“When ye shine the light in it, what do you see?”
“Nothing. It curves to the right so I can only see about a
foot in.”
Duncan scrubbed the sweat off the back of his neck,
wanting to roar. “Whatever ye do, don’t stick your hand in
there, okay? Let me think for a minute.”
“Too late.”
“Goddamn it, get back out here. Now!”
He was answered by silence, and if he wasn’t mistaken,
even the mountain seemed to be holding its breath.
“Peg!” he roared. “Answer me, dammit!”
“I … um, I’m stuck.”
He closed his eyes to lean his forehead on the granite
above the tunnel. “Stuck as in ye just need to relax and
you’l get free,” he asked softly, “or stuckstuck?”
“As in ‘the mountain closed around my wrist’ stuck. Um,
Duncan, why can’t I hear it breathing anymore?”
Christ, she sounded scared. Calm, but scared. “I don’t
know, lass.” He sat back on his heels and studied the
granite to the right of the cave again. “Ye said the tunnel
curved back on itself, so that means you’re only … what? A
few feet from me?”
“I’d say that’s about right.”
“And the hole your hand is stuck in, is it coming toward
me?”
“Yup.”
“Is the mountain hurting ye, Peg?”
“No, it’s just holding me. I can feel something, though. My
fingers are touching … metal, I think. Large hoops, like
bracelets or something. Two of them; both thick and wide,
but one feels slightly smal er.”
“Stop touching them and see if the mountain releases
you.”
“Nope; stil stuck.” He heard a nervous laugh. “Have we
offended Providence?”
“Nay, Peg. It takes a lot to offend such a benevolent
force.” He sat down to rest his arms on his knees, blowing
out a heavy sigh when he realized the truth of his words.
They hadn’t pissed off Providence; it was just wanting
something more from them before it released its prize—
which as far as he was concerned was Peg. “Do ye believe
in the magic yet, lass?” he asked softly.
He heard a muffled snort. “Pretty much. Um, do you?”
Duncan stil ed. Did he?
He certainly didn’t doubt it existed, having seen it in
action more times than he cared to remember. But did he
believe he had the magic in him? Because if he did, he
sure as hel didn’t need anything to work it other than belief
itself; the magic didn’t come from an instrument of power, it
came from the heart of the person needing the miracle. The
object—be it a staff or sword or bracelet—was just a
symbol of potential, a tangible means to turn that potential
outward from the heart into the physical world.
“A-are you stil there?”
Duncan scrambled to his knees and slowly ran his hands
over the granite where he estimated she was trapped. “I’m
stil here, Peg. And in about one minute you’re going to be
here with me. Close your eyes, lass, and turn your head
away.”
“What are you going to do?” she asked, the calm having
left her voice.
“Hush. Listen. Do ye hear that soft thumping?” he asked
conversational y as he pressed his palms against the
granite and felt it begin to pulse in rhythm with his own
thumping heart. “I’m waking the mountain up from its nap,
Peg.” He pressed harder, feeling his hands heating up as
the granite slowly softened to the consistency of putty.
Duncan closed his eyes against the bril iant swirls of
white energy that suddenly pulsed around him, but not
before realizing it was coming from himinstead of the wal s
of the cave. He put the backs of his hands together and
slipped them inside the yielding granite, then spread the
wal with no more effort than opening a curtain.
Peg slammed into him with the force of her entire weight,
sending him sprawling onto his back as he wrapped his
arms around her with a laugh.
“Ohmigod. Ohmigod,” she muttered. “How did you do
that?”
He kissed the top of her head, squeezing her so hard
she squeaked. “By magic.”
She looked at him, then reared away as far as his
embrace would al ow. “You … Your eyes are … they’re …
ohmigod, they’re green.”
He gave a chuckle. “I’m fairly certain they’ve always been
green.”
“No, greengreen. A brighter … scarier green.”
He pul ed her down and kissed her, not stopping until he
felt her soften against him, only to sigh when he realized
she wasn’t returning the kiss.
She was back to being contrary, he guessed.
She sat up straddling him the moment he stopped and
held out her hand. “Here; I believe these are what you were
after?”
Duncan lifted his head just enough to see the two
dark cuffs she was holding, then dropped back with another
sigh. “You can keep them, as I just realized I don’t need
them after al .”
She slapped them down on his chest hard enough to
make him grunt, then leaned forward until her face was right
over his—he assumed so he could better see her scowl. “I
just risked dying a slow, gruesome death to get your
instrument of power, and you’re tel ing me you don’t need
it?” she said far too softly.
He shook his head, fighting back a grin. “Nay, I wouldn’t
have let ye rot in there, Peg. It’s just not in me to give up.”
He final y let his grin escape. “I would have kept bringing ye
food and water until Mac got back and freed you if I couldn’t
jackhammer the granite to get ye out.”
“Two months?” she whispered, her own eyes growing a
bit scary. “You expected me to sit there with my hand stuck
in a hole for two months?” She picked up the cuffs and
shook them in front of his face. “I have no idea what in hel
these are, but you’re going to wear them if I have to hit you
over the head with a blunt object and put them on you
myself.”
He took them from her and sat up, only al owing her to
scramble back as far as his thighs. He grabbed her left
wrist and, ignoring her gasp, slipped the smal er cuff on
over her hand—watching with satisfaction as it immediately
molded itself to her arm just above her wrist.
She gasped again when she tried to get it off but
couldn’t. “Ohmigod,” she whispered, lifting huge worried
eyes to his. “What did you just do?”
He started to slip his own cuff down over his right hand,
but then quickly switched it to his dominant left hand and felt
it gently close over his arm. “I believe I just sealed our fates
together—forever.” He took hold of her face to lift her gaze
to his. “Ye know a man who works around heavy machinery
can’t wear a wedding band.”
“A … a … wed … a wedding band?” She tried to look at
his wrist only to lift her arm to see her own cuff when he
wouldn’t let go of her face. “Aren’t you supposed to … Do
you honestly expect me to believe …”
Duncan nodded when she fel silent, and he brushed his
thumbs over her pale cheeks. “We’l have a ceremony for
the sake of the children, of course, but ye need to know it’s
only a formality.”
“You’re supposed to ask,” she snapped.
“Wil ye marry me, Peg?”
“No.”
“Christ, you’re contrary—which is exactly why I didn’t
ask,” he said, watching a flush of red spread across her
cheeks. He leaned down until his nose was touching hers.
“Too late, lass; you became mine last night.”
She went back to scowling at him as she lifted her arm to