Hearing him say it aloud made my breaths come in quick, shallow bursts as I began to hyperventilate. Too many thoughts ran through a mind thoroughly unprepared to adapt to such a shock. The room whirled around, and I grabbed onto his forearms, his solid body grounding me.
Clarity somehow came in the midst of my insanity. My voice fell to a whisper as I said slowly, “Kiss me again and touch the box.” The command sounded simple enough. I fought with myself, wanting desperately to go straight to Denial Land, but assuming what I’d heard held any thread of truth, I wanted to go back. Now.
He sighed and raised a hand, touching my fingers that gripped his arm like a vice. The gesture soothed me even though I didn’t want to be calmed. “I’ll do as you ask, but I doona think your plan will work.” He rendered his opinion without emotion.
He pulled me closer, and I breathed in the scent of him. If I thought modern-day Iain overpowered my senses, it only served as an appetizer to the main course. His pheromones spoke the same language as mine. Touches of pine and earth that had always been familiar to me were stronger now, including the base note of strong male essence that was pure Iain. In the small room, we stood within reach of the magical, time-warping box. Before either of us reached out to touch its surface, he grasped both my hands tightly.
“Promise me, Isobel. Promise me, no matter what happens, you’ll stay with me.” He raised his eyebrows slightly, searching my eyes with hope.
I, on the other hand, approached mind-numbing hysteria. I tried to hide in my deep breaths. Not sure where my voice had gone, I simply nodded, uncertain if I could promise anything at that point, frantically needing to regain a firm hold of reality—my modern-day reality.
He gave me a single nod, pulling my body tighter against him. I almost laughed—the guy sure knew how to milk the situation—but my inner scientist warred with the part of me that believed his explanation, dousing my sense of humor. I needed to believe his truth to get back, though, didn’t I?
Feeling a bit like Dorothy in her ruby slippers, her words and wishes played through my mind as Iain’s lips descended on mine. There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home. The cadence continued in my head as he kissed me sweetly at first, then more fervently as we both gave in to the passion of the moment. His hand, still holding mine, pulled away from our bodies and slowly lowered to the top of the box.
Upon initial contact, I expected a jolt. Still enjoying the erotic contact, I waited for something to happen. When no falling feeling occurred, I deepened the kiss, thinking my mantra had thrown things off. I tried to duplicate the intensity of our first world-tilting kiss, and he pressed his body further into mine in response to my increased passion. As seconds turned to minutes, I realized all we’d accomplished was accelerating toward a heightened state of arousal in his world instead of sending me home to mine. I broke the kiss to catch my breath, staring at our entwined fingers atop the cool metal of a box that seemed to grow colder.
“It didn’t work,” I said after slowing my breathing for a full minute and a half—I’d counted.
“Sorry, lass. I dinna think it would.” Resignation flattened his tone.
“Why didn’t you think it would work?” My voice escalated in pitch.
“Weel, this box holds certain properties and is used by my clan for its singular purpose.” His voice softened as he gently rubbed his hands up and down my arms. I remained in his embrace, because the whole situation frightened me and comfort from him felt damn good.
I looked up into his reassuring eyes, even though the height difference caused my neck to ache in protest. When he didn’t offer further explanation, I prodded, “What purpose exactly?”
“Every laird in my clan, as far back as the first and the Picts before us, used it durin’ our ceremony when their chosen time came to take a mate.”
I got stuck on the historical references. Lairds going back in time until the generations reached the Picts? Logic flared anew, rejection of my situation having me cling to the notion that the mind held vast mysteries we had yet to unravel; mine had spun a masterful tale, giving a mystical explanation to the origins of my artifact. He’d said something about a mate.
“How does the box help them find a mate?” I felt ridiculous for a moment, as if the entire episode created of my imagination had me now talking to myself represented in the form of Iain.
“We doona know, lass. All we know is when the rulin’ laird lays his hand on the top durin’ our matin’ festival, the one meant for him is brought to him.”
“Brought to him,” I repeated, as if the echo would make it go down any easier. “One meant for him. Like a soul mate?”
“Aye. We’ve always been a strong and fearsome clan. Our strength comes from the bondin’ of the two in this world right for one another. The union makes an invincible pair to lead our people in times of both joy and hardship.”
The entire time he spoke, I analyzed his words and expressions. Everything he uttered he believed to be true. He waited for me to reply while I pondered my bizarre and rapidly disconcerting situation. Deeper meaning dawned on me slowly, breaking through the barrier of denial, reaching out with the clarity of the proper lens bringing a blurry world into crisp focus.
“I’m your soul mate?” The shouted realization scorched my ears.
Iain struggled to reply, his mouth slowly opening. He shook his head and shrugged his shoulders, but no words came out. He exhaled, dropping his shoulders, and the firm nod that followed told me he truly believed I’d been destined for him, regardless of his inability to soften the blow.
A claustrophobic noose tightened around my awareness. I pushed the hulking brute away from me, and he gave no resistance, stepping back. I paced the length of the small room, troubled by the possibilities, or rather, the impossibilities. If the power of my mind had created this entire larger-than-life charade, with every ounce of mental effort, I would banish the fantasy. My feet stopped, and I pushed all my focus inward, hoping my sheer will would make all this nonsense go away, but the ghastly smell from those tallow candles kept interfering with my concentration.
“Isa.” He breathed my name from behind my ear, tempting me like a lover’s caress, resting his warm hands on my shoulders. “Accept this. Nothin’ you do will change what’s meant to be for us.”
I whirled around in his loose hold. His eyes widened, probably due to the wild panic I’m sure came across on my face. “And if I don’t accept this . . . this crazy idea that I’ve been snatched out of my time to be in yours . . . to be with you . . . ?”
“Weel, the festival is in three days’ time. I’m not the only man takin’ a mate. Every available man wantin’ a woman will take the woman they claim—whether or not the woman agrees.”
My mouth dropped open. Although I’d read about it being true—their barbaric ways and the lack of say women had—it didn’t prepare me for the outrage I felt when I’d become one of the said women with no control. I shook my head.
“You either accept my claim and protection, or you will be forced to submit to another.”
I couldn’t breathe. The small space, the stench of burning animal fat, and his alarming words choked all of the air out of my lungs. I found myself gasping for the smallest amount of oxygen as I turned and fled the room, yanking the heavy door open with strength born from the adrenaline coursing through my veins.
Fresh air and warm sunshine invaded my senses. I stumbled out onto a feathery dusting of snow covering a patch of young grass breaking free from the ground. A single golden buttercup at my feet angled toward the sky. My vision followed the ground down to a field enclosed by a high stone wall. Soldiers dressed in kilts—and nothing else—sparred with swords, the clash of metal ringing through the courtyard. Women carried baskets between small thatched cottages on the periphery of the compound. In a field beyond, children ran back and forth, carrying sticks with colorful ribbons flying from the ends. I turned around and looked up the side of an enormous stone tower connected to the small room I’d emerged from only seconds ago.