Falling Through Time: Mists of Fate - Book Four

by Nancy Scanlon

  Reilly was distantly silent on the short drive to Colin’s house, and then after plying her with food (during which Colin joked and Reilly remained silent), the two men stiffened and started some strange man-conversation using just their eyes. She watched as they somehow came to a decision, and, amused, watched them try to pretend like it didn’t happen.

  Colin had declared himself ready for bed and left pretty quickly. He wasn’t the best of liars, but Gwen wasn’t really up for a visit anyway, so she bid him goodnight.

  Then it was just her and Reilly.

  They looked at each other for a long minute before he asked, “Will you be all right if I leave for a bit?”

  She frowned. “I don’t need watching over, you know.”

  He didn’t respond verbally, but his lips hardened into a straight line and he gave her a jerky nod before leaving her sitting in the kitchen, alone with her mostly untouched plate of food.

  After she went up to the bedroom, she heard a small commotion from somewhere in the house. Already on the second floor, she decided to investigate, so, after changing into her pajamas, she checked Reilly’s room, but he wasn’t there. She went back downstairs; all was quiet there, so she headed through the magnificent kitchen toward the side stairway. She climbed up past the second floor, and up to the third, which held the library. Finding it empty, too, she figured the noise must’ve come from Colin’s bedroom, which was on the floor above the library.

  Instead of invading his privacy, she decided to linger with the books and sense of peace in that room.

  Her hand paused, by its own volition, on a thick, leather bound book. A shiver went through her, and she peered at the title: The O’Rourkes: A Complete History from AD 800 to AD 2000.

  She felt a strange, intense need to leaf through it, but her common sense prevailed again. She had no need to snoop through genealogy of a family that wasn’t her own; instead, she grabbed the title directly above it and plopped down in one of the exceedingly comfortable armchairs.

  If her gaze continually drifted back over to the genealogy book, that couldn’t be helped.

  She focused on the book in her hand—Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen—and took it as a sign. She was going to use exactly those virtues to not open that genealogy book, just like she didn’t go up to Colin’s bedroom. The poor man was probably sleeping, anyway.

  And who knows where Reilly had gone.

  Not that she was wondering about that, she reassured herself. She determinedly opened the book, which Ellie had been trying to get her to read for years, and soon became lost in the story of the Dashwood sisters.

  She hadn’t any idea how much time had passed when a loud bang shocked her. Her throat closed up, her ears began to ring, and a panic bloomed forcefully in her chest. Frozen to the chair, her body wouldn’t move, though her mind was screaming to get to safety.

  Another boom had her up and running toward the stairs, anxious to get out, get away. She ran bodily into a solid wall of muscle, and a scream lodged in her throat.

  Reilly, dressed in a tunic and léine, caught her as she fell, concern etching his face.

  “Gwendolyn? Why are you still up?”

  “Go! Out!” she choked, pushing him blindly.

  His expression turned to one of alarm. “Has something happened?”

  Her words came out in a strangled sob. They needed to move, to get out of there, before the next explosion hit.

  His arms came around her immediately, but she continued to fight him. Didn’t he hear it? “The blast,” she gasped. “Go, Ry, go!”

  He tightened his hold on her. “We’re safe, Gwen. I’ve got you.”

  The fight began to leave her, but her heart raced on. She tried to slow her breathing. “I can’t…”

  He gently held her away from him for a moment and studied her face. “I’ll never let anything happen to you.”

  She nodded quickly, drawing in deep breaths. “Okay. I know.”

  “The noise you heard was me. I accidentally slammed the door when I came in.”

  She nodded, accepting the explanation. “Okay.” She couldn’t seem to come up with much more than that.

  He studied her face for another moment, then gently pulled her against him. She clung to his chest, her head tucked protectively against his neck, and shook.

  “You’re safe here,” he murmured, giving her a small squeeze.

  She let the words settle her before releasing a shaky breath. “I know,” she whispered. “I’m okay.”

  But she didn’t let go.

