Aurelia watched Bard sleep beside her as she toyed indecisively with the knife.
Bard had heard the blade fall, that much Aurelia knew, but in the moment she had managed to distract him from investigating the sound. Would he recall it later? Would he guess what she intended to do?
How she wished she could read his thoughts as easily as he read hers!
Because now Aurelia was sorely confused. Bard’s features were resolute even in sleep, his firm lips only slightly relaxed. Aurelia liked to see his dark hair so tousled, even more now than when he shoved his fingers through it.
Bard’s strong hand rested on her belly, the curve of his fingers possessive, his skin warm against her own. Aurelia was surrounded by his heat and his scent. After what had been between them, she could not bring herself to plunge the blade into the blackness of Bard’s heart.
Could a man of such evil intent have loved her so thoroughly? Aurelia could not believe it. Theirs had been no foul mating, no forced and painful coupling, but an odyssey of pleasure.
She should have been ashamed to find herself hungry for more, but Aurelia was not. Instead, she questioned all her foregone conclusions about the man who slept beside her.
He had shown her only honorable behavior, in this as all other things.
Was it possible Bard, son of Erc, was not the villain she believed him to be? Was it possible he had not been responsible for the death of Thord?
Or was Aurelia merely being skillfully manipulated?
She chewed her lip and watched Bard sleep, her mind riddled with doubts. When he stirred, Aurelia slid the knife beneath the bed, its movement making no sound on the plush carpeting.
She could not strike a blow that might ultimately prove to be an error, however fatal a choice that might prove to be.
Bard’s hand slid slowly over Aurelia’s belly, then closed over her breast. She caught her breath as his thumb did its magic and watched him smile. He opened his eyes and regarded her drowsily, his green gaze unnaturally dark.
“So, you weren’t a dream, princess.” His voice was low with a satisfaction that made Aurelia flush self-consciously.
“I thought you did not dream.”
Bard arched one dark brow. “I never used to.” His hand slid over her belly as he smiled. “Maybe I just didn’t have anything worth dreaming about.”
Aurelia’s heart skipped a beat, but before she could say anything more, Bard disappeared beneath the duvet. She felt him nuzzle her pubic hair and caught her breath.
“Breakfast of champions,” he murmured inexplicably.
Then Aurelia gasped at the heat of his tongue there.
She grasped two fistfuls of his hair, intent on pulling him away, but when he caressed her again, Aurelia forgot all about stopping him.
There was no harm in seeing what he intended, after all.
“I thought you did not like mornings,” she said breathlessly.
“I think I may have underestimated them,” came the growl from beneath the covers.
Aurelia leaned back against the pillows and clutched the linens as his tongue made its mark. “I may have underestimated them myself,” she managed to murmur, certain she had never started a day in such fine style.
Bard did not answer, his tongue resolutely exploring new ground. Aurelia shivered with delight as Bard captured one of her feet in each hand, his thumbs stroking her instep in a seductive caress.
On some level, Aurelia conceded this deed was not the choice of a selfish man.
Then she forgot everything other than Bard’s tongue.
The heat rose beneath Aurelia’s flesh, just as it had the night before, but so much more quickly. She writhed and twisted, straining toward release but never wanting this moment to end.
Neither Bard nor his tongue granted her any quarter. He placed one of her feet on his enormous erection and the awareness of his arousal cast Aurelia over the precipice.
She cried out and gripped his shoulders, certain she would drown him with her release. Aurelia was stunned by both the force and the haste of her climax.
She looked down with some embarrassment to find that half-smile tugging at Bard’s lips as he regarded her from under the bed linens.
Had there ever been a man with such allure? Aurelia smiled back, well aware of the flush that stained her cheeks.
Bard reached up and flicked a finger across the tip of her nose with an affection that melted her heart. “What do you say we blow this Popsicle stand, princess? We could mosey into town after breakfast…”
“You had your breakfast, champion.”
Bard chuckled. “Well, you’re probably hungry.” Aurelia’s stomach growled in approval of the sentiment. “Then we can have a good look for your father.”
