The Kiss: An Anthology About Love and Other Close Encounters

True Love’s Kiss

Ben Cassidy

The tower stairs were dark, and thick with dust and cobwebs. Dirt and grime covered the stone walls on either side. Something small and fast scurried away into the shadows.

Sir Giles climbed the stairs, his face set with grim determination. In his right hand was a deadly longsword, ready to spill the blood of the wicked. In his left was a blazing torch which scattered the shadows of the stairwell as he ascended. On his back was strapped a large kite shield, battered from the blows of many foes and beasts.

Giles stopped and frowned. He turned to the two people that followed behind him. I fear some foul magic blocks our path, he said in a low tone. Some ancient evil that may deny our passage.

Really, Sir Giles? A beautiful Elf woman in gleaming white and gold armor stepped up behind the knight. She tossed back her flaming red hair. What was your first clue, that shimmering blue force field of magic energy right in front of you?

Sir Giles looked back up the tower steps at the wall of blazing blue light. Please, Ella, watch your sarcasm. It does not befit a servant of your fair and benevolent goddess.

Ella looked carefully over her armor and plucked off a stray spiderweb. Whatever.

Another woman, a human girl of about sixteen summers in a long purple robe, glanced around Ella at the shimmering field of energy. So, she said hesitantly, what exactly do we do now?

Sir Giles took a step back. It will need a strong counterspell to break the field, Lily. We will have need of your powerful magic.

There was a beat of silence.

"My…magic? Lily said uncertainly. Right. My magic. Got it. She fumbled at her belt, unclasping the leather book holder there. Right on it, Sir Giles."

Ella hooked her mace onto her belt and crossed her arms. Oh, this should be good.

Shut up, Lily hissed. She balanced her long wooden staff against the stairwell wall, and opened the book in front of her.

Hurry, Lily, Sir Giles urged. We don’t have much time.

Ella looked up at Giles with a cocked eyebrow. What in the name of the Forest Spirit are you talking about? We have all the time in the world.

Well, said Sir Giles uncomfortably. There is Torval. I believe he is still down below, fighting that demon-beast from the fourth plane of fire.

Ella gave a disinterested nod. Oh, right. I thought it was the third plane of fire.

Lily almost dropped her book. She stared at Sir Giles. Wait. You left Torval down there? All by himself?

Giles hefted his sword. His rage will give him strength to defeat his enemy.

But… Lily glanced down the dark stairwell behind them. Couldn’t he use our help? Some assistance, or something?

He has Nedric, Sir Giles said with a certain degree of impatience.

No he doesn’t, Lily said quickly. Nedric is outside with the baggage. You told him to stay put, remember?

Your fear is unfounded, Lily, Sir Giles said confidently. Torval is a barbarian of the North. He has wrestled vicious beasts since his youth and torn them apart with his bare hands.

Ew, Ella said with a shudder.

A roar echoed up from below, followed by what sounded like a scream.

Sir Giles scrunched his forehead in thought. All the same, though, we should probably hurry. Lily, the counterspell, if you please.

Ella gave a sweet smile. No pressure.

Lily flipped the pages of her spellbook. She looked up to see both Giles and Ella staring at her. A…counterspell. Right. Totally got it. She flipped another page and swallowed hard. Any second here—

I would strike at it, came a gravelly voice from the darkness, but the field has no discernible anatomy.

Hey, said Ella as she rubbed some dirt off her breastplate, at least you might be able to actually sneak up on it, Dirk.

A hollow, mirthless laugh came from all around them. "You mock me, Elf? You should fear me. For I am one with the shadows. The invisible hand of death. Darkness my shroud, terror my—"

"Oh, Talrilla’s Pearls, Dirk, we can all totally see you. Ella tilted her head and glanced back down the stairwell. You’re right there."

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence.

The unseen hand of fear, came the voice again. A living shadow of—

She is right, Dirk, Sir Giles said. We can all see you.

A man in a black, hooded cloak stepped away from the wall. An evil-looking dagger was in his hand. It’s not fair, he mumbled. "There’s nowhere to bloody hide in this stairwell. Just look at it. Would it have killed these people to have put a few pillars in here, or some loose hanging tapestries, or…something?"

