He merely continued to hold it out.
He watched her struggle with herself before she sighed lightly.
She frowned at his arm, but finally took it. “Fine.”
She tried to charge toward the open door, but he slowed her. “We need speech, Gwen.”
She set her jaw. “So this is why you sent your mother ahead? You want to do this now?”
“Aye. I need your forgiveness.”
She kept her eyes on the sodden ground as they trudged forward, almost ambling, toward the village. “Can we just pretend like this never happened?”
“That what never happened? My feelings for you? Our kiss? The attraction we’ve fought for years?”
“All of it?”
“If there’s one thing we’ve always had, Gwen, it’s our trust in each other. Trust that we’d always be honest with each other. It’s what makes us work.” He let her think on that for a moment. “Ready for the hard questions, Gwen?”
“No,” she grumbled.
He paused. She could be stubborn, but once she forgave, she didn’t hold a grudge.
She seemed to be holding a grudge at the moment.
He focused on the real point of their conversation. “What happened in Venezuela?”
She gasped, her hand fluttering in an entirely un-Gwen-like movement, to her throat. “What makes you think anything happened there?”
“It was on the news, you know. I know about the deaths. And you haven’t been quite yourself.”
She looked away. “I’ve been fine.”
He drew them to a halt. He gently grasped her chin and drew her face toward his again. “Have you, Gwen?”
She took a step back, out of his reach. “Well, I’ve had some tough moments, I guess. But overall, I’d say I’m the same as I ever was.” She held her hands out and gave him a false, bright smile. “See? Still me.”
“Don’t jest about this, Gwen. I know you. You know I know you. So perhaps you can do as you always have, and be honest with me. What was your real reason for coming to, and staying in, Ireland?”
Her entire body went still.
“You could have easily had your dress for Colin’s wedding sent to America,” he pointed out. “You could have stayed in your lovely house by the sea, during your most favorite time of year, and fiddled with your investments, as you love to do. You could’ve gone to Georgia, and spent time enjoying the pleasures to be found in its cities. But you didn’t. And even when Ellie went back to the States with Colin for who knows what—”
“Investors,” she supplied.
He arched a brow. “Not that it matters, but all right, when they went back for the investors, you stayed. So, I’ll ask again. Why did you come, then stay, in Ireland?”
Her shoulders dropped, as though a hundred-pound sack had fallen onto them, and she covered her face with her hands.
“Stop,” came the muffled reply.
“Have I ever told you that you frighten the daylights out of me?” he asked. She kept her hands on her face, but she shook her head, so he continued. “Aye. I’ve felt no fear when a sword’s come at my neck. Actually, I rather look forward to those moments, as they make me feel alive. The moments that follow make me feel grateful to be alive. But it’s the moments well after, once the swords have been put away and ’tis just me and my cup in front of a fire, that make me feel the most. You know what I feel, Gwen?”
She peeked at him from between her fingers.
“I feel so damn lucky. I’ve my head atop my shoulders, my feet warm by a fire, and you in my life. And though you may not be sitting next to me at that moment, you are always foremost in my mind.”
She shuddered, and he took that as a good sign.
“You and me, Gwendolyn. You’re a part of me, a part of my soul.”
“Not all of it, though.”
“All of what?”
She didn’t bother to clarify. “Anthony asked me not to go to Ireland. He demanded it, even. But I had to. I needed to feel like the world couldn’t get me. A safe place, you know? And I went to the safest place I knew.”
“Where?” he demanded. He needed her to say the words, to realize what she was saying. A primitive, visceral need that wouldn’t be fulfilled unless she understood what she was saying to him. How she was claiming him.
She dropped her hands and looked up. Her eyes, the exact color of the lichens he’d always associated with home, held an emotion he wasn’t sure how to interpret.
“Where’s the safest place you know, Gwendolyn?”
She gulped. “In your arms.”
An enormous burst of elation engulfed Reilly, and it took every ounce of his self-control not to crush her into him.