“My father?” Aurelia blinked at this sudden return to practicalities.
“Hekod. You remember him.” Bard cast himself up on the pillows beside her and rolled to his back. “I tried to phone the police station yesterday, but I couldn’t get anything sorted out over the phone. We’ll have to go down there to get anything done.” He flicked her a bright glance. “Any objections, princess?”
How could she protest a day in this man’s presence? Although Aurelia told herself she only agreed so that she could study his true character, a part of her denied the justification.
All the same, she would go.
“No.”
“Then, it’s a date.” Bard rolled Aurelia beneath him before she could say anything else, bracing himself above her on his elbows. Aurelia’s heart began to beat a staccato at the sensual promise in his eyes.
“But first,” he whispered, a wicked glint in his eyes, “maybe we should work up an appetite.”
Bard bent his head to capture her lips and Aurelia twined her arms around his neck. She was lost in the circle of this man’s embrace and, for the moment, did not want to be found.
Baird was whistling under his breath as he poured his coffee. The world was filled with promise. In fact, he didn’t know when he’d felt better in the morning.
He hoped Aurelia would hurry.
The sound of a footstep made his head snap up, but it was only Julian. The lawyer’s eyes widened at the sight of the Wall Street Journal and he pounced greedily on it.
“Ah, the lure of civilization!” he crowed and cradled the bundle of newsprint like a long-lost lover.
The comment reminded Baird of his dream the night before and he toyed with the idea of asking Julian’s thoughts. ”It’s a week old,” he acknowledged absently.
Julian checked the date but didn’t look overly disappointed. “But a mere week ago, this paper was in the civilized world.” He poured coffee with a flourish. “Not its cradle, mind you, we’d need the LA Times for that, but still closer to the pulse than you or I have been in recent memory.”
“You don’t have to stake turf,” Baird said amiably. “It’s all yours.”
Julian fired him a knowing glance. “Are you all right?”
“Never better.” Baird grinned and Julian frowned.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so cheerful before ten.” Julian waggled his eyebrows. “If that.”
“Maybe I just had a good night’s sleep.”
Julian remained unconvinced, but the lure of the Journal was too much for him. “Uh-huh.” He unfolded the paper and buried his nose in it with undisguised delight. “God! A sale at Bloomies and I missed it. The things I do for this company…”
Baird cleared his throat. If he didn’t ask now, he never would. “Julian, do you know anything about reincarnation?”
Julian lowered the paper so he could glare pointedly over its top. “Baird, I’m from California. Affectionately known as La La land. What do you think?” He lifted the paper again and snapped it.
“Well,” Baird had a hard time even voicing the question. “Do you think there’s anything to it?”
Julian dropped the paper and stared at him. “You might look like Baird Beauforte,” he whispered, “but you sure don’t sound like him.” The lawyer’s eyes narrowed and he scanned the hall with mock suspicion. “Where’s your pod, Alien? And what have you done with my friend?”
“Come on, Julian, I’m serious.”
Julian was not persuaded. “What’s in your coffee this morning?”
“Nothing. Really, I’m serious about this. What do you think of that stuff?”
Julian eyed Baird for a long moment, then shrugged. He coughed politely. “I don’t see any reason why it couldn’t be true. It’s not like we have legal affidavits of what happens after we die.”
Baird traced a pattern on the table top, fighting against the insistence of an intuition he didn’t like to acknowledge. “So, places and people could be familiar because we knew them before.”
“Yeah, well, why not?”
Why not.
Baird realized his finger was tracing the pattern of whorls tattooed on Aurelia’s own palm and stopped instantly. “Well, have you ever had the feeling that you knew someone before?”
Julian’s eyes appeared above the paper again and his tone was sardonic. “You mean like, my eyes met hers, my heart went thump, and I knew right then right there that we were destined to be together for all time, despite the odds?”
Baird felt the back of his neck heat. He should never have even brought up the subject. “You’re right. It’s dumb. Just forget I said anything.” He stirred his coffee, wishing he could just drop through the floor.
Or that Julian would stop gaping at him.
