Page 92 of The Shape of Silence

“Yes.”

Oh, and his smile then—that rare, unguarded smile that transformed his whole face—made her certain that no grand proposal could ever have meant half so much.

Still wearing a lazy smile at the memory, Avery saw Charlie at the water’s edge, inside the slow-rolling surf, having given up his desire to chomp at the waves—today’s were simply too small. The happy hound lifted his head and stared beyond Avery for a moment before darting from the water and past her, tail wagging as he went.

She put her hand in the cool sand and turned a bit, expecting she would find her husband, Alasdair, or Eòin—Charlie’s favorite people.

It was Morggán.

Her husband—she still couldn’t fathom it, but her heart smiled all the same.

He crossed the narrow stretch of sand with the same easy confidence with which he seemed to do everything, his long strides not slowed at all by the shifting ground that often threatened to steal Avery’s footing. The sea breeze tugged at the loose folds of his tunic and lifted the edge of the dark plaid draped across one shoulder. Sunlight caught in his brown hair, now a little longer than when she had first met him, while Charlie circled him in exuberant loops before dashing ahead and racing back again.

As often happened, Avery forgot the sea before her, the cries of gulls overhead, and the castle standing watch behind her. She saw only the man striding toward her—the same wounded soldier who had once collapsed inside her forest, now strong again, impossibly broad of shoulder, his gray eyes already intent upon her. Even across the distance, she felt the fierce warmth of his gaze, and her belly flipped a little with delight.

“Ye canna hide in plain sight, love,” he called before he reached her.

She feigned offense, and insisted, “I am not hiding.” She was merely taking a break.

He grinned at this, lifting one brow to challenge her, but said no more about it before sitting down next to her in the sand. He leaned sideways a bit and kissed her briefly.

“Good morn to ye, wife,” he said affectionately.

“Good morning. And where had you gone—gone before I woke?”

He stared out at the barely moving water, his hand in Charlie’s fur, scratching absently along his back. “To the training fields. Too long we’ve been idle here, and we dinna want the lads to grow complacent.” He glanced sideways and asked, “Dare I ask, which of my sisters sent ye to the beach today seeking escape?”

She hesitated, unwilling to whine about his sisters, and then said, “It wasn’t your sisters at all.” Ignoring the skeptical look he slanted toward her, she said, “I like the salty air.”

“And the quiet, nae doubt,” he suggested.

“Yes, although it’s not quiet like the forest.”

“Nae, but I ken ye find peace here, and likely are pleased that not one of my sisters would ever go barefoot, and neither would any one of them endure sand inside their shoes.”

She laughed softly. “That, I am thankful for.” She let her gaze drift back to the water, where the waves rolled lazily ashore before retreating once more. “It reminds me of home,” she said. “Home in California, that is.”

Morggán turned his face toward her. “Were ye near the sea?”

“A few miles from it.” She nodded toward the water. “Not exactly like this. The beaches there were wider, and the waves much bigger. The water was warmer, too. My parents used to take me sometimes.”

He looked out across the sea again and was quiet for a long time.

“Will ye speak of it now?” he asked after a time, his voice careful. “About that day, and what ye recall.”

She turned to him. “The day I... came here? To this time?”

Morggán nodded but kept his gaze on the sea.

Avery drew her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. They had spoken, on more than one occasion, about her world, the future, and how different it was from now. She’d tried, mostly unsuccessfully she thought, to describe cars and skyscrapers, and telephones and modern war as she understood it, with guns and planes and tanks. She’d told him of indoor plumbing and electricity, and as many modern appliances as she could recall. Morggán had listened with unfailing patience, asking thoughtful questions when he had them, though she suspected much of it remained beyond anything he could truly imagine.

He’d asked her before about how she’d come to be in the forest, months and months ago, closer to when they first met, but she knew she hadn’t answered coherently.

“We’d come to Scotland because of my father’s work,” she began now. “We’d been here for almost three weeks, traveling all over the country. We’d gone to castles and museums and several movie premieres. My parents wanted me to see everything.” A faint smile touched her lips before fading. “That day... everything was perfectly ordinary. We were walking together in a small town, just killing time before an event that evening. We were window shopping, I remember.” She frowned slightly, searching for details that had become elusive over the years. “Then the air changed.”

Morggán glanced at her.

“It became... heavy, somehow. The wind came up all at once.” She shook her head. “I remember that there was no sound, like I couldn’t hear cars or even my parents’ voices. I remember thinking it felt wrong.”