“You’ve waited for me? Grace, how did you even know it was me? Or about a past life? I don’t understand,” Dylan said, and she saw his walls going up.
“You gave me a gift, in the cove, of your trust,” Grace said, reaching up to link her fingers with his. “Will you trust me once more? To show you something?”
“Yes, I suppose,” Dylan said, and she knew he was uncomfortable.
“You see, I started dreaming of you, once I’d grown into a woman. It was the same dream, over and over, for years. It was of us – us in another time, but our souls together. Every night, I’d dream of the most wonderful time with you – these stolen moments – and every night you’d promise me we had a love that transcended all time,” Grace said. She wasn’t able to bring herself to tell him that he had been murdered and taken from her. “Do you know where the dreams were set?”
Dylan just shook his head, his eyes wary.
“The picture of the cottage you painted. That was our home, for but a moment in time, and we loved each other fiercely there,” Grace said, smiling at him, hopeful he’d see the connection.
“But how?” Dylan asked, his brain still searching for a logical answer. “I think I just painted that from …” He stopped.
“From a dream you had,” Grace finished for him.
“I don’t know if I can believe this. I’m still trying to wrap my head around everything over the past few days,” Dylan said. “Please know I’m not dismissing you. It’s just… a lot to process.”
“I can show you,” Grace whispered.
“You can time travel too?” Dylan exclaimed.
Grace chuckled against his chest, amused with him. “No, I can dreamwalk with you. Would you come with me? In our dreams?” Grace asked. “And I’ll show you.”
Dylan thought for a moment, and then nodded, pressing a kiss to her head.
“If it’s a dreamwalk the lass wants, it’s a dreamwalk she gets.”
Chapter 39
This time, when she walked up to him on the beach where he fished, it was as if they were in the now.
“Grace.”
“Dylan,” Grace said, smiling up at him and then sweeping her arms around to encompass the beach, the little stone cottage, and the wonderful privacy they had.
“You’re so beautiful,” Dylan said, wading from the water and smiling down at her. “I like those breeches on you.”
“Thank you, my handsome man,” Grace said and laughed when he swept her into his arms, carrying her into the cottage where he proceeded to love her the way her soul ached for. Afterward, curled in his arms, she looked up at him.
“I don’t understand my feelings,” Dylan said, surprising her. Reaching up, Grace smoothed his hair back from this forehead and searched his achingly blue eyes.
“How so?”
“If this is supposed to be the happiest moment in my life, with a love that transcends all time, why do I feel…” Dylan sighed, frustrated, and narrowed his eyes as he searched for the word. “…sad? A part of me, being here in this moment with you, feels incredibly sad. Why is that? It just doesn’t make sense to me.” He absently pressed a kiss to her forehead, pulling her closer as his mind sought the answers that he knew she had.
“Because you’ve asked – and because I’ve told you that you can trust me – I’ll show you. But, Dylan, please remember our love. Here in this moment. Because what I show you next will be traumatic. I’ve had to relive it, and I hate that you will now, too,” Grace said, her eyes filling with tears. But he needed to know the full story if he was to understand the depth of her love for him.
“It’s going to be bad, isn’t it?” Dylan whispered.
“Yes,” Grace said, a sob catching in her throat.
“Then let me hold you, just like this, for a moment longer. Just a moment. And then I’ll be ready to face what may come,” Dylan said. Grace breathed his scent in, praying they would make it through what would happen next – on the other side, in their world now – and closed her eyes.
It was as bad as she had expected it would be, even more so reliving it a second time – this time with Dylan in the now – and seeing him fall. The blood – oh, the blood seemed to seep into her soul as she sobbed once more for their loss.
When she woke, Dylan was gone.
Chapter 40
Grace refused to wallow. Even though she’d had to relive the murder of her love in her dream once more, it had reminded her just how strong she was. Getting out of bed, she padded into the kitchen to put tea on.
“Grace.”
