Chapter Thirteen

“I’ll be glad to see a coffee shop.” Gwen strove for a light tone as she beat the dust from her gown.

“Not a fan of medieval ale and wine?” he teased, though his eyes were alert to their surroundings.

Gwen glanced up at him curiously, her heart constricting a little at the sight of him. His hair blew around his face in the wind, and his tunic, while not pristine white, was clean enough that the scent of soap wafted in her general direction. The léine danced around his knees, and he loosened his sword from the straps on his back.

“Why are you looking around like you’re expecting an ambush? We’re home…right?” Almost as soon as the words left her mouth, voices called out in Gaelic, and Gwen groaned, “Oh, come on!”

Reilly called back, and Gwen let out a sigh. He gave her a small smile. “Looks like I was sent somewhere other than my planned destination.”

“Which was home, right?”

He nodded, then tucked her protectively behind him as riders approached. They spoke in rapid-fire Gaelic, and it ended with the men on horseback welcoming him with much happiness.

One of the warriors slipped off his horse and handed the reins to Reilly, then joined one of his clansmen on his horse.

“I explained you were fatigued,” Reilly told her as he lifted her onto the animal.

“I’m not!” Gwen replied indignantly. “I can walk!”

“So can I. But as we have no idea where to go, and haven’t quite figured out how far we are from where we might want to be, I thought this would be easier.”

“Oh. Good plan.” She fell silent as he swung himself up easily behind her. The group of men and beasts swung around and began trotting through the thick forest.

Minutes passed before Gwen ventured, “Do you know where we are?”

He had just begun speaking to one of the others when she’d asked, and he said, in English, “Of course.” It came out as ov cairse, his accent thickening due to the switch in languages, and he gently rubbed a circle on her arm. “It’s the when I’m not quite sure about. Worry not, lass. I’ll keep you safe.”

She looked around her with a touch of wonder and resignation. “Is this really what your life is life all the time?”

His chuckle vibrated against her back. “What, you mean walking through a forest, in a time unknown, with a dozen heavily-armed lads speaking in foreign tongues, leading us to a castle?” He paused, then deadpanned, “Aye. You can’t say I don’t know how to show a lady a good time.”

She laughed despite herself. “We’re safe, really?”

“Never safer, except were we sitting in my living room, sipping that coffee you were looking forward to but a few moments ago.”

“Thanks for the reminder,” Gwen muttered. But she wondered if she’d ever again sit in his living room, sipping coffee as though she hadn’t a care in the world.

Things had changed, and she was still reeling from it.

They passed more trees, meadows, and tended fields, and Gwen wondered how Reilly was able to tell any time apart, language aside. Rural Ireland, to her, looked exactly the same, no matter what century she was in. Thousands of shades of green, pretty vistas in every direction, low stone walls, and sheep.

So. Many. Sheep.

Eventually, Gwen caught sight of a castle, rising majestically against the glittering sea behind it, and she sat up straighter.

“Is that…?”

Reilly’s arms tightened around her, sending a thrill through her.

“As I said. Never safer. At least in medieval Ireland.”

A small village came into view, and Gwen saw the tidy village green where she’d danced to a medieval song in the firelight. She remembered the faire, with all its food, music, and activities, and the swell of joy almost overwhelmed her.

That night, so long ago, before everything went to hell in a hand basket, she’d been so convinced that she had a future with the man behind her.

How times have changed, she mused morosely. Now, she’d never been so unsure of anything in her life.

“Well,” she managed after a moment, “I think someone might be disappointed at our arrival.”

“Lady Brianagh is never disappointed in my visits.” Reilly twisted her slightly, so that she was looking back at him. “The laird never dares question my appearances, either.”

“Not them. Claire. You arrived without a gift, and you always bring her a gift.”

He searched her face for a moment before a slow smile spread. “Ah, lass. You underestimate me. Of course I’ve brought the spoiled chit a gift.”

Gwen furrowed her brow. “What’d you bring her?”

He turned her forward again. “A visit with you.”

• • •

“Sir Reilly! Lady Gwen!”