It’s all right, Dirk, said Sir Giles consolingly. No one’s blaming you.

Ella raised her hand. For the record, I totally am.

Dirk threw back his hood angrily. It doesn’t help that you’re carrying that blasted torch with you everywhere we go.

Sir Giles straightened. I need it to see by, Dirk. You know I have poor night vision.

Lily pointed a hesitant finger at the black-clad rogue. Shouldn’t…Dirk be helping Torval out? I mean, he’s not really useful to us here, is he?

Dirk snorted and crossed his arms. Are you kidding? Did you see the size of that demon-beast? It was bigger than the last tavern we went to.

Dirk’s a scaredy-cat, Ella sang. Scaredy-scaredy-scaredy cat.

I’m not scared. Dirk glared at the elf cleric, then looked at the wall. I just…pick my battles carefully, that’s all. The element of surprise is wasted on a demon-beast. They have no appreciation for the proper application of stealth and ambush techniques.

Another booming roar came from down below.

Lily looked up at Sir Giles. "Torval could be dying down there."

Would that we could be so lucky, Ella sighed.

Sir Giles gave a slow nod. Perhaps Lady Lily has a point. Dirk, go and give Torval some support.

Dirk quickly uncrossed his arms. Excuse me?

Giles made a shooing motion with his sword. Strike from the shadows, and whatever else it is you do. Go on now.

Dirk gave an uncertain glance down the stairwell. He tugged at the fastening to his cloak. Right…now?

Scaredy-cat, scaredy-cat, Ella whispered. Dirk is a scaredy-cat.

I am not! Dirk shouted.

Please, please, Sir Giles said with a heavy sigh. Both of you stop it this moment. Dirk, help Torval out. That’s an order.

The rogue scowled, then glared over at Ella. Your time is coming, Elf.

Ella shrugged. Whatever.

Dirk moved down the stairs and vanished.

There was a long moment of silence.

We can still see you, Dirk, Ella called.

"Dragon’s fire! the thief cursed. He jumped out from the wall again. You want a piece of me, Elf? Is that what you want? Let’s do it, right here, right—"

That’s enough! Sir Giles bellowed. "Now Dirk, go."

Dirk gave Ella a hateful look, then turned sulkily back down the stairs.

All right, Lily, said Sir Giles. Do you have the counterspell prepared?

"The…what? Lily said. She looked down at the book. Oh, right. The counterspell."

Come on, mage, said Ella sweetly. We’re all waiting for a powerful display of your magic.

Lily cleared her throat. I…think this is it. She held the book up in one hand, straining to read the strange runes in the flickering light of the torch. Yeah. I’m pretty sure, anyways.

Sir Giles gave her a confused glance. I do not understand. Surely you can identify a basic counterspell, Lily?

Lily paled. Sure, she said with a faltering smile. Of…course I can. She reached for her staff with a slightly trembling hand. I mean, it’s just a stupid little counterspell, right? She glanced down again at the spellbook. How hard can it be?

Ella popped open a small hand mirror and examined her face. For a powerful, experienced mage like you? Not hard at all.

Lily gave a slow nod. She took a deep breath and looked up at the shimmering wall of energy. She looked down at the book and gritted her teeth. "Nallis Oli Garrellis…Octanus!" She thrust the tip of her staff forward.

The wood blazed with a bright greenish light.

The field of energy flashed green.

Sir Giles took a step back, a smile on his face. There, Lily, I knew you could—

There was another flashing green glow, and an animated tree-man appeared in the narrow stairwell. Its roots snaked and whispered over the stone steps. Branches shaped like hands grasped and lashed out in all directions. Two eyes blazed in the knotted bark of its trunk-like torso.

Oh, Pixie Flickers, Lily whispered.

The tree-man roared. It lunged forward at Sir Giles.

Giles swiped with his sword, deflecting the attack.

The tree man bellowed in anger. Its leaves swished as it lurched on the stones of the stairway.

Don’t just stand there, you idiot, Ella said. She adjusted her hand mirror to examine the other side of her face. "You summoned it. Get control of it."

Get control of it, Lily repeated numbly. She frantically turned a page in her spellbook. Right. Get control of it—

Sir Giles buried the edge of his blade deep into the trunk of the creature.

