His legs, they were on fire now, and blooming into a pain beyond comprehension. Such pain, as if he were dissolving, a man carved of wax, melting to the ground.
Always, it came down to his accursed legs. With that thought, an alarm sounded. The witch said he must be a calm pool, and he tried desperately to blank his mind. But his thoughts kept returning to his legs.
His damned cane. He’d need his cane. But Will was already being sucked under. Immobilized now, but for a finger still moving over the paper, pure instinct driving his gestures.
Black seeped in at the edges of his vision, the world closing and tunneling until there was only the paper before him.
Light and sound screeched in his head. Blinding, numbing, deafening sensation. His head whirling, his body a raw nerve, unable to break free.
And then Will’s body slammed to the earth.
It took him a moment to realize the cool moss beneath his hands. To realize the stone cutting into his cheek.
Felicity. Where was she?
Had he traveled? Was she there?
Will raised his head, darting his eyes, making sense of his dim surroundings. Ghastly walls of leaves and berries rose all around. It was belladonna, bearing deadly Devil’s Cherries, their color the rich and repugnant purple of a vicious bruise.
The labyrinth. He was in the maze. It closed around him, like some malignant prison hemming him in. Keeping him from Felicity.
Felicity.
He must find her. One among millions, the witch had said. His mind blanked, all thought dumping from his brain but for the single image of Felicity. She was the only thing that existed, the only thing that mattered.
Frantic, Will scrambled forward. He scrambled on hands and knees, scrambled into a lope, and then into a run. He raced through the maze, his body careering off the soft and obscene give of the labyrinth walls. He moved like a drunken man, a possessed man. Frantic only to find Felicity.
He vaulted from the opening of the maze, and ran. Breath filled his lungs, the air suddenly fresher, clearer. His legs pulsed and his chest swelled, and he wondered at the strange sensations.
Will skidded to a halt. His legs.
He doubled over, hands on thighs, panting for breath.
His legs, they were straight and strong.
The maze had transformed him. A man whole once more. And all because of Felicity.
There was a strange sound from faraway, rising over the hill as surely as pipes on the eve of battle.
He sprang back into a run. Felicity had been right. They were destined to be together. Steely determination drove him hard, his arms and legs pumping.
He crested the hill to see a street winding at the base of the valley. And there were vehicles there, moving so fast along, so foreign and so unfathomable. He realized they must be the car that Felicity had told him about—a carriage of steel requiring no horse.
He grinned broadly, and a laugh erupted from deep in his soul. What a place of miracles this was.
Will bounded down the hill and stopped on the side of the road, panting and marveling. He thought he must look a crazed man.
A car slowed, then stopped beside him. Will knew he should be wary, but the open smile of its driver put him at his ease.
“Are you from the Renaissance Faire too?” the man asked.
Will leaned closer, trying to make sense of his accent. He shrugged his confusion.
A glass pane at the rear of the car rolled down. “Hey,” a woman said, leaning out. “Where’d you guys find those clothes? They’re awesome. So realistic.”
Will looked blankly. What to say? His Felicity, a lone candle among millions. He wondered if these people might be able to help. “Have you seen—”
“The woman in lavender?” she finished for him.
“The blonde,” the driver stated. “Are you missing a pretty blonde?”
“Aye.” Will tried to temper his sudden joy in front of these strangers. “I’m looking for that woman.”
“Hop in, dude.”
The door was barely closed behind him when the driver took off. Will barked out a laugh despite himself, to feel his body jolt so in space. It was exhilarating, this speeding carriage.
“Man, your friend was in some rough shape.” It was the person seated next to the driver who spoke.
“Is Felicity safe?” Will asked quickly, fear hardening his voice to steel.
“Easy, cowboy.” The driver chuckled. “She’s fine.”
“A little on the emotional side, though,” the woman said. Will had settled himself next to her, crushing himself as much as possible along the door so as not to press up against her so intimately. “Did you have a fight or something?”
“That explains it,” the driver said.
“Ohhhh,” another said, “now I get it.”
“She seemed pretty bummed out,” the woman added.
“Man,” the other chimed in, “I wouldn’t want to be you.”
“There she is.” The driver pointed to a figure walking along the side of the road. It was a woman, in a lavender gown, scrubbing at her face. “That’s your friend, right?”
“Good Lord, is she carrying a sword?”
