****
Patrick stared at Lorraine, crying in a crumpled heap on the floor of the cottage. He trembled as he stood there, every muscle in his body aching to hold her. He couldn’t let himself give in to temptation, for he feared if he took her in his arms, he’d never let her go.
He squatted before her and kindly lifted her tear-stricken face. Tenderly wiping her cheek with his thumb, he looked at her for a few quiet moments, knowing he was standing at a point of no return.
“Do you love him?” Patrick asked, his voice quaking. He hated the sound of it, hoping she’d not think him weak. What he was about to do required more strength than he thought he possessed. If she pitied him, he dreaded the amount he’d have to summon in order to resist her.
Lorraine gazed at him, confused. He couldn’t let her sympathetic eyes deter him from the task at hand. “I said, do you love him? Answer me, Rain.”
“With all my heart, I love him,” she professed. “I can’t live without him. He is my life. My reason for living. And he’s gone.” She glanced back at the empty winding road. “I’ve lost him again. He’ll never come back.”
Patrick disregarded the pain in his heart and cupped her face, pulling her attention back to him. “Do you trust me?”
“W-what are you talking about?”
“It’s a simple question, Rain. For the love of God, do you trust me?”
“Of course, I trust you, but—”
“Then promise me you’ll stay here while I talk with Leif.”
She stammered, trying to understand his demand.
“I’m going to fix this,” he reassured her. “I’m going to make everything all right, but you have to promise you’ll stay here. Understand?”
Lorraine nodded hopelessly. “What are you going to say to him?”
Patrick felt his spirits plummet. “I don’t know yet. I’ll figure it out.”
“He’ll never listen to you.”
He wiped her tears, one by one, his thoughts only on making her smile again. “Never say never.”
Chapter Thirty-one
Leif removed Thor’s headstall, and threw it wildly across the barn. It didn’t do much to relieve the rage fuming inside him. He needed to vent, to punch something into next year. Patrick’s face would fit the bill nicely, and for a second, the idea tempted him to race back up the road.
The image of Patrick holding Lorraine’s hand ate at him like acid, burning and stinging all the way through. It was bad enough that she’d wasted no time replacing him, but to know it was with someone he knew and respected—at least, as a knowledgeable farrier—was twice as hard.
He’d only met Patrick the one time, when the farrier had gone out of his way to shoe Thor after a sale. Though their encounter was brief, Leif could tell he was a genuine good fellow. They’d made conversation during the hour it took to fit his horse with size four shoes and he recalled Patrick charging him next to nothing for the job. Making his acquaintance was the only thing that saved the guy. Leif would rather not have known him at all so he’d feel no remorse after breaking his nose.
Kicking the stall door open, he led his horse out of the barn and into the back lot. Charging toward the rock wall, Freyja met them at the entrance, nickering as she always did, unaware of her owner’s anger. With his blood coursing through his veins, Leif took out his vengeance on the stone gate, tearing down each boulder to open a gap in the rock fence. For once, he was glad the island was absent hinged gates. He took great pleasure in throwing every single one to the ground, snarling as he dismantled it.
Fortunate for Leif, his Friesians’ gentle demeanors allowed him to expel the necessary energy without stirring them into a frenzy. They stared at him, ears high, until his temper subsided.
Hands on his hips, Leif drew in several long breaths and stared into the distant horizon, the picture of Lorraine hand in hand with Patrick still dancing in his head. If not for Thor nudging him, he would’ve stood there for hours, stewing over how foolish he felt.
He turned and ran his hand down Thor’s muzzle, the horse’s docile disposition soothing the tension from his rigid body. He patted its neck and buried his nose in its mane, leaning on the horse for support. “I don’t want to let her go,” Leif muttered quietly.
“Then don’t.”
Leif whipped around at the voice behind him, locking eyes with the last man he expected to see. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Patrick took a step forward and picked up one of the rocks from the ground. “We have to talk.”