Reilly swung down from his horse and gently lowered Gwen to the ground. Around them, the courtyard buzzed with activity, and amid it all stood a serene, radiant Brianagh MacWilliam.

“Lady MacWilliam,” Reilly intoned, affecting a deep bow, keeping Gwen’s hand in his.

“Oh, shut up already and give me a hug,” she snorted with an impatient smile as she approached them.

Reilly lifted Gwen’s hand and gave her knuckles a soft kiss, then turned and swept Bri into his arms. “Lass. ’Tis good to see you so well.”

“A bit more gray hair than the last time I saw you, but all in all, I couldn’t be happier,” Bri replied, hugging him tightly. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “It’s 1485. And I see Gwen hasn’t aged a day, so I’m guessing it hasn’t been that long since you last visited me?”

“Mere months,” he confirmed.

“Time is a strange thing,” she murmured, releasing him.

A long-suffering sigh sounded from behind him, and Reilly smiled into Brianagh’s amused face as a voice intoned, “O’Malley. Why is it that every time I see you, I must remind you to remove your hands from my wife?”

With a serious expression, Reilly faced Nioclas MacWilliam. “And why is it that every time I see you, you look a wee bit softer than the last time I saw you?”

“You’ll pay for that slight in the lists,” Nick warned, before a small smile graced his handsome features. “Welcome back, cousin.”

“Good to be back, my laird.” Reilly embraced him and they slapped each other on the back. “I’ve brought Lady Gwendolyn, as she was most anxious to visit with Lady Claire. Is she home?”

Nick’s features darkened for a moment. “She is. Is aught all right?”

“We’ll have speech later.”

Nick nodded and they joined Bri and Gwen, who were animatedly discussing Colin and Ellie’s upcoming wedding.

“Come, you must be exhausted from your travels,” Bri declared. “I sent for a bath upon word of your arrival.”

“Your scouts are impressive,” Reilly noted, following them into the grand doorway of the castle. “We made excellent time.”

“New steeds,” Nick explained. “I’ve been breeding faster horses from a pair of Arabians I bought from a trader on the mainland.”

“There will be time for that later,” Bri said gently, laying her hand on her husband’s arm. Her sapphire eyes twinkled. “All I’ve been hearing about for the last three years are these horses, and while I’m sure Ry and Gwen would love to also hear about them, let’s allow them to take a few moments of rest before supper.” To Reilly, she said, “Your room remains unchanged. I’ve put Gwen in the east wing—”

“Nay. She takes the room adjoining mine,” Reilly cut in swiftly.

Bri blinked. “Reilly, you know we can’t do that.”

He firmed his jaw. “Then she stays in my room.”

“O’Malley,” Nick said sharply, “she’s an unwed lass. Have a care for her reputation.”

Reilly remained silent. He knew that reputations were important to the laird’s direct family, and less so for the rest of the clan. He also knew that Nick would never allow Gwen to stay in his room, but Nick didn’t know what Gwen had been through. He didn’t know that she still had nightmares at night, or that the only thing that soothed her in her sleep was his arms.

Even Gwen didn’t realize that.

But he would explain nothing, and, glancing at Bri, knew she understood that truth. She canted her head in agreement and said softly, “We’ll move you to Gwen’s adjoining chamber, then, if that’s amenable to you?” She looked at Gwen questioningly.

“If it’s no trouble,” she replied uncertainly, clearly wondering what had come over him.

Reilly gently took her hand in his. “’Tisn’t any trouble.”

Shafts of light fell across the great hall, catching in Gwen’s eyes. Momentarily lost in the green depths, Reilly snapped back to attention when Bri tapped his arm.

“I think it best if I deliver Gwen to her bath, and you go with Nick.” She lowered her voice. “He’s been worried about Claire lately. She’s been preoccupied. And she’s refused every suitor he’s brought forth. I fear she’s trying to make herself unmarriageable.”

“Is that even a word?” Reilly asked dryly.

“How old is she?” Gwen wondered.

“A score and two.”

A small knot appeared on Gwen’s forehead. “Weren’t you thirty when you married?”

