Marjorie’s gaze fell on me. “Just give him the jewelery.”
“I don’t have your jewelery. I swear,” I said, trying not to show the strain I was under. I walked back to her side.
Marjorie’s dark eyebrows rose. “But downstairs. The ring?”
Velte’s eyes perked up.
“It’s mine. I know you don’t understand this, but it came with me through time.”
“Speaking of time—it's up,” he said, stalking across the room.
I cringed as he hammered the hilt of the knife across Marjorie’s temple.
She hit the floor with a thud.
“Marjorie!” I screamed. “No!” Hatred burned in my throat like unshed tears.
“My baby,” she moaned.
I dropped to her side. Velte had resumed his search, crashing through the wardrobe and pulling everything out.
“It’s all right,” she whispered. She was focused on something. Her hand had landed beside her face and I watched as she stretched forward as if reaching out to touch something under the bed. She pressed her index finger against her lips and closed her eyes. I scrambled to feel for her pulse but there was nothing. I followed her gaze—where she’d been looking—and quickly realized the last thing Marjorie had seen before drifting into unconsciousness.
Gigi, wild eyed with silent tears that streaked down her face as she hid beneath the bed. So this was what she had tried to tell me on her death bed in the hospital. She had taken and hidden the jewels. But it couldn’t end like this. I wouldn’t let him have Gigi, too. I needed to get him out of here and away from her until I could find where she had put them.
I smiled at her reassuringly and jumped to my feet.
Another spasm of rage contorted Velte’s features. “Don’t move!” he roared, raising the knife again. “Drop that shard of glass and give me those jewels, or by God I will kill everyone you love, one by one!”
“I only just got here.” I tried to keep my voice steady, but it trembled. “Give me time. I’ll find them.” My teary eyes searched his face for compassion but found none.
“You would do anything to keep them from me.”
“No. I’ll get them for you.” I set down the glass as an excuse to position myself closer to the door, swallowing against the burning in my throat.
Velte sounded as if he was smiling. “So you do know where they are.”
“Yes. Put the knife down and I’ll go get them.”
He didn’t move, but his eyes drifted toward my pocket where my hand rested,
“Look, I only have one of the pieces on me. I have to get the others.” I lifted the ring out and his eyes lit up.
I could see his calculating mind working overtime.
“Give me the ring now while you go get the others!” He stepped toward me but I turned and bolted, seizing the opportunity to draw him out of the room. I planned to give him the jewel, but I needed to get him away from Gigi in case it didn’t work. It was easier to bargain when he didn’t have anything or anyone over my head.
I streaked down the hallway toward the grand staircase, my feet thudding against the carpet runner. On the third step down, a sound—a high keening—from behind caught my attention. I don’t know why I looked back when it was most likely just Velte hot on my heels. But I did and my heart froze at the sight of the strawberry-blonde curls. I bit back a cry. Velte would kill her too.
Her face was red and tear-streaked. Gigi had come out of the room behind him. I had to fight the nausea that climbed up my throat.
Over the mad drumming of my heart I heard Velte’s ragged breathing. I wanted to call out to Gigi to get away, but he was so focused on me, he didn’t know she was there… yet.
Scared out of my wits, I scrambled back up the steps toward him, sweeping the area for options, a weapon. There was a table out of reach, with roses in a vase. The heavy crystal would be good for beaning him, if I could just get there.
Gigi moved behind the grandfather clock that stood in the hall.
My heart leapt as I focused on the object wrapped tight within her arms: the carved elephant box. We could end this. Gigi and Zafira would live.
I opened my mouth to call to her.
He’s coming too fast, I realized in horror. Just as he reached me, he tripped over the rug at the top of the stairs. I held my hand out to give him the ring, but he’d already made contact with my chest, knocking me off balance. Painstakingly, my brain tried to communicate the message to grab on to something, to save myself.
But I was unable. I envisioned myself as a paper plane awaiting a frightful crash. Arms flailing, my stomach found a place in my throat and I hit the bottom stair with a thud.
“Be sosa der hamin…” I started to whisper as the room darkened around me, but it was too late. The cool metal of the ring bit into my hand, reminding me of its unwanted presence. My eyes felt so heavy I could barely see the landing above but I glanced up, praying that Gigi had remained out of sight.
EIGHTEEN
T he sound of the ring clinking off the floor brought me back to present day. Cullen’s family was slowly coming into focus. They were all staring at me. That’s right, to them, Cullen had just proposed. They were waiting for me to say something. The jewel was still giving off its faint hum, only audible to me, and my head was spinning from the time travel.
“If ye don’t like it, we can get ye somethin’ else,” Cullen piped up, slowly rising from his bended knee. I stared at the ring as he picked it back up from the floor and placed it on my finger. I braced myself for another trip, but thankfully nothing happened. The ring was the same and yet there were subtle differences, which stood to reason. Since I’d changed history, this ring had been made or altered by someone else. I blinked hard, and willed myself to focus.
“I can’t wait to marry you,” I whispered. “I just need to sit down. I’m feeling faint.”
“Ye hear that? She said yes!” Da boomed from his place at the head of the table.
