Abby rolled her eyes. “It looks like it.” She wanted to pull the words back as soon as she’d said them, but every time her heart softened toward him, the image of Aline and Aedan, having a cosy tête-à-tête downstairs, soon pushed it away. “I’m sorry. Seeing him with her… I hate it.”
“He loves ye, Abigail. Trust in that, no matter what.”
“I’ll try.” She locked the door after Gwen left and changed into a shift. She looked through all the cupboards and was surprised to see all her old dresses and shawls were still there. In fact, when she looked about the room, nothing had changed at all. It was exactly as she’d left it.
A heavy wooden door in the adjacent room slammed shut and she jumped, knowing Aedan had retired. A moment later the tapestry pushed back and he stood at the threshold of her room, his breathing labored, his eyes wild with something she’d never seen before. Anger? Need? She couldn’t be sure.
“Aedan.” It was the only word she could manage as her tongue felt thick and heavy.
“Abigail?” His voice was low, even, but she heard the slight tremor that ran through it.
She shut her eyes, reveling in the sound of him. How she’d missed that deep baritone that wrapped about her heart and filled it with warmth.
“Your hair is longer.” He continued to stare with an intensity that left her breathless. “Otherwise ye haven’t changed.”
He stepped into the room, letting the tapestry fall back into place. “How is it you’re here? Gwen told me that after the fire her gifts were no longer as strong and that bringing ye back was impossible.”
“Gwen’s great-granddaughter sent me. Your sister is quite clever. She passed the tale about us down through her family, until the one born in my time knew of us. Her name was Kenzie, and she is the spitting image of your sister.” Abby smiled, remembering the beautiful girl. “She sent me back by whatever magical gift your sister once had.”
He nodded, but looked less than enthused by the explanation and she wondered why.
“It’s been a year, Abigail.”
Abby frowned. What did he mean by that? So? Did he mean things had changed? That he’d changed? Had he moved on? “I know. On the night you told Gwen you were getting betrothed to Aline, she promised that should her daughter have the gift, that she would bring me back to you. Gwen also stipulated that I return twelve months after I left, something about not being able to return to a time you’d already been in.”
He ran a hand through his hair and cursed. “I canna marry ye, Abigail. I mean…” He paused, his face paling. “I want to marry ye. You’re all I’ve thought about these past months, but I didn’t think there was any hope.”
A terrible feeling clutched her stomach, the type you get when something awful, an unimaginable horror, is about to be disclosed to you and you can’t stop it. “What are you trying to say?”
“I’ve asked Aline Grant to be my wife and she’s agreed. The betrothal was announced tonight, before your arrival.”
The room spun, and vomit rose in Abby’s throat. She stepped back, feeling for the bed for support. “What?”
He came toward her and Abby lifted her hand, halting his progress. “You’re engaged?” She shut her mouth, feeling it gaping like a guppy fish. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening. “Why would you do that?”
“I dinna think you were coming back. Gwen never told me of her plans.”
“Perhaps she did and you weren’t listening, too busy thinking with your other head.” Or, as Abby suspected, Gwen had to wait for her daughter to show signs of the gift required to pass down through her own daughters.
Anger flickered in his gaze. “Dinna be half-witted. Why wouldn’t she tell me such an important thing? I’ll be sure to ask her come morn.”
“What does it matter now?” Abby looked toward the windows, not wanting to see the man she no longer could have. Holy crap, this wasn’t good. What a colossal mistake. “Your path is set, and you are to wed. What Gwen has to say isn’t going to change that.”
He swore again. “Tell me again what she had done?”
Abby sighed, but did as he asked. “She passed a message down through the women in her family about us and how to send me back.”
“My meddling sister will never learn,” he mumbled, glaring at something over her shoulder.