Remembered (Erotic Romance) (Bound By Time) (5 page)

Despite deciding on
a course of action, I still couldn't quite bring myself to open the little
plastic bag, so I slipped it into my pocket instead. Once I slung my backpack
over my shoulder, I began my descent.

Within a few
seconds, a pervasive warmth suffused me -- especially my heart and the lower
half of my body. Unsure why, I immediately looked at my shirt.  Nothing had
changed, yet an odd feeling made my heart speed up.

I've read that you
should heed those odd feelings because they almost always signal that something
isn't right, or is about to go wrong. Instantly I was on edge, but what good
did it do?  There was nothing but me and Mother Nature on a very safe trail. A
moment later, I had my answer.

Lightning began streaking
through the sky, close enough to cause me concern. It didn't make sense.  But
at least I didn't hear thunder, so the lightning was probably miles and miles
away. I had plenty of time to reach my car before a storm would hit.

Taking one last
look at the panoramic beauty of the area, I hurried back toward my car. I hadn't
gone more than a tenth of a mile when I was overcome by a feeling I'd never had
before. Tears began running down my cheeks.

What on earth was
going on? The only other time in my life where I had such an inexplicable urge
to weep was when I was in my senior year of high school and I was on vacation
in Ireland with my parents. We were in a church that was 900 years old.

As I listened to
the church's history, I was overcome by such a strong feeling, it felt as if
someone was crushing my chest.  I could scarcely breathe and tears began
running down my cheeks.

 I saw flashes of
things that seemed so real that it felt like I was experiencing them -- or had
experienced them -- long, long ago. I saw a man watching my reaction from the
back of the group, but then he was gone. I never forgot his face. He was lean,
and looked like a Native American, though I supposed he was more likely from
India or perhaps even Asia.

For a long time
after my emotion-filled experience inside the famous church's walls, I wondered
what had really happened that day. Had my imagination simply gotten the better
of me? Or had I experienced a vision of the past that I had been a part of?  

It made me wonder
about the reality of past lives. When our bodies die physically, do our souls
take on another body? If so, is our new life similar to, or very different than,
our previous one? Do our values stay the same? Do we seek the same things we
sought in our former life?

Eventually I
stopped obsessing over trying to find the answers to my questions, mainly
because I didn't think they had answers.

So when I reached
in my pocket for my handkerchief, I guess I still must have been a bit muddled because
I blindly pulled out the sandwich bag which now was open. As I touched it, my
fingers made contact with the bit of cloth that Mac sent in the envelope.

My feet suddenly
felt made of lead. I stopped in my tracks and was instantly assailed by the
oppressive feeling that had me in its clutches so many years earlier in
Ireland.

The sandwich bag
stayed in my pocket, but the cloth was now open in my hands as a long triangle.
As I suspected and dreaded, it was the same size as the piece missing from my
blouse -- though it was faded and perhaps a bit thinner, as if it had aged.

Lightning sizzled across
the sky. A gust of wind came up from the side of the bluff and ruffled my
shirt, though I was only aware of the wind and lightning as nuisances. I
couldn't seem to tear my gaze from the cloth.

As tears continued to
fall for a reason I was unable to fathom, I placed my hand on my shirt. The piece
of fabric I had in my hand began to pull away from me as if trying to become
one with its bigger piece.

"Mac!" I
cried as a bolt of lightning scorched the air in front of me, blinding me. I
don't know why I called for him and not my mom or dad. All I knew in that
instant, was that Mac was the reason this moment was happening.

Before I Was Born

I'm not sure how
long darkness kept me in its embrace. I only know it had to be a long time
because it was nearing sunset when I opened my eyes. At the same time, I heard
someone speaking to me in a language I was unfamiliar with, though syllables of
it sounded lyrical and pleasant in my ears.

The language sounded
Irish, but it wasn't. Still, the brogue sound was very appealing. Then the
words switched to English.

"Lass! Lass!
Can ye hear me, lass?"

I blinked a couple
times to clear my foggy vision and found myself looking into a pair of the most
beautiful eyes I'd ever seen. And they belonged to a handsome man. Familiar,
too, though I couldn't immediately place where I'd seen him before.

I forced my eyes
away from him to take in the area, because something didn't feel quite right. Beyond
the man, I saw hills and the ruins of what looked like a castle.  And to his
side was a pastoral scene. On the other side was a nice old home and a sturdy
barn that looked more functional than up-to-date. Sheep and beautifully spotted
cows grazed beyond an enclosed area.

Where had the farm
come from? There were no farms near the trail. And the farms near me were home
to black cows, not gloriously colorful cows.

But I couldn't keep
my glance away from the man for long. 

There was something
about his eyes. They were a beautiful color -- almost, but not quite navy -- if
I had to pick a color. His hair was thick and such a dark auburn it was almost
black. I blinked. I knew just by the look of it, that it would have dark auburn
highlights in the sun.

"
Ti'n iawn?"

When
I didn't say anything, he asked, "
Are ye okay? Who are ye?"

The man was most
likely European judging by his accent, but what was he doing in South Dakota?
Probably heading for the Badlands or Mount Rushmore, I surmised. But what was
he doing on this out-of-the-way trail that only locals used?

I nodded. "What
happened?" Then I did a double-take. I did see a castle, though it did
look a bit rundown. How on earth had I missed a castle in Sioux Falls?

"Not sure."

His voice snapped
my attention back to his face.

"I went to check
the gate and here ye were."

