Falling Through Time: Mists of Fate - Book Four

by Nancy Scanlon

His blood.

  “Be happy,” he whispered.

  She sobbed over him. “Reilly, can you try to move time? I’ll go with you. We can get you to James, to a hospital. They can help you.”

  He shook his head, the motion making him feel ill. “Nay, lass, my time is here. Leave a message for her to find, please.”

  Bri sobbed, but nodded her head.

  “Tell her I will always love her. And that I’m sorry.”

  Bri smoothed his hair back from his forehead. “It’s not supposed to end like this, Reilly O’Malley. You, more than any of us, deserve a happy ever after.”

  He smiled a little at that and closed his eyes. “Maybe next time, Bri.” The pain was becoming more intense, and he licked his lips. Words wouldn’t fall from his tongue as well as he’d like them to. “Want to…say goodbye to…everyone.”

  Bri bolted up from his side, her sobs in the distant part of his mind, and for a moment, he hovered somewhere between life and death.

  “Jesus, Reilly, what a mess you’re in.”

  Reilly tried to open his eyes, but his side was on fire, and his head was going to explode. He couldn’t get enough air. But he would’ve sworn that was James’s voice.

  A cool touch to his forehead gave him such comfort that he wanted to weep.

  “He’s so cold.” Gwen’s frightened voice filtered through the darkness that threatened to swallow him whole. “Please, Ry. Please hang on.”

  Was this heaven? he wondered in amazement.

  “He looks like hell,” Aidan’s voice said bluntly.

  Definitely not heaven.

  But Gwen wouldn’t be in hell, would she?

  “I’ve got the IV going. Colin and Aidan, hold him down. I’ve got to stitch him up as fast as possible so we can move him.”

  James again. He wanted to open his eyes, tell them that they were too late. But instead, he took a final breath, and relaxed into the hands that cradled his face.

  • • •

  Brianagh stepped outside of Reilly’s bedchamber. Nioclas met her in the hallway, looking grim.

  “He’s going to die,” she said bluntly, though her voice wobbled.

  Nioclas nodded, his mouth tightening.

  “His fever has worsened and both wounds are infected.” She dabbed the corners of her eyes with her sleeve. “His breathing is labored. It won’t be long now.”

  Nioclas held open his arms, and Bri fell into them, pressing her face into his chest, muffling her words. “He deserves so much more than this. He’s given so much of himself to everyone else…and he’s had nothing in return.”

  “I’ll bury him with full MacWilliam honors,” Nioclas said, his voice hoarse. “We will honor him with all we have.”

  “It’s all we can do now,” she whispered. “He’s asked for everyone, to say goodbye.”

  Claire came down the hall, a tray in her hands. Her own face was tear-stained, her eyes puffy from crying. “Is he better?” she asked, though they all knew the answer.

  Brianagh drew her daughter into their embrace. “It’s time to say our final goodbyes.”

  Claire shook her head, her eyes shiny. “I never thought this day would come.”

  Brianagh closed her eyes against the onslaught of fresh tears. Neither did I.

  Nick kissed the top of Bri’s head. “Aye.” He held her for a moment longer, then took her hand. “Come, loves. We shall grieve together.” To the guards outside the room, he said, “Leave us.”

  Once they’d left, he opened the door, and together, they stepped inside.

  Claire’s tray fell with a clatter. The room was empty, save a single jar of Nutella atop a brown paper bag.

  • • •

  My eyes feel like sandpaper.

  Swiftly following that thought came another: I’m on fire.

  Blinking slowly, he tried to open his eyes, but they were too heavy. A cup materialized at his lips, offering cool water.

  It was the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted.

  He drank slowly as he came into consciousness. He kept his eyes closed, for opening them was too much effort, and he instead concentrated on his surroundings. He heard naught but the even breathing of the person administering the water.

  He’d know her smell anywhere, in any time.

  He finally opened his eyes, and met hers, though his vision was somewhat blurred. The soft green he’d fallen in love with all those years ago stared back at him.

