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But when Nora starts having vivid dreams about a compelling, mysterious stranger with dark curls, sexy eyes and a charming Irish lilt, her defenses seem to be breaking. He says he is her soul mate – that he has conquered many centuries to contact her. Can this be real? Or is she going mad? Nora tries to fight the gentle seduction that threatens to thaw her icy façade. But when she’s forced to come face to face with real evil she must call on all her magickal resources, including her lover from another life, to save her.
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In an adventure outside of time, Nora learns that you cannot run from your destiny.
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Her fingers drifted to her neck to calculate her pulse. It kicked up some, not out of fear, though.
The man looked over his shoulder, and their eyes caught. Her fingers still on her throat caught the jump in her heartbeat.
“Are you coming, darling?” His voice, warm with promise, carried a hint of laughter.
Nora found herself smiling. How strange. She almost never smiled at men, because it could be considered an invitation. Odd that she’d ended up in a relationship with Ogden. Then again, “relationship” might be a misleading term. She ran errands for him while using their association as a shield to keep other men away. Their physical relationship was almost non-existent. Ogden was not a hand-holder or casual kisser. He never pushed her for sex, which made him the ideal pretend boyfriend. The peculiar affiliation kept her safe from the wild emotional swings other women experienced when involved with men. She also believed it erected a barrier around her that other men dared not try to pass. Her interaction with various men had proved that wasn’t always the case.
The man regarded her with patient and amused eyes. “Are you holding your head on? Was it about to tumble off your swan-like neck?”
He thought he was a funny one. “I was taking my pulse. It’s when you—”
“I know what taking a pulse is. That’s one of the reasons I need you here—to help with the sickness.” He held her arm and helped her over a fallen log.
Illness she understood. “How can I help?” She considered his hand on her elbow. She had never been one to take assistance, even as a child. As the oldest, she felt the need to do everything on her own. She was a trailblazer of sorts. No one told her she had to, unless you counted her inner voice. No reason she couldn’t have scampered across the log on her own, but she appreciated the gesture.
“What’s your name? You keep calling me by my mine, but never mentioned yours.”
“My sainted grandmother would have my head if she saw my poor manners.” Holding on to her hand, he led her to two fallen logs bordering the fire. “Your chaise, my lady.”
He sat on the other log and used a long-handled spoon to stir the pot suspended over the fire. “I am Clayton McFane. I supposed I expected you to recognize me since we have loved each other for several lifetimes. The first few were a little rocky, but once we got the sense of one another as soul mates, we came together quite well.” A grin brightened his face as his eyes flickered up, demonstrating he was recalling times gone by.
Make that, times he thought had gone by. Nora wasn’t all that sure she believed they’d known each other for lifetimes. Still, she’d witnessed both her sister and grandfather transported through time, as easily as if only going to the next city for shopping. Her nana swore she and Grandpa Buell were soul mates. There was also something reassuring about Clayton.
Placing her hands on the log, she leaned back and stretched her legs toward the fire. Her cartoon pajama pants looked wildly out of place in the woodland setting. You’d think she would have picked out something more appropriate to wear in her dream.
Clayton ladled the fragrant stew into a bowl.
“Clayton,” she started, earning a smile for using his name. “How come you know me and where I was?”
“Oh, that.” He straightened and walked toward her, carrying the bowl. “Granny McFane claims I have a touch of the fey about me. That’s why I often know things that are going to happen.”
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