Falling Through Time: Mists of Fate - Book Four

by Nancy Scanlon

  Reilly’s mouth dropped open. Nay.

  “This guy Finn, he was different for the time. He did the opposite of what normally happened when two people wed back then, because—and feel free to stop me at any time if you care to join in with the details, Ry—he left his own clan to join his wife’s. Joining the O’Malley clan was a huge thing, and eventually earning the trust of the laird certainly seems like it was a testament to Finn’s ethics.”

  “How did you…?” Reilly, at a complete loss for words, sat down on the dirt with a thud.

  “His wife, Mary, must’ve refused to leave her clan for his. But at that time, Finn’s clan wasn’t so great, was it?” He paused and watched Reilly carefully, even though Reilly was certain the man already knew what he was saying to be factual.

  “O’Rourke, bite your tongue,” Reilly warned weakly, though he was surprised he could hear himself over the roar in his ears.

  “I also found it interesting that Finn and Mary had two children. A younger daughter by the name of Sorcha…and an older son, born in 1245, by the name of Reilly. A fierce warrior, even at a tender age, who inexplicably disappeared when he was about thirteen.”

  Reilly’s throat closed. “Enough,” he rasped.

  “Finn was an O’Rourke, Reilly. Your father was an O’Rourke! Did that have something to do with how you became the chosen one to lead all the O’Rourke Protectors?”

  Reilly wiped a hand over his face, trying to regain some semblance of composure. “I can’t tell you.”

  “Can’t? Or won’t?”

  “It’s a sordid tale, James, and it’s been my cross to bear for more years than a man should have in his lifetime. Let it lie, for your own peace of mind if nothing else.”

  James released his sword, dropped to the ground in front of Reilly, who remained on the ground, and gripped his shoulders. “You know I’m a vault, Reilly. Words you say to me go no further than my own ears; I’ve never once betrayed anyone’s trust. Think about it. I’m not a Protector, so I can’t ever use your words to travel back to a time when I could change what’s been done to you. But I am your family. A cousin—a brother—who will give his life for you without question or regret. Lean on me as your clansman. Let me carry some of your load.”

  Something shifted inside of Reilly, and he bent his head. Perhaps he had been carrying his secrets for much too long. He nodded, sweat dripping from the hair above his brow.

  James grabbed their bags, stowed their weapons in the boot of Reilly’s car, and gave him a hand up. “I’m listening.”

  Reilly led James inside the large half-gym, half-classroom space he’d built. They walked past the practice rooms, the sword displays, and the locker rooms, stopping once he reached the office.

  “It goes no further,” Reilly said heavily, though he knew he didn’t have to worry. James’s words were truth; once sensitive information was given to him, it was tucked away, never to be mentioned again.

  “You have my word.”

  “Good enough for me.” He ushered James inside, and even though it was barely past dawn, he pulled out a bottle of Irish whiskey and poured himself two fingers. He pushed the bottle toward James, not as an offering, but more as insurance that he wouldn’t drink any more than what was in his glass.

  James wisely said nothing, pulled the bottle from the desk, and placed it out of sight.

  “In 1258, I was thirteen years old. I’d already been training for battle for four years by that point, and I was a fierce warrior in the lists. Men lined up to fight me, as my energy levels were what you’d expect of a teenage boy, though my talents were that of a tested warrior. I’d seen battles and come away the victor in more than a few. My parents were, as you might imagine, quite proud. But one day, my father proclaimed that I might grow to be the best warrior to ever grace Ireland. His boasting was not unnoticed. The O’Rourkes at the time were a mess. They were a disorganized clan, weak in their skills. They constantly battled each other to become laird, though laird of what? They had almost no land, their weapons were rudimentary, and they were very much the barbarians by which other countries judged Ireland. The Fates had been waiting for someone with O’Rourke blood, who had warrior skills and an almost inhuman desire to succeed at every task before him. That was where I came in.

