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“I’ve loved you long before we ever met,” he continued, “and I’ll go on loving you even after the world stops spinning and the stars burn out. Everything I’ve ever done has been because I’ve always wanted you above all else. You were the dream I never dared hope for. You’ve always been in my heart, and you always will be. If you believe nothing else, please believe that.”
Myriad expressions flitted across her face, almost too fast for him to catch, but when she launched herself into his arms, Liam knew she believed him, and his heart felt near to bursting with gratitude.
“I love you, too,” Cora said, squeaking when he hugged her too tight, their mingled laughter a sound he wanted to burn into his memory so he could remember it for later when he was gone. The idea sobered Liam enough to grip her arms and lean back to see her face. She was smiling, and for a moment, he wavered. He didn’t want to tell her the rest, because he didn’t want to kill the sheer happiness reflected in her eyes. If only he could live here forever with her, just like this.
“Tell me your story, Liam,” Cora said, squeezing his hands. “And know that, no matter what, I’m here for you.”
He swallowed and withdrew his hands from hers, because it was too hard to think when they were connected like that, and maybe he was also trying to distance himself for the rejection that would undoubtedly come when she heard the truth. “Cora... Do you believe in reincarnation?”
Her delicate brows rose, and then she surprised him by saying, “Before I met you, I never gave it much thought. But now... Maybe?”
“What makes you say that?” he asked as an ember of hope flared inside him.
“Nuh-uh,” she said playfully, shaking her head. “Tell me your story first. I’ve been waiting too long for this to get sidetracked.”
“All right.” He took a deep breath and let it out in a whoosh. “I’m not from here. I’m from a tiny village in Ireland called Kinsley. I don’t even think it exists anymore.”
She cocked her head. “Why wouldn’t it?”
“Because...” He glanced nervously at her. “It was 1844 when last I was there. I looked it up. It isn’t on any maps I’ve seen, so I think it was absorbed by neighboring counties.”
Cora blinked. Humor faded to confusion, and Liam felt his stomach drop. This was it. The moment where she pinned him as a lunatic. “What do you mean, you were there last in 1844?” There was a strange look on her face he couldn’t decipher.
With nothing left to do but forge ahead, Liam continued. “We knew each other in another life. I was a worthless thief, a peasant with no prospects, and you were a squire’s daughter engaged to another man. But I climbed through your window one night with the intent to rob you, and against all odds, we became friends. Eventually we became more than friends.”
Cora looked thunderstruck, but she surprised him by whispering, “Go on.” Why wasn’t she freaking out yet? Was she humoring him?
He lowered his head, unable to look at her when he admitted, “You were destined to marry your fiancé, but I altered the course of your fate. We were never supposed to fall in love, but we did, and it led to nothing but disaster.”
She tilted her head. “What kind of disaster?”
Liam stared at her like she’d gone away with the fairies. “Are you not hearing what I’m saying, woman? I’m your reincarnated lover from another life.”
She nodded. “I heard you.”
He waited a few beats, but she remained unruffled. “Why aren’t you calling the nearest insane asylum to have me committed?”
“Well, for one thing, we don’t have those anymore,” she said with a shrug. “And for another, the reincarnation thing makes an unusual kind of sense to me. I’ve been having strange dreams of us, too. In each dream, we’re wearing old-fashioned clothes and sitting against a stone wall in a field, or walking under the stars at night, or traipsing through the forest. They’ve grown more vivid, and sometimes they feel so real. Your story has more detail, but—”
“Cora, I’m not telling you about a made-up story,” he said carefully. “I’m telling you about an actual life I once lived with you in it. We tried to run away together, but it all went wrong. It was raining that night, and you fell from your horse and...” Liam’s throat closed up, but he forced the words out, anyway. “You died in my arms.”
“What happened to you afterward?” There was the hint of a tremor in her voice, as if she could somehow feel the dread of the aftermath, even though she hadn’t lived through it.
Reflexively, Liam laid a hand on his throat, allowing himself to remember those darkest moments for the first time in over a hundred and seventy years.
17
Kinsley, Ireland, 1844
IT WAS THE rain that finally convinced Liam to rise shakily to his feet, gripping his beloved Cora in his arms like a small child. Her delicate face was as pure and beautiful as the day they’d met, but the bloom in her cheeks had disappeared over the hours he’d rocked her, begging her to come back to him. Raindrops splashed against her skin, marring her perfect face, the icy rivulets drenching her hair and clothes, plastering her golden curls to her skull and weighing down the heavy wool cloak she was wearing. It had to be uncomfortable for her, especially on a night like this. It just wouldn’t do. She deserved better than to be kept in the freezing cold, and he suddenly berated himself for not trying to warm her up sooner.
“I’ve got you,macushla,” he murmured, stumbling over the muddy forest floor as he gripped her body against his chest. “I’ll take you back home, where they’ll—” Liam choked on the burning sensation in his throat. “They’ll take good care of you.” Somewhere in the back of his mind he recognized that her soul had flown, but the logic of it couldn’t put a dent in his need to protect her and care for her. The horror of what had happened was hovering at the edge of his thoughts, as if his mind was shielding him from a pain too overwhelming to handle.
He carried her for hours, or years, or centuries. The passage of time meant nothing because he was frozen inside, trapped in the single-minded task of putting one foot in front of the other, moving closer and closer to Cora’s salvation. He told himself if he could just get her home to where she was safe, then she’d be okay. It was a fool’s lie, but he was both a fool and a liar, so he let it fuel his resolve until, finally, he stood in front of the squire’s house with Cora in his arms.
Liam kicked the door with his boot, the harsh sound of it resonating through his frozen limbs like a gong portending doom. “We’re here now,” he whispered. “I’ve brought you home. Everything will—”
The door flew open, and Cora’s father, the elderly squire, stood on the threshold with a candle in his hand. “What is the meaning of this?” With a gasp, he dropped the candle and reached for his daughter. “Cora!”
