Falling Through Time

by Nancy Scanlon

  Chapter Three

  Gwen smiled wanly as Ellie’s aunt, Winifred, droned on about the latest on-dit in the upper echelons of British society. As Winnie was a prominent gossip columnist, the topic of conversation wasn’t a surprise, but it was tedious, as Gwen didn’t follow modern aristocracy.

  That had never stopped Aunt Winnie before, Gwen admitted to herself with a small smile, and it wasn’t about to stop her today.

  They were sitting in Winnie’s Irish seaside cottage, counting the minutes until she ran out of things to talk about.

  She glanced down at her weak tea and her stomach growled.

  “I love what the Duchess is doing, but she better rein in that scamp cousin of hers,” Winnie pontificated.

  Gwen caught Ellie’s eye and grimaced. Ellie scratched her eyebrow, their secret sign that one of them needed to redirect the conversation, so Gwen cleared her throat.

  “Speaking of scamps,” Gwen started, unsure of where to go with it.

  Ellie immediately picked up, “We’re hopeful not to run into any tonight.” She glanced at her watch and stood quickly. “We’ve got to go if we want to make our reservations, Gwen. We’ve got to dash, Aunt Winnie. Gwen’s set up my hen party, and we’ve dinner plans before we get started.”

  “Off with you, I suppose,” Winnie sighed. She adjusted her new spectacles and blinked owlishly. “I’m for London in the morning. Are you girls planning to stay the night here? I don’t want you tripping in after eleven; there’s no need for me to startle awake because you can’t hold your liquor.”

  She directed a stare at Gwen, who squirmed uncomfortably. “I said I was sorry, Aunt Winnie. And it was seventeen years ago…”

  “Still the worst night’s sleep in my life, having to wake up to your uncontrollable giggles and then, when you fell down the stairs! Oh, to be your poor mother on the other end of the phone that night. Tsk tsk, Gwendolyn.”

  Ellie snorted. “Well, she did get five phone numbers that night. I’d call it a success.”

  “Eleanor!” Winnie exclaimed, as Gwen guffawed into her elbow. Winnie gave them both a censorious look before rising. “If your evening activities go past eleven, do get yourselves a hotel.”

  “Yes, Aunt Winnie,” the women chorused. They watched her leave, then shared a silent look before bolting upright from their own chairs. They elbowed each other out of the way in a rush to get to the front door.

  “Ha! I win!” Ellie exclaimed, slightly out of breath.

  “Only because I let you,” Gwen retorted, trying to even out her own breathing.

  Ready with the front door open, Alan, Winnie’s butler, kept a straight face when he droned, “Perhaps someday you two might act like grown women?”

  “Perhaps,” Gwen acquiesced with a grin, “but today is not that day.”

  He cracked a smile at that, and she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before running down the steps to the parked car.

  They piled in and slammed the doors, then burst into laughter.

  “Oh, I do love her so,” Ellie gasped.

  Gwen wiped tears from her eyes. “Yes, but she just goes on and on!”

  Ellie started the car and headed out of the driveway. “As if I truly care about a duchess right now. I’m getting married, Gwen! In less than three weeks!”

  “I know!” They shared a moment of squealing glee before Gwen wrinkled her nose. “Okay, pull over. You have no idea where I’m taking you, and you know I love to drive on the left.”

  “You know I loathe crowds,” Ellie reminded her as she expertly avoided two stray sheep in the road before pulling off to the side.

  “I do.”

  And I can’t handle them right now, either.

  The thought came out of nowhere. Gwen shook her head, as if to dislodge it. She loved crowds. Right now, she was just in a funk. That was all. She’d shake out of it soon, she knew she would.

  They switched seats and were on the road again in a moment. After a few twists and turns, Gwen’s GPS told her to turn right…into a nice, open field, if she were to follow it.

  “Uh oh.”

  Ellie laughed. “I think the surprise is up. Tell me what the plan is, and I’ll give you directions.”

