“Haven’t taken any,” Reilly shot back.
James blinked. “For how long?”
Instead of answering, Reilly lifted his glass in James’s direction and took a sip. It had been a long month of recovery, but the time passed so much faster with Gwen as his nurse. Just the thought brought a smile to his face.
He still had a long road ahead of him, but ’twas perhaps one he could take his time following. After all, he hadn’t anywhere to be, except in the arms of his love.
Aidan flipped the nearest chair around and straddled it, then signaled to a server for a new round of drinks before continuing, “So, since the patient can drink, are we commiserating on Colin’s shackles, or are we toasting his intelligence for marrying such a wonder?”
All three men swung their gazes to Colin, who was gazing with adoration at his new bride as they swayed slowly to the music.
“Toasting, of course,” James replied with a smile. “Look how happy he is.”
“Bloke could float off the floor in his Doc Martens at this point,” Reilly agreed. He signaled, a server placed three tumblers in front of the men. They raised their glasses toward Colin. He happened to look up at them, and the grin on his face couldn’t help but be returned threefold.
“Poor bastard,” Aidan murmured, smile firmly in place.
“He’s done for,” Reilly readily agreed.
“Pathetic,” James snickered, his eyes glinting in amusement. The song changed, and the couple in question headed straight for their table.
“You gentlemen all look so handsome in your tuxes,” Ellie exclaimed, her cheeks a pretty pink. “Aidan, the restaurant is stunning. Thank you for letting us use it with such short notice. I’ve no idea how you managed to make it so magical!”
“I stepped aside and allowed your aunt to hire a decorator,” he deadpanned.
“Surely a smart decision,” Emma said, sliding into the chair next to him. She gave him a small smile. “Have I told you how amazing you look tonight?”
Smiling at their love, Ellie turned to Reilly. “Where’s Gwen?”
Reilly glanced pointedly at the empty seat next to him. “Not here?”
She laughed. “I meant has she returned from dealing with her parents?”
Reilly frowned. “I didn’t realize she was.”
Colin placed a hand on his shoulder. “They were trying to set her up with one of my coworkers, last I saw of them.”
Reilly frowned. “She wanted to wait until after the ceremony to tell them about us. That, and I need to speak with her sire.”
Ellie bit her lip and pointed. “She’s over there, and she doesn’t look very happy.”
All four pair of protective male eyes swung to Gwen, who stood alone, her arms wrapped around her middle. Her light green eyes watched as her parents exited the restaurant.
“You think O’Malley is the one to make her happy?” Aidan asked, stroking his chin.
“Surely not,” Colin agreed. “He’s always so moody.”
“Foul-tempered,” Aidan agreed.
“Don’t forget high-handed,” James put in.
Ellie rolled her eyes. “Honestly, gentlemen, he’s not all of those things!”
“Ignore these idiots, Eleanor, for I vow they’re struck dumb by your beauty, and are therefore running their mouths without thought, as per usual. Love looks wonderful on you,” Reilly added, leaning over to kiss her cheek.
Ellie’s radiant smile grew as she carefully pulled him in close for a hug. “You are the sweetest man, Reilly.”
“Don’t tell anyone,” he whispered. He straightened and smoothed his hand over his tux jacket. “Watch how ’tis done, lads.”
“Finally decided to woo her?” James chortled.
“We’ll have to speak with her about her life choices,” Aidan said with a sigh. “Clearly, if she’s contemplating a lifetime with you, she needs an intervention.”
Reilly observed his love for a moment. Her fiery copper curls were placed artfully around the top of her head, leaving her long, slender neck exposed. Reilly could see her pulse beating rapidly against her translucent skin. The long, emerald-green bridesmaid gown highlighted her slim waist, and except for that blasted piece of O’Rourke color on her, it complemented her well. She was magnificent, and if her parents made her cry, they would feel the full wrath of Reilly O’Malley.
Pushing his wayward thoughts aside, the crowd parted easily for him.
She saw him coming, and she blinked rapidly. “Ry! Are they doing the cake cutting yet? I wasn’t sure when…” She trailed off as he wordlessly pulled her onto the dance floor. “Okay, so we’re dancing.”
Silently, he pulled her close, and she willingly went into his arms, laying her head against his chest. She let out an enormous sigh, and simply let him hold her.
“Go slow,” she whispered, craning her neck to look up at him. “I don’t want you to hurt.”
A seductive smile crossed his lips. “My stitches are out, as you well know.”
Gwen blushed a delightful shade of crimson, and Reilly’s laugh rumbled in his chest. If he could have Gwen in his bed every moment for all time, he’d gladly tear his stitches over and over again.
Days after he’d gotten her in his bed, she’d put a stop to all their bed play after having to give James a story about his having been in the kitchen and reaching for something in a high cabinet for her.
