Will hissed in a breath. “Darling, Freud only graduated from university six years ago or so. Mayhap seven.”
Erva winced then smiled around the group, further confusing everyone, except, it seemed, Meredith. She continued smiling up at Jake, making his stomach feel gloriously buoyant. Damn, he loved her. He truly loved her.
“I don’t care what kind of doctor he is,” Cat sneered. “Are ye a doctor in the English
Army
?”
Jake wondered if Cat would find fault in Will no matter what.
The on-and off-again tension of the small group of people around him had taken his attention for merely a few seconds. That’s all it took. He barely registered the muffled cry from Meredith’s direction. But he saw her arms waving about. Turning, Jake caught the thump-thump-thump of her little slippered feet sliding down the stairs to the street.
At first, it didn’t make sense, seeing Meredith in another man’s arms. But then he registered her terror. Her wild violet eyes turned into a fearsome storm as the man wrapped her tightly against him, holding her still with one arm around her chest and stomach. His other hand aimed a gun at her temple.
“
Y
ou’re
a quick one, aren’t you?”
The words were whispered into Meredith’s ear, and she felt that accompanying them was a spray of oil. She shuddered, realizing Bruisner had somehow captured her. Seconds ago, he’d taken her by the neck, making breathing impossible. She’d scratched at his coat, clawing her way to another breath. When he settled his arm across her chest, she was so thankful to breathe again, she almost didn’t think about her trapped arms under his snake-like one. But by then he’d pushed the barrel of a pistol against her head. Now, she was too afraid to inhale.
“Did you speak with Mr. Baker immediately upon your arrival here? Did you have the time to clean up beforehand? Did you wear this whorish dress? Did you give Mr. Baker any favors to ensure
his
toward you?”
With every word Bruisner whispered, he hissed into her ear, making her trembling amplify, fear peeling down her spine, as if it were skinning her bones of their veneer.
“Unhand her this instant,” Will shouted.
Meredith glanced up at the crowd of her...friends. Erva had already bounded down a couple steps toward her, Will holding her back, both their faces wrapped in concern and fear for her. Miss O’Neil held her hands over her mouth as if repressing a scream. And Jake, lovely Jake’s face warped into animalistic anger. He had his hand on his hip, but he hadn’t belted his sidepiece on before he’d talked to Miss O’Neil. And for that he seemed doubly frustrated, his brows drawn, the hollows of his cheeks looking even more so as his jaw jutted out.
As much as she feared for her life, as much as terror coursed through her, the sight of Jake helped her keep calm. She loved him. That was all that mattered. She’d made mistakes, and he didn’t fault her for them.
I see yer scars. And I see so much more,
he’d said as she had. Her mistakes were her emotional scars, she knew. But she was so much more than a thief and a liar. Somehow, she was a loyal friend and a woman who knew love. True love, where she didn’t have to fight or hustle to earn it. It just was. And it was perfect.
“I don’t have a job now, Meredith,” Bruisner susurrated in her ear, almost seeming another world away. “Thanks to you, Mr. Baker fired me.”
“I didn’t talk to Mr. Baker.” Her voice was surprisingly calm.
“I did,” Jake’s own composed voice boomed throughout the frozen moment, echoing across the road. “So take me instead.”
“Who the hell are you?” Bruisner screamed.
“That there is Sheriff Cameron,” another voice called out.
Bruisner shuffled his feet, carrying her slightly to turn and see another man in the street. He bore a gigantic walrus white mustache and an obvious silver star on his chest. He also happened to have the lightest blue eyes Meredith had ever seen. Like two glaciers, they seemed to reflect icy azure and bore down on the man at her back.
“Cameron?” Erva whispered.
“Oh my God,” Will said a bit louder, suddenly glancing up at Jake.
Bruisner laughed. “Why, Sheriff Henderson, how nice to see you. I’ve come to arrest this woman for you and take her away.”