“Twenty-nine,” Brianagh replied matter-of-factly, “but my circumstances were a bit different than Claire’s.”

“Oh, aye. Was the greatest difference how you were so very willing to meet MacWilliam at the altar?” His dry tone remained unchanged.

“It’s a simple thing to ignore him when he prattles on,” Brianagh murmured to Gwen.

“He does make it so easy,” Gwen agreed, a smile playing about her lips.

At Reilly’s narrowed eyes, unable to contain their mirth, the women started laughing.

“You dare tease a warrior?” Nioclas asked Gwen curiously. “Have things changed so much since your last visit?”

“I think I was a little…surprised for the duration of my last visit,” Gwen mused. She slid a glance to Reilly, who still held her hand in his.

“But aye,” Reilly added, his eyes never leaving Gwen’s. “Things have indeed changed.”

“I see,” Bri murmured, delight in her voice. “I cannot believe I have, in my castle, the woman who’s brought Reilly O’Malley to heel.”

“I’m not a dog,” Ry snapped.

“My love, be sure to set guards at the coastline,” she continued, as though he hadn’t spoken.

Nioclas closed his eyes for a moment before asking, “Though I know I’m going to regret asking…why would I do that?”

“For the scores of women sure to throw themselves into the ocean once it’s known he’s no longer available, of course.”

“Brianagh…” Reilly warned, an uncomfortable feeling settling between his shoulder blades.

Gwen stifled a laugh behind her hand.

“Oh, think that’s funny?” he demanded.

Bri fluttered her hand to her chest in an over exaggerated gesture. “Oh, Gwen, the stories I have for you. You know, he used to brag all the time how the lasses adored his—”

“Come, O’Malley,” Nioclas interrupted loudly, “and let’s leave the women to their…”

“Inanities?” Reilly supplied.

“Payback for a dateless teenage experience?” Bri suggested sweetly.

Reilly grit his teeth. “I was keeping you safe from those worthless lads.”

“I appreciate that effort,” Nick put in.

Gwen’s head went from person to person in a desperate attempt to keep up with the fast banter. “Dateless? You began a matchmaking empire, though…”

“She did, because she’s uncommonly clever and can read people very well,” Nioclas boasted.

“Not all people,” Reilly replied smugly.

Bri snorted. “Please. Even had I tried to match you, your stubbornness would’ve ensured that any woman I put forth would’ve had a wonderful time, but no followup. And I knew you well enough that when, at my first truly big wedding—remember? The Bouchement wedding?—you said your life had changed in an inst—”

“Lass, here’s your chamber,” Reilly said hurriedly, pushing open the heavy wooden door.

“What happened at that wedding?” Gwen asked Bri, her eyes going wide as she craned her neck around Reilly’s hulking form.

Reilly gently pushed Gwen into the room. “Bath, then food, then sleep. I daresay we all need it.”

Bri looked uneasily at Reilly, then she nodded slowly. “Aye. Rest from your journey, Lady Gwendolyn.”

Reilly continued, desperate to move the conversation to safer waters, “Look, lass, your bath stands at the ready. Wouldn’t want it to get cold.”

Gwen’s face took on a calculated expression, and he just barely managed not to gulp.

He was a warrior. A man without fear. “Take your bath, lass. We’ll have speech later.”

She threw him one last, searching look, then acquiesced and closed the door.

Brianagh chewed her lip. “I’m missing something.”

“You usually are.”

She canted her head at him. “I’ll figure it out, if you won’t tell me. But I’m on your side, Reilly. I’m always on your side.”

He dragged his hand down his face, then silently marched himself out toward the laird’s solar, Nick following at a more sedate pace.

A reckoning was coming, and he hadn’t a clue how to prepare for it.

• • •

“How is my brother?”

Reilly folded his arms and leaned against the wall of Nioclas’s solar, schooling his features into a mask of inscrutability. “He’s alive and well, living a good life with his lady wife.”

“Any bairns?”

Reilly did smile a little at that. “Aye, she’s carrying their first right now, though they’ve not announced it.”

