Falling Through Time: Mists of Fate - Book Four - Brossura

Scanlon, Nancy

Brossura

ISBN 10: 1682303136 ISBN 13: 9781682303139

Casa editrice: Diversion Books, 2018

Riassunto

Time, worlds, and hearts collide in the fourth and final book of Nancy Scanlon's mesmerizing time-travel Romance series, perfect for fans of Diana Gabaldon, and filled with "angst and simmering sensuality." (Publishers Weekly)

From the day the Fates made him the warrior to train and lead a group of time-traveling clansmen, Reilly O'Malley has gone into every battle, verbal or physical, certain of victory. Protector of the O'Rourke clan, knight in shining armor—he has the full confidence of a man who knows he will live forever. But what about love?

Gwendolyn Allen has been in love with Reilly since she met him more than a decade ago, but he's shown no interest in her other than friendship. She's decided it's finally time for her to move on with her life, but the Fates have a different idea…

When the pair find themselves together for three weeks prior to a wedding, the Fates finally decide to step in. They give Reilly a taste of what his life would be like without their protection, and suddenly everything Reilly knows is shaken to its core. When his otherworldly abilities begin to fall through time, Reilly may have to trust in something other than fate.

He might just have to trust in love.

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She was also keenly aware that while Reilly did show her one side of himself, there was another, more uncivilized side. The last time they’d been in the Middle Ages, she remained at the castle while Colin, Reilly, and a slew of others headed off on a rescue mission. He’d come back covered in large, damp, dark, reddish-brown spots. His sword was caked with dirt and grime, and his forehead was smeared with dried blood. He’d assured her that none of the spots on his clothing were his blood, and he’d redirected her attention to her friend, who had needed her very badly at the time.
Gwen supposed she never let herself think of what Reilly actually did whilst about the business of saving Ellie. But now, she’d seen for herself what he was capable of; he’d slain a man. One minute, the guy was having a chat, and the next, he was lifeless on the ground.
She felt the bile rise up again, but she forced it to stay down and swiftly tucked the memory into a box in the deepest recesses of her mind. She locked it in the same area labeled Venezuela, then decided she needed some fortification.
Swinging her legs over the side of the surprisingly comfortable mattress, Gwen’s feet found the lambswool floor covering. She dug her toes in, relishing the softness, and glanced around her. Mary’s bed was empty and fully made. All of the walls were chalk-white, and the ceiling above her was the thatch of the roof. She’d read once that the bed hangings were originally to catch any vermin that would fall from the thatch, preventing a nasty wakeup in the middle of the night.
She strongly hoped that her bed hangings were for decorative purposes only.
The room itself wasn’t quite cold, but a draft from the thatch drifted down to her. She hurried toward the clothing at the other end of the house, and saw with relief that a gown of forest green had already been laid out. She quickly changed, grateful the laces were in the front, and realized with a start that the dress had been tailored to fit her perfectly.
Baffled, she slipped her shoes on and cautiously made her way down the winding staircase, back into the kitchen, where a delicious warmth and smell emitted from the large hearth. Mary stood, stirring something in a large kettle, and greeted her with a sunny smile.
“Gwendolyn, good morning! Reilly will be back in a moment. He’s gathering my eggs, the good lad. He always insists on doing the chores when he’s home.”
“He’s a good son,” Gwen replied, accepting a steaming cup from her. She looked into it. Oatmeal? Maybe. She didn’t care; she was hungry. But first... “Um, where’s the gardrobe?”
“Oh, we don’t have one. We’ve chamber pots in the rooms and Finn – that’s Reilly’s da, God rest his soul – built a little house a ways away. Reilly calls it an outhouse. That lad and his future words.” She chuckled, and her dark eyes twinkled. “Anyway, it’s out the back, to the right. You’ll see it. I’ll keep your porridge warm.”
Gwen thanked her and gratefully handed her back the cup. She went in search of the outhouse, and, after taking care of her needs, she headed back toward the house, only to almost run fully into Reilly’s chest.
“Good morning, Gwendolyn. Sleep alright?”
She surreptitiously studied him. He looked the same as he always did, albeit the lines around his eyes were tight. His full lips, strong jaw, chiseled cheekbones...all the same. Still breath-stealing, absolutely, drop-dead gorgeous.
And unreadable. He had his defenses up today, and while Gwen could usually read him like an open book, when he shuttered himself, even she couldn’t penetrate his self-made fortress.
“I did, thanks. Any ideas where the dress came from?”
He smiled. “Aye. My mother altered it last night for you.”
Gwen sighed with jealousy. “I wish I could sew like that. She got my size exactly right!”