“What’s her charge?” Henderson said gruffly.
“Isn’t it obvious? She’s a whore,” Bruisner spat.
Jake growled.
“No, she ain’t,” Henderson argued patiently, as if he were talking to a child. “Besides, even if she were, prostitution is legal in these parts. And you know it.”
Bruisner held her closer, smashing his body against hers. “It is prohibited for a woman of her caliber to whore herself, I’m sure. Maybe it’s not in any legal book, but women like her...shouldn’t do the things they do.”
That was when Meredith was certain Bruisner was pathological. And he held a gun to her head. God. Oh God. Help her.
“Like what, Bruisner? What did she do?” Henderson asked, again looking as though he was merely trying to parent an errant youngster. He took a small stride to the left, more in the middle of the street. Then, from the corner of Meredith’s eye, she saw Coyote in his human form. His face was just as severe as Jake’s, and he hurriedly walked closer to where everyone stood, carrying something.
Bruisner adjusted his hold of her, swaying her in front of him as he faced off against Sheriff Henderson. Moving had made it more difficult to see Jake.
Jake.
She had to see him. Craning her neck, she saw his tense face, the fury rolling through his eyes, transforming the gray into black storms.
“That ain’t no whore,” a woman’s voice rasped from the shadows of a nearby ally. Slowly, as if Meredith didn’t have a gun pointed at her head, a woman strolled into the frosty daylight.
“Damn it, Phyllis,” Sheriff Henderson swore. “Get the hell away from here.”
Phyllis, a very young woman, with hair that at one time might have been close to Erva’s blonde color and sheen, now was ratted and covered in grime, scowled at the sheriff. “What happened to you, Henderson? You look different.” Then her gaze ripped back to Bruisner. “I’m a whore,” she said the words exhaustedly, and Meredith thought it actually bruised her own heart. Shocking her, Phyllis said, “Since I’m the whore, why don’t you aim that gun at me?”
“No,” Meredith tried to shake her head, but abutted against said gun, she just jarred herself, wincing.
“Don’t talk to me, whore,” Bruisner spat.
“I’ll tell you why you don’t have that gun aimed at me,” Phyllis kept sauntering out into the street, making Sheriff Henderson’s eyes go wide and shuffle closer. Still, she marched on as if she didn’t have a care in the world. Maybe she didn’t. Phyllis said, “Bruisner, you do hate whores, don’t you?”
“Abomination against all that’s holy.”
He was shaking, trembling against Meredith. The pistol jostled against her head.
“That’s right.” Phyllis nodded, still moseying closer. “But you know what gets in your craw, Bruisner? You know what makes you see red?”
“Don’t come any closer.”
Phyllis finally did stop. Her cold blue gaze locked on the handgun for a moment, then she zeroed in on Bruisner with disdain. “Smart women. You hate a woman who may be smarter than you, don’t you? I’d bet this one you got the gun on is real smart, ain’t she?”
“And sass too. Hate a sassy woman.” Bruisner bellowed. “This woman had the gall to backtalk me. Me!”
“That ain’t right, is it?” Somehow Phyllis had created a vortex for Bruisner. He was relaxing, letting down his guard.
“Exactly!” Bruisner now spoke with more confidence and with a touch of warmth in his voice, as if he’d found a long lost friend. “Forgive me, but being a whore, I know your place.
You
know your place even. But Meredith—God!—she not only had the audacity to sass me, but she invented a shower machine, like the ones in Vienna, I’ve heard about. But the woman goes and devises one that’s affordable. A woman can’t conceive something like that. It’s an abomination against God.”
Phyllis’s dirt-covered face smiled suddenly. She was shockingly beautiful then. Even through the filth and coldness, Meredith saw that she was gorgeous. And strong.
“That’s right. I know my place. Right here. Now.”
Bruisner leaned a little closer to her, obviously confused.
“Now,” she said again.
