“You said yourself that you were with Dougray. You know what he looks like and he is a formidable man. He was the last person you were with. You could have easily taken what you know of him and somehow transformed that into thinking you were in love with him.”
“God damn it, Connor!” She stood and moved away from him. “I didn’t conjure all this up in my mind. I fell in love. Don’t you understand that? For the first time in my life, I fell in love with a man that you, and everyone else, is trying to say didn’t exist.”
He stood too and went over to her, bringing her into his embrace. “I will agree that Dougray Fitzpatrick is a real person, but not a lord from the sixteenth century.”
She pulled away to look at him. “How can you stand there and tell me that it wasn’t real? I’m telling you, I couldn’t have made it up. My imagination couldn’t conjure up a whole year of a life with another person. I fought, loved, and I had a child that I lost with this man. I couldn’t fabricate a whole life. I didn’t! And stop looking at me that way.”
“What way?”
“Like you’re pitying me. Like you think I have totally lost my mind.” “God, A.J., listen to yourself.”
“I am and I know how I sound, but I won’t pretend that everything I told you didn’t happen. I won’t do it. I won’t!” Her eyes held his. He knew that she really believed she had traveled back in time, and there was no point in trying to convince her otherwise.
“Fine. Okay, let’s just say by some freak of nature you did live a year in another century. Well now you’re back where you belong, I might add, and you need to move on. Grieve if that is what you must do, but you have to start living again.” He purposely walked over to her writing desk that was covered, piled high with books. He moved them aside and pulled out her keyboard to start up the computer. He pulled up Microsoft Word giving her a blank page.
He turned to look at her then and he could see the questioning glare. “Sit down and do what you do best. Write about your adventure. Put it all down how you remember it. Who knows, maybe it will help.” She still hesitated so he pulled out the chair in front of the desk, motioning for her to take it.
He almost shouted with joy when he saw her walk toward him. She sat down and he rolled the chair closer. She poised her hands over the keyboard almost as though she was scared to touch it. She looked up at him. “Connor?”
“Hmm?”
“I’m pregnant.”
His eyes closed as a range of emotions coursed through him. He looked at her again, his jaw muscles at work as he clenched his jaw. “Fitzpatrick’s?”
“God, Connor, you have to ask?” “Son of…”
“Stop. Don’t say it. I’m happy about this, Connor. I want this baby. I have already seen my obstetrician and she says everything looks all right. Please try to be happy for me.”
She wanted him to be happy for her because the bum of a man had left her bleeding and pregnant on the side of the road? He opened his mouth to tell her exactly what he thought, but seeing her dark eyes pleading with him, he couldn’t do it. She’d been through enough and he wasn’t going to cause her more grief. “This is what you want?”
She took a deep breath. “Yes.”
Maybe it was time that he also let things go. She was the one who had gone through this ordeal and now she was going to have Dougray Fitzpatrick’s baby.
Maybe it was time to give her back what belonged to her anyway. “I have something that I have to get out of my car.”
He returned in a matter of a few moments with a manila envelope in his hand. “Here.” He handed it to her as her eyebrows furrowed. “Open it.” She did and her eyes immediately misted with tears. “I shouldn’t have kept it from you. I thought I was….”
She grabbed a hold of his hand as she looked up at him. “No, I understand. Thank you, Connor.” She pulled out her wedding ring and placed it back where it belonged. Then she removed the amulet, lovingly running her fingers over the amber stone.
Connor squeezed her shoulder and she placed the palm of her hand over his. “Everything will be all right.”
“I know, Connor,” she sobbed. “I know.”
Aislinn did write. She wrote nearly nonstop from morning to night, recreating every moment she had experienced at Dunhaven. In vivid colors people she met came alive upon the pages. She laughed a lot and cried.
Four months later, she was finished with her rough draft, which was ready for reading.
She arrived at Beverly’s office to personally drop it off. “You’re done?” “Read it and let me know what you think.”
Beverly eyed her friend closely. She was happy to see that at least Aislinn appeared as if she was on her way to being fully recovered from her ordeal in Ireland. She had color in her cheeks and her hair was layered to flatter the longer style she now wore. Even at five and half months pregnant, she looked gorgeous, long, lean and very healthy. “You bet, A.J. I’ll read it.”
Aislinn smiled and swung her purse over her shoulder as she left the office. Beverly didn’t wait but sat down and turned to the first page. She was so engrossed with what she was reading that she forgot to even go to lunch. Her secretary came in to see if she was all right. She was promptly waved away.
It was two days later. Aislinn had just finished her dinner when Beverly arrived at her house marching in with the manuscript in her hands. She plopped it down on the coffee table and glared at her in what looked nearly like contempt. “How could you do that?”
“You didn’t like it?”
“Didn’t like…of course I liked it. I not only like it, I love it! I’ve never been so spellbound. I couldn’t wait to turn the next page and the man that you describe, tall dark, devilishly handsome with shoulders that strained against every fabric that he wore. A.J., I could have eaten him up.”
Aislinn smiled. “Then I did my job.”
