Erin stirred, twisting around to kiss him briefly. “Water’s getting cold. Let’s finish washing and do that again, only in the bed this time.”
“Have I mentioned how much I truly appreciate the way you think, mo céile?” He did as he was told, and helped her dry off as well, lingering over his favorite dips and swells. He followed the linen towel with kisses. He scooped her into his arms and carried her to the bed, loving her all over again until she cried out his name. Wrapping himself around her, he pulled her close. A small sigh, a slight adjustment to her position, and she fell asleep.
Sleep did not come so easily for him. He held the center of his world in his arms. She nestled against him, her warmth seeping into his heart and soul. Worry for the coming dawn plagued him, kept him wakeful and restless with apprehension. So much to lose. Never before had the stakes been so high. Tightening his arms around her, he placed a kiss on her bare shoulder, stroked her side where her waist flared to her hip. His eyes stung, and his throat tightened. Everything in him screamed to turn around and head home for the safety of Moigh Hall, with Erin thrown over his shoulder if need be. Folly. ’Twas folly to consort with the fae, and he’d stepped willingly into the trap. The price of his bargain was far too high. All he wanted was a way out that dinna cost him his wife—or his life.
Rob clasped Erin’s hand in his. The path to Giselle’s cottage lay covered in snow. Their footprints the only thing marring the sparkling white purity, they made their way toward whatever fate held in store. A strangling band of tension squeezed his chest, and he gripped the hilt of the dagger at his waist.
Erin puffed out a steamy breath. “Slow down. I can’t keep up with your strides.”
“Och, I’m sorry.” He slowed his pace. “I was no’ aware.”
“Phew.” She grinned. “That’s better. It’s really pretty through here. I always love the first snowfall, but by February I’d be happy never to see another white flake again as long as I live.”
How could she be so carefree? He frowned at her. “Humph.” Searching the tree limbs, he noted the absence of the menacing crows. No cawing warnings this morn. The sun rested low on the eastern horizon, just beginning its journey through the domed heavens above. He glanced at his wife. The physical exertion and the chill air had put roses on her cheeks. True to her word, she’d brought her satchel containing the wicked pepper spray. He shook his head.
“What?” She met his gaze, her eyes glinting with challenge. “Why’d you shake your head like that?”
“’Tis the notion that somehow your pepper spray will be of any use to us that caused me to shake my head, lass.” He raised an eyebrow. “Did ye no’ learn anything from our last encounter with the fae?”
“Sure, but I also have the diamonds in here.” She patted the leather bag hanging from her shoulder. “I thought we could give them back. They’re worth a lot. Maybe it’ll make a difference.”
He shook his head again. “I doubt it.”
“Look,” she said, throwing her arm out in an expansive gesture at their surroundings. “It’s a gorgeous morning. These woods are so peaceful and pretty,” she said while squeezing his hand. “I just have to believe that everything is going to go in our favor.”
In the absence of the black-winged sentinels, he could almost believe it himself. He stopped, turned Erin toward him, and gripped her shoulders. “I pray it is so, lass.” Drawing her close enough that the steam from their breaths mingled, he kissed her. Passion flared, along with hope. Mayhap having her by his side would make all the difference.
“Come,” he huffed out. “Let us get this over with.” Once again he grasped her hand and led her along the path.
“We’re jogging again, eh?” She trotted along beside him.
“Aye.” They came to the edge of the clearing, and he halted, scanning the area for immediate danger.
Erin hugged his arm. “Nice little place.”
He eyed the cottage, wariness raising the fine hairs on the back of his neck. A curl of smoke rose from the chimney, and the chickens were back. The early morning sun cast a mellow glow over the glittering snow. “Erin . . .”
“I love you, Robley.” She placed her palm on his face and brought his gaze to hers. “It’s going to be all right. I know it is.”
Placing his hand over hers, her turned toward her hand to kiss her palm. He took a fortifying breath and stared at the cottage. The door opened, and Giselle peered out at them. Mayhap she’d spied their approach through one of the windows, but more than likely she’d been expecting them. Robley looped Erin’s arm through his and brought her toward the faerie awaiting them. “Good morn to you, Madame Giselle.”
“And to you.” The old crone’s eyes narrowed. “What brings you to my doorstep, young Robley?” She opened the door wider and bade them enter. “I would have thought you’d be content to spend the winter at Moigh Hall with your new bride.”
They passed through the same threshold he’d forced himself through but a few weeks past. Erin gasped. “Then it’s true. You did send him to me on purpose.”
Giselle’s cackled response sent shivers down Robley’s spine. All of his protective instincts surging, he put his arm around Erin’s shoulders and tucked her against his side. The urge to get his wife away from this place and away from this being nearly unhinged him.
“Of course,” Giselle said, closing the door behind them.
“Then do you also know what has happened since then?” Erin shot her an expectant look.
The interior once again held all the vestiges of long habitation. Rob surveyed the room, surreptitiously searching for the stolen pensieve.