“Thank the Lord,” one of his aunts whispered.
“She’s just a little overexcited. Get her some water,” Lucille instructed from across the table as Cullen lowered me into my chair.
He leaned forward and gave me a quick kiss on the neck as he squeezed my hand. “Are ye sure ye want to marry me, Aeval?”
“With every fibre of my being,” I whispered back, but of course there was that little feeling nagging inside me. Not that I didn’t want to marry Cullen but how had this ring gone from my family to Cullen’s family? I pushed the thought aside.
“May the cat eat you and the devil eat the cat.”
“Slainte.”
There was someone prowling around the house, and even asleep I heard it: creaking in the kitchen, then up the stairs and in the office. It wasn’t Cullen. He was lying next to me with his arm looped around my waist. I needed to wake up but couldn’t quite push past the layers of sleep to the surface. There was the noise again. This time it was footsteps back down the stairs. I forced my eyes open, ears finely attuned, but now there was nothing. The night was still, and the only noise was Cullen’s soft breathing.
Through the slit in the drapes, a gloomy hint of light slithered in, offering a dismal glow. The room flashed and then quickly returned to its darkness. There was nobody in the room except the two of us. I slowly extricated myself from the blanket and sheets and dressed, quick and quiet, careful not to wake Cullen.
I was soon alone in the kitchen, where only my cat, Daphne, who’d made the move to Ireland with me, sat scratching to get out the door. Deciding to give up my mad search for who-knows-what, I opted to go back to sleep and walked silently up the stairs until I reached the warmth of my spot in bed. A musky scent, laced with sandalwood, invaded my senses. The smell soothed, and I snuggled deeper into the cozy heat source. My movements stirred him, even in his sleep; he shifted, inching closer, gently moving my hair aside.
“Keep ‘er up, my little Aeval, and you’ll be after gettin’ more than a snuggle.”
/>
His voice was drowsy and dripped with brogue, vibrating up my neck like a cat's purr. Deep inside, heat coiled in my belly and spread between my legs, making me shudder.
For a moment I simply lay there, listening to the rain. My phone pinged on the nightstand. Nice as it was to be back in his arms, I reached for the phone.
It was four a.m. He would leave me soon for the airport. I dreaded the thought. We’d only just reunited, at least in my world. My finger hovered over the photos icon before I finally clicked and pulled up an image of my great-grandmother, Gigi. God only knew how much I missed her.
History was changed. It was possible—but not as I’d hoped. I’d only sped up death. I bit my lip, chastising myself. It was vital to push these thoughts aside, but the time travel had stirred up all the raw emotions, the guilt, the fear. I faced down that demon once again and it still wasn’t over. Nick was still out there.
At least some things had changed for the better. Instead of the orphanage, Gigi had lived a good life with her aunt, traveling abroad and finally settling back in Canada after the Second World War.
“Sophia?” Cullen’s insistent voice broke through.
“I’m sorry…what?” I asked automatically.
“I said, a hen is heavy when carried far.” He took the phone from my hand. “Ye’re after starin’ at your great-grandmother’s picture again.”
I pushed away the thought of Gigi and the Delhi Sapphire.
“I wish I’d had the chance to meet her.”
I smiled. “She was great.”
“I can tell,” he said softly.
“And she would have loved you, a fellow ginger. She would have melted on the spot for your brogue.”
I pulled the blanket up higher and my black cat, Daphne, suddenly appeared, almost as if she understood what we were talking about. I looked back at Cullen. “Are you going to comfort me by telling me that she lived a full life?”
“No, Aeval, I would never patronize ye like that. Cancer took her much too soon. Ye know that.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. She did have cancer, although I personally felt it was the shock of hearing my story that put her in the hospital. A fact I shared with no one.
Which reminded me that I still wasn’t being honest, still hadn't told Cullen about my curse or my trip into 1857 and now I was keeping one more secret. The real reason I was thrown back into my grief for Gigi—that I’d just been with her.
“Would it be easier to deal with this grief if ye were still in Canada? Not that I’m lettin’ ye go, but we could visit more.”
“I do miss the lake house sometimes. Gigi loved living there, loved the water, the birds, the woods. I loved it too. But she’s not there anymore...and an empty log house, as beautiful as it was, would only remind me of that...”
Van Morrison’s tender flinty voice crooned from Cullen’s phone. He’d set the alarm. And now it was too late. He had to jet off to London. I would just have to wait a couple of days.
“It’s nothing. I just had another nightmare about what happened to Gigi’s sister,” I explained, telling another half-truth.
“Did they ever catch him—the man who killed her?”
I thought of Gigi dying of cancer. Then I thought about the murder of her mother and father and squeezed my eyes against the image of Eugene bleeding on his bedroom floor. I shook off the uneasy sensation that always accompanied recalling the snippets of my time traveling ripples. It was the ‘butterfly effect,’ I knew, and it was bound to happen, but what I needed to focus on now were logical facts. I owned the Delhi Sapphire, and Nick would be coming for it.
“Do you want to talk about this?”
“No,” I said, arching my back in hopes of forgetting.
