Page 1 of Borrowed Time

1

INTO THE FIRE

Seth McAllister

Flagstaff, 1884

If he hadn’t been holdingDeborah’s limp form in his arms, Seth might have taken a step back.

Jeremiah Wilcox?

How was that even possible? As far as Seth could recall, the dreaded Wilcoxprimushad died years and years ago. Not, he had to admit, that he’d been paying much attention to those sorts of things when he was only a schoolboy. But there had been hushed murmurs that the Wilcox clan now had a new leader, Jeremiah’s son Jacob.

And yet this man appeared young and hale and hearty — or at least, in the prime of life, probably about ten years older than Seth, which was crazy…wasn’t it?

But then he looked past Jeremiah to the house on whose front porch he stood, which seemed almost brand-new, the paint fresh and no real sign of wear on the porch steps, even though the home had been built in a style popular nearly fifty years earlier.

And there had been that horse-drawn carriage….

None of that mattered right now, though. He would have to deal with the unpleasant ramifications of his current reality later, once he knew Deborah was out of danger.

“Can you help?” he blurted. Yes, some part of him knew that asking for assistance from the cruel warlock who stood a few feet away was probably an exercise in futility, but he didn’t know what else to do.

Jeremiah Wilcox didn’t even blink. “I personally? No,” he said, and Seth’s heart sank. However, the other man continued smoothly, “But my sister Emma is a healer, and she lives next door. Go inside and lay your friend down on the settee in the front parlor while I go fetch my sister.”

The relief that flooded Seth’s entire body was so intense, for a second or two, it felt as if he couldn’t quite get his shaky limbs to obey him. But then he managed to nod, and hurried up the porch steps even as Jeremiah stepped out of the way and headed down them, presumably so he could go to his sister Emma’s house and bring her back.

Immediately to Seth’s right was a handsome room that overlooked the street, with tall windows and ceilings, and shining furniture he knew must have been very expensive, even if it would have been somewhat out of date in the world where he’d grown up.

Whenhe’d grown up, he corrected himself. He still had no idea how any of this had happened, but something about the connection he and Deborah had made when she pressed her lips against his in that final, despairing kiss had been powerful enough to hurl them across both time and space, landing them in Flagstaff during the years when Jeremiah Wilcox was still head of his clan.

Had Jeremiah been able to detect that he was a McAllister, lost behind enemy lines?

Very gently, Seth laid Deborah down on the settee. It had fancy dark green upholstery, possibly silk, and almost at once became smeared with blood. But Jeremiah had told him to put Deborah there, so it didn’t seem as if he was too concerned about the fate of his settee.

Well, if what Seth had heard about the Wilcoxprimuswas true, it wasn’t as though the man couldn’t afford to buy another one — or ten, if the mood struck him.

Deborah let out the faintest rattling gasp as he placed her on the cushions. The sound was terrible, true, but at least it told him she was still alive.

She had to be. She had to survive this.

A rustle of silk skirts made him turn around. Jeremiah and a woman — equally black-haired and black-eyed, although her skin was strikingly pale — who must have been his sister Emma stood at the entrance to the parlor, although she hesitated for only a second or two before she hurried to Deborah’s side and laid a hand on her forehead.

“She has lost a great deal of blood,” the woman said, and Jeremiah frowned.

“Can you save her?”

“I believe so,” Emma replied, and again, relief so intense it wanted to weaken him passed through Seth’s body. “You two need to leave me to work, though.”

Jeremiah inclined his head. “Of course,” he said, and turned his attention to Seth. “Come with me.”

Although Seth would much rather have remained at Deborah’s side, he understood that every healer had their own way of doing things, and it was never a good idea to interfere. “Sure,” he said, and followed the older man out of the parlor and down the hallway, where they headed into a room that was clearly his office, with a big mahogany desk dominating the space and shelves of the same wood taking up one wall. Here, thecolor scheme appeared to be more wine color than green, but the furnishings had the same air of obvious luxury as those in the front parlor.

Jeremiah went to a small table near the bookcase, where a crystal decanter and several glasses waited. He picked up one and poured some caramel-colored liquid into it, then handed it to Seth.

“It looks as if you could use this.”

Instinct made Seth take the glass, although once he had his fingers wrapped around it, he couldn’t help giving its contents a dubious look. “What is it?”

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