Draycott Eternal: What Dreams May ComeSeason of Wishes

by Christina Skye

  “I only wish there had been more time,” Jamee whispered, brushing tears from her cheek. Suddenly, she was aware of the silence that seemed to follow the mist. The little hairs lifted along her neck and she had the sharp feeling she was no longer alone.

  She looked around.

  The heather shivered between the gray boulders.

  “Is…someone there?”

  Only a bird soared high above, breaking the chill silence. Jamee turned away from the sea, where the last red bloom had slid from sight. The wind tore at her cheeks, as if to scrub away the tears her parents would neither want, nor expect. They would want her to be happy.

  If only she could discover how.

  Sighing, Jamee turned back toward the road, then abruptly froze.

  A man stood on the cliff, his black hair ruffled by the breeze. He looked out of place with his polished leather satchel and well-cut Harris tweeds among the silence and the empty rocks. Sensing that he did not wish to be disturbed, Jamee moved back behind a lichen-covered boulder, then started up the slope to her car, respecting his privacy. But something made her stop.

  What was he doing out here?

  He moved to the rim of the cliff and studied the water shimmering far below, then dropped his bag. His gaze stayed locked on the sea.

  Jamee told herself it was none of her business. She should leave him alone to savor his thoughts, which were clearly as dark as her own.

  But she couldn’t turn away, held by the sadness in his face. Or maybe it was the way he stared far to the west, ignoring the jagged cliff edge so near his feet.

  His face was hard. The wind tore at his hair as he moved closer to the deadly emptiness. He frowned, studying the rough line of the coast.

  One step. Two. He bent to one knee.

  Jamee stiffened in a sudden jolt of realization.

  He was going to jump.

  CHAPTER THREE

  JAMEE LUNGED FORWARD against his chest. “You can’t,” she cried. Pain jolted through her ankle as she collided with a boulder and toppled them both onto the damp moss. “Doing this won’t solve anything.”

  A dark strand of hair fell over his brow as he tried to raise his head. “Doing what?”

  Jamee caught his arms and held him to the ground, ignoring the pain at her ankle. “Jumping.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “I beg your pardon.”

  “I know you were going to jump. Suicide is no answer, believe me.” When he tried to move, she pressed her body down against him. “Stop fighting me.”

  “Fighting?”

  “It won’t work. I won’t let you jump.”

  He stared at her as if she were mad. “I assure you, I was not—”

  “It’s no good,” Jamee rushed on breathlessly. “You’d only hurt the people who love you. Besides, it’s cowardly.” Her lips pursed. “Somehow you don’t strike me as a coward.”

  Something flickered in his eyes, sharp eyes that held shadows of an old pain. His face was deeply lined below a broad brow, more tanned than she had expected. As she stared down, Jamee felt drawn into his face, mesmerized by the play of emotions he fought to keep hidden. He was a man who kept secrets well, she thought.

  She blinked and shook her head. “Promise you’ll give it up.”

  He dislodged her arm and pushed onto one elbow in one smooth motion. “And you think you can stop me?” His voice held the soft, rolling cadences of the native Highlander.

  He was stronger than she’d thought, Jamee realized. She pressed down harder, all too aware that her strength would never match his. “I just did.”

  “Sweet God above.”

  “You obviously didn’t expect anyone to see you out here, but I’m not about to let you end your life like this.”

  “Why not?” he growled. “You don’t know anything about me.”

  “What does that matter?” Jamee tried to gauge his next move. The man was far too controlled, far too good at hiding his feelings.

  Jamee had never been very good at either.

  She dug her feet into the fine dirt, tightening her hold on his arm. “It’s never that bad,” she said gravely. “You think it is. You feel there’s no way you can go on another second. But somehow you do, and then the pain begins to fade. One day you find yourself smiling at something small and stupid, and you know it’s going to be okay. And it will,” she insisted. “You’ve got to believe me.”

  He eased her leg to one side, scowling. “That sounds like firsthand experience.”

  Jamee liked the Gaelic in his voice. “It is.”

