Through the Veil

by Kyra Whitton

  But he was there to kiss them away. Slowly. One before the other. His lips brushed hers lightly, bringing them nose to nose, and he plucked at her lower lip, a quick capture and release. The salt of her tears found her tongue through trembling lips, and another sob rushed forward. He cradled her cheeks in his big hands, his thumbs wiping away the drying tracks of her tears.

  “You are more than your body, Evelyn.” He pressed another soft kiss to the corner of her lips. “You are more than your past.” Another kiss. “You are all of you, and there isn’t an inch of you I don’t—”

  Was it embarrassment or pleasure burning across her skin? She couldn’t be sure. With a jerk, she broke his palms from her cheeks.

  “Has anyone ever told you talk too much?” She pressed her mouth to his, silencing him.

  He nipped her lower lip. “Has anyone ever told you you’re exasperating?”

  “All the time,” she murmured.

  And then she slithered down and showed him just how exasperating she could be.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Evie snuggled into his side, breathing him in. Gray light crept through the windows; the clouds hung thick and heavy with unspent rain. The curtains had never been drawn, and they framed the large picture windows overlooking rolling green parkland.

  She pulled the blankets tighter around her shoulders and wiggled further into Alec’s arms; the room was cold, matching the gray sky, and she craved his warmth. They were wrapped around each other, one of his strong thighs nestled between both of hers, her toes tickling at his calf. She found herself thinking about Christmas, of waking up like this to snow flurries and carols and twinkling Christmas lights.

  She imagined bringing him home to her parents. Her father would be pleased. He would offer Alec a beer while she went to help her mom in the kitchen with the hors d’oeuvres. She knew the look that would be on her mother’s face: concern mixed with curiosity and a little bit of pleasure. The straight set line of her lips when she learned he was in the military. The twinkle when she heard he was a doctor.

  Or would they see his family? He had a lot of siblings, that she knew. And his mother, was she still alive?

  “What was Christmas like in your family?”

  “Nothing like you are probably imagining,” he murmured sleepily.

  “Oh, and what am I imagining?” She closed her eyes and nuzzled closer.

  “Something full of family and celebration. Gifts. The like.”

  “And it wasn’t?”

  “Perhaps a little. We would gather for a feast, but the New Year saw more celebration. We would exchange a gift, give to the servants, listen to my sisters sing carols—”

  “Servants? You grew up with servants,” she muttered with disbelief.

  She had always considered herself privileged. At least as far as a middle class military kid could be. She had seen from her time at St Andrews that there was a whole world of wealth that existed in a bubble she would never be able to penetrate, but it was foreign. A fairy tale. Something that didn’t happen to people she knew.

  He cleared his throat. “My upbringing is not terribly interesting.”

  “Oh, I beg to differ.”

  He sniffed in amusement. “My family and I are no longer on speaking terms, so to speak.”

  “Why? Is it because you joined the Army?”

  “It probably has more to do with marrying my wife.”

  “Oh.” Well, that put a damper on things.

  “Tell me about Christmas with your family.”

  “Hmm, well. When I was young, we always tried to go back to my grandparents’. My mom’s family. Her grandparents were still alive when I was very young, and so she and her parents and cousins always gathered together at their house. We would have Christmas Eve together and then spend the evening with everyone on Christmas day, too. My family always takes advantage of the season. We go looking at lights, drink too much eggnog, watch sappy made-for-TV movies. It’s all very rooted in tradition.

  “After my great-grandparents passed, we still would go back when we could, but more frequently my grandparents would come to us. Last Christmas… hmm, I guess it’s this Christmas?” She paused trying to work out the weird time thing, and then giving up. “Anyway, they came to us in Kansas so that they could coo over me and make me feel like I was the luckiest person alive. Well, my grandmother did. My grandfather got really heartfelt for a second and then told me I should rethink my hairstyle.” She smiled, loving the teasing she always got from him.

  “It sounds nice.”

  “It is. Next year, will you come?”