Meredith was confused as well, and then saw Phyllis’s blue gaze flitter across the street to Jake. Somehow Phyllis had angled Bruisner so he was aligned with Jake. So she was no longer a human shield for Bruisner.
“Now, God damn it!” Phyllis screamed.
From her periphery, Meredith saw Coyote throw something at Jake.
Bang!
Meredith caved in, feeling the ricochet from the gunshot through her bones. Clutching her body, she tried to find where she’d been hit. That’s when she realized the gun at her head was gone. Bruisner’s grip loosened.
She whirled around and saw him stare down at his limp arm, complete bewilderment in his gaze. It was the first time she’d seen his face, and she prided herself for his two black eyes. Blood dripped down his hand. So bright red against the gray-brown frozen road where the pistol lay.
A silent gasp caught his lips as he gazed up at Meredith, accusation written in his quiet agony.
Who had shot him?
“...touch my woman ever again” —Jake appeared, walking like a blizzard of rage, his hat rolling behind him, yelling at Bruisner— “I’ll fucking kill you.”
“Kill him anyway,” Phyllis said, her voice resumed to callous cold.
Bruisner’s gaze shot in every direction, then down to Jake’s hand, where he gripped a smoking revolver. With his free hand, he grabbed at Bruisner’s neck, pulling him with a vicious yank as he plowed his head forward. After a loud crack, Bruisner fell to the ground from the head-butt, bleeding from his nose, his bruised eyes no longer open.
“You shot him?” Meredith’s voice was almost a mousy whisper.
Jake’s sneer transformed within a nanosecond. He rushed to her, cradling her in his arms.
“My sweetheart, my darlin’. Are ye all right?”
Meredith pushed away enough to gawk. “You shot him?”
“Fastest gun in the West, I’d wager. And the man even had time enough to aim. Damn.” Although Meredith couldn’t see over her shoulder, she knew Sheriff Henderson was behind her. Oddly, he now sounded more Swedish than before.
Jake didn’t say anything, but tucked the gun into his belt, his brows furrowed, his movements jerky. He swept an arm around Meredith.
“Did you know he was so fast?” Henderson asked.
Meredith, in a daze, glanced to whom the sheriff had asked. Coyote had come to stand close by, staring at her with intensity and maybe a tad...jealousy? She couldn’t help but notice the scowl on his face when he looked at Jake.
“You all right, Meredith?” Coyote whispered softly. He seemed to ignore Jake completely then.
She nodded, turning in Jake’s arms. She’d thought it had been Coyote who had shot that quickly, but it had been her Jake. Her wonderful cowboy, Jake.
Erva suddenly rushed forward, Will right behind her. It felt almost as good to have Erva holding her as it did Jake who actually never let her go. Erva had had to hug Jake too, but she didn’t think either minded.
“Seriously, are you okay?” Erva’s eyes glistened with unshed tears.
“Yes. I swear I’m fine, thanks to Phyllis and Jake’s quick shot.” Meredith glanced over to see Phyllis standing still, almost appearing frozen. A statue of herself.
“That was an amazing shot,” Will nodded, making Meredith glance back at her friends.
Coyote smiled down at her, but then straightened a tad more, and frowned at Henderson. “Asshole.”
Henderson smiled. “I knew you’d find me. But I thought the girls would first.”
Before her very eyes, he shifted into a handsome young blond man, towering with virility and dressed like a medieval Viking. She clutched at Jake’s arms, not sure what she’d just seen. He reciprocated by gripping her waist more, then forcing her behind him, all the while saying under his breath, “Son o’ a bitch.”
“
J
ake
,” Erva interrupted, sounding desperate.
He couldn’t hear much above the ringing in his ears. The roaring wasn’t from shooting his sidearm, but from seeing the light blue-eyed man once again. Rage infused his limbs, preparing to use the gun again if need be. “Ye son o’ a bitch.”
