Timeless (34 page)

“It’s been over a year, but I admit I was still smarting from being led around by my—libido. She used sex as an incentive. As soon as the dig was over, she jilted me and moved on to another job.”

Her gaze slashed to his face, angry, accusing. A flush colored her cheekbones. “She’s a barracuda. And you actually thought I was like her?”

Quinn eyed her warily. “No—well I wasn’t sure at first, then I told myself you were daft.”

He caught her wrist before her doubled fist could connect with his arm and, using her momentum, folded her arm behind her back. He pulled her into a narrow alleyway between two stores out of the line of the foot traffic. “Then I realized you were more than just an archaeologist on a dig. I’d dreamed about you long before I met you, Regan. And there you were. I thought I was coming unhinged.”

She twisted to try and break his hold, and he tightened his grip.

Her lips thinned. “And you pushed me away.”

“How else was I supposed to behave? It felt like I was being led around again, but this time by something I couldn’t understand—didn’t want to understand.”

She shoved against him. He leaned back against the gray stone structure behind him and drew her hard against him.

Her dark gaze glinted with frustration and anger. “Everything I wanted to accomplish has been put on hold so we can deal with this. I want this over. I want my life back.”

Quinn released her hands and held her, the embrace growing comforting. “It will be over soon. We’re going to figure this out.”

Her breath fanned warm through his sweater as she pressed her face into him, her body tense against his. “And after—if things are changed?” Her voice sounded muffled.

“I’m not going to forget what we have between us, Regan.” Fate wouldn’t be so cruel as to tear them apart after all Coira had done to ensure they found each other. She’d instigated it in some way. He believed that. Knew it in his bones. But was it real?

He cupped Regan’s chin and raised it to press his lips to hers. The eagerness of her response lanced through him, reaching deep. Deeper than anything he’d experienced with Marissa.

He drew back. Regan’s dark eyes swept his face. “I wish we could—” She shook her head. “We’re going to be late.”

“She’ll just have to wait.” This connection, this sharing was more important right now. His lips claimed hers again.

*****

Quinn turned west off the A7 to Rosewell, a small community outside Edinburgh.

They pulled into the driveway of the hypnotist for their appointment. A sense of foreboding hit Regan as she eyed the sprawling two-story house. It lay at the end of a street with four other houses.

“Are you sure about this?” Quinn asked.

She squelched the desire to press a hand against her stomach where nervous nausea hit her in waves. ”This might not even work.”

Quinn raised one brow, his expression wry. “And pigs can fly, too.”

She laughed, the sound reflecting her nervousness. “We need to know when the baby was born. We may be able to save him.”

Quinn raked his fingers through his hair. “Regan.”

She raised a hand. “I know. We need to accept this, Quinn. Commit to it if we want to do what needs to be done. I’ve already done that. I need you to do it, too.”

He shoved open the car door. Regan exited the car more slowly. Saying she was committed didn’t relieve the fear that turned her insides to liquid. She focused on Bryce and the pain Coira had experienced at his death. If what she learned could spare her and Braden that, it would be worth it. She drew a deep breath.

She grasped Quinn’s hand and drew strength from his touch.

His fierce expression, so similar to what he wore when they made love, kicked her heartbeat into a gallop.

“Whatever you experience, it’s already happened. It can’t hurt you,” he said, his voice raspy.

Couldn’t it? She and Coira were connected in impossible ways.

He gave her hand a brief squeeze. “Whatever happens, I’ll be with you.”

“I’m depending on it.”

*****

Dr. Reinhart was nothing like Regan had pictured her. With her plump matronly figure and dark hair lightly sprinkled with gray at the temples, she looked like someone’s favorite granny. After greeting them at the door she seated them in what appeared to be her office. Though no bookcases lined the walls, professional journals fanned out atop a cherrywood coffee table. A flowered couch set before it, bracketed by matching end tables.

A decorative screen shielded the fireplace taking up the center of one wall. The doctor’s desk blocked the French doors leading out to a patio, but not the view of the garden. Two wing-backed chairs faced the desk.

As soon as Regan and Quinn sat down, Dr. Reinhart’s demeanor turned professional. “You realize this isn’t a game or a parlor trick, though there are acts around that make it into one.”