  “I thought,” he croaked slowly, “I heard the sounds of a lady in distress,” he croaked. He cleared his throat.

  “Well,” she said, her voice catching, “it wasn’t me. I don’t need to be saved.”

  He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry.”

  She burst into tears.

  He attempted to sit up, but a searing pain across his side and stomach made him gasp and freeze in place. Still teary, Gwen helped him to lie back down, and he realized a few things simultaneously: 1) He was in his own bedchamber in his little cottage; 2) Gwen was wearing modern-day clothes; and 3) They were not alone.

  “You were sliced,” she said without preamble, wiping the tears from her cheeks.

  “I remember,” he groaned, the battle flooding back to him. He hadn’t pulled his sword from the body of his last opponent fast enough; two of the dead man’s clansmen had attacked him.

  He was groggy and had many questions, but the one that pushed to the forefront was, “How am I here?”

  She smoothed his hair. “Don’t worry about the details. There will be plenty of time for that later. James is going to give you more medicine right now.”

  “For what?” Reilly asked, wishing desperately to sit up, to be in command.

  James’s voice came from somewhere behind him. “Both wounds were severely infected. No major arteries were hit, but you lost a lot of blood. Your fever is going down. You’re lucid again.”

  He tried to shift, but the pain nearly rendered him unconscious. The fire on his stomach and back was going to burn him alive.

  “Just a scrape,” he wheezed. Why was everything so blurry? “No medicine necessary.”

  She shook her head, dislodging more tears. “No, Reilly, not this time. Without it, you’ll die.”

  “Can’t. They’re not done with me yet.”

  Colin’s face swam into view. “Mate…we’re not just saying this. We know you’ll die.”

  Reilly felt the absolute certainty of the words sink into his mind. Colin wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true.

  Memories assaulted him in rapid order: The feeling of the sword slicing through him; the transport from the MacWilliam courtyard to a bedchamber. Nick grimly telling him the injury was severe. Brianagh sobbing at his bedside.

  The sounds of James and Gwen.

  Gwen rested her cool forehead against his hot, sweaty one. “Please don’t fight us,” she whispered.

  “James?” Reilly asked uncertainly.

  “Right here, cousin. Antibiotics. If you’ll let me, I’ll set up an IV. Easier that way, and we can do it now that you’re not thrashing about.”

  He nodded wearily. “I’m so tired.”

  “Sleep,” Gwen murmured, gently climbing into the bed next to him.

  “Stay,” he mumbled.

  As he slipped back into a dreamless sleep, he could’ve sworn he heard her whisper, “Forever.”

  • • •

  A week later, Gwen sat in the armchair in his bedchamber, serenely reading the comics.

  “No one actually reads a newspaper anymore. I’ve it on good authority that the internet has all that,” he grumbled.

  She merely smiled. “Rubbish.”

  “Instead of reading that drivel, why don’t you explain to me how you traveled back to me?”

  The first day he was home, he woke up only once. Over the last few days, he’d been improving, but he was still groggy, and his mind was not nearly as sharp as it usually was.

  He’d been asking her the same question every day. At first, she told
him she’d tell him later. Then she moved on to avoidance. And lately, she would flat-out ignore him.

  But today? Today, he would have answers.

  “Damn it, Gwendolyn, why can’t you travel to St. Croix, like every other trust fund baby?”

  She placed the paper down and joined him on the bed. Slowly, she brushed her lips against his and smiled. “Because I’m not like every other trust fund baby.” She lovingly caressed her fingers over his cheeks. “Besides, I think you know me by now. I prefer to hang out in more rustic locations.”

  He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

  “What is it?” she asked, immediately concerned. Her eyes roamed his face. “Are you in pain?”

  He shook his head, loving how her hands never left his face. He leaned into her a little more. “I’ve much to atone for, lass.” She tried shushing him, but he covered her hands with his own to still her, and continued gravely, “All those months ago, the night you came to me, at Brianagh’s castle…”

  Gwen’s lips turned downward slightly, but she stayed silent.

