“Thank you for lying. I’m exhausted, and I haven’t lost much of the baby weight yet. Conan is still waking every three or four hours at night. All the baby books say he should settle at around three months, so we have a few weeks to go before we get a decent night’s sleep.” She yawned. “We hope he settles into a routine then.”
Grayce placed the burp cloth over her shoulder and accepted her darling nephew from his mother. Draping the sleepy little guy over the cloth, she patted his tiny back. Leaning back with Conan’s soft, warm weight against her, Grayce closed her eyes and rubbed her cheek against his sweet, downy head.
“You’re having a tough time,” Regan said, her tone gentle.
Grayce sighed. “Never could hide anything from you.”
“The crowd downstairs?”
She nodded. “That and perpetual anxiety.”
“Still worried about the lack of visions?”
“Yes, and I’m struggling with jealousy,” she admitted. “You and Fáelán are so obviously happy and in love, and now you’re a family of three.” Conan chose that moment to burp and spit up a dribble of curdled milk onto the cloth. She dabbed at his rosebud mouth with a corner of the flannel. “I’ll never have what you have.” Self-pity once again clogged her throat, and that spiraled into self-loathing.
“Don’t say never, Grayce. You don’t know what the future holds for you.”
“You don’t know what the future holds for me either. What I do know is that I need some me time. Traveling with Mom, Dad and Meredith wears on my nerves. You know how they are, all into ‘our specialness, and the our-gifts-are-meant-to-be-shared’ bullshit. God, I love them, but sometimes they suck the happy right out of me.”
“You’re welcome to take one of our cars. Hike along the bluffs, pack a lunch and spend an entire day doing whatever you want.”
“I’m sold. Thanks,” Grayce said. “I think I’ll hike in the Comeragh Mountains. I hear the views are fantastic. Or maybe I’ll take a drive to River Blackwater and hike the trails there.”
“Somebody has been reading their tourism guidebooks,” Regan teased.
Grayce moved the now sleeping Conan to the crook of her arm and ran a fingertip over his velvety cheek. He smiled in his sleep, and she couldn’t help but smile in response. “See? I knew if I spent a little time with my favorite older sister and my nephew, I’d feel better.”
“As your only older sister, I’m glad I could help.”
“Hey, I didn’t see Boann at the christening. Isn’t she here?”
“No, and don’t bring her up with Fáelán. He’s upset. Boann’s grandfather, King Lir Beneath the Sea, is putting the thumb screws to her regarding her involvement with mortals. She’s only allowed to visit us when no one else is around.”
“That’s too bad. I really like her.” Plus, the half-fae princess might know whether or not Grayce’s visions were gone for good. If not, Boann might know how to make them go away once and for all.
“It’s been difficult on all of us. After all the centuries Morrigan kept Boann from Fáelán, she finally has a family, and she’s become attached. She adores Conan. I know she wanted to be at his christening.” Regan rose from the rocking chair and grabbed the baby monitor. “Let’s put him down for his nap, so we can get something to eat. I’m starving.”
Now that her insides were no longer so tightly knotted, Grayce could definitely eat. “Let’s. I do love listening to your in-laws talk. That wonderful Irish lilt, you know?”
“I do know.” She grinned. “If we’re lucky, Fáelán will tell us a story today. Just wait. You’re going to be spellbound.”
“Will his story involve boasting?”
“Probably. Once a member of Fionn MacCumhaill’s elite Fianna, always a Fiann.”
“Great. I’ll have a reason to bust his chops.” Grayce placed little Conan in his bassinet. She followed her sister downstairs, feeling more settled than she had since arriving in Ireland. Tomorrow she’d pack a lunch, a few bottles of water and hike in the Comeragh Mountains. Surely that would lift her spirits, and her spirits surely needed lifting.
It took two hours of uphill trekking to reach Mahon Falls, situated in the Comeragh Mountains of County Waterford, and by then sweat beaded Grayce’s brow and dampened her shirt. The river cascaded over massive steps of rock from a distant peak above. The power and the roar of the swiftly moving water held her spellbound, and she stilled for several moments to watch.
