It would have only one or two burls on it by the time he presented it to Winter, and she and it would grow old together once he placed it in her hands. He would train them both, and as Winter’s power increased with knowledge, the staff would twist with burls and strengthen. It was the way things worked in his wizard’s world.

Daar ran his hand along the smooth surface of newly exposed wood. He couldn’t believe his warrior had had the audacity, or the foresight, to throw his staff into the pond. Grey knew the danger Daar’s cane presented. He had seen its energy firsthand. Yes, Greylen MacKeage had known, when he’d held the remaining piece of that still humming wood in his hand, that he was holding the power to send him and his men back to their natural time.

And when he had banished it to the depths of that high mountain pond, Greylen had quite deliberately given up any chance that such a thing would ever happen.

Grey didn’t bother to knock. He silently let himself into Grace’s kitchen, kicking off his boots and setting his jacket and Mary’s tin of ashes on the kitchen table. The house was eerily silent except for the occasional snap of a log on the fire in the living room and the faint sound of a sniffle every so often coming from the same room.

He walked sock-footed into the living room, and his heart fell down to his knees.

Grace was sitting cross-legged on the couch, a box of tissues beside her, another box’s worth of used tissues balled up and thrown on the floor in front of the hearth. He watched as she sniffled, blew her nose, and threw another tissue at the fire. She was in so much pain, and for the life of him he didn’t know how to help her.

She’d given up the child of her heart today. She had united a son with his father because it had been the right thing to do, and now she was paying the price.

Grey admired her strength. And he hurt for her now.

“Grace,” he said softly, moving to stand in front of her.

She turned wide eyes to him, a gasp catching in her throat. Her face was freckled with pink blotches, and her swollen, red-rimmed eyes were devoid of life. He wanted to hold her in his arms and squeeze the pain right out of her.

She got down on her knees and started gathering the evidence of her grief, tossing all the balls of wet tissue into the fire.

Grey let her get used to the fact that he was there. He walked out to the attached shed and filled his arms with wood, then brought it inside and dumped it in the box by the hearth. He made two more trips before it was full, stopping the last time in the doorway to watch Grace silently.

She had come into the kitchen and put the kettle on to boil on the range, but he noticed she forgot to turn on the burner. He didn’t correct her. He went back into the living room and dropped his load in the woodbox, then used the poker to resettle the logs on the fire.

Grey walked back into the kitchen and stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame. Grace was now sitting at the table, staring at the cookie tin in her hands as she fingered the dents on it.

“Do you know why Michael moved to Pine Creek last year?” she asked, not looking up.

“I hadn’t given it much thought,” he told her honestly.

“Because he needed to be near the only other people on earth who knew what he’d been through four years ago.”

She looked up then, and Grey’s breath caught in his throat at the sad and understanding look she gave him.

“It didn’t matter if you were enemies or not. You and Callum and Morgan and Ian were all he had left.”

So she now knew what he’d sworn never to tell her. She understood that Michael wasn’t insane, because she was in love with a man from another time.

She probably couldn’t comprehend what she had seen today, no more than any of them could. But she was smart enough to put things together, to realize that he lived in a castle and carried a sword for a reason.

This beautiful, intelligent, twenty-first-century woman knew he was ancient. And she had said, just before she’d given away the child of her heart, that she loved him.

“And so you gave MacBain his son so he wouldn’t be alone anymore,” he said.

“Yes,” she said softly. “I kept my promise to Mary because my own selfishness was not an excuse to keep Baby.” She ran her thumbs along the rim of the cookie tin as she stared sightlessly at it. “It wasn’t my decision to make. It never was. Baby’s mother wanted him with his father, and I have to respect that.”

“Tell me how to fix it, Grace,” he said, coming to crouch beside her. “Tell me how to help you now.”

“Tell me you love me,” Grace answered softly.

“Dammit, woman. I love you!” Grey stood and swept her into his arms, clutching her to his chest as he walked back to the living room. He sat down on the couch in front of the fire, settling Grace on his lap.

She looked at him while she thought about that, then laughed out loud as she swiped away more tears.

“Of course I knew that,” she said, waving his declaration away with her hand. She rolled her eyes. “I’d have to be an idiot not to. You’ve all but shouted it at me all week.”

“When?” he snapped, disgruntled that she was so highly amused.

“Oh, let’s see,” she said, her tear-swollen face awash with a disarming smile. She held up one finger. “I believe your actions said so when you came back and pulled me out of the snow cave after the plane crash.”

“I didn’t love you then. I didn’t even know you.”

“Two,” she said, ignoring his protest and holding up a second finger. “You stripped me naked and crawled into bed with me at Daar’s cabin.” She gave him a mischievous grin. “You had to love me then.”

“That was lust.”

“Three,” she said, holding up another finger. “You had no intention of leaving the summit house until we made love the other day.”

“That was lust, too.”

She gave him a narrow-eyed glare.

“Continue,” he said, squeezing her again. “When else did I say I loved you?”

She had to think for a minute, and that irked. He was just about to shake an answer out of her when she held up her fourth and fifth fingers and smiled sadly.

“Today. Twice. When you attacked Father Daar, worried that he was the real threat. Although I think he was trying to save me, not get me blown…blown someplace.”

Grey wasn’t ready to go there yet. “And when else?” he asked, giving her a more gentle squeeze.

She looked at him, her deep blue eyes rimmed with unshed tears again. “When you stood silently behind me and let me give Baby to Michael.”

He smothered her against his chest so she couldn’t see the moisture threatening to cloud his own vision.

“I’m sorry for your hurt,” he whispered into her hair. “I’d take it away if I could.”

“I know,” she said into his shirt, hugging him back.

He held her in silence for almost an hour, watching the fire consume the logs in the hearth. If he could only hold her long enough, he could lift some of the pain from her shoulders. He wanted to share it with her. He wanted to share everything with her for the rest of their lives.

The fire finally waned to a glowing bed of red coals. Grey tilted Grace’s chin so he could see her face. A warm, sleepy-eyed, endearing smile greeted his gaze. She stretched against him and lifted her mouth to his, giving him a gentle kiss on the lips.

The fire that had been banked inside his own body suddenly roared to life. Lord, he wanted her madly.

And Grey knew that when he was ninety, he would still want her with a fierceness that would astound him. He resettled her in his arms to kiss her back more easily—just as gently, just as endearingly—

brushing his fingers through her hair as he stroked his hand over her hip.

“I want to feel you inside me again,” she said as she looked up at him with eyes bright with desire. “Now.