Unbound (19 page)

“Tell
me, Rachel.”

I
cleared my throat. “He made me touch him...his chest, I mean. His skin was
really cold. When he touched me back it felt as if I were being entombed in
ice.” My eyes still closed, I continued. “I thought maybe I was dying...but
there was no pain.” Until I woke up, I thought dully, remembering the agony in
my head that was now simply a normal-sized headache.

“Anything
else?” Eaden’s voice was thick with strain. I was glad I couldn’t see him.

“I
don’t think so – everything went black after that.”

The
only sound was of the tires whizzing over the asphalt at a speed I preferred
not to think about. Finally, I opened my eyes. “How did you find me tonight?”

“The
way I always do. You’re like a lodestone – I can simply tell where you
are.”

“How
does it work? Being
Mafte’ach
, I
mean. I’ve touched you before and you touched me...and nothing like that has
ever happened.” Unbidden, an image of Eaden and myself entwined flashed like
fireworks in my brain. Could he have killed me then? I shivered.

           
“It’s
not just the physical contact. That’s important, but there needs to be
intention, too. The connection between
Mafte’ach
and immortal is more than just physical. The
Mafte’ach
is like a photographic negative of an immortal –
our senses, our genetic structures are attuned. When an immortal is ready to
die, they must intend to end their life, and that intention is communicated
through our cells. That’s why the
Mafte’ach
dies too. The intention is translated.”

“Why
were you late tonight?” I heard the plaintive note in my voice and wanted to
snatch the words back.
 

He
flinched as if the question had physically cut him. His hands gripped the
steering wheel tighter. “There was a message from the stables, something about
an accident, but I wasn’t able to reach anyone by phone.”

“Are
Gus and Lilly okay?” The idea of anyone hurting them in order to keep Eaden
away from me was too much to think about.
 

“They’re
both fine. There was no accident. When I realized, I knew something was very
wrong, but I was too far away.”
 
He
sounded pained. “You’d already left for the day.” One hand strayed from the
wheel and touched my hair. “I’m so sorry I put you in danger,
mo cridhe
. It won’t happen again.” There
was no denying the gruff conviction in his tone. Or the self-reproach.

“Eaden,
it’s –”

 
“It is not okay. I was nearly too late.
When I saw him...” – he broke off in disgust. “I didn’t understand. I
thought you had fainted.”

“That
would be a fair assumption,” I said. I tried to smile.

He
shook his head in frustration. “No! I should have known. You have no idea how I
felt when I saw him standing over you.” He spat the words out from between
clenched teeth.

“You
fought,” I said, remembering the chaos I’d woken up to. Looking at his face, I
realized that his bruise had almost disappeared entirely.

“I
wanted to kill him.”
 

“Did
you hurt him badly?” A part of me wanted to hope that Sabas was incapacitated,
that he would never bother us again.
 

Eaden
looked unsettled. “Not badly enough. I’ve given us some time, not as much I’d
like.”

Trying
to be brave, I asked the question I’d been avoiding. “Where are we going?”

 
“I need help, Rachel, and I can’t leave
you alone. We need to disappear.”

“What
does that mean?”

 
“He knows where you live, where you work,
what you do.” His mouth twisted. “Until I understand what happened, you can’t
go back.”

“I
see.” Heedless of the speed at which we were driving, I stared out the side
window. “Can I tell anyone that I’m leaving? Lacey? My mother? Jane?”

He
was resolved. “No. The fewer the people who know, the better.”

“Will
he hurt them?” My voice was becoming smaller and smaller. The silence was
almost unbearable. When he spoke, his voice held all the doubt I feared it
would.

“I
don’t know. I don’t think so, but it would be dishonest of me to say I know for
certain.” He sighed. “What I do know is that you’re not safe here anymore, and
the best plan I have is to understand what’s happened and why.” He glared at
the road as if it were an enemy he could fight. “I will do everything in my
power to fix this, Rachel. No one will harm you while I’m here to watch over
you. I’ll do my best to protect your friends and family, too. You’ve placed
your trust in me before...Can you...Will you do so again?”

