Stolen Away : A Time Travel Romance (The Swept Away Saga Book 4)

by Kamery Solomon

  “He did.” My wife answered for me, placing a hand on my arm. She squeezed my bicep gently, the tender embrace flooding me with gratefulness for her love and acceptance, despite my undeserving state. “He’s passed away. Ten years ago.”

  “Oh.” His shoulders slumped, a sad expression on his face. “I am sorry to hear that, Tristan.”

  Clearing my throat, I banished my memories. “It’s in the past,” I replied roughly. “And I mean to leave the whole ordeal there, once and for all.”

  The sun shone brightly, its reflection moving across the water that lapped the sandy shore. Warm rays rested on Samantha, her face turned toward the open ocean, eyes closed. She stood with her hands in her pockets, the breeze gently rustling her hair, the dark tendrils clinging to the arms of her jacket. She seemed to be glowing, her beauty robbing me of air. Even after sleeping on a cot in a cave for two nights, she somehow managed to appear as if she’d just walked from the heavens, an angel sent to me from God himself.

  Grinning, I remained hidden in the trees, choosing to watch her for a moment without her knowledge. I took the opportunity to study her when I could, memorizing the lines of her body, the expressions she made, and guessed at the thoughts crossing her face. Whenever we were apart, those memories were all that kept me going. God forbid she was ever taken from me again, or that we were separated for more than a few days. I was guiltily grateful she’d found me so quickly this time.

  Sam was my strength, no matter how much anyone tried to convince me different. Everything I did could be connected to her, even this underhanded concoction involving Randall. I wanted her safe and happy, which meant the Black Knight needed to go.

  Leaning against the trunk of the tree that shaded me, I smiled. She’d removed her boots, her toes curled into the sand, the entire image singing of comfort and relaxation. Then, her nose wrinkled as I watched her, a hand going to her forehead as a pained expression crossed her face. Shoulders heaving, she bent over, coughing, but nothing came up. The entire peaceful image shattered in an instant as she sucked in a painful breath, clutching her stomach.

  Alarmed, I made myself known, crossing the beach to stand beside her. “Are ye well, love?”

  A disgruntled groan left her as she straightened. “Just a little sick. I asked Mark if he had anything to help, but he’s at a loss. He thinks it’s viral—a cold I’ll have to suffer with until it’s run its course.”

  Frowning, I rubbed her back, attempting to ease some of the tension. “There’s nothing else it could be?” I asked gently, abandoning the massage to take her hand in mine and kiss it, squeezing her fingers in reassurance.

  “Not that I can think of.” She snickered, leaning on me and pulling my arms around her. “I don’t have any symptoms other than a queasy stomach and I know I’m not pregnant. It started after you left. Maybe the excitement of it was just too much for my body to handle.”

  The possibility pinched at me. I was always somehow causing her some type of harm, be it not being there to protect her or causing her bodily afflictions. “I apologize if my actions have affected ye in such a way, lass. That was not my intention.”

  Amused, she rested her head on my shoulder, eyes trained on the horizon. “I’m not blaming you, Tristan. Life happens. This is part of it.”

  Remaining silent, I simply held her, delighting in the closeness we shared. I felt so much more connected with her, since my confession. There truly were no secrets between us. It was a freeing realization.

  “What are ye thinking about?” I whispered after a time, kissing her ear quickly.

  She shook against me in a silent laugh, her fingers entwining with my own. “Ireland. My mother and I always wanted to go there, but we never made it. I used to stare at pictures with her and plan day trips to different places. I can’t help but feel she’s with me now, ready to go on the adventures we didn’t make it on. But, I wonder, what will it be like? For you, I mean. Returning to the land of your people and walking where your ancestors did. Going home.”

  Sighing, I observed the water, contemplating the idea. “I feel I am a man with no country,” I finally answered. “Yes, Éire is the land of my family, but I’ve not set foot there myself. It is strange, thinking of a place ye’ve never been as home.” Chuckling, I shook my head. “Truth be told, lass, I find myself somewhat nervous at the prospect.”

  “Why?” She gave me a questioning glance, curiosity in her gaze.

