“He said that you were Mikah Bauer’s young man.”
That young man choked on his wine and set the glass down with a laugh, catching a drop of wine from his chin with the back of his hand. “Is that what he said?”
“Aye,” Jace said seriously as the man’s eyes danced. “Are ye?”
“Kris.”
The men turned to see Mikah at the bedroom door. She kept her eyes on Kris, refusing to look at Jace even while his eyes devoured her. He hadn’t seen Hero so closely in the flesh in one hundred and fifty years. She’d shed her hat and coat, her blond hair creating a wavy halo as it hung loose about her shoulders. He could see every curve of the slim body he knew so well pressing against the clingy black dress she wore. She looked the same as he remembered, yet different, though he couldn’t put his finger on the reason why. Younger than Hero, fitter, but that wasn’t it. Either way, the sight of her set his blood boiling just as it always had, and already his fingers were itching to touch her. She didn’t appear nearly as eager to do the same.
“Yes, my love,” Waters said with laughter in his voice, but she must have been familiar with his humor because she only rolled her eyes. That ease between them tore at Jace’s heart. This is what he’d been afraid of. How could he compete against that? Kris Waters’s unwavering good humor and acceptance of him under the circumstances spoke clearly of his confidence in the stability of their relationship, and sent Jace’s optimism into a decline.
“Why don’t you go?”
To Jace’s surprise, she was still speaking to Waters. In that moment, he expected her to ask the same question of him and to explain to him that she was happy as she was.
Waters didn’t seem as surprised, but went immediately to her side. “Mikes…”
“Go back to the party,” she insisted. “There’s plenty of time still and I’m sure everyone’s waiting for you.”
“I don’t want to leave you here like this.”
“I’ll be fine.” She looked up then, her brilliant eyes meeting Jace’s across the room. “Won’t I be fine?”
“I would never harm her,” he assured Waters gravely.
Though there was still doubt in his eyes, Waters relented to her additional prodding. After a warning look to Jace, he said his goodbyes, bending to whisper in her ear before kissing her cheek.
“I love you, too.”
Her whispered words were barely audible, but they tore at Jace’s heart. This had all been a mistake. The very last thing he wanted to do was hurt her. To cause her pain. If she were truly happy…
He looked around the loft again, recalling Waters’s own insinuations. What if Mikah wasn’t truly happy? What if, like him, this man was prepared to sacrifice the affection he clearly held for her for what he thought might benefit her? Jace had to know. It was what had brought him here against his better judgment, the need to assure himself of her happiness and well-being.
Watching him warily, Mikah bent and unzipped her tall black boots before tugging them off. Jace looked down at her small feet, watching as she curled her toes inside her stockings. She lingered near the bedroom door, her hands clasped nervously in front of her. His eyes traveled familiarly up her length until he reached her face once more. Again he wondered at the difference in her that wasn’t merely the result of modern clothing. Her cheeks were still pink from the cold but her wide eyes dominated her face, and he realized that that she was wearing makeup. Hero had been a natural beauty, fresh of face, but with the cosmetics, she was stunning. Her eyes, lips, and cheeks were emphasized and enhanced, giving her a more glamorous appearance.
But with that allure came a distance, a separation that made it difficult for him to see his Hero beneath, yet Jace knew that he wouldn’t be able to leave until he knew for certain.
“You know me.”
“Yes.” The word escaped her lips easily, but she shook her head in denial of the word. “No. No, I don’t. Who are you?”
“My name is Jason MacAuliffe. Jace, and aye, you do know me.”
“No,” she insisted, wringing her hands together. Her eyes slid over him, taking in every detail. “You’re a stranger to me.”
“We both know you and I have never been strangers.”
Chapter Forty-Six
That thick Scottish brogue Mikah remembered so well slid seductively down her spine, sending goose bumps prickling across her flesh. God, it was him. As much as she wanted to deny it, there was no coincidence imaginable that could set a stage such as this one.
She studied him now, so much closer than he’d been when she first saw him on the ramparts. When she heard—no, felt—her name, Hero’s name, being whispered. Nothing could have prepared her to see him there. A ghost, an echo. Closer now than he’d been in the hall, when she’d become so alarmingly aware of him in the space of a single breath.
She’d thought him to be identical to Ian Conagham, but he wasn’t exactly. Her Ian had been only thirty, while this man was older by more than a couple years. There was a tension in his jaw, a seriousness in his eyes that was not Ian’s. The same but different.
“On the ramparts. Why did you run?”
“I thought…”
