"Where have you been?" Rick's voice barked as she came through the door.

Kate jumped and peered at him, wondering why she felt so guilty. "I was out working on my sketches. You knew that."

"Yeah, well...I finished writing over an hour ago. I thought you'd be home soon."

Kate slipped out of her sweater and hung it carefully on a coat tree near the door. "It was so beautiful out there. I guess I forgot how late it was getting." As she spoke, the image of Christian appeared in her mind, and her heart gave a jolt. When would she see him again?

Rick stood up. "You might as well put your sweater back on. It's time to go eat. And Kate?" He took her arm. "Let's get something straight. We're here because of me. I brought you along because you're my woman, and I need companionship in the evening after a long day of writing. It's my schedule that counts, not yours. From now on, I want you home at 4:30, understand?"

Kate stared at him. Had she heard him right? Was he giving her an order? Outrage rushed through her. She opened her mouth to tell him exactly what he could do with his order, when suddenly, he gave a disarming smile.

"I miss you when you're not around, babe. You're my weakness."

He bent his head and touched his lips to hers gently. Kate kissed him back. Here was the man she'd fallen in love with--the charming, sweet-natured Rick of a year ago. How long had it been since she'd seen this side of him?

She swallowed her protest and allowed him to lead her out of the cottage and up the path toward the manor. When they reached the bluff overlooking the beach, something made Kate look back, not toward their cottage, but the more remote one on down the beach. In the distance, she saw the dark form of a man. Something in his stance made her think he was watching them. A ripple of excitement zipped through her.

When would she see him again?

The next day Kate left the cottage early in the morning while Rick was still asleep. She left him a note saying she wanted to capture the early morning light for her first seascape. But as she walked the path into the forest above the beach, her mind wasn't on her paintings, but upon the mysterious poet who lived in the cottage up the beach. Would she see him today?

But the morning hours passed and he didn't appear. She'd set her easel in a copse of trees which afforded a distance view of the cornflower blue sea. It was a beautiful morning--pale blue skies with wisps of cottony clouds, a warm breeze carrying the hint of honeysuckle, birds singing contentedly in the trees above her.

She was engrossed in her work when suddenly, the birds stopped singing and the air grew still. An odd hush settled around her like a cloak, and the skin on the back of her neck prickled. Someone was watching her!

Slowly, she turned to her right where she felt--knew--he would be. But when she saw the tall, proud figure of the Highlander standing silently at the edge of the woods, she couldn't prevent herself from drawing in a sharp breath. This wasn't a dream; she was awake, and he was there, in the flesh, only a few feet away. His blue eyes pierced into her, dissecting her and caressing her at the same time.

Kate found her voice. "Who...who are you?"

His sensuous lips twitched. It was as if he found her discomfiture amusing. He took a deep breath and seemed about to speak, but his lips remained closed.

And then, a voice came from...somewhere. Somewhere in her brain.

Be patient, lass, and all will be revealed in good time.

Kate gasped, staring at him. Was she losing her mind, or was he really communicating with her telepathically? He gazed at her, a question in his eyes.

Do you understand?

Kate nodded slowly. He smiled, and then, like a stone thrown into a pool of clear water, his image wavered and disappeared. Kate took a step forward toward the spot where he'd stood.

"No! Wait! I don't understand!"

The breeze blew again, and the birdsong filled the air.

Kate settled down on the quilt and opened the picnic basket the manor house had packed for her. Too much food, as usual. She'd told them lunch would be for one, but they'd overestimated her appetite, packing two man-sized ham and cheese sandwiches on rye, a ripe peach, a banana and a half-dozen sweet biscuits along with the flask of hot tea.

Just as she took a bite of the sandwich, she heard a footfall behind her. "Hello. Am I interrupting your lunch?"

Her heart skipped a beat at the sound of his soft Scottish accent. She swallowed, and turned. Christian, dressed in black jeans and a black cotton shirt, stood a few feet away. If it weren't for his modern-day clothes, he was identical to the man in highland dress who'd stood in that very spot a few hours before.