  The words were out of her mouth before she realized what she had done. Making plans with him for quite some time in the future. She could easily imagine him there with all of them; she wanted him there with all of them. With her. She was fairly certain she wanted him there always.

  “I think I would like that,” he said gruffly and pressed a kiss to her hair.

  Not knowing how to act, she pushed herself up. “We should probably get going before the shops get busy.”

  ****

  Alec grabbed the handle before Evie could reach it, and pulled the door open wide so the strap of bells hanging from the inside danced merrily. The silver orbs rang like sleigh bells, and their pleasant jingle was the perfect touch for the cozy little shop. A choir singing old Christmas carols played softly in the background and every empty surface was draped with faux holly and pine boughs.

  Evie stepped in, taking in the high ceilings and not-quite-cluttered displays of imported fig pudding, silver crackers, and tins of Scottish shortbread.

  “Did you remember the sugar this time?” someone with a thick, Scottish accent called out from the back of the shop somewhere, her consonants dropped at the end of each word. “Because if you didn’t, you can march yourself right back out and—oh, hello.”

  A slender woman only a couple of years older than Evie appeared from behind a circular rack housing a large display of women’s tartan skirts. The pencil skirt she wore was of the finest wool, dyed in the red and green plaid of the MacDonald clan, and a gray shawl was draped across her front, pinned with a silver brooch.

  It took her a moment, but Evie recognized her as the woman who had caught her attention at the pub the night before.

  The redhead came forward, a polite smile pulling her lips across model-perfect teeth, but it quickly fell and she came to an abrupt stop. She blinked, her lips parting as her jaw dropped, and for a split-second she looked as if she had seen a ghost.

  The shocked expression was quickly wiped away, and she rushed forward, beaming, to wrap her arms around Evie in a hug meant for relatives and long-lost sorority sisters.

  “Eve! I had no idea what happened to you! I never thought in my wildest dreams—well, perhaps my wildest dreams, considering—but I didn’t know what happened to you. I thought I’d never see you, again.”

  Her kinky, copper hair bushed out from the loose ponytail at the nape of her neck and tickled at Evie’s chin. Evie blew at it awkwardly as she tried to pull away.

  “I, um… Are you Flora? Flora MacDonald?”

  The woman stepped back, her brow creased in confusion and disappointment. “You don’t remember me.” She said it like a statement, not a question. As though she weren’t confused at all, but merely sad. She sighed deeply through her nose and her lips quirked in a pitying sort of smile. She turned her attention to just above Evie’s shoulder.

  She shook her head. “I apologize, I am. Flora, that is.” She held out her hand.

  Alec took a step forward and shook it, but his gaze remained on Evie.

  “Why did you call me Eve? And how do you know who I am?” Her heart played a quick tattoo on her ribs and a pit formed somewhere in the depths of her stomach. The only other person who had called her “Eve” was Iain.

  “When I knew you, that’s what everyone called you. It’s how you introduced yourself.” Flora held out her hands helplessly, her eyebrows coming together and p
ushing toward her hairline.

  “And when did you know me?” Evie’s eyes narrowed.

  The last time someone had claimed to know her and she shared no recollection of them, the cicadas had shrieked in the Kansas heat, a woman appeared from a cloud of crows, and a madman tried to cajole her into standing in a circle of mushrooms.

  Flora let out a breath, ruffling a lock of hair flopping across her forehead to skim her cheek. “You were always suspicious of me,” she murmured forlornly. “I never thought you liked me much. I probably didn’t like you much, either.” At Evie’s lifted eyebrow she gave a knowing little laugh. “I think it’s more where did I know you than when.”

  Evie shot a glance to Alec, but he wasn’t paying her any attention. Instead, he gazed at the shop owner suspiciously, his arms folded across his chest and his feet spread apart. Evie shifted closer to him.

  “You’ve been there.”

  Flora canted her head to the side as she considered Alec and his softly spoken observation. “As have you.”

  Flora sniffed suddenly and pushed past them to the door. She held the handle with one hand and flipped the little sign in the window from Open to Closed. Turning back to them as she let out a heavy breath, she ran the palms of her hands down her thighs as she collected herself. After a beat, a, serene, wistful smile pulled her lips wide.

