Page 128

C onn stood in the dining hall with Sarah and her mother, along with Thomas and his wife and about twelve others who were dressed too well to be servants.

“What’s this about, Thomas?” Conn demanded after ten minutes of being told that the three of them should stand and wait. “Who are we waiting for?”

“Ah, here he comes now,” Thomas said with satisfaction.

Conn turned to see the shooter, Timothy Cavendish, striding into the dining hall.

Conn moved to stand in front of Sarah and her mother.

“Do not be surprised, Wishford.” Thomas sneered at Conn.

“I’m not,” Conn retorted, returning his attention to Thomas. “I knew you wouldn’t let him rot while you still sleep with his mother—no matter how much you claim to dislike her when you’re drunk.”

“Thomas!” The duke’s second wife glared at him with wrath in her eyes. Conn almost smiled. “How could you? What did you say to him?”

Thomas shushed her, which earned him an even darker stare.

Enraged, Timothy Cavendish’s mother pushed out of her seat and rose to her feet. “Sarah, come with me.”

“Wife, if you wish to leave, then go, but your maid will remain here.”

“She is mine! She will return to my room to tend to me!”

“Miss Gable,” Thomas addressed her and ignored his wife, “Do not leave this hall.”

“Okay,” Conn stepped forward, bringing the women with him, “first of all Miss Gable isn’t yours, Mrs. Cavendish.

” His fiery gaze warned her not to interrupt.

“She doesn’t belong to anyone. And if someone—” he let his eyes blaze on Thomas—“doesn’t start explaining why we’re here, heads are going to roll. ”

He’d worry later about how and whose heads would be going anywhere. Now, he seethed. Something was up. He had the terrible feeling in his gut that the game was over.

“Son,” Thomas beckoned.

Sarah gave the duke a look of disgust, on Grayson’s behalf, no doubt. Conn shared her sentiment and her disdain.

“Proceed.”

Cavendish stepped forward and faced them all. “I am a witness to these two being lovers.”

Sarah sucked in her breath and staggered a little. Conn put his arm around her to steady her.

“We are not lovers,” he said, more to Mrs. Gable than to anyone else.

“They were kissing in the open!” Cavendish shouted.

His back to the duke’s step-son, Conn clenched his jaw.

“They were kissing passionately and then they hurried into the Gable house. They stayed there until evening broke.”

“Is this true, Your Grace?” Thomas put to him.

“We talked and got to know each other,” Conn growled, refusing to look at Sarah and care only about the shame she must be feeling. “She did nothing wrong.”

“She remained behind closed doors with you, alone in a house!” Cavendish gave Mrs. Gable a little mocking sneer. “You raised a common tramp.”

Conn turned and before anyone could move to stop him, he picked up a wooden chair and smashed it to shards over a table.

He held a thick stick, took five steps to reach Cavendish and smashed the stick over Cavendish’s shoulders.

With the first blow struck, Conn positioned the stick to hit Cavendish in the face.

He was stopped by a dozen guards pointing their swords at him and waiting for orders from the duke.

Conn waited with them. “You’ll never find Emma Ashmore without me.”

“Thomas,” his current wife spat. “You look for her?”

“Yes, I do,” Thomas admitted with a deep sigh that lowered his shoulders from around his neck. “She is the mother of my flesh and blood son.”

At his words, his second wife and her son exchanged worried glances. “How can you betray us?” he accused. “Why did you take us in if you still loved her?”

“I do not love her!” Thomas fired back. “I heard a rumor that she was dead. I wanted this man to validate it. I want to be free of her once and for all.”

He was lying. Again. Narrowing his eyes on him, Conn let a slight smirk creep along his mouth. “She isn’t dead.”

“You have seen her?” Thomas asked with urgency in his voice.

“Of course, I have,” Conn lied. “She orchestrated everything, all of us meeting.” He slipped his amused gaze to Cavendish. “She has plans for you.”

“Father!” he step-son pleaded. “You will stop her, will you not?”

Conn chuckled loud enough for Cavendish to hear.

