“Your disasters usually do end well.” Orla sighed. “For someone else. The poor child was hiking with his uncle,” she told Faelan. “They got caught in a rockslide, and the uncle died. The boy had a broken leg. The cell phone was buried with the uncle, and there wasn’t a soul around for thirty miles. He took shelter in a cave. He’d been there two days without food or water. When he heard the rescue helicopter, he crawled out and waved his shirt. The pilot saw him. Sweet boy. Bree visits him every year.”
“Was that the cave where she broke her ankle?”
“
“Damnation.”
“It was a small cliff,” Bree mumbled, glad her mother didn’t know half of her adventures. Too bad her sixth sense didn’t work in her own life.
“Her father, rest his soul, should’ve put his foot down. He bought her the most beautiful dolls, but all she wanted to do was hunt for treasure and explore caves, so he trekked around the countryside after her, metal detecting, bringing home twisted bits of metal they called coins. And the Civil War reenactments, egad! All those men lying on the ground pretending to be dead. Just not healthy for an eight-year-old. It’s her specialty now, the Civil War.”
The laughter left Faelan’s eyes like a candle doused by a wave.
“Mother, you’re going to make Faelan think I’m unstable.” She gave her mother a
“Oh, but she’s not nearly as impulsive now,” her mother said, tightening her grip on Faelan’s arm. “She has quite a reputation as an antiquities expert. Her knowledge is very much in demand. She authenticated a dagger last year for a prince. And since most of her work is consulting, it won’t interfere with having children. You do like children?”
Bree suspected her mother had the wedding half planned. “Aren’t you going to be late meeting Sandy, mother?”
Her mother glanced at her watch. “Oh, where did the time go? I’m going to miss seeing her granddaughter. I’m beginning to think I’ll never have one.” She gave a dramatic sigh.
If they weren’t careful, her mother might get one, wedding or not.
Bree set the box behind the couch. “I need to leave too. I’m supposed to meet Janie—”
“Not alone,” Faelan said, scowling.
Bree’s hands balled into fists. “Are you going to do this again?”
“It’s too dangerous. I don’t trust Janie’s boyfriend,” he added, when Orla raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow.
“So protective, Briana. Just like your father.”
Bree gave Faelan a defiant glare. She didn’t need another man protecting her.
“Give me a hug, darling. I’m so glad I got to see you. And Faelan, it was wonderful meeting you. I hope this won’t be our last visit. Oh, what’s this?” she asked, leaning back to look at Bree’s necklace. “A gift?” She blasted Faelan with a blinding smile, like the necklace was a three-carat engagement ring.
“Don’t you recognize it?” Bree asked.
“Should I?”
“It was Daddy’s. Grandma gave it to me after he died. I… lost it. Faelan found it for me.”
Orla’s smile collapsed. She looked blank. “Your father’s. Of course. How silly of me. I must have forgotten. It’s been so long since I’ve seen it. Well, I have to run. I’ll probably sleep at Sandy’s. I almost suffocated last night from the dust and perfume. Faelan, dear, would you start the car and load my luggage? It’s so nice to have a man around. You need to bring him to Florida for a visit, Briana.”
“What are we going to do about her?” Bree asked, when her mother drove off.
“I was thinking she could give you lessons in proper female behavior.”
She turned to glare at him and saw his grin. He’d seemed delighted to meet her mother. He probably missed his own.
“But I’ll have to talk to her about embarrassing you,” he said.
Bree felt as gushy as when she’d seen the sanded floor. She started to hug him, but decided against it. They’d hardly touched since the bed and breakfast. Neither seemed sure which direction to go after making love again. Faelan acted worried, like he’d taken advantage of her, and Bree was feeling the aftershocks of discovering she’d almost married an eight-hundred-year-old demon.
“Why’d your cousin lock you in the crypt?”
“He was a brat. We thought it was haunted. We called it the Tomb of the Unnamed.” She could still remember the terror as Reggie closed the door and his wicked nine-year-old laugh, as he’d taunted that she was locked inside with a thing so evil it couldn’t be named. That was all she could remember about the event.
“What made you think it was haunted?”
She smiled. “Maybe I knew you were in there,” she said and shivered. She thought he paled, but it might have been a trick of the light. “There’ve always been stories about lights moving at night, shadows near the graves. Forget Cousin Reggie. I’ve been dying to show you something I found this morning.” Faelan followed her to the computer and stood behind her chair. “See there? Faelan Connor, born 1833.”
Chapter 21
“It’s me.” Faelan leaned closer, eyes soaking up the words on the screen. “Aiden there, that’s my father.”
