Falling in Time

by Sue-Ellen Welfonder

  Whatever the reason, she kept her foot firmly on the gas pedal and knew she was still in the twenty-first century when she spotted a sign for Smoo Cave. The attraction’s tiny car park loomed quickly into view. And if she’d still had any doubts about reality, a small blue car, quite old and battered, was parked right in front of the little shop-cum-museum, claiming pride of place and letting her know she wasn’t the day’s only visitor.

  Torn between relief and annoyance, she sat for a moment to collect herself and then climbed out of the car. She had to lean into the wind as she crossed the car park to the well-marked entrance to the cliff path. Incredibly steep steps led down to the cave entrance far below and she surely wasn’t the first tourist to worry about the danger of being blown away at some point during the perilous descent.

  Och, even auld as I am, I could take thon steps in my sleep.

  You’ve no cause to fash yourself.

  The words – spoken in the soft Highland voice of Lindy’s earlier car passenger – came from right behind her.

  Whirling around, she saw the old woman standing there. She still sported her heavy waxed jacket and the small black boots with red plaid laces. Her wizened face wreathed in a smile when Lindy blinked, her jaw slipping.

  “Time’s a-wasting, lassie.” The crone tilted her head to the side, her blue eyes dancing. “‘Tis now or never, lest you wish to miss-”

  “I can’t believe this is the place you said we couldn’t miss!” A heavy-set woman, shaped roughly like a refrigerator and wearing a bright yellow oilskin, loomed into view, bearing down swiftly on the crone.

  Except – Mindy’s heart stopped – the crone was no longer there. In her place stood a thin, sparsely-haired man wearing a wrinkled gray suit made all the more incongruous by his tightly-knotted blue tie.

  The old woman, if she’d even been there, had vanished into thin air.

  But before Lindy could puzzle over what she’d just seen and heard, or hadn’t, the overbearing woman gripped the man’s elbow and marched him across the car park towards the battered blue car.

  “I told you we’d find only wind and rain up here with the heathen Scots!” she scolded, her English accent - one Lindy usually found almost as enchanting as Scottish – losing its charm as the woman ranted at her husband. “Those steps are murderous. Only a fool would risk their neck traipsing down them, rain-slick as they are.”

  She threw a glance over her shoulder at Lindy, shaking her head, before she gave her husband another glare. “Some anniversary trip you planned! We could be in Blackpool now, or Brighton. But no-o-o, you had to drag us up here to the wilds of-”

  The slamming of the car doors cut her off, but Lindy could see the woman’s jaw still working as she revved the engine. With a puff of smoke, the little blue car chugged away, disappearing down the road and leaving Lindy alone in the wilds of bonny Scotland.

  That was what the woman had been about to say, after all.

  Though Lindy was sure she’d have left out the bonny part.

  More fool she!

  Lindy was glad for the sudden peace that descended.

  Somewhere a dog barked in the distance. But otherwise, all was silent except for the rhythmic wash of the sea, the wind, and the cries of seabirds.

  Lindy’s heart swelled.

  This was her idea of heaven.

  She turned back to the entrance to the cliff path, thanking the weather gods for such a damp, blustery day. Had the sun been shining and the lovely, remote sea cave baking under a Highland heat wave, there’d surely be people crawling about everywhere, ruining the atmosphere.

  Spoiling the otherworldly ambiance she’d traveled so far to enjoy.

  Now….

  She couldn’t have wished for a more perfect day.

  Eager to plunge right into it, she rolled her shoulders and splayed, then wriggled her fingers, before starting down the narrow steps to the rocky little bay and the cave at the base of the cliff.

  Her descent raised the hair at the nape of her neck, made her breathing difficult. She’d only gone a short way when her scalp tingled, and in momentary flicker, her long flaxen braid swung round from behind her, bouncing against her hip, she stopped in her tracks, her blood freezing.

  She didn’t have long white-blond hair.

  And she hadn’t even worn braids as a child.

