“Trust me, love.You need to see this.”
Lainie hesitated but eventually nodded.She did trust Christien.As bizarre as this was, one thing remained steady—her trust and her love for this man.
They dressed silently.A pall hung between them, a sadness that would never be easily erased.She’d lived with this other Madelaine for weeks, experienced her terror, her joy, watched her fall in love with her dark knight.To witness her death, with no warning, horrified her and left her empty and sad.
Once they were dressed, Christien took her hand and led her out of the house, through the countryside and over rolling hills covered with purple lavender.The air was so fresh and even though her grief pressed down on her, she still felt as if she’d come home.This is where I was meant to be.
She didn’t know how long they walked—ten minutes?twenty?—when they entered a line of trees.Lainie hesitated, the terror of her last memory rearing its ugly head.Christien looked back at her, his heart in his eyes.Her trust in him outweighed the fear and urged her forward.
After a few minutes the trees thinned out, giving way to a small clearing shrouded in the shadows of the waning night.In the middle of the clearing was a cemetery surrounded by a black wrought-iron fence.
The gravestones were old, some so worn the lettering was almost nonexistent.Many were centuries old, but one in particular looked brand-new.
Christien stopped in front of it and bowed his head, his shoulders curving as if the responsibilities of the world rested on them.Lainie read the epitaph.
Madelaine, Countess of Flandres
1288-1307
There is nothing love cannot face;
there is no limit to its faith,
its hope, and its endurance.
“I brought her body here after I purchased her family home.”
Lainie’s gaze flew to Christien.She pictured the imposing house high on a hill with the surrounding countryside spread before it.
With turrets, crenellations and arrow slits, it was more a castle than house.Built as a weapon of war, a stronghold and a place to retreat to for safety.Now she understood why it looked so familiar, why she was able to walk through it without losing her way and why she felt safe within its walls.
She hadn’t dreamed of it, but she knew as deeply as she knew she loved Christien that this was where she grew up.There had been additions, renovations and improvements over the years but the heart of the castle remained the same.
“Why?”She wasn’t sure which question swirling through her brain she was asking.Why did he own Madelaine’s home?Why was her grave here?
He looked at her through the shadows of the dawn, sadness burning in his eyes.“She needed to be here, where she was happiest.”
“She was happiest with Christien.”Lainie touched the cold stone, damp from the dew.“I can’t imagine his sorrow when he returned to find her…gone.”
“He was devastated.Beyond grief.I…Hereturned to the castle too late to save you.”He pressed his fingers into his eyes.
Stunned, caught in his grief and rage, she touched his arm, not knowing what else to do.His muscles were tense, rock hard.
He drew in a deep breath.“They told me you had fallen off your horse and broke your neck but I doubted the story.However events were unfolding swiftly.King Philip was experiencing heavy financial losses and wanted to acquire the Templar’s wealth by accusing us of heresy and witchcraft.Our leader, deMolay, had already been arrested.My fellow brothers were being rounded up, questioned, tortured, accused of heinous crimes.I was ordered back to Paris to meet with deMolay.There had been no time to inquire further into your death.I thought when I returned I would look into it.But it was not to be.In Paris I was given a…task.I had to travel to Scotland right away.I had no choice.”His voice broke and he cleared his throat, still staring at the stars.
Scotland.That explained the Celtic cross tattooed on his chest.A tattoo he said he received in Scotland a long time ago.Puzzle pieces were starting to fall into place, but her mind shied from the picture forming.Certainly what she was thinking was impossible.And yet hadn’t she at one time thought reincarnation was impossible?
“I was operating on sheer force of will and the desperate need to protect the Templar treasure.”He looked at her.“The same treasure Lucien was promised if he took it from me.”
Lainie took a step back as if distance could separate her from what she was hearing.She’d thought Lucien insane but she knew Christien not to be.Yet why was he telling almost the same story?Why did he too believe in this treasure?
“It took eighteen months to get to Scotland,” he said.“I traveled at night.The tide of hatred toward the Templars was growing, spreading across countries and continents.I had a mission and it was all I concentrated on.Finish my mission and I could die for there was no thought of living without you.”
Lainie swallowed past the lump in her throat, aching for her dark knight and his pain.
“I almost failed several times.I was weak with fever, dying with every breath I took.But it was not enough.”He pounded his fist against the headstone.“’Tis never enough.I was brought back from the brink of death and told I must protect the treasure for always.”
“What do you mean brought back from death?”she whispered.