Nioclas laughed. “That lass, she is amazing.”

Reilly tipped his head in agreement. “Aye. She deserves so much more than what that lout can give her, but she seems happy, so I merely observe, standing ready to rescue her once she comes to her senses.”

Nioclas settled himself on the edge of the desk, a small smile gracing his features. “Ah, but ’tis love. It makes no sense, there’s no direction to it. It simply is.”

“Well, that’s terrifying.”

Nick barked out a laugh. “Though it’s been almost three decades, I well remember the fear I felt when I realized I loved my own sweet wife.” He took stock of Reilly and let out a hearty sigh. “Ah, what I wouldn’t give to be as young as you, lad.”

“Careful what you wish for,” Reilly warned. He pushed off the wall and paced. “Believe it or not, Nick, I want what you have.”

“I’m a lucky man,” Nick agreed immediately. “I’ve a wife whom I love with every breath in my soul, four sons I’ve seen into adulthood, and a daughter who, while trying at times, is more intelligent than anyone I’ve ever known.”

“And you haven’t had to watch them die.”

“Aye, you’ve the right of it. My blessings are great indeed. But yours are as well. ’Twould seem you’re finally beginning your life.”

“My life was to protect Brianagh.”

Nick nodded. “Aye, and grateful does not convey the depths of gratitude I have for your careful attention to her over those years.”

Reilly waved that away. “Since her, I’ve been given no specific task from the Fates. No one to protect, no one to teach.”

Pensively, Nick stroked his chin.

Reilly paced faster. “I’ve no purpose right now, no direction. I’m at a full loss as to what I’m supposed to be doing.”

“Must you be doing something?”

Reilly shrugged. “I’ve known nothing else since the day I was chosen by the Fates. I’ve always had something to do, someone to watch over. But for the last pair of years, I’ve been aimless.”

“Strange, how but a pair of years has passed for you, yet so many more have passed here,” Nioclas murmured softly. “Stranger still, how it continues to give me pains in my head when I overthink it too much.”

“I admit to never having the problem of overthinking anything before,” Reilly grumbled, accepting the cup of ale Nick held out. He took a sip of it and stared into the brew, as if it held the answers to the questions he didn’t know.

“Before?”

Before Gwen. Before he realized that, for the first time, he hadn’t the answers in front of him. He wasn’t certain that the Fates would allow him to live a full life. He wasn’t certain he could convince them to do so. He didn’t know how he and Gwen would make their lives together work, when he was constantly pulled to different times. He wasn’t certain that Gwen would still love him, when she could only have part of him. He wasn’t sure if Gwen could handle growing older, while he remained frozen in time.

He simply wasn’t certain, and that was a first for him. And he had no idea how to deal with it.

He realized he’d spoken aloud when Nick slapped him on the back. “Uncertainty is a difficult thing, cousin. It can eat you alive, turning you from a warrior into a weakling if you let it.”

“I’ve no idea what to do next.”

Nick downed his own ale. “You make a decision, then see it through. And if, when you’re in the midst of seeing it through, you realize that the decision needs to be changed, you change it. You change it. Not Fate. Not circumstances.” He held Reilly’s eyes. “You.”

With a start, Reilly realized how Nioclas had been so powerful for so long. Since the tender age of twelve, Nick had shouldered more responsibility than anyone Reilly knew, save himself. He’d matured quickly, then sharpened into a clever, compassionate clan laird.

Nick had led a mostly peaceful existence since his marriage began, yet his clansmen were still battle-ready, willing to die to defend their laird. Reilly heard them even now, the sounds of steel on steel from the lists a faint sound through the alcove window. Nioclas ensured that those around him knew things could change in an instant, and he was ready for that instant, whenever it may happen.

Living a life of peace did not make Laird MacWilliam complacent; nay, it only made him profoundly grateful for what he’d worked to achieve, and it made his clansmen eager to preserve it. They had something to fight for.

Reilly understood, with a sudden clarity, that he also had something to fight for, were he brave enough to march into the fray without knowing the final outcome.