“Much has happened since then.” Giselle went to the cauldron hanging over the glowing coals of her hearth. “To which happening do you refer?” She glanced at them over her shoulder. “Sit. Have some tea, and we’ll talk.” Pointing to a crude wooden bench set against the wall, she said, “Bring that over, lad, so that we might all have a place at my table.”
Giselle poured boiling water into her teapot and set it on the table next to three mugs. She brought over a bowl of fragrant honey and a board holding fresh bread and placed them beside the mugs.
The ordinary fare set him at ease. He placed the bench by the table and pulled out the chairs for the women. Only when they’d been seated did he take his place on the bench. “I assumed you sent me to Erin specifically. She saved True’s life and the lives of her twins. I believe that is one of the happenings my wife speaks of.”
“I knew what was to be, and I took advantage of your desire to visit the future.” Giselle canted her head. “I placed no compulsion on you, though I know full well you believe I did. Your thirst for adventure leant itself well to my purposes, and I acted accordingly.” She raised her brow. “Are you displeased with the end result? You are newly wedded, as was your truest desire, though I doubt you saw it so clearly. And my wish to provide help to Hunter’s guardian has been fulfilled.” She busied herself with pouring their tea. “All in all, I believe our bargain was fair. Do you not agree?”
“Then you don’t know about the faerie warrior who followed Robley to my apartment?” Erin’s eyes widened. “The faerie accused him of stealing a pensieve from your high king, the same silver platter you had Robley retrieve for you. He gave my husband thirty days to get it back. If Robley doesn’t return the pensieve to him, the faerie said he’s going to kill him.” She raised her chin. “That’s why we’re here. We need your help.”
Giselle laughed. “Your man and I struck a bargain, and I held up my end. I owe him nothing.”
“Here,” Erin said, riffling through the purse hanging from her shoulder. “I brought the diamonds back that you gave him. Surely they’re worth something to you. We can trade them for the silver platter.”
“You brought the crystals here?” Giselle shot up from her place. “Foolish mortal!”
“Why?
They don’t work anymore.” Erin frowned. “We tried them both when the faerie warrior sent us back to this century.”
The temperature took a sudden drop, and the scent of impending rain filled Rob’s senses. “Shite.” He grabbed Erin’s hand and dragged her toward the door. “Make haste. We need to be away from here.” A blasting force slammed against them, pinning them both against the wall beside the door, their hands still clasped.
“I can’t move.” Erin’s panicked tone matched his own.
“Nor can I, lass. Be quiet.”
“Áine!” A voice boomed, causing the shutters covering the windows to shake. Two beings appeared, crowding the small room with their magic and the sheer force of their presence.
Robley tried to free himself from whatever held him. His arms and legs were frozen in place, and fear gripped him by the throat. One of the beings was the warrior he’d hoped against hope never to see again. The other could only be the high king himself. He radiated such power and majesty there could be no doubt.
“You will return to me what you took.” The high king floated above the wooden planks of the floor. Blue fire danced along the surface of his skin, and he glared at Giselle.
“It’s mine, Father.”
Father? God’s blood, Giselle was the king’s daughter? What the bloody hell had he embroiled himself—and his love—in. The warrior’s brow lowered as he fixed his sights on Erin.
“It was yours, and I took it from you because you abused the pensieve and defied my laws.” The king glided toward Giselle.
Rob’s lungs seized. The old crone’s appearance shifted, turning ethereal before his very eyes. She was no longer the stooped, wrinkled old hag. Her skin smoothed to perfection, and hair the color of moonbeams cascaded down her back. Her eyes glowed an impossible blue. A halo of the same blue light emanating from her eyes gilded her entire form.
“I only use it to watch over my progeny. You forbade me to visit them through time. What choice did I have?” Giselle—no—Áine declared.
“And yet you do so regardless.” The king glanced their way.
“Of course I do. You would too if you had halflings to watch over.” She turned to the warrior. “How could you, Haldor,” she snapped, her tone dripping with disdain. “You were there when the pensieve was given to me. How dare you accuse me of stealing what was mine from the start.”
“I serve my king, Princess.” Haldor’s gaze slid to Áine and then once again focused upon Erin. “She does not belong here, and the human male—”
“Don’t you dare hurt him,” Erin gritted out between clenched teeth. “I belong with my husband.”
“Och, lass. Wheesht.” Robley’s heart pummeled against his rib cage, and tears blurred his vision. “Wheesht now, my love,” he begged, hoping against hope the warrior’s attention would stray from Erin and once again turn to the argument between the king and his daughter.
The air beside Erin rippled and pulsed with pale greens and pinks. Her hand was torn from his. “Rob!”
“Nay! Dinna take my wife from me,” he shouted. “Please, I beg of you . . .” She disappeared from his sight. “If you must send her back, send me with her, but dinna separate me from her,” he implored. “I canna bear the loss.” A rending grief stole the breath from his lungs and the beat from his heart. His soul ripped asunder, and yet he remained fixed to the wall, unable to move or to act.
Erin was gone, taking his reason for living with her. “Please, send me to her,” Rob rasped out.
