“Go.” The man’s voice was as clear and steady as it had been when Will was a child.
“There is something I must do,” he explained. “For the King. It’s . . . dangerous business.”
His father gave an uneven nod. “Send word. After.” He’d worry for his son, but as he’d done Will’s entire life, he’d delude himself about the true nature of the situation. Will knew he might not return, but his father would never entertain such a notion. “Then, Felicity,” the man added. He stumbled on her name, a jumble of sounds on his tongue.
Will caught the dart of his father’s eyes across the garden. And the unsettling truth of things came into focus.
“You speak well, Da. You’ve been practicing. With her, I’ll wager,” Will said, nodding to a woman watching and waiting patiently at the edge of the lawn. She’d been his father’s maid for as long as he could remember.
Will’s eyes narrowed. Was there no honor to be had? Who had strayed first, his father or his mother? He looked away from the woman, dispelling what was a distasteful thought. He’d rather not sully his mind contemplating the deceits of bored nobility. Even if they were his own parents.
He’d remember his father as the man he’d been to him. Thoughtful, loving. “This is good-bye then,” Will said.
“A parent’s lot.” The older man inhaled sharply. Grief etched the corners of his eyes. “To part.”
“I thank you, Father.”
“Be safe,” he said with a nod. “And go to her.”
Chapter 36
It was a weird experience, driving with Americans. Recognizing her accent, they peppered her with questions, which she answered in as few words as possible.
It was nice to feel recognized, to be immersed once more in such benign familiarity, and she realized she’d missed modern people, her people.
And yet, she also hadn’t. Not really. Her mind kept going to Will. Her place, with Will.
It was a short drive to the tourist shop. Tour buses skewed at odd angles along the edges of a sprawling, unevenly paved parking lot. Scotland’s Pride Woolen Mill was huge, and Felicity fought off a vague sense of alarm at the sight.
Tourists milled in front of the store, drinking coffee in white paper cups and pulling disposable treasures from their bags to show their friends.
Felicity stared in awed silence, and then sensed the quiet hum of expectation in the car. She was supposed to get out.
“Just there,” the driver urged her, pointing to a bright red phone booth on the far edge of the lot.
“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” the woman next to her asked.
Felicity managed a nod and scooted out the door. She made herself place one foot in front of the other.
Livvie. Livvie. Livvie.
Strangely, her legs were juiced with adrenaline, and by the time she reached the booth, they were weak and quivery. She grabbed the receiver, fingers poised over the dial. Her hands were shaking, and it took her a moment to remember what to do.
Operator.
She pressed Zero. Nothing. She jiggled the hook, pressed random buttons, a spurt of panic making her movements abrupt.
Weird, she thought distantly, as the foreign dial tone hummed to life.
The rest came to her by rote. Collect to Los Angeles, to her aunt’s house.
Voice mail.
Her heart sank. Something niggled at the back of her mind, and on a hunch, Felicity tried again. Collect to her apartment in San Francisco.
Livvie picked up on the second ring.
“Baby!” her aunt exclaimed. And then, in a conspiratorial tone, she asked, “Where did you get off to last night? You little minx, I see you did the Tarot. Did my candle work for you? Are you calling from Mister Right’s apartment?”
Last night?
It took a moment for Felicity to make sense of Livvie’s words. Had it only been last night?
“I . . . Yes, Liv.” Felicity rested her head against the glass wall of the phone booth. She’d hoped her aunt’s voice would be a balm, but she felt more overwhelmed than ever.
Last night. Did that mean Will was out there, trapped in some excruciatingly slow unfurling of time?
“I did meet someone.” Her voice hitched, and she braced herself. There would be no hiding her anguish from her aunt.
“Are you crying? Did he hurt you? The bastard. What did he do to you? Did you go out to a bar? You know I hate those types you meet in bars.”
“No.” She numbly repeated the events of the past months. “I went back in time. I was in the past. In old Scotland.”
“Are you okay?” Liv’s voice was instantly grave. “This guy didn’t give you anything, did he? I’ve heard about the drugs some men slip into girls’ drinks—”
“No, Livvie,” she said, tears pricking through her daze. “I was back in time. The man I met was wonderful.”
“Did you have . . . a dream?”