The tree-man lashed out a branched hand with a roar.

Giles crashed back onto the stairs, his armor rattling. His sword was still lodged firmly in the trunk of the creature.

Lily flipped wildly through her book. Get control of it, get control of it, get—

Oh, Pearls, Ella exclaimed. "Do I have to do everything myself?" She closed her hand mirror and reached for her mace.

Sir Giles climbed back to his feet. He waved his torch at the tree-man. I will keep it at bay, he called back behind him. Lily, cast a fireball!

Lily turned even whiter than before. A fireball? She flipped faster. "A fireball. Ok, I think I can—"

Ella unstrapped the shield on her back and shoved Lily aside. "Oh, you are so utterly useless."

The tree-man gave a deep, thrumming howl. It swiped its arms at Sir Giles.

From the darkness, death! Dirk emerged from between Lily and Ella. He dove past Sir Giles, tumbled around the side of the tree-man, then drove his dagger up to the hilt in the trunk of the creature. Ha! he shouted triumphantly. He took a step back and struck a dramatic pose. One with the shado—

The tree-man whirled and whipped his spindly arm across Dirk’s face.

Dirk gave howling cry. He stumbled backwards, his hands over his nose, then crashed into the wall and fell to the floor.

Ella rolled her eyes. "You can’t backstab a tree, Dirk."

Dirk wailed. He rolled back and forth on the steps.

Sir Giles thrust his torch forward. The fire raked across the tree-man’s outstretched branch arm.

The leaves on the tree-man’s hands smoldered and burned. The creature gave a pitiful cry. It shrank back towards the shimmering blue field of magical energy.

It doesn’t seem to like fire! Sir Giles yelled triumphantly.

Fancy a tree not liking fire, Ella mumbled. She gave Lily a cutting glance. "Now if only we had a fireball—"

Lily thrust the open book towards the Elf. "You think it’s so easy? Why don’t you cast it then?"

My nose! Dirk screamed. Oh gods, it broke my nose!

Have at thee, foul tree-thing! Sir Giles slammed the fiery end of his torch straight into the tree-man’s trunk.

With a strange warbling scream, the tree-man stumbled backwards, trailing smoke and embers. It crashed into the shifting field of magical energy.

There was a horrible screeching sound, followed by a blue flash that was brighter than the sun. A smell of burnt ozone filled the stairwell.

Sir Giles lowered the arm that he had thrown in front of his face. Well. I say. Good job, Lily.

Lily rubbed her eyes, coughing from the drifting smoke that hung in the air. She peered up the stairwell.

The shimmering blue field of energy was gone. In front of it lay the burnt and charred corpse of the tree-man.

Sir Giles prodded the blackened remains with his foot. Not very…traditional. But it gets the job done, I suppose.

Ella lowered her mace. "You’re giving her credit for that? Pearls, she had no blinking idea what she was doing."

Sir Giles retrieved his sword with a grimace. He tried his best to rub the ashes and soot off the handle of the weapon. Come now, Ella. No need for pettiness. He raised his weapon. Onwards!

Ella glared at Lily.

Lily shut her spellbook. She gave an apologetic shrug.

Oh, my nose. Dirk stood up. His hands were still cupped over his nose, muffling his voice. I need healing, Ella.

The Elf cleric strapped her shield on her back again. She glanced up at Dirk. Yeah, that’s going to happen.

Sir Giles led the way up the stairs.

Ella and Lily followed dutifully behind him.

Dirk just slouched against the wall and sobbed softly.

The stairs of the tower opened into a large room. There was one small, barred window, which let in a stream of moonlight. Spider-webs and dust hung heavy and thick, covering the sparse furniture. In only one place had no dust gathered.

In the direct center of the room was a large altar-like bed, draped in white silk. On it laid a beautiful young woman. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, her hands folded serenely on her breast. Golden hair fell over the pillow under her head, curled and radiant. The blue dress she wore was of silk, undimmed and unfaded by the obvious passage of time around her. Her eyes were closed. She showed no signs of life.

Ella wrinkled her nose. Is she…dead?