  Reilly cleared his throat, shame creeping into his voice. “I told you that you couldn’t see to my needs. That I wanted someone—anyone—else.”

  “It’s in the past,” she replied softly. “I’ve forgiven you for it.”

  “And I’m grateful for it, Gwendolyn. But I must apologize. I said the words in anger, trying to convince myself that you and I should never be together. I said them to wound your heart enough so that you’d leave me to my personal hell.” He rubbed his thumb in a circle over the sensitive part of her hand between her thumb and forefinger, a wash of emotion overcoming him. “Yet, you saved me.”

  “We all saved you.”

  He slanted her a look and pursed his lips. “You rescued me in more ways than one.”

  “How many more rescues do you think you’ll need?” she asked, a smile hovering at her lips.

  “How many do I get?”

  She leaned closer and placed her mouth at his ear. “As many as you need.”

  He laughed, delight spreading as she parried his own words back to him. “Never change, love.” Swiftly, he changed the subject, hoping her good mood would encourage her to speak freely at last. “Tell me, please. I need to know, Gwendolyn. How did you get there? The line wasn’t in danger, so Colin couldn’t have brought you on his own.”

  She pulled back and patted his hand. “We can talk about the details later.”

  “Now.”

  “Later,” she insisted. He glared at her until she capitulated. “Okay, fine. I did something.”

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “Don’t be mad.”

  “Never a good start to a confession, for certain.”

  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then rushed the words out. “Colin-told-me-how-to-get-the-Fates-to-come-to-me-and-I-made-them-send-us-to-you-and-don’t-yell-at-me-because-I-would-do-it-again!”

  His jaw set, albeit slowly. He eyes hardened, and his body stiffened. He carefully pulled his hand away from hers, then, without moving his eyes from hers, he bellowed, “Oooooo’Rourrrrrrrrrrke!”

  “Oh, he’s not here,” she rushed on. “He figured you would get the story from me today, so he took Ellie and left.”

  “Coward. Since I can’t kill him, that leaves you.”

  “You won’t,” she whispered, taking his hand again.

  He kept it stiff, seriously displeased with her. “I might. What the hell were you thinking, Gwendolyn? The Fates could’ve killed you! Easily ended your life, simply by showing themselves in all their power!”

  “Reilly. Calm down. If I didn’t go back, you would die. In fact, you did die!”

  That stopped him cold. “What?” He knew he had been close to death, but…

  “It’s true. We saw it in Colin’s family genealogy book. And I refused to lose you, so I had to change it. The only ones who could get me to you were the Fates. And if my life was the price to pay for yours, I’d gladly pay it over and over again.”

  He closed his eyes, images of all the things that could’ve happened to her flashing in his mind. “The risk wasn’t worth it, Gwendolyn.”

  She stood and pressed her hands into her hips, and he was struck by her fierceness. She was an avenging angel, a fairy sprite, a fiery goddess in her own right.

  And he was so in love with her, he could barely see straight.

  “It was worth it, Reilly. And like I said, I’d do it again, and again, and again. Because you're worth it. I love you. I will always love you. Forever. Trí na haoiseanna thar am mo ghrá, mo Reilly.”

  He grinned. “Snooping about in my bedchamber, lass?”

  She snuggled in. “I saw the words on the furniture in my room the day I got back here. And I had a hunch, so I went into your room and found the rest. Colin put the phrase together for me.”

  “I should’ve told you. I should’ve told you from the moment I met you.”

  “No more regrets, Ry. Just you, and me, and a good life. We can start over.”

  “I don’t want to start over,” he murmured, stroking her hair. “I’ve too many memories of your sweet self in my life.”

  “I love you,” she whispered.

  He held out his hand, and cautiously, she placed her own in it. He pulled her slowly, inexorably, up his body, until she was merely an inch from him. “You.”

  Her face softened.

  “You, Gwendolyn Allen, are a fierce and brave warrior. I love you, I love your determination and your stubbornness. I love your smiles and your light.”

  He drew her face down until she was breathing his air. “I love you with everything I am, was, and will be. And I love you for loving all of me.”

