Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

Rylie followed the aroma of ham, eggs, and fresh baked cinnamon rolls through the abbey's main corridor, her stomach grumbling. Craignamore never smelled this good so early in the day. Breakfast at home tended to be cold cereal or leftovers from the previous night's dinner. Of course her castle didn't house three dragon shifters who more than likely had hearty appetites. They also apparently made for good cooks as Dragoncross had no permanent staff according to Zerek's earlier remarks.

A rumble rose from the floor.

"Good morning, DC."

A marble tile, approximately three feet ahead from where she stood, shot up, flipped and returned to its spot in the floor.

"Like the new nickname, do you?"

The tile performed an encore.

Being around a living, breathing house with attitude was a far cry from what Rylie had been accustomed to living at Craignamore. But Dragoncross, decked out in all its Gothic splendor from its tall arches to its myriad of mythical creatures carved from stone, was a sight to behold. And it apparently knew it.

She reached out and glided her hand over the nearest column.

The abbey sighed.

"You truly are an architectural gem. I doubt anyone could ever get bored taking in all the stunning parts of you." Every nook and cranny had at least one interesting feature to marvel at.

A crack splintered the air.

Following the path of the sudden noise, Rylie glanced at the wall to her right only to find a growing fracture severing the stone panel.

A vine poked through the opening. Followed by a fully bloomed bouquet of violet-blue harebells, not one of them squashed. The flowers bent Rylie's way.

"For me?"

The abbey shook.

"Why, thank you." She leaned over and gathered the touching gift.

If only Craignamore could thrive in the same way. But broken hearts were not easily mended. She'd witnessed that fact firsthand in her father's suffering after her mother died. And while Zerek hoped going back to Culloden would help Craignamore heal, Catriona and Magnus would never get their happily ever after. The centuries of mourning their lost love would remain even if she and Zerek managed to ease it some.

A pang of sadness gripped Rylie's heart.

She stared at the harebells. How many bouquets had Catriona missed out on? How many had Magnus picked only to leave at the woman's grave rather than at her bedside table? The thoughts unsettled her.

A distinctively male laugh carrying into the hall shifted Rylie's attention.

Zerek.

Her gaze flew to the open double doors just past the unicorn tapestry.

The relaxed tone coming from the lighthearted conversation in the room stood in complete contrast to the reality that Zerek was about to go tumbling through the great unknown. How the man remained calm at a time like this, Rylie hadn't a clue. Then again, being a dragon shifter who'd lived since the days of the Roman Empire, Zerek probably had faced a shitload of circumstances far more dangerous than merely traveling through time.

His fearlessness amazed her.

With bouquet in hand, Rylie turned and stepped into the dining room. She hoped Zerek's shirt didn't look too out of place on her being that it was considerably larger than her blouse. But she felt close to him wearing it and was happy to refuse his offer to mend her blouse with magic.

Val, Duncan and Zerek all stood as she approached the table, one looking more gallant than the other.

"Good morning," Valentine said, pulling out a chair for her.

As she sat, Zerek walked over and reached for the flowers. "I'll put those in water."

"Thanks."

At the other end of the room, Duncan held up two glass pitchers of juice. "Orange or apple?"

"Apple, thank you." If this is what one got as payment for traveling back in time, then she was up for a daily trip.

Settling in, she unfolded a linen napkin across her lap. A gold-trimmed plate piled high with eggs, bacon, and an assortment of berries and sliced melon waited in front of her. A side dish bearing two frosted cinnamon buns also came her way, via a little push from Zerek.

And they say chivalry is dead. It was almost as if she'd fallen into one of those romantic novels Tar was forever reading.

"Guys, while I truly do appreciate this sumptuous breakfast, there's no way I'm going to be able to chuck it all down."

"You'll need your strength for later." The protective dragon in Zerek hadn't backed down from last night.

"That, and we three were not as adept at cooking back in the eighteenth century." A sheepish look crossed Duncan's face. "We tended to feed our dragon-side more than our human self. You might not get as much to eat until you return."