Sir Giles shook his head. His eyes were fastened on the beautiful creature in front of him. Nay, dear Ella. She but sleeps a sleep as deep as death, waiting to be awakened.

Is that all? Lily pushed forward and grabbed the woman’s foot. She shook it fiercely. Hey! Wake up.

Sir Giles laughed. Sweet, ignorant Lily. This maiden can only be awakened by a kiss from her true love.

Ella closed her eyes. Please, tell me this isn’t the reason why we climbed up all those stairs.

Sir Giles turned with a frown. I am a knight of the realm, fair Ella, lest you may have forgotten.

Ella sighed. How could I?

If Sir Giles heard, he didn’t show it. It is my duty to rescue those who are in peril. To defend the weak and innocent. To be the savior of those who are in evil’s grip.

Lily peered at the sleeping woman’s face. Especially if they’re young and beautiful, I suppose?

Sir Giles cleared his throat. That…is one of the benefits of the job, yes.

Lily gave Giles a cold glance. "And I suppose that you are this woman’s true love?"

Sir Giles shuffled uncomfortably. I…well, I suppose that I could well be. He lowered his voice. I think it’s the kiss that’s the really important thing.

Lily crossed her arms. Are we talking like a forehead kiss? Or the cheek?

Sir Giles began to grow red in the face. Well, I was thinking her lips, I suppose.

Lily’s mouth dropped open. "Are you serious? The woman’s insensate. What if she doesn’t want to be kissed by you?"

"Not want to be kissed? Sir Giles gestured towards the unmoving girl. Are you suggesting this woman would rather be trapped in a death-like sleep for the rest of her life than be kissed by me?"

Ella had opened her hand mirror again and was adjusting her long hair. "I know I would."

It just doesn’t seem right, Lily protested. Anyone could come barging into this tower and…and…do all manner of unseemly things to this poor woman—

Sir Giles straightened. "It’s a kiss, Lily. For the purpose of saving the poor woman’s life."

Lily tapped her foot rapidly against the ground. Oh, so you’re saying it’s a pity kiss? You don’t find her at all attractive? You have no desire to kiss her whatsoever?

Well, I— Sir Giles fumbled for a moment, his mouth working without words. I didn’t actually say that. I just—

I suppose, continued Lily hotly, "that you’re just planning on kissing every beautiful girl in a sleep as deep as death that we come across? Is that your plan?"

I— Sir Giles turned bright red. He turned. Ella, help me out here.

Ella continued adjusting her curls. "Don’t drag me into this. I’m not kissing the tart."

No surprise, came a gravelly voice that seemed to come from everywhere at once. You could never be anyone’s true love, Ella.

Lily closed her eyes with a sigh. "Dirk, what in the Seven Kingdoms are you still doing up here? You’re supposed to go help Torval, remember?"

I go where I please, came the voice again. A shadow, just out of sight. A wraith that—

Oh please, Dirk, said Ella without looking up from her mirror. You’re right over there behind the dresser.

There was a long beat of silence.

A mocking laugh floated through the room. Am I? Am I indee—

Now you’re behind the couch, said Ella.

There was another beat of silence.

Sir Giles sighed. Come on, Dirk. Stop hiding.

Dirk practically exploded out from behind the couch. A bloodstained piece of cloth was jammed up his right nostril. That was a guess, admit it. You had no idea I was back there.

Ella snapped the mirror shut. Pearls, Dirk, I can tell where you are by your breath alone.

I hate to interrupt, Sir Giles said, but we have to save this poor girl. He glanced back at the stairwell. And soon, too. I am starting to think I made the wrong call about leaving Torval behind—

Fine, said Lily as she turned her back. Kiss the girl. See if I care. I hope the two of you fall in love and are desperately happy and that she bears you a whole breed of little brats that look exactly like you!

Sir Giles looked over in confusion at Ella and mouthed a silent question.

Ella threw back her head with an exasperated sigh. Am I really the only one here who isn’t hopelessly stupid?

Dirk leaned over the girl. She’s a real looker, for sure. Can I have a go at her?

What? Sir Giles stiffened. No…absolutely not. It…well, it wouldn’t be proper at all.

Why not? Dirk looked over at Sir Giles slyly. Who says you’re this girl’s true love? Maybe I am.