  “You’re stuck with me for eternity, you know,” she whispered. “I claimed you. To the Fates.”

  “I am indeed a lucky man,” he whispered, wiping the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. “It’s over, you know.”

  At her confused look, he added, “My days of time traveling.”

  “Will you miss the adventure of it?” she asked, resting her forehead on his and releasing a shuddering breath.

  “I think that my greatest adventure starts now,” he replied honestly.

  She pulled back and her eyes searched his. And, instead of saying anything, she did, in his opinion, the most sensible thing she’d ever done in their long acquaintance.

  She kissed him.

  Chapter Seventeen

  One Month Later

  Gwen gently floated Ellie’s veil over her shoulders, and her eyes shimmered with tears. “Oh, Eleanor.”

  Ellie blinked rapidly, her own eyes misty, and she grabbed Gwen’s hands in her own. “I don’t know what to do with all this happiness inside of me!”

  Gwen sniffed. “I’m so happy for you. And Colin’s out there, wearing a hole in the floor, waiting for you to come out, so we’d better get a move on.”

  “He already married her once. You think the man can wait just another moment whilst I take some time with my niece,” Winifred said from the behind them.

  Colin and Ellie insisted on pushing out their wedding celebration until Reilly was recovered. He protested, but the collective power of Ellie, Emma, and Gwen won out.

  It also helped that Colin admitted to Reilly that he and Ellie had already married in the States. It was a small courthouse affair, just the way Ellie had always wanted. Colin’s parents, brother, and Winifred attended. He told him that the ceremony was short and sweet.

  Ellie’s dream day, she later confided to Gwen.

  But today was the day Winifred had planned, and Ellie…

  Ellie was radiant.

  Both women turned, and Winnie’s face softened into a genuine smile. “Oh, girls. You have something special, do you know that? All these years of friendship between you. You’ve seen ups and downs and all arounds, and here you stand, together. My girls.”

  Ellie waved her hand in front of her eyes, trying to dry the tears before they fell. />
  “Waterproof mascara,” Gwen reminded her, sniffing a little.

  “Puffy eyes and nose,” Ellie shot back with a sniffle of her own.

  Winifred enveloped Ellie in a hug. “This is all I’ve ever wanted for you, my love.”

  Gwen discreetly stepped out of the room and quietly closed the door. She turned and caught sight of a man watching her from a few steps away.

  He was enormous, and dressed all in black. A different black from the first time she saw him; back then, it was a black leather jacket, and today that was replaced with a tuxedo jacket. Instead of jeans, the bottom of a léine, in O’Malley colors, wrapped about his waist; his legs were bare, and in place of scuffed work boots were formal, shined shoes.

  “That dress is loads better than that orange disaster.”

  His voice, gravelly and low, had the same effect on her now as it had then. Her insides pooled, and she could only be grateful that they belonged to each other.

  “It wasn’t orange. It was coral.”

  “It was ugly.”

  She laughed as he drew her into his arms. “I agree.”

  “But this…I admit to not liking you in the O’Rourke léine.” He fingered the small ribbon under her chest, that matched his léine. “You should only be in the O’Malley one.”

  She went up on her tiptoes and tugged him down so her mouth was at her ear. “I’m in O’Malley colors…under the O’Rourke dress.”

  He groaned and crushed his mouth to hers. She laughed into him, and he pulled back with a mock-frown. “Fiesty wench.”

  “Always.”

  The door opened, and the two looked at Winifred, who smiled indulgently when seeing them in each other’s arms. “We’re ready.”

  • • •

  “Drinking away your troubles, mates?”

  Reilly grimaced as Aidan joined them at the table, but ’twas more of a habit than a reaction. Despite the lack of blood between them, they still annoyed each other as only brothers could. It was a relationship for which Reilly was profoundly grateful, though he’d never admit to such out loud.

  He rather thought Aidan felt the same. But he’d cut off his sword arm before asking him to admit to such drivel.

  “He’s under strict orders not to drink,” James intoned. “It would interact with the pain meds.”