The Art of Stealing Time

Watch have lightning available at their whim.”

“What is going on in here?” A slight woman with long black hair touched with dark green strode into the tent, her eyes angry and her movements sharp and fast. “There was a huge flash of light and—what happened to those two mortals? Who killed them?”

“They aren’t dead,” Gregory said, nudging one of them with the toe of his shoe. The man moaned and curled up into a fetal ball.

The woman swung around, her gaze pinning him. Her expression turned dark. “A Traveller! What business have you here?”

“Holly! I’m glad you’re here—I was about to call for you. That man is here on the king’s command,” Ethan said before Gregory could answer. “He said he was here to steal that dog and deer statue, but the truth is much more frightening. He smote those two mortals with lightning! He is a lightning-wielder, a manipulator of time and weather, and I for one intend to protest this breach of protocol!”

Holly studied the two men briefly before leveling her gaze on Gregory. The look in her dark green eyes wasn’t at all friendly. “Indeed. That is a clear violation of the War Agreement of 1717 and, I believe, grounds for punitive action. We shall take this up with that blasted no-name knight. Come, Ethan. You must lodge the protest.”

“Wait! What?” Gwen asked, looking confused. “Why is Gregory being a Traveller a violation? He hasn’t done anything wrong. Those guys had a knife on one of my moms!”

“That is of no concern to me. Ethan!”

Ethan had looked like he was about to slip away, but a sharp glance from Holly stopped him from sidling past them. “What is it, dearest?”

“You have to go tell that knight of this atrocity.”

“But I was about to start a new chapter, and you know how I need to concentrate when I do that—”

Holly grabbed his arm and dragged him over to the private section of the tent. Silence fell around them, making it very easy to hear Holly chastising Ethan for lack of enthusiasm about his own martial campaign, and his feeble protestations.

“Why are they so pissed about you?” Gwen asked Gregory.

He shrugged. “To paraphrase the spiky Holly, it is of no concern to me. Do you have time to help me hunt for the missing bird, or must you report for duty soon?”

“I’m not on until the afternoon shift, but . . .” Gwen cast a worried glance toward her mothers, who were huddled together, conferring quietly.

“You’d prefer to spend the time with them?” He ignored the burn of jealousy, telling himself that he wasn’t so needy that he couldn’t share her with her family.

Although really, they’d had her for over a century, and he’d only known her a few days. It was only right that his claim on her time should take precedence.

“No, it’s not that.” His heart lightened at her words. She bit her lower lip and added in a near-whisper, “I don’t like them being here where I can’t easily keep an eye on them.”

“They don’t appear to be in any danger now.” He nudged one of the two inert men, who made an involuntary rude noise. Gwen and Gregory moved away. “If it will make you feel better, I will bind them and secure them in a location away from your mothers.”

“It’s not just them. It’s this whole setup.” She rubbed her arms as if she was cold. “I don’t trust Holly, for one. And Ethan isn’t the most reliable person in the world, what with his self-obsession, and—” She waved her hand around in the air.

“I admit he has odd personality quirks, but I doubt if he means any harm to your mothers. He appears to be quite happy with them.”

“Now,” she said with emphasis. “But I have all too much experience with how a happy relationship with my moms can go pear-shaped. And if that happens, I’d prefer being here to run interference.”

“Are you always called upon to protect them?” He wanted badly to tell her that it wasn’t her job to do so, but wasn’t sure how she would respond to that. She had a strong protective streak in her, that much he knew, but was it so overpowering that it drove her to forgo her own life in order to oversee theirs?

“Goddess, no. If I had to do that, I’d never be able to leave their side and would, at this very moment, be stark, staring insane. I only intervene on the really serious stuff in an attempt to keep things from going too hideously wrong.”

“If it will make you happier to have them near you, then that is what must happen,” he said, relieved that he wouldn’t spend the rest of his life being at his mothers-in-laws’ beck and call.

Mothers-in-law. The words resonated in his head. When had he decided that Gwen was the one woman he wished to bind himself to? He studied her as she watched her mothers, noting her delicate features, the way her hair flowed back from her temples, the fine black line of her brows, the cute little nose and sensible chin. She had a light scattering of freckles across her cheeks and nose, which for some reason, made something in his belly tighten.

Oh, yes, he wanted her, all right . . . but he wanted her in more than just a sexual way. He wanted her in his life. He wanted her waking him up in the morning. He wanted to show her off to his family and watch the looks of envy pass among his cousins. He wanted to make his grandmother appreciate just how wonderful and unique she was. He wanted to see the years pass with her at his side, knowing she wanted him just as much.

He took her hand, and led her over to where her mothers stood. He bowed first to them, then to Gwen, bending over her hand and kissing it. “Gwenhwyfar Byron Owens, I ask you before your mothers to bless my life by joining it with yours. Will you be my wife?”

Gwen’s eyes widened in a manner that had him suddenly worrying they might just pop right out of her head. She tried to snatch her hand back, but he tightened his hold, stroking the back of her fingers. Her mothers exclaimed, one of them clapping her hands happily. “You what?” Gwen almost shrieked.

“Will you marry me?”

“No!” Gwen succeeded in jerking her hand from his.

“Oh, Gwenny!” her mother cried.

He felt like someone had punched him in the balls. She didn’t want to marry him?

“Gwen, I think that perhaps you’re not giving this young man a chance,” her second mother said, frowning at her. “Since you insist on being heterosexual, you might as well take the best that the males have to offer, and this one seems to be very competent and considerate.”

“Thank you,” he said, too despondent to give the older woman another bow.

Gwen’s touch ceased the slow, icy fingers of despair that had started to creep through his heart. She laid a hand on his chest, and said, “I didn’t mean no, I meant . . . I meant . . . oh, I don’t know what I meant. Not no, but . . . crickets on a cracker, Gregory! Do you really think that now is the time to talk about a possible future together?”

“Is it because of what I told you about Travellers marrying their own kind? Because I can assure you that you are worth any sacrifice—not that I believe our life together will be in any way a sacrifice. My grandmother is stubborn, but I believe that she will, in time, be persuaded to see reason.”

Irritation flashed across her face briefly. “Yes, well, that’s a whole other subject—”

“It’s quite simple,” he told her. “I wish to spend the remainder of my days with you. I have been brought up to believe that if I feel that way about a woman, the honorable thing is to marry her, and thus I have asked you to marry me. Do you wish to likewise spend your life with me?”

“We’ve only known each other a few days,” Gwen protested, shifting uncomfortably.

“It’s long enough for me to know that I want you.”

“Yes, but in the overall scheme of things, it’s not exactly normal to tell someone you just met that you want to marry them. I’m not a mortal, Gregory. I don’t believe in disposable marriages. When I marry, it will be forever.”

“That is exactly how I feel,” he agreed.

“I knew I liked him,” Gwen’s mom said.

“He will be a good son-in-law,” the other agreed.

“Moms! I’m not getting married!”