“Jake,” this time Will interjected. “I’m sorry, but—”
“You do see this, right?” Meredith asked. The brave women sidestepped around him as he tried to shield her from the man who had flung him into this time, terrified the blue-eyed man was here to take him away again, or worse, take Meredith away from him.
“Yes. Yes. That’s Odin. A shapeshifter and does the occasional prank, like Coyote,” Erva said, sounding a bit put out to explain.
Coyote, the god? Jake finally peeled his gaze away from the man calling himself Odin who had been Henderson. God damn it, why hadn’t he realized Henderson’s icy gaze looked so familiar? Well, because he was in a wholly different body. Jesus, this made his brain hurt. Further adding to the pain, Jake eyed the man, er, god, Coyote, the one who had thrown the pistol for him to shoot Bruisner in the elbow. It would be an excruciating wound, Jake knew, and the man might never regain the use of his arm, but he probably deserved far worse.
“Ouch.” Coyote shook his head and feathered his fingers over his heart, frowning at Erva. “I’m really trying to change my reputation. Can you call me something else please?”
Erva’s mouth was agape, looking as if she struggled to find the right words.
Coyote laughed, holding his belly. “Just messing with you. God, the face you made.”
“Play your shenanigans some other time!” Will yelled. He turned pointedly toward Jake. “Jake, is your last name Cameron?”
“Aye,” Jake said tersely, then resumed his glare at the morphed Henderson/Odin, trying to tuck Meredith away from the troublemaker.
“Jacob Cameron, brother to Duncan MacKay?” Erva asked quietly.
Like a dam breaking, something in his chest snapped. It might have been audible, since he thought he caught Will staring where his heart resided. Lord, how did they know his older, half brother? Breaking free from his scowl at Odin, he glanced at Erva and Will, so serious. “How—how do you ken that name?” His voice was a throaty whisper.
“Jacob Cameron who fought against Cromwell in the Lord’s year of 1651?” Will’s voice had gone soft, sympathetic.
Another shattering feeling and perhaps noise too came from within his ribs. How did they know?
Meredith turned within his grasp. Stubborn woman was in front of him, staring at him, clutching at his chest, searching his face for answers. Her dark brows furrowed, but her violet eyes shone out a light lavender. So lovely.
How he wished at that moment he didn’t have to answer, too fearful she’d think him insane or too...well, too old.
He gritted his teeth then relented. “Aye, I fought against the New Order Army and lost my brother, Douglas, to the war.”
“Oh my God.” Meredith gripped harder.
He held her a bit tighter, so scared she’d run from him. But she stayed transfixed. She stayed.
Erva whipped out a small white rectangular box with a black top that suddenly lit with a painting of a castle. “I have to call the muses,” she said. “They are going to freak out that we found him.” She immediately held the device to her ear, wheeling from the crowd.
Muses? What the hell was she doing with the odd glass-looking box?
Then he replayed her words. He was found? As in someone knew he’d been lost?
“What do ye mean?” Jake’s voice cracked under emotional strain. “Someone was searchin’ for me?”
Will clapped him on the shoulder. “Duncan has been searching for you for months. Your brothers—”
Jake pulled away from Will. No, this was too much. “My brothers are long dead. Two hundred years they’ve been dead.”
Cracking through his incense, Meredith reached up, gently cupping Jake’s cheek. “Sweetheart, I’m not from this time either.” Her whisper was honeyed, and his heart raced even more with every word she uttered. “I’m sure if Will says your brothers are searching for you, they are.”
He gave a labored breath, something close to a choked cry. “Ye’re not from this time either?”
“No, I’m not. But I’m so glad I’m here to have met you. And I love it when you aren’t covering up your accent. It’s so” —she glanced over her shoulder at Will and Coyote, probably assessing her audience— “I love your brogue.”
“Aye?” He smiled down at her then beamed at Will. “‘Tis true? My brothers aren’t dead? They search for me?” But then he remembered Odin. “No thanks to that son o’ a bitch.”
