Free Touch of Darkness by Christina Dodd Page B

me, but I love this. I love the wind in my hair. I love the feeling of freedom."
    No response.
    "When I'm up here, I wish I could do this forever. I wish I could climb to the clouds, and skim the tops of the trees. But I won't." She chuckled. "Am I making you nervous?"
    No response.
    "Did you feel like that when you flew?"
    Still no response.
    She didn't know if he was petrified or catching a nap. As soon as they were over the mainland and the winds stabilized enough for her to glance away, she twisted around and looked at him.
    His eyes were closed.
    But he wasn't afraid.
    He wasn't asleep.
    He wore an expression of bliss unlike any she'd seen . . . except once, when she'd held him in her arms, in her body, and felt him shudder in ecstasy. She faced forward again, and wondered what the story behind his flying might be—and desperately wished she didn't care.

Chapter 9

     
    Rurik stood on the mat in the entry of the small bed-and-breakfast. He was dripping from the rain that had been falling for the last four hours, and Mrs. Reddenhurst wouldn't let him walk any farther into the warmth.
    Instead, she stood with her hands on her ample hips, and impatiently listened to him beg.
    "Please, my wife and I need a room." He wiped his face with the kitchen towel she handed him. "We decided to hike the Highlands for our honeymoon. Because we both have, you know, Scottish ancestry. And we really liked Braveheart. We were supposed stay in Cameron Village tonight, but then the rain started falling—"
    "A wee mist." Mrs. Reddenhurst was tall, stout, and brisk, with a strong accent. "It does that here."
    "Yes, I guess it does. We brought slickers." He lifted the edge of his poncho and showed her the camouflage waterproof nylon. "But we took the wrong turn. We're cold and we're hungry. Please, please, if you have any compassion in your heart—" This place was perfect. Small, out-of-the-way, a private home that catered to tourists, but not well-known.
    "Mr. Telford, I told ye. We dunna' have any rooms left."
    "A closet. An attic. Someplace we can bed down for the night. We'll leave first thing in the morning." He gestured out the door. "I promised Jennifer I'd come ahead and get us a room. Please. We're newly-weds and I don't want her to realize . .." He shuffled his feet. "She thinks I can do anything and I wish . . ." He took Mrs. Reddenhurst's reddened hand, and looked soulful and pitiful. "Please, don't mess me up now."
    He had her. Mrs. Reddenhurst sighed hugely, but she said, "Ye remind me of my husband. A big doo-fus with more hair than brains." Taking her hand away, she wiped it on her apron. "All I've got is the attic."
    "We'll take it."
    "I call it the honeymoon suite."
    "That's perfect!"
    "I call it the honeymoon suite because the bed is awful, and ye'll both roll to the middle."
    "Oh. That's even better." He'd never spoken with more sincerity in his life.
    "Yell have to share my bathroom. That's down the attic stairs, first door to the left."
    "Here's my credit card." He dragged his wallet out of the backpack. When the charge came through the Telford account, Jasha would notice at once. It was a smarter and safer way than a cell phone call to let the family know he was alive and safe.
    "Ye'll have to make do with steak and eggs for dinner. I havena' got salmon or lamb for ye!"
    "Whatever you're making smells good." It did, and he was starving. "Do you need to see my ID?"
    "I'm not waiting on ye." She shook her finger at him. "Ye'll have to fend for yerselves!"
    "We can do that."
    "When will yer wifey get here?" Mrs. Reddenhurst peered out the door into the mist.
    "I left her back about a mile ago. I'll run up and bring her back." He did his best imitation of a bashful American. "We haven't seen anything but sheep all day, and she's sort of embarrassed by the way she looks. So if you don't mind, she'll stop in and say hello to you, then skedaddle up the stairs to the attic."
    "I'm fixing supper, so take her to the attic and let