Finally, Julian cast aside his paper with a noisy rustle, his manner surprisingly aggressive. “Okay, okay, you want to talk about this? I had one time—one time—that I thought I had met someone before. It was weird as hell, but I’ve never forgotten it, so, you could say that I do think there’s something to this stuff.” He scrambled for the paper again and glared at Baird. “Happy?”
“Who was it?” Baird’s question was soft. His skin was tingling with a strange certainty of what Julian would say.
For the first time in living memory, Julian looked uncomfortable with the prospect of speaking his mind. “Remember that first day at university?”
Baird nodded and didn’t dare to breathe.
Julian licked his lips and frowned, his voice dropping low with his confession. “I sat beside you because I felt like I knew you already, like we were already good friends, even though I had never met you before in my life. It was nuts, but in that moment, I was sure of it.” He frowned at his coffee cup, then flicked a glance to Baird. “And I’ve never forgotten that.”
The men stared at each other.
Baird marveled at what he had just heard. Julian—pragmatic, legal-minded, prove-it-to-me-twice-before-I’ll-believe-it-and-put-it-in-writing-besides—Julian, had had the same feeling as he had.
And now the man stumbled over his words in his haste to explain himself. “Look, don’t be getting any ideas, all right? I mean, you’re not my type at all, Baird, I’m as straight as they make ’em and you know it.”
Julian rustled his newspaper defiantly. “Don’t go thinking that there’s some subtext here. I may be a funky, left-tending kind of a guy but I have really, really definite ideas about gender.” He glared at Baird. “Okay?”
“Okay.” Baird agreed easily, more than happy to let Julian return to his newspaper.
Julian’s admission encouraged Baird as nothing else could have. Baird respected Julian, he knew Julian, had known him for years.
And apparently, he had known Julian even before that.
Well, why not? You could only recognize people you had met before, right? And if you hadn’t met them in this life, why not in another?
It all made terrific sense, once Baird accepted the premise.
Kind of like Aurelia. And having known her before would explain the sticky problem of how he could recognize her without remembering where they had ever met before.
Perfectly logical.
Which meant Baird had Dunhelm and its effect on him all figured out. Mystery solved. He’d been here before, maybe as this Bridei guy. Simple. He had known Julian before, he had known Aurelia before. The woman in question sailed into the restaurant and treated him to a breathtaking smile.
Baird’s eyes met hers, his heart went thump and he felt like he had the world by a string.
Now all he had to do was find Aurelia’s father.
And in the mood he was in, that looked like a piece of cake.
“Are you not hungry yet?” Aurelia demanded several hours later and Baird looked to her in surprise. She was serious.
Again.
“Let me guess. You are, right?”
Aurelia nodded and watched him expectantly. Baird sighed, admitted they weren’t getting anywhere in a hurry anyhow and scanned the square.
Hekod was not prepared to be found, despite Baird’s earlier optimism. The cops knew nothing of him, no one had seen him in either village on the island and Baird was really beginning to worry the old guy was dead.
But that was nothing compared to how much he dreaded Aurelia being forced to face that. If anything, his protective instinct toward her had only gotten stronger after the incredible night they had shared.
He didn’t want to see her hurt for the world.
But Baird was sure she knew the truth already, at least on some level. But how would confronting it—again—affect her? Not well, Baird guessed, but wasn’t sure what to do about it.
Maybe she was right. Maybe he’d think better with something in his stomach.
Baird noticed a tea shop, and turned his steps in that direction. Aurelia sniffed appreciatively as they crossed the threshold, her face lighting up at the sight of an elderly woman sipping tea in the corner.
It was Talorc’s mother and she beamed at Aurelia in turn. Relief washed through Baird that someone recognized Aurelia. Maybe Ursilla would know what had happened to Hekod. He deliberately took the table next to hers.
“Good morning, Ursilla.” Baird nodded at the bags clustered at the older woman’s feet. “Out doing your shopping?”
“Gemdelovely Gemdelee! And Mr. Beauforte, as charming as can be.” The older lady nodded to Baird, whose heart had leaped at the unexpected mention of That Name again. “You’ve a sharp eye, as clear as can be, though I wonder if you see all you can see.”
