Time Travel Romances Boxed Set (37 page)

Aurelia had to be evicted. Then Baird would
see what was patently obvious to everyone else.

It had nearly killed Marissa to get up this
early, but it was now or never. She smiled in her most friendly
manner to the wary blonde and waved a coffee cup in greeting.

“
Good morning, darling!”
Marissa yawned luxuriously. “Did you have the most wonderful sleep
last night? I must say that I” - she giggled - “had a rather
exhausting night.”

“
Did you?” Aurelia’s
expression was stony, though she summoned a thin smile for
Elizabeth when that woman bustled near. “Has Baird come down for
breakfast yet?”

“
No, my dear, I haven’t
seen him yet today.”

“
And you won’t.” Marissa
sipped her coffee, enjoying the way the other women’s gazes
swiveled to hers. “He’s gone off to Inverness, darlings, he was up
so dreadfully early, all full of vim and vigor.” She chuckled as
though recalling morning masculine energy. “Quite unlike him to be
so…lively in the morning, but I may have had something to do with
that, darlings.”

Aurelia frowned. “Why would he go to
Inverness?”

Marissa let her characteristic laughter
dance through the air. “Why, Aurelia darling, there is nothing like
a splendid night of romance to turn a man’s mind to a more
permanent arrangement, if you know what I mean. And Baird and I
have known each other positively forever, after all.” She smirked
as she drained the coffee cup, then indicated the pot with a regal
finger. “Coffee’s cold.”

Elizabeth snatched up the pot, bright color
burning in his cheeks. “Mr. Beauforte must have had business in
Inverness this morning,” she said stoutly.

“
Mmm.” Marissa crossed her
legs, watching both women eye the expanse of leg revealed by her
short kimono. She bounced her boa-tipped mule on one toe. “Most
definitely. I would say he had business with a jeweler.”

“
I do not understand,”
Aurelia said tightly.

Marissa rolled her eyes at the blonde’s
persistent stupidity. “He’s gone to buy me a great big diamond
engagement ring,” she declared, then smiled. “And don’t worry,
darling. I’ll accept.”

Elizabeth glared at Marissa while all the
color drained out of Aurelia’s cheeks. “You cannot wed him. We are
destined to be together!”

“
Haven’t you heard,
darling?” Marissa said through gritted teeth. “Baird Beauforte
doesn’t believe in destiny.”

Her damage done in a most satisfactory way,
Marissa swept to her feet and smiled at the two dumbfounded women.
“Don’t worry about the coffee, it wasn’t very good anyway.” She
examined her nails. “And besides, I have to decide what would be
appropriate to wear to accept a wedding proposal from a terribly
eligible man.”

Marissa strode from the hall, well pleased
with herself.

If she had read Aurelia’s expression right,
the blonde would be gone within the hour.

And open season on Baird Beauforte could be
declared.

*

By eleven, Baird had climbed up the bluff
behind the town of Inverness.

The cab from the airport had dropped him in
front of the tourist center. Even though that establishment wasn’t
open at the early hour, they had a map mounted on the outside wall
to show the local places to stay.

Baird was interested in something less
practical. His heart had leapt at the historic site marked at the
top of the hill. He memorized the street names that wound their way
to the crest and started to climb.

It seemed appropriate to walk to the place
Baird was convinced he had known twelve hundred years before.

When Baird reached the summit and could see
the view of the bay, his heart clenched at its familiarity. There
was where he had said goodbye to Julian, apparently for the last
time.

Baird frowned and turned to scan the area.
The site was grassy, a few heavy stones scattered about, but devoid
of real ruins. A discreet sign was mounted further along and Baird
strolled toward it, liking the clean smell of the air. He didn’t
expect to learn anything further here, but found himself unwilling
to leave just yet.

The picture on the sign made Baird catch his
breath.

It showed a heavy silver chain, obviously
lying in a modern display cabinet. The links were thick, the catch
engraved with a reverse Z entwined with a snake.

It was his father’s badge of office.