  In addition to being the life of the party, Gwen was also a master at event planning. She loved to throw huge get-togethers, plan major dinners, and mingle in a crowd of unfamiliar faces. Ellie, however, was the exact opposite, and in deference to her introverted nature, Gwen planned out the most low-key hen party ever to hit the shores of Ireland.

  Ever.

  “We’re going to a private seven course wine tasting event.”

  “Oh, at that upscale wine bar by the sea?” Ellie breathed, excitement lacing her words.

  Gwen smiled. “Yep. We have a private chef, dedicated waitstaff, and loads of different wines to try before the night is through.”

  “Will Colin be there?”

  “El-lie,” Gwen groaned, drawing out the name in complaint. “You have to have at least one night away from him!”

  “I do?”

  “Yes. It’s written down in the Gwen Allen Book of Pre-Wedding Etiquette. Page thirty-six, section B, states, You must spend at least one night away from your beloved before the ceremony, because absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

  Ellie snorted. “I call foul.”

  Gwen shrugged. “It was worth a try. No, he won’t be there. It’s just us.”

  Ellie reached over and grabbed her hand. “That sounds absolutely perfect. Thanks, Gwennie.”

  Gwen tossed her a wink.

  “Oh, damn, you should’ve turned left back there,” Ellie exclaimed, looking back over her shoulder.

  Gwen let out another laugh. It was going to be a wonderful night. No pipe bombs, no gunfire, and no men.

  Perfect.

  • • •

  It had been a long, difficult night.

  Gwen almost rubbed the skin off her forehead as she leaned on her elbows on the perfectly polished stone counter. “I prepaid. I have the confirmation email right here.” She slid the paperwork she’d printed earlier at Winnie’s house across the counter to the apologetic hotel clerk.

  “I’m sorry, miss, but there’s been an overbooking due to the football match, and because of your late check-in, we had to give your room away. We did try to contact you.”

  Yes, she’d seen the calls come in on her phone, but she didn’t recognize the number, so she didn’t pick up. And they didn’t leave a voicemail.

  “How about a broom closet. Can I sleep in one of those?” Gwen grumbled. She was no stranger to being bumped; with the amount of travel she did every year, it was an inevitability. But she’d prepaid for just this reason.

  And she’d prepaid for three weeks.

  “I’ve already issued a full refund to your card,” the woman added, again apologetically.

  “Wait, a full refund? I have the room for three weeks!”

  The clerk looked like she was about to cry. “When we released your reservation for the night, the system released you fully, and we immediately booked up, what with the championship game coming up in Dublin and all the festivities.”

  “You people and your soccer,” Gwen sighed.

  “Shall I ring about some other hotels in the area, to see if there’s any availability for you? The night would be on us, of course, for the inconvenience.”

  Gwen gave her a tired nod, appreciative of the effort the woman was giving, and she checked her watch. Jet lag was catching up to her in a big way, and it was just after midnight. While Gwen knew she should’ve checked into the hotel earlier, she’d been too busy catching up with Ellie, since she’d picked up Gwen at the airport that morning. When Ellie dropped her off at the hotel a few moments ago, they’d said their goodbyes, and Ellie headed back to Winnie’s, despite the old woman’s dire warnings earlier in the day.

  A few minutes later, the clerk hung up the phone, looking defeated. “Everywhere is booked, miss.”

 
Gwen knew this already, as she’d been checking her apps and the internet while the clerk had made the calls. Not a single hotel room to be found for over fifty miles.

  And Gwen had a dress fitting at eleven a.m. the next morning…and no rental car until tomorrow, either.

  “Is there anyone you can call?”

  Gwen nodded, and she thanked the harried woman before pulling her suitcase off to one of the lush sofas in the main entrance. She plopped down and took a deep breath, then dialed.

  “Awfully late for a booty call. Welcome back, lass.” The deep, rich voice immediately brought a smile to her face, and she sighed heavily.

  “Not quite a welcome,” she said, then quickly explained her situation.

  “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

  “Put some pants on first,” she teased.

  A guffaw sounded and he replied, “Perhaps I’ll put the léine on instead, just to be contrary.”

