Love by the Stroke of Midnight by Raven McAllan (best historical biographies .txt) 📗

half of me. So stop this nonsense, he’s atoned or whatever and he’s mine.

“No need to shout,” Paden said weakly. “I think they heard you. Do you really love me?”

“You’re mine,” she said out loud. “Do not dare renege. You got me here, you got me to believe most of what’s gone on, and well…what else?”

“Love?”

“Depends on how you behave, what you say or do.”

“Fish and chips,” Paden said, his colour restored. “And the rest of the story?”

“I’m standing comfortably,” Marcail said with a grin. “So you can begin. Maybe by sitting on that log. You know as in sit down before you fall down?”

Paden nodded. “I am a bit shaky to be honest. So much rests on you and me here, to achieve the correct outcome.”

They moved to the log, and Marcail sat sideways on it. “Lean on me so you don’t wobble off,” she said. “Tell me how I’ve gone from a total non-believer of anything supernatural, to accepting I’ve been talking in my mind to you, had hot passionate sex in my mind with you.” She blushed as Paden laughed.

“Damned good it was, as well,” he answered. “Good fun, eh?’

“Yes, well,” Marcail said, flustered. “Let me carry on without getting all hot and bothered. Where was I?”

“Hot sex.”

“Apart from that,” she said severely.

“You met one of your ancestors, agreed to be here with me, discovered we were a couple or whatever in a previous lifetime, and if we don’t become one again something might happen to me. Not that I’m pressuring you. Whatever happens will be as it should.”

“Scare me why don’t you. I know there must be more.”

Paden leant on her side. “That’s the gist. To condense it all, after Culloden, my ancestor, who we can now say was me, as you were Morven, died at Culloden. After marrying his lady there. The pearl was a symbol of their love and celebrated the marriage. To some it also showed his death.”

“No wonder I hate that name and stone. So, Morven?”

He nodded. “Morven. That last-minute marriage saved their—our son—from bastardy and upset a few people. Instead of being allowed to die, to live again, Rian, which incidentally means royal—as does Paden—was doomed to live a half-life, able to see what was going on but never to take part unless until one of Morven’s ancestors got to the age you are now, without a mate and without belief. I had to show you what we are to be allowed to live. Far-fetched to one who doesn’t believe, life for me.”

“And now you can live?” Marcail asked anxiously. “Like in you and me live?”

“I can…” Paden kissed her cheek. “As long as we wed within the next twelvemonth, before you pass your thirty years.”

“And stay married for at least the next thirty.”

“That bit’s easy. What was Skye all about?”

“Nothing to you now, that’s for someone else to sort out.”

“What now then?” She wondered idly who the sorter-out person would be.

“Whoever is thirty next.”

“That’ll be Baird then. Poor Baird.”

“Next, apart from telling your parents, getting married and so on?” Paden queried.

Marcail nodded. “Apart from that.”

“Let’s go for fish and chips. This life has given me a taste for them.”

* * * *

Marcail blinked as she watched the view of Paden and herself walking hand in hand back along the lakeside grow dim and finally fade.

“Was that us?”

He nodded. “It was and it is and it will be.”

“But we were here and not there? Sort of like a dream, looking into the future or what is it called, remote viewing?”

“It could be called that, amongst other things. It is as we want it to be.”

“You’re doing that clear as mud explaining thing again.” She mock thumped him on the arm.

Paden laughed and put his palm to hers. “It was…a glimpse of how it could be at first, then how I’d hope it could be, and then…”

“As it will be?” Marcail asked. “You, me, us.”

Paden stared at her intensely. “Are you sure? I know it’s all been sudden for you. After all, you had no idea I’ve been…”

He hesitated and Marcail looked at him curiously. “You’ve been?” she prompted. “Been what?”

“Part of your life for as long as you’ve been here in this entity.”

Things were becoming clearer now. “I know,” Marcail said, not totally truthfully. “Well, from the time I realised I had two voices in my head that spoke to me, anyway. Almost all my life.” She grinned at his stunned expression. “Okay, I’ll fess up, I haven’t known for long, only since we were stuck in the bothy. But your voice kept reminding me of something, and then the more I heard you in my head, as we are now, the more it niggled me. Not just the voice, but how comfortable you made me feel.”

“You make me sound like an old sofa.”

All squishy? She sniggered. “Nah. Unafraid, happy, where I should be, and who I should be with. Loved and loving back in return.” Marcail rested her head on his shoulder and almost cried at his expression of love, desire and contentment. Her heart sped up as he slowly, almost in worship, kissed her and held her close.

“Believe it, ma ghaol, all I have is yours, all I am is for you. All I can be… When I met you, I knew. You are my life.”

“When I met you, I knew I’d come home.”

 

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Love’s Bloom: The Daisy Chain

Raven McAllan

Excerpt

 

Stewart, Daisy’s soon-to-be ex-lover—even if he wasn’t aware of it—came with a groan and a shudder that Daisy swore shifted the bed three inches.

Outside rain splattered on the window, and the wind crept in around the sash and stirred the curtains.

Welcome to spring in Scotland. Where was sunshine and warm balmy days?

Not there for sure.

Unsatisfied—not only by the weather—and not anywhere near sated, Daisy muttered something unrepeatable and thought, ‘sod it, I’m not faking again’. Faking an orgasm was about as satisfying