  “When the Fates approached me, they came to me first in my dreams. The Maiden enticed me, as only a maiden can. She offered herself to me, and you can imagine my reaction.” He chuckled humorlessly. “She knew how to get inside a teenage boy’s head. Then the Mother came to me, showering me with praise and adulation for all my successes. And finally, the Crone. She told me that I was destined for great things, if I were but open to them. One night, all three appeared in my dream together, and they told me of my future. The first option was to continue living as I was. I would be victorious in battle, but my family, they told me, would perish in a future, smaller outbreak of the plague. The second option was to become the most powerful warrior of all time; one who could not be defeated in battle, who could not be killed, who could not be contained. A warrior who would conquer all for a greater cause—and in becoming that, my family would be spared their lives, and blessed to live long into old age.”

  “So you chose option two.”

  Reilly laughed hollowly. “I did. I see now that it didn’t matter, that they would’ve persuaded me one way or another. But while they decreed the final outcome, I at least had say in how I got there.”

  James cocked his head. “Why was the O’Rourke clan so important? What did they want you to protect?”

  Reilly closed his eyes for a moment. James asked the one question he’d been asking himself, without a clear answer, for far too long.

  Finally, Reilly answered. “My first job was to somehow unite the O’Rourkes. They weren’t the most warrior-minded of men, but they were ingenious in the ways in which they survived. I singled out the most level-headed man in the clan, convinced him to fight for the lairdship, then guided him as to the best way to keep his position. The Fates whispered in my ear the entire time, so it wasn’t as though I simply walked in and the clan began to listen to me, of course. And once that was complete, it was time to begin my own training. Now, as you know, I train and mentor all the O’Rourke Protectors.”

  “Aside from teaching them swords and street fighting and ancient languages, what else do you do?”

  Reilly folded his hands on the desk in front of him. “I’m responsible for seeing that the current Protector lives at least long enough for the next Protector to be born. Once that happens, I’m to ensure he stays well enough until I can train the new Protector in his duties. Once trained, the former Protector is relieved of his duties if he so chooses.”

  “Has anyone chosen to stay?”

  Reilly met James’s intense stare. “No. However, I can call them at any point in their lives prior to that time. Once relieved, they’ve always been most grateful, as you might imagine.” He cleared his throat. “Once I turned thirty, the Fates decided I was in the prime of my life, and they stopped my aging process.”

  James blinked. “The Fates stopped you from aging?”

  He nodded curtly. “Aye. I had developed all the muscle I ever would, and they essentially paused my body’s growth. It still changes, though at a rate that might seem incomprehensible. For every century, I age but a single year.”

  “Which is why your license says thirty-six.”

  Reilly nodded wearily. “But I’ve been alive much longer than that. It wears on a man. The things I’ve seen, the things I’ve done.”

  “Can you ever stop being a Protector?”

  “I don’t know. If so, I haven’t figured out how. Whenever I’ve asked to be released from this hell, the Fates tell me that the time isn’t yet right.” He shot back the whiskey and let it burn all the way down his chest, into his belly, before he continued. “I’ve doubted for a long time that I’ll ever be just a normal man again.”

  “What about the soul mate?”

&n
bsp; Reilly rolled his eyes. “Again, I doubt that applies to me. I’m a special case. While I do train the new Protectors, my main job is to ensure that Brianagh’s children, and her children’s children, stay alive long enough so that we have enough time travelers to fight when the time comes. Bri and Nick have created an incredible blend of O’Rourke ingenuity with MacWilliam ferocity. Those in that line that are born with the gift are Protectors by choice; they can choose to refuse it, and if they do, I then wait for the next Protector to be born. A soul mate would distract me from the mission.”

  James chewed his lip, clearly hedging his next question. “What exactly is the mission, Ry?”

  Reilly took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’m still not quite sure.”

  James blinked. “What?”

  “Aye. I believe the O’Rourkes carry something of value to the Fates, but I’ve not been privy to the what of it.”

  “But…how can you know nothing of it? Your entire life has been dedicated to the clan, without understanding what it is you’re protecting? That seems highly unlikely.”