  • • •

  After he finished his shower and finally climbed wearily into bed, he heard his bedroom door open on nearly silent hinges. He cracked his eyes just enough to gauge the time and the threat.

  The time was a simple thing. It’d been less than a half hour since he’d managed to get Gwen back to her room, so he estimated it to be about two thirty in the morning. As he and Colin agreed to meet in the lists at 7:00 a.m., he had plenty of time yet for sleep.

  The threat was rather less of a threat and more of a mystery. He watched as Gwen closed the door, then stealthily crept toward the bed. Her eyes were so round, her face drawn, and she had the look of a frightened child about her.

  He immediately held up the blanket, and she dove in next to him, curling her body around his in ways that made him think less-than-chaste thoughts.

  He always thought less-than-chaste thoughts about Gwen. Ensuring she never knew about those thoughts was how he got through them.

  A mess, for certain.

  “You okay?” he murmured.

  “Am now,” she whispered, then burrowed further into him.

  He nodded, understanding that she didn’t want to talk, and rubbed her back until her breaths were deep and even. He tucked her body closer to him, determined to give her the safety she suddenly craved, selfishly enjoying her even though she wasn’t his to enjoy.

  She’d never accepted help in any form from him. In fact, she made it a point not to require his help with anything. He figured it was their game—she would get herself into a situation, he would attempt a rescue, and she would breeze out of it without any aid. She challenged him.

  But this…He glanced down at the sleeping figure. Clad in a thin shirt and pajama pants, her hair stuck out every way ’til Sunday, and her sleep was fitful, making him readjust her slightly to keep his manhood intact. Her face was relaxed, though, giving her the appearance of a peaceful, if slightly crazed, woodland sprite.

  She started, and he resumed rubbing circles on her back. His normally effervescent Gwen had forced her smiles all day. By remaining silent, he didn’t feel the need to give her the same illusion Colin did that nothing was amiss, but he knew.

  He always knew when something was wrong with her. And this time, it was something big. He couldn't force her to face her demons; getting Gwen to talk when she had it in her mind not to was a Herculean task he could not complete that moment, so he merely tucked her closer to him and closed his eyes.

  • • •

  7:00 a.m. came fast, but Reilly slipped out of the warm bed, leaving Gwen to her slumber, and donned his workout gear—shorts, tee shirt, and a sword. He met Colin outside, the uncharacteristically cool air slapping him fully awake.

  “This is so much better than the humidity we were training in last week,” Colin muttered, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

  Reilly bounced on the balls of his feet. “Aye. Let’s make the most of it.”

  “How are you so bushy-tailed this morning?” Colin asked, stifling a yawn. “I swear you went to bed later than I did.”

  “Sometimes a person is blessed with many admirable qualities. I am one of those people. Are we done with morning pleasantries yet?”

  Colin rolled his eyes, but readied himself. With the first clash of steel, he remarked, “So it has nothing to do with the woman asleep upstairs?”

  Reilly shouldered his blade. “You cannot believe that I’m a spritely type in the wee hours?
”

  Colin snorted. “Since when is any time after sunrise ‘the wee hours’ to you?”

  “Fair point.”

  “What was going on with her last night?”

  “Exactly what you’d expect,” Reilly said grimly. He flicked his wrist and his sword swiped toward Colin.

  “Ellie’s going to ask how she is,” Colin replied thoughtfully, jumping backward from the tip of Reilly’s sword as it sliced through the air. His own blade clashed with Reilly’s, and he shook off the reverberations in his arm after quickly switching hands. “I’ve no idea what to tell her.”

  “Tell her that she’s safe now. ’Tis the truth.”

  “All right. Next question: Do you have any indications that we might be sent somewhere before the wedding?”

  Reilly dropped his sword point-down in the dirt. “I haven’t had anything that would say otherwise. But you are free from traveling until well after the wedding. I’ve lads aplenty who will help if necessary.”

  “Claire trusts very few,” Colin noted. “If she decides to get herself into trouble, you should consider bringing James.”

