He nodded, continuing to read.
Meredith stopped by her duffle bag and pulled out the cashmere throw she’d brought with her. She folded the blanket in half and slid it around her shoulders, using it like a shawl. Once out of the cabin, she paused to calm herself, and to take in the grandeur surrounding her. Charles had been correct, the temperature did drop quickly in the mountains, and the air was now crisp.
The infinite Montana sky had begun to darken, and only the western horizon held on to the last vestiges of the day, a slightly lighter shade of crimson-streaked cerulean. The half-moon, coupled with a few stars making their early evening debut would provide her with enough light to pick her way safely to the mine.
She stepped off the narrow porch and onto the faint path that would lead her to Daniel. At the top of the hill, she caught sight of him, a dark silhouette against the backdrop of the gathering nightfall A thrill shot through her. They were alive together in the same time and in the same place. She could hardly absorb the fact that she’d managed to arrive when and where she’d intended.
Daniel stood perfectly still as he peered up at the sky, and she could only imagine what was going through his mind. He hadn’t gone to that spot because he wanted company, and he might not welcome her presence. Her sudden appearance, the letter informing him of his impending death, knowledge that he’d spent more than a century and a half as a ghost … he’d suffered a great shock. She knew him well enough to understand he needed time to process everything. Maybe it would be best to leave him to his privacy.
She was just about to turn around when he caught sight of her. Neither of them moved for several seconds, but then she started forward again. “I was worried about you,” she said as she reached him. “I know how difficult all of this must be to take in.”
Nodding, he stuffed his hands into his front pockets and went back to staring at the sky.
“You told me about the premonitions you sometimes experience when something is about to happen to someone you care about. Have you had any regarding you and Charles lately?”
“Aye, and you’ve no need to convince me, Miss MacCarthy. I know all of this is real. Though I only read the first few paragraphs, I … know.”
“I wish you’d call me Meredith. You always did before.” This elicited a strangled groan, and she reached into her pocket for the chocolates. “I brought you something.”
“Aye, and didn’t I just read a wee bit of the something you brought me,” he said, arching a brow. “Including the part about being robbed and having my throat slit two weeks hence?”
“Not the letter.” She held out her hand. “I have chocolates.”
He brightened. “Do you now? I believe we’ve a tarp here somewhere,” he said, looking around. “Ah, here it is.” Daniel strode to a wheelbarrow and took out a folded piece of what appeared to be canvas. “Come. Sit with me, Meredith.” He shook out the tarp and laid it on a grassy hillock. “Tell me everything from the very beginning.”
“Here.” Meredith handed him the chocolates as she joined him, marveling at his physicality, his living, breathing, masculine presence. Instead of the chill of death, Daniel radiated heat, and he smelled of the soap he’d used when he washed off the day’s grit and dust.
“What is this wrapping?” he asked, turning one of the squares over and over.
“It’s very thin aluminum foil, which will not become popular in this country until the twentieth century.”
“Further proof of the implausible,” he muttered. “Go on, lass,” he said as he popped a chocolate into his mouth.
“The story began when I came across an advertisement I found, calling for volunteers to act as tour guides in a haunted ghost town,” she began, omitting the word online, which would require an explanation. “I brought a copy with me, by the way.” As he savored the treats, she summarized their story, touching upon everything that had happened since she’d arrived in Garretsville. By the time she finished, the sun had set completely, and the moon had risen.
“Alpin, the fae man who helped us, planted a suggestion within you. One that would give you a sense of recognition when we met. That’s why you remember me, or at least you feel as if you do.”
“I believe I would have had the feeling of recognition even if he hadn’t planted the suggestion. I’ve no doubt I wanted to remember you, Meredith MacCarthy, and that’s a fact.” He turned a lopsided, heart-melting smile her way. “You and I helped Frederick Klein’s great-great-granddaughter uncover the fortune he’d buried?”
“We did.” She snorted. “After everything I’ve told you, that’s what stands out? How is it you’re accepting all of this so easily? You seem so … calm. More so than I am.”
“It’s too unbelievable not to be true, if that makes any sense.” He flashed her a wry look. “With my life hanging in the balance, what choice do I have?”
“I see what you mean.” Her stomach growled.
“Ah, lass, forgive me. You must be starving. Let’s return to the cabin. I hope there might be stew left for the two of us.” He stood and reached out to help her up.
Her throat constricted as his strong, callused hand wrapped around hers. “You’re so warm,” she murmured, tightening her grip as she pulled herself to standing. “And alive.”
“Thanks to you, and let us hope I’ll continue living for many years to come.”
“That’s the plan.” She expected him to let go of her once she was on her feet, but he didn’t. The wonderful sensation of her hand in his so overwhelmed her that she hardly dared to breathe lest she wake up to discover this was all a dream.
“So, in the distant future, you and