  “I only opened the shop a little over a month ago,” she began. “It was an odd bit of a whim, but my life had just imploded and I needed something just for me. A few days before opening, the weather was foul, and a man came in with a large box he claimed was left out in the rain.” She cleared her throat and moved forward, suddenly, swiftly, skirting the glass display cases holding a plethora of brooches and kilt pins. “I had many shipments coming in at the time. Antiques and the like for the shop, so I didn’t think anything of it.”

  She turned to a shelf and began pulling things down. Old books, for the most part, and a little box. Flora splayed her hands over the leather covers and looked up at Evie.

  “I simply assumed they were from a lot I had won during an estate sale auction. But then the man… my friend… well, anyway, he and I got close. And then he vanished.”

  “Vanished? What do you mean, ‘vanished?’”

  Flora’s brows knit and she gathered the heaviest of the books up into her arms, pressing it to her chest. “I haven’t worked out how all of this comes into play. He told me his sister owned the shop next door, and when he stopped coming ‘round, I went to her. She told me he had been killed in a training accident.” At Evie’s blank stare Flora added, “He’s a pilot. With the army.”

  Oh, goodie, another one. Evie chanced a glance at Alec from the corner of her eye, but he continued to stare at the other woman.

  “I was in shock. I had no idea what to think, and when I returned back to my shop, it was to a woman. She was beautiful and tall, regal—”

  “We know who she is.” Alec’s, his tone harsher than Evie had ever heard it.

  “So you know her, too?”

  He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing and his lips parting. Evie thought he would answer, but instead he dropped his gaze to the books.

  “Where did you get that?” He nodded to the smallest, a leather-bound notebook, a thin strap of the same tanned hide looped around the cover.

  “From her. They were all from her. I believe, anyway. But she never confessed, so I can’t know for sure.”

  “She had it?”

  Flora shrugged, noncommittal. “I can only assume,” she murmured.

  Evie looked from Alec to the book and back. “What is it?”

  When he didn’t answer, Flora did. “The journal of Lord A. Carlisle.”

  Evie lifted a brow. “Carlisle, eh?” She shot a smirk at Alec and bumped his arm with her elbow. “Any relation?”

  Alec’s jaw ticked and his eyes met her, but he remained tight-lipped.

  Evie’s gut twisted. “Oh.”

  Flora looked back and forth between them, the little crease forming between her eyebrows growing deeper with each passing moment. “Are—?”

  “Please continue,” Alec said, his voice unusually harsh.

  Flora stared at him quizzically for a beat too long and pulled the little book a little closer to herself. “The woman told me he was being held captive, and that if I chose to, I could rescue him. It was odd, I hadn’t known him that long, but his loss… It was a blow. She told me to choose my weapons wisely. I contemplated that for quite awhile, and the next morning, I woke up on a forest floor. I wandered until I came to the summer kingdom, and that’s where I met you, Eve. Evie,” she amended.

  “And what was I doing there?” Evie asked with some amusement. It was all a bit much to take seriously.

  “You were a soldier. You mistook me for the emissary of Arianrhod because of my necklace. I was taken to your king and you were eventually assigned to take me into the winter kingdom as a spy. It was all very… archaic. Another, Iain, was to—”

  “Iain!” Evie leaned into the glass countertop. “He’s the one who tried to kill me!”

  “Kill you?” Flora blinked rapidly and gave a soft, wistful smile. “I always thought Iain was in love with you. I can’t imagine him trying to hurt you.” Her head tilted sympathetically to the side.

  “In love? With me? Well, he sure has a funny way of showing it.”

  An involuntary shiver ran through her, and Evie wrapped her arms around herself. She chanced a glance at Alec, but he remained just as grim as he had been a moment before, his face an unreadable mask. Before they left the hotel, he seemed just as eager to get to the shop as she had been, but standing there, he looked more like a man being tortured.