She continued, “I just…needed that. Everything was so bad, Ry…I was helpless to stop the panic, because those were my friends, and I watched them die. And I was almost in that van.”
His heart ached for her. He knew the pain she felt, the survivor’s guilt she experienced. He told her he understood it because he’d lived it, time and again.
She nodded, but the shadows in her eyes didn’t vanish, so he pulled her close.
“I don’t need you to save me,” she murmured softly. “I like it, sometimes. But I don’t need it.”
He stepped back and gently grasped her hands. He searched her troubled, wet eyes, noting that he’d seen her tears more in the last few days than all their time together. “Aye, Gwendolyn. I know.”
He watched her throat work to swallow and her eyes attempt to look anywhere but in his. She started to speak, stopped, started again, then stopped again, stuck in an endless loop of silence.
“Whatever you need to say, say. But give me the truth, Gwendolyn.”
She looked at him with clouded eyes, and a small frown formed around her mouth. “I’m scared.”
“Of what?”
“Of us.”
He rubbed circles on her palms and remained silent.
“If I let myself love you the way I stupidly seem to need to, then…don’t you get it? I won’t survive it, Reilly.”
“Would loving me be so bad?”
“Maybe.” She pulled away from him, and he let her go. “Since the day I met you, I’ve been living half a life. I gave you my heart over and over, but you kept on rejecting it. Do you even know what that does to a woman?”
He absently rubbed his heart. “I was a fool.”
“Yeah, you were! But I could handle that, because you didn’t make me any promises. When you give your word, O’Malley, you keep it. So if you make me a promise, I believe it with my whole heart. But if you break that promise, I won’t be able to survive it.” A sheen of tears blurred her eyes. “Moving on from you was the smartest thing I’ve ever done. And now here you are, twisting everything up. I’m not sure I can give you my heart again. And I don’t think I’m willing to take that risk.”
His chest constricted with such force, Reilly almost lost his breath.
“I want to be someone’s everything,” she whispered, her eyes luminous and open. “I want to find happiness where I can, because I know now that life can end at any second. I came to Ireland because I told myself I needed to restore my soul. But I stayed because, as it turns out, I didn’t really need to restore it. I just needed the other half of it.”
His constricted chest loosened, and he felt a swift, staggering sense of relief. “Gwen—”
She waved him off. “So I have to ask, and you have to be honest with me, Reilly.” She searched his eyes. “Do you know who your soul mate is?”
“Aye.”
“Did you know immediately that she was the one?”
He swallowed hard. “Aye, I did.”
“And did you claim her?”
He closed the distance between them. “I did. But—”
She shook her head quickly, halting his next words, her expression tortured. “Stop. I don’t want to hear any more.”
He frowned. “But—”
“No,” she said, her voice clear. “Please. Not rig
ht now. Let’s go see your mother married, then see if we can get home. I need some space to think.”
“But Gwen—”
“Please, Ry.” Her face held such emotion, it rooted him to the spot, and he was filled with the need to ensure she had whatever she asked for, no matter what it was. The chapel bells chimed in the distance, signaling the start of the wedding procession, and she started jogging towards the sound. Over her shoulder, she said clearly, “I know we’re not soul mates. I just have to figure out if I’m willing to be anything less.”
He’d never known true pain until this moment, and he had to admit, it wasn’t anything he’d ever desired to experience in the first place.
• • •
Reilly watched, his arms folded and his face expressionless, as his mother promised to honor and obey Laird O’Malley for the rest of her days.
If he were to give into any sort of expression, he wasn’t sure what would win out: one of relief that his mother and sister were settled, protected, and very possibly loved, or one of laughter that the laird seemed to believe Mary would obey him within the castle walls.
The priest droned on, and Gwen began to fidget. Reilly smiled inwardly; she was terrible at sitting still. He doubted that would ever change, and he wanted, with a desire bordering on desperate, to be by her side forever, so that he may enjoy that energy for all his days.
Not soul mates. What utter rubbish. He should’ve claimed her the first night they met while they sat at the bar drinking their whiskey.