“She’s a master seamstress. She’s one the tapestry weavers for the laird, and she sells some of her work. It’s what supports her out here. The nearest house is almost two kilometers away.” He handed her a basket with some eggs, then picked up two buckets filled with milk.
“So just her and your sister live out here?”
“Well, it turns out my sister married a few weeks ago.”
“You sound a little put out by that,” Gwen noted.
He shook his head. “I’m not upset by it. But the Fates have changed things. I’ve visited my sister in her future, and in that visit, she...” He looked heavenward. “She never married.”
“Whoa,” Gwen breathed. “They can change the past?”
“I didn’t think so. But it seems they can.”
“Can they change the future, too?”
Reilly frowned. “I’ve no idea.” He shook himself a little and looked ahead to the house. “But now it’s just my mam. I’m going to have speech with her about moving closer to the castle for protection. It was dangerous for the two of them to be out here, but it’s even more dangerous for a woman living alone.”
They reentered the kitchen together, and Reilly put the milk on the floor by the hearth while Gwen placed the basket on the center island. They brought the bowls of porridge to the table and sat down to eat together.
“What do you want to do today, lass?”
The question from Reilly had Gwen raising her eyebrow. “This is your show, Ry. I’ve no idea what’s available.”
“The final harvest finished just this past moon,” Mary offered. “The village games start today.”
Gwen’s eyes lit up. “Village games? What does that mean?”
Reilly answered. “They’re a celebration. In your time, it’s called Mabon. It’s the autumnal equinox, and here, it’s an important point in the year when we have one more night by the light of a full moon to finish the harvest. Once that happens, a week of celebration and games are held by the clan in the village center.”
“Aye, the games are a sight. It’s a time when the men show their strength, and the laird chooses new guardsmen to bring to his castle,” Mary added.
“What kind of games do they play?”
Reilly pushed his empty trencher away from him and sat back slowly. “Games of strength and warrior skill, mostly.”
“Like the Highland Games?” she asked excitedly. “I saw those one year in New York. It was crazy, these guys were lobbing telephone poles!”
Mary look intrigued. “Pray tell, what are telephone poles?”
“Never you mind,” Reilly muttered. To Gwen, he replied, “’Tis much different than those games. There are sword fighting competitions, wrestling, archery, and strength tests. Arm-wrestling, if you can believe it. Endurance challenges, too. But the highlights are the songs and poetry.”
“Really?” Gwen asked skeptically.
“Aye,” Mary confirmed. “The celebration reconnects us to our ancestors, and we do that through our storytellers.”
“While the prize for the strength contestants is to become part of the garrison, the prize for storytellers is the equivalent of one year’s salary and an invitation to the castle to entertain important visitors,” Reilly informed her. “’Tis a great honor, bestowed to only one.”
“Oh, let’s definitely go to this.” She rubbed her hands together. “Can women enter any of the contests?”
“Of course, though we’re not allowed to join the castle garrison if we win,” Mary replied, gathering their trenchers. “Do you care to try your hand at something, lass?”
Gwen shrugged. “I wouldn’t say no if there was something that interested me.”
Mary beamed at her, then carried the dishes to the hearth. At Reilly’s pointed look, Gwen shrugged, bemused. “What? I wouldn’t.”
“You would say no if I said not to, aye?” he prompted.
She grimaced. “Right. Or if you said not to.”
“Good answer,” he murmured, so only she could hear. “The rules, Gwen. ’Tis for your safety.”
“Then we shall go,” Mary declared, bustling back over to them. “Your dress is too fine for the games. Ye’ll need something else.”
Gwen waited as Mary pondered, then reflexively smiled when Mary’s face brightened. “Ah, yes! The cobalt dress.”
“Blue?” Gwen replied dubiously. She fingered a lock of her hair. “I think it’ll clash with my hair.”
Mary frowned. “Clash? Do you mean mismatch?” At Gwen’s nod, Mary tsked. “Think of a fire. The hottest part of the flames are blue, and the cooler parts tend to be a blend of colors, including the exact shade of your hair. They all work together in nature; why wouldn’t they work on you?”
“Listen to her,” Reilly advised. “She’s not a master seamstress without merit.”
“I’ll wear whatever you want me to wear,” Gwen replied, unsure. “It’ll just be new for me, that’s all.”
A few moments later, Mary had the dress downstairs and was holding it against Gwen, as Gwen studied herself in the smooth mirror on the wall.
“I had no idea I could wear this color,” she breathed. “I always thought it’d make my hair look more orange.”
“Nay, not at all.” Mary smoothed her hand over Gwen’s long tresses, and placed them over her shoulder against the material. “‘’Tisn’t is a wondrous thing, when we give a second chance to something we thought was a lost cause?”
It took everything Gwen had not to scan the room for Reilly; instead, she merely inclined her head. “Yes,” she agreed quietly. “It certainly is.”

Dettagli dell'edizione

• Editore: Diversion Books
• Data di pubblicazione: 2018
• Lingua: Inglese
• ISBN 10: 1682303136
• ISBN 13: 9781682303139
• Rilegatura: Copertina flessibile
• Numero di pagine: 308
• Contatto del produttore: non disponibile
• Persona responsabile: non disponibile