Page 65 of No Place in Time

“I don’t know,” he said.

“But—”

“You cannot marry him,” he interrupted. It was a demand, not a suggestion.

“No,” she agreed. “I cannot.”

They stood facing each other, only a breath apart. She could see the pulse in his throat, the way his jaw flexed.

Part of her wanted to rage at him still, for the lies, for leaving her, for being a Veyron. But a larger part, the part that had been aching for months, wanted only this: him, here, alive.

“Cecily,” he breathed, and lifted his hand to her face.

She closed her eyes at his touch. His thumb traced her cheekbone. She leaned toward him. Then he pulled her in and kissed her, and she melted into his arms, wrapping her own arms around his neck.

Her whole body had gone soft and useless. She didn’t care. She would faint if he didn’t stop kissing her. But don’t stop, she thought. Don’t ever stop.

He kissed her lips, then her wet cheeks.

“Cecily,” he said in a choked voice, his face buried in her neck. “I’ve been mad with worry these months. Thank God I found you.”

“Finn, we must use the machine. It must be soon. Now. Or I will be the wife of that… that…”

She heard a small sound somewhere beyond the broken wall. It sounded like a foot against gravel.

They both heard it and pulled apart, turning slightly, arms still around each other, seeing nothing. Finn’s hand tightened on her waist. They stood very still for a long moment, listening.

“I’ll come for you,” he whispered.

“When?” she asked, breathless.

He hesitated. “Soon. I still need to repair the machine. But soon. Be ready.”

He kissed her again, his hand brushing her face.

Cecily left first, heading toward the path back to Malethurst. Finn waited a few minutes before following, taking a different route.

And somewhere beyond the ivy-choked wall, unseen, someone breathed and waited long after they had gone.

35

FINN

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Finn had been at Alys’s cottage for two weeks, and Cecily’s wedding was less than a month away. Every day he lost was a day closer to losing her completely.

He woke before dawn and sat up carefully. His ribs still ached, but they no longer screamed. Today he would walk to the cave. Today he would bring the machine back and begin to repair it.

Alys was already at the fire, stirring the pot that never seemed to empty. The children were still asleep behind the curtain that divided the cottage.

“Ye’re up early,” Alys said without turning.

“I need to fetch something from the woods.”

She glanced at him. “Should ye be wanderin’ about? Ye’re still mendin’.”

“I have to. I’ll be careful.”