  He disconnected, and exactly fifteen minutes later, Reilly O’Malley pulled up, loaded her luggage into the car, buckled her tired body into the passenger seat, and drove them back to his house, where he had her tucked into bed inside of five minutes of arrival.

  Sometimes, she thought as she snuggled into the covers, the man was too good to be true.

  Right before she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, her heart felt lighter than it had in far too long.

  • • •

  James O’Rourke, the elder brother of Colin, and Reilly’s current training partner, leaned heavily on his sword, breathing hard. “Got some demons to fight today?”

  Reilly bounced on the balls of his feet, feeling fresh and alive. “Questions will get you naught but more trials, cousin. Sword up.”

  They stood in the freshly tended lists at Reilly’s sword fighting school. He’d opened it a few years ago after watching a particularly bad sword fight in a movie; though he catered to actors, he had a few die-hard reenactment folks as regulars.

  No one walked away from his school and performed poorly in sword fighting again. He made sure of it.

  James shook his head. “No way. I need water. I’m about to pass out. How long have we been doing this?”

  Reilly checked his watch. “A pair of hours. Once more, lad.”

  James reluctantly raised his sword again, but not before throwing a longing look toward the drink machine. “I’m already regretting this. It’s too early for sword training.”

  Reilly canted his head, bemused. “It’s never too early for sword training.”

  “The sun has just come up over the horizon,” James pointed out. “If the sun is sleeping, people should be, too. It’s the way of the Universe.”

  “That’s just the kind of attitude that’ll get you killed while time traveling,” Reilly explained patiently as he hacked at James. The metal-on-metal sound brought Reilly great pleasure, but here at his sword fighting school, the sound was not nearly as common as he’d like. The Hollywood stunt men he trained used a poor substitute of wooden swords to practice their skills, and eventually they were allowed dulled blades. He couldn’t trust them with anything else.

  But, when James, Colin, or Aidan came to visit, Reilly had the joy of crossing sharp blades with them. And James would not deny him the sport because, above all, he was determined to learn how to fight for self-defense.

  A few times in a dungeon would do that to a man, Reilly well knew, and during one particularly uncomfortable escapade, James had been on the wrong side of a land border. It had taken Reilly a pair of days to free him, and once he did, James decided he needed more than simply how to identify the business end of a sword.

  He needed to know how to use it effectively.

  And so here they parried, a few minutes after dawn, already well into his training. Reilly took pity on the man—after all, they had spent the majority of the last week in the lists, working on technique—and ended their session abruptly as James swayed. James gratefully made a beeline for the water and swigged it as Reilly checked his phone.

  “You never check your phone. Got a hot date?” James asked, wiping his mouth with his arm.

  “Gwen’s at the house, sleeping. Lost her hotel reservation.”

  James paused, the bottle halfway to his lips again. “Wait, she had a reservation? At a hotel?”

  Reilly shrugged off the feeling of irritation.

  “What did you do to make her get a reservation?”

  “Nothing.”

  James turned fully to him with a guffaw. “Gwen always stays at your house. She visits you so often that you even decorated one of the bedrooms just for her. Rumor has it that no one else is allowed to stay in her room.”

  “Colin speaks overmuch,” Reilly grumbled.

  James grinned. “Only when he’s in his cups.”

  “Colin’s never in his cups.”

  “Never is so absolute. A better term is rarely. Colin is rarely in his cups.”

  Reilly spared a glance for his sweating cousin. “What else did that fool disclose?”

  “In fairness, I never confirmed it was Colin saying anything,” James noted innocently. “You forget, I’ve been spending time with my almost-sister-in-law. You know…Gwen’s other best friend? Once she trusts someone, it’s a bit difficult to get her to stop talking.”

  Reilly grit his teeth. “Jests are unwelcome.”

  “Unless it’s Gwen who’s doing the jesting?”

  Reilly started for him, but James laughed and put up his hands. “Down, boy. I’m just kidding. I’m no expert on relationships—hell, everyone but me knew my ex-wife was sleeping with everything under the hospital roof. But even I can see that something had to have happened to make Gwen decide on a hotel rather than her second home.”