“Aye,” he said slowly, gazing up at the tapestry his mother created so many years ago. The Fates certainly marred the fabric of time in whatever ways pleased them. Perhaps, Reilly mused, it was time for him to mar his own tapestry. He handed Nick his cup. “’Tis about time I took my life in my own hands.”

“You might fail.”

“Thanks for the confidence.”

Nick didn’t look perturbed. “It’s a fact we all must face at some point in our lives, Reilly. ’Tis only then that we begin to truly live.”

“The Americans have a saying. Failure is not an option. And it isn’t, not now, not with Gwen.”

“Ah. So we are talking about her.”

Reilly chuckled. Nick’s nonchalance fooled no one. “I claimed her to the Fates. So it’s out there, swirling about the universe.”

“The Fates aren’t the ones who make this decision, O’Malley. ’Tis but you and your lady love. You have to give her the choice. Look at what happened to Colin. The fool almost lost his soul mate because he was trying to make the decision for her.”

“I don’t want to make the decision for her,” he admitted, shoving his hands through his hair. “But her happiness is more important. For a long time, I went back and forth. Do I let her go, and allow her to live a lifetime of peace with another man? Do I push her into his arms, and revel in the fact that she doesn’t have to watch me watch her die, or wake up to a cold bed because I’ve been called away for some mission?” He stopped and drew a deep breath, then looked at Nick. “I’d never been so undecided about anything before. Every path had been clearly marked out. I knew the consequences of my actions before I took them. But in this? I’ve no idea which way is up, nor down.”

“Blind faith,” Nick repeated, although his tone was one of understanding. “You must trust in something, O’Malley. May as well make it love.”

“Love seems a risky trade.”

“Oh, ’tis. But the riches of it can be worth more than you could ever imagine.”

• • •

Gwen separated the strands of her hair, hoping it would dry faster in front of the fire. A lady’s maid laid out a beautiful gown of deep navy with silver trim.

The MacWilliam colors.

The chambermaid helped Gwen into a long white nightgown, then bobbed a curtsy before leaving Gwen with her thoughts.

Easing back onto the small-backed stool, Gwen tried to relax her shoulders. The window in her chamber showed night had fallen in full.

As she looked around the luxurious chamber, she admitted to being grateful for accommodations such as this. The large, four-poster bed had its curtains drawn back, showcasing the sumptuous furs and coverings that looked soft enough to bury into on a cold night.

And, being that they were in Ireland, in October, the nights weren’t exactly tropical.

She knew from experience that the feather and straw mattresses in the MacWilliam castle were free of vermin and fleas; a luxury, to be sure. And she dragged her bare toe over the uneven but smooth stone on the floor, marveling that they didn’t feel gritty. When she was in the castle last, Reilly had told her many stories of staying in various places where the floors were covered in rushes filled with rotting foodstuffs and the mattresses were so infested with fleas that the stables were a preferable chamber in which to pass the night.

Brianagh had very high and exacting standards, and though the chambermaids might grumble about the extra work, they all slept in fine beds, ate good food, practiced rather twenty-first century hygiene habits, and were healthier than anyone had a right to be in the Middle Ages.

A gentle knock on her door revealed Brianagh, carrying a tray of food. “I thought you might be hungry. Time traveling tends to do that to a person.”

“Sorry I missed supper.” Gwen smiled at the trencher, which was laden with meat, vegetables, and bread. “I didn’t really care to socialize.”

Bri filled her cup with wine and nodded her head. “Reilly won’t tell me what’s going on. And you don’t have to, either. But you’re among friends here. So you do whatever it is you need to do.”

“Thanks.” Gwen chewed thoughtfully. “What makes a good match, Bri?”

“Well,” she replied slowly, “it depends on the goals of each person. Sometimes, it’s for a life partner. That’s what I specialized in. But there are other matches, too, like when two people marry for legalities such as insurance purposes.”

Gwen toyed with the cup. “What if one person loves the other person more?”

Bri’s eyebrows knit together. “That’s part of any relationship, really. Can you give me an example?”