  Reilly pursed his lips. “And time travel is also highly unlikely. Yet here we are.”

  “Reilly. You must have some idea.”

  Reilly nodded wearily. “Aye. From what I’ve gathered throughout the years, sometime in the future, or perhaps in the past…all the people of Ireland must join together under a single ruler. I believe it will be one of Bri and Nick’s direct descendants. They’ll do so under the Fates. Until that time comes, the line must be protected. But truly, I don’t know for sure. We simply protect the line, to ensure that the descendant can take his rightful place and save the people.”

  “And until that time, you’re forced to watch everyone you love grow old.”

  “Aye,” he agreed quietly. “Though I was given the body of an immortal, I am still just a man. And this time, it’s more difficult than ever.”

  “Because of Gwen?”

  Reilly avoided James’s eyes. A moment ticked by, then another. He lowered his head again and let out a small breath. “Aye.”

  “Then you can’t let her marry this guy.”

  Reilly barked out a humorless laugh. “When has Gwen ever allowed me that sway over her?”

  James crossed his ankle over his knee. “She loved you once, Reilly.”

  “Aye. I’ve spent the last ten years ensuring she knew I thought of her as a brother in every possible way.”

  The troubled look on James’s face echoed Reilly’s fears. “And you were successful in that. To the point where she’s agreed to marry another.”

  “Aye. Hollow victory, that.”

  “Nah. You’ve just made it harder on yourself.”

  “Because I waited too long.”

  “No, because it took you too long to realize you could’ve had her all along. If you’d known she would’ve accepted the idea of your time traveling, would you have let her love you, and love her in return?”

  Reilly pushed his untouched whiskey around on the desk. “Like I said, it doesn’t matter now. I’m too late. She’s engaged to another man.” The words physically hurt his chest.

  James narrowed his eyes. “Oh, you’re not too late yet, cousin. She hasn’t said ‘I do.’”

  Reilly sucked in a breath, his eyes snapping to James’s. “By the saints…you think I should steal her?”

  “In a way. I mean, you are a warrior, are you not?”

  Reilly’s mind began to spin.

  “And,” James continued, breaking out in a grin, “you’ve never yet lost a battle. This one is no different, but the prize…damn, Reilly, you’d get Gwen. Forever.”

  “I’ve no idea where to start.” He dropped his head in his hands.

  James coughed, though it sounded suspiciously like a laugh. “I’m sure you can figure it out.”

  “I’d have to make her love me again.”

  “Do you think she simply stopped loving you? Or,” James asked carefully, “do you think that with the right circumstances, you could show her how wrong you’ve been, and maybe she could see her way back to you?”

  Reilly stood suddenly and grabbed his keys. “I don’t know. But I need to find out.”

  Chapter Four

  An hour later, Reilly stared at the pot of coffee in his kitchen as it brewed. Water from his shower dripped into his eye, shaking him out of his reverie, and he slicked his wet hair back from his face, reminding himself that he was due for a haircut.

  It was no coincidence that he was also due to visit his mother soon, and she always found it humorous that his hair was so short. He loved to make her laugh.

  “Want to borrow my hair elastic?” Gwen asked, stifling a yawn as she grabbed a cup from his cabinet, poured some coffee, and handed it to him. “You’re almost ready for a man bun.”

  His heart stuttered at the sight of her sleepy green eyes. Outwardly, he shuddered in horror. “Bite your tongue, lass. I’ve plans to shear it this very afternoon. Did you sleep well?”

  She stuck her tongue out at him. “You know I did. Thanks for the rescue last night.”

  He sipped his coffee as he watched her prepare her own. Copious amounts of sugar were dumped in, then stirred. She then poured enough cream into the cup to ensure there wasn’t any trace of coffee left and took a sip.

  “Mmmm.”

  “Why bother with putting the coffee in at all?”

  She batted her eyelashes at him over the rim of her cup. “Because drinking just cream and sugar would be uncivilized.”