The changed sheriff shrugged. “I told those girls, the muses, I’d be better at this matchmaking thing than they are. Look at the two of you.” He gestured at both Jake and Meredith. “You’re perfect for each other, aren’t you?”
Jake looked down at Meredith—so lovely with the frozen moment, the air so cold it glistened with hanging ice crystals the soft colors of blue, pink, and violet, making even the sky surreal, fantastical, and fitting, seeing as how Meredith, his Fury, was in his arms. “All of this was so I could meet you?”
Glancing at Erva talking animatedly into the phone, Meredith bit her bottom lip that Jake loved so much. It was lush in the middle, but her mouth ended in sharp lines, so similar to what he’d always envisioned a fae to have.
Pain shot through her wee face. “Unfortunately, yes, I think all of this was so you could meet me.” She tried to smile up at Jake.
He furrowed his brows, unable to stand the way she kept shooting herself in the foot. “Unfortunately?” His voice was a tad louder than he’d meant, but, Lord, how it grated on him whenever she’d ruin a perfectly lovely moment with her incrimination. “Woman, when are ye goin’ to understand I’d do it all over to meet ye? To have this time with ye? I’d have the smallpox, get shot in the heart, and live a year of bitter loneliness again. I’d do it thousands of times over for the chance to be with ye.”
Tears reddened her purple eyes, but she spoke through the standing moisture. “I’m still embarrassed of the mistakes I’ve made.” She glanced at Erva, now off the phone and looking at her with a wide teary smile herself. Then Meredith looked up at him again. “I might always be embarrassed. But without making them, I never would have met you. I’m thankful I learned such humbling lessons to have gotten here. With you. Although I will do everything in my power to never hurt another person again so long as I live, I’d do anything for you, Jake. I’d have your smallpox, I’d get shot in the heart, and I
have
lived many years of bitter loneliness. I’d do it all for you. All my mistakes led me to you...so worth it.” Her voice shook and a tear fell from her wide orb.
“Told you. They’re perfect for each other,” Henderson, er, Odin said, plastering the romantic moment with his own boasts. “Now, where are those muses, so I can rub it in their adorable little noses?”
“Adorable little noses?” said a feminine and unmistakable Greek voice.
“Is that a compliment? I’m not sure,” another Greek-accented voice said from the hotel’s porch.
Suddenly coming to life was the couple hidden under the golden parasol. Moseying down the hotel’s porch’s steps, they held hands. They weren’t at all a man and woman, but rather two tall females, nearly identical in looks—both with dark auburn wavy hair, both with turquoise-colored eyes, and creamy complexions, but one dressed like a cowboy and the other dressed similarly to Erva and Meredith in the finest of golden silks. The woman who dressed like a man, twirled the other, and they laughed like loons. Again.
Meredith stepped closer into Jake, wrapping an arm around his waist and holding him tight. He held her around her shoulders, letting her burrow into his body for protection. And that was when Jake noticed everyone—save the people, er, whatever they were, around him—were still. As if stayed by an invisible hand, all other townsfolk were frozen mid-step, horses halted in progress, and the frozen crystals in the air truly were suspended the way they were. It was beautiful but bizarre.
“Such a good matchmaker, huh?” The cowboy muse asked in an obvious fake American drawl.
Jake worried he’d sounded as bad as the muse.
“Yee-haw, I love the West.” The dress-wearing muse giggled as she kept pirouetting through the sparkling gray scene.
“It’s not exactly one of my favorite times,” Coyote said, his voice as hard as steel.
The still dancing muse stopped and glanced at him, her face pensive. She bit a lip. Surprising Jake, she instantly cried while looking at Coyote. “Sometimes I hate being the muse of history. I hate seeing so many people suffer. Over and over again.”