  His smile was slightly cynical. “You’re very obliging, considering I’m a complete stranger.”

  “I don’t walk away from problems, if that’s what you mean.”

  He moved restlessly beneath her. “I’m afraid you’ve got this all wrong.”

  “No, you’ve got it wrong,” Jamee said flatly, trying to hold him still. “If it’s some kind of sickness, there’s bound to be hope. All sorts of medicines are discovered every day. Doctors can work miracles now.”

  His jaw hardened. “It’s not a question of sickness or of miracles.”

  She didn’t move. She wasn’t about to let him rush her and push free now. The cliff was far too close. “If it’s money…”

  “Not money, either.”

  “No?” She gnawed at her lip, then gave him a slow, knowing nod. “Woman trouble. Did she dump you for someone younger? That happened to me once. Rotten feeling, isn’t it?”

  There seemed to be something wrong with his jaw. It just kept quivering. “Wrong again.”

  “Yeah, that only happens to the woman.” Jamee shoved his arm back to the ground, frowning. “So what was it, incompatibility? Some sort of sexual problem?”

  “If you’ll move your thigh off my hip,” the Scotsman said dryly, “I’ll tell you.”

  Jamee didn’t budge. “What’s your name?”

  His deep-green eyes flickered, the color of summer moss. “Ian.”

  “Promise you won’t try anything, Ian? Nothing desperate, I mean.”

  “I swear.”

  Jamee eased away, but kept one hand on his arm. She knew that depressed people could behave unpredictably. “Things can look very bad,” she said gravely. “But there are always options, always opportunities. You’ll find another woman.” Jamee studied him seriously, then nodded. “You’re very attractive. Good bone structure. In spite of that sexual problem you mentioned…”

  His brow rose sharply. “My dear woman—you are American, I believe.”

  “Yes.”

  “I am sorry to disappoint you, but I do not have any sexual problems. A fair number of women will vouch for that fact. Nor was I about to jump off that cliff when you tackled me like a demented linebacker.”

  Jamee blinked. “You weren’t?”

  He glanced down at her fingers wrapped around his arm and her thigh straddling his hip. “No. And unless you move, you’re going to have very explicit evidence of my lack of sexual problems.”

  Jamee felt her face flame. “You mean—” She struggled bacward and slid to one knee. “So that was all an act? Of all the treacherous, unspeakably despicable—” Furious, she scrambled to her feet. “Just what kind of creep are you?”

  Ian muttered a curse. “Stop.”

  “Stop?” she repeated raggedly, stumbling on a loose bit of granite. “So you can laugh at the poor, dumb American who thought she was helping someone in distress?”

  “Stop now.” He scowled at her as he pushed to his feet.

  Jamee paid no attention, furious at herself, furious at the impulsive nature she could never quite control. What had made her think she was a Good Samaritan?

  He lunged with sudden grace, clutching her waist, and Jamee struggled wildly, desperate to escape his keen, knowing eyes.

  He drove her to her knees, palms to the ground. His arms locked around her chest. “Stop fighting, dammit. Otherwise, we’ll both go plunging over those rocks.”

  She twisted sideway
s and aimed a perfect right hook at his chest. “Fool me once, buster.”

  Cursing, he worked one leg between hers and shoved her to the ground. “Listen to me, dammit.”

  The tweed of the man’s jacket made Jamee’s nose itch. She sneezed. “Why should I?”

  “That’s why.” He stretched out his hand and Jamee blinked. The ragged cliff edge yawned only inches away. One more step and they both would have fallen onto the rocks.

  Jamee swallowed, staring at the deadly emptiness.

  “Now do you understand?”

  She nodded jerkily.

  “You won’t move, will you? We’re still too close. The edge could give way any second.”

  She nodded again, shuddering this time.

  “Good. Move along with me. We’re getting to our feet now. While we do, you can tell me your name.”

  She pushed upright slowly, barely aware of his hand at her waist. “J-Jamee.”

  “Very good. Now, listen to me, Jamee. The fog is closing in again. Stay right beside me, understand?”