He pushed back, igniting the immediate interest of the growing bulge that now pulsed against me. “So much extra fabric in the way.” He slipped his hands up my night shirt, easing away my tension. Then he stopped, and peeked beneath the covers. “Is that my football jersey?”
I laughed. “It was on the floor next to the bed, so I threw it on.”
“Ahh, well now, the boys in green never looked so good, but how ‘bout we put that back where it belongs?”
“Would love to,” I said, getting up and looking back at him.
He was in the massive carved four poster bed, hands laced behind his head, looking all bronzed against the stark white sheets.
I slipped his shirt over my head and let it slide from my hands to the floor. “Is that better?”
He nodded. “Much.”
“Unfortunately,” I whispered, “it’s getting late and you probably need to have a shower before you catch your flight.”
He flicked a glance at his watch, barely taking his eyes off me. “Bollix. I do. Next time, then, love.”
“What?” I said and folded my hands across my chest. “I’ll just go jump in the shower, then.”
He grinned, an irresistible glint in his eye. “Oh, will ye now?” He leaped up and pressed me against the dresser.
It was really the perfect height to lean back against as he moved his lips to my neck, then face.
“I missed you!” I said.
“Missed me?” Cullen questioned.
“I mean… I will miss you.”
He cupped my face in his hands and pulled my mouth to his. He was wonderful. He was all I wanted. All I had to do was be honest with him, trust in him that he could handle the truth.
NINETEEN
“ Sophia.”
I glanced behind me, positive someone had called my name, but no one was there. Squinting my eyes, I stuck my hand in my bag and traded my umbrella for shades. The rain had passed and shards of sunlight were multiplying through the clouds by the moment. This place was funny like that, but that’s what made it so green. The air, the grass, even the wood and stone of the buildings seemed alive.
Leslie was staying for Cullen’s cousin’s bridal shower and I was so excited to spend more time with her that I’d forgotten one of my bags by the door at home. Unfortunately, it was the one that had my deodorant and lipstick, and some things you just couldn’t borrow, so I’d decided last minute to duck out. The pharmacy on Merrion Road was a fourteen-minute walk from Cullen’s parents' home in Ballsbridge, but I’d been gone almost twenty minutes now and the limo had most likely arrived.
The shower was being held at some fancy restaurant downtown to accommodate Cullen’s paternal grandmother. And Leslie was meeting me there.
Halfway down the block, footsteps sounded behind me. I turned and froze in mid-step.
“Nick!” My heart slammed into my chest. “What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you. I spotted you leaving the store, but I guess you didn’t hear me.”
His shirt was wrinkled and stained and his hair was sticking up on one side. Not his usual look.
“But what are you doing in Ireland?”
“Sophia.” He reached out to touch me.
Stepping back, I intentionally put some distance between us. “I told you to leave me alone. How did you find me?”
His face grew dark. “So you ran away from me. And here I thought you just shacked up with that limey bastard from the hospital so you could cheat on me.”
My temper flared. “Cheat on you…oh for heaven’s sake. Do we really need to go over this again? Are you that thick? We’re over and you’re the one who did all the cheating. Not to mention you tried to rape me and you pushed me off a damn cliff.”
“I told you that was an accident.”
“Right,” I mumbled, backing farther away.
“I—I just want to talk.” He stepped closer.
“No. I’ve moved on and, from what I hear, you have too.” I turned around and headed away from him.
“What do you mean? You are with that Irish asshole, aren’t you?”
I rounded on him, shaking. “Yes! I’m living with Cullen.” He was away on a business trip right now but I wasn’t about to inform Nick of that. “Is that wh
at you need to hear?” I snarled, and to my horror, I raised a shaking hand and slapped him.
He hadn’t expected the assault, but his fingers wrapped around my wrist with a powerful grip that threatened to crack bone. His cheek reddened with the imprint of my hand.
Trying to regain my composure, I took a deep breath and worked to free my wrist.
“I’m marrying a good man who is faithful and respects my choices and doesn’t push me off cliffs, accidentally or otherwise.”
“You’re getting married?” he said incredulously and then made several incoherent sounds.
His face was losing color by the second. He looked remorseful and I caught myself almost feeling sorry for him.
“We had some good times, didn’t we, babe?”
My pulse raced as I continued to try to free my wrist. He was holding me too near. “Please don’t call me that and for heaven’s sake, will you let me go?”
He let go as if he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding me so tight. He looked pathetic.
“Didn’t we?”
His eyes were on me so intently. Nodding my head, I swallowed. “Yes, briefly, before you turned into an asshole.”
“Remember when we met on the Promenade.”
I thought back to the street in Nice—all shaded by palms and lit with lamps. It had taken two years of scrimping and saving just to experience it.
His lips trembled and I thought he might cry. No—stop feeling sorry for him. He’s a master manipulator.
“You looked so cute rollerblading in your little white dress.”
“I’m sorry, but I really have to go. I have somewhere to be. “
He reached into his pocket and took out a little square matchbook which he held out to me.
“Nick, what is this?” I said, taking it from him.
“It’s from the place I’m staying. My flat number and cell are written on the other side.
Cruel Fortunes Omnibus: Volumes One to Four Page 32
