“I hear that’s common after a head injury,” she murmured. “When you were brought in, you had a picture in your pocket, a picture that looked a lot like me. Where did you get it?”
“I drew it.”
“You drew it,” she echoed. “What’s your name?”
“Theodore Beckett.” She was shaking her head before he had even finished speaking.
“No, it’s not possible.”
“Olivia?”
“No.” She stood abruptly. “Not possible.”
“Olivia, please.” He reached out and grasped her hand as she turned to leave. “I know this is hard for you to accept. It was for me too at first, but I think I was brought here because of you.”
“I don’t understand.” Olivia’s brow creased in confusion.
“My name is Theodore Beckett. I was born in Salem Village of the Massachusetts Bay Colony in the year of our Lord 1664. The last thing I remember was being trapped in a burning barn. The roof was collapsing.” He took a deep breath as he cast his mind back. “I was dying and then I was standing in the darkness. There was a man. He saved me and said I had to find you, that you needed me.”
“No,” Olivia denied. Panic gripped her as she yanked her arm out of his grasp. “NO!”
“Olivia, please. Just listen.” He threw the blankets off, he must have knocked a sensor loose because an alarm on the monitor next to his bed started to beep loudly. Ignoring the shrill noise, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and let his bare feet touch the cold floor. “Please, just wait.”
He reached for her imploringly, but Olivia shook her head and backed toward the door. Her mind refusing to process his crazy story.
Two nurses rushed into the room and Olivia was vaguely aware of them trying to help him back into bed, but she didn’t stop. She just ran while his voice rang in her ears.
12
It had been almost a week since that night and things had been blessedly quiet. Brody Walker had still not been found, but the Mercy Police Department seemed content to leave Olivia in peace, for now at least. She’d managed to eat properly and get some sleep, and she’d also got some work done.
The full moon had passed two days ago, and so she’d been able to perform a ritual for drawing down the moon. It was a simple spell, but one that cleansed her spirit and filled her with the energy and power of the goddess. Since then, she’d felt good, well rested, and centered once more.
There was just one problem.
Theodore Beckett.
Her thoughts once again drifted back to the man at the hospital and she sighed. Why did all the good-looking ones have to be so complicated? And he was good-looking, with that dark hair and those brooding eyes framed by long, sooty lashes. Damn it, there she went again. Why couldn’t she keep her mind off him for more than ten minutes at a time?
He had to be delusional—people didn’t just go around claiming to be three hundred and fifty something years old And the idea of time travel was ludicrous. There could be no other explanation than that the guy was nuts.
So why, did she feel so unsettled? Why couldn’t she stop thinking about him, and what was the strange feeling deep in the pit of her stomach that she had trouble naming?
She shook her head. There was no point in thinking about him. There wasn’t anything she could do. Okay, so maybe she’d called Louisa a couple of times to check how he was recovering, and according to her oldest friend, he was fine now. Sort of. Physically, he’d recovered from his injuries, but they couldn’t substantiate his real identity. He was not forthcoming with any other information that would help in finding any friends or relatives. One of the senior doctors had diagnosed him as suffering with a form of amnesia, and they’d summarily transferred him to the Riverside Psychiatric Facility on the outskirts of town to recover.
Maybe she should go and visit him.
“To do what?” she wondered aloud. “Take him a muffin basket and spend a couple of hours discussing the finer points of seventeenth century history?”
“You know, you might consider that he’s telling you the truth.”
The unexpected voice startled her out of her silent reverie so violently that she spilled her coffee, and only narrowly avoided burning her hand.
Her gaze landed on a handsome stranger leaning comfortably on the center island in her kitchen. He was tall with jet black hair that fell almost to his collar and startling blue eyes.
“Who the hell are you and how did you get in my house?” she demanded.
“I’m the guy who pulled Theo through time,” he replied with a cocky grin.