“I’ve nothing to say to you,” Leif growled. “And I doubt you’ve anything I’d want to hear.”
“Even if it pertained to Lorraine’s happiness?”
Bastard. He never dreamed Patrick would be so audacious as to traipse upon his land and flaunt his love for Lorraine in his face. “If she’s happy with you, then I’m happy for her. You two have my blessing. Satisfied?”
“Hardly,” Patrick uttered.
Leif ignored him, leading Thor into the pasture. He didn’t know how much of this he could take. The man was an absolute idiot to confront him. He tried to keep his emotions in check as he unfastened the halter and slipped it over his horse’s ears, hoping by the time he turned around, Patrick would be gone.
No such luck.
Patrick had already begun gathering the scattered rocks and piling them back into place, killing him with kindness. Leif stormed forward and lifted him to his feet by the collar of his shirt. “Get off my land. Now!”
Patrick didn’t back down. Instead, he smiled. “It’s amazing how familiar this is.”
Leif furrowed his brow and tightened his grip on Patrick’s clothing. “How familiar what is?”
“You and I. In love with the same woman. Only last time, you didn’t back down. You couldn’t stand the thought of another man loving her. So, why are you giving up now? It’s not like you.”
Leif threw him backward, uncomfortable with Patrick’s scrutiny. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”
“You would if you weren’t so stubborn.”
Leif clenched his teeth until he thought they’d crush under the pressure. His hands balled into tight fists, bristling at the insult.
“Why is it so hard for you to believe in the truth, Northman?” Patrick continued. “The clues are all around you. You even dug them up beneath your very house. Do we have to spell it out for you?” He stepped closer, boldly getting within arms reach. “When you and I first met, and you told me what you did for a living, I thought to myself, this will be a piece of cake. Between Lorraine’s dreams and your knowledge of historical events, all I had to do was get the two of you in the vicinity of each other and let history repeat itself, as it often does. And it worked like a charm. Nature took its course, and everything was going according to plan, until you got scared.”
Leif wasn’t frightened. He wasn’t frightened of anything when it came to Lorraine. He was ready commit himself to her, to blindly jump into the relationship based on nothing but a gut feeling. He couldn’t stand the thought of her leaving Ireland and toyed with the idea of spending the rest of his life with her. Loving her with all his heart and making her his wife was not the action of a frightened man. It was the notion of why she loved him that had caused him to pull away.
Leif had tried to imagine himself as a reincarnated soul, but the idea was just too much for him to handle. If he had lived a previous life as a Norse warrior and husband, then why didn’t he remember? Why did she have all those memories and he didn’t? “Lorraine dreamt about me?”
“For as long as I’ve known her,” Patrick admitted. “And it was always the same dream, you kissing her. She knew the feel of your lips before she met you. Once she saw you, she knew exactly who you were. Trust me, she was skeptical at first, but after you kissed her at Dún Dúchathair, all doubt had vanished. Not even centuries of time could erase the feel of love’s first kiss. Honestly, I’m a little surprised you didn’t feel anything when your lips me
t hers.”
Leif averted his eyes, trying to hide the swarm of emotions that assembled amid his thoughts at the mention of their first kiss.
“You did feel something, didn’t you? Admit it, you flashed back to a moment when you were with Mara.”
The name ‘Mara’ caught Leif off guard like a sobering douse of ice-cold water in the face. He’d only recently learned of the name himself, and never spoke of it to anyone. Not even Lorraine. How would Patrick know the name of the woman he’d seen in his dream and apply it to her as Leif had?
Unless...
Leif shook the thought from his mind. He refused to believe. And even if what Patrick said were true, he didn’t enjoy being interrogated. As far as he was concerned, it was none of Patrick’s business what he felt when it came to Lorraine. They were precious moments and he sure as hell wasn’t going to share any of them to prove the man’s point.
Patrick looked as if he were waiting for the other shoe to drop. Leif simply crossed his arms in defiance.