“Watch out, dude, looks like she bought a claymore.”
“Out,” Will gritted. He jiggled the door handle. “I must get out.”
“Whoa.” The driver screeched to a halt. “You’ve gotta wait til I stop.”
Will spilled from the car. He shouted for her, ran to her. His Felicity. He couldn’t reach her soon enough.
She saw him, and momentary bewilderment flickered into joy.
He pumped his legs harder, elation swelling in his chest. His body slammed into hers, and he swept her up at once into an embrace. Will swung her around and around, laughing and kissing her all over.
“How . . . ?” She studied him, tears marking thin paths down her dirty cheeks. “And your legs,” she shouted, realizing suddenly.
“I couldn’t be without you,” he told her. His eyes consumed her, so lovely, so right, in her soiled and tattered dress. For the first time in his life, Will knew perfect joy. “And so I came to be with you. If you’ll have me.”
“Oh yes, Will.” She stood on her toes, whispering her words on his lips. “I’ll have you.”
Epilogue
The dew was cool on Felicity’s bare feet. The grass sounded a tiny squeak every time Will spun her before him. His hand was strong and sure at her waist, the other warm and enveloping hers.
Her heart filled to watch him, to watch his smile. These days, a smile lit Will’s features more often than not. He was so handsome in the moonlight, laughing low, twirling her, lifting her.
Her Viking loved to dance.
And they danced now under the stars. Their favorite thing, stealing this time alone together. The children asleep, their only music the rustle and squeak of dewy grass and the faraway bleat of their neighbor’s sheep.
They’d chosen to stay in Scotland, in Perthshire, in a country cottage on land that rolled gently to the banks of the River Tay. Duncrub Castle was only a memory now, but they still loved to sneak away when they could, for a quick tumble along their Roman road.
Felicity loved Scotland, where never before had she felt so truly, deeply at home. At first, she’d worried what Livia would think.
But that was before she’d realized her aunt had long harbored fantasies of finding herself some brawny, gray-bearded blacksmith. And though Livvie had yet to encounter just the right candidate, she seemed to be enjoying the hunt, making her way from isle to isle in the Hebrides.
She thought she heard something. Putting her hand on Will’s shoulder, she stilled him. They locked eyes. Speaking wasn’t necessary; he’d know what she was doing.
Their youngest was just shy of a year old, and Felicity was still getting used to the fact that she no longer needed to be on call all night, through the night.
They paused, and while she listened, Will kissed her. His mouth was warm and soft on her neck, her jaw, her ear. “Baby Olivia sleeps yet, love,” he whispered to her. He unbuttoned her sweater, roving his hand under her shirt. His skin was hot on her cool breast. “But I find myself feeling very awake at present,” Will murmured, nipping at her ear.
“I’m sorry I’m so nervous.” She tangled her fingers in his hair, and it was the only invitation he needed.
“Not too nervous,” Will told her, and he reached a hand around her back. Clutching her bottom, he pulled her closer to him.
He was hard for her, and she giggled, flush with pleasure. He seemed always ready for her.
“You’re perfect with them,” he said, referring to their three sleeping kids. “The greatest mother I could imagine.”
“Your mom didn’t exactly set a stellar example.”
“No indeed,” he said with a low laugh. His kisses stilled. He pulled from her, tracing her hair from her cheek, tucking it behind her ear. “I wonder what came of them.”
Felicity knew he referred to his parents. Though folk like the Campbells and MacDonalds lit the pages of history books like major constellations, there was not so much about Clan Rollo. They’d tried researching, but hadn’t been able to find much beyond dates of birth and death, and some of Will’s own exploits on the battlefield.
They’d found all kinds of stuff about Ewen Cameron, though. Some of the poems written for him had made Felicity roll her eyes. But mostly they made her smile with the memory of him. She was happy he’d lived a good, long life.
“Do you think Ewen did it?” she asked abruptly. “Went back and saved Robert, I mean?”
“Well,” he mused, “the labyrinth is certainly there, as we both well know.” Resting his elbows on her shoulders, he stretched his arms around her, hands clasped thoughtfully. “Aye, lass. If I know the laird Cameron, I think he’d have found a way to save his foster brother. The man did live til the age of ninety, so whatever he did, he managed to survive it.”
“And with well over a dozen kids too.” Felicity shook her head, exaggerated dismay on her face. “God, Lily . . . That poor woman.”