  “Well, what if it’s not what I imagined?” I shrugged. “What if I find it drab and unlikable? What if everything my kin loved about the place has been destroyed since their departure? I have no intention of visiting the O’Rourke lands—but should I? Will I be breaking some long held promise if I do not return?”

  “I believe your family would be happy to see you, and understanding if you didn’t come,” she responded smartly. “And as for the rest, Ireland is a beautiful country, filled with an even more beautiful people, they say. I don’t think you’ll have any trouble loving it. In fact, I know I’ll have to battle to get you to leave at all.”

  Snorting, I nestled my face in her hair. “Hmm. Ye are my home, Samantha Greene O’Rourke. There is no land that could hold a greater sway over me than ye. Wherever ye are, that is where I surely shall be.” I kissed the top of her head, falling silent once more. She’d managed to say enough to ease my worries, as well as tickle my sense of humor.

  Humming in contentment, she continued to lean on me, the peacefulness of the fading afternoon dampening the fears and queries I’d been struggling with as we remained caged on the island. As the sun slipped further below the horizon, I felt the calm of it all slipping away, too. Then, Samantha sighed, and I knew our peace was finished for now.

  “The tide is leaving,” she remarked, glancing toward the two boats resting on the shore. “It will be dusk within the hour.”

  “Aye,” I agreed. “Tis time we take our leave of this place.”

  Slipping from my embrace, she looked past me, in the direction of the hidden cave. “I’ll get Mark.”

  “No, let me.” I fought the urge to delay our departure. “He may need assistance carrying Randall.” The villain had woken on three separate occasions in the past two days, all of which he’d acted extremely disagreeable during. To my delight, he hated being forced to sleep, which made me plenty eager to shove the vitriol cloth in his nose and watch him crumble.

  As I headed in that direction, Sam caught me, pulling me closer. “I love you.” Smiling, she reached up and kissed my lips quickly. “Always. We’ll get through this, together. Then, we can find our home, wherever it may be.”

  Resting my forehead on hers, I beamed. “I love ye, lass. It matters not to me where we are, so long as I am with ye. Even if it means we are in Randall’s company.”

  Stars shone overhead, the only light in the black night. Cold, October air ruffled my hair, the sound of the waves lapping the hull a lullaby to my sailor’s heart.

  Resting in the boat, a blanket wrapped round my body and my hands behind my head, I counted the constellations, as I’d done so many times before. It was a relaxing task, and helped clear my mind, reminding me of simpler times from my childhood.

  Lifting my head, I glanced at Samantha, bundled up and fast asleep on the bench by my feet. She moaned, a grimace crossing her features in her sleep. The poor lass’s stomach hadn’t righted itself, causing her aches and pains at all hours of the day and night. She’d been lucky enough not to empty it, yet, but I had the sneaking suspicion such an occurrence would happen soon. I’d offered many times to try and ease her discomfort, as had Mark, but neither of us could find anything to cure her ailment.

  Sighing, I focused on the heavens, unable to let sleep claim me. I had hardly shut my eyes since we’d left the island two nights ago. In the morning, we would set foot on Éire’s green shore, and I’d have returned to my homeland at last.

  “I don’t know what ails you.” Mark’s voice floated over from the boat lashed to the starboard
side of my own. It was calm and quiet enough it didn’t disturb Sam in the slightest, but there was an edge to it that didn’t escape my notice.

  “I don’t ask you to tell me, either,” he continued. “I trust you’re aware of what you’re doing. But—”

  He hesitated, the rustling of blankets reaching my ears, and his face appeared above mine, unhappy. “What will you do, when you’re done with whatever this is? You know as well as I do The Order will see the both of us hang for this.”

  Grimacing, I glanced away, not wanting to think on the matter just then. In truth, the question had been weighing heavily on my mind for several days. This was—beyond my actions resulting in Cal’s death—the dumbest thing I’d ever done. The Order would indeed see me hang before they ever believed any of my reasons.

  Even more frustrating, they were good reasons. Perfect reasons, actually. This was my fight to finish, my battle to end, my revenge to take. I alone knew the Red Javelin lay in the Otherworld, and Randall was my greatest enemy. All it would take is one throw and he would be gone forever.