"You're so much like him," Kate whispered.

He took a step toward her. "Am I?"

Kate shook her head. "I don't understand any of this. I especially don't understand why you answer as if you know what I'm talking about."

Christian paused at the edge of her quilt, gazing down at her. "May I join you?"

When she nodded, he dropped down next to her and casually reached a hand into the picnic basket for the other sandwich. "May I?"

"Sure."

They finished their sandwiches in silence. It should've felt uncomfortable--the silence. But it wasn't. Kate didn't understand that any more than she understood all the other strange things that were happening. She reached into the basket and pulled out the fruit. "Which one do you want?" she asked.

He took the banana and bit into it. He chewed thoughtfully and swallowed. His eyes met hers. "I can tell you everything you want to know...well, almost everything. But you're not ready yet."

"What do you mean?" Kate bit into the soft flesh of the peach. Its sweet juice dribbled down her chin.

His eyes moved to her mouth. With his index finger, he wiped the peach juice from her chin and slowly licked his finger, his gaze locked onto hers. A shiver of desire rippled through her body. Her senses swam as he continued to gaze at her with a curiously knowing expression. As if he could read her mind. As if he knew how much she wanted him. As if he felt the same desire--every bit as much. Yet, he didn't move toward her. Didn't touch her again. Almost as if he were afraid.

"You're not ready," he said softly, "...to believe."

"Do you ever feel that...you don't fit in?"

Kate gazed down at Christian. He was lying on a quilt she'd spread in the field of heather, his eyes closed, his body relaxed in the afternoon sunshine. "I'm not sure what you mean," she said in answer to his odd question.

He opened his eyes. Kate felt her pulse quicken at the impact of his intent expression. It was almost as if he could look inside her and read her thoughts. Did he guess that since she'd met him the afternoon before, she'd thought of nothing else but seeing him again?

"I don't know myself," he said. "Except that...sometimes, I feel like I'm living in the wrong time...like I don't belong here."

"I've never really thought about it," Kate said. "Of course, I've always had an interest in history. And I love reading historical novels. Is that what you mean?"

He shrugged and shook his head. "I don't know. It's just...my poetry for instance. It's not modern. I feel as if I were born several centuries too late. But I can't change! I don't want to."

"It would be a pity if you did," Kate said softly. She blushed at the surprised look he gave her. "I mean...I think you're very nice the way you are."

He gazed at her a long moment, and she thought--hoped desperately--that he would touch her. All afternoon, she'd been gazing at his thin sensuous lips and wondering what it would be like to feel them pressing against hers. She wanted to taste his lips, to trace their outline with the tip of her tongue, to press her body on top of his as he lay on his back, to feel his burgeoning erection in the palm of her hand...

But she knew all that, didn't she? Because wasn't it true that he had merged with the Highlander? That they were one and the same in her mind? And her dreams of him had been so realistic--so perfectly vivid.

But just when she thought Christian would finally touch her, he stood up and began to pace in the small clearing. "Kate, I have to ask you something. Why are you here with me this afternoon?"

Kate looked at him. He was gazing off toward the sea, his expression remote. But the sudden tension in his body didn't escape her notice. Her heart panged. What was it about this man? He seemed so different from other men she'd known...so alone, and curiously vulnerable. She tried to speak lightly, "I don't know...I like you. And I guess I'm a bit lonely."

He turned to her, and she was astonished to see the turbulent look in his blue eyes. "Is it possible you don't understand what's happening here?"

"What do you mean?" She stared up at him, and again, like the day she'd first met him, it happened. His image wavered in front of her, and she saw the Highlander. He blurred and danced in front of her eyes. Without warning, the day darkened as if the sun had been blotted out by a sudden storm cloud. A wave of faintness came over her.

"Kayla!"

Weightless, she felt herself slumping onto the quilt, and then she felt his warm arms gather her against his body. Dazed, she looked into Christian's anxious blue eyes.