“No one will lay a finger on you.” Thomas let his gaze rake over the stick in Conn’s fingers.

“Put it down, Wishford. I will not allow any conspiring against my step-son.” He motioned to his guards, but instead of lowering their weapons, they took hold of him and Sarah, while her mother was ordered to Will’s rooms.

Conn was able to fight four men but when they dragged Sarah off, he followed willingly down two stairwells to the dungeon.

When they reached the cells, Conn was thankful that they were clean, at least.

“It is because no one has been in these cells for years,” Sarah told him. “Grayson would not allow it.

After they were locked in separate cells, and the guards left them alone, Conn called out softly to Sarah. “I’ll get us out of here. Don’t worry.”

“How?” Sarah called back.

“With my help.”

They didn’t need to see well in the dimly lit dungeon to recognize Mrs.B.’s voice.

“Connall,” she said lovingly when she reached his cell.

There were a dozen things he wanted to ask her, say to her, but her smile seemed to say there would be time.

“It’s so good to see you back to your old self again,” she said to him, but he had no idea what she meant.

“I’m sorry I missed your birthday a few weeks ago,” she continued.

“I wanted to do something special for you” Her gaze dipped to his legs.

She sniffed, produced a tissue from her sleeve and wiped her eyes.

“Mrs. B., is this all real?”

“Can’t you tell, dear boy.” Her smile widened and she produced a key, also from her sleeve.

“My senses say it is, but my mind denies it.”

She nodded, fit the key in the lock and freed him. Next, she freed Sarah.

“Aria is home, safe and sound. As you too will be when she and Gray come for you.”

“Come for me?” Conn asked, slipping his gaze to Sarah.

“Yes. Gray needs to come for you to bring you to the right time.”

“2024?” he asked, remembering that his sister apparently told people she was from that year.

“Oh, heavens no!” Mrs. B. exclaimed with a look of horror. “Not that year, no. That wasn’t a good year. Enough of that for now. We must go see the duke.”

“Why the duke?” Conn asked, surprised. “Why not just get out of here?”

“No. The duke needs to be reminded of a few things,” Mrs. B. huffed and marched toward the stairs.

Following her, with Sarah beside him, Conn wondered what was going on with his family and their lives in the future that had set them on this paranormal path. Was all this a punishment for things they had done, or a blessing for things they hadn’t done?

“So, Aria can travel through time?” He asked the old woman leading the way.

“No, dear. Gray—my descendant can. He’s also an Ashmore.”

Conn looked at Sarah, curious to know if she was aware of her crush’s powers, but the instant his gaze fell on her profile, bathed in soft golden light from a nearby torch, he forgot why anything else mattered.

He didn’t want to lose her. They hadn’t done anything in her mother’s house but kiss and laugh about nothing in particular, but he’d never done anything more intimate.

He wasn’t a virgin but no woman had ever infiltrated his heart and his head so completely.

Now, because of Timothy Cavendish, Sarah’s reputation was tarnished.

“Connall, dear,” Mrs. B. said and held out her hands to stop him from walking into her. Snapping to, he was about to apologize when she shook her head, moving her gaze from him to Sarah.

“Leave whatever this is be, both of you. It’s not permitted.”

His smile faded on her. “Why did I come here then?”

“Because you rushed through the tear Gray created,” Mrs. B. let him know. “You are responsible for coming here, Connall. Nothing is permitted to occur that is outside of order.”

“If that’s true then my coming here was permitted, and if it was permitted then there’s a reason. You obviously don’t know what that reason is—”

“Connall,” she interrupted. Some things are better left unsaid. Let’s just say you were saved from a fate worse than death.”

Somewhere near him, he heard Sarah gasp. Yes. That’s what he wanted to do—leave some things left unsaid if they were that bad. But—“What about my family?”

“Come, we’ve averted that future.”

“Wait,” Conn stopped her. “So, that’s why you sent them back two years.”

“No, Gray did that. I don’t know how, but I plan on finding out.”

“My family owes him a lot,” Conn replied, then moved closer to Sarah. “But I’m still not going anywhere without Sarah.”