  Reilly agreed silently. Claire MacWilliam, daughter of Brianagh O’Rourke and Nioclas MacWilliam, was a troublesome, clever lass who was forever getting herself into scrapes. Reilly wondered if she did so simply to have a visit with him; he did always bring her marvels from the future. The lass had a sweet tooth that seemed only satiated by Nutella.

  “I’ll take it into consideration. And do let me know when our gossip session is over. I’ve become bored with your speech and look forward to the moment you decide to attempt to best me—” Reilly grunted as Colin’s sword caught his sleeve, then glanced down. No blood. He swung again, forcing Colin backward. A particularly satisfying clash between the swords produced sparks, and Reilly couldn’t help the smile that curved his lips.

  He loved hacking at worthy swordsmen. Colin was at the top of that list.

  Colin lowered his sword again, and Reilly’s smile disappeared. “By the saints, O’Rourke, if you’ve no stomach for training—”

  His words died a swift death when Colin jerked his head toward Gwen, who stood against the house, dressed in her pajamas, her arms wrapped around herself, and her gaze unfocused.

  “I think,” Colin murmured as he quickly sheathed his weapon, “that she has suffered a shock. That’s the look of a woman who’s seen violent death up close.”

  Reilly agreed; he’d seen it on the faces of many souls before her, and suspected he would see it on the faces of many more. But none of those had him tied in knots quite like she did.

  He sheathed his sword and reached her in two strides. “Gwen, are you unwell?”

  She blinked up at him, taking a moment longer than necessary to reply. “Um…no, I’m okay. I heard your swords, and I didn’t know what they were. I’m okay now though.”

  Meaning you weren’t okay when you first heard them, he thought. Gwen wasn’t unused to the sounds of swords; she’d been to his sword fighting school many times, and had had her own trip to the past where she saw them in action.

  Gently, he drew her to his side and led her back inside. “Care you for some breakfast? I can make something, or Colin would be glad for a run to the bakery.”

  “You bet,” Colin said from behind them. “In fact, I’ve been looking for an excuse to check out a new place that opened up near Quincy Market. I’ll pop over there and grab some stuff after I change.”

  Gwen was focusing on Reilly’s shirt. “Your shirt has a tear in it.”

  He kept his tone light. “’Twas headed for the rag pile anyway. Colin merely sped the process.”

  She nodded, slowly coming back into herself. He watched as her eyes refocused and her face cleared.

  Colin disappeared, and Reilly turned Gwen toward him. “What’s going on, Gwendolyn?”

  She swallowed, not meeting his gaze, and replied lamely, “Jet lag.”

  “Look at me,” he commanded, and was gratified when she immediately raised her forest green eyes to his. They were, as he suspected, haunted, despite her expressionless features. “I know what happened, Gwendolyn. Do you wish to talk?”

  She shook her head—a short, sharp movement. “No. I really don’t.”

  “Then tell me what you need.”

  She reached up and placed her hands on his cheeks. His breath hitched without his consent. She slowly pulled his head down to hers until they were eye level, then leaned forward and closed her eyes. Gently, she placed a soft kiss on his cheek, and let out a shuddering breath.

  For an interminable moment, Reilly held onto his rapidly fraying self-control by dredging up every fiber of willpower in his being. Just as he almost gave into his need to cover her mouth with his, she whispered, “I need to go home.”

  Chapter Two

  Reilly blew the sawdust off his latest creation, then gave it the once-over.

  Almost perfect.

  The headboard for the bedroom was the final piece in a full set he’d created. The rich mahogany wood was a pleasure to work with, and the four-poster bed, chest, armoire, and armchair were complete. The final piece, this headboard, had been the trickiest. He’d been working on it for months, taking his time to get it just right to pull all the pieces together; the intricate Celtic knot work was carved into almost every available surface on the board.

  It was his best work to date.

  Woodworking soothed his weary soul. As the leader of all the O’Rourke Protectors, a select group of time travelers tasked with protecting the O’Rourke family line and the secrets the family held, Reilly realized early on in his life that creating something from nature was his best way to remain connected to his roots.