Ella laughed. You wish.

I have just as much chance as Sir Stuffy-Pants here, said Dirk. He gave a cocky grin. Besides, you know the girls all love the bad boys.

Sir Giles raised a hand. No, Dirk. I forbid you to touch that fair maiden.

Lily spun around. Her eyes gleamed with tears. Oh, why can’t we? Why don’t we all just take turns kissing her? She turned back around again, arms folded.

Dirk raised his eyebrows. Okay, I vote that Ella and Lily go first.

Ella shook her head. You are so sad, you know that?

A scream echoed up from the stairwell, followed by a large roar.

Sir Giles lifted his head. Oh, right, he said uncomfortably. Torval.

Ella waved a dismissive hand. I’m sure he’s fine.

Well, tell you what, said Lily as she grabbed her staff. "How about you all take turns making out with this poor defenseless girl here and I’ll go help Torval. She started for the stairs. It’s better than being in here with you cretins."

Sir Giles waved both arms. That’s enough, everyone!

Lily paused. Dirk and Ella both looked at the knight.

Now, said Sir Giles with a cough, I’m going to kiss the girl.

Did you want us to break out into spontaneous song and dance for you? Ella asked sweetly.

Sir Giles ignored her. He crossed over to the unconscious girl, hesitated for a moment, then bent over and kissed her on the lips.

The room was silent.

Sir Giles stood back up. He watched the girl’s face carefully.

She didn’t move. Her eyes stayed closed.

Lily turned her head away.

Ella gave a deep sigh. Well…this is awkward.

Sir Giles touched his lips self-consciously. I—hmm. Perhaps it needs…I mean maybe I have to—

My turn! Dirk dove in and planted his mouth on top of the girl’s.

Pearls of Talrilla, Dirk, Ella squealed. "Get off the poor woman!" She slapped him hard on the back of the head.

Ow! Dirk pulled away, rubbing the back of his head. What the blink is wrong with you? I should get a chance too.

Oh, sure, Lily shot over her shoulder. Let’s sell tickets, shall we?

Now that’s enough, Dirk, said Sir Giles as he pointed a finger at the rogue. You can’t— He stopped mid-sentence, staring down at the unconscious woman. Wasn’t—wasn’t she wearing some kind of crown just a moment ago?

Ella glanced down. "I believe the proper word is tiara. And yes."

Sir Giles looked around. Well…where did it go?

Everyone looked over at Dirk.

Oh, sure, Dirk said angrily. "Go ahead and blame me. I’m a thief, so I must have taken the woman’s jewelry, right?"

Dirk, said Sir Giles sternly, the tiara is sticking out of your vest pocket.

Dirk glanced down at the glinting gold. Dragon’s fire, he mumbled.

Put it back, Dirk, said Sir Giles loudly.

Oh, come on. Dirk stared down at the woman. "It’s not like she needs it or anything. And we’re not exactly getting paid for this little expedition of yours."

You know, said Ella thoughtfully as she raised the woman’s arm in the air, "this is a nice bracelet. I think those are real sapphires."

We are not robbing a defenseless woman! Sir Giles cried.

It’s not robbing, said Dirk brusquely. It’s…property reallocation.

Lily spun around again. "Rob her or kiss her, what’s the difference? Should we go get Torval and see if he wants to kiss the girl too?"

Sir Giles turned a deeper shade of red. Now see here—

This whole thing seem a bit suspicious if you ask me, anyways, said Dirk with a furtive glance around the room. I mean, how did this girl get here?

Sir Giles gave an exasperated sigh. I…don’t know. I imagine some witch or sorcerer cast a spell on her and—

But why? Dirk looked around the room with a frown. Seems to be a lot of trouble to go to. Why not just kill her and be done with it?

Ella held out her hand. The sapphire bracelet dangled around her wrist. What do you think, Lily? Does it go with my armor?

Ella! said Sir Giles, shocked. What would the goddess you serve have to say about that?

Ella searched the ceiling for a moment. I don’t honestly know. I think I skipped that day at the temple.

That a girl, said Dirk. Come on, let’s get her rings.

