by Tarah Scott
Margot reached left, for the other end of the railing. Her arm felt as if it would dislocate from her shoulder. Her fingertips brushed the wrought iron, but she fell back, panting hard. Another creak of iron and she couldn’t stop her gaze from dropping to the waves that crashed like thunder against jagged rocks far below. Her heart pounded with the vision of her plunging downward into the white foamy waves. She swung her free hand toward the railing with all her might.
Strong fingers seized her hand. She yanked her head up and cried out at sight of blue eyes dark with fury and fear as Charles McNeil yanked her up and into his arms. Her legs buckled and he swept her off her feet. Charlie whirled and she clung to his neck as he strode off the balcony—and away from the awful crash of waves against the cliffs below.
Charlie sank onto the bed, Margot crushed so tightly against his chest she could barely breathe. She melted into the solid warmth of his arms and the dam holding back her tears burst.
“Miss Bowers,” came Dahlia's distant voice.
Margot's head reeled and she clung tighter to Charlie.
“Miss Bowers,” Dahlia said again, then, “Mr. McNeil, she-she isn't responding.”
“She'll damn well respond when I'm finished with her,” he snarled.
Margot twisted in his arms and stared through bleary eyes at Dahlia kneeling beside Cat—just as she had three days ago.
Margot straightened in Charlie's lap.
"Margot." His hold tightened.
Her mind registered the tremble in his powerful body an instant before she caught sight of her yellow cotton dress. She groped for the pocket and felt the two lock picks and Bree Cullen's locket through the thin fabric. Waves of chills washed over her shoulders. She had returned three days in the past, to the day when Logan and Colin had been freed from the painting.
Impossible
She yanked her gaze onto the painting and gasped.
Margot shoved from Charlie's lap onto shaky legs.
He was at her side, arm around her waist in the iron grip she was growing to know so well. “What is it?” he demanded.
Eyes on the painting, she pulled free of his hold and took three steps to the fireplace. Gone was the like-new luster of the paint. The dull blue of the Atlantic Ocean melded with distant blue sky. Tiny cracked lines marred the ivy that climbed the faded gray walls of Castle Morrison, and no light flickered off the upper stained glass window. Her throat constricted. This was what a three hundred year old painting should look like.
Carefully, Margot lifted a hand and touched the face of the man standing on the pale green grass in front of Castle Morrison. Soft brown eyes stared back as if seeing, knowing, she was there. She allowed her hand to drop back to her side and shifted her attention onto the dark haired woman he held close at his side. Her head rested on his shoulder, face upturned to his, her eyes shining with love.
"Sweet Christ," Margot breathed.
Charlie stepped up beside her.
She stared at the woman's face. “What happened to them?”
He didn't answer and she looked at him.
Doubt shown in his eyes, but he said, "She passed away at eighty-two. He followed a year later."
Margot shifted her gaze back to the picture. “How is this possible?”
“Didn't we agree the likeness between you and Lady Morrison was the reason Ms. Bower believed you were the woman meant to break the curse?” Charlie asked.
Margot nodded and forced back tears. That's exactly what she would have believed. Only, the man in this picture wasn't under any curse. This man stood with the woman he loved, happy, content, the master of his castle…and his life. Her insides trembled. What had happened in the strange seconds of darkness and pain she had catapulted through?
She turned to find Cat staring up at her.
Margot returned her stare for a long moment, then faced Charlie. “Can we go downstairs? I need to use the ladies room.” She glanced at Cat and telepathed, and put Bree Cullen's locket in your secret room. Margot looked back at Charlie. “Then can you take me away from here?”
He slid an arm around her. “I would like nothing better.”
They started away. At the door, Margot glanced back at the painting for the last time.
Charlie’s arm tightened around her. Margot turned to him.
He stared down at her, love shining his eyes.
THE END
I hope you enjoyed the time you spent in Margot’s world as much as I enjoyed creating it. Feel free to drop me a line and let me know what you thought.
Tarah
About the Author
Tarah Scott cut her teeth on books such as The Bobbsey Twins (yes, she is dating herself!) Nancy Drew, Aesop's Fables, The Arabian Knights, and Grimms Fairy Tales. Authors such as Georgette Heyer, Zane Grey, and Mark Twain filled her teenage years. Her favorite book is a Tale of Two Cities, with Gone With the Wind as a close second. Favorite modern authors are Stephen King, Ann Rice, Amanda Quick, and Johanna Lindsey.
Fifteen years ago, Tarah relocated from the Southwest to Westchester County, New York, where she and her daughter reside in a lakeside community. When not working, writing, or reading—
who are we kidding? She's always working, writing, or reading. Oh! There is her daughter. They do manage to spend time together.
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