“Oh, you did that all right. You made me laugh, cry and absolutely care for everyone involved, but the ending…. Why?”
“Because that’s how it ends.”
“It’s heartbreaking. People don’t want tragic. We’re in the romance business. They want happily ever after. They’ll want Daric and Alana to be together.”
“But they don’t find happily ever after. They’re separated for all time. Forever.”
It dawned on Beverly then why the story had such a real life ring to it.
“This is about you?”
“What difference does it make? It wasn’t real, remember? It was all a figment of my imagination, only my mind didn’t conjure up a blissful finale.” “Oh, A.J., I’m so sorry. Come here, honey, and sit down next to me.” Once they were seated, Beverly spoke again, “Obviously you experienced something I will never fully understand. Reading this,” she pointed to the manuscript, “I have an inkling to what you were trying to tell me. I wish I could have known this man that you loved—still love,” she corrected herself. “The man would risk death for you, that alone speaks for itself. I don’t wish to make what you experience seem any less than it was, but as your friend, not just your editor, I know that this will never sell. It’s a beautiful story and it would be a shame if others could not share it, live it as I have done. Keep this copy as your journal, but give to the public an ending that you yourself would have wished for.
It had to be rushed, but Beverly managed to have it put to print within a month with it hitting the bestseller’s list almost immediately. Aislinn’s e- mail was full of compliments from people that had loved the book. They couldn’t wait for her to write her next time-travel adventure.
She was busy and back to work. She wore a smile on her face because it was expected of her, but when she was home she would let her true feelings surface. She missed Dougray and Declan. She couldn’t help it. She longed to have them with her. She yearned to show them the ultrasound picture of the child who was thriving inside of her.
She loved them. They were her family and they were as alive as she, but fate separated them by a thin veil th
at we call time.
Chapter 79
Dougray waited patiently for Tremain Butler to arrive. He had decided to make the meeting of the clans at Miriam’s home, in hopes of alleviating any suspicion. Murrough was there along with Shane Fitzpatrick and Father Fiach. Teige and Cormac were patiently standing guard at the door.
It seemed there had been many changes at Dunhaven, with many more to come. Murrough had joined hands with Rhiannon, their union blessed by the Brehon. Teige and Moira were married last week by Father Fiach. He was happy that his friends seemed most content.
Teige would never say a word, but Dougray sensed that he didn’t quite believe that he had tried to save Aislinn. As much as he hated to lie, he had to tell them that she had wandered away in the middle of the night, for there was no other way to explain how she had disappeared. He wouldn’t say that she was dead, but many of Dunhaven believed it to be so. Some believed that she had indeed been the goddess Scathach and returned to the heavens.
Dougray prayed nightly that she had been found in her time and was well. “Uncle, yer boy is running me ragged.” Oren came in holding a flush Declan in his arms.
Dougray gladly relieved his nephew of his burden. He tried to look stern but he couldn’t help but smile when the lad gave him a big bear hug, wrapping his small arms around his neck. He had grown to care deeply for the child.
In different ways, they both had consoled each other with their grief in losing Aislinn. He had made a solemn oath that day he had to let her go. He would claim Declan as his son, for he knew she would have wanted it. At first it had been done out of a sense of duty, but now he could not see his life without the child. He was endeared to his heart, as if he had fathered the lad himself. He had already made all the necessary arrangements for Declan to accompany him when he left for Rome.
He looked up as Fingham and Tremain were shown into the room. Dougray had been surprised how easily Fingham had come around to hear his terms, but then he had been informed that Aislinn had explained at great length to this clan leader her suspicions about the attacks. He had done some investigating on his own and uncovered the spy who worked for Kirwan. He was dealt with accordingly. At long last, Fingham Butler had been able to let Ella’s spirit rest in peace.
Dougray’s gaze fell on Tremain where he noticed that the man showed great restraint by not allowing his gaze to wander over to his sister. If he hadn’t known that Tremain was in love with Miriam, he would have thought that he was already bored with their impending nuptials.
Dougray had suspected, but now seeing them together in the same room, he knew without a doubt that Oren was indeed Tremain’s son. They closely resembled each other possessing the same blond hair and bluish-green eyes that slanted slightly at the corner where the lashes were thickest. Even their stance of aloof indifference was so identical that he had to force himself not to smile.
“Shall we proceed?” Dougray announced. Miriam took hold of Declan’s hand and left the room, so that the men could finalize the contracts. For once, she was not upset about being forced to withdraw. The Fitzpatricks and the Butlers would finally have their alliance, and she at long last would have the only man whom she had ever loved.
Tremain didn’t have to use the secret passage to Miriam’s room since they were betrothed; he could have easily requested an audience with her, but old habits died hard.
She was waiting for him.
A smile tugged at his mouth for he realized that she had known he would turn up here. “Am I all that predictable then?” He pulled her into a warm embrace.
“Nay, not predictable. Ye are part of my soul, Tremain, and that is why I knew ye’d come.”
He became serious then and seemed to be formulating the question in his mind before he spoke it out loud. “Ye will be my wife before the week’s over.