"That’s it, said Sir Giles furiously. He pointed at the stairs leading down. Everyone out. Now."

Oh, this isn’t about that silly old Torval, is it? said Ella as she adjusted the bracelet on her wrist. I’m sure he’s dead by now.

I won’t have us profaning this place and this poor woman any longer, said Sir Giles hotly. Now everyone out.

"You didn’t seem so concerned about not profaning her earlier," Lily said as she stormed out of the room.

Ella started forward, then stopped. She leaned down and gave the unconscious girl a quick kiss.

Sir Giles stared at the Elf.

Ella waited an expectant second, then shrugged. Oh, well. Couldn’t hurt. She followed Lilly out of the room.

That is so hot, said Dirk under his breath.

That’s quite enough, said Sir Giles. Now put that tiara back.

What? Dirk pointed towards the stairs. Ella got to keep the bracelet!

She has been corrupted by your malign influence, no doubt, said Sir Giles. He hefted his sword. I mean it, Dirk.

This is so unfair, Dirk grumbled. He pulled out the glittering tiara and set it on the side of the raised dais. There? Happy?

A roar sounded from down below, followed by a hideous screeching noise.

By the Seven Lords, Sir Giles breathed. He dropped the torch, then reached for the kite shield on his back as he raced out of the room. I’m coming!

So am I! called out Dirk. He craned his neck to look down the stairs, then snatched the tiara again. Sorry, babe. Easy come, easy go. He started forward, then paused. He turned back towards the girl and gave her another kiss. One for the road, he said with a smile.

Dirk raced out of the room.

The sounds of shouts, an explosion, and the clanging of metal came from below, echoing up the stairwell. There was another scream, a roar, and someone begging for mercy. Finally there was a thud, and the sound of ragged cheering.

Then there was silence that dragged into several long minutes. The torch sputtered out, leaving the tower room in darkness once again.

The girl on the bed suddenly blinked her eyes. She sat up. The silken sheets spilled down onto the floor. She raised a hand to the place where the tiara had been on her head, gazing around the room as she did so.

Hello? she said.

Her voice echoed in the empty room.

She stared at her wrist for a moment, then put two fingers to her lips. She frowned and gave a deep sigh.

"Oh, Pixie Flickers," she said.

* * *

Ben Cassidy is the author of the fantasy action-adventure novels in The Chronicles of Zanthora, as well as the sword and planet Tales of the Two Rings. He lives in Vancouver, Washington, with his wife and three children, all of whom are deeply concerned about him. He is desperately attempting to make something significant of his life, to drown the bitter regrets of paths not taken, and to get his downstairs toilet to flush properly. He can be found lurking in dark alleyways on moonlit nights between the hours of 2 am and 4 am, as well as online at his facebook page, which you should not visit under any circumstances whatsoever.

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Ben-Cassidy/393172364133550?ref=hl

*

This Moment

J.L. Jarvis

You're not trying hard enough, Cam hissed.

I shouldn't have to try hard, answered Mac.

Barton Hillman is perfectly suitable, Cam said.

For someone.

Cam narrowed her eyes.

Look, either it’s there or it isn’t. Mac shrugged. Tonight it wasn’t.

Or the time before this, or the time before that. Do you realize how many times I’ve tried to find someone for you?

Do you realize how many times I’ve told you to stop?

Frustration lined Cam’s forehead. I don’t want you to be alone.

I’m not. Every day I’m surrounded by people who love me.

You’re a kindergarten teacher. Cam rolled her eyes. You know what I mean.

But do you know what I mean? Mac glared at her sister. If I’m meant to be with someone, it will happen. If not, I’ll be fine. Thank you. I love you. Now leave me alone. She grinned until Cam smiled back, and they hugged.

Hearing footsteps approach, Cam pulled the guests’ coats from the closet. Her husband, in a well-rehearsed dance, helped Mac shrug into her coat. He leaned back just in time to avoid her sable tresses as she whipped them from inside the collar. Cam handed a coat to their other guest.

While she slipped on her gloves, Mac watched the affable man layer one side of his cashmere scarf neatly over the other, fringed ends matching precisely. As he buttoned his coat, Mac was tempted to give the scarf a tug just to make it askew. Resisting, she offered her hand and her most charming smile. It was so nice to meet you, Martin.