Her upper crust English accent sounded clipped after so many weeks of listening to brogues of one kind or another. “When I spoke with you earlier, you said you were interested in past life regression. What makes you think you need to go back in time to solve your problems?”

Regan fought the urge to look at Quinn and leaned forward to rest her forearms on her knees. “I’m not trying to solve my problems with this. I want to find out if I’ve had another life before this one.”

“I can tell you straight up, if you have, you won’t discover it by doing this. Whatever you say won’t be dependable. It will most likely be generated from your imagination.”

“So you don’t believe in repressed memories or reincarnation?” Quinn asked.

“Repressed memory, but not past lives. Hypnosis should be used, as a last resort, to help a patient discover what has caused their emotional problems, not to find out about the impossible.”

Quinn’s gaze met Regan’s and he raised a brow.

“You’ve done this before haven’t you? It isn’t dangerous?” she asked.

“Yes, I’ve done it, and it isn’t dangerous. But you don’t know what thoughts or feelings might arise from it. And if you’re already having flashbacks, it could intensify those feelings. What I’m getting at is I don’t want to create more suffering by taking you to a place where you may imagine more pain.”

“I’m not having flashbacks, just dreams. And if you don’t believe in reincarnation or past life regression, why did you agree to do this?”

Dr. Reinhart shrugged, her expression remaining neutral. “For the money.”

Quinn shook his head.

Before he could say anything to antagonize the hypnotist, Regan said, “I’m not going to hold you responsible for anything that happens. I’ll be happy to sign a release.”

“Good. I’d like you to.” She removed a single sheet of paper from her desktop and extended it to Regan.

The form said she promised not to hold the doctor responsible for any lasting trauma the session might cause. If she hadn’t been traumatized by everything that had happened thus far, nothing could bother her. She passed it on to Quinn to read before signing it and handing it back to the doctor.

“You’re absolutely certain you want to do this?” Dr. Reinhart asked.

Coira, Braden, and Bryce should have been in the forefront of her mind, but Quinn’s face was what she focused on. If they did this and discovered what they had to do to free themselves from the visions, what would happen? What would happen if they didn’t? What if Coira and Braden were trapped in a never-ending loop of pain until something or someone freed them?

Coira’s expression of compassion and fear as she had reached for her hand to free her from the stone played through her mind. Coira would have pulled her from it, despite the danger to herself. She owed her at least this much.

“Yes, I want to do this.”

CHAPTER 30

Dr. Reinhart lit a candle. Following her instructions, Quinn flipped off the lights and drew the blinds. The room grew dark. Regan sat in the chair before the desk. The candle’s pale yellow flame touched her skin with an ethereal glow.

The word “Stop” pressed against Quinn’s teeth. Jesus, what were they doing here?

“Concentrate on the candle, Regan. The candlelight is bathing you in warmth and relaxation. Let every muscle in your body go lax,” Dr. Reinhart said.

Anxiety gnawing at him, Quinn drew the doctor’s chair from behind the desk, placed it next to Regan’s, and took a seat. The doctor shot him a frown, but continued. Her voice fell into an unobtrusive monotone. “Take a deep breath and let it go. With that breath you’re blowing out all your stress and tension.”

Regan drew a deep breath and released it on a sigh.

“Now, start with your jaw. Your jaw is relaxing, falling open a little it’s so relaxed. The muscles in your neck are loosening, shedding their tension. Now your shoulders are relaxing, your arms. Every muscle is growing limp.”

Regan’s lips parted. Her breathing grew shallower, slower. Quinn leaned forward to watch her expression. Dr. Reinhart continued on, her voice drone-like.

The deeper she drew Regan into the trance, the tighter Quinn’s shoulder muscles knotted. The depth of her trance during her first dive in Loch Maree had been life-threatening. What if she should go so deep the hypnotist couldn’t bring her back? Was that possible? God, why hadn’t they discussed this more?

“Your eye lids are growing heavy, so heavy you can’t keep them open. So heavy you have to let them close.”

Regan’s dark lashes fluttered then lay still against her cheeks. Her breathing appeared shallow, and her skin pale against the darkness of her hair and brows.

