Through the Veil

by Kyra Whitton

  “I would say…” she paused. “Tell me more over dinner.”

  He grinned and she slid her arm into his, allowing him to lead her back into the cottage, the sounds of the night playing a symphony around them.

  Inside, she slid into a chair, rested her elbows on the table, and cradled her cheeks in her hands as she watched Alec work. He quartered a few potatoes, dumped them into a small cauldron, and placed the black pot on the small fire he must have built before coming outside after her. Liberally, he salted and peppered the fish before sprinkling sprigs of a bright green herb over the white flesh.

  As the potatoes began to boil, he sliced a small white onion and broke it into rings. They were arranged along the bottom of an iron skillet and the filets were placed on top. He then poured milk over the whole lot of it.

  “Where did you get the milk?”

  “From a cow.”

  “It was just wandering around the forest?”

  “We’re situated not far from the shores of the loch. There is a farmer there with a small herd of cattle. He allows me milk when I need it.”

  “How generous of him.”

  Alec ignored her jab and put the pan on a grate over the fire, just to the right of the pot of boiling potatoes.

  A strange sense of déjà-vu settled over her as the lick of fire caught her attention. The orange flames danced wildly in the wide hearth. She’d never been here before, of that she was certain. But could it be the millions of flames bouncing sinisterly against soot-covered stone? Or the billions of stars above the landscape? The scent of the simmering fish? The hair on the back of her neck rose and her arms prickled into goose bumps.

  Alec slid something toward her on the table and the feeling was gone. She looked down at the stone cup before her.

  “Whisky.” He held a similar cup in one hand and poured the contents over the fish.

  She briefly considered accusing him of trying to get her liquored up, but instead sipped at the amber liquid. It was smooth. Silky. She sipped on it until a full plate was placed before her.

  The food was amazing, if simple, reminding her of the traditional Scottish meals that Mrs. Baird fed Calum and her those few Sunday evenings. She couldn’t shovel the fish into her face fast enough and was disappointed when there was none left. Between bites of potato, she sipped at the whisky, not complaining when Alec refilled the stone cup again, and then once more. When she could eat no more, she pushed the plate away and threw back the rest of the alcohol.

  The whisky warmed her all the way down to her core, every cell in her body vibrating with warmth.

  “Why do you like me?” she blurted, the words a surprise even to herself.

  “What kind of question is that?”

  “Why are you helping me, then?”

  “Perhaps because I like you?”

  She pushed away from the table. The legs of her chair scraped against the scarred floor and Alec watched her with curiosity as she rounded the table. She straddled his lap and stole his mouth with hers. His hands landed on her waist as his lips opened for her, the scratch of his stubble around her cheeks igniting a fire within her. His hands adjusted her hips, moving her a scant few centimeters until she was situated over his growing erection. She rocked forward, and then again, and again, the pressure and friction eliciting moans from them both.

  “If you knew me better, you wouldn’t like me at all,” she murmured, her breath heavy with whisky.

  His fingers tightened. “You can’t talk me out of you, Evie.” He nipped at her ear lobe.

  She shuddered, the shiver running down her spine. She rocked into him, her breasts pressed against the hard planes of his chest. She wanted his hands on them, again.

  “At least let me try,” she insisted breathlessly.

  His rumble of laughter had her gasping around her grin.

  “You’re the best of all of us.” He claimed her mouth with his and her thoughts along with it. “You just need to believe it, yourself.” His hands traveled up her hips to the warm skin beneath her shirt, and his thumbs hooked into the bottom of her bra.

  Who else could he mean?

  He pulled the cups over the swell of her breasts, and cupped them, filling his palms. His lips trailed along her jaw to her ear.

  It didn’t matter anymore.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Do we have to go?” Evie pouted as she regarded the outside of the little cottage wistfully.

  Behind her, Alec sniffed in amusement. “No.”

  She whirled around to meet his gaze. “Really?”

  He shrugged. “Sure. If that’s what you want. We can hide out here forever for all I care.”

  She twisted her mouth to one side and narrowed her eyes. “I feel a ‘but’ coming on.”

  He shoved his hands in the front pockets of his jeans and rocked back on his heels. “But I thought you wanted some answers.”

  She groaned. He was right, damn him. She wasn’t going to learn anything about the strange woman from the forest, why she wanted Evie, or how Iain worked into the equation if she stayed there with Alec, no matter how tempting the idea was. She shot one final, hungry look at the cottage, the memories of her time there like warm honey pooling around her heart. “All right. Fine. Let’s go then,” she grumbled.

  Alec held out his hand, and she slipped her palm against his, allowing him to lead her down the narrow, dirt path.

  The morning air was crisp and damp. She shivered and hugged his arm to her, cradling it to her chest. Her breath puffed out in front of her and her nose burned from the cold.

  The weather there made even less sense than the sun cycles. Summer had been ripe and heavy in Kansas, the temperatures similar when she awoke on the shore of a loch. But no matter how hard she tried to determine the passage of time, the arc of the sun, or when the moon might appear, everything just became muddled and her confusion multiplied exponentially. At times she was certain they had been in that cabin for only a matter of hours, but others she was sure they had savored each other for weeks. She recalled the ways they explored one another, how well he knew her body. Hell, how well she knew his. Could it have been a month? No, none of it made any sense.