  She turned her attention back to Flora. “Anyway…”

  Flora looked from Alec to Evie. “You didn’t like me very much. I knew that from the beginning. Everyone assumed I was some sort of witch, and that made you… suspicious. Or perhaps you knew all along I wasn’t who I let you believe I was. My only focus was to get to Owen and get him home. But I didn’t know if he was alive or dead, and I didn’t know what would happen if he tried to cross back with me, but—”

  “Wait. What do you mean alive or dead?” Evie cut in.

  But the bell hanging from the door jingled, breaking through the tenseness hanging between them. Flora gazed beyond Evie, her face brightening with a smile as her cheeks flushed with delight. “Did you remember the sugar this time?”

  Evie turned just as a man approached, two paper cups in hand. She recognized him from the night before, though she’d only caught glimpses of his features are he passed through the shadows. He was classically good looking, his hair golden and shoulders broad, with light eyes only for Flora. They came alive as his gaze landed on her. He might not have been as tall as Alec, but he made up for it in presence. He placed the cups on the counter before turning to look at Evie and Alec.

  Flora came around the display case, tucking herself into his side. “Owen, this is… I’m sorry, I don’t think we exchanged…”

  “Alec.” He draped an arm across Evie’s shoulders. “And this is Evelyn.”

  Evie made a face. “Just Evie is fine.” She held her hand up in an awkward wave as Alec and Owen shook hands.

  “Evie was with me in the Otherworld,” Flora murmured.

  Owen frowned, but turned his gaze to Evie. “Was your hair different?” he asked after a careful perusal.

  Her hand instinctively went to the dark length where it skimmed her shoulders. “I-I don’t remember.”

  His eyebrows quirked just as the edge of his mouth did the same. “I don’t remember much, either. What memories I do have only came through dreams.”

  “I don’t remember anything,” she muttered bitterly, almost accusingly. “Wait. You said you thought he was dead?” She snapped her gaze back up to Flora.

  She nodded. “The best anyone can tell is that he was knocked into unconsciousness. They found him washed up on shore a couple of days later.”
>
  “I was in a coma,” Evie murmured softly to herself. But… was she really? Alec had not seemed convinced when she’d shown up in his emergency room.

  Flora gave her a sad look, but then it quickly vanished. “How-how did you find me if you don’t remember me? Us?”

  Evie’s mouth formed a little “o.” She didn’t even know how to answer the question. Even thinking about the events leading up to learning Flora’s name brought a fresh blush to her cheeks. Best to not bring that up. Where to start, then? And what would Flora do with the information? She turned to look up at Alec for help.

  “Your name and the name of your shop were the only clues Iain left behind,” he said.

  Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. “He knows about the shop? How would he?”

  “How do you think? He does her bidding,” Alec said through clenched teeth.

  Flora quickly shook her head. “No, that can’t be right. She visited the court, but he gave no sign of knowing her. They never spoke. He…” She trailed off at Alec’s cocked brow.

  Alec tossed a look at the small, leather bound book on the counter, and. Evie glanced back to Flora just as Flora’s own gaze fell on it, her eyes narrowing. “I-I never thought to question why, all of it.”

  She looked back to Evie, to Alec. “I don’t know. I don’t know why me or why Owen. Or why you, Evie. But the last time I saw the woman, she said nothing more than other women’s names. Anne Macintosh and Elizabeth Carlisle.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  The square was quiet, few people strolling the worn concrete sidewalks. But most of the parking spots were full and across the green from Flora’s shop a steady stream of visitors entered the county courthouse, an imposing, modern brick building standing sentinel over the turn-of-the-century storefronts. A few young mothers gathered with their small children along the edges of a small playground, and an elderly couple sat feeding pigeons from a wrought iron bench.

  Flora promised to meet them back at the pub for lunch. A new shipment of teas and specialty biscuits arrived not long after Owen, and she explained she wanted to get them inventoried and sorted before Mrs. Dunkirk made her weekly visit later that afternoon. Evie and Alec bowed out, but Evie was left with more questions than she had come with. And by his silence, Evie had a feeling Alec knew more than he was telling her.