Page 52 of Crown of Tides and Fury

Considering the look on his wife’s face, Wickham nearly turned around and went back into the trees. But he’d already faced his nemesis that day. Surely, he could handle a scowl from the woman he loved. Though, whether or not she loved him seemed to be on the table at the moment.

“What’s wrong?”

His eldest, Alexander, rolled his eyes and physically turned away from him, got to his feet, and ran off toward the shallow waves, shedding his shirt along the way. J.W., the middle child, looked up at him from his smashed sandcastle with one eye shut tight.

“Ye did it again,” the laddie said.

Wickham looked to Ivy. “Did what?”

She bit her lips together and closed her eyes as if praying for patience.

“Come on, then, J.W. What’ve I done?”

“Ye stepped into the trees and came straight out again, but with yer clothes changed.”

Wickham glanced at his kilt, gobsmacked that he’d forgotten to remove it. As usual, he had a hard time remembering what he’d been wearing when he’d last stepped into those trees and out ofTimeandPlace. Obviously, his lads were too old to be fooled now—Alexander nearly 11, J.W. 8, and Gavin 7.

And if they were too old to be fooled, Ivy was miles ahead by far.

“Ivy,” he began, but she waved him off, stood, and headed for the large round bungalow they’d been vacationing in…for much longer than his family realized. He followed her, dutifully, gathering his excuses as he went.

After he entered, she closed the door behind him and pointed to the parlor area, with two chairs and a variety of bean bags and pillows. He nodded toward the back of the wee house instead.

“I don’t want a shower, Wickham. Or a cuddle. You won’t be distracting me this time, do you understand?” She pushed past him to take the chair against the wall, then pointed to the empty rug just past her feet. “I don’t want more lies. Don’t give me excuses. I know the Grandfather is dead now, so you can’t use him as an excuse. And before you even open your mouth, I want to know that you’re not going to touch my memory. Just nod your head, cross your heart, whatever. If you touch my memories again, ever, we’re finished. Understand?”

He nodded, carefully.

“And you promise never to touch them again?”

He crossed his heart with two fingers.

“All right. Let’s have it.”

There was no popping out of it. It was time to pay the piper. “What is it ye think has happened?”

She wagged her head. “Oh, no. I won’t help you cheat. If you tell me what’s going on, it should explain everything I’m thinking. If you try to make something up, it won’t.” She shook her head quickly then. “I can’t believe, after all we’ve been through, that you would keep secrets from me now.” Her brows rose and she leaned forward. “I mean it, Wickham. Tell me everything, or…or I want a divorce.”

For the tiniest moment, a millisecond only, he wondered if granting her a divorce might somehow keep her safer. But even if it were only for show, he’d never consider it. He and Ivy belonged together, no matter what.

He considered stepping out of time, only for a moment or two, to gather his thoughts, but she was watching closely, on tenterhooks, expecting him to misstep.

“Whatever it takes, love.” He grimaced. “Just remember, curiosity killed the cat.”

She leaned back and folded her arms. “Go ahead. Kill the cat.”

“May I sit?”

“I. Don’t. Care.”

Obviously, she wasn’t referring to his comfort.

He dragged the other chair closer, but left a good seven feet between them, just in case. Ivy wasn’t prone to violence, but he’d pushed her further than she knew.

“I’ll start with the vacation, aye?” He chewed his lip, then gave up. He wouldn’t fool her now. After forgetting to change out of his kilt, he wasn’t feeling particularly clever. “I brought ye here so we could get out of the cold, forget about the ranch for a wee bit.”

“I know. I believed you. I agreed. I was even happy about it.”

“Aye, grand, grand. It has been warm, and—”

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