Patrick heaved a breath of frustration. “Why do you fight this? I figured you of all people would be thrilled to know your past, that you were a man of great importance in your time. You were a wealthy warrior and chieftain from the fjords of Norway, who fell in love with a Connacht princess and made the ultimate sacrifice to protect her. How can you not embrace this incredible revelation and realize you’ve been given another chance to be with the woman you died for? It’s not as if this happens every day, Leif. Put your damn pride aside and seize this opportunity before it’s too late!”
Leif stared at him. “Who are you?”
“I’m the man who spared you from the crimes of your evil brother, Domaldr. As your twin, he posed as you to steal your wife and wreak havoc over the Connacht king. I saved you, so you could come for her. And you did. You brought an army, twice the size of your brother’s, and left a field of dead bodies in your wake. But you still needed to breach the king’s walls. You needed me in order to be rejoined with your wife and secure a truce with her father. I know Lorraine’s told you all of this, but she failed to mention my name for she has no recollection of me. And I plan to keep it that way.”
Leif advanced in Patrick’s direction, stopping a few inches from his face. “Give me a name.”
He saw the muscles in Patrick’s jaw clench. “I’m Breandán Mac Liam. I’m the man you hated as much then as you do now. But no matter what happens after this, Lorraine must never know my identity. Swear you’ll keep my secret.”
“Why should I care?” Leif asked snidely.
“Because if she finds out, I fear you’ll never have all of her love as you should. She’ll remember that I, too, loved her and was married to her.”
Leif wanted to laugh in spite of himself. “If you love her so much, then why are you so adamant that I take her from you? Why push the woman you once married into another man’s arms?”
“For reasons I’d think you’d understand, or at least Dægan would. Dægan would give anything to make her happy because that’s what true love is.” Patrick turned from him and gazed into the distance, as if he could see the memories from his past playing out amongst the nostalgic fields of Inis Mór. “When I came to Mara, seven years after your death, she was lost without you. She bore your son, Lochlann, and raised him to be proud of his Norse father. But the void you left behind was great. She was never the same again. Because of my love for her, I told her that if I could, I would gladly switch places with you, just so she could be happy again. I think she believed me. But even after she and I married, I could never make her as happy as when she was with you. Believe me, I tried. God, I tried.” He faced Leif now, a sense of conviction burning in his eyes. “For whatever reason, I’ve been given that chance. To sacrifice my love for her so that I could give her the one thing that would make her truly happy. I know you love her. You wouldn’t have come back for her if you didn’t. Please, don’t walk away. She needs you and I know there’s a part, deep down inside of you, that needs her as well.”
Leif closed his eyes. He could feel the earnest of Patrick’s words and couldn’t help but be moved by them. The sincerity was overwhelming. He would’ve liked to agree to the man’s heartfelt plea, but he knew that rousing an emotion was not the same as feeling it. His heart and mind were void of all that may or may not have happened from a previous life. He had no memory of a historical past and, therefore, couldn’t connect.
He turned his back on Patrick and began gathering the stones at his feet. “You have the wrong man.”
Leif couldn’t see Patrick’s reaction, but he felt the man’s scorn nonetheless.
“Has nothing I said meant anything to you?” Patrick’s voice rose as he continued to disparage him. “How can you be so aloof when the woman you love is dying up there? Tear by precious tear, her heart is breaking because you are too stubborn to take her in your arms and love her like you know you want to!”
Leif picked up the rocks and methodically placed them on top of one another, striving to let Patrick’s words bounce off his back. Try as he may, they brought him to his knees, each one hitting its mark on his heart. He sat there, bruised and powerless, aching to be the haughty warrior Patrick claimed him to be, yearning to be the man Lorraine had dreamt about all her life. But without those memories, he was nothing more than a puppet on a string, performing a role for the sake of gratifying someone else's wishes.
Patrick lunged toward him, and wrenched him to his feet. “Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t love her.”