  Her hair was auburn and reached just past her shoulders. At the moment, it was caught back by a clip, because of the wind and how much it annoyed her to have the strands fly across her face, whipping into her eyes.

  She knuckled her eyes now.

  She couldn’t have mistaken her hair for a long blond braid. She’d surely just caught a reflection of the sun glancing off the water.

  It wasn’t a bright day, but there were moments when the cloud cover parted a bit.

  Even so….

  She shivered and rubbed her arms, glad when she again caught the sharp barking of a dog. She liked dogs. And this one’s barks lent an air of normalcy to a day that, for all her love of the woo, was beginning to turn just a tad too unusual for her liking.

  She saw the dog then. And when she did, she knew such a strong rush of relief that she almost laughed out loud at her nervousness.

  Huge, gray, and scruffy, the dog looked old. He wasn’t wearing a collar and a tag either. But he seemed to be enjoying himself as he trotted along the damp shingle, pausing now and then to sniff at tide pools near the dark-yawning entrance to the cave.

  Hoping to catch a good picture of him – after all, such a shot would look grand as an accompaniment for her Armchair Enthusiast chapter on Smoo Cave – she dug into her jacket pocket for her digital camera.

  Just as she pulled it free, something caught her eye and she glanced around, sure it’d been one of the seabirds she’d seen earlier.

  She didn’t see any birds, but she did note a heavy bank of thick, roiling mist far out at sea, its drifting, gray mass almost blotting the horizon.

  Lindy stared, shivering.

  The wind felt icier now. And – she was sure her imagination had kicked into overdrive – but she’d swear the air smelled different. It seemed tinged with a deeper, brittle kind of cold one might expect to find in Iceland.

  It was definitely a crisp, Nordic type of cold.

  Lindy frowned.

  She could almost taste the snow.

  She half expected to see little sparkly bits of frost clinging to her jacket sleeves when she looked down to examine them.

  But, of course, she saw no such thing.

  Yet she did see something extraordinary when she glanced up again.

  Three large open-hulled boats were pulled up at the water’s edge, their elaborately-carved prows and rowing oars proclaiming their identity. Not to mention their square sails, raised and ready, and the colorfully-painted shields hanging along the wooden sides.

  They were exquisite replicas of Viking longboats.

  Lindy stared, eyes rounding.

  They looked so real.

  The bulky fur-wrapped packages and wooden barrels and crates crammed into the narrow space between their rowing benches looked equally authentic. Clearly provisions, the supply goods indicated that the re-enactors were about to embark on a staged journey and not a warring raid.

  Only….

  Lindy gulped.

  The little group of men who came into view just then, striding down the opposite cliff path, didn’t look like modern day men dressed up as Viking re-enactors.

  They looked like the real thing.

  Worst of all, one of the men near the front, leading the others down the steep cliffside, was him. The man she often dreamed of and who she’d named Lore in her romance novel, but now knew to be Rogan MacGraith.

  Except – Lindy’s heart tripped – when a tall blond-braided woman in a flowing red cape appeared at the top of the bluff, her hair and her cloak whipped by the wind, Lindy knew that the man she was staring at was named Ragnar.

  In that instant, she also knew
that she’d once been the woman.

  She’d fallen in time, and was reliving a fateful day that had changed her life ever after.

  Tears streamed down the woman’s face and, even from here, across the cove, Lindy could see how the woman’s anguished gaze stayed pinned on the man as he strode purposely down the path, making for the longships.

  He was heading to his death, Lindy knew.

  She could feel the woman’s pain clawing at her heart, ripping her soul.

  “No-o-o!” Lindy wasn’t sure if she’d yelled, or the red-cloaked woman on the other cliff-top, but the cry echoed in the cove, causing the men to pause and swing round to stare up at the woman.

  Lindy watched her, too, looking on as the woman pressed a fist against her mouth and shook her blond head as Rogan – no, Ragnar – called something up to her. But whatever it was, the wind took his words and Lindy couldn’t hear what he’d said.