  His mobile rang, shattering the peaceful silence, and he frowned when he read the screen. He contemplated for a moment, then hit answer.

  He didn’t bother with niceties. “A bit busy here.”

  Gwen laughed, the sound, as ever, the best balm for his soul—though the sound this time was definitely forced. “Then why did you pick up?”

  Because I will always answer your call, he thought. But he said, “Hit the wrong button. Damn phone’s too small for my hand.”

  “Oh.”

  He flinched. Too harsh. The entire flight back home, he argued with himself; for years, he hadn’t allowed himself to think of Gwen as anything but a friend. It had taken more restraint than he cared to admit, but he’d done it. He’d spent countless hours cultivating her belief that they were nothing more than that.

  But in that moment before she told him she wanted to leave, he almost gave in.

  Almost.

  But now…now he could finally claim success. Gwen was getting married. She’d promised herself, body and soul, to another man.

  No matter that his world just about dropped from under his feet when that prickly jackass staked a claim on her. Gwen was fully off-limits, just the way she needed to be.

  And wasn’t that for the best? After she’d seen him—all of him, and all that he was—she’d turned tail the first chance she got. He hadn’t heard from her in months prior to picking her up at the airport. The last time they spoke was when she was leaving Dublin after her foray into the past with Ellie. Gwen claimed she was heading off on a series of humanitarian projects, bid him adieu just outside of the airport, then flew mostly out of his life.

  And now she was back.

  Over their years of knowing each other, and more than ten years of close friendship, Reilly had long ago given up on lecturing Gwen about her need to save the world. As such, he was usually the only one who ever knew exactly where she was…though there were many times when he almost wished he didn’t. He knew where her last project was because she’d video called him. It hadn’t taken much on his end to track her IP address.

  If he found it strange that she looked lonely while on an extended trip with her boyfriend—fiancé, he corrected himself with a growl—he didn’t dare question it.

  She cleared her throat. “Wel
l, I won’t take up too much of your time. I just wanted to say thank you for, um, everything. It was really kind of you. You left in kind of a hurry.”

  “I had to catch a commercial flight.” He forcibly unclenched his jaw and resolved to bring them back to even footing. He had to; their friendship was special. Even if she hadn’t told him about her engagement prior to the airport, he couldn’t hold it against her, as he certainly kept secrets of his own. And his reaction to her wasn’t her fault, either. “I’ll always be there to get you, Gwendolyn. Are you looking forward to the gala?”

  Her voice had a smile in it. “Not particularly. It’s for my cousin, Rob Bouchement. He’s exploring the presidency.”

  “Sounds like it’ll be riveting.”

  She snickered. “Oh, I’m sure. I can’t wait, obviously.”

  “You’ll have to tell everyone about your safari.”

  “I’m sure I’ll tell them how amazing it was.”

  Reilly began to clean up his sanding supplies. “More amazing than the Venezuelan jungle, I would imagine.”

  “I also would imagine.”

  Reilly smiled, but only because she couldn’t see him. Gwen tested his patience on every level; she was a completely unmanageable kind of woman who was on a mission to prove that she was more than her trust fund.

  Of course, she would never admit that aloud, and Reilly would never dream of pointing it out to her. Doing so would guarantee him a blistering setdown, and he’d had enough of those from his mother and sister to last many lifetimes.

  “Well, over here in Ireland, we’ve got this crazy event happening soon.”

  She made a humming sound. “You don’t say. Would it be a wedding between my bestie and your bestie?”

  Reilly dumped his tools into the shiny silver tool chest and leaned against it, the phone held against his ear. “Did you just say bestie?”

  “I did!”

  “I beg you, never do that again. My tux fitting is in a couple of weeks.”

  She giggled. “You men have it so easy. I’ve got my dress fitting in a couple of weeks too, so I’ll be heading out that way soon. Then we have the hen party and all that.”