She took a deep breath as her heartbeat and breathing slowed to normal. Mist from the falls drifted over her, cooling her overheated face as she took in the grandeur. Her empty stomach grumbled, and her muscles ached from exertion.
Grayce scanned the area and found a grassy patch in front of a flat-sided boulder where she could sit in the sun and eat the brunch leftovers she’d packed. Here by the falls she could just be for a while. She had nowhere she had to go and nothing she had to do.
Picking her way carefully through the rocky terrain, she made her way to her chosen spot. There she dropped her backpack to the ground and sat on the grass. Her stomach rumbled again as she unzipped her pack and fished around for the plastic container holding her lunch.
She leaned back against the sun-warmed boulder and listened to the hypnotic roar of the falls. She’d just finished a goat-cheese and fig tart, when the hard surface supporting her back disappeared.
“Ack!” she yelped, tossing the plastic container in her hands. She tried to grab onto something as she tumbled backward into darkness. Half-slipping, half-tumbling, she hurtled down a wet, muddy tunnel, scrabbling blindly for anything she could grip to stop her bone-jarring descent.
Fear and confusion choked her. The light-filled opening at the end grew larger the closer she got. A fingernail tore painfully as she tried to grasp hold of something, anything to stop her descent. Oh God. What if she flew out over a cliff?
The tunnel spit her out, and she landed facedown in a patch of long, scratchy grass. She groaned as shock and pain throbbed through her entire body. Had she fallen asleep and this was a nightmare, or was she caught in a vision unlike any she’d ever experienced before? Damn, but the burning sting from her scrapes was all too real.
Dogs barked nearby, and she flinched, too beat up to move away. The next instant, cold noses snuffled and nudged at her. A deep masculine voice spoke firmly in Irish, and the dogs whined and backed off.
A pair of leather moccasin-style footwear and suede leggings came into view, that and two sets of border collie brown eyes fixed upon her. She also glimpsed the bottom half of a
longsword in its scabbard. Her heart pounded, and disbelief reverberated throughout her entire being. No one walked around with a longsword strapped to their waists. A rifle while out hunting, maybe, but not a sword. What the hell just happened, and where the hell am I?
“Are ye hurt, lassie?”
Dumbest question ever uttered in the history of mankind. Hell yes, she was hurt. She nodded slightly.
“Can ye stand? Have ye any broken bones?” the smooth baritone voice asked.
The bright sun prevented her from looking up at the man looming over her. Somewhere along the way, she’d lost her sunglasses and her cap. Shit. Her backpack holding the dessert bars and her water bottle were lost to her too. She really wanted that lemon bar right now. Funny how shock affected one’s thinking.
Every inch of her throbbed like a thumb pounded by a sledgehammer. Her skinned knees and elbows, scraped palms, and torn fingernail burned like hell. She went slack and closed her eyes against the shock, against the unreality of whatever she’d fallen into. If she kept her eyes closed long enough, she’d wake up from this vision-nightmare. She’d trek—downhill this time—to her brother-in-law’s Mini Cooper, eating all the yummy dessert bars along the way.
Once she reached Regan’s house, she’d treat herself to a nice, long, hot soak. Later she’d sit down to dinner with her family and tell them all about her bizarre, painful, very bad dream.
Ge
ntle poking and prodding of her legs and arms commenced. She tried to move away, but then the figment of her imagination slid his hands under her armpits and lifted her to standing. Why wasn’t this man as stunned to find her facedown on the ground as she was to find him standing over her?
“’Tis sorry I am for what has befallen ye.” He held her hands, palms up. “Your scrapes are not so bad.”
“Not so bad?” She snorted.
“Will ye not open your eyes, lassie?”
Grayce shook her head emphatically. To open her eyes meant acknowledging her surreal situation. Not ready. A deep, masculine chuckle resonated through her.
“Ah, well, I’ll lead ye then. My ma will have a salve to soothe these scrapes.”
“What the hell just happened?” she demanded, not at all pleased he found her amusing. “Where the hell am I?”
“Ye are in na Gleannta Bhfolach, The Hidden Vales. I am called Brian MacSloan of na Baiscne clan. What might ye be called?”