  His lips were very close to her ear, but Jamee barely heard him as she stared at the foam slamming against the dark rocks far below. The sea seemed to call to her, restless and urgent, pulling her forward in some elemental way.

  Suddenly her chest ached and she couldn’t breathe. She felt herself swaying forward, out toward nothingness—and the deadly rocks.

  “Don’t look down.” His fingers dug into her waist. “Do you hear me, Jamee?”

  Her legs began to shake. She managed a nod.

  “Jamee what?” he asked tightly.

  “N-Night.”

  He caught her forearm. “Listen to me, Jamee Night. We’re going back in now, one step at a time.”

  A distant flash of movement drew her gaze to the horizon.

  “No, don’t look down. Look at me. Listen to my voice. Forget everything else.”

  As the mist closed in, Jamee grew disoriented. “I—I can’t see.”

  “Just listen. You’ll hear the wind in a moment, then the birds. Now, stay with me, because we’re heading in now.”

  The cloud wall stretched without end, cutting off all color, dampening every sound. Unconsciously, Jamee pressed closer to the stranger’s chest as he took a first, slow step. “Are you sure we’re going the right way?”

  “Absolutely.” His hand cupped her back. “Now we’re going to take five steps to my left. Stay with me.”

  “Like lint. You couldn’t scrape me off,” she rasped. “H-how much farther is it?”

  “Almost there. Just keep moving.”

  She took a ragged breath and tried to relax. “You’re Scottish?”

  “I was born to the north.”

  Jamee forced her whole being to focus on the slow cadence of his voice, low and smooth at her ear. Anything but the emptiness that yawned somewhere to the left, hidden by deadly fog. She had just begun to relax when her heel caught. As she lurched forward, hard hands reached out to catch her.

  “Careful.”

  “Who said Scotland was a place for peace and quiet?”

  “Oh, the Highlands can be quiet, all right.” He inched backward, his hands holding her waist tightly. “But only when they’re not being wild and treacherous.” A quick step, then another. Mist swirled past in shapeless streams. “But you’ve got to take the land as you find it, for it holds its own surprises.”

  “I think I’ve had enough surprises for one day,” she muttered.

  “Almost there. That boulder you just tripped over was at the edge of the cliff.” His hand slid into the small of her back, guiding her to safety.

  Jamee felt her shoulder brush the solid line of a granite overhang. She reached out dizzily, her chin jammed against his neck. “Are we safe yet?”

  “We’re safe. How are you doing, Jamee Night?”

  She realized she was shivering. She laughed wildly as she clutched the soft wool lapels of his jacket. “Good. So good I think I might be sick any second.” She held on tight, savoring his warmth and the scratch of the weathered tweed.

  Something touched her hair. “Better?”

  “I might actually be able to breathe again.” Her head tilted back. “You never told me your whole name.”

  “Ian McCall.’

  Jamee smiled crookedly. “Hello, Ian McCall,” she whispered.

  “Hello, to you, Jamee Night.”

  She wondered why being wrapped in his arms felt so comfortable.

  Jamee felt an odd lurch in her chest. There was only the heat and weight of their bodies, the scrape of his tweed at her cool cheek.

  “You’re crying,” he said gruffly, his palm covering her cheek.

  “I am not.”

  His hand opened, finding dampness. “Then what’s this?”

  “Mist.”

  “Mist, is it?” Ian asked gravely. His fingers slid down her braid, knot by heavy knot. “You’ve got wonderful hair, Jamee Night.”

  “You can’t see it in this fog.”

  “But I can feel it,” he whispered as his hands caught the weight of her hair.

  Jamee tensed, expecting to panic at the caress. How long had it been since a man had touched her like this? Six months? A year?

  Abruptly, his hands slid away. He muttered a phrase she didn’t understand. “That was damn stupid of you. You could have been killed diving at me that way.”

  “It seemed the thing to do at the time. I couldn’t walk away when you were in danger.”

  “You’re brave. Maybe too brave.”

  “Tell that to my knocking knees,” Jamee said weakly. “You really weren’t going to jump?”

  “No, I was not.”

