Brianna brushed back a silken lock of Violet’s hair, tucking it behind her ear.
After sleeping the clock around, the little girl appeared none the worse for wear.
Amazing. Violet’s magic must be nearly back to full strength if she’d been able to keep the Ulster Leprechaun at bay for the hours it took Luke and Brianna to find her. Perhaps they wouldn’t have to use all of Luke’s gold to see her to full health. Perhaps she could reserve some of it for Luke. Then he could return to her and— No.
“If only that could be,” she sighed.
“Hmm?” Violet asked.
Brianna shook her head, never opening her eyes. “Nothing, love. Go back to your story.”
Violet said nothing more. Tears stung Brianna’s eyes but she fought them. She wouldn’t cry in front of Violet. The last thing she needed was for the child to take it upon herself to see matters set to rights. And the Lord only knew what the little Pixie might do.
That caused a corner of Brianna’s mouth to lift.
She opened her eyes and withdrew the crystal key from her front pocket. It was
silent, the stone facets dull and colorless. Funny, but when her grandmother had given it to her back in Cornwall, its color had been like this. Since the first moment she’d seen Luke, though… She shook her head and pocketed the stone.
“What do you want for dinner, love?” Brianna opened her eyes. “Some pizza?”
“Oh, pizza would be lovely.”
Brianna stood, unable to resist dropping a kiss on her sister’s brow before heading into the kitchen to call for pizza delivery.
* * *
“It’s me, Uncle Seamus.” Luke took in a breath, tamping down his frustration as he heard himself say the same sentence yet again. “It’s Luke.”
As before, the man said nothing intelligible. Seamus chanted in that eerie sing-song voice and stared off in the distance. Whether he looked at the past or the future, Luke couldn’t guess.
Uncle Seamus had been like this since Luke came back from Ulster, a shell of himself. Sunday at Mass in the chapel on the square, Seamus had sat like a stone. No lilting voice added to the hymns, no strong rumble speaking the prayers they all knew by heart. Luke had been able to escape Patrick and Sean’s interrogations following the service, but he knew that particular luck wouldn’t last for long. And his brothers had every right to learn what had happened in Indianapolis. He was a coward to hope to delay their questions any longer. Thankfully the two younger MacDonalds weren’t here with Luke and Seamus. Patrick and Sean had gone into the kitchen and were no doubt driving Mrs. O’Grady daft as they tried to sample whatever tasty dish she made for Sunday dinner. Nay, Luke had to face his uncle alone.
They sat in Seamus’ parlor, neatened by Mrs. O’Grady while they were away at Mass. At least the place looked like Seamus’ old home. If only Seamus could be the man
he’s been before.
“I don’t have the gold, Uncle.”
The low-spoken admission seemed to spark his uncle’s interest. He lifted his head and pinned Luke with his green eyes. Luke started. The depths of Seamus’ eyes were startlingly clear.
“You do not need the gold, lad,” Seamus said. “You have her love.”
Luke’s heart gave a flip. Did he mean Brianna? How could he? Or did he speak of Luke’s father and mother again? He didn’t think he could bear it.
“Uncle, I…” He leaned closer and placed his hands on the arms of his uncle’s chair, his fingers digging into the velvet. “Pray, tell me what you mean.”
Seamus laughed, the booming sound Luke had always associated with the man
who raised him. His heart beat with cautious hope.
“Love, lad!” Seamus said. “‘Tis more powerful than MacDonald gold, I wager.”
What was this? Luke opened his mouth to question him further, but Seamus’s glorious green eyes clouded. As Luke’s spirits sank, Seamus began to rock and hum.
“Where be your bride, Lucas?” he asked in a faraway voice. “She be with those darlin’ boys of yours?”
Luke’s throat tightened. “Nay, Uncle,” he said. “I’m Luke.”
The high-pitched laugh Seamus uttered chilled him. Gone again. Luke patted his uncle’s hand and stood.
“Mrs. O’Grady?” Luke called.
The lady peeped from the kitchen, her mop cap slightly askew. “Aye, Master Luke?”
“I’m off to the workshop.”