Grace yelped, holding a hand to her heart, and turned to where Dylan sat. He had returned the rocking chair to the spot in front of the fireplace.
“I… I thought you’d gone,” Grace said, a hopeful smile blooming on her face. Until she took in the fact that he was fully dressed, shoes on, car keys in hand.
“I am going,” Dylan said. Shame flitted briefly across his face before he looked away from her face, obviously not interested in seeing the pain etched there.
“Love ’em and leave ’em type of guy, are ya?” Grace said lightly, crossing her arms over her chest. Dylan rose and came to stand before her.
“No, and if it seems that way I apologize. I certainly never would have slept with you if I had known all… everything you’ve showed me,” Dylan said, his voice stiff.
“I’m not sure I’m following. You’re saying that, had you known we were lovers in a past life, you wouldn’t have loved me in this one?” Grace said, fire flashing in her eyes.
“It just feels… I don’t like how this makes me feel,” Dylan said, running a palm over his face and beginning to pace. “It’s like I have no choice. That this was all predestined for me or something. It makes me feel powerless. As if all my life choices haven’t really been my own and somehow I’ve been led here, like some sort of puppet, to fulfill some kind of magickal destiny that I don’t even have a say in.”
“You’re saying you think I just magicked your arse here to fulfill what I think is our destiny?” Grace said, carefully enunciating the words as rage filled her. The nerve of this man.
“I just feel like this was all decided for me. Where’s my say? Nothing has gone my way since I’ve met you. I feel completely out of control, in over my head, and now I’ve learned this. How do you think it made me feel? Having to relive my own death like that? Having to lose you and the love I felt for you?” Dylan all but shouted, his face traumatized.
“How do you think it made me feel, watching you die like that? Over and over?” Grace parried.
“I don’t know, Grace. You haven’t told me. How does it make you feel?”
“Horrible! I love you and I’m left with having to repeat that in my head as I sleep each night,” Grace said, tears spiking.
“No, Grace, that’s where the confusion seems to lie. You loved that man, centuries ago. You don’t love this man. You’re just transposing your expectations of another time on me,” Dylan spit out.
“That’s a lie. I’ve tried not to love you. I pushed you away, did I not? I told you to leave me alone. You kept showing up. I didn’t manufacture any of this. I didn’t want to love like that again, don’t you see? I don’t know if I can bear being that vulnerable once again,” Grace sobbed, furious that he couldn’t see what was right in front of him.
What he was walking away from.
“I don’t like being vulnerable either. And I certainly don’t like feeling like I’ve been a pawn in some magickal game,” Dylan said.
“You’re not a pawn. You’ve had free will all along. I didn’t have a say in when or how I would see you in this life,” Grace said, tears slipping down her cheeks. Rosie came over and sat her bum on Grace’s feet, whining a little at her tears.
“It feels like I have no say in anything. I don’t like this, Grace. I don’t want to feel all this, or think that my choice has been taken away,” Dylan said, “That I can’t leave or choose my own path.”
Unbearably tired, her
heart broken into pieces once more, Grace pointed to the door.
“There’s the door,” Grace said, ever so softly.
When he left, without another word, Grace slipped to the floor and wrapped her arms around Rosie, crying until she couldn’t cry anymore.
Eventually she wiped her cheeks and stood, and she vowed she would never let anyone make her feel this way again. For in the end, it had been her who’d been the pawn all along. Even knowing how much it would hurt to love Dylan and lose him again in this lifetime, she still hadn’t built her walls high enough.
A lesson she wouldn’t have to learn again.
Chapter 41
Dylan found his mother kneeling in the garden, humming a little as her cat batted at one of the flowers she was planting.
“Now, we’ve discussed this. You may look, but don’t touch. These are not your play toys. If I see you digging these up, I’m not feeding you anymore. You’ll be left to fend for yourself.”
The fat orange tabby rolled on its back and looked up at Catherine, a picture of chubby innocence. Dylan didn’t think it would hurt the cat all that much to miss a meal here or there.