“You have trespassed where you ought not to have tread, mortal.” Haldor stared at him, his features inscrutable. “But you have led us to the orchestrator of your crime against my king. With my liege’s permission, I will spare your life.” He glanced at the faerie king, who nodded slightly in agreement.
His limbs were once again his to command. “I canna bear to live without my wife by my side.” Robley gripped his dagger and lunged for Haldor.
“Foolish human.” The faerie warrior raised his hands.
The air rippled and shimmered before Robley, and joy exploded within him, replacing his sorrow. He would be with Erin, and it mattered not whether it be in his time or hers. Fixing her in his mind, along with her apartment and the year, he dove for the portal with all his strength.
Pressure assaulted him from all sides, hurling him through time and space. Blackness edged in around him, clouding his vision. He struggled to remain conscious. He had to remain fixed upon his love’s image, had to keep his mind focused upon the time and place he wished to be. Still, the darkness encroached, robbing him of his ability to focus, swamping him with misery until he could no longer hold on to his thoughts—or awareness. Unable to hold on, the darkness took him where it would, and his last thought was that he must surely be dying after all.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Erin fell through time’s portal to land with a thud—facedown in the middle of her living room floor. Her head throbbed and her joints ached, but those hurts were nothing compared to the pain in her heart. My God! What just happened? She rolled to her back as tears flooded her eyes. What had become of Robley? Had the faerie warrior killed him? No! She covered her face with her hands and forced her mind away from the unthinkable.
Somehow she’d managed to hold on to her purse while being hurled through time. She fished around inside for her cell phone. Once she had it, she drew it out, turned it on and checked the date and time. A sob erupted just before the battery died and the screen went black. How could it be? Today was the very same date and time she and Rob had been sent to the past.
How was it possible she hadn’t lost a single day of her life, yet at the same time she’d lost everything that mattered?
She’d been the one to insist they go to Giselle. Robley had known better from the start, and she hadn’t listened. None of them had listened. Oh, Robley, what have I done? She curled up into a fetal position.
The damned diamonds! That’s how the faerie had tracked them, and he’d waited to appear until she led him straight to Giselle—and to Robley, the only man she’d ever given her heart to completely. She might very well have been the cause of his death. Grief and anger tore her apart. She put her arms around her middle and sobbed until she had no more tears left to cry.
She must have fallen asleep, because she awoke to find her apartment dark. Drawing in a ragged breath, she prayed Giselle had spoken up on Rob’s behalf. He might still be alive. Right? After all, he’d only done the faerie’s bidding, and by the sounds of the argument, the pensieve really had belonged to Giselle. She grasped at that straw with both hands, wrapped her mind firmly around the hope and built a solid wall of denial to keep out the alternative. Sure. He might be alive, but we’re separated by centuries, by an ocean and continents.
It might as well be a universe. She had no way to cross the divide.
Obviously the faeries used the crystals for a number of purposes. Maybe Giselle had manipulated the power so Erin couldn’t travel through time to return home before helping True. Maybe . . . She rose from the floor and turned on the lights before reaching into her purse for the leather pouch holding the two gems. Her hands shook as she opened the drawstring and dumped the crystals into her palm. Picking up the larger of the two, she closed her eyes and sent up a prayer. With Rob’s image firmly in her mind, along with the keep in Inverness and the date, she crouched down and sent the diamond spinning.
Nothing happened.
Her hopes shattered. She threw the second diamond across the room. It hit the back of the couch and came to rest in the place Rob always sat when they watched movies together. She blinked against the tears blurring her vision and imagined him sitting there with his sexy, dimpled smile aimed her way. The memory of his warm gaze stole the air from her lungs and turned her into a mess of blubbering misery. What gave the Tuatha Dé Danann the right to interfere with her life? Damn them.
Erin p
ushed herself off the floor and wandered down the hall to Robley’s room. She turned on the light and stared at his claymore leaning against the wall. He’d regretted losing the weapon. Hadn’t he said the sword had been made especially for him? Now it was hers. A rumpled T-shirt lay at the end of his unmade bed. Snatching it up, she brought it to her face and inhaled deeply. His scent brought a fresh wave of pain. Still, she breathed it in over and over. How long would the cotton hold his smell? Desperation clawed at her. Would his scent last longer if she kept the T-shirt in a ziplock plastic bag? She’d do it if that’s what it took to keep this reminder of him with her.
Hugging the cotton shirt to her chest, she crossed the room to his dresser and pulled open one of the drawers. It held his plaid. Oh, God! Memories of the day he’d fallen through time engulfed her. Every day they’d spent together played through her mind. His endearing gestures and mannerisms, his cocky, easygoing nature, his optimism, his fifteenth-century chivalry—she’d lost her perfect match. Everything about him made her a better person. Because of him, she’d made friends at Loch Moigh and finally felt like she belonged somewhere. How weird was it that the only time in her life when she’d had a place, or felt as if she belonged, existed long before she’d even been born?
Erin had to talk to someone, or she’d go nuts. Connor needed to know Rob wouldn’t show up to work for his next shift, or ever again for that matter. She headed back to the kitchen, still clutching Rob’s T-shirt, and used her landline to make the call.
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