As usual, Talorc’s mother was a bit confusing to understand. Baird was not surprised Aurelia settled in beside the dotty older woman with sparkling eyes.
‘Like to like’ as his twelfth foster father often said.
Baird ordered tea and scones from the bustling matron running the tea shop.
“I do not understand why all insist on calling me Gemdelovely,” Aurelia commented with a bit of irritation.
Ursilla smiled mysteriously and stirred her tea.
Baird leaned forward. “Yes, Ursilla, perhaps you could help. Elizabeth said that there’s an old story about that name. Would you happen to know it?”
“Oh, yes indeed!”
“What is it?” Aurelia asked. “Will you tell us?”
Ursilla looked from one to the other as she sipped her tea, her pinkie lifting ever so slightly from the bone china handle. “You do not remember the tale, as old as it might be?”
“I never knew it,” Aurelia and Baird said simultaneously.
They glanced to each other as Ursilla laughed aloud. “Is that the truth? Well, we shall see.”
She cleared her throat and set her teacup aside, folding her hands primly on the tabletop. “It is said there was once, beyond the sea, a Viking lord who was fine to see. His hair was gold, he could hold his mead, he was strong with sword and brave of deed. When he earned his ship, he put to sea, and with his crew of loyal men, Hekod came to Orkney.”
Uh-oh. Baird flashed a glance to Aurelia who sat stiffly on the edge of her seat. He wasn’t quite so sure this was a good idea anymore, but Aurelia was listening with rapt attention.
The tea came in that moment, cups and saucers settled on the tiny table with a clatter, followed by a teapot in a horrible frilly cozy, a creamer and sugar. The scones were steaming from the oven and smelled wonderful.
Aurelia, tellingly enough, didn’t even notice the arrival of the food. Baird buttered a scone and poured the tea.
Aurelia didn’t look away from Ursilla. “Go on!”
Ursilla cleared her voice. “There was a king on the isle, known far and wide in those times. He was named Erc Destroyer and was greatly feared for his crimes. People longed to escape from the heavy hand of their king, but that had not the power before Hekod Viking.”
“No sooner had Hekod Viking arrived, his willing men all around, then the people rallied to his side and drove Erc from their ground. The old king was angered his people did not hold him dear, but when he drowned in escaping, the whole of the isle erupted in a cheer.”
“Hekod Viking was made king by people glad of his blade, and he, grateful for their praise, took to wife a local maid. Gemma Whitefeather was a witch and a beauty unsurpassed, she gave Hekod a son, shortly thereafter a wee lass. All was happy in their kingdom, they ruled over a prosperous age, and ’twould be long years before tragedy darkened the page.”
Aurelia’s face, Baird noted with concern, had gone white. He urged a cup of tea toward her and a buttered scone. She smiled thinly and took a bite, but chewed mechanically as she watched Ursilla.
This really didn’t look like it had been such a good idea.
But Ursilla wasn’t going to stop. “As was told, Gemma was a witch greatly empowered, she held the grip of many of the world’s wonders in her power. There were many of her ilk in those days long forgotten, and the birth of the daughter meant another had been begotten. This child was not only destined to share her mother’s gifts, but she was uncommon beautiful, the merest glimpse of her brought a smile to the lips.”
“Gemma summoned three of her cohorts to bless the new child, and they all were delighted to share the blessings they had styled. The witches had brought blessings one two three, but evil intruded uninvited, cackling with glee.”
“She was Drustic of Sutherland, known as Drustic the Black, and she had come, she declared, to give Hekod his own back. A cousin of Erc, Drustic yearned for vengeance with a thirst, and she had come back to Dunhelm to make Hekod’s burden worse. The other witches shrank away, while Gemma sheltered her own, and Drustic gave a wicked cackle before pronouncing her doom.”
Aurelia leaned forward, her features drawn with tension. Baird opened his mouth to suggest that Ursilla stop this tale, but no sound came out of his throat.
What was going on?