Barton. The corner of his mouth curved, but he gave her gloved hand a cordial shake.

Barton. I’m so sorry. She winced as she felt a flush creep into her cheeks.

Their hands slipped apart awkwardly. He offered a patient smile and turned his attention to donning his gloves. Barton Hillman was an executive at the same corporation where her brother-in-law worked. He seemed smart enough. He was friendly, well bred, and impeccably groomed, as her sister had promised. Cam could have been describing a canine.

After a kiss on her brother-in-law’s cheek, Mac said, See you at Christmas.

It’s so early, Cam said. Are you sure that you want to go now?

Nodding, Mac said, Yes, I want to beat the weather. She peered at the sky, where the lightest flurry seemed to mock her. She fought back a frown as she willed the weather to support her excuse. The weatherman had predicted a wintery mix, turning to four to six inches of snow. Cam tossed her a wry look, but Mac looked right back. Lame as it was, she would own her excuse.

After being escorted to her car by the perfectly suitable Barton Hillman, Mac drove down the long, private road that led from the affluent Westchester County home.

Mac’s older sister had married her rich college boyfriend, according to plan. After losing their parents two years earlier in a car accident, Cam had set out with dogged determination to rebuild a life that was safe and secure. With both of her children in preschool, her life was in order, so she turned to Mac’s.

Mac pulled into a gas station off I-84. While waiting for the tank to fill, she watched the snow fall. The large flakes had begun nearly an hour earlier—just before she had started to cry—and had flown at her windshield and covered the ground in a thickening coating. That had really cut into a perfectly good cry. With an eye roll for Cam, who had reminded her yet again that she was single, Mac set thoughts of the evening aside. After following slushy grooves in I-684, she had made it around the sharp curve to I-84 and was minutes from home. Sweats and fuzzy socks waited for her by the fireplace with a good book. The best part was that it was only Friday. She had the rest of the weekend to enjoy being alone. All alone. Best part. Mac sighed.

Finished pumping, Mac slogged through the freezing slush to her car door and got in. She cursed as she fishtailed out of the station, and she proceeded more carefully down the highway.

Okay, she said to herself. Let’s just get home safely. A car passed with its brights on. Thanks! No problem. I didn’t need to see, anyway. She tightened her grip on the wheel. Sheesh, Mac, if you’re going to be one of those single ladies who talk to themselves, you should at least get a cat so it’ll look like you’re talking to someone.

Pulling off the highway, she headed down the winding road to her home. Snow weighed down the branches of evergreen trees. Mac had to remind herself that such beauty could also be deadly. She had stood on her deck on such nights and looked into the woods when the cracking of ice-covered limbs cut through the stillness.

Mind the road, she told herself as a tire caught a slick spot. Plows had not been through yet, and the snow was well over four inches and still falling.

Mac wondered how long ago it had started. The weather was always worse at her house than at her sister’s. She regretted leaving Cam’s before she remembered why she had made the decision. Cam had cornered her in the kitchen.

Is that fictional man you’re waiting for worth spending your life all alone?

I won’t be alone. I’ll have you. Mac grinned.

Cam did not. But you need your own life.

Those were the words that had cut her. They had always been a team, named Cameron and Mackenzie after their mother’s Scottish ancestors. Love for their ancestral home had been passed down through the generations. Their great-grandfather told his children, and they in turn told theirs, that in each generation, one child would long for the homeland. Mac had always known she was the one, and Cam had always made fun of her for being born in the wrong place and time.

*

Mac had once made the mistake of leaving her book on a table when her sister came over. The cover showed a muscular hunk wearing nothing but a kilt and clutching a small-waisted woman while the wind blew his hair and left hers untouched.

With a derisive wave toward the book, Cam said, Is that what you want for a husband?

Of course not! Mac dismissed her with a smirk. He can be wearing a shirt.

Cam rolled her eyes and exhaled, but she also gave up. Score one for Mac.

Mac smiled at the memory but grew somber when she recalled what else Cam had said in the kitchen.

You can’t live life alone.

And why not? Mac asked.

You’ll be lonely.

Not as lonely as I’d be if I married without love.