That was most definitely not how he tore his stitches.
James had put his doctor face on for Gwen, assuring her that such things happened all the time. The moment her attention was diverted, though, James gave Reilly an are-you-kidding-me? look. Reilly had just shrugged.
“What happened with your parents?”
Gwen, smart lass, didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “They gave my number out to three men here.”
“Did they?” Reilly growled.
She patted his chest as though he was a wild animal in need of comfort. “Yes. But put your hackles down. I set them straight.”
“Oh?”
“I told them about us,” she replied softly. When he tensed in her arms, she leaned up on her tiptoes and pulled him toward her. She planted a soft kiss on his mouth, and he let her do what she wanted to his lips. She pulled back. “They were surprised and immediately demanded to know the balance of your bank accounts.”
He relaxed fractionally. “Easily given.”
“Reilly, no. It’s none of their business. It’s none of my business.”
“They’ll want a pre-nup.”
She blinked. “Did you overhear us?”
He chuckled. “Nay. But I’ve known them for years, lass, and all they’ve ever known is that I’m a simple woodworker.”
“You are much more than that,” she agreed, a small smile playing at her lips.
He gave her a tender smile. “Aye. And they’re not to worry. I can provide for you quite comfortably.”
She frowned. “I can provide for myself, you know. I’ve got investments all over the place, and I’m involved with four different venture capitalists who have strong portfolios—”
He leaned into her ear and whispered, “Your money is your money. But my money is ours.”
He could almost feel her roll her eyes, and he chuckled.
“I have plenty for us both,” she insisted. “You don’t have to do that. I don’t care that I have more than you, and you better not pull that Neanderthal thought process that the man has to make more—”
He sighed. “Gwen.”
“What?”
He stopped dancing and looked her in the eye. “I’ve thrice your trust fund to my name.”
Her mouth dropped open. “Thrice?”
“Thrice.”
Her mouth worked for a moment. He took advantage of her silence and began dancing with her again.
“You never told me!” she finally exclaimed.
“Because it doesn’t matter. It never has.”
She heaved a great sigh, making him smile. He l
oved that he could surprise her, especially when she thought she knew everything there was to know.
“You’re right. But still.”
He stopped dancing and stepped back, his hands rubbing circles on her bare arms. “Did you just say I was right?”
She pursed her lips at him in response.
“I’ll take that as confirmation,” he declared. His eyes softened. “Praise the saints that you had enough sense to never fully let go of me, Gwen. It took me far too long to accept what I knew in my heart to be true.”
“Are you being romantic?” she teased, her eyes twinkling. “I mean, keep going. Feel free to pontificate all night long.”
He huffed out a laugh. “Cheeky lass.”
“Must be the wedding. Weddings make everyone sentimental,” she laughed.
He pulled her in close again, relishing the feel of her. He wrapped one arm around her waist and slid his other hand down her arm, then caught her fingers in his. He brought her hand against his chest.
“I love you, Gwendolyn Allen.”
She melted into him, and he felt a love so overwhelming, it nearly knocked him to the floor.
“I love you too, Reilly O’Malley.” She kept her head against his chest and nuzzled him with her nose. “Now, this might be the wedding talking, or maybe it’s just you in this tux, but I was wondering if you’d maybe want to make this a permanent thing.”
He stumbled, nearly taking her out. “What?”
She righted his bowtie. “Yeah. You and me. We’re already bound by destiny and fate and all the rest. Why not?”
He stood stock-still, stunned. “Are you…”
“Proposing to you?” She nodded, then chewed her lip thoughtfully. “I am, though I’m botching it up pretty well. My original speech had a lot more flowery medieval language.”
“Your original speech? You’ve been planning this?”
He felt winded; he’d planned a romantic proposal for her. He wanted to take her back to Boston, where they met all those years ago. To the hotel, to the bar, where he’d first realized she was more than just a one-night stand. He wanted to say all the things that he knew then but thought he could never have.
“See, nothing I ever do goes to plan,” she explained with a heavy sigh. “That’s okay. I’m going to go with my next plan.”
“Oh?” he managed.
“Yep. Since you didn’t like that one, I’m going to try it another way. Come on.”
“I’d hoped to do this for you!” he protested. “Gwen, wait. Truly. Marriage is but a slip of paper—”
“Oh, hush up, Reilly,” she exclaimed, leading him off the dance floor toward their table. Colin and Ellie had sat down with Aidan, Emma, and James.
“Do you have it?” she asked without preamble.
The entire table fell absolutely silent. Colin nodded, reaching inside his own jacket. He withdrew a very old, yellowed piece of parchment and handed it to her.
She pushed Reilly into his chair, then got on her knees in between his own.
