sounded in her ear. Mercy, what a sexy man, even for one so inaccessible, invisible. Maybe that’s why she hadn’t broken out in a cold sweat, or run away. He seemed just tangible enough to be real . . . yet not real enough to be a threat.

Flipping off the kitchen light, she headed for the bedroom. At the door, she paused. “You’ll be here in the morning, won’t you?”

You have only tae call for me, mo ghraidh.

Her heart slammed against her ribs. “What’s that mean –
mo ghraidh
?”

Och – just an old Scottish endearment, lass.

She steadied herself with a deep breath as the words washed over her. Probably just her silly own wishful reaction. There was a reason she neared thirty and still lived alone. She slipped into her bedroom. “Goodnight, Rory.”

An’ tae you, Kylie.

Saints! What are all those?

Kylie set the crate on the dining room table with a grunt. “Reference volumes from the university library. I’m hoping to find what you’re looking for in one of them. But I’ll warn you, it may take a while. These are quite old, and I had to sneak them past—”

Thank you.

That sexy brogue wrapped around her, enveloped her, and she grabbed the back of the chair to steady herself. Just the way he spoke to her set her insides afire.

You feel it, too. Dunna you, Kylie?

A breeze drifted in through the screen door, like warm breath against her skin. She closed her eyes and inhaled, exhaled. She didn’t want to feel it. But she did.

She opened her eyes and started unpacking the volumes. “I’d better get started on these, Rory. It’s a lot of material to read through.”

Several hours later, she’d managed to get through the first book. With a heavy sigh, Kylie pushed her glasses on to her head and closed the volume. “This is insane. It could take a year to go through all this information, and I’m not even sure what I’m looking for.” The bones in her knees popped as she stood and stretched. The blades of the ceiling fan sent a feathery breeze across her skin, and the scent of jasmine drifted in through the porch screen.

Come outside with me. The gloaming draws near, and I want every second o’ it wi’ you.

Kylie sucked in a breath. “I thought you wanted my help.”

It’s you I want.

She gulped. It was one thing to be with a ghost you couldn’t see. Quite a different story, though, when said ghost solidified, regaining all mortal senses.

Lifting the heavy volume, she moved to the cool shade of the verandah. The sturdy rocking chair creaked as she sat down. Stretching her legs out, she propped them on the railing and crossed them at the ankles. The soft, gauzy sundress slipped above her knees as she rocked, but she barely noticed. Memories of her childhood flooded back, and she welcomed the deluge.

What are you thinking aboot, girl?

He sat beside her, close. She sighed. “God, I spent hours shelling peas with Grandma and Grandpa on this very porch. It seems so . . . long ago. Another lifetime even.” Every scent, every sound encompassed a cherished memory. When had she allowed them to fade? When had she forgotten the scent of lilac her granny used to wear? Or how her grandpa’s hands were gnarled and calloused from a hard-working life at the railroad, and prior to that, having survived Omaha Beach? Now, flashes of her as a child sitting on her grandpa’s lap, holding one of his large hands in two of hers, battered her. God, how she missed them.

Cicadas tweaked and chirped, and songbirds settled in for the night. The ever-present bubbling of the outgoing tide filled the air. And a barrage of high-pitched croaks emerged from the canopy of Georgia pines and magnolias.

Just as she moved to open the volume in her lap, a heavy hand rested on her bare shoulder. Her skin heated under it.

“Walk wi’ me.”

She lifted her gaze and met his light grey stare. He looked so real, from the sun lines at the corners of his eyes to the muscle ticking at his jaw, to the dark auburn hair pulled into a queue. Butterflies beat madly within her, setting her nerves on edge. To think a Scotsman from the Revolutionary War, who had centuries before slipped through a crack in time, made her react in such a silly way. Oh, how Granny would roar with laughter.

She stood and he took her hand, placing it in the crook of his arm. They walked and talked, he of his life and she of hers.

It was a comfortable walk with Rory; a familiar ease that Kylie admired in wonderment. To think he’d been at Granny’s on the Vernon River all these years, and she’d been . . . elsewhere. So much had happened in those years she’d been gone. God, how she regretted them all.

Rory’s gloved hand reached out, and a long finger traced the scar down her left arm. Reflexively, Kylie flinched.

“What happened?” Rory asked, his voice so quiet Kylie barely heard the question above the song of the cicadas.

Kylie’s stomach tightened at the jarring, unwanted memory, and without her permission, her breathing became rapid. She swallowed several times. “I . . . don’t like to talk about it,” she said quietly. “It’s something I’ve put behind me.”

Rory stopped, pulling her to a halt. Gently, he turned her to face him. Kylie refused to look at him.

“I dunna think you’ve put it behind you, lass.” He lifted her chin with his knuckle, traced the scar on her face. “Look at me.”

Kylie forced herself to meet his pewter gaze. Her insides shook.

“You can trust me.”

Kylie fought back tears, not wanting to relive the events that nearly ended her life. But when she looked into the kind, trusting eyes of Rory MacMillan, her fears began to fade. Then, a feeling of certainty washed over her, and suddenly it felt right to trust him.