  Then he turned away again and, for an instant, his gaze caught hers. He froze, shock and recognition flashing across his face before he whipped back around to stare up at the woman on the cliff.

  Only she was gone.

  And before Lindy could see his reaction, he disappeared, too. His little party of men and the three beached longboats vanished as well, the entire scene erased from view as if none of it had ever been.

  Yet Lindy knew it had.

  She’d just glimpsed her own past.

  “Oh, God!” She started to tremble. The camera slid from her hands, bounced twice, and began clattering away. “Damn!” She grabbed at it, but her foot slipped and she plunged forward, tumbling down the remaining steps.

  Blessedly, they weren’t that many, but she slammed painfully onto her knees all the same, flinging out her arms to break a worse fall. Even so, she feared the hard shingle might have cracked her kneecaps. And her hands were definitely bleeding. They hurt badly, burning like fire.

  “Oh, God….” Shaken, she slumped against a rock just as the dog she’d seen earlier came bounding up to her, barking excitedly and wagging his tail as he scampered close to sniff at her scraped and bloodied knees.

  “Snorri!” A man’s deep voice called him away. “Leave the lass be.”

  “Oh, God,” Lindy gasped again, recognizing the rich burr. “It’s you! Lore- … Rogan!”

  And then, just as she glanced up, seeing indeed that it was him, a sea of stars flittered across her vision and the world went black.

  But not before she felt strong manly arms slide protectively around her. They were familiar arms and so dear, nothing else mattered but knowing that Rogan MacGraith was lifting her, holding her safe.

  She’d come home at last.

  Wherever – and whenever – that might be.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Her hands were bandaged.

  And – this is what really woke Lindy – someone was kissing her fingertips.

  That same someone was also murmuring Gaelic love words, his breath soft and warm against her skin. Lindy’s heart skittered and she opened her eyes, looking into the face she’d loved forever. She knew that now, the surety of it filling her with a completeness – a sense of rightness and contentment - such as she’d never known.

  At least not in the twenty-first century life she’d left behind.

  That she was now somewhere else, was clear.

  The evidence was all around her. But most of all, she felt it inside her. She’d been returned to a place and time she belonged, it was like nowhere else. If she had any doubt – which she didn’t - the love shining in Rogan MacGraith’s eyes as he sat beside her on the huge medieval four-poster bed, told her everything she needed to know.

  The important things, anyway.

  Such as how much she meant to him and how glad he was to see her.

  That his dog – the one she’d seen below the cliffs, when she’d fell – stood beside the bed wagging his tail and looking at her with adoration was another boon.

  She was definitely welcome here.

  The dog edged forward to nudge her with his nose, proving it.

  His master grinned, the sight warming her to her toes.

  “Precious lass.” Rogan’s voice, so deep and deliciously burred, was even more seductive than in her dreams. “I would spare you every hurt, but if you had to fall down the cliff to come to me, then” - he kissed her hands again – “I thank the gods for the misstep that brought you into my arms.

  “And now that I have you” – he reached to smooth the hair back from her face – “I would know your name at last.”

  “Lindy.” She didn’t want to speak. It was bliss just to listen to his beautiful voice. “My name is Lindy. Lindy Lovejoy.”

  “Lindy.” He made her name sound like a song. “‘Tis a fitting name for one who fills my heart with such gladness. Sakes, lass” – he took her face between his hands, kissing her soundly – “when I saw you fall, I thought I’d lost you. To have you so close, within touching distance and then….”

  Rather than finish, he pulled her hard against him, almost crushing her in his arms. “You are mine, Lindy. Now that you’re here, I will never let you go.”

  Lindy almost swooned. “You won’t have to. I’m here now and I’m not going anywhere.”

  She hoped that was true.

  It was so hard to believe he really was holding her. Running his hands through her hair, touching her face, and – oh, joy! – kissing her.

  She wasn’t dreaming.

  This was real.

  And - she suddenly realized - with the exception of the linen bandaging wrapped around her hands, she wasn’t wearing anything.

  She was naked.

