CHAPTER NINETEEN #3
It was hard to grasp the fact that Royce was dead. Worse, she was convinced she had caused his death a second time. If she hadn’t gone back in time to save him, none of this would have happened, would it? And he would have lived another six hundred years.
Her heart shrieked at her in protest. Her heart would never believe him dead. Her heart would wait for him forever.
She was deeply depressed, grief-stricken.
She had even considered going back to Ruari in the sixth century, but what if she caused his death then, too?
It had become time to be sensible. He was dead, for there was no other explanation for his absence.
She would mourn forever—but her place wasn’t the fifteenth century.
Of course it wasn’t. Her place was the twenty-first century.
Her father and her brother, Alec, had to be sick with fear over her disappearance.
But Allie just stood there, unable to move forward, staring at the glass doors of the entrance to her apartment building.
Aidan touched her elbow. He had insisted on taking her home.
“Maybe I should wait a moment,” he said.
“To make certain ye find yer family well.”
“You don’t have to wait,” Allie said hoarsely. She suddenly turned and wrapped her arms around him in a bear hug, clutching the velvet dress Royce had given her in her arms. “If Royce comes back, you’ll come for me?” And then she realized what she’d said. She needed a miracle, desperately.
His blue eyes flickered oddly. “O’ course.”
Allie turned away. He had been grieving, too. She’d caught him weeping when he thought he was alone. He didn’t think Royce was ever coming back to them.
Wiping her eyes, she marched up to the front door. She tried to smile at the doorman and failed. “Hi, Freddie.”
He barred her way. “Hello.” He was a flirt and he smiled at her. “Who are you here to see?”
Allie was bewildered. “Are you joking?” She started to go past him; he took her arm.
“Lady.” His tone changed. “No one goes up unannounced. Who are you here to see?”
She gaped at him while he stared firmly at her. “Have I changed so much?” she finally asked. “This is where I live.”
Instantly she saw a wary look in his eyes—a look she was very familiar with, being a New Yorker. He thought her nuts. “If you won’t tell me who you wish to see, I can’t let you in. You have to be buzzed up.”
This was insane. What was wrong with him? “I’m really tired and this isn’t funny.” Freddie never joked. “I live here.”
“Unless you’re a new tenant, you don’t live here. And there are no new tenants—there haven’t been in years.”
He didn’t know her. “Buzz William Monroe—or Alec,” she cried. She looked past him at Aidan, who was listening closely, his eyes wide and alert. What is this? she asked him silently.
He shrugged.
“Are you kidding?” Freddie said incredulously.
Before Allie could argue, she saw her brother coming through the lobby toward the front doors. As sad as she was—and as bewildered—it was great to see him and her heart leapt. Freddie opened the doors and Allie rushed into his arms.
Alec’s eyes went wide, then he grinned at her with an odd, very male look. “Wow. Do we know each other?” His grin played.
Allie released him, shocked. She opened her mouth to blurt out that he was her brother. But he didn’t know her, either.
What was happening?
“Hey, don’t be insulted. Did we meet each other last night at Ciprianni’s?”
She inhaled. How could her own brother not know her? She glanced at Aidan, and he shook his head with a warning she did not understand.
“Hey, I’m sorry, I made a mistake,” she said.
“No, I’m the sorry one.” His seductive smile played. “How about a drink?”
“Another time,” Allie managed to say.
He shrugged and walked to the curb for a taxi.
Allie stared after him as Freddie rushed to hail a cab for him. If Alec didn’t know her, if she wasn’t Alec’s sister, what did that mean? What could it mean?
And Royce’s image came to her mind, flooding her senses with yearning.
And she heard Elasaid. Embrace your destiny, darling.
Freddie had returned to his post before the two doors.
“What happened to the Monroe Heiress?” Allie asked, trembling.
“I’m going to call the cops now,” he said. “Lady, you are cute as hell but you are nuts! There is no Monroe Heiress. Mr. Monroe has three sons.”
Allie gasped and had to sit down on his stool. “He has three sons?”
“You just met the oldest,” Freddie snapped. “Then there are the two boys.”
She reeled.
“His wife had the twins two years ago,” Freddie added. “Mr. Monroe is nuts about those little boys.”
Her father had remarried after all. But what about her, Allie Monroe? Who was she—and was William Monroe her father or not?
IN THE NEW YORK CITY Public Library, Allie found exactly what she was looking for.
William Monroe had married the socialite heiress Laurel Cady-Benton two years ago. The moment Allie saw the pretty blonde’s picture, she sensed that she was a kind, centered woman and perfect for her father. In their wedding photos, she and her father were clearly in love.
He had never been married to her mother, Elizabeth.
There had never been a Monroe Heiress.
Allie looked at Aidan, shocked. “This is not my time,” she said. “I have to go back.”