  He chose his next words carefully. “Have you spoken to Anthony this morning?”

  Her eyes shuttered. “No.”

  “He doesn’t know you’re staying here?”

  Her shoulders tensed. “Not yet.”

  He noticed the tension lines around her eyes. “When does he arrive for the wedding?”

  She looked anywhere but him. “I don’t really know.”

  He blinked, assimilating this new information. “I thought he was coming in earlier than that?”

  “Plans changed last minute,” she replied abruptly, her spine stiffening. “Let’s not discuss it anymore.”

  That was fine with him. He had three weeks of Gwen, all to himself.

  “Aye, so plans changed. They often do. What do you have to do today, lass?”

  She tapped her chin, and with that simple movement, Reilly felt a rush of happiness at the familiar scene. How many times had this woman sat at his table, doing the exact same thing, over coffee? Or weak tea, her preferred beverage in the afternoon, or a deep red wine, her beverage of choice at night?

  With a pang, he realized that if he let her go, this was likely to be her last stay at his home. But damn him if he wasn’t pleased that her hotel reservations were canceled. Knowing she was in town, but not in the bedroom that he’d made hers years ago, felt all kinds of wrong.

  She belonged with him.

  When he saw her, worn out and exhausted, standing outside that hotel…He knew that she was his, body and, dare he think it, soul.

  He’d been so stupid all these years.

  “I have to be at the dress fitting soon,” Gwen said, reaching over and popping a biscuit in her mouth. Then, talking around the food, she added, “But nothing else for the next few days.” She swallowed. “Ellie sent me a text that Colin has to return to Boston for some company emergency, and that she’s going with him. They leave tomorrow night.”

  “I’m sorry, lass. I know how much you wanted to spend these three weeks with her.”

  Gwen shrugged. “Actually, it’s okay.”

  He frowned. “Will you be heading back as well, then?”

  She chewed her lip. “I’m not really sure.”

  Reilly paused, his cup halfway to his mouth. “Are you worried about getting another flight back? Are finances tight?”

  She rolled her eyes. “No, but thanks for the concern.”

  “Then whyever would you stay, when your fiancé awaits?” He was digging, he knew, but
he had to know so he could figure out ways to convince her to stay in Ireland.

  She shrugged. “He’s in Atlanta for a few weeks, working on another project. I just…would rather be here right now.”

  The elation he felt at that statement gave him all the push he needed.

  Perhaps this is where he differed from modern men. Reilly sneaked a glance at Gwen’s face, mostly hidden behind her cup as she drank, and he knew that he would never voluntarily choose anything over her. He would move heaven and earth to ensure that she knew he was always there for her.

  In fact, he often did just that, and last night proved that she counted on him.

  She continued, oblivious to his plotting, “Of course, I understand Ellie’s position. She’s in love with Colin and doesn’t want to be away from him. I don’t blame her one bit. In fact, I even suggested they elope while they were there, but all I got was a smiley face in return.”

  Reilly read the text she showed him and laughed, though inside, he wondered if she saw the difference between Ellie’s desire to be close to her love, and her own decided lack of desire to see hers?

  He merely replied, “Aye, Eleanor is blind to everything but Colin. He’s a lucky man.”

  Gwen smiled, her eyes shining. “I’ve never been happier for her. I was—”

  She was interrupted by the chirping of her phone, and as she saw what came across the screen, her face changed in an instant from happy to nervous.

  “Everything all right?”

  She started to respond, and he watched as she twirled a piece of her hair around her finger. The movement of the silky strands mesmerized him, and he realized with a start that he was staring as she was talking.

  “Sorry, what was that?” he asked, embarrassed at his uncharacteristic lack of control.

  “I know, right? It’s silly of him to be so jealous of you. But like I just said, Anthony will freak out if he knows I’m staying here. But what other option do I have? There aren’t any hotels for days, at least. And I like it here. I love spending time with you.” Her voice became tight. “And I can do whatever I want. I’m not a cheater. He should know that by now.”