At least the men of Dragoncross weren't ones to sugar-coat things.

"Noted." She lifted a forkful of food into her mouth.

"Did you sleep well?" Zerek asked.

She nodded, swallowing. "That bed is divine. If I had the same at home, I'd never get out of it."

A wicked smile crossed Zerek's mouth. "I can verra well arrange that, lass."

She bet he could, the wicked beast. "No doubt you'd come with it."

He leaned close. "Only because I wouldna want you to be lonely."

As if she could ever escape the man's presence. He'd even invaded her home, her cradle of safety, the one place she should have been secure from all outsiders. But Zerek had been there all along, the shell of his dragon-side playing sentinel in Craignamore's back gardens for years.

And she loved the fact.

God, but she was so falling in love. And with Zerek MacKenzie of all men! To say life had its moments of surprises was an understatement.

And while she enjoyed getting lost to the romantic notion of it all, she did have questions about their upcoming trip. "I've been thinking about the time-travel and I'm afraid I don't have a spare fichu or corset or whatever the hell else women wore in the eighteenth century. What will I do about clothes? Will there be a pile of period appropriate garments waiting on the other end of time?"

"No," Zerek said. "We'll dress properly before we leave. You'll have to wear several layers extra to compensate for the time we'll be there as we'll only have what we travel with."

"Wait. Are you saying you have a wardrobe of eighteenth-century clothes at the ready?"

"Aye."

"We've lived here for centuries." Valentine made it sound like that was a normal thing. "Over the years we've had visitors and even a few very distant relatives come to stay for prolonged periods. Various items, on occasion, did get left behind. We kept them."

Dragons were said to be hoarders, at least that's what fiction stated. But this was reality, her new world. And those damn facts were not settling in her head as fast as she needed them to. "When do we leave?"

"Tonight," Zerek said. "We'll need time to get properly dressed and sort out a plan. It's imperative we don't disturb anything to the point it will alter the future."

She hoped they got it all right. "I'll also need a few moments to phone my sisters before we leave as I can't just go off without giving them some sort of explanation."

Zerek scooped up the last bits of scrambled eggs from his plate. "Settle up whatever you need to put in order. But your sisters cannot know the whole truth. Just tell them you'll be sending a few days with me as I'm helping you with options for renovating Craignamore."

"Got it." She hated keeping secrets from Tar and Addy but her life and Zerek's, as well as the entire world they lived in, depended on them holding back the full truth. One small slip and who knew what they'd return to.

After spending a few hours devising a plan for their trip through time, Zerek paced the library, his thoughts focused squarely on the Draco Slab. He had his sword, the original one he'd used back in the seventeen-forties, and he had on his kilt, just like he was wearing the day of the battle. He even had the quartz eagle ready to go, the small object propped on the desk next to the slab itself. All he needed now as Rylie.

He prayed everything went well because he couldn't imagine his world without the brazen slayer. Nor could Balon.

"Oh, my…"

He spun around at the sound of Rylie's voice, his breath catching the moment he laid eyes on her.

"You should wear a kilt more often, Zerek."

"For you, maybe I will."

The sight of Rye in a corseted gown that highlighted her small waist and pushed up her ample breasts made him wish he'd met her centuries ago. "You look beautiful."

"Oh, stop." She blushed, a rosy tint coloring her cheeks.

"I'm serious."

"Really? Because I'm not sure I'm cut out for this style of dress." She adjusted the corseted top of the gown, the vibrant floral pattern accentuating her alabaster skin. "It's way too restricting."

Nothing was restrictive for a dragon. Nor for a near immortal who'd lived long enough to know how to work centuries of styles of clothing. Not that he was about reveal his past to Rylie. Not if he cared to keep his head and the rest of him from suffering anymore attacks from that damn slingshot of hers. "If I had my way, despite how gorgeous you look in that gown, I'd have you out of it and back in my bed in no time. But arriving in seventeen-forty-six wearing modern-day jeans and five-inch heels will almost certainly get you accused of witchcraft."