  Alec tugged on her hand. “We’re almost there.”

  “There.” She didn’t say it as a question.

  He’d rattled on about leaving since they woke up, but little of what he said truly sank in.

  “Down there.” He pointed through the trees, down the slope of the gentle swell of mountain where the shimmering gray water of the loch lapped a rocky shore. In the center of the inlet, a small island rested, large standing stones set in a circle around it. “The gateway that will take us back.”

  “Doesn’t going home kind of defeat the point? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed the interlude, but how does going back accomplish anything? Won’t they still be there?”

  “Probably.”

  “So….?” She released his arm as they began the descent down the slope, but he caught her hand in his.

  “We aren’t going to the same time.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, we’re going to backtrack.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t think I am ever going to understand any of this. I will just follow you, oh fearless leader.”

  Alec snorted and led her around a large tree root. As they approached the island, Alec walked right into the water, tugging her along after him. The lapped at her ankles, cold, but not as frigid as she expected. It was far clearer than it had appeared from above, and small fish skittered between smooth, round pebbles.

  They waded across the shallows to the island’s ruffling green grasses, the ring of large rocks circling its center. The stones lay on their sides, long, smooth rectangles with barely a foot between them and too high for her to step over.

  Just outside the ring, Alec dropped his bag onto the grass. He knelt next to it and flipped the flap open to rummage through it. When he stood back up, he held a Christmas ornament
, a bright red globe with the previous year plastered across it in bold, block script.

  Evie quirked an eyebrow as he stood and slung the pack back over his shoulder in one movement. “What, no silver apples?”

  He sniffed and held his hand out.

  She eyed it and twisted her mouth around to the side. She kept her arms firmly folded against her chest. “Will this be the same as last time?”

  “Essentially.”

  “Will I… do you always black out?”

  He ran his fingers lightly down her cheek before caressing her chin. He trailed them down the line of her scar, a slender white line barely visible after months of healing. She was acutely aware of it. A reminder of how her appearance was forever changed. And her coming out of the blackness only to find her entire world destroyed.

  “The first few times, yes,” he told her gently. “But I learned to overcome it. Crossing the veil is a lot for the body—and the mind—to handle, I think. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” He dropped his hand from the caress.

  “How-how do you stay conscious through it?”

  “Truthfully?”

  “No, I want you to lie to me.” She rolled her eyes.

  “I hold my breath and focus on something else.”

  “Like what?”

  “Well, this time it will be your breasts, but really anything with do,” he said with a sly grin and a knowingly twinkle.

  She dropped her head back and made a sound of disgust in the back of her throat. “Yeah, okay,” she muttered. “Let’s just get this over with.”

  Alec stepped into the circle and she followed close on his heels. Once at its center, he turned to her and reached for her hand. He pressed her palm over the ornament until it was sandwiched between their palms. Around them, the world dipped and swayed, spun and turned.

  Evie caught her breath and held it as her stomach rolled. What could she focus on? She frantically racked her memories, but all she could conjure up was her own breasts. Heat flooded her cheeks. He had done some marvelous things to them…

  Her stomach pitched. What little food she ate before they left threatened to evacuate, but then the spinning stopped, leaving her with only a dull headache. Still unsteady, she glanced around to find herself back in Alec’s little Queen Anne, the hardwood floors dull and in need of refinishing, the wainscoting thick with many layers of paint.

  The electric sconces remained off, but the room was warmly lit by the colored lights shining in through the antique glass of the windows and draped along the plastic boughs of an artificial Christmas tree.

  Evie turned to her companion, the question about the tree on the tip of her tongue when the whole room tilted and her stomach clenched right along with it. Lightheadedness slammed into her, and with two stumbling steps, she reached the umbrella stand next to the door. Grasping the edges, she violently lost her meager breakfast.

  As her body shuddered, Alec’s hand grasped her shoulder. His thumb caressed the back of her neck as she breathed heavily, willing her body to calm. When she was sure the retching had subsided, she fell to her knees and then sat heavily on the floor with her legs curled in front of her.

  Alec still sat on his haunches, his elbows resting on his knees, looking down at her with sympathy. “Water?” he murmured as if knowing her skull was hell bent on crushing her brain.

  Just the thought of anything passing between her lips had her stomach seizing up once more. She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth to suppress the unladylike belch threatening to erupt and shook her head.

  He took her free hand in his and rubbed his thumb across her knuckles. “It’ll pass in a few minutes.”

  “You mean you knew this would happen?”

  “You get used to it, figure out how to get past it.”

  She frowned. “I think this was a one-time deal, thank you very much.”

  The look he gave her said he didn’t think that would be the case. “Let’s get you off the floor.” He slid his hands under her arms and hauled her to her feet.

  “Do… do you think you could take me home?” Her voice rang small and wobbly even to her own ears.

  “No.”

  “No? What do you mean ‘No?’” She whirled to face him.

