Love Across Time by B. J. McMinn Read Free Book Online

significance of his statement.
    “Aye, ye be home since the day we married, nigh two months ago.”
    She meant to make a superb retort to that statement, she truly did. The thought formed, her mouth opened, and then darkness fell like a blackout in New York City.

CHAPTER 3

    The lass fainted. She’d swooned like a faint-hearted English maiden when he knew she came from good hearty Scottish stock. Hands on his hips, he glared at his wife slumped out cold on the mound of pillows. If she meant to declare their vows void because of non-consummation, he’d not have the blame placed at his door. He could hardly lay claim to his bride while she lay unconscious.
    He hadn’t sealed the contract as his aunt believed. On their wedding night, the servant he’d instructed to place a bottle of his finest wine in his chambers had failed to do so. Wanting the evening to be perfect, he’d gone to retrieve the bottle himself. He thought he’d been gone only a few minutes, but later realized Conner had distracted him, and he’d left Margaret alone for nearly an hour. Apparently, she’d grown weary of the wait and had left their chamber to search for him.
    His aunt’s screams had brought half the castle running. He remembered how his heartbeat had faltered when he saw Margaret crumbled at the foot of the stairs like a small, broken bairn; her long, reddish-blond hair, stained with blood, splayed across the stone floor like newly laid rushes, blood seeped from her nose, her leg swollen twice its size. At first, he thought her dead, but then he detected shallow breaths: the slight rise and fall of her breasts.
    While he’d waited for Ursula to tend to Margaret’s injuries, he’d had time to ponder the many accidents that had plagued him for months. There had been the stray arrow that nearly plunged into his back when he rode to the Campbell holdings. One night, because of his lack of appetite, he’d fed one of the kitchen cats a morsel of meat from his plate. The animal had gotten sick, convulsed, and died. He had accepted the fact that someone might want to do him harm but not Margaret.
    When Ursula had finished setting Margaret’s leg and bandaging the gash on her head, he’d gently lifted her into his arms and brought her to this empty chamber.
    Once he had Margaret abed, Ursula had lifted her gown to examine for further injuries. He had watched in horror as the blue bruise on her side and stomach grew darker and larger. A definite sign of internal injuries. His thoughts scrambled to make sense of why she would be the one injured when he had had several narrow escapes, yet remain unharmed.
    Panic had gripped him when Ursula lifted her sympathetic gaze to him and had shaken her head.
    “No!” The deep agonizing groan had escaped as a heart-sinking grief gripped him. Margaret was his soul mate. He couldn’t lose her. Since then he’d nursed her day and night. Slept little, ate less, and prayed insistently. Picking up her delicate hand, he placed a kiss in the palm then tucked it under the covers. How had the lass survived such a fall? Slight of built, she weighed no more than seven stones. Yet, her generous curves were all a man could ask for.
    Slightly bent over her still small form, he studied her delicate features. He had fallen in love with her at first sight. It hadn’t taken long for the sweet biddable lass to worm her way into his heart. He chuckled. The Campbell hadn’t realized it, but he would have accepted Margaret without the more than generous dowry.
    His calloused finger tenderly traced the smooth line of her cheekbone. Even after weeks abed, her beauty still had the power to twist his stomach into knots. When she’d mentioned other men with such familiarity, jealousy had driven him to speak harshly.
    “How be the lassie me fine laird.”
    Ursula peeked over his shoulder. Engrossed in his wife, he hadn’t heard her enter the room.
    “Yer wee chat be o’er. ‘Er did she fall asleep afore ye