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Daire looked over his shoulder, his eyes wide.
“What is it?” Toby asked.
“It’s a picture of a girl.” Daire was looking at Graydon, puzzled by his reaction.
“I think it’s Japanese,” Lorcan said, “except that the young woman is blonde.” The three of them looked at Toby.
“What’s wrong?”
Graydon handed the paper to Lorcan, then left the house. They heard the door close behind him.
Toby took the paper from Lorcan. It had rolled itself back up so she sat down on the couch to open it on the coffee table. As she unrolled one end of it, at first she didn’t know what she was seeing. It was a watercolor, quite beautifully drawn, of what looked to be a Japanese geisha, but indeed, her hair was blonde, her eyes blue—and the woman resembled her. There were a few marks beside the picture and when she opened the top she realized she was looking at a drawing of a man’s back.
“It’s a tattoo,” she said as she looked up at Daire and Lorcan. She couldn’t help wondering if this had something to do with why Graydon showed her the photos of the Japanese tattoos.
“Look at the rest of it,” Daire said as he held the bottom of the long, narrow paper.
At the top was Graydon’s face. He was smiling and looking over his shoulder at the artist. It was Garrett’s back that had a full-color tattoo of Toby as a blonde geisha.
“I remember,” Toby whispered.
That’s all she could think to say. She remembered all of it. Every second. Every word, every taste and smell, every person and thought.
“Marry,” she said, her voice weak with emotion. She looked up at Daire and Lorcan. “We got married. I think—”
She didn’t say any more as the blood seemed to be draining from her body.
Daire caught her as she fell forward in a faint. He turned her to stretch out on the couch, her head on a pillow. “Get Graydon,” he told Lorcan.
She didn’t hesitate in obeying, her long legs eating up the distance to the back door. When she shouted in Lanconian for Graydon to come, there was urgency in her voice.
Graydon was in the greenhouse, but at Lorcan’s call, he began to run. He ran past her, into the house, and through to the family room, where Toby was lying on the couch, Daire sitting beside her.
When he saw Graydon, Daire moved away and the prince took his place. “Call an ambulance,” he ordered.
“No,” Toby said weakly as she tried to open her eyes, but the truth was she was almost afraid to look at Graydon. Her mind was flooded with images. Her mother threatening Graydon—Garrett—and the way he’d stood up to her.
And the night! Hands and mouths, touching, caressing. Feeling him inside her! She remembered every bit of it.
Graydon had his hand on her forehead, as though feeling if she had a fever. “Toby,” he whispered, “it’s all right. It wasn’t really us.”
She didn’t know if that thought made her feel better or worse.
When Graydon lifted his shirt up, Daire and Lorcan left the room. They didn’t know what was going on, but obviously it was private.
Graydon turned his bare back to Toby. “Open your eyes and look at me. I’m Graydon, not Garrett, and you are Carpathia, not Tabitha.”
Slowly, Toby opened her eyes and saw Graydon’s bare back. Nothing but honey-colored skin over deep muscle. No markings of any kind.
Tentatively, she put her hand out and touched him. He drew in his breath, but he didn’t move. She ran her hand over his side, vividly remembering that the last time she’d touched him the tattoo was there. But she also remembered kissing his skin and how he’d turned, pulled her into his arms, and made love to her.
Abruptly, Toby sat up and wrapped her arms around Graydon, her cheek against his nude back. “It was wonderful there. I didn’t want to leave—and now I wish I didn’t remember that I’d been there.”
Her hands were on his stomach and he clasped them. He didn’t dare turn around, as he knew he’d pull her into his arms and lie down beside her on the couch. He’d so very much wanted her to remember what they’d experienced together, but now he realized that she was sharing his pain. It would have been better if she’d never remembered.
“You were trying to remind me, weren’t you?”
“Yes, but I shouldn’t have. Toby,” he said, and his voice was full of what he felt and was going to feel. “My life in this century is different and I can’t stay here.”