  And it wouldn’t be soon enough.

  Focusing on Mark, I scowled. “That’s a bridge I’ll cross when I arrive. Ye need not worry for yerself. I will make sure they know ye’d nothing to do with any of this.”

  “And who’s to say they’ll believe you?” he pressed.

  “Ye didn’t have to come,” I snapped. “Ye could have told Sam no when she asked for yer help.”

  “Could I?” His nose twitched, as if he were angry.

  Jealousy reared its ugly head in a flash, my face filling with heat as I glared at him. “Ye’re still in love with her, then?”

  “Yes.”

  Pursing my lips, I peered at the sky, praying for peace within myself. “I thought ye and Abella—”

  “No.” He sighed, frustrated. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him run a hand through his hair as he studied the water. “Maybe. But it’s not like with Sam. Nothing is ever like it is with Sam.”

  “My wife,” I growled.

  “I’m aware.” He sounded apologetic now, the bastard. “She will never be mine. I know that.”

  “Do ye?”

  “Damn it, Tristan. The situation is hard enough as it is, without you goading me whenever comes up.”

  Sitting, I glowered at him, hissing. “When I’ve managed to forget it and leave your connection with her in the past, ye shove it under my nose! Let it go, Mark. Samantha is not yers to claim. Be a man. Quit stringing Abella along and leave my wife be. Otherwise, I cannot see how ye and me will ever truly be friends.”

  He clenched his jaw, clearly upset by my words, a low chuckle breaking from him. “What’s your plan, Tristan? What will you do when you’re hanging from a noose and Sammy is all alone again?”

  Laying down, I yanked the blanket around my shoulders and rolled my back toward him. Surprisingly, moisture pricked the corners of my eyes. His question affected me in a way I hadn’t expected. Quietly, I answered, sure he didn’t hear what I said.

  “I do not know. I pray that day never comes.”

  The green hills of Éire made my heart pound, the first tendrils of the island welcoming us in, our tiny boats sailing past settlements and twisting around the land, making a path to Cork.

  “Why not stop here?” Sam asked, waving slightly as a fisherman motioned in greeting.

  “There will be more people in Cork,” Mark replied promptly for me, his hand resting on the blanket covering Randall’s sleeping form. “It will be harder to catch us there.”

  Nodding, I adjusted the sail slightly, allowing the water to pull us forward, motioning for him to do the same with his own vessel. We remained tied together, causing our form to be bulky and hard to maneuver, but I didn’t want to risk being separated.

  “If The Order believes we’re here, they will start at the very edge of Éire and work their way in.” Glancing ahead, I tried to look for any spies. The probability of MacDonald following me here was sparse, but I was still cautious. It was common knowledge I’d not set foot here before. The Grand Master was aware my ancestor had called me home, though, which meant even a land foreign to me would not be safe from his prying eyes.

  Confident we were safe for the time being, I sat, taking Samantha’s hand in my own. “It’s better we go straight to the city. However, we will have to keep a whether eye. I’d not be surprised if Templars already lay in wait for us in the alleys of Cork.”

  She smiled, the slightest trace of discomfort on her face. She remained sick, as I’d worried she would.

  “There will be a doctor or healer there, too,” Mark offered quietly, frowning as he studied the two of us. “Someone who may know more of the ailments of this century and a remedy that will help you, Sammy.”

  “I’m fine.” She brushed our concerned glances to the side. “It’s a stomach ache. I’m sure it will go away in a day or two.”

  “You’ve been ill for a week.” Mark pursed his lips, clearly unpleased with the fact.

  “I’m fine,” she argued, rather crossly. “It’s not even that bad. Usually, if it gets worse, I can nibble on a biscuit and the pain lessens.”

  “Only to grow worse once you’ve let it sit in your stomach,” Mark argued.

  “I think,” I asserted loudly, interrupting the two before they could begin shouting. “It’d do ye well to see a healer, Sam. If not for yer own sake, for mine. Put yer husband’s mine at ease, will ye?”

  Gritting her teeth, she stared at me, annoyed. “Fine.”