The cowboy muse rushed to the other. Jake knew of the muses, and the once dancing, now crying one must have been Clio. Her sister—whichever muse she was, Jake had no clue—cradled her close. Then it seemed Coyote wanted to comfort the muse too, but he only took a few stumbling steps forward, one arm slightly reaching out.
“But you’re so good at being the muse for historians, dear one.” The cowboy muse said.
Clio smiled ruefully right at Coyote. “But I hate seeing the very worst in humanity—genocide, holocausts, slavery—I hate it.”
Finally, Coyote moved closer to the twin-like muses. “You see the very best in humanity too, don’t you?” He took tentative steps even nearer. “Not only that, but every time we see the worst in them, they come back and make everything better. The balance of life, the balance of humanity always swings toward happiness, joy, and even peace. It might be momentary, but in that instant it’s more glorious than anything we’ve ever encountered. And for that, we stay. We watch our humans, humbled by their tenacity for hope.”
Jake felt his throat tighten at the poetic sentiments. Glancing down, Meredith had a tear streak down her cheek. He wiped it away, savoring the warmth, the passion in that moisture. He’d like to think that he and Meredith were the best of their humanity, that meeting, becoming a unit made them better for it. She grinned up at him then, as if to answer him in the positive for his philosophical thoughts.
“Damn it,” Clio swore. “I hate how I can’t stay mad at you.” She glared at Coyote.
The god grinned and took a step closer, but the muse held her palms out. “I may not be angry any more, but I’m still hurt.”
“I swear nothing happened between us,” the cowboy muse said, taking off her hat, warily gazing at her sister and Coyote.
So there was some sort of melodrama betwixt the gods too?
Meredith sucked in a breath.
He glanced down. She must have felt his gaze on her, for she peered up at him. “The woman disguised as a cowboy...that’s Erato,” she whispered. “She seems really sweet, but don’t ever piss her off.”
About to ask what she meant, Jake was interrupted by Erato herself.
“Hello, Meredith, how are you?”
“I tried calling you. Got your voicemail.” Erva said nervously and seemed to crowd Jake, as if she were trying to protect her friend from the muses.
Both the muses glanced from Erva to Meredith.
“Got it all sorted out?” Erato asked.
Erva nodded. “We’ve become good friends. So don’t you dare try to take her to a different time.”
The dress-wearing muse arched a red brow. “So defensive, Erva.”
“Well, I never asked for Meredith to be sent here. I never would have put her through this. I think you went too far.”
“Darling,” Will said, but he wasn’t trying to shut her down. He held her hand, seeming to show his support.
“Went too far? I think we did this perfectly, wouldn’t you say so, Meredith?” Erato smiled at her, but then pointedly looked at Jake.
“Hey, now, this was all my doing,” Odin stepped closer, possessively putting a hand out toward Jake, who might have growled at him for it. No matter how much he loved Meredith, was elated to have her in his life, being thrown around in time was something he would always resent.
Odin shifted further from Jake, then glanced again at the muses. “Don’t you dare take credit for this.”
“Oh, right. This was all your doing.” The dress-wearing muse smiled over at Jake, and finally stepped closer, extending her hand. “I’m Clio, Jake. And I am so sorry Odin got you shot. We try very hard not to get our glimpse-ees shot.”
“Do you now?” Erva asked incensed, rubbing her right shoulder.
Apparently, he wasn’t the only time traveler who had gotten injured while zipping through different eras.
Jake though did shake the hand offered, Clio giggling something about a strong grip.
“I’m Erato, as your adorable little Meredith told you.” The cowboy muse said.
“Wait! Wait!” Odin all but shrieked. “Are you telling me you had this whole thing engineered? Even my part in this matchmaking?”
Erato sidled up to the blond man, er—shite, Jake didn’t know if he could wrap his head around any of this.
She looped an arm around the Norse god’s shoulders, which made him list nearer her. “Of course not, Odie. Like you said, you are the matchmaker here.” Only, her tone was too saccharine and veered into the lying territory.