She simply nodded. That struck him as odd. He knew it wasn’t their custom to
work on a Sunday, that the MacDonalds had never done anything after Mass but talk and eat and doze. Luke needed to do something to occupy his mind.
The woman nodded. “Very good, sir.”
Luke gazed at his uncle for another moment before leaving the cottage. He was torn; unable to stay with his uncle and unwilling to hear his brothers’ questions. Mrs.
O’Grady would shoo them out of the kitchen at any moment.
“Bloody beautiful,” he muttered.
His uncle said nothing and Luke left. Unexpectedly, both his brothers were in the workshop. Well, that explained why Mrs. O’Grady had not found it odd that Luke was headed there, too. Patrick and Sean weren’t busy. Nay they stood close, talking animatedly. Patrick stabbed at the air while Sean held his hands up in a placating gesture.
Luke could well guess the topic of discussion. The bloody gold.
“Hello, Patrick,” he said. “Sean.”
The younger men each gave a start and turned. Luke easily read the expressions on their faces. Patrick looked angry and Sean looked puzzled.
“Good afternoon, Luke,” Patrick returned.
“I thought the two of you were at the cottage.” Luke walked over to the back of the shop and leaned against the tall stool near his workbench. “I sat with Uncle Seamus.
Ah, he’s no better.”
“Nay, he isn’t,” Sean put in. He glanced over at Patrick and swallowed audibly.
“We had hoped that… Well, now you be home and all…”
Patrick spat out a curse. “Enough dancin’ around it, Sean. Where’s the gold, Luke?”
Luke raked his fingers through his hair and blew out a breath. “I couldn’t bring it home, lads. I couldn’t.”
“What the bloody—!” Patrick said. “Why not?”
Sean grabbed onto Patrick’s arm. “Easy, Patrick. We need to be hearin’ Luke’s side of the story.”
Patrick shrugged out of Sean’s grip. “His bloody side? Fine.”
His eyes bore into Luke’s but Luke didn’t flinch.
“Tell us, dear brother,” Patrick snarled. “What was so important you saw fit to leave our gold in the future?”
Luke kept his gaze steady. “The Pixie needed it.”
Patrick snorted. “I knew you fancied the chit. She bewitched you.”
“Nay!” Luke said. “Brianna— she didn’t take the gold for herself, Patrick.”
“Aye, but she be usin’ it,” Patrick said.
Luke shook his head. “Nay!”
“Tell us, Luke,” Sean said.
Luke looked toward Sean and read the younger man’s attempt to think things through. One look at Patrick told Luke he would fare well with only the whole truth.
Bloody beautiful.
“The child O’Shey kidnapped,” Luke said. “She’s a Pixie.”
“What? A Faery?” Patrick asked. “You said she was sick.”
“Aye, she is,” Luke said. “With a blood sickness the doctor there is tryin’ to heal.”
“So why not barter—?” Patrick asked. “Ah, they don’t do things that way in the future, do they?”
“Nay they do not, Patrick,” Luke said. “And Brianna is using our gold to pay for the sprite’s treatment.”
Patrick fell silent, his brows drawn together.
“But what of Uncle Seamus, Luke?” Sean asked softly. “He be needin’ that gold.”
Luke rubbed his hands over his face and sighed. “I know that, Sean. I couldn’
t let the child die.”
“I didn’t know,” Patrick began. He shook his head. “Did she use all the gold?”
Luke’s shoulders slumped. “Nearly.”
“You saw it, then?” Sean asked. “You saw our gold?”
Luke nodded. “Aye. She removed the spell that kept it hidden after O’Shey took the girl.”
“Miserable imp,” Patrick said.
Luke agreed with his brother’s words. “The Ulster clan will see to his
punishment.”
Patrick’s blue eyes clouded. “But to harm a child…”
Luke shivered. “Aye.”
“What is she like, Luke?” Sean asked.
“The sprite?” Luke gave a short laugh. “Ah, she be a bonny little lass. Spirited and happy. Uncle will— He would’ve liked her.”
“And Brianna?” Patrick asked, suspicion in his voice.