“No. I really was there.” She scrubbed at her face, willing Livvie to just believe her. Felicity didn’t have the energy to try and convince anybody of anything. “It was your candle. I made a wish on it. I asked the universe to send me a Viking.”
“You met a Viking? How far back did you travel?” Livia was silent for a moment. “I told you that’s a good candle.”
“No, he wasn’t a real Viking.” Felicity wiped her eyes through a breathy, grateful laugh. Leave it to Aunt Liv to believe her immediately. “I just called him that. It was the 1600s.”
Fresh anguish choked her. Will. Where are you, Will Rollo? “His name is . . . was Norse.”
Of all things to share, why was she telling her aunt that? Suddenly it was the little details that seemed the most profound, and the biggest ones the most inconsequential.
Livia was blessedly silent on the other end of the line. She would let Felicity tell her story in whatever order and however slowly she needed.
Breathing deeply, Felicity gathered herself, her emotions alternating between anguished and anesthetized. “I was there for ages. His name is Will.” She paused, fighting not to break down. “William Rollo. I love him. He’s the only man for me. The universe sent me to him. And Livvie, he loved me too. We’re . . .” She swallowed hard. Breathe. “We’re having a baby. I’m pregnant.”
Livia screamed. “No shit, honey! That is fantastic!”
“Do you believe me?” Felicity asked hesitantly.
“Of course I believe you. What a silly question. Now when can I meet Mister Viking Hottie?” The glee in Livia’s voice was torture.
“I left him in the past.”
“You did what?”
She closed her eyes. Just thinking about it brought a fresh stab of pain. “I met a witch. She helped me get back to this time.”
“You silly, silly girl.” Liv’s voice was low, and it sent goose bumps rippling across Felicity’s skin. “You make a wish, get sent to your true love. You get this gift, this huge, amazing, wonderful gift from the universe, and you throw it away?”
Livvie grew quiet. Only the sound of her breathing echoed over the phone. “You have to go back,” she stated with finality.
Felicity was taken aback. It was the harshest her aunt had ever spoken to her. The shock of it got her tears to stop.
“I can’t. I’ll never be able to go back.” She couldn’t process it all, and so repeated Will’s reasoning by rote. “It’s a dangerous time. I was kidnapped. People thought I was a witch. His brother tried to kill us. Staying wasn’t sensible.”
“Screw sensible.” Livia was outraged. “When have I ever taught you to be sensible?”
“I was in danger.”
“But not from your Viking.”
“Of course not, no,” Felicity murmured. She sighed, sad to her bones. “Not my Viking. He protects me.”
“Well, then he’ll protect you when you go back to him.”
“I can’t though. The witch said I’d never be able to go back.”
“Can’t . . . never . . . What did I teach you?” Livvie’s tone gentled. “Honey, you need to try.”
“There’s a maze,” Felicity said hesitantly. “I could try that again. But . . . it’s so dangerous there.”
“We can put people on the moon, surely you can find a little modern ingenuity to protect you.”
“You won’t miss me?”
“Of course I’ll miss you, you silly chit.” Livia paused on the word, as if waiting for some reaction. “Isn’t that how they speak back then?”
“Yeah, kind of.” Felicity laughed, a giddy, tension-relieving giggle. “What I can understand anyway.”
“Then we have to get you back. I’ll come help you. Where are you?”
“I’m in Scotland.”
“Good heavens, of course you are.” Her aunt gave a sharp sniffle, and Felicity thought how hard it would be for Liv to say good-bye to her only niece forever, and by telephone, of all things. “Then you’ll just need to hang up this phone, and go back to that maze, and figure out a way to get back to him.”
“I love you, Liv.” She shut her eyes, wishing she could give her aunt just one more hug. But Felicity knew, if she could choose only one person to have near for the rest of her life, it was Will whom she’d hold close. “Thank you.”
“For what, dear? Now,” Livvie added quickly, “just hang up the phone and figure out a way to go be with your Viking. And, Felicity?”
“Yes?”
“I love you too, dear.”
Felicity was no longer trembling when she hung up the phone. The numbness had cleared, and she forced herself to hold onto hope, willing her resolve to push the sadness away.
She knew they were meant to be together. She’d find a way. Figure out how to protect herself and them if it meant tromping into that silly tourist shop and getting her hands on the best reproduction claymore Scotland’s Pride Woolen Mill had to offer.
