They would have today, and their tomorrow. Whatever happened after, she’d have no regrets.
With the last of the laundry hung, she stepped back, lifted the basket to rest it on her hip. She saw Hugh prancing down the hill.
“Well, so you decided to come home. What have you got there?” Her eyes widened as she recognized the brown bulk he carried in his mouth. “My bag!”
She dropped the basket and rushed to him. And Hugh, sensing a game, began to race in circles around her.
Conal watched from the doorway. The tea was steeping in the pot, and he’d been about to call to her. Now he simply stood.
Sheets billowed like sails in the wind. He caught the clean, wet scent of them, and the drift of rosemary and lemon balm from the herb bed she’d weeded that morning. Her laughter lifted up, bright and delighted, as she raced with the dog.
His tattered old jeans hung on her, though she’d hacked them off to above her ankles. She’d rolled up the cuffs, pushed up the sleeves on his sweater, but now as she ran around with Hugh, they’d come down again and fell over her hands. She hadn’t put on her shoes.
She was a joy to watch. And when, he wondered, had he stopped letting joy into his life? The shadow of his fate had grown longer with each passing year. He’d huddled under it, he thought now, telling himself he was standing clear.
He had let no one touch him, let nothing be important to him but his work. He had estranged himself from his father and his home. Those had been his choices, and his right. Now, watching Allena play tug-of-war with the big dog in a yard filled with sun and sailing white sheets, he wondered for the first time what he’d missed along the way.
And still, whatever he’d missed, she was here.
The pendant was here.
The solstice was closing in.
He could refuse it. He could deny it. However much this woman called to his blood, he would, at the end of that longest day, determine his own fate.
It would not be magic that forced his destiny, but his own will.
He saw Allena yank, Hugh release. She stumbled back, clutching something to her chest, then landed hard on her back. Conal was out the door and across the yard in a single skipping heartbeat.
“Are you hurt?” He issued one sharp order to the dog in Gaelic that had Hugh hanging his head.
“Of course not.” She started to sit up, but Conal was already gathering her, stroking, murmuring something in Gaelic that sounded lovely. Loving. Her heart did one long, slow cartwheel. “Conal.”
“The damn dog probably outweighs you, and you’ve bones like a bird.”
“We were just playing. There, now, you’ve hurt Hugh’s feelings. Come here, baby, it’s okay.”
While Conal sat back on his heels and scowled, she hugged and cuddled the dog. “It’s all right. He didn’t mean it, whatever it was. Did you, Conal?”
Conal caught the sidelong glance the dog sent him, and had to call it smug. “I did.”
She only laughed and kissed Hugh’s nose. “Such a smart dog, such a good dog,” she crooned. “He found my bag and brought it home. I, on the other hand, am a moron. I forgot all about it.”
Conal studied the oversized purse. It was wet, filthy, and now riddled with teeth marks. That didn’t seem to bother her a bit. “It’s taken a beating.”
“I must’ve dropped it in the storm. Everything’s in here. My passport, my credit cards, my ticket. My makeup.” She hugged the bag, thrilled to have her lipstick back. “Oh, and dozens of things. Including my copy of Margaret’s itinerary. Do you think the phone’s working now?”
Without waiting for him to answer, she leaped up. “I can call her hotel, let her know I’m all right. She must be frantic.”
She dashed into the house, clutching the bag, and Conal stayed as he was.
He didn’t want the phones to be working. He didn’t want that to break their bubble. Realizing it left him shaken. Here, he thought, at the first chance to reach out of their world, she’d run to do it.
Of course she had. He pressed his fingers to his eyes. Wouldn’t he have done the same? She had a life beyond this, beyond him. The romance of it had swept her away for a while, just as it had nearly swept him. She would get her feet back under her and move on. That was as it should be. And what he wanted.
But when he rose to go after her, there was an ache inside him that hadn’t been there before.
“I got through.” Allena sent him a brilliant smile. She stood by the counter, the phone in her hand and what appeared to be half her worldly goods dumped on the table. “She’s checked in, and they’re going to ring her room. I only hope she didn’t call my parents. I’d hate to think they’d—Margaret! Oh, I’m so glad you’re—”