“Oh, you will hear all of this tale,” Ursilla told him with a stern glance. “Of that you may be sure, for it is a lesson to us all of what the past can make clear.”
Baird figured he should have gotten used to the hair on the back of his neck standing up by now.
Ursilla lifted a finger. “Drustic summoned the forces from the darkness she had roamed, and she bent them on the child, so innocent and alone. Drustic pronounced that the babe would prick her thumb—in the midst of the whorl—and a darkness then would come. She would die from the wound, no one’s efforts would avail, and after her demise, Hekod’s kingdom would fail. Certain she had wrought all the wickedness she could do on that day, Drustic lifted her bony arms, whistled to the wind and flew away.”
“As you might imagine, the witches were distraught. Here was a one of their own, cursed with evil she had not wrought. They thought very busily of what help they could be, then focused their aid on the witch making blessing number three. That witch summoned her powers and focused her will, and she decreed that the child would not die of Drustic’s will. The babe would but sleep, if ever she pricked her thumb, and that babe would awaken when her true love did come.”
“The witches were quite pleased with all they had done, though Gemma considered matters far from done. Though she thanked her good friends for their gifts made in joint, that night she purged Dunhelm halls of every item with a point.”
“When Hekod protested all Gemma had seen done, she feared he would think her a fool and make fun. She lied to her spouse and said she feared for her young, that they might stumble in the hall and great damage could be done. Hekod loved his wife clear to the bone, and though he thought her worries whimsy, he ensured her desire in Dunhelm was done.”
“And so they passed many years in happiness and peace, until suddenly one winter, Gemma died in her sleep.”
“All were dismayed at the passing of their queen, though none more than Hekod, or his children, young and green. It was not much later that tragedy came to pass, and ’twas said it was because the lady’s spells could not last. When Gemma passed from this life, ’twas said an age came to an end, and the white-feathered eagles for which she was named were never seen again.”
Ursilla sipped her tea and there wasn’t a sound in the shop.
“A messenger came boldly, sent by Bard, a warrior true, declaring his lord as a man desiring Hekod’s daughter to woo. Now, Hekod remembered well that Erc had had a child name of Bard, and saw this as a chance to settle an old score. His son rode out willingly to meet the dead king’s spawn, but their trust was poorly served by the very next dawn.”
“On that day, the son’s head was returned to Dunhelm—he had been murdered by Bard, though he was son of the realm.”
Baird noted with a start Aurelia was weeping. The tears ran silently down her cheeks as he watched with concern, but when Ursilla paused, it was Aurelia who silently urged her on.
He reached out and took her hand, reassured by her strong grip on his fingers. Baird was determined to help Aurelia face whatever obstacles were before her.
“Hekod was devastated by the murder of his heir, no less by Bard’s certain intent of war. The son of Erc was determined to have Dunhelm for his own, and he cared little for any cost paid to win his father’s crown.”
“The day Bard’s ships were sighted dawned sunny and bright, and Hekod’s forces climbed the walls, armed with all of their might. The daughter of Gemma, both lovely and strong, took her crossbow to do her part against this wrong. But no sooner had the princess of Dunhelm climbed the wall, then her arrow pricked her thumb, in the midst of the whorl. She fell into that slumber, prophesied and foretold, Hekod crying with pain when his daughter he did behold.”
“They won the battle that day, and Bard died by his own blade, though the son of Erc had a dying breath to say. He declared he would be back, that he would make the girl his own, and woe to any man who stood between him and his goal.”
“Though the fight had been won, Hekod had paid a heavy toll. It was said he aged a decade and suddenly looked old. Hekod sent word through every kingdom of what had gone amiss, and promised great riches for the man who woke her with a kiss.”
“This man would be her true love, Hekod knew that without fail, yet men came one after the other, time passed and the king grew frail. Hekod stayed beside his daughter, weeping as he died, and clearly ’twas his broken heart that stole Hekod from her side.”
“When the great king died, his kingdom crumbled, and the men who had served, knew their king and lord would see his daughter’s safety preserved. They built her a chamber, a room whose place is lost, and they sealed her inside, sparing no cost. And with every stone they raised and with every hinge they cast, the time of Hekod’s happy reign slid into the past.”
