“I was transported. I…I…was brought to the past. To the night she killed you.”
Oliver sat still—but if he had blood rushing through his veins, his body would have shaken. “I don’t understand. You were dreaming.”
“At first, I told myself that, but it was real, Oliver. I went back, but I was a vapor, as you are.”
“You went back?”
She nodded. “I saw what she did. I saw you fall and I couldn’t stop it.” She swiped her eyes and looked away.
He could hear her crying. He moved closer to where she sat on the bed. He moved close enough to hear her breathing with sniffles in between. He lifted his hand to her hair, but he felt nothing. He traced his fingertips over the creamy softness of her cheeks, but they were creamy soft only in his mind. He couldn’t feel her, comfort her with a caress.
“Seeing someone die is a harrowing thing,” he said softly. “I’m sorry you saw my death—” He paused when she let out alittle sob at his words. “There was nothing you could do because, though it likely felt very real, it had to be a dream. That’s why you were a vapor.”
“I looked into your eyes, Oliver,” she wept, hiding her face in her hands, as if she had invaded a moment of his life when only fear existed. “I hate her for doing that to you.”
“It’s in the past, Magnolia.” Long forgotten by everyone but him. He existed with the torment of remembering. But not today.
He smiled at her like some poor, captivated sod. Was he mad to let another woman stir his heart? And a Montgomery at that!
“Oliver?” her voice rang in his ears with a longing sigh. “I wish I could touch you.”
Chapter Seven
Maggie sat inthe library staring at the glass case and the gauntlet inside. She knew she hadn’t dreamed that she saw him die. It had been real. Would touching the gauntlet bring her back to those terrible moments? She didn’t want Oliver to touch it and be brought back to witness his death. He didn’t want to witness it either.
“I fear I’ll walk these battlements forever if I do,” he’d told her while the sun began its ascent over the horizon.
But she knew this was all happening for a reason. The gauntlet had a purpose in his life, and she was a part of it. She had to find out what it was. She didn’t want to admit it, but she was falling for a ghost. It was too tragic. Maybe she was here to find a way to save him. Well, she couldn’t do it from this side.
She knew she didn’t have long before he arrived. Whatever she was here to do, she wanted to see it done. She reached over, opened the glass door, and swept her fingers over the warm metal.
She heard him shout her name as he entered the library, and then the sound faded as she disappeared and other sounds replaced it. Sounds that she shouldn’t be hearing. Like chickens squawking and the clang of a hammer hitting metal, women shouting at their children who ran around sheets hanging in the sun. This wasn’t the library. Her heart thrashed within her. What year was it? She looked around. She stood in the middle ofa narrow, cobblestone street. The air felt damp and uninviting. On either side of her vendors sold wares. Behind them were small thatched-roof cottages where the townspeople lived. There was horse manure everywhere, which accounted for the smell. A group of children were running in her direction. When one of them smashed into her and then looked up wide-eyed and lips parted, she looked down to smile at him but noticed her blue-velvet-laced skirts. What? She felt herself and the tight corset binding her. She was solid! She was solid, and so were the children. Where did her clothes come from? What did it mean? That was the second shock, the first being that she had gone back to the past again.
“Mum! The lady just came here!”
Maggie realized what the boy meant. She hadn’t been standing there and then she was. Thankfully, no one but the child was aware of it.
“Okay Junior, move along now.” Maggie stepped around him and straight into his mother. She wanted to grind her teeth, but smiled instead. “I was turning the corner and the next thing I knew your child was colliding into me.”
The mother looked repentant and then called to her son. “Roger, what did I tell you about running with your friends? Get your arse here for a beating right this minute before you make me lose my temper.”
Maggie shivered a little, listening. “A beating is unnecessary. I’ll just be going.”
“Make way for the Earl of Harwich!” a man’s voice shouted out, stopping Maggie’s heart.
The Earl of Harwich? Oliver? Had she come to a day that he was alive? Oh, she was going to faint. No, she wouldn’t faint. She turned to look down the street at an entourage of men approaching. Was he there? She didn’t think her heart could take it much longer. And then she spotted him upon a blackstallion…striking among the other men with him. He sat tall in the saddle in leather and chainmail, his raven locks eclipsing his violet gaze as it spread over the people scurrying out of his way.
Oliver. Alive. Solid, like her.
His entourage moved closer and Maggie took a step toward him. Was this real? How could it be? She felt as if she were moving in a dream, closer and closer. She almost reached him until a muscular arm came up before her, almost hitting her in the chest to stop her.
“Stand back,” the arm’s owner growled at her. “Make way for the earl.”
She looked up to see Oliver about to pass her on his horse a few feet away. “Ol—Lord Harwich!”
He turned his head and looked around for the one who called him.
The brute who’d barricaded her way using his arm gave her a shove. She landed on her knees before Oliver’s horse. The earl said nothing and when she looked up and met his gaze, it was only her breath that faltered. He appeared completely unaffected as he rode his mount around her.