BREE-uhn of nuh Bask-nuh? Her pulse pounded hard enough to echo inside her skull. She swallowed, although her mouth had gone so dry there really wasn’t anything there worth the effort. Hadn’t Regan told her Fáelán came from an ancient clan … the Baiscne, which no longer existed?
Grayce tried to breathe through a new wave of panic. She opened her eyes and gasped. The man before her had to be a dream, because men like him only existed in movies and on magazine covers where they were photoshopped and airbrushed to perfection.
Thick chestnut hair shot through with threads of polished copper fell to his shoulders in shiny waves. His face—oh, man—his finely sculpted handsome face was the stuff of lonely-girl fantasies everywhere. Deep brown eyes shining with keen intelligence assessed her.
His broad shoulders and chest were adorned in an embroidered sleeveless woolen tunic reaching mid-thigh, worn over a long-sleeved linen shirt that tied at the throat. The wool had been dyed an earthy green, and the embroidery formed russet and dark-brown Celtic knots around the hem and neck opening. Besides the sword hanging from his hips, he carried a leather quiver strapped to his back, filled with an unstrung bow and at least a dozen arrows.
Regan had described what Fáelán had been wearing when she’d first met the third-century warrior at Newgrange. Moccasin-like shoes. Check. Suede leggings. Check. Tunic and cloak. Check on the tunic, but no cloak. But then the air carried only a slight chill today, and the sun was warm.
Her sister Regan had traveled back through time to the third century to prevent Fáelán from being cursed by Morrigan, an evil faerie princess. Third century. Denial shrieked through Grayce’s brain. She knew time travel could happen, but not to her.
She eyed his weapons. “Have I …” Her voice came out a raspy squeak. She cleared her throat. She couldn’t ask if she’d fallen through time, could she? He’d think she’d gone off her rails. What if this wasn’t a dream, and she was in the middle of a psychotic break with reality? Visions gone, replaced by insanity?
He studied her blue, spiky hair and the piercings along her ears, moving to the stud through her eyebrow. In fact, he seemed to be taking inventory from the top of her pounding head to her sturdy hiking boots and back to her face again. There his gaze lingered on her mouth.
“What might ye be called, fair one?”
Fair one? He didn’t seem at all surprised to find her lying on the ground. Was he responsible for her fall through that hellish tunnel? He still held her hands in his. She snatched them back and swiveled around to look for the tunnel she’d fallen through. She’d climb back up to her own time—or back to sanity—even if it took the rest of the day. She sucked in a sharp breath, and her stomach dropped. “Where did it go?”
“Where did what go?”
“The tunnel I fell through.” On unsteady, aching legs she approached the cliff of solid rock and kicked the wall. “Shit.” Tears spilled from her eyes. Every inch of her hurt, and to top it all off, she was covered in mud and her clothes had torn. Misery sapped her will to stand. She sank to the ground and hugged her knees to her chest. Dropping her forehead to her arms, Grayce rocked herself back and forth. “This can’t be happening,” she sobbed.
The next thing she knew, she was being hoisted into the powerful arms of the stranger. “Put me down,” she wailed and squirmed.
“I wish only to offer aid and to bring ye to safety.” He tightened his hold. “Ye’ve suffered a great shock and cannot even stand on your own two feet, lassie.”
“No shit.” She sniffed and swiped the backs of her hands over her cheeks. Sensing his sincerity, his lack of threat to her, she gave in to the relief of being held. “I don’t know where or when this is, and I don’t understand what just happened.”
The dogs barked again, and Grayce peered down at them. The pair ran around the feet of the man carrying her, tails wagging like crazy, as if they’d just found their long-lost best friend. The border collies put their paws on the man’s thighs, stretching to sniff at her again. Her rescuer—or was he her captor?—whistled sharply, and the dogs took off. He set out after them with her still in his arms. The mud from her clothes smeared his tunic. “Sorry about the mess I’m making of your clothing.”
“The mud will shake out easily enough once it has dried.” His warm brown eyes met hers.
