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“No. It’s not. Not anymore.”

He nodded. “I will take a look. And what about scurvy?”

“People need to eat raw fruit and vegetables. Even if they just chew on raw leaves that are edible, like cabbage…right, it’s not in season…but even dandelion leaves. I can show your cook a wonderful salad…”

She was bossy. He liked it. “Ye tell me I behave like a caveman. Ye behave like a mistress of the house.”

Their gazes locked. The idea of the little fox being the bossy wee wife of his house was strangely sweet and beautiful.

With a long breath out, he took her palm in his, marveling at the rush of tingles that ran through his body at the touch of her skin against his. He gently opened her palm and brought it to his lips, then opened his mouth and took the raspberries into it. He watched her eyes widen and her pupils dilate as he licked her palm in the process and kissed her skin. The sweet taste of raspberries exploded in his mouth, but it was nothing compared to the feel of her skin against his.

When he let go of her hand, she looked disappointed. He was, too.

“How did ye travel in time, lass?” he asked.

“What? You believe me now suddenly?”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “I dinna ken. But if ye did travel in time, that would explain yer outrageous ideas. Nothing else can.”

“I told you, I was by that rock, with the handprint and some strange symbols carved into it. Then a woman came, Sìneag, who told me she was a faerie. She told me about traveling in time. And about you being the man destined for me. And then I put my hand into the handprint…and poof. I was gone. Fell through the rock like it was air.”

This all sounded like nonsense. Like a child’s wild imagination. And yet, she seemed so convinced, so sure. And he supposed he knew exactly which rock she spoke of. There was a rock just like that over on the hill near Dunyvaig at the old Pictish fort. People avoided it like it was possessed. They said faeries live there, and if they didn’t like a human, they took the person into their faerie kingdom to keep as a slave.

Should he tell her about that rock? God almighty, what if her way back home was right there, and she didn’t know it? Then she would leave right away. And he was a selfish, sinful man, but he couldn’t part with her yet.

God’s bones, not yet.

“Do ye love yer husband?” he asked. His voice was like gravel.

“Ex-husband,” she said. “He’s not my husband anymore. And no, I don’t.”

“Are ye sure ’tis nae why ye want to return?” he asked.

“I used to love him, but he broke my heart. Over and over again, he chose other women over me.”

Aulay’s heart beat faster. If she only wanted to go back to have a bairn, he could get her pregnant… He could give her that. He didn’t know anything about female eggs and such, but he knew the traditional way of making babies worked just fine. Would that be enough for her to stay?

“Only an idiot would do that. I havna met anyone like ye in all my life. I loved my wife. I was happy with her. I’ve achieved much, seen the world through my trade and through war. And yet, never in all my years have I met someone as precious and beautiful as ye. If I had ye, Jenny, I’d never let ye go.”

She didn’t say anything, just stared at him, her eyes glistening.

“Mayhap that faerie was right, Jenny, and ye and I are meant to be together. Mayhap she was right to send ye here through time. Mayhap ye dinna need to return to yer time. I can get ye pregnant. Let me give ye a child. I want one, too.”

“Aulay, that’s not how—” she said finally.

But he didn’t let her finish that rejection.

He backed her against the wall of the stables, planted his hands at either side of her face, and sealed his mouth with hers. She tasted and smelled like raspberries, and he wanted to inhale her whole. Her mouth was so tender, it was like falling into a cloud. She was all silky and smooth and warm and soft. He loved her curves, the feminine flesh he ached to kiss and bite and grab and hold. His blood boiled as the need to claim her, to own her, made his heart thump and desire pulsate in his groin.

“Mistress…” came a shy voice from behind him.

Aulay groaned against her mouth. Maybe behind the stables wasn’t such a good place to kiss a woman. Unwillingly, he lifted his lips from hers and looked over his shoulder.

It was Artur. He did look much better—his sores were smaller, and he was clearly on the mend. His mouth was stained with raspberry juice.

“’Tis Mhairi. ’Tisna good! Bhatair wilna want ye there, but ye helped us so much. Mayhap ye can help her. Please come.”

CHAPTER 20