To hell with her shoes. “What wall of water?” He shook his head, troubled. “There was no wall of water in my dreams.”
But then his dreams of her never had an ending.
“All I know is it killed me.” He heard the frown in her voice as he made sure she stayed behind him, and they started downward. Her voice dropped an octave. “Now that I’m here, I can say with confidence you didn't want that for me even though I had the sensation you both pulled me here and pushed me away.”
He would imagine not. The idea of her dying that way didn't sit well at all. The idea of her dying at all, for that matter. He offered no response as they continued down. It had been years since he’d come here, and it had eroded more over time.
“Why has it been years?” she asked, following his thoughts a little too easily. “It’s clearly a revered location.”
It was, and he was surprised she recognized such. “Why would you say that?”
“Because the bridge was built with such love to bring people here when really, it wasn’t necessary.”
Built with care? “’Tis just a bridge.”
“A bridge so lovingly carved with that many Celtic symbols isn’t just a bridge.”
“Carved with what?” Liam frowned back at her, and good thing because she lost her footing and slid right into him. He braced himself against the rock and held onto her before her momentum took them both.
“Symbols,” she said a little breathlessly, clearly embarrassed and as aware of him as he was of her. Her eyes rose to his. “Sorry about that.”
“’Tis all right,” he said gruffly, far too close to bracing her against one of these rock walls and taking her. Getting what he’d wanted from nearly the moment they traveled back in time, even if it meant sliding to their death moments later.
“Like you said,” he went on, not letting her go when he should. “You’re not dressed well for this.” He frowned when it occurred to him what else she’d said. “What symbols carved into the bridge?”
“You know. The symbols that are everywhere ” She met his frown when she realized he had no idea what she was talking about. “Faint like they’re really old.”
He shook his head. “There are no symbols carved into that bridge, Shannon.”
Liam was about to go on when tiny bits of rock and dirt rained down on them.
“Your wolf is relentless,” he muttered when they looked up to see Tréan baring his teeth down at Liam from above.
“Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?” She pulled free of him and braced herself against the rock. “What does he know that we don’t?”
He couldn’t help a crooked grin. “That you long for me, so ‘tis only a matter of time before he needs to be on his way?”
Shannon rolled her eyes. “In no reality ever.” She gestured down the path. “Either get moving, or I’ll pass you.”
While tempted to remind her who was king and should be ordering others around, chances were too great she would outrank him soon. And while he didn’t intend to let her order him around in front of others even then, he suspected in private things might prove otherwise.
“Well?” She arched an eyebrow. “Are you going to go?”
“For now,” he granted, leaving it at that, not about to let her know how easily he was already inclined to give in to her.
This time when he made his way down, he kept a firm hand on either side until the path ended on a more level but narrow pathway. This one forked right and left along the craggy rock walls of a cylinder-shaped alcove, each ending on the other sideat a towering rock wall carved by wind and sea over time. All that stood between their location and the ocean below.
“This is unreal,” Shannon murmured, awed as she looked down at the peaceful water washing over the alcove’s floor far below to the huge image carved into the rock wall across the way.
“That’s somewhat similar to what I heard the Old Man of the Mountain in New Hampshire was like before it fell.” She admired the crowned face of a man. “Only this is different. Not a profile but head-on and far sadder. As though something is being taken from him. More regal considering his crown yet crestfallen somehow.”
He had never known what to make of the image other than he sensed no human hands or even magic in its creation. As far as he could tell, the elements had created it over hundreds of years. He could admit it was impactful. That it seemed a heavy crown on the king's bent head.
“No wonder your people revere this place.” Shannon’s eyes widened between the image and him. “It’s you.”
“Nay.” Why would she think that? He shook his head. “’Twas here long before I was and bears no resemblance.”
“Of course it does.” She frowned between him and the image. “How do you not see that? How do you notfeelit?”