An air current circulated around the room, cool and moist, and with it the scent of herbs, sage and rosemary. Dr. Reinhart frowned and glanced in Quinn’s direction.

Chill bumps rose on Quinn’s forearms. His heart began to pound against his ribs. There was more than hypnosis at work in the room. He swallowed back his anxiety. “Ask Regan the questions she gave you.”

“But I haven’t taken her back, yet.”

“Braden?”

Quinn jerked in surprise at the sound of a woman’s voice interrupting their conversation. It was Regan speaking, but her vocal tone sounded huskier, and she’d rolled the R in a brogue she didn’t speak.

Dr. Reinhart’s gasp jerked Quinn’s attention to Regan’s face.

Her eyes were open, the irises no longer dark blue but a blue-green in color. Was that a trick of the candlelight? She focused on him with such intensity it sent a chill coursing down his body.

She spoke in a rush. The Gaelic syntax she used fell on his ears like strange familiar music. She repeated the question, and he captured the rhythm of her words.

“Braden how is it you are here?” she asked.

Though he had spoken Gaelic all his life, the unusual cadence of her words gave him pause. Would his grasp of the language be up to the task? He drew a deep breath. He’d been a part of Braden, was a part of the man. He knew how he felt and thought. His familiarity through his dreams would help him. He could do this. “To see you, Coira, and to ask you some questions.”

“Of what would you ask me?”

“Are you well?”

“Aye.”

“And the bairn?”

Her smile sprang free radiant with joy. Though Regan never touched her stomach, she moved her hand as though to caress a rounded tummy. “Aye, the babe is growing.”

“When do you expect him, Coira?”

“You know ’tis due the first of November.”

So he had been right. They still had time.

“What the hell is going on here?” Dr. Reinhart asked. Her features, powder pale, appeared stiff with control. A twitch worried one eye. The cool, moist air looped around the room, brushed her hair, and caused it to move against her cheek like tiny fingers. She jerked and pushed it aside. Her expression tightened with anxiety as her gaze darted around the room.

Quinn waved, motioning for her to keep her voice down. “You said you didn’t believe in past lives, but Regan has one. That’s what’s going on here. Part of that life is in the room with us.”

Her features stiffened. “That’s impossible.”

“It isn’t.” Quinn turned back to Regan. “How long have I been away?”

“Five full moons have passed since you left. I am so pleased to see you. You are well?” She reached for him and Quinn shifted his chair close to hold her hands. How would Braden greet her after so long a time apart? He bent his head to kiss her hands.

“Aye, I am well. But I have dreamed of you and the babe often. One dream disturbed me. When your time comes, if I am not there, I dinna wish you to allow Nathrach or Ross to be alone with the bairn. Keep the midwife close to you and the babe.”

Her features settled into solemn lines. “Has my gift become a part of yours, Braden?”

So Braden, too, had a gift. “Aye, mayhap a wee bit.” The trust, the love he read in her expression tweaked his guilt. “’Tis truly afraid for you I am, Coira. And the bairn.”

“Aye, I can see that. What place is this? Where are we?” she asked looking about. “This is a dream, is it not?”

“Aye ‘tis a dream. And ’tis a grand house. But the place doesn’t matter. The future is what is important. Your future and the babe’s.”

“Have you become a wizard now? A soothsayer of what is to come?”

“Aye, in this I have.” He paused. “The stones will play a part in that, too.”

“As we have both known they would.” Acceptance and grief flickered across her face.

“We dinna have to accept it, Coira. There are actions we may take to prevent what is to come. You can go away from the area until I return.”

“Would you have me return to Uist after all that happened there?”

Quinn revisited dream images of force fires and threats breathed against her. Were those from Uist? “No. Is there not some place you can be safe, Coira?”

“Only within the circle. The others are afraid of the power there.”

“But not Ross.”

“Nay, he is not afraid. Of late he has been more open to the ways of the old ones.”

Her tone triggered an urgent protective need. If they were to save the bairn, she had to know she couldn’t trust him. “You must be wary of him. Keep yourself and the bairn safe at all costs, Coira. Trust no one.”