"If I were a witch, I'd make this thing more comfortable."

He laughed. Leave it to Rylie to joke while facing the most dangerous days of her life, yet. "Did you get a chance to read over the notes Duncan left for you?"

"I did," Rylie said, still fussing with her gown. "We're hoping to arrive by carriage at Craignamore where I will present myself as a distant relative of Magnus St. George and you'll then take said carriage to a dragon stronghold near Culloden House to confront Dabraxas over the missing sigils. Once they're secure, you'll return to Craignamore where we will attempt to get the dying Catriona to Magnus before it's too late."

Even he hadn't been that accurate or that calm the first time he'd gone back to ancient Rome. "You have it right. Did you speak to your sisters?"

"Yes. They're enjoying their time with Bane. He's flying them to New Orleans today, on his private jet mind you, to visit his brother-in-law, Mortimer and the man's new wife, Katya. Bane's sister died ages ago. Tar and Addy absolutely adore Katya. We visited them often when we lived in New York."

Other than Duncan and Valentine, he hadn't had family over to Dragoncross in decades. And even then, they were only very distant relatives who'd come to visit. His last trip home was far from a happy reunion. His father hadn't changed a bit. He remained the ruthless beast he was thousands of years ago. If he never saw the man again, he'd be lucky. "I think we're ready, Rylie."

He took a deep breath, the faint trace of fresh cut rose filling his core. Having found his soulmate made everything he was about to do more dangerous as fucking up even one little step could rip Rylie away from him forever.

Dragon scales drummed through his veins.

"Calm, Balon. We'll do our best to make this right. We won't let Rylie slip from our grasp."

A low grumble vibrated through the room.

Great, now the abbey had something to say as well. "It's all good, mate."

"He doesn't want a fist bump, Zerek."

"I did not fist bump Dragoncross."

"What you said was equivalent to one." Rylie rolled her eyes and headed over to one of the floor-to-ceiling windows, her gown swashing in her wake. Reaching out, she glided her fingers over the window's wood frame. "Don't fret, DC. I'll be back in no time." She kissed the glass pane, her breath leaving a little oval of dew.

"You will never cease to amaze me, lass."

She gestured with her hands as if her nurturing ways were nothing to make a fuss over.

He disagreed but knew better than to argue with Rylie.

"This place just needs a little feminine touch," she said, approaching the desk. "DC might have been home to dragons for however long you've been here, but he deserves a bit of care."

The abbey trembled.

Duncan and Val were never going to forgive him for bringing Rylie to Dragoncross. The abbey was never going to be the same again. "I believe I have just been overthrown as laird of the manor."

Rylie smirked. She crossed the room and gave him a soulful stare. "You'll always be my laird."

He hoped so.

"How many times have you gone back to Culloden?"

"Just once. But it's better we don't discuss it as we don't want time to blend that trip with this one."

"Oh. I hadn't thought about that, but it makes sense."

Thank goodness Rylie was trusting, as he really did not want to reveal to her that he'd gone back with her mother and that things did not work as planned. A fact which led him to keeping the quartz eagle rather than returning it to Craignamore. He couldn't take the chance that Rylie's father, as a slayer, would travel back with Isla. No one but a member of his unit of the Roman calvary knew the full mechanics of the Draco Slab. He couldn't chance that Isla and her husband wouldn't be harmed if they'd use it on their own.

"I'm to put my hands, here, correct?" Rylie leaned over the desk and placed her palms on the edges of the Draco Slab.

"Yes. Perfect."

Zerek picked up the quartz eagle and paused. The moment the amulet returned to the slab, there was no going back. He and Rylie were either off to do good or die. "Ready?"

Rylie nodded.

Zerek lowered the eagle.

The floor beneath him fell away, the walls vanished, and the air grew heavy.

Time now controlled his fate, and Rylie's.