“Where are you taking me?” Her voice quavered, and she’d begun to tremble uncontrollably from the aftereffects of shock. She should insist he put her down, but being carried felt so damn good. She bit her lip, the only part of her that didn’t hurt.
“To my parents’ cottage.”
“How do I get back to where I was? Will you help me get home?” Oh, God, her voice sounded whiny.
“All will be explained soon.”
“Well, thanks. That is so not helpful. I feel much better now that I know all will be explained soon.” Again, her whatever-he-was chuckled. Frustration and fear roiled through her, and her poor heart bounced erratically around her ribcage. Where the hell was she, and how the hell had she gotten here? Even more important, how would she get home?
Hold on. Her backpack still sat on the ground next to where she’d sat against the rock surface that had been solid one minute and gone the next. Meredith knew which trail Grayce had taken. Her twin and her mother would sense something had happened to her, and her family would know where to look. They’d find her backpack, and they’d sense she was alive.
For the first time in her short life, gratitude for her family’s giftedness stormed to the forefront. Fáelán would reach out to his half-fae daughter, and with Boann’s help, her family would find a way to bring Grayce home. The tightness in her chest eased a degree or two.
“I’d prefer to walk,” she said. “If I don’t, I’ll get even more stiff and sore than I am now.”
The man called BREE-uhn stopped and set her on her feet. “Are ye a healer then?”
“No.” She wrapped her arms around her midriff, careful not to touch her palms against anything. “I’m an assistant manager at an office supply store in Knoxville, Tennessee in the States. It’s one of a large chain of stores located all across the country. Lots of opportunities for advancement.” The impossibly gorgeous man’s brow furrowed. He had no idea what she was babbling on about. Why would he care about her chances of being promoted in a job she didn’t even like all that much?
Grayce gestured forward. “Lead on.” Soon. Very soon, a day or two at the max, Boann would come for her. The fae princess would whisk Grayce back to her family, and everything would return to normal. She hoped.
Chapter Two
* * *
Brian’s blood thrummed and sang through his veins, and it was by sheer force of will alone that he refrained from picking up the woman again and cradling her close to his chest. Gods, she’d felt so wonderful in his arms. He even liked her blue hair, though he longed to know what her natural color might be. Her eyes were a lovely gray, fringed with long, dark lashes, and her complexion, so very fair. Flawless.
A
nd what of her full lips? Never had he imagined a woman’s mouth could beckon him so. Kiss me, they whispered to him. Kiss me, and ye shall taste summer-ripened berries, fresh and sweet.
Brian sent up a prayer of gratitude to the goddess that he’d been assigned to this area for guard duty on this particular day. He’d found her first. After years of waiting, surely fate meant this woman for him. His mind reeled with possibilities, and he began to plan his strategy for what was to come. “Will ye not tell me your name? I told ye mine.”
“Grayce MacCarthy.”
Her voice broke with the telling, and the desire to offer comfort brought him to a standstill. “Ye’ve naught to fear, Grayce MacCarthy, for I’ll look after ye, and so shall my kin.” The half sob, half choking sound bursting from her at his promise sliced through his heart.
“My family will search for me. They’ll find me and bring me home.”
“Hmm.” He hadn’t the heart to tell her how many before her had tried to leave. Returning to the outer realm was impossible. The long, mournful tone of a ram’s horn from their village resounded through the air, heralding what he already knew.
She froze. Her lovely eyes filled with fear as she sought his. “What was that?”
“’Tis news of our village chieftain’s passing.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“He’s been ill for many months. ’Twas expected.” He wasn’t sorry in the least. Blaine and his grasping, greedy wife had been the ones who’d orchestrated Brian’s own father’s downfall. The two had sullied his family’s name. Still, Blaine’s passing had brought Grayce to their hidden vales, and for that he’d spare the man a moment of silence. Only a moment, and then he’d think on him no more.
“We’ve only to pass the next rise, and we’ll be on my family’s land. He walked beside the silent woman, longing to explain to her that their chieftain’s passing had caused the tear through time and space that had brought her to him. Fae magic had designed their way of life, but it was forbidden for him to explain. That task fell to their head druid.
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