“Mum,” Dylan said, and had Catherine bouncing back on her heels, her hand at her heart.
“Dylan! Oh my, I wasn’t expecting you. Are you home already? Oh, honey, I’ve missed you,” Catherine said, bounding to him. A small woman with dancing blue eyes, she always greeted him with enthusiasm, much as she greeted anything in life. In some respects she had always reminded him a bit of a fairy – bouncing here to there with verve and enthusiasm.
“Is Dad home too?”
“He’s gone for a golf weekend with the boys. I don’t blame him, with this weather. It’s been a few weeks since we’ve seen the sun.” Catherine chattered away, pulling him by his hand into the house. His parents lived in a lovely two-story farm house, something Dylan’s father still liked to grumble about, but which had completely charmed Catherine when she’d first seen it. Now, she had turned it into a showcase, with stunning gardens, a little hobby farm, and even an area for lawn games. Seeing as how she neatly beat his father at bocce ball every time they played, Dylan figured Catherine was coming out on top.
“Let me get the kettle on,” Catherine called over her shoulder. He wound his way through a hodgepodge of furniture, intermixed with pots of flowers that somehow all made sense together, and into the bright kitchen with a beautiful marble center island. Just because it was an eighteenth-century farmhouse didn’t mean she couldn’t have modern tastes, Catherine had reasoned, and had immediately renovated the kitchen to make it a modern and welcoming spot for the home. Many a serious conversation had been held at the counter, and Dylan pulled out a stool, dropping into it and propping his face on his hands as he watched his mother putter around the kitchen, delighted he was home.
When she turned with a plate of biscuits and really looked at his face, she paused.
“Oh honey, tell me what’s wrong. Is it the mermaid?”
“How’d you know?” Dylan asked.
“I just had a feeling. Tell me everything,” Catherine said, putting the tea on to steep and pulling up a stool next to him.
So he did. By the time he had finished, Catherine had gone through her tea and was opening a bottle of wine.
“I think a nice glass in the garden while the sun goes down, no?” Catherine asked, and Dylan smiled at her. When he was with his mom, it seemed there was no problem that couldn’t be solved over wine and a visit to her flowers.
Dylan carried their glasses to one of his favorite nooks of the garden, where vines twisted here and there. He headed for the lovely little mosaic table with its two chairs, and the fat cat followed them, presumably hoping they carried more biscuits with them.
“Sláinte,” Catherine said, and they clinked glasses. Dylan smiled at her and waited to hear what she had to say.
“I have to say I’m a bit ashamed to know that I’ve raised a complete idiot for a son,” Catherine began, pinning him with a look. Dylan choked on his wine as he looked at her in shock.
“I’m getting a little tired of being referred to as an idiot,” Dylan said, his voice steely, “In other parts of this country people seem to regard me quite highly for my intelligence and business acumen.”
“Oh sure, you’ve plenty of smarts there.” Catherine waved all his accomplishments away with a little flicking motion of her hand. “But when it comes to affairs of the heart? You’re not very bright.”
“I don’t think you’re being very fair, Mum,” Dylan said, biting out his words. “Can’t you understand what a shock this has all been to me? It’s changed my life – my perception of the world as I know it – and left me feeling like I have no understanding of anything.”
“I think that’s a very apt description of love,” Catherine said, nodding approvingly at him. “Perhaps you’re not so dumb after all.”
“I’m not… I wasn’t talking about love.” Dylan rose, frustrated, and began to pace in front of her. “I was talking about magick and destiny, and all this other stuff.”
“And you don’t think love is magick?” Catherine parried.
“Well, no, not really. I mean, it can feel magickal, I suppose, but it’s not, like, real-life magick,” Dylan said.
“Then you don’t really understand love. It can move mountains, my dear.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Dylan said, upset with it all.
“Oh, my darling, precise, and logical son. I so wished this for you,” Catherine laughed.