  “I can’t take you there because you’re already there.”

  “What do you mean I’m already there?” she demanded.

  “Where were you last December—this December?” he amended.

  She screwed up her face. “At my parents’ house. But why does that matter? I’m here, and—”

  “Yes, you’re here. But you’re also there.” He held out his hands, moving them in front of him for emphasis. “If you were to walk into their house right now, there would be two of you, and…” he trailed off, huffing out an exasperated breath. “And I have no idea what would happen, but none of the options are great.”

  She pursed her lips and refused to meet his gaze. “Then what the hell am I supposed to do?”

  “Avoid yourself and anyone who knows you from that time. Otherwise, you’re good.”

  “Really? Really?” The good thing about the anger was that it made her forget how much her head hurt and her mouth tasted like the inside of a dumpster. “What the hell am I supposed to do, then? Just hang out in your front room for the next eight months?”

  “Look, searching for you right now would be like searching for a needle in a haystack. It’s going to take them awhile to find you, and if you play the game right, you might be able to get out of their reach forever. Use it. Find out what you need to know. Make the best of it.”

  Use it. Use it. How did she use it? She groaned, dropped her head into her hands, and screamed into her clammy palms. “Why is this happening to me?”

  “Evie, I—”

  “Just leave me alone, Alec,” she grumbled and bent at the waist to lean into her knees. Darkness closed around her, the lights finally dimming from the backs of her eyelids.

  He didn’t move for the longest moment. When he did and his steps echoed down the hall, her shoulders sagged in defeat.

  Everything was spinning out of control. From the moment she first saw him standing on her parents’ back porch with the neighbor’s dog, it just spiraled faster and faster, each moment taking her further from feeling steady.

  Her fingertips slid away from her eyes and pressed into her temples. She massaged the sick feeling away until her heart stopped racing and the cramps in the pit of her stomach dissipated.

  Once she was sure she wouldn’t be sick, again, Evie braced herself against the wall and straightened. The floorboards creaked as she entered the small white kitchen. He waited for her, his gazed fixed on the doorway, his hips resting against the edge of the counter, feet out before him, arms crossed over his chest. On the stop top, a pair of pans popped and sizzled.

  She stopped and hung her head, glancing up through her lashes. “I, um…”

  “Hungry?”

  She nodded, thankful he interrupted her weak apology.

  He withdrew a pair of plain white plates and set them down on the counter. As she passed her weight from one leg to the other, he spooned eggs, bacon, and spiced potatoes onto each dish. Without a word, he slid both plates onto a small drop-leaf table. He strode back across the kitchen to withdraw forks from a shallow drawer and paper napkins from a cabinet over the stove. He laid out both next to the plates and held out a hand toward one of the chairs.

  She sat down at the closest setting, balancing on the edge of the seat, her legs crossed at the ankles below her. She folded her hands in her lap and waited for him.

  “Please,” he murmured, waving at her food and moving toward the refrigerator.

  Hesitantly, she picked up the fork, rolling it between her fingers.

  Plunking down a pair of water bottles between them, he sat down and dug into his pile of eggs.

  She took it as a sign and stabbed a small cube of potato with the tines.

  “Feeling better about everything?”


  She thought about lying. “No.”

  They ate in silence, but the discomfort was too much for her to bear.

  “I, uh, I was thinking about what you said. About using the time travel—whatever, you know what I mean. I just… I don’t know how.”

  He chewed, regarding her lazily, but even after he swallowed, he merely regarded for her a moment. “Well, what is it you hope to discover?”

  “How am I supposed to know?” she shot back, instantly defensive. But she knew. Of course, she knew. She took a deep breath and sighed heavily. “What they want with me, and from me.”

  He nodded and shoved some potato across his plate while he chewed. “And what do you know so far?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t really know. I met Iain at a bar. I was with a friend.” When had Evan become a friend? She decided to mull over that word choice later. “I mean, it wasn’t a set up or anything, he was just there with the rest of the officers in his unit and we were introduced. We talked a little, but he didn’t ask for my number or anything, he was polite. I ran into him again at the coffee shop in the exchange, he said hi, and asked if I was going out with everyone again that night. I saw him there…” she trailed off, wondering if she should really delve into how she had had sex with the other man. Alec had told her it wasn’t any of his business, but…“We got better acquainted—”

  He jaw ticked. He was obviously gnashing his teeth, and she pretended not to notice. But her heart skipped a beat and blood rushed through her ears. Her face grew hot and she licked her lips free of salt and spice and grease. She wanted to tell him it was only a hurried, semi-drunken coupling that was more like scratching an itch than an intimate rendezvous. They’d barely lasted a few minutes once the condom was on.

  “There was something odd.” She furrowed her brow, remembering the condom wrapper she felt compelled to retrieve at the crack of dawn the next morning. “He, um… he dropped a scrap of paper.” She paused, trying to remember the words scratched across the crumpled college-ruled lines. “About Flora MacDonald.” She brightened. “It said Flora MacDonald, and then underneath it ‘Thistle and Rose.’ Or maybe it was ‘Rose and Thistle.’”