An image assailed Baird and he did not fight
its advance.

The walls of the increasingly familiar room
where he had seen a son born and been himself dispatched to battle
rose high around him, a silvery light filtered through rain poured
into the single window.

The king braced his hands on the bottom of
the window and stared at the gray gloom outside. He had changed,
Baird noticed, his demeanor less invincible, his gray brows drawn
together with worry, his beard almost white. Where once this king
had been a man who laughed boldly in the face of adversity, now he
fretted like an old woman. His gaze was anxious and he spun hastily
at a rap on the door.

The woman who had slept in the great bed
came into the room. She too had aged, the great auburn coil of her
hair threaded with silver, though she was still a beauty. Her eyes
held a tremendous sadness and she said nothing as she held out a
sword on the flat of her two hands.

The old king cried out in pain. “No! Not my
son!”

He lunged across the room, falling on his
knees before the woman, lifting away his hands before he reclaimed
the sword that had once been his own.

“
Not Bridei,” the king
whispered hoarsely. Tears ran freely down his aged cheeks as he
looked to his wife. Baird saw that her eyes were rimmed with
red.

“
It was supposed to protect
him,” he whispered, staring at the blade as though he had been
betrayed by an old ally. “It was forged with strong runes and
blessed with power.” He swallowed. “It was supposed to bring Bridei
back to us.”

Baird’s heart lurched with his own failure.
Not only had he come too late to Dunhelm, but evidently he had died
trying to fulfill his father’s command. He had not avenged Julian’s
death as Thord, he had not upheld his father’s honor, and he had
hurt these two people who had been good to him.

Now he would lose even the whispered memory
of this great king’s love for his son.

And deservedly so.

A middle-aged man lingering behind the woman
cleared his throat pointedly. Baird recognized him from the deck of
the ship, though there was a long gash on his cheek that had not
been there before.

The king’s lips tightened as he became aware
of the man’s presence. “Tell me, Angus,” he whispered. “Were you
there?”

“
By his very side, my lord
king.”

The king closed his eyes and took a deep
breath. He seemed to tremble before Baird’s eyes, but his voice was
grim. “Tell me.”

“
Dunhelm was burning when
we arrived,” Angus said, his words falling in a flat monotone.
“Bard had already claimed the keep, though the battle was far from
won. Bridei” - his voice wavered over the name - “declared time to
be of the essence. We dove into battle, assaulting Bard’s rear
flank and surprising him to no end.”

Angus swallowed. “He almost single-handedly
turned the tide of the battle, my lord.”

The king’s lips tightened and he stared at
the blade. His wife shook her head, her tears splashing on to the
blade. Baird ached that he had caused her such pain.

“
How did he die?” the king
demanded tightly.

Angus frowned. “Bard was enraged by the
threat of victory being snatched from beneath his nose. He
challenged Bridei, who willingly matched blades with him. My lord,
it was not an easy battle. They fought in the surf, each as
determined as the other, their blades flashing in the sun.

“
Bridei showed himself
well, he fought nobly while Bard used any means he could contrive.
After many glancing blows, Bard drove his sword through Bridei’s
shoulder. We all feared our champion was lost, but he rallied to
fight again. That was all we and Hekod’s troops needed to rally and
turn back the tide of Bard’s victory. The very cliffs echoed with
the sounds of swordplay, and still the pair fought in the waves,
Bridei bleeding profusely.

“
After one arduous bout,
Bridei stumbled and Bard lunged in for the kill. We all feared the
worst, but Bridei rose at the last instant and impaled the attacker
on this very blade.”

Angus bowed his head. “He fell, then, his
strength gone and too much of his blood mingled in the salt water.
He entrusted me with his blade in those last moments and bade me
return it to you, my lord king. He bade me tell you that your will
had been done.”

A tear slipped from the old king’s eye and
trickled down his weathered cheek. “But at what price?” he
whispered, his gaze scanning the sword.

“
Where is he?” the woman
asked tightly.