I knew I was
frowning, but boy oh boy there was something familiar about the man in front of
me, who I guessed to be about my age.

He turned away from
me, presumably to check the gate. It gave me an opportunity to check
him
out a little better. And if he did catch me looking at him, he would only think
I was dazed or confused. Or both.

His lips were manly
and full. And even in his crouched position, I could tell he was tall and had a
muscular build. The man had a strong neck and broad shoulders, like he was used
to heavy lifting.

"How old are
you?" I asked.

"Ye don't care
about my name? Or where ye are?" he asked, turning back to face me, his
lips quirking in amusement.

Suddenly it hit me.
This man was somehow related to Mac. I could hear it in his voice. Maybe it was
Mac's son.  In a way I hoped it wasn't, because I knew his son wasn't a nice
person. I knew, too, that it probably wasn't Mac's son, because he wasn't
related by birth to him, and this man
had
to be related to Mac
biologically.

"Mac?" I
asked. What I meant to say, was, "Are you related to Mac?" but only
one word came out.

The man's beautiful
eyes widened and he stared at me for a moment. "Do I know ye?" he
asked in that glorious, sexy brogue of his, though he still hadn't said that he
was or wasn't Mac. Or even if he was related to him.

"I don't think
so," I said, still staring at the light stubble of whiskers across the
lower half of his face. I reached up and placed my hand on his cheek for a
reason I couldn't fathom, except to say it felt natural.

He didn't pull away
from me. Instead, he put his hand over mine. It felt reassuring, comforting,
and sexy all at the same time.

"Ye hit yer
head," he said.

"No I didn't,"
I said. "Well, maybe I did, but I'm not delirious or anything." I
couldn't take my eyes off his face.  He was my dream man in the flesh. And
speaking of flesh, I wanted to touch more of him.

He slowly moved my
hand down primly at my side, though his glance never wavered from mine.

"What's yer
name, lass?"

"Penny."

"Lovely."

Me or my name? I
guess it didn't matter. I tried to sit up. My backpack was still slung over my
shoulder, which accounted for the pain in my side.

The man quickly
helped me slip it off.

"Broken bones,
ye think?" he asked.

I moved my arms and
legs. Stiff, but nothing worse. I guessed I'd know for sure when I tried to
stand.

As if reading my
mind, Mr. Sexy held out a hand. I gave him my right and he clasped it in his
strong warm one. Then he bent over and used his other hand to cradle my back as
he helped me to my feet.

Instantly I felt
woozy. "Oh!" I said as I teetered.

He quickly brought
me against his chest and I felt my heartbeat speed up. My head was nestled
against his neck and the side of his whisker-roughened face. We were close to
the same height so we fit together nicely.

"Sorry,"
I said, though I most definitely was not. I forced myself to step away from him
so I could regain my composure. The second I did, I felt like I'd been slapped
with an Arctic breeze.

"Ye're chilled,"
he said.

I shook my head, my
gaze seeking his. God, he was nice to look at. And even if he wasn't, his
glorious voice would have made up for it.

"Come inside
and warm yerself."

He took my hand
again and scooped up my backpack in his other hand and led me to the large
house stone. This didn't look like the Native American trail at all. This
looked lush and fertile. A lot like Ireland. Not a bit like South Dakota.

Something wasn't right
-- bordering on very wrong. I knew it from the second I found myself here, but
now a strange sense of déjà vu began to grip me.

"Where are we?"
I asked.

"My
farm," he said.

"
Where
is
your farm?"

"Outside of
Conwy. Where'd ye think ye were?"

"Conwy, Wales?"
I asked.

He frowned, his
brow coming together a bit, but if anything it only made him more attractive.
He was probably thinking that I'd bonked my head on something. Or wasn't right
in the head to start off with.

"Aye." He
looked at me again. "Where'd ye think ye were?" he repeated.

Man oh man, he was
hunky. And what made him even sexier was the fact that he  seemed completely
unaware of his charm. And then there were those full lips and broad shoulders
and...

"Lass?"
he prompted.

Gawking at the
perfection of his face and body wasn't going to solve the mystery, so I took
another sneaky look around. The nearest place that could even pass for this
type of setting was a good 500 miles away from Sioux Falls.

"Sorry. I'm
just not feeling quite right."

"I can see
that, and I don't even know ye. Let's go inside and have at ye." He paused
and drank in my eyes with his sexy glance and I swooned.

He quickly put a
hand on me to steady me. Not where I would have liked to have him put it, but
it was a start.

"Thank you. I guess
I do feel a bit ... woozy," I said.

And with that, the man
swung me up into his arms and walked with me to the house as easily as if I
were a feather.

I felt the taught
hardness of his biceps and forearms as we walked. This man was a man who
actually worked, yet there was a keenness about him that said he was much more
than that.

I felt his breath
on my forehead as he tilted his head to look at me.  I didn't look up. I wasn't
sure what my response would be. Either I would giggle like a silly schoolgirl,
or start staring and be unable to stop.

He strode the two
sets of stone steps to the porch and shifted so he could open the door with me
still in his arms.

When we stepped
inside, I saw that the interior of the home was surprising clean, though it
reminded me of a house where older people lived. Paintings -- they looked real
-- of ancestors in odd clothing lined one wall of a formal area just past the
foyer.

Whose house was
this? It didn't look as if it was a home the man would call his own.

"This house
has been in my family for five generations," he said, as if reading my
mind. "I recently inherited it, but haven't had the time nor inclination
to do anything to it yet."

"It's
beautiful," I said. Something clicked in my brain then.