Luke was silent. How to put into words the miracle that was his Pixie?
“She’s beautiful and brave and noble,” Luke said.
Sean nodded. “If she used the gold for her sister…”
“Aye,” Luke answered. “Never for herself.”
Patrick cursed again. “You’re moonin’ over her! We been here with Uncle these weeks and you’ve been taking your pleasure—”
“Hush, Patrick!” Luke growled. “The girl is honorable. And so is a MacDonald.”
Patrick colored at that. “Aye,” he muttered. “But what of Uncle Seamus?”
“God, I don’t know.” He felt tears prick the back of his eyes. “He was bad today, lads. I don’t know how to reach him.”
“At least he talks to you,” Sean said. His eyes were downcast. “He doesn’t notice me or Patrick.”
“Aye,” Patrick agreed. “Maybe because you look so much like Father… I do not know.”
“We’ll find a way to help him.” Luke straightened. “There must be a way.”
“How?” Sean asked in a low voice.
His uncle’s words, spoken as clear as any uttered in his life before the gold was stolen, rang in Luke’s brain. Love will keep you when all else is gone. Was there something to the man’s ramblings? Would love be the answer? His brothers wouldn’t understand. That was certain. They’d surely think Luke as daft as Daniel O’Shey.
“I don’t know,” he said again.
The disappointment on his brothers’ faces was worse than the anger and
confusion of a moment ago. He left the workshop, bound for his cottage. He suspected the girl keeping his place for him would have plenty of his clan’s own brewed ale. A fitting way to pass an evening. He doubted the drink would drown out his confusion over what to do about his uncle. And he knew it would do nothing to keep thoughts of Brianna from filling his drunken mind.
Chapter 22
“Luke!” Sean called from outside Luke’s door.
Luke’s eyes slowly opened. His head ached and his tongue felt like cracked leather. He raised himself from the table—he hadn’t made it to his bed, apparently—and groaned.
“Jus’ a minute,” he mumbled.
He stumbled into his room, tripping over a chair set near the door. He found the chamber pot and grumbled as he relieved himself. No loud and marvelous toilet here, no hot shower to pulse away his headache. Was he now some delicate flower, spoiled by the future’s conveniences? He shook his head and the room tilted for a moment.
He splashed his face with tepid water from the washbasin and stalked toward the front door. His little brother took up knocking again, the sound reverberating in Luke’s aching skull.
“Cease!” Luke grumbled.
Luke pulled the door open and found Sean standing there, his green eyes alight.
“He asked for you, Luke,” Sean breathed. “Uncle Seamus asked for you.”
“Nay, Sean.” Luke yawned behind his hand and rolled his shoulders. “Surely he asked for Father.”
Sean shook his head, his dark hair wild for a moment. “Nay. He asked for you!
He asked if you were back from the future.”
Luke’s heart began to pound. “What precisely did he say, Sean?” His hangover merely a nuisance now, he pulled on his boots and straightened his clothes. “Did he talk to you?”
“Nay,” Sean said. “But his voice was strong when he asked for you. Like it used to be… before.”
“Aye. Will Uncle Seamus still be there when we arrive?”
Sean knew full well what Luke meant, and the two brothers hurried through the dell toward Uncle Seamus’s house.
“Mrs. O’Grady says he was like usual this morning,” Sean said in between
breaths. “But then he cleared, like. And then he asked for you. I heard him, Luke. Plain as day.”
Luke prayed this meant the man would mend. He knew in his heart that it would take nothing save a miracle to restore Seamus to his family. Like the medical miracle that was saving Violet. Could he be so lucky as to have two miracles?
They reached the house and Luke pushed open the door. Seamus sat in his chair, his eyes bright and his gaze direct. He held himself straight and tall.
Luke caught his breath. “Uncle Seamus?”
Seamus smiled, a bright expression full of the man himself. “Hello, Luke.”
Luke skidded to a stop and reminded himself to breathe. It was foolish to hope, after so much disappointment in the recent past. “Good day, Uncle Seamus.” He crouched down in front of his uncle, struggling to keep his nerves steady. “How are you?”