  “At the very least, we’ll get tea out of it, to warm our insides during this cold snap.” Glancing at the sky, I studied the clouds, their dark underbellies warning of impending rain. It wasn’t any chillier than I’d have expected, not enough to need to bundle up, but the air still bit at me, my coat the only defense I wielded against the weather. With Sam being sick, though, I worried it was too much for her.

  “Tea sounds delightful.” She shivered, as if confirming my worst fears.

  Pulling her closer, I kissed her forehead. “We’ll be beside a fire before ye know it, love,” I whispered gently. “I’ll not let ye freeze.”

  She snorted. “You’d think after all the years I’ve been with you, I would have gotten used to not living in a desert. But, no. Apparently, my body believes it should be baking in the Arizona heat, warm and toasty.”

  My reply was cut short by a groan, the blanket under Mark’s grasp twitching slightly.

  “He’s waking,” I stated, announcing the obvious to the other two.

  “Unfortunately.” Sam was instantly bitter. “Are you sure it’s the best idea to let him walk himself in the city? What if he tries to make a run for it?”

  “We’ll draw more attention if I carry him, lass.” I shook my head. “He’ll be better off walking on his own. I don’t think he’ll try and escape.”

  “He’s had plenty of opportunities to do it,” Mark added quietly, scooting from the body that was groggily pulling at the cover over it.

  “Aye.” Grimacing, I felt a sting of hatred for Thomas Randall surge through me. “It would appear it’s in his best interest to stay with us.”

  “It’s in my best interest to clobber you if you put me to sleep again.” Grouchy, Randall revealed himself, wincing at the light, and glared at Mark. His hair, while already greasy and unkempt, looked as if it had met the wrong end of a donkey. The strands almost stood up on their own.

  “You’re so much more amiable when you’re asleep,” Samantha offered, her voice dripping with sticky sweetness.

  “I agree,” Mark mused.

  “Enough.” I was surprised by the heavy dose of condemnation in my tone. “Ye’ll have to learn to get along, all of ye. We cannot have bickering in the streets. It will draw unwanted attention. As far as anyone knows, the four of us are the best of friends, on a trip to see the beautiful Irish coast.”

  “An odd time to go on holiday,” Randall remarked, raising his eyebrow. “And me without a proper shirt
or comb to fix myself for public appearance.”

  “Ye’ll get what ye require for normalcy.” My eyes narrowed. “Nothing more.”

  He sneered at me, apparently not pleased with my reply. “And when will I get these things? After you’ve paraded me through crowds of bog jumpers, like a dog on a rope?”

  “Watch yer tongue,” I warned, hackles raising at the insult.

  “Or what? You’ll murder me?” His sneer turned into a full blown grin, animosity rolling off him. “I’ve not tried to run, yet you have broken my neck so often I can’t remember how many times it’s occurred. Drugged me into a stupor that makes me act as if I were dead.” His gaze seared into my own, his lip curling as he leaned forward. “What will you do to me that you haven’t done already?”

  Fuming, I itched to silence him once and for all. However, he was correct. Breaking his neck would not yield any different results than it had in the past. It’d only serve to anger him further and frustrate me. There was no use in putting him to sleep, not when I needed him to walk the city on his own.

  “There’s a special place in Hell for ye,” I muttered, looking away from the traitor, furious he’d won the argument.

  He laughed, the sound beaming across the water, echoing lightly off the shore. It didn’t stop, the sound reaching near levels of madness, and I peered back, thrown off.

  Throwing the blanket aside, he sat up, crossing his legs and putting his hand on his knee as he rocked back and forth, giggling. The icy gaze he wore seconds ago was replaced with a madness I’d never seen, like he’d taken a drug that caused his pupils to widen threefold.

  “Hell!” He snickered, the sound of amusement small in comparison to his outburst a second before. “Do you think so? They say differently.” He tapped his head, a knowing expression flashing across his features, mixed with a tiny amount of reverence. “The voices. The gods, I mean. They talk to me, you know.”

  Shocked into silence, I shifted uncomfortably. Randall had never directed his asinine act toward myself. It was confusing and startling, taking me off my guard. I found myself wondering if it was an act at all, or if he was legitimately going crazy from the power he’d absorbed.