I would like to have….” He hesitated, wondering if she could still give him a child. She sensed what he wanted to ask her and she made it easier for him.
“I want to have many children with ye, but ye are already a father, ye see.” “Aye. I will treat Oren as my own.”
“I have a confession to make.”
“Tell me anything.” He kissed the pulsing hollow at the base of her throat, only to be distracted by her next words.
“Oren is yer son. True son.”
He raised his head to look at her. “Oren is….”
She nodded.
“I had suspected, had hoped…” His eyes misted. “I love ye, Miriam.” He moved his mouth over hers, devouring its softness and she gave herself freely to the passion that would seal their destiny.
Chapter 80
Against his parent’s advice, Connor had hired a private investigator to try and find Dougray Fitzpatrick. He knew that he was hunting for Dougray to appease his own mind, as well as proving to Aislinn once and for all that the man was not a time traveler.
After weeks of a thorough search, the investigator had called and informed him that he had come up empty handed. It was like Dougray Fitzpatrick had fallen off the face of the earth. It really pissed him off that the man could not be found for he had a few choice words that he would love to relay.
Connor threw the rest of his clothes into the suitcase and glanced at the clock on the mantle. He had about two hours before his flight was due to take off. If ye want a job done right, his father would always say in his thick Irish brogue, ye are better be off doing it yerself.
“Ireland, here I come.”
He was in Dublin walking the city, contemplating what his next move was going to be when he found himself in front of St. Michan’s church. The strange happenings began here for Aislinn. Maybe he should retrace their steps and see where they took him. He crossed the street and entered the church.
The same man was giving the tour, and he glanced at Connor with some recollection, but he didn’t miss a beat of his speech. Finally, he brought them to where the mummified bodies were resting. Just like before, only…. “What happened to the other one?”
The man stopped what he had been saying to address Connor. “The other one?”
“Yes. I took the tour a few months back and there was another body. You had told us that he had died a horrible death. You said….” Connor clamped his mouth shut the moment he realized how everyone was staring at him as if he had lost his mind.
He couldn’t stop his heart from beating wildly. He knew he was right. A body was missing for he had the footage of their tour down here, and there had definitely been another mummy. He ran his hand through his thick hair. This was all beginning to be a little too weird. Aislinn had felt and heard a ghost down here convincing her that it had been the man that had been slain. Now those remains were gone, those same remains that she had declared firmly as Dougray’s.
He went back to where he had left the car. He took the same road out of Dublin to where they had stumbled upon Dougray. It was where they had found Aislinn’s abandoned car the day she disappeared.
It was early evening, but the fog was already rolling in thick. He worked the windshield wipers but it didn’t seem to help the moisture that was settling on the windows.
As soon as he came to the designated spot, he pulled over to the side of the road and turned off the engine. “This is insane.” But he put the keys in his pocket and got out of the car with his flashlight in hand heading down the incline. “This is more than insane.” He kept talking to himself, but still he moved forward into the mist. He hadn’t gone far when he realized just how crazy it actually was, especially when he had no idea of what was in front of him. The flashlight had been useless since the light bounced off the low clouds reflecting the glare back to him. He made the decision to head back, but came to realize he had no idea which direction to take. The thick, dry haze was everywhere, making it difficult to see his hand in front of him. “Just great,” he mumbled. He knew he couldn’t keep wandering around blindly. He was liable to fall in a ditch and God knew when anyone would ever find him. “Great,” he said again a
s he plopped himself on the ground and zipped up his jacket to wait it out.
“I say that he’s had too much to drink.” Dermot eyed the man that was sleeping out in the middle of nowhere.
“Look at his garbs,” Teige noted.
“Obviously not from around here.” Cormac moved forward to wake up the man.
“We’re not from around here either,” Teige reminded them. He was ready with his sword just in case the stranger wanted to cause a problem. “Wake him up and we’ll see if we need to bring him back to milord for questioning.” Cormac nudged him with the bottom of his foot. That was enough to startle the man awake. He had tried to sit up, but the sword pressed firmly
against his chest stopped him.
Connor raised his eyes to look upon three men clad in voluminous, baggy-sleeved, saffron-dyed leine under embroidered, fringed jackets and shaggy woolen mantles. Their hair was extremely long, one wearing a braid that fell forward over his face. They had more weapons than he had ever seen. Sword aside, between the three of them, they possessed a bow, an ax and three daggers. “What’s going on? Did I trespass or something? Because if I did, I can assure you, it was by accident.”
The men exchanged uneasy glances before their eyes pinned him down. He felt the pressure of the sword increase. This was a getting to be a little uncomfortable for words. What exactly had he stumbled upon? Maybe it was some kind of cult. Maybe they didn’t even understand him. They did look a little confused. He was about to try again to communicate, when the golden brown-haired man crouched down beside him.
Teige couldn’t shake the feeling that the man they held captive looked oddly familiar. “Cad is ainm dhuit?”
Connor looked at him with a blank expression before it dawned on him that he was speaking the Irish. He racked his brain for the translation of the question.
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