“I’m well, my lad.” Seamus peered around Luke. “Did you bring the girl?”
Luke blinked. “What?”
“You mean the gold, Uncle,” Sean said from behind Luke. “Did Luke bring the gold?”
The man didn’t seem to hear Luke’s little brother.
“The girl, Luke,” Seamus said. “We need the girl. God, has it been thirty years?”
“What girl?” Sean asked. “The little Pixie?”
Luke shrugged and put the question to Seamus. “What girl, Uncle?”
Seamus laughed and slapped his knee. “We be needin’ Luke’s love. Bring the Pixie what took…” He trailed off, his bushy brows furrowed.
“The gold, Uncle?” Sean asked.
Seamus said nothing to Sean, but moved his lips. Luke prayed silently. Let him keep his mind long enough to speak it!
“Bring the Pixie what took…,” Luke prompted.
A bright smile wreathed their uncle’s face. “Your heart!”
Luke sat back on his heels, his pulse pounding. Seamus withdrew back into his dim mind as he watched, talk of Brianna finished.
“Your Pixie, Luke,” Sean marveled aloud. “He said to bring her here.”
“Aye.” Luke shot to his feet, his heart racing. “Dare I, Sean? Do you think it’ll work?”
Sean shrugged. “’Tis worth a try. The good Lord knows we’ve tried everything else to bring him around.”
Luke barked out a laugh at his brother’s answer. He clapped him on the shoulder.
“Aye, ‘tis worth a try,” Luke echoed. He touched the amber still tied around his neck and it throbbed once in response. “I’ll go, Sean. And I’ll bring her back.”
Luke hurried to his house and changed into his future clothes. His hand shook as he tied the laces on his sneakers and he fisted them. Pray, let this work. He stood and took a breath. Pray, let Brianna accept his love.
As he walked toward the door, a pounding came again.
“Luke!”
Ah, Patrick. Luke crossed to the door and pulled it finding a fuming Patrick standing there. Luke inclined his head.
“Patrick,” he said.
Luke moved to walk past him but Patrick grabbed his arm. “Sean says you be goin’ back.”
Luke shrugged off his hold. “Aye.”
Patrick’s brow furrowed. “But, what of us?”
Luke smiled then. Would Patrick understand what Luke was hoping for? What he prayed would work?
“I aim to bring her back with
me, brother,” Luke said. “And marry her, if she’ll have me.”
Patrick’s mouth gaped open. Luke wouldn’t waste another moment of precious time. He couldn’t. He walked past him and toward the clearing, with Patrick following close behind.
“She be bringin’ the gold with her?” Patrick asked.
Luke waved one hand through the air. “I’m going to bring the lass here, Patrick.
Uncle said nothing of the gold. I don’t know if it matters.”
That stopped Patrick. Luke continued on.
“What matters then, Luke?” Patrick called.
Luke stopped and turned, unable to keep a grin from his face. “Love, brother.
Love.”
That shut Patrick’s mouth tight. Luke made the clearing and held on to the amber.
The spinning, the rushing wind, the twisting in his gut and he was back in his bachelor apartment. He waited several moments for the place to settle and his heart to steady.
Glancing about the living room, he knew he wouldn’t miss this place. Brianna’s comfortable little house, though? Easy, Luke. No use counting on matters that had yet to reveal themselves.
The clock on the wall told him where she would be. The coffee shop. He tore out
of the apartment, bound for a future of a different kind. His future.
* * *
Brianna went about her work at the counter, smiling on cue as she served the
patrons their lunch. With Violet on the mend, she had little to worry about from that quarter. Mrs. Henning would keep all in order until Brianna returned this evening. For another lonely evening. Had Luke only been gone for three days? When he’d gone home that first time, she’d known he would return. Now she knew he wouldn’t, and whether he was gone three days or three months wouldn’t make a bit of difference.
“Brianna!”
She stilled at the familiar voice. Could it be? She turned toward the door. Luke stood there, hesitancy in his manner. His eyes looked uncertain, his hands held stiff at his sides.
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