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B eep. Beep. Beep.

Her left shoulder blade burned. She tried to move, but the pain was too intense. She let out a moan.

“Emma. Emma, can you hear me?”

“Aidan?” she tried to say, but her throat was too dry. A straw was placed at her lips, and she greedily drank the cool, crisp water. She couldn’t remember anything tasting so good.

“Emma, you’re in the hospital. Just rest. There will be plenty of time later for talking,” Reilly’s voice said from somewhere near her.

Another voice—a woman’s. Irish accent, English language. “I’ll give her some more pain medication. She’s due for her next dose, anyway.”

“Where’s Aidan?” she tried again, but her tongue felt thick and foreign. Why couldn’t she open her eyes?

“You’re safe here. Sleep, Emmaline.”

She couldn’t do anything but comply with Reilly’s softly spoken command.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Emma’s eyes felt as though they were made of sandpaper. She blinked, working through the grit, until she could focus on something.

A fluorescent light, switched off, on a drop ceiling.

Her fuzzy brain couldn’t grasp that, so she carefully turned her head to the left and found the source of the incessant beeping. A blue machine with green digital numbers stared at her. Every few beeps, a piece of paper dropped from it, landing in a wire basket.

She moved her eyes from the machine, and realized she was in a bed. The white blanket was tucked around her tightly, and she noticed the safety bar alongside her leg.

Colin sat nearby in a black plastic chair, with his elbows resting on his knees. His folded hands propped his head.

She swallowed, and before she could even attempt speech, he placed a straw against her lips. She drank, savoring the water, and when she finished she gave him a smile of gratitude.

“Aidan?”

Her voice was scratchy from disuse, her throat raw.

Colin placed the pink plastic cup on the side table. “How are you feeling?”

She tried to sit up, but her back screamed in protest. She gasped, and Colin helped her to readjust.

“Emma, don’t try to move. You were shot, and they had to do some serious digging to get all of the bullet pieces out of your shoulder.”

“Shot?”

“Yes. Relax. Reilly’s talking to the nurse now; he’ll be back in a moment. You had us worried for a while there.”

“Aidan?” Emma asked again.

Colin’s eyes looked so deep, as though they held secrets a normal human couldn’t possibly understand. And so sad, as though his heart were breaking right alongside hers .

“You made it home, Emma…but Aidan didn’t.”

Her world stopped. Tears spilled down her cheeks, and she tried to form words, but nothing came out. Her monitor started beeping rapidly, and she let out a sob, ignoring the pain ripping through her at the movement.

She had one coherent thought slamming through her brain: She didn’t care if he didn’t love her. She didn’t want to live, if it wasn’t with Aidan.

She gratefully slid back into oblivion.

Six weeks later, Emma sat in a very stuffy office. The lettering on the door read FINN O’ROURKE, ESQ., ATTY AT LAW.

She still didn’t know why she’d been asked to come.

She didn’t care, either.

She knew Colin was worried about her. Reilly, too. According to the hospital, about a month ago she was released into the custody of her cousins, who were her next of kin. She had a passport that said she was Emmaline Perkins MacWilliam. A marriage certificate verified that, too.

Aidan, damn him to hell, certainly followed through on his promise of protection. She had the modern-day equivalent of full clan protection on this side of the time continuum.

Her heart hurt too much when she thought about anything having to do with a certain green-eyed warrior, so she focused on where she was at present.

Diplomas lined the wall. A mahogany desk stood about two arm lengths away.

A black leather chair, probably placed on the tallest setting so the lawyer would look larger and more commanding, sat behind it.

The door opened, and a stocky man entered. He shook her limp hand, apologized for his tardiness, and set a folder on the desk .

“Mrs. MacWilliam, I’m very sorry about your loss. As you may or may not be aware, Mr. MacWilliam set up some provisions for you, in the case of his death.”

Death.

Aidan had been dead for hundreds of years. The thought, as it always did, pushed her mind into the safe, blank space where no feeling was allowed.

Mr. O’Rourke forewent the leather chair and perched on the edge of the desk. He picked up the folder, and Emma noticed it was more of a binder.

A white binder.

Tears threatened, but she held them at bay.

No feelings.

The man was still talking, and she tried to pay attention, more to stop the emotion than anything else.

Emotion was very, very bad.

“He left you everything he had,” Mr. O’Rourke said.

“That is standard procedure for most married couples, and you can rest assured that he had this all fully legalized and witnessed. There won’t be any problems as far as your joint account, and Mr. MacWilliam’s other accounts overseas are in your name also.

He didn’t have life insurance, but he did leave you this.

” Mr. O’Rourke pulled a sealed envelope from the binder and handed it to her.

She glanced at the wax seal, and her world stuttered.

A silver M, ivy twisted about it, with a sword sliced through it. His letter. His symbol.

The tears came fast and furious, and with a murmured “I’m so sorry for your loss,” Mr. O’Rourke placed a box of tissues on his desk and quietly left, allowing her privacy.

After a few moments, Emma wiped the tears, and studied the envelope. She even sniffed it, hoping to catch his scent, but all she smelled was the paper.

The stab of disappointment cut through her like a knife.

Carefully, so as to not disturb the wax, she used a letter opener on the desk to slit the envelope.

She pulled out a piece of parchment, and she stifled another sob that rose to the surface.

She smoothed the paper onto the desk. The parchment was something he’d touched—it was as close as she would ever get to him again.

She began to read.

Dear Emmaline,

Right now, you’re asleep on my plane. I’m watching you as we fly together over the Atlantic, and you look so peaceful.