Leif shoved his hands away, his blood boiling now. “I don’t have to tell you anything. Now get off my land before I throw you off!”
It was as if Patrick didn’t even hear his warning. He came back at him, tooth and nail. “What kind of man are you? You spend all this time with Lorraine, intimately I might add, and yet you cast her away like some whore you picked up on the corner block? Is that what you think she’d like to hear? That the man she loves with her whole heart and soul is nothing but a two-bit seducing philanderer?”
It happened before Leif could stop it. He drove his fist hard and accurate, connecting with Patrick’s face, knocking him off balance. Attempting to pursue, he swung his arm back to deliver another and stopped in his tracks.
Patrick erected himself, spitting blood from his mouth, and stared, daring him to do it again. Leif stepped back, breathing hard, his heart pounding in his chest.
“I didn’t come here to fight with you, Leif. I came here for Lorraine. It’s obvious you’ve built walls around your heart so thick and so tall that not even Dægan would have the might to break them down. You’ll never know who you truly are until you find out for yourself. I can only hope it’s not too late when you do.”
“You threatening me?”
“No,” Patrick stated matter-of-factly. “I wouldn’t dream of such a thing. But know this. In a few days we’ll be leaving Ireland for good. Once we get on that plane, you’ll never see Lorraine again. I won’t let her spend another lifetime pining for a man who doesn’t exist. I’ll slander your name in the ground if I have to, but when I’m finished, she won’t remember you. All she’ll know is how you threw away her love like a piece of garbage.”
“You do what you have to do.”
Patrick hung his head, touching his thumb to his swollen lip. “What Lorraine has told you is the honest truth. There’s no denying who you are. But until you go in that house and dig up the evidence for yourself, you’ll never know who you used to be. Oh, I know you’ll realize it one day. By then, I fear it’ll be too late. So, don’t be a fool and let the only woman you’ve ever loved slip through your grasp. Three days, Leif.”
Chapter Thirty-two
Seething with a degree of madness he had never known before, Leif stormed up his porch steps with an ax in his grip. He burst through the front door and trudged through the house, a man on a mission. Once and for all, he was going to prove to everyone that he was not a Viking warrior reincarnated in an archaeolog
ist’s body.
The idea sounded absurd, but he wasn’t about to let pettiness get in his way of finding the truth. As he turned the corner of the hall, Kristoff’s voice halted him as he exited the bathroom.
“There you are.” Kristoff glanced at the shiny blade, noticing the heat in his brother’s angered face. “What are you doing with that?”
Leif continued his crusade down the hall, yelling over his shoulder. “Get out of my house!”
Kristoff followed him, only to get a door slammed in his face. He tried the knob, but Leif made sure to lock it behind him. “What’s going on?”
Leif ignored his brother, staring at the double doors of his closet, the smell of rain permeating all around him. Logic told him his thatched roof had begun to leak again, but the intensity of his objective screamed for him to rip up the floor.
“I thought you and I could finish the drakkar today,” he heard Kristoff say.
“I don’t care what you do. Just get out of my house!”
“What are you doing with the ax, Leif?”
Kristoff’s persistence rubbed his last nerve. Pounding the underside of his fist upon the door, he repeated the order. “Get out!”
Leif didn’t care that his brother cursed him to hell, or that he slammed his front door as he left. The only thing on his mind was getting below the planks of the wood floor. Leaning the ax against the wall, he grabbed the closet door and jerked it off its track, carelessly throwing it aside. He did the same to the other, letting the door fall atop the first. Shoving his clothes aside, he cleared an open path for the ax, gauging where he’d chop first.
Noting the tongue and groove of the planks, he took hold of the hatchet and brought it down between the joint, splitting the floor. Since the wood was relatively old to begin with, he had no trouble breaking through. Righting the blade on another spot, he swung the ax over his head, creating the first splintered hole. He resumed the steps, destroying the floor, plank by plank, until the opening was large enough through which his shoulders could pass.
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