This night was one of them. Matilda in her green dress, the dancing, the stars, her belief and trust in him. She trusted in him.
Their hastily put together wedding. When they found out she was with child. Ariana’s birth. Seeing her holding that squalling, bright red bundle of tiny human nearly killed him. He knew then he’d never have another restful night’s sleep. It had been easy to dismiss what they learned of that far off future before Ariana was born, but when he saw her, held her— there was no dismissing anything anymore. They did everything they could to prevent that horrible future, or at least Tilly believed so. Ashford knew from the moment he agreed to let Nick Kerr live that he hadn’t done enough.
That was remedied now.
He wiped his burning eyes. It really would be remedied now. Nick was strolling his way. He wasn’t humming anymore, and instead of going back toward the terrace he ambled along toward the opposite side of the house which led off toward the stables and eventually the woods. Ashford smiled, though it made his face hurt. The further Nick got from the house, the less dragging he would have to do.
Again, he felt a twinge of something that warred with his crystal clear intention of ridding the world of one Nicholas Kerr. A voice deep inside him. No, it was outside him, and not too far away.
“Father,” it hissed.
He shook it off, picking up his pace in following Nick. Of course he should be hearing Ariana’s voice at this moment. She was the reason he was doing this. Wasn’t she? God, he hated time travel.
He stopped when Nick paused at the edge of the garden path. Would he keep going further into the woods? Nick turned slightly and Ashford shrank back into the shadows of an olive tree so he wouldn’t be noticed. It turned out Nick only wanted to gaze pensively at the stars, the prat. Did the lout think he ever stood a chance with Matilda? It made his stomach turn to think said lout had been close to his daughter in another time. Not this time, though.
“Father,” Ariana’s voice hissed again in his head. It really did sound like she was somewhere off to the side of him, but that couldn’t be possible. He was slowly but surely going mad from being so close to himself and sick from his stupid spell. It had to have been in his head. Except, Nick seemed to hear it too, turning sharply toward the voice.
Ashford swore softly. He must have moved, shaken an olive branch. He stood stock still until Nick sighed, shook his head and continued to wend his way down the path to the stables. After he deemed it safe to move, Ashford followed.
As soon as Nick was behind the stables, out of sight of anyone who might have been looking out a window from the house, he crouched and aimed the gun.
“Right where your heart would be if you had one,” he whispered.
He almost laughed at that ridiculous sentiment. He needed Nick to have a heart so he could put a bullet through it. He needed to hurry up and finish this before his vision grew as cloudy as his thinking.
“Uncle Julian!” Another voice slipped out from some vague recesses of his mind. It was barely audible past the music that drifted down from the house.
Owen? Well, it stood to reason. The lad and Ariana were practically inseparable. He should have worked out an arranged marriage for the two of them with Kostya when they were born. Perhaps then he wouldn’t be here, muzzily hearing voices and continuing to forget what he was supposed to do.
Nick was now almost out of range of a comfortable shot. Still crouched over, he ran along behind him, intending to shout and get his attention if he got too far away. Also, he was such a bloody rake, he might have a dalliance planned in the small copse of trees that was just ahead. Ashford didn’t want to involve someone who might recognize him and make trouble for his past self, nor did he want a witness. He had to just shoot. It felt so wrong, deep in his roiling guts it felt wrong, but he lifted his arm, and curled his finger around the trigger.
“No!” A flurry of pale green fabric flew out in front of him just as he finally made himself squeeze.
The silencer wasn’t completely silent, but was quiet enough for Ashford to see Nick continuing to ramble along the path, enjoying the evening without knowing he’d just slipped free from certain death. Or without hearing the pained thud of someone hitting the ground behind of him. Ashford felt like he was being doused in icy river water. It was heavy enough to bring him to his knees in front of the small, crumpled figure in the green gown.
“Matilda?” he gasped, trying to sweep some hair from her face. “Oh, God, what have I done?” Someone else shoved him out of the way. “Owen?” The fog in his mind lifted enough to let him see that the person on the ground wasn’t Matilda. He felt more than heard a moan rising from his throat. “What have I done?” he repeated.
“You bloody shot Ariana,” Owen said, pressing his hands against a spot on her dress that was impossibly red.
He bloody shot Ariana. He tried to do something, say something to make things different, but a fist came flying toward his face. After the initial jolt of pain, everything disappeared and he mercifully felt nothing.
Chapter 26
Tilly paced from one side of Ashford’s study to the other, pushing off the walls with her hands each time she reached one. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been in the middle of a full blown panic attack. She breathed in through her nose and gusted it out of her mouth, pushing off the wall, turning on her heel and starting
