They made their way to the farthest corner where an arched doorway led them into the chamber containing Emrys’s most prized and private tools of the old ways. The mysterious Mirrors of Time leaned against the far wall, staring back at them like the great dark eyes of some primitive beast. The stones supporting the ancient mirrors were blackened as though charred by blasts of extreme heat. As tall as Caelan, each of the three shimmeringwindows into the unknown mists was as wide as his arms could span. Their wooden frames, dark with age, held strange symbols, intricately carved knots, and whorls, their meaning only known to those deemed worthy of their powers.
But unlike a polished shield that reflected whatever passed in front of it, the surfaces of these mirrors were undulating pools of blackest obsidian not reflecting a single light, shadow, or shape that might stand before them.
Caelan planted his feet in a defensive stance and tightened his fists, eyeing the mirrors with a leeriness that made his gut clench. “What must ye do to make them show ye what ye seek?” he asked in a hushed tone.
“Patience, my laird.” Emrys fetched his staff from the corner. His thin, decrepit form seemed to grow and strengthen as he returned to his place in front of the mirrors. Whenever the old one held his staff, it was as though the years fell away from him as the elemental energy pulsed through his veins. He touched the crystal of his staff to the mirror farthest to the right. “Reveal the one of the amethyst eyes, she who our chieftain needs. Let us hear her, show us her time and place, reveal the one we seek.”
The mirror’s surface came alive with a burst of energy. The ebony plate changed into a roiling surface of stormy clouds. Lightning flashed in the peaks and valleys of the shapes as blurred images spun and danced, gaining momentum on the surface of the looking glass. After a bit, the gray shapeless forms cleared, revealing a small white house at the edge of a thick forest of pines. A thin stream of smoke rose from the crooked chimney, hugging the side of the tiny dwelling.
Heart pounding at the strangeness of it all, unable to breathe or form words, Caelan leaned closer, mesmerized by the vision.
The door to the house opened, and there she was. Dressed in a pair of the snuggest blue trews Caelan had ever seen and a wee white léine that clung to her shapely curves, the maiden of hisdreams skipped down the steps of the house. Pulling her raven curls back from her face, she threaded her shining locks through the back of a strange hat that fit close to her skull as she pulled it on her head. Its brim was shaped like the bill of a duck and had tattered symbols scrawled across the front of it. The thing didn’t even cover her ears.
Caelan frowned. What good would such a hat be when the winter winds blew? He blinked away the thought and stepped closer still, watching the lass of his dreams. She scrubbed her arms against the chill of the cool morning as she hurried to the woodpile stacked against the side of the house. After selecting a few good-sized chunks, she strode back to the door while glancing around the frosty clearing.
“Sam! Maizy! Time for breakfast!” Her musical voice carried across the vision as her violet-eyed gaze scanned an area Caelan couldn’t see. At the sound of her call, a wee black and brown dog no bigger than a good-sized rat and a large, lumbering golden one emerged from the trees close to a tall, worn structure that must be her stable. They bounced to her side, tussling for her attention as they scampered up the steps and disappeared into the house with her.
As the scene faded, the surface of the mirror returned to a liquid pool of black. Then the glass shimmered with a smoky, silvery sheen, as though the mirror sought more information. Its surface stilled and returned to ebony, then spelled out in stark white script: Kentucky 2007.
“What isKentucky 2007?” Caelan took a step back and turned to Emrys while scrubbing his knuckles up and down his breastbone to rid himself of the chilling eeriness of the room.
Emrys returned his staff to its place in the corner. “From what I have gathered from my path working, Kentucky is a place across the seas—or will be.” Turning a pained glare on Caelan, hefolded his hands in front of his middle. “And 2007 is the year in which your soul mate lives.”
Caelan rubbed the back of his neck and rolled his shoulders, unable to shake the unnerving tingle plaguing his flesh. “2007? How can I dream of a maiden from across the seas in the year 2007 when this is Scotland, and the year is 1379?” He raked his hands through his hair, knotted his fingers in the strands, and yanked in irritation as he closed his eyes in disbelief. Pain, he understood. Being matched with a woman of the future? By Amergin’s beard, what strange cruelty was this?