Reilly folded his arms, a stern look on his face. He didn’t like this. He was supposed to ask Gwen. ’Twas his privilege to ask for her hand for the rest of his days. “Nay, Gwendolyn, I—”
Gwen halted his words when she flicked her eyes up to his. They were clear and bright, and held such beauty, he was rendered speechless, for her eyes were truly a window to her pure soul.
“I wrote this while James was stitching you up, back at Bri’s. I left it there, in a paper bag, with instructions for Claire to put it in a loose stone in her chamber, for me to recover in the future.” She smiled at Colin. “Colin got it for me, the day I told you how we got to you.”
“Ah. So that’s where you hid, instead of dealing with my wrath,” Reilly intoned.
Colin flashed him a grin. Gwen looked down at her paper and began to read.
“You are my everything. You are my forever. We’re opposites in so many ways, but you make me a better woman, and I want to spend the rest of my life making you smile.”
Reilly gaped at her as his brain registered two things simultaneously. She was really, truly proposing to him…and she was doing so in medieval Gaelic.
“I vow, if you accept my hand, that I will sass you and make you grumble. I will go to the bakery instead of burning down your kitchen. And I will give you—” she pointed at a word, and Aidan gave her the pronunciation before she continued, “—bairns to add to our own clan.” She slowly folded the paper, and she raised her eyes, raw with vulnerability. In English, she whispered, “Please do me the honor of becoming my husband.”
He felt his eyes prick with an unfamiliar sensation. He nodded, once, and pulled her into his lap. He lightly kissed her jaw, her cheeks, her eyes; finally, he gently kissed her lips.
“Aye, lass. It will always be aye.”
Epilogue
Reilly stood outside his and Gwen’s cottage, the snow falling gently around him. He felt a detached sort of anger, but no cold.
“Why do you disturb me?”
“You have a choice to make,” the Maiden replied gently, “As do all Protectors who have claimed their mate.”
He leveled the three women in front of him with a hard stare. “The time has come for me to be done with time travel.”
The Mother sighed. “Aye, we knew you would say that. I believe our decision, then, was a wise one.”
“We usually do make wise decisions,” the Maiden added mildly.
The Crone hobbled forward. “You’ve been a good servant, as good as a human can be. And we agree: the time for someone new is upon us.”
“Someone new,” he repeated, without inflection. “Are warriors so common, then, that ’tis easy enough to pluck another lad from his home and family with a threat to those he loves? Force him to watch all around him die, knowing he can never follow them wherever they go from this earth?”
“Complacent is hardly a word I’d use to describe you. And, unlike many of your race, we Fates learn from our mistakes,” the Crone replied in a lofty tone. “You weren’t given much of a choice. You agreed, but under…”
“Duress?” Reilly supplied sardonically.
The Crone shrugged. “Your time is done, O’Malley. You may choose to stay on as a Protector, or you may walk away. The choice is yours, as it is every Protector who’s found his mate.”
He paused. He’d asked the question thousands of times in his life, but they’d never given him a clear answer. Reilly looked each one in the eye.
“What have I been protecting all this time? The O’Rourkes, of course. But why?”
The Maiden smiled. “Isn’t it obvious?”
“Not to me.”
“You were protecting us,” the Mother said. “We only continue to exist because the legends are kept alive. The O’Rourkes are the keepers of our legend.”
“What will happen to you now?”
“Well…we will continue on. But how well we continue on will be largely up to you, if you choose to teach.”
“Teach what?”
“Your replacement.”
Reilly gaped. “You’re serious? Did you force him into it?”
The Crone chortled. “Another mistake we have certainly learned from. Our new replacement has agreed using naught but your favorite thing…free will. All facets of this have been explained, analyzed, and discussed. The choice was made with all possible knowledge given beforehand, and this time, ’twas not a child to whom these powers will be given.”
“I can’t wait to see who you’ve convinced to take my place. I find it difficult to believe that a man could understand everything involved, without experiencing it.”
“A man,” the Crone cackled with disbelief. “Have you not been listening, O’Malley? As I’ve been saying…we learn from our mistakes.”
She slammed her staff into the ground, and a fourth figure was revealed as the fog cleared.
“Nay,” he breathed, icy tendrils of dread snaking down his spine.
“Hello, co
usin.” Claire MacWilliam smiled at him confidently. “I think you’ll find me a most willing student.”
About the Author
Born and raised near Boston, Massachusetts, Nancy Scanlon earned her B.A. in English from the University of Massachusetts Amherst, and obtained a graduate certificate in creative writing from the University of Cambridge. By day, Nancy is the principal technical writer for a software company, and she adores all things misty, caffeinated, chocolatey, and grammatically correct.
When not writing, Nancy spends her time reading, reviewing and blogging about romance novels, watching too much HGTV, and taking care of her family.
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Falling Through Time: Mists of Fate - Book Four Page 31