He
glanced at me, reached over to gently wipe away the tears that were running
down my cheeks. Would I ever stop crying tonight? Leaning back against the
headrest, I closed my eyes. My answer was easy. He was the safest thing I knew.
I nodded.

His
relief was almost tangible. “Thank you.”

The
silence lapped at me like small waves and I felt my eyes begin to droop
heavily. I was almost too tired to care, but I asked anyway. “Where are you
taking me?”

His
voice was as soft as a caress. “Scotland,
mo
cridhe
, I’m taking you home.”

Eaden
roused me with a gentle nudge in the early dawn light. Squinting, I stretched
and then groaned as my body reminded me of the need to be gentle.
 
Peering out of the car window, I tried
to make sense of the landscape, surrounded as we were by acres of farmland,
nothing but paved asphalt ahead and behind to interrupt the tall rows of corn
undulating in the orange, streaked light of the morning.

Stumbling
out of the car awkwardly, I didn’t protest in the least when Eaden lifted me up
and carried me across the black tarmac, half-asleep, to where a sleek-looking
jet shimmered in the haze of first light. Setting me down gently at the bottom
of the landing stairs, he supported me from behind as we boarded the plane.

A
petite flight attendant with strawberry-blonde hair and a highland accent
grinned enthusiastically and introduced herself as Sarah before discreetly
returning to finish her pre-flight preparations.
 
Trying not to look awed, I kept my
expression carefully neutral as I checked out the cabin. It wasn’t ostentatious
in an obvious way, but it was far more luxurious than any hotel room I’d ever
slept in. Settling into one of the supple leather seats, I admired the sleek
mahogany table in front of us where Sarah had placed a selection of high-end
magazines and a bowl of bright green apples. Running my fingertips lightly over
the soft armrest, I looked up to find Eaden studying me, clearly watching for
my reaction.

“So,
is this your plane?” I asked with all the casualness I could muster.

His
small smile was disarming. “Do you like it?”

“It’s
okay, I guess.” I shrugged. “It’s not the Concorde.”
   

Eaden
smiled. “There wasn’t enough time. I have to give 24 hours’ notice to book the
Concorde.” I really wasn’t sure he was joking.

My
stomach fluttered nervously as the “Fasten Seatbelt” sign came on and Sarah
approached us, still beaming. “We’ll be taking off in a few minutes. Can I get
either of you anything before we’re on our way?”
Her
voice lilted over the words, making them sound like a child’s rhyme.

“Water,
please.” It seemed my nervous system had finally caught on to the idea that I
was about to fly across the Atlantic, and was preparing to mutiny. On high alert
now that I was fully awake, my stomach did a few somersaults in preparation for
what was to come.

Eaden
leaned over to whisper in my ear. “You’re looking a little green. Are you
okay?”

Taking
a deep breath and closing my eyes, I shook my head. “I’m not such a good
flier.”

When
I was nine years old, my parents and I had flown to Scotland to visit my
grandparents. In honour of my inaugural flight, my father had generously given
up the window seat he loved. He’d actually managed to capture on film each stage
of my progression from enthusiasm to advanced air sickness. On the flight home,
heavily medicated, I’d at least managed to enjoy the sunset before passing out
cold for the next seven hours. That was the first and last time I’d been on a
plane.

“May
I?” I heard Eaden unbuckle his seat belt.

Assuming
he was going to calm me, I nodded weakly. I didn’t think that barfing with
composure would really be an improvement, but I was willing to give it a try.

So
I was puzzled when instead he crouched in front of me and placed his fingers
behind my ears. With firm, consistent pressure he pushed his finger tips into
my skin, moving them around my hairline to the back of my neck and then back to
my ears. The sensation was odd at first, even slightly uncomfortable, but after
a few moments, it began to feel like the most magnificent massage. When he
stopped, I opened my eyes to find him inches away from me.