“
Hekod had him raised high
and sent to his rest with full Viking ceremony, as befits a true
hero. His missive and gifts await in the hall, though he bade me
confess to you that the price of Dunhelm was far too
great.”

The woman bit her lip and turned away, her
tears falling with renewed vigor.

The king looked up at her and his lips
worked for a moment before any sound came. “I am sorry, I am so
sorry, my love. I should never have sent Bridei alone on such a
mission.” He shook his head and his tears scattered like jewels. “I
should have gone with him, I should have defended him.”

He heaved a ragged sigh and reached up to
touch his wife’s face. Her tears spilled over his hand. “My son,”
she whispered brokenly, her voice raw with disbelief. “My only son
is lost.”

The sight of her pain seemed to renew the
king. He rose to his feet and swept her into his arms, casting
aside the blade as he held her tightly. She sobbed against his
chest and clutched at his shoulders.

The king’s whispered words were fierce. “I
should never have left unprotected someone we both held so dear. I
have failed you, my love, in the one thing that mattered most.”

The king took a deep breath and looked
deeply into his wife’s eyes. “Forgive me.”

Though her eyes still shimmered with her
tears, the woman’s lips set with resolve. She reached up to frame
the king’s battered face in her hands and pressed her lips
eloquently to his.

“
You could not have known,”
she whispered softly and the king wept anew. Angus discreetly
looked away from the pair, a shimmer in his own eyes.

The image was suddenly gone, leaving Baird
cold in the brisk spring wind atop the hill.

He was surprised to find his own cheeks damp
with tears and a lump lodged in his throat. He turned to gaze over
the awakening town below as he fought to control his emotional
response.

Much to his amazement, Baird’s father had
not blamed Bridei for failing.

In that time, in that place, his father had
loved him, without condition or reservation.

And Baird remembered.

He remembered not only the events, but he
felt again the power of that love lifting in his heart. He had
spent this lifetime striving for success, no success good enough
because his parents had found him unworthy of their interest even
before he let out his first cry.

Baird saw that he had driven himself hard
for nothing. His parents in this life had invested nothing in him
and deserved no dividend from what he had made of himself. Baird
had done it alone, but he realized that it didn’t have to be that
way. There were those who loved without restraint, without
judgment, without condemnation.

As Baird stood above the awakening town, he
felt how much difference love could make in his life.

Coming to Dunhelm had brought Baird a
tremendous gift. A week ago, he would have insisted that
reincarnation was nonsense. Now, he knew without doubt that he had
lived before. He had known Julian, he had experienced a father’s
love, he had gone to Dunhelm and died there.

Twice.

Baird shoved his hands into his pockets and
wandered back to the cobbled streets of Inverness, thinking
furiously the entire way. The musketeer had been him as well, he
knew, though that had been at some time between Bridei and now.
Baird had come back to Dunhelm again, and he had done so to find
Aurelia.

Gemdelovely Gemdelee.

Baird remembered Ursilla’s story in every
detail and fitted it to not only his own dreams, but Aurelia’s
story. He had lived not once, not twice, but many times, he was
certain. Baird tipped his head back and eyed the windy bluff
overhead, acknowledging all the mysteries he could not explain.

A trust dawned within Baird that things
could be true, even if he couldn’t explain them.

In his dreams, he changed. Baird came to
Dunhelm in different lives and different skins, each time bent on
the same goal that drove his soul. And Julian had been Thord all
those years ago. Same man, different vehicle.

But Aurelia was always Aurelia.

Quite simply because she was twelve hundred
years old. Her wild tale was true, it had to be. There was no other
explanation for the fact that she was always the same.

She was always waiting for him. Baird’s
heart clenched.

At least, he hoped she was still waiting for
him. He hadn’t been very quick off the mark this time, that was for
sure. But whether Luan’s prophecy was right or not, Baird was
suddenly very determined to prove himself to be the one for
Aurelia.

She was everything he had ever hoped to find
in a woman, everything he hadn’t even known he had been looking
for. He could talk to her, he could laugh with her, he had come
looking for her a thousand times before.