She felt a tug on the long blue Victorian gown she was now wearing, and glanced down at a girl of perhaps five or six with a heavy basket in hand.
“Walnuts, miss? Sixteen a penny,” the girl said, lifting her basket for Beth to better see.
Noting her hopeful smile and her fingers stained brown from the walnuts, Beth felt around on her person, hoping she had a pocket or purse with coins. The child reminded her of her little sister, and she’d buy every last walnut if she could.
“Here, lass.”
Beth glanced around, her eyes widening when she saw Scotty beside her, dressed in a traditional plaid. As she watched, he handed several coins to the girl, but waved away the basket she then happily held up to him.
Scotty shook his head and said kindly, “The coins are fer you, lass. Keep yer walnuts.”
“Thank ye, m’laird. Thank ye.” The girl rushed off as if afraid he’d change his mind.
“That was kind,” Beth said softly, not at all surprised to find him here. Her dreams always included Scotty, and had since she’d met him a hundred and twenty-five years ago.
Turning, she let her gaze sweep around the stalls and milling people. This was where she’d been happiest in her life, at market with her mother and sisters.
“Saturday night market at Tottenham Court,” Scotty murmured, glancing around.
“You know it?” she asked with surprise.
“O’ course. I’ve had a home in London since the seventeenth century,” he murmured.
Beth frowned, unsure if that was true, or just something she’d dreamt up. She supposed it didn’t matter. Whether it was true or not, she liked that he knew this part of her life, if only in her dream.
“I loved the market,” Beth murmured, starting to walk along the stalls. “It was always noisy and exciting and colorful. It seemed to always have a fair-like feel to it.”
“Aye,” Scotty agreed, and then he caught her arm and drew her close as a sharp snap cut the air. But he relaxed when he realized it was just the percussion cap from some boys shooting at targets for nuts.
“Be in time! Be in time! Mr. Fredericks is about to sing the Knife Grinder!” a tall thin man boomed out beside her as she passed.
“I’d forgotten how noisy the market always was,” Scotty said with a wry smile, and Beth was again surprised he was speaking her own thoughts aloud. But then, what else would he say? This was her dream, after all.
“Mmm, strawberries,” Beth murmured suddenly as she spotted them in the next stall. Smiling at Scotty, she admitted, “I always loved strawberries. They were my favorite as a child.”
“But not anymore?” he asked.
Beth made a face. “Nowadays they pick them green and ship them to stores and they aren’t as sweet and juicy when you buy them. Unless you find them at a roadside stand or grow your own,” she said with a grimace. “Back then they were always red, ripe, sweet, and juicy.” She chuckled and added, “Of course they came when in season and were too expensive, so we never had them anyway.”
“Then how do ye ken ye loved them?” he asked with amusement.
“I used to follow Mr. Badham when he was carrying his strawberries to the stall in hopes one or two might tumble to the ground,” she explained.
“And did they?” he asked with a smile.
“Oh yes, once or twice,” Beth said with a nod. “And I’d snatch them up and pop them in my mouth quick as you please. They were delicious, even with the bits of dirt that sometimes got on them in the fall.”
Something flickered on his face, she wasn’t sure what, but then Scotty suddenly ushered her up to the strawberry stall and tossed a coin at Mr. Badham before taking a wicker quart of the ripe red berries. Turning to Beth, he plucked one out, examined it briefly and then nodded his satisfaction and held it up.
“Dirt-free,” he assured her solemnly. “Open yer mouth.”
Beth smiled uncertainly, not sure why she was blushing, but she could feel the heat in her cheeks. Flustered, she tried to take the small fruit from him rather than open her mouth, but he immediately moved the strawberry out of her range.
“Tuh uh uh,” he said, shaking his head. “Open.”
Beth bit her lip briefly, but then dutifully opened her mouth and watched him move the offering closer until she could bite into it. The berry was as plump and sweet and juicy as she recalled from those days, and Beth closed her eyes on a moan as she chewed and swallowed what she’d bitten off. But then her eyes popped open with surprise when Scotty suddenly licked her lower lip, taking away the bit of juice there.
“Delicious,” he agreed huskily, and then tossed the quart of berries aside, drew her into his arms and kissed her.
Startled, Beth didn’t move at first. This just wasn’t like her. Even in a dream she would never start anything in the middle of the market. Despite her history, she had a certain sense of propriety that her mother had drummed into her. Public displays of lust in the middle of the market did not seem proper, and there was no doubting the lust in that moment. While she might be still and docile under his attention, the kiss was ravaging, Scotty’s mouth working over hers, his tongue slipping out to thrust between her lips and stir her desires.
When his hands began to roam, Beth tried to protest, but it was difficult with his mouth covering hers. One of his hands held her head in place as he kissed her, while the other dropped to cup her behind through her gown and lift her a bit, even as it urged her forward until their bodies rubbed against each other.
Gasping, Beth managed to break their kiss and glance self-consciously around, only to blink in surprise when she saw that the market was gone. They were now in a large bedroom lit only by the flames that crackled in a fireplace in the wall next to them, and they stood beside a bed with drapes and silk sheets in forest green. They were alone.
That was all Beth really noticed. The moment she broke their kiss, Scotty had begun to nibble on her ear and neck, and her body responded by beginning to tremble.
Beth knew at once that this was going to be one of the knee-knockers. That was what she liked to call the dreams that felt so real she could actually taste the salt on his skin, and feel the heat of his body. Those were the rarer of the dreams she had about Scotty, but they were also the most powerful so that she woke afterward with her body sweaty, sated and still trembling from the pleasure her dream lover had given her.