"Are you all right, lass?"

Her gaze centered on his sensual mouth, and suddenly, she was overwhelmed with the need to press her lips against his. His eyes swept her face, and a fire ignited in the depths of his pupils. He dipped his head toward her, and his lips settled against hers. Her mouth opened, and she felt the tentative taste of his tongue. Just as his kiss deepened, the bell rang out from the manor house, and Kate pulled away, started.

"Oh, God! It's late. Rick will be waiting for me."

Reluctantly, Christian released her. Kate felt as if a cold wind had wrapped itself around her once his arms dropped away. Quickly, she gathered up her paints, the easel and the picnic basket, feeling his intent eyes upon her.

"Will you meet me again?" he asked as she turned to say goodbye.

She gazed at him--at the hopeful expression on his lean face and the way his dark hair tumbled Heathcliff-like onto his shoulders, and she knew she could no more stop breathing than refuse to meet him again.

"Tomorrow," she said softly. "I'll be here tomorrow."

Kate rushed into the cottage. "Sorry I'm late!" she said quickly. "I fell asleep." She waited for Rick's explosion.

He looked up from his typewriter, a distracted look in his brown eyes. "Oh, is it that time already?" Immediately, his gaze returned to the sheet of typing paper. "Just let me finish this scene, hon, and we'll go eat."

Kate released a sigh of relief. "No hurry." She went into the bathroom, her legs rubbery. She hadn't realized how wound up she'd been at the thought of being late. What had she thought would happen? Rick had never touched her in anger. Then why had she felt so sickly frightened as she'd rushed down to the beach, knowing she was late?

What was happening to her? Why was she here with one man and fantasizing about another one? Two other ones, if she counted the Highlander.

"You ready to go?" Rick called from the other room.

Kate looked at herself in the mirror. "Yeah. Just have to wash my hands." Her fingers pressed against her lips as she relived Christian's kiss. She could still feel the tingle of his tongue as it stroked the inner flesh of her mouth. Oh, God...she wanted him so badly.

"Kate?" Rick's voice was edged with impatience.

"Coming."

On the way to the manor house, Rick told her about how well his work had gone all day. She tried to listen and make encouraging remarks during the appropriate pauses, but her mind was distracted by thoughts of Christian. Already, though she'd just left him, she was anticipating seeing him the next day. Counting the hours.

They walked into the manor house dining room. Kate's step faltered. Christian sat at the dining room table, his eyes locked upon hers. Kate felt her face go crimson. Rick guided her into a seat directly opposite Christian. Kate kept her eyes carefully averted from his as she sat down and placed her napkin in her lap.

She had no reason to feel so guilty. She'd done nothing to betray Rick. Well, almost nothing. Yet, Kate knew that was a lie. She and Christian had barely touched physically, but their hearts and souls had made love more piercingly than bodies ever could.

And that was when she realized it. She didn't love Rick. Never had.

Throughout the long dinner, Kate felt Christian's gaze upon her, but she pointedly refused to look at him. How could Rick not notice his interest? The man at Christian's right hand side kept him in a nearly one-sided conversation to which the poet responded quietly and succintly. Kate ate silently while Rick discussed his novel with a professor-ish type on his left. She was relieved that he was being distracted.

But as they walked back to their cottage in the pale light of evening, Rick gave a snort and said, "Did you notice that black-haired guy across from you--the one with those odd blue eyes? A poet, he said! My God! What kind of idiot concentrates on poetry? As if there's money in that!"

"Some people don't care about money," Kate said softly.

"Yeah. Idiots don't. Geez, did you see the way he was dressed--all in black? Who does he think he is, Lord Byron or something? And I didn't like the way he looked at you. Like he was a starving dog and you were a big juicy steak. Stay away from him, Kate. You're too friendly with strangers, I've noticed. You might encourage the wrong guy some day."

Kate bit her lip. She was very much afraid that she'd already encouraged the wrong guy--and she was now living with him.