  “Aye.” Reilly unclenched his jaw and tried to ease the unfamiliar tension from his shoulders. “A bloke by the name of Anthony Ferraro.”

  “A boyfriend?”

  “A fiancé.”

  James winced. “Ah.”

  Reilly jerked out a nod.

  James stared at him thoughtfully for a moment. “And you’re happy for her, right?”

  “Of course.” Reilly tripped over his words, though he hoped James didn’t notice.

  “Hmm. Well, back onto Colin and Ellie for a moment. So, if I remember it correctly, each O’Rourke Protector has a single soul mate, right?”

  “Aye.”

  “And the souls of the two mates would never rest in peace until they’re united?”

  “Aye again, though the woman can live a happy life without the man. Unfortunately, it doesn’t go both ways.”

  “Huh. The one time it sucks to be a guy, right?” James joked.

  Reilly tossed his phone into the gym bag at his feet and raised a brow. “A smart man doesn’t claim his mate unless he’s certain the woman reciprocates. He’s only bound to her once he’s fully given himself over to the idea.”

  James finished off the water. “Colin had to admit it out loud, though.”

  “That’s because Colin’s a stubborn arse, and it’d make it an easier pill to swallow if he thought he hadn’t a choice but to accept it.”

  “He would’ve come around.”

  Reilly snorted. “Perhaps. But it wouldn’t have been in time. Ellie would’ve gone on to settle with someone else. I saved him a boatload of time and heartache.”

  “You also brought Bri and Nick together,” James mused. “And let’s not forget Aidan and Emma. You broke all sorts of rules with those two.”

  Reilly grimaced and wiped his brow. “Don’t remind me. I’ll be paying for that for the rest of my life.”

  “How?”

  Reilly stretched his muscles. “Whenever I do something the Fates don’t like, they saddle me with something that gives me a bit more of a headache than usual. They let me off too easy with MacWilliam.”

  James frowned. “What did they do?”

  After he brought Aidan back from the past, the Fates sent him two young boys, not quite thirteen, who were d
esperate for an adventure. Corralling them had been a challenge and a headache, but eventually, Reilly got them to where they needed to be. And they had quite the tale to tell their grandchildren, though Reilly fervently hoped they left him out of it.

  Reilly shrugged. “They’ve brought me a few visitors who weren’t as easy to control as others. But no worries, mate. Everyone is where they’re supposed to be right now.”

  James raised an eyebrow. “Interesting, seeing as Gwen is at your house right now, slumbering peacefully.”

  “Her snores sound like a freight train.”

  James laughed. “Lies. And don’t complain too much, O’Malley. At least you have someone to go home to today. I’d be content with that.”

  “You are well rid of your ex, and you know it.” He clapped James on the shoulder. “Your mate is out there, O’Rourke. Let us both be grateful that the soul mate rule only applies to those who are both an O’Rourke and a Protector.”

  James raised an eyebrow. “Us? Do you mean us, as in all those clansmen who are both Protector and O’Rourke, or us, you and me?”

  Reilly tested the weight of his sword, covering his apprehension. “You and me. We’ve each only one of the two criteria.”

  James dug the tip of his sword into the dirt, then rested his hand on the hilt. “Only applies to one of us, cousin. I’m an O’Rourke, but I’m not a Protector.”

  “And I’m a Protector, but not an O’Rourke.”

  James lifted his sword up and studied it in the brightening sunlight. “I must’ve forgotten to tell you. There’s some pretty cool ancestry stuff available now, so I figured what the heck? I took a few weeks and traced our family line back to the thirteenth century.”

  A frisson of dread raced up Reilly’s spine, but instead of acknowledging it, he merely stood up straighter. “That sounds…”

  “Enlightening? You bet.”

  “I prefer the term boring.”

  “As you love your history so, being as you see it firsthand all the time,” James continued on calmly, “I’m sure you’ve heard of Finn O’Malley, the chief clan advisor to Laird O’Malley, in, say, 1255?”

  Reilly’s mouth dropped open. Nay.