“When the chamber was done, men of valor wept without shame, and ’twas after it all Hekod’s daughter earned her new name. Spawn of Gemma, yet even more lovely than could be, she became known in Dunhelm as Gemdelovely Gemdelee. A new prophecy was made for Gemdelovely Gemdelee; should her true love kiss her, his bride she will be.”
Baird sat up with a start when he heard the phrase from his dream again. Aurelia inhaled sharply, but Ursilla’s words continued, her cadence as rhythmic as a song.
“It is said her true love still searches, as persistent as can be, though no one knows exactly what happened to Gemdelovely Gemdelee. And to this day in the Orkney whene’er a pretty lass is seen, folks say she must be the revived Gemdelovely Gemdelee.”
Ursilla smiled at the pair of them and the matron running the tea shop sighed with romantic contentment. “No one can tell an old tale as well as you, Ursilla,” she murmured.
But Aurelia was pushing to her feet.
She stumbled over the chair and Baird reached to steady her but she evaded his grasp. Her eyes glittered wildly, and she shook her head, her color rising in her cheeks.
“It is not true! It cannot be true!” Aurelia ran from the tea shop, tripping over the threshold on her way to the street.
Baird lurched to his feet to give chase, but Ursilla latched on to his arm with remarkable tenacity for her age. Her eyes were bright with determination.
“Leave her be, Mr. Beauforte, and you will see, that there is no one stronger than soft Gemdelovely Gemdelee.”
“I can’t believe that. She’s vulnerable right now!” He shook his sleeve but the old woman’s grip was strong.
Ursilla chuckled to herself, then wagged a playful finger at Baird. “Just because you stop believing in things does not mean they cease to be. There’s more to you than the world might see—look closely, Mr. Beauforte, and you will see.”
Baird stared at the woman for a long moment, not sure what to make of the knowing smile that danced over her lips.
“She’s not Gemdelovely Gemdelee,” he said finally. “Aurelia is just a confused woman who needs some help.” He shook his arm pointedly and to no avail.
Ursilla shook her head. “The only thing of which Gemdelovely has need, is the kiss of her true love, a man loyal in deed.”
“What she needs is to find out the truth about her father,” Baird said tightly. “And to shake herself free of a lot of old nonsense.”
With that, Baird freed himself from Ursilla’s grip and strode to the door, hating his sense that the older woman had been ready to let him go anyway. He dropped some money into the hands of the woman who ran the tea shop, ignoring the wonder in her eyes, and dashed out into the square.
And there, Baird’s fears were proven absolutely right.
There was no sign of Aurelia anywhere.
Baird shoved his hands in his pockets and glared at a kid openly surveying him, the only person on the street. “Have you seen a blonde woman? She just came out of here.”
The boy shook his head and smiled. “Just you, mister.”
Baird turned away in disgust. He checked the trio of streets that made up the intersection of the town, but didn’t see another living soul, let alone Aurelia.
It was as though she had vanished into thin air.
The sign over the Boar and Thistle creaked in the wind when Baird stalked back into the square. Garth’s cab was still beside the curb, but maybe Aurelia had gone looking for a ride back to Dunhelm. Baird shoved a hand through his hair in frustration. It couldn’t hurt to find out.
There was nowhere else to look, after all.
Aurelia ran.
She was out of the town in no time at all, heading for the coast at dizzying speed. All she could think was that she had to get away, away from Ursilla, away from silly stories, away from a tale that sounded far too familiar for comfort.
Gemdelovely Gemdelee, indeed!
Aurelia scrambled over loose stones, avoiding the black road, climbing over rocks to the shore instead. The coast was familiar, unlike all that was behind her. She did not want to look at Julian’s magic, she did not want to fight to explain great mysteries right now. Aurelia tried to make her breathing come more evenly as she kept her eyes on the sea.
The Vikings would come.
Her father was not dead of grief.
She would not permit Ursilla’s poem to be true.