Cam’s face showed no inkling of understanding.

Mac said, I don’t know where to find it—or if I ever will. If I can’t, then I’ll live alone; if I can, then I’ll know it was meant to be.

Cam shook her head. It’s not like in the novels.

For you. Mac bit back those words. Maybe not. But I know what I want.

And what’s that?

I want someone whose arms feel like home.

And how will you ever know, when you won’t let a man within arm’s length?

*

Mac’s eyes misted with tears. She feared her sister was right. Even so, she would rather live alone than with Martin—Barton. He was nice, but if she wanted to live with someone nice, she’d go back to college and get a roommate. She didn’t want a roommate; she wanted a soul mate. That was the part that made Cam smirk. Well, Cam could do what she wanted. She’d made the life that she wanted, and she was happy.

And I’m doing what I want, Mac said to herself. Going home to my empty house.

She drove past the old stone chamber, one of dozens scattered about Putnam County, NY. A person might drive by one without noticing. They blended into the landscape. Some were deep in the woods; others sat like lonely relics beside country roads. Some thought they were built by ancient Celts, but no one knew for sure.

Up ahead, moonlight gave the chamber a magical glow. Beside it, something moved. Deer?

No, they’re too smart to be out in weather like this, unlike me.

Her headlights lit up a man clad in a kilt and black doublet. He stepped onto the road and held his arms up to signal her to stop.

What the hell? Mac said.

She slammed her foot on the brake pedal and went into a skid that spun her. The car moved too fast and bounced too much for her to see which way to steer—not that steering would change anything. With a slam, she stopped, and the airbag deployed. She had run into the side of the mountain. That would have alarmed her if the acrid smell from the airbag had not overpowered her senses. She waved her hands, trying to clear the cloud of dust while Sleigh Ride played on the stereo and her horn blared from the impact. She turned the stereo off and leaned her head back against the headrest to steady her breathing and her pounding heart.

Through the steam rising out of her car, she spied a large tree that had fallen across the road. If the kilted man had not stepped into the road to stop her, she would have plowed head-on into the tree. Kilted man? Mac looked about. He was gone.

Great. I’m hallucinating. That car horn is real, though. She needed to get out of the car. She struggled to get the keys out of the ignition, but they wouldn’t budge. The car was still in drive but crunched into a boulder that jutted out into the road. After a struggle with the gearshift, she got it into park and pulled out her keys. Her horn didn’t stop. Dizzying frustration roiled within her. I can’t think with that noise.

Her head swam. She pulled the door handle, but it was stuck. She had to get out of the car. She leaned her throbbing head back on the headrest and turned toward the passenger side. It was too close to the rocks. She would have to ease her way out through the driver’s side window. Mac’s hand trembled as she unbuckled her seatbelt. Her vision blurred and began to go dark. Don’t faint now.

The door creaked and then opened, and a deep male voice said, Come, lass. Strong arms pulled her from the car. Can you stand?

He set her on her feet, but her legs buckled. He scooped her up. Fuzzyheaded, Mac leaned on his chest. Her hand rested on his shoulder, and her fingers traced a fold of wool draped over his doublet.

Nice kilt, Scotty. But just so you know, real Scotsmen go shirtless. She smiled and laid her head on his shoulder.

*

She awoke to the smell of wood smoke and the feel of strong arms holding her. She tried to sit up, but the arms tightened.

In low, calming tones, he said, You’re safe. I’ll not harm you.

Not harm me? That brought her fully alert. Why would you even say that? Who are you? Where are we? She winced as pain shot through her temple.

You’ve bumped your head.

With what, a ten-pound hammer? She tenderly touched her head to assess the damage.

Fire lit the rough ceiling and walls of what looked like a cave—a cave barely large enough for the two of them. She was nestled over his lap. Mac’s situation did not look good. She was trapped in a cave with a large, rugged man. How she got there, she didn’t recall. He’d probably clubbed her over the head and dragged her there by her hair. But where was there? Past the fire, rough-hewn stones framed the falling snow.

The stone chamber, she whispered.

I beg your pardon, lass?

Lass? And a Scottish brogue? That was cute.

Mac turned to look at him but quickly turned back, refusing to be