  Though, proving medieval gallantry, someone had taken care to cover her with a soft furred throw and a lustrous welter of silken, richly-embroidered sheets. She was also leaning back against a sea of plumped pillows.

  Her comfort clearly mattered.

  But her clothes….

  They were definitely gone.

  As if he’d read her thoughts, a slow, dangerously sexy smile curved Rogan’s mouth. “You couldn’t stay garbed as you were. I had to-”

  “You undressed me?” She blinked. The notion both excited and embarrassed her.

  “You’ll no’ deny I’ve done so before?” His smile reached his eyes, the effect positively wicked. “Many times, it’s been, aye, if I were to count.”

  “I know that.” She spoke the truth. He’d undressed her a thousand times, in her dreams and fantasies. In the pages of her umpteen times rejected romance novel. And, she now suspected, he’d also done so in other lifetimes such as the Viking one she’d glimpsed so briefly.

  She tightened her arms around his neck, half afraid he’d disappear. “What I don’t understand is how I came to be here. How did you find me?”

  He glanced at his dog. “Truth to tell, it was Snorri. He’d gone missing and when I went searching for him, I heard his barks and followed, knowing he’d be at the cave. I reached the strand just in time to see you falling.”

  “You didn’t see me before?”

  “Oh, aye.” He grinned. “In my dreams, nigh every night, if you’d hear how it was.”

  He patted his dog’s head, scratching the beast’s ears. “You can ask Snorri. We keep no secrets from each other. He knows how I’ve pined for you.”

  “That’s not what I meant.” Lindy hesitated, aware of the heat staining her cheeks. “I know we’ve shared dreams. But there’s more. I’m certain” – this was so hard to say – “we’ve shared past lives. That we’ve always been together, but this time something went wrong. I was born in the wrong place. Somewhere distant and far from here and impossible to reach you, until-”

  “The cave brought you back to me.” He made it sound so easy.

  So plausible.

  Mindy frowned. “Smoo Cave? So it really is a kind of time portal? An entrance to other realms as all the lore and legend claims?”

  She so wanted to believe.

  Rogan was nodding as if
he did. “I canna say if the cave is a time portal. Though, after seeing your clothes, I’ll own they did no’ come from any world that I know.” He stood and started pacing. “That’s why I left them in the cave. There are cracks and crevices so deep that no man can retrieve anything that is thrown into them. And” – he came back to the bed, once more sitting on its edge – “strange as Smoo is known to be, I couldn’t allow my kinsmen to see such raiments. Your shoes alone would have caused too many questions.

  “That is why I stripped you.” His gaze flashed the length of her, the look in his eyes burning her as if he could see her nakedness right through the thickness of the furred covering and bed sheets.

  “And you’re not curious yourself?” Lindy had to ask.

  His gaze turned even hotter. “All I care about, sweet, is having you with me.”

  Taking her in his arms again, he kissed her thoroughly, leaving her breathless when he pulled away. “You could have come to me draped in seaweed or glittering from head to toe in twinkly starlight and it wouldn’t have made a difference. I only want you.”

  “But-”

  He pressed a finger to her lips. “There are no buts in my world, Lindy-lass. Though I will tell you that, as a MacGraith, I slipped into this life knowing that there are things we canna ever hope to explain.

  “MacGraiths are the hereditary guardians of Smoo Cave. Since time was, we have been here at Castle Daunt, watching always to ensure that nothing passes in or out of the cave without our knowledge.”

  Lindy stared at him. “So you’re fairies?” The plots of countless paranormal romance novels came to mind. “Immortals guarding the entrance to-”

  “Guarding, aye, but we’re no’ immortal.” He laughed, grinning again. “We’re flesh-and-blood men, as rock solid as any other man.” His smile turned wicked again and he pulled her back into his arms, holding her close. “You should know how solid I am, Lindy-sweet.”

  She flushed, knowing indeed.

  His solidness was very apparent, though neither one of them had yet acknowledged the obvious.

  It was one thing to be naked together and burn up the sheets in a dream.