Gwen rubbed her temples. “I have two scenarios for you. In the first, the woman loves a man. She’s loved him for as long as she’s known him, but he loves another woman—but that second woman is, for all intents and purposes, out of reach of that man, so he settles for the woman who is there, and who does love him.”

“Ah. So this woman, she loves him despite his love for another woman?” Bri asked.

“Unfortunately.”

“Hmm. What’s the second scenario?”

“That same woman is in the reverse situation. A man loves her very much, but she loves another. But the man who loves her can offer her everything the one she loves cannot. Stability, a home, children. Normalcy.”

“Ah. Normalcy is a variable term,” Bri said thoughtfully. “It means something different to everyone. But for this woman, that’s what she wants, yes? In a perfect world, she would have the man she loves, in the life she envisions for herself.”

“The world is far from perfect.”

“Then perhaps it’s time for her to redefine what normalcy is, or what perfect is.” Brianagh smiled softly at Gwen. “But the reality is, she has to determine what will be the best choice for herself long-term. Will she grow to resent the man she loves, when she believes his heart is with another? Or would she be content in the knowledge that he chose to be with her, despite loving someone else, no matter how far out of reach she is? Only the person deciding could know the answer to that.”

“Or,” Gwen said glumly, “she knows when to cut her losses and try to love the man who loves her.”

“And that is certainly possible,” Bri agreed. “Love is as much a choice as anything. That fiery passion that consumes people is often mistaken for love. But you and I both know that’s naught more than lust. And lust is intense, but it burns out over time. Love is what’s behind that emotion. It’s in the choices you make. It’s your love’s best interests, no matter the personal cost to yourself. It’s in the words you speak to him, the way he cares for you when you’re sick, the sweetness in everyday gestures. That’s love. And if it’s true love, the kind that lasts forever, the lust doesn’t actually burn out. It simmers, always there, but no longer as consuming as it once was. It can easily be stoked into flames again, but then it’s the knowledge of what awaits when those flames calm again. And they will calm.”

“What did you mean, that one person loves another more, being a part of a relationship?”

“Well,” Bri mused, her cobalt eyes twinkling in the firelight, “the thing many people don’t understand is that love is a give-and-take. There will be times when you want to wring your husband’s neck, or he yours. In those moments, during those arguments that last for longer than either of you care to admit, one of you has to make the choice to love the other enough for both of you, until the other person regains his or her balance. And it changes throughout the years. The secret is to never fall out of love at the same time.”

Gwen pushed the trencher away and stared at the dancing flames. “So you think it’s possible to grow to love someone?”

“Absolutely.”

“Even if your heart belongs to another?”

Brianagh reached over and touched Gwen’s arm. “Listen closely Gwen, for this advice comes not from the matchmaker, but from the old married woman in front of you. For the man who loves the woman more—does he love her enough for the both of them right now? And does she think that she could truly grow to love him out of mutual respect and tender feelings?”

“I think she does,” Gwen whispered.

“That’s good. But the other scenario, the woman loving the man enough for the both of them, that doesn’t necessarily work in this case, does it? Because,” she guessed, “the man in this case has a soul mate who possibly isn’t the woman who loves him so desperately. The man might be tied to another person, never to be fully happy with anyone but her, whomever she would be. Is that correct?”

Gwen nodded miserably.

Brianagh got up and wrapped her arms around Gwen; it was only then that Gwen felt her own tears.

“I wish I could help you with this,” Brianagh murmured, “but only you can make the decision, Gwendolyn.”

“Do you know who his soul mate is?” Gwen asked, half-hoping Bri would say no.

“It wouldn’t matter if I did. The words have to come from Reilly, not me. And I think you know that.”

“I asked him if it was me.”

Bri pulled back. “That was very brave of you.”

Gwen swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Was it? It didn’t feel brave.”

“Of course it was brave. Reilly doesn’t lie, so you know you would be getting the truth from him.”

“He refused to answer me.”

Bri’s face fell, sadness eclipsing her. “Oh, Gwen. I’m…”

“I know,” Gwen whispered. “Me too.”

“What will you do?”

Gwen laughed miserably. “I have no idea.”