“You wished for me to be miserable?” Dylan asked, turning to glare at her.
“I wished for you to have magick in your life. Love and laughter, frustration and fights, and the essence of being truly alive. The fact that Grace has real magick is only icing on the cake, as far as I’m concerned. How lucky are you to have found a woman so amazing as that?” Catherine asked softly, her eyes full of love for him.
“And that’s it? Just accept it all and fall neatly in line with what destiny wants for us?” Dylan asked, stubborn to the end.
“It’s not what destiny wants,” Catherine said. “Don’t you see? It’s what you want. You’re here, aren’t you? You’ve left your woman behind, devastated. And from the sounds of it, I doubt she’ll be waiting around for you to come back, so again, I’ll reiterate my assessment of your intelligence. But nobody is telling you what do, Dylan. Only you can listen to your heart and trust what you want. So what is it?”
“I want to be with her,” Dylan said automatically, surprised to realize it was completely and inexplicably true.
“Then why did you leave her behind?” Catherine asked.
“I… aww, shite. Because I’m an idiot,” Dylan said, raking his hand through his hair.
“I hope you know how to grovel, because I suspect this beautiful pirate queen of yours will take no prisoners,” Catherine called after him, but Dylan was already racing to his car, the panic of what he might be losing etched on his face.
Catherine looked down at the fat cat who brushed against her leg.
“I think that went well, don’t you?”
In response, the cat bit a flower and Catherine narrowed her eyes at him.
“I see someone doesn’t want dinner.”
Chapter 42
“This has been the best gift ever,” Fi said as they sipped a mimosa, the sparkling blue waters of the Mediterranean shimmering before them.
After Dylan had left, Grace had needed an out. At first, she’d briefly considered going to find the cottage where her dreams had been shattered. But that seemed too self-indulgent, or perhaps morose, so instead she’d caved to Fi’s demands that she visit her in Italy. Rosie had happily gone off with Margaret and Sean, who were staying for a week at Keelin and Flynn’s house just over from the cottage. Her work for New York was currently at a standstill, as the products had all been shipped. With nothing to do but mope, Grace couldn’t refuse Fi’s offer of a holiday.
It had been exactly what she�
��d needed.
Grace and Fi had spent the week having a proper girls’ holiday, with boat rides on the water and afternoons spent laughing with charming Italian men who were born to flirt. Grace had shopped in all the little boutiques, picking up anything her heart desired, from pretty dangly azure earrings to a deliciously soft leather purse. And a pair of shoes or two. It would be a crime to go to Italy and not buy some shoes, Grace had reasoned, running her hand over the butter-soft leather of her new boots.
Fi had done her best to hook Grace up with every handsome man who crossed her path, but Grace wasn’t feeling it. Finally, they had a day of just lounging by the water, and Fi had decided enough was enough.
“You really love him, don’t you?” Fi asked, peering at her through polka-dot sunglasses. They were stretched on sun chaises – it was still a little chilly in the season, but warmer than in Ireland. The garden was charming, with climbing vines, a low stone wall, and a breathtaking view of the water. So long as Grace could see the water, she was soothed.
“Aye, I do.”
“I thought so. I kind of did a thing. I didn’t mean to. Mum yells at me to be better about it,” Fi said, nervously drumming her fingers on her leg. Grace glared at her pixie of a friend.
“What did you do?”
“I kind of peeked in your thoughts. I knew how much you loved him. But I had to be sure,” Fi said.
“Why did you have to be sure, Fi? Couldn’t I have told you in my own time? You know how I feel about that. I try to be good with you,” Grace grumbled. Though she couldn’t fully read minds, Grace could pick up on flashes here and there, but she always tried to be respectful of her friends.
“I know. It’s just that… I’ve never seen you this distraught. I know you’ve been putting on a front for me, trying to have fun. But I can tell you just want to be home. With him,” Fi said.
Wild Irish Grace: The Mystic Cove Series, Book 7 Page 17