  She frowned. “Then what were you doing out there on the cliff edge?”

  He made an irritated sound. “I was looking for something.”

  “And did you find it?”

  He eased back against a granite boulder, taking her with him, curled against his chest. “You ask too many questions.”

  “That’s not an answer.” Jamee made out his smile, slow and grave. She realized it was heartbreakingly beautiful as it lit every corner of his face.

  “I don’t believe I did. But I think maybe I found something else.”

  His lips brushed her nose, then swept over her open mouth. She forgot everything but the weight of his hands at her back and the warm touch of his mouth as something stirred inside her.

  The ache grew into a feeling Jamee hadn’t known for months.

  Desire, slow and sweet.

  The shock of it made her hand tremble at his neck. “I don’t think this is such a good idea.”

  “You’re right, it isn’t,” he said, frowning.

  Jamee closed her eyes and shivered.

  “Jamee?”

  She swallowed, unable to speak. The cold fear returned, overwhelming her with harsh memories. After all these years, she still tasted the terror of being betrayed and held against her will.

  “Jamee, we’re safe.”

  She shook her head blindly. Why did the panic always sweep up out of her memory? Why couldn’t the past stay finished and forgotten?

  She pushed away from him. “I’d better go. My car is over there by the road.” She turned, frowning at the blank wall of clouds. Her car was totally hidden now.

  A black shape shot past her head. “What was that?”

  “A seagull. The fog’s getting worse.”

  “I’ve got to get away. Out of here. N-now.” She fought to keep the anxiety from her voice.

  “You’re not going anywhere near the road. This fog could last for hours—or even days. We’ve got to get to shelter while we can still see.”

  “No. I’m heading to my car and then I’m driving back to the village of Dunraven. I have business there,” she said desperately.

  Ian cupped her shoulder. “Look around you, Jamee. You can’t possibly drive in this.”

  “I can’t stay,” she said raggedly, trying to pull free of his grip.

  “Dam
mit, will you stop and listen? Keep going that way and you’ll walk right off the cliff.”

  “You’re wrong.” Her voice faltered. “Aren’t you?”

  “Go ahead and find out. Just don’t expect me to follow you this time.”

  She stood uncertainly, shifting from foot to foot while the fog pushed past in wet streaks. He was right, she couldn’t see even a foot away. Her hands clenched. “Where would we go?”

  “There’s an old crofter’s cottage about a quarter of a mile up the hill. With luck, I should be able to guide us there, but not if we stand here talking. It will be dark in a few minutes.”

  “But it’s barely two!”

  Ian shrugged. “Welcome to the Highlands, Ms. Night.”

  “Why can’t we go to Dunraven Castle? I’m expected later today with a set of textiles for the laird and his wife. Everything was planned.”

  “Dunraven Castle is at least ten kilometers from here,” Ian said impatiently. “I have no intention of trying to drive there or anywhere else in this fog. One miscalculation and we’d be flotsam on the beach.”

  Jamee made a low, angry sound. “All right,” she said warily. “But first I need to call Dunraven Castle and tell them what’s happened.”

  “There’s a telephone in my car.” Sighing, Ian gripped her hand and tugged her across the gravel toward a battered Jeep. Without a word he pushed her into the passenger seat, then leaned down to pull a mobile phone from the floor. “Make your call, then let’s go.”

  “Thank you,” Jamee said tightly.

  Ian strode toward the front of the car, scowling. He had been following her since dawn, careful to stay well out of sight. The deception irritated him. Keeping a distance generally misfired, just as it had this morning when Jamee had turned off the cliff road several kilometers back. He had missed her turn and had had to double back until he’d caught sight of her parked car. He had been looking for her when he’d been caught off guard and knocked squarely to the ground by the very person he was supposed to protect.

  Adam Night was wrong, Ian thought grimly. This was not going to work. But before he could find a replacement, he’d have to get Jamee to safety, out of this fog and off these bloody cliffs.

  “Kara?” Ian heard Jamee’s breathless voice behind him. “Is this Dunraven Castle? What—Hello? Hello?”