He leaned closer to her. “Careful, lass. You don’t want to bring attention to yourself. Did Emma ever tell you how she ended up married to that toothless beggar of hers?”
“Aidan’s not toothless,” she whispered back, her lips barely moving. “And he’s definitely not a beggar.”
“I’ve yet to determine why all the womenfolk find him so pleasing.”
“Perhaps it’s due to his smiles and charm,” she replied. “You ought to try it, see where it gets you.”
He snorted. “Emma was an unwed lass at the MacWilliam castle. From what I was told, her beauty caught the eye of a MacWilliam ally, and he wanted to have her. Needless to say, she found herself engaged and married in the same day.”
“Was it what she wanted at the time?”
He kept his eyes forward and murmured, “Who would want to marry such a one as Aidan MacWilliam?”
Gwen rolled her eyes. “I’m going to tell him you said that.”
“Nothing he hasn’t heard before, I assure you.”
“I’m trying to pay attention to the wedding. So cut bait already. Why are you telling me all this?” she whispered, exasperated.
Meaningfully, he dragged his gaze to the other side of her. Against the chapel wall, an older clansman was openly ogling Gwen. When she caught sight of him, he gave her a nearly toothless smile and a waggle of his bushy brows. Then he blew her a kiss, pointed to her, then himself, then the priest.
“Toothless beggar,” Reilly whispered, laughter lacing his words.
Gwen’s head snapped forward. “Did you put him up to that?” she whispered furiously.
Reilly chuckled softly. “Nay, lass. ’Tis Niall, and he’s a clan elder. If he goes to the laird to demand you become his wife, I’ll be forced to either hand you over or wed you myself.”
“I think I’m going to be sick,” she said faintly.
“There, now. Niall’s a nice enough lad.”
“You wouldn’t do that to me. He’s old enough to be my grandfather!”
Reilly fought a smile. “Age is but a number…”
“Shut up, O’Malley,” she hissed.
The priest placed Mary’s hand in Darragh’s, then began winding a rope around their wrists.
Reilly kept his face neutral and his voice low. “I’d like to point out that I still have all my teeth. That should put me at least a bit ahead to win your affections?”
“You’re so funny,” she managed.
He took pity on her. “The other option, of course, is a bit of travel. New destination, new time.”
She stiffened. “Because your purpose has been realized?”
“Aye. And it wasn’t the one I thought originally, so put your hackles down.”
Mary repeated her vows in a crisp voice. They turned to sign the dower papers which, Reilly saw his mother realize, had been taken care of by him.
There was no way she would be giving up everything of hers to Darragh, no matter that he was laird. The woman had been through enough, having lost her husband to an early death and her son to otherworldly activities. She could keep her cottage, her land, and her gold.
Mary looked at him, and she gave him the tiniest of smiles. He winked.
“What’s happening?” Gwen asked, noticing their exchange.
He leaned down to her ear. “When a widow marries a second time, she gives over everything she has to her new husband. That includes all her land and gold. But I had speech with Laird Darragh to ensure my mother is well taken care of.”
Gwen smiled softly. “That was kind of you.”
He cleared his throat. “Well. She’s my mam.”
Gwen fell blessedly silent, and they watched the rest of the ceremony in companionable silence.
Later, when the festivities were well underway, Reilly felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle, and he knew it was time.
He looked down at Gwen and found her looking up at him. “Do you feel it, too?”
“I do,” she replied quietly. “It’s an odd feeling. What’s it mean?”
“’Tis time to take our leave,” he concluded. “’Tis my experience that we have just enough time to say our goodbyes, then find a secluded spot.”
He made his way to his mother, who, despite complaining loudly about having little time to plan a wedding, looked quite happy.
Her smile turned a bit wobbly upon his approach. She turned quickly and murmured something to her new husband, who waved her off toward Gwen and him.
Mary calmly took Reilly’s other arm, and he maneuvered both women outside the castle. As soon as they rounded the corner, Mary teared up.