“Feeling
better?”

Strangely,
I realized that I was – my nausea had lessened considerably. Instead of
answering, I planted a kiss on his lips, smiling gratefully, which he
acknowledged with a kiss of his own that ended only when Sarah returned with my
water and let us know that we were about to begin take off. By the time the
plane began to inch forward, Eaden was back his seat and had fastened his
seatbelt.

My
queasiness now under control, all I had to contend with were my fears of the
plane performing a fiery death spiral and splintering into millions of pieces
upon impact. Piece of cake.
 

“You’re
perfectly safe,” he said, once again annoyingly accurate at reading my
expression. He reached over and grasped my hand, giving it a squeeze.

“Easy
for you to say,” I whispered. “You’re immortal. If we crash, you’ll survive.”

“That
is true,” he said. “But if I survive, so do you.” He tilted his head and
regarded me seriously. “While I live and breathe, Rachel, I’ll not let any harm
come to you.” Meant to be reassuring, his gaze was so intense that my breath
caught in my throat. “Besides,” he said, switching to a lighter tone, “we’re
not going to crash. Airplanes are much safer than –”

“Cars,”
I interrupted him. “Yes, I know, that’s why driving scares the crap out of me,
too.” My heart seemed to be accelerating in sync with the momentum of the plane
as it moved down the runway, gathering speed before it left the ground.

He
raised an eyebrow. “Maybe all you need is a bit of distraction.”

“What
do you have in mind?” I asked carefully. Even after all we had been through in
the last 24 hours, I felt my cheeks grow hot under his gaze.

He
glanced conspiratorially at me and then over to Sarah, who sat strapped into
her jump seat, studiously minding her own business. “Well, there is something
I’ve always wanted to do, but I’ve never quite had the opportunity.” His voice
was low and intimate, inviting.

Lost
for words, I scrambled to figure out what to say. A few nights ago I had
practically thrown myself at him, and he wanted to have sex here? Now? On a
plane? The idea itself was a logistical nightmare, given that I was too panicked
to reliably stand upright, but I also didn’t want to feed into his old-fashioned
ideas about abstinence either.

Groping
for the right way to express my enthusiasm for the spirit of his suggestion, I
fumbled. “Um, well, I’m not exactly sure...” I began and then stopped, my eyes
squinting in suspicion. The corners of his mouth were twitching in a way I was
becoming familiar with. He was joking. Of course, he was joking.

“You’re
a jerk,” I said under my breath.

He
broke into a grin and kissed my hand affectionately. “It worked, didn’t it?
We’re up.”

Glancing
out the window, I saw he was right; there was nothing but sky underneath the wings
of the plane. Still, it wasn’t fair to tease me so often given that it wasn’t
my idea to wait. I scowled.

Eaden
settled on a more apologetic tone. “I’m sorry I gave you the wrong impression,
but my question was quite sincere.” He reached under the dark wood table and
pulled out an ornately carved wooden box with both hands. “There is something
I’ve really wanted to share with you.”

Opening
the hinged lid, he proudly displayed the contents. Nestled inside the box were
intricately carved chess pieces, crafted so that although each piece was
identifiable, no two were exactly alike. It was if each one had its own
distinct personality – like actors in a play.

“They’re
beautiful,” I breathed, lightly touching the black and white carvings. He
smiled with pleasure at my approval.

“What
are they made of?”

“Ebony
and ivory,” he said. “But a very long time ago, before they were
overharvested.” If Eaden could ever be said to be wistful, he seemed so now.

“Did
you carve them?” I reached out and picked up the white queen, each point of her
crown discrete.

He
shook his head. “They were made by an old friend,” he said, looking at the pieces
fondly. This touched me, more than I thought it might. It seemed important to
know that he felt connected to others. To know that there were things that held
value for him because they represented people he cared about. Everything I knew
about Eaden was based on our time together, alone. I didn’t have a frame of
reference for his relationship with anyone but me.
 