I need to keep you safe. Family is important, Emma.

Don’t shut out the one you’ve been given; Colin and his brother, James, will always be there for you if I am not.

O’Malley, too, although I’d caution against staying near his cottage (too many strange visitors).

On second thought, O’Malley’s an arse. Look to Colin.

If you’re reading this, it means that I didn’t make it back to you.

You’re either crying or laughing while reading this, and I find myself curious to know which—did I succeed in convincing you that we’re meant to be?

Or did I screw it up? If it’s the latter, let me assure you that, when we next meet, be it heaven, hell, or in between, that means I’ve an eternity to convince you.

Though you would never go to hell; you’re too good for such a place.

If it’s the former, please don’t grieve for me.

Our souls are forever intertwined, my love, and you must continue on in this life, realizing that we will be together again someday.

I love you, Emmaline Perkins. You are my soul mate, and I recognized that immediately, although I fought it.

I think you did as well, but you were understandably scared.

I hope I was able to ease your fears. I will always be there to protect you—listen to your heart. I’ll forever speak to you through it.

I believe that even before I met you, I knew we were fated.

My job, from this moment on, is to protect you, love you, and provide you with everything you could ever need.

Forgive me my errors in judgement, as I’m sure they’ll be plenty.

This is new to me; these feelings that overtake me are strong, stronger than any I’ve experienced before.

Is it love? I’m not sure. I think it could grow into love, if we merely open ourselves to it.

And knowing myself, I’ll fight it. I’m sorry if I fought too hard.

Again—if I’ve somehow mucked this up, I’ll spend eternity fixing it, when we’re together again.

I bequeath you everything. All my money, properties, and restaurants. And, most importantly, my family. Take care of them, Emma. James needs to visit more. Colin needs to be bossed a bit, and O’Malley…well, hit him over the head a few times for me. He’ll understand.

I think I love you more than you could ever know. Be at peace, love, and take solace in the fact that I am yours, eternally.

Aidan

Emma carefully refolded the letter, smoothing the edges as she went, and placed it back in its envelope. Mr. O’Rourke poked his head in the door.

“Can I get you anything, Mrs. MacWilliam?”

She nodded and took a shaky breath. “My family, please.”

“I’ll bring them in,” he said. A moment later, Reilly and Colin entered, and she felt her chin quiver.

Reilly opened his arms, and she flew into them. He held her, avoiding her recovering shoulder, and let her cry for as long as she wanted.

And he didn’t bat an eye when she hit a few times, too.

Colin stared out the window of the small cottage, watching Emma as she sat motionless on the cliff. The wind whipped her hair around her, but she was as still as stone as she stared across the sea.

“A storm’s coming,” Reilly noted, glancing at the dark clouds rolling toward them. “I hope this shack can hold up.”

“Aidan custom-built this house,” Colin said. “I’m sure it will withstand a storm. He did like to be prepared for anything. ”

“That he did,” Reilly agreed. He watched Emma for a moment. “Except, perhaps, this.”

“Yes,” Colin agreed quietly, “except this.”

Emma’s grief was almost palpable. She ate, but only enough to survive, and only at the prodding of Colin or Reilly.

She functioned—she did some work for Colin, agreeing that she needed to occupy her mind, but every assignment he gave her she completed in record time.

When finished, she would spend the rest of her day outside, staring at the sea, lost.

“If only there was some way to bring him back,” Colin said for the umpteenth time. “What good is our power if we can’t use it to heal people?”

Reilly placed a hand on his shoulder. “Col, have I taught you nothing over the years? It can’t be used for personal gain. O’Rourkes are only supposed to travel when the line is in danger.”

“I know,” Colin replied. “But look at her. She’s devastated. And I can only imagine what Aidan’s going through; he has no idea what happened to her.” He paused. “Why is it that you never told Aidan that he could just hop the open time gate near your house?”

Reilly didn’t take his eyes off Emma’s profile. “It isn’t mine to close or open.”

“Can you travel to the future?” Colin asked. “Tell me, Reilly. Because I need to know if this works out.”

“I can’t go to the future, Colin. I’m just a man.”

“I can’t understand you.”

“Nor can I, so I suggest not trying.”

Colin dragged a hand through his hair, his attention back on Emma. “I don’t know how to help her. Nothing we’ve done has worked. Is she doomed to live this way until she dies? Is that what the Fates want for her?”

“I don’t pretend to know what they want,” Reilly said, bitterness in his tone. “They change their minds so often, I can’t keep up.”

“It’s always just a matter of time until they change them again.”

“Everything is a matter of time with us,” Reilly replied wryly.

“Hopefully what I have next will help distract her.” Colin sighed and leaned heavily against the wall.

“Another Celtic Connections assignment?”

Colin nodded. “We’re ready to start in the UK and Ireland. But I need some positive press from the natives, so to speak.”

“You’re turning to the paparazzi?”

“I’ll let Emma determine that. But we need some locals on our side.”

“What happens if they’re not on your side?”

“Then I’ll do whatever it takes to lead them to the light,” Colin quipped with a smile. It faded as he looked back at Emma. “I wish I could do more. She is a sweet soul. And Aidan deserves better than to live a life of solitude.”

“Ever the matchmaker,” Reilly murmured.

Colin chuckled humorlessly. “I truly thought they were perfect for each other. They are perfect for each other. They’re soul mates.”

Reilly paused. “Aye, they are, aren’t they?”

Colin frowned. “I’m going to see if I can get her to come in. The wind is really picking up out there.” He headed out the front door.

Reilly, however, left through a time gate.