“Oh, Mam, no,” he exclaimed, aghast. He’d seen his mother cry exactly three times in his life, and each time was worse than the last.
Gwen pulled Mary into her arms. “Why are you crying?” she asked tenderly. “You know he’ll come back to see you.”
Mary shook her head, her voice catching. “N-no he won’t.” She wiped her tears, though they continued to fall. “Reilly, my love, I saw them. The Mother, she came to me, and she told me you’d be saying your final goodbye.”
“Seems a bit overdramatic,” he soothed. “Mam, you’ve no reason to be so upset. I’m taking Gwen home. I’ll be back when I can.”
Mary sniffled; then, in Gaelic, she said, “Nay, Reilly, you won’t. This is it. We’ve new paths now. I’m not sure how I was when you saw me in my other future, but the Fate visited me before I walked into the chapel today. She told me that changes have begun. I know not what your future holds, but I know that for mine, this will be the last I see of you.”
Speechless, he looked at her tear-stained face. What was this madness? Why were things changing? How were they changing?
She tugged him down to her and cradled his face in her hands. “Love her well, son. She’s a good woman. I fear that she, as your mate, has many trials in front of her. Have patience. But mostly, just love her. Marry her, give her bairns. They’ll keep her company on the cold nights when you might not be able to warm her bed.”
He looked at her in alarm. “Are you trying to tell me that my life is in danger?”
“It’s always been in danger,” she confessed. “But you’ve had the guiding hands of the Fates to help you along. I fear that time has also come to an end.” She swallowed hard. “Be safe, Reilly.” She turned to Gwen, and in English, she managed, “I’m so happy to have met you, Gwendolyn. Love him.”
Gwen nodded wordlessly, sadness etched into her fe
atures. While he knew she didn’t understand the exchange he and his mother had, she seemed to understand the gravity of it.
Mary hugged Gwen, then she hugged Reilly. And if he held her a bit tighter, a bit longer, than he ever had previously, and if perhaps the dust from the ground at their feet made his eyes water fiercely, he rather thought no one could blame him.
“Go,” Mary rasped, slipping from his arms. “Be off. Be safe.” She kissed him on the cheek, her tears spilling onto her cheeks. “I am grateful, you know. Many mothers do not see their sons to manhood. Most mothers do not see their sons happy in life. I’m blessed to have had both visions.”
With that, she turned and fled back to the castle, leaving Reilly staring helplessly after her.
Gwen tugged gently on his arm. “Come on, Ry. It’s time to go.”
He nodded once, not trusting himself to speak past the lump in his throat, and allowed her to lead him away from the small but safe pile of stones where his mother would live out the rest of her days.
After ensuring no one had followed, Reilly tucked them against a copse of trees. Gwen placed her arms around his waist, but he wasn’t taking any chances. He easily lifted her, and she wrapped her arms around his neck.
“I don’t want to lose you,” he explained hoarsely.
She smiled gently. “Nor I, you.”
The iron fist that had locked itself around his heart eased slightly. He drew a breath, then tightened his hold on Gwen with his left arm. He extended his right arm, held out his right hand, fingers splayed, and murmured the ancient words and sounds that would take them home. He quickly turned his fingers inward to his palm, and the air began to shimmer around them. He clasped Gwen to him with both arms a half-second before shards of light began pelting their bodies. The trees spun away, the currents lifting Gwen’s hair to encircle them both in its radiance, and a dizzying moment later, the air settled.
Chapter Thirteen
“I’ll be glad to see a coffee shop.” Gwen strove for a light tone as she beat the dust from her gown.
“Not a fan of medieval ale and wine?” he teased, though his eyes were alert to their surroundings.
Gwen glanced up at him curiously, her heart constricting a little at the sight of him. His hair blew around his face in the wind, and his tunic, while not pristine white, was clean enough that the scent of soap wafted in her general direction. The léine danced around his knees, and he loosened his sword from the straps on his back.
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