He
gestured towards the pieces. “Will you play with me, Rachel? I’ve felt bad
about asking Sarah to be my opponent. She has to let me win because I’m her
boss.” He stage whispered the last sentence and smiled at her as she worked
near the front of the plane.

Sarah
shook her head. “Don’t let him fool you, Rachel. There are not many who are his
match at that game.”

Setting
the queen down, I grinned. “It’s been a very long time since I’ve played. But
I’d love to. Will you teach me the rules again?”

“With
pleasure.” Moving over to the seat across from me, he began to set up the sixteen
pieces on the board. “Thank you,” he said softly, not looking at me.

“For
what?”

“For
being here ... for trusting me.”

“Where
else would I be?” Despite being on a plane, heading away from everything and
everyone I cared for, I knew that given the choice, I wouldn’t change a thing.
Well, except for the part about my life being in danger. I would change that if
I could. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you win.”

His
laugh was genuine. “I’m counting on it,” he said.

*
         
*
         
*
         
*
         
*

He
did win, of course, several times in a row. But by the last game I was
beginning to get a feel for the importance of each piece and understand some of
the strategy involved in playing. Eaden struck a balance between coaching and
letting me discover the nuances of the game through trial and error. And I was
grateful he hadn’t let me win, respecting me enough to understand my pride
could tolerate the loss as I learned how to play the game.

“Who
taught you to play?” I asked as he packed the pieces away with care and stored
them under the table.
 

His
mouth twisted a little and I could tell he would have preferred not to answer
my question. But he had promised to be more forthcoming and so – being
Eaden – he was. “My mother.” He learned forward in his chair and looked
down at his hands. “My parents played often and my mother was quite good. She
taught us all to play when we were just children.”

“Was
it unusual for women to play chess...back then?” Stumbling over my lack of
knowledge of the
Dal Riata
, I tried
to imagine what a woman may have been restricted by – lack of education,
early childbirth, the hard physical labour of domestic work.

“It
would have been unusual for a Celtic woman to play, but my mother was of Roman descent
and very well-educated. Her father had believed that she would go on to marry a
nobleman and it was important she’d be a valuable addition to her husband’s
family.” He looked up with a half smile. “My father wasn’t exactly what he had
in mind.”

“He
wasn’t considered successful enough?”

“He
did well in his business, but to the Romans, the Scots were little more than heathens.
They considered us uncivilized and uncultured.” He snorted. “Despite everything
he’d accomplished, my father never managed to shake the reputation he’d
inherited from his own father.”

“The
rogue?”

He
chuckled. “That was a nice way of saying cattle thief.”

“How
did your parents meet, if they were so different?”

“The
old-fashioned way,” he said. “She was a damsel in distress.” He reached for my
hand across the table, playing with my fingers. He seemed to be preparing for
something. “Against her father’s wishes, she was out riding one day when her
horse stumbled and broke its leg. My father happened to be riding by at the
right time and as the story goes...they fell in love.”

His
eyes were distant. “Despite all the differences and everyone’s objections, they
married and had children.”

“There
were four of you, right?” I asked, proud that I remembered. “Rebecca and Fiona,
you and Fraser.” Eaden’s family. So strange to think of all these people he was
once so closely connected to. That I would never meet.

“Five,
actually.”

“Oh,”
I said, saddened, although I realized how common this probably was at the time.
“Did your mother lose a child?”

He
cleared his throat. “Twins,” he said. “A boy and a girl. Only Fraser survived.
My mother and the baby girl died.”

The
hair on my neck prickled, but I ignored it, concentrating on the pain behind
his words. I squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry. That must have been very hard.”
Knowing how much Jacob’s death had affected my own family, it wasn’t difficult
to imagine how devastating the loss of a child and a parent would be.

He
nodded vaguely. “I suppose it was. My sisters, young as they were, took over
much of my mother’s responsibilities in the household, and my father... he was
never exactly the same man after she died.”