“The MacKays have always sought their soulmates. They canna settle for joining with anyone but their one true match for all time.” Emrys crossed the room and gently opened a heavy book resting on one end of his worktable. He touched the timeworn pages with reverence. “Why do ye think your line nearly disappeared several times? If not for the benevolent hand of fate to bring the soulmates together, the MacKay line would have died out long ago. The stubborn males refuse to plant their seed with anyone other than the one woman who appears to them in their dreams.” Emrys shook his head and pursed his wrinkled mouth. “Course, it didn’t help when an occasional laird took a woman for her dowry rather than love, and she always died within seven moons of the marriage.” He twitched a shrug. “That part of the curse convinced the others to avoid that path.”
“And my heartmate lies in the future. Out of my reach forever,” Caelan said. “Am I to live out my life alone, then? No wife? No heirs?” He wished he had never looked into those damn mirrors. At least if he had remained ignorant of the truth, he could have nurtured a bit of hope to keep him warm the rest of his days. “Do the fates hope to torment me into taking a woman of this century just so I can watch her die? I canna even look at another woman without thinking of those purple eyes that pierce my heart and soul!”
With a slow shake of his head, Emrys turned from the table. He held an ancient book open in his arms, staring down at it, and running a finger back and forth across the script on the pages. Without looking up, he advised, “Dinna speak disrespectfully of the Fates, my laird. In what we are about to do, ye will need more help from them than ye ever have before.” He licked his thumb and turned a page, then ran his crooked finger along the faded lines again.
Caelan snorted and shook his head, then jabbed a finger at the wicked mirrors but could not speak through the turmoil pounding through him. He couldn’t force the memory of her out of his mind and those clothes—bloody hell! That fine round arse of hers in those strange trews. His cock surged to a painful hardness at the memory. The way her breasts perked round and full beneath the tight white cloth of her wee tunic. He wiped the sweat from his upper lip with a groan.
“How are the Fates to help me?” he finally growled, cradling his pounding head and pressing the heels of his hands hard against his temples.
“Well…” Emrys tapped another page with a yellowed fingernail. “When traveling to the future, ye usually need all the help ye can get.”
CHAPTER 2
Rural Kentucky
Spring 2007
Rachel Hawkins laughedas she lifted the lid to the dog food bin, then danced around both bouncing dogs to fill their bowls. “Take it easy, you two. There’s enough for everybody. If you eat all this, I’ll give you more.” She loved Sam and Maizy so much. Their happily wagging butts made her smile as they dove into the food as if they hadn’t eaten for a month of Sundays.
After adding a bit more food to their bowls, she crossed the small area for a refill of coffee, then settled at her usual morning spot in front of the kitchen sink. She leaned against it and stared out the window while sipping her coffee, loving how the tall frosty grass covering the field sparkled in the sunlight like a child’s art project decorated with glitter. “I’m going to enjoy these next couple of weeks off even if I have to disconnect the wall phone, stop the mail, and toss my cell phone into the pond. Then the only way the bill collectors can find me is if they fly over the house and drop notices.”
Neither dog lifted their head nor stopped eating to acknowledge her. Their tails continued wagging to mark time with their rhythmic crunching.
She turned and leaned back against the sink, cradling the steaming cup between her hands. The past several months had been so hard, but, hopefully, things would level out now and start looking up. A determined sigh escaped her as she made up her mind. She would get through this. Always did. Always would. At least she was finally rid of her lying ex-husband, legally and physically. How she had missed all the warning signs still made her wonder if she had just ignored them to keep the peace. Of course, it was pretty hard to ignore when she walked in on him and his extremely loud girlfriend christening the expensive new sheets she’d splurged for and put on the bed that morning.
A disgruntled snort escaped her. She still couldn’t decide which had made her angrier—the fact that her husband was screwing around on her or that he and his mistress had gotten their nastiness all over her precious sheets. She shuddered at the thought.
After another sip of coffee, she sagged down into the chair at the wobbly kitchen table. She never should’ve married David. Love really hadn't been a factor. He'd been more of an escape from college and the career that her emotionally abusive parents battered her over the head with for as far back as she could remember.
When she dropped out of university for marriage, they disowned her and told her they wouldn’t speak to her or acknowledge her existence until she came to her senses and stopped embarrassing them with her inconsiderate behavior. As far as they were concerned, she was dead to them. Fine by her. She’d often wondered why they never put her up for adoption or abandoned her in an alley. It would have been more humane than the way they’d raised her.
A couple of years into what they always called herridiculously stupidmarriage, a car accident permanently silenced their cruel criticism and emotional abuse that had made up her childhood.
