Into the Lure of Time, page 1
Table of Contents
Into the Lure of Time (Always and Forever, #2)
INTO THE LURE OF TIME
Dear Reader
Map | Prologue
PART ONE
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
PART TWO
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
PART THREE
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Irish Language Glossary
Cast of Irish Medieval Characters & Name Guide
Cast of English Medieval Characters
Thank you for reading!
Acknowledgements
About the Author
INTO THE LURE OF TIME
Always and Forever Trilogy, Book 2
Copyright © 2024 by Vera Bell
All Rights Reserved
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations in critical articles or reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is coincidental.
NO AI TRAINING: Without in any way limiting the author’s exclusive rights under copyright, any use of this publication to “train” generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies to generate text is expressly prohibited. The author reserves all rights to license uses of this work for generative AI training and development of machine learning language models.
Published by
TIMEBOUND PUBLISHING LLC
Georgia, USA
Cover Design by Vera Bell
Printing History
First Edition: Timebound Publishing / 2024
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
The Library of Congress has catalogued this edition as follows:
Names: Bell, Vera, author.
Title: Into the Lure of Time / Vera Bell.
Series: Always and Forever.
ISBN: 979-8-9896124-3-7
Author Website/Contact: VeraBellAuthor.com
Dear Reader
Welcome to the second book in the Always and Forever trilogy as the saga of Siena and Ryan’s past and present lives continues. As in Through the Veneer of Time, the medieval timeline in this sequel is anchored in the events preceding the English crown’s plantation of Ulster. It’s also rooted in the life of the legendary Irish hero and adversary of Elizabeth I, Shane O’Neill.
At the peak of his rule, he arrived at the English court with a guard of deadly gallowglasses and an elusive mission. While historians speculate about the purpose of Shane’s trip to London, many think it was to marry an English noblewoman or even the queen herself! We may never learn the truth, but we know Shane did not receive a warm welcome.
As you may recall, Aedan O’Neal, who is loosely based on Shane, is happily married to Neave. During my research, I wondered how she would react if this trip led to Aedan’s compulsory divorce and a politically arranged marriage. In the present time, I wanted to explore how the echoes of the past affect Siena and Ryan as their lives unravel in a chilling parallel.
While the central literary conflict in the first book is the heroine vs. the villain, this novel is a little different. The underlying theme here is an inquiry into the inner strife of a heroine against herself, as well as how a hero’s unendurable circumstances can turn him into a victim—or an antihero.
Lastly, while this book features the same cast of characters and falls under the genres of time travel romance and historical thriller, it also carries darker undertones of domestic suspense and psychosexual thriller.
I’m excited to have you back on this wild journey and look forward to seeing you again when the final book in the trilogy is released!
For bonus chapters, sneak peeks, and other exclusive content, join my mailing list at VeraBellAuthor.com. And if you enjoy this book, please consider posting a review on Amazon, Goodreads, or on your favorite retailer site. It would be a huge help!
Vera
For all the hot-headed, self-sabotaging people out there. You are not alone.
Map
Prologue
A plan gone wrong. A rash decision. A thoughtless act.
The past always and forever hovers near.
I never thought I could become my own perpetrator.
I never dreamed I would be my own victim.
I never expected to turn into a villain.
But every crime carries a punishment.
In this life, my name is Siena Forte Casey, and mine, I cannot bear.
PART ONE
Innate Delusion
Why am I going there now? Am I capable of that? Is that serious? It is not serious at all... It's simply a fantasy to amuse myself; a plaything! Yes, maybe it is a plaything.
– Fyodor Dostoevsky, “Crime and Punishment”
Chapter One
An Enticing Offer
Neave, November 20, 1563, Ulster, Ireland
“Six thousand pounds!” Aedan pursed his lips to halt a snort. “Six...” He held up a hand, which did nothing to curtail his growing merriment.
I hid my face in my cup at the burst of his catching laughter. Still, my unseemly giggle escaped into the council hall.
Aedan wiped at his eyes, breathing hard. “And Lady Neave...oh...you’ve a rival, from the looks of it!”
The giggle died away though I kept a smile pasted on my face.
“The English queen would play a matchmaker!” He slapped the calfskin parchment on his knee. It reeked of scheming and the detestable heavy perfume of roses on the verge of decay.
“She’ll have a suitable match for me upon my arrival. Enticing, indeed!”
I forced a wider smile. May the gods take a liking to the Tudor queen, and soon.
Aedan turned to his secretary. “Write, Bradan.”
The council hall fell silent.
“Your Grace’s keen notice of Ulster’s unrivaled prosperity under my rule warms my heart,” he dictated in his perfect English.
I twisted my Claddagh ring, my hands cold and stiff at the sound of it.
“Indeed, my towns are plentiful, trade—foreign and domestic—grows every day, and houses and schools increase steadily in number. So booming a place Ulster has become that scores of farmers flee the Pale to dwell here and tend my lands. Thus, I regret to inform your Grace, I am presently rather engaged at home, and on the account of my duties being first and foremost to Ulster, haven’t time to spare for faraway travels.”
He made a derisive noise in his throat.
“This is not to say I cannot be enticed when the timing is favorable—say, with a castle, such as Balgriffan. (Your Grace may remember it belonged to my late father, Earl I of Tyrone.) And while I thank your Grace for your generosity, my previous conditions remain: eight thousand pounds for the expense of my journey and a safe-conduct guarantee for my person, my guard, and my retinue, written in your Grace’s hand and sanctioned with the seals of Ireland and England.
“As to the moonlight raids in the Pale, it is with heavy heart I learn of their persistence.” He snorted, not even trying to suppress it this time. “But upon my word, your Grace, I shall work tirelessly to uncover the culprit. And should any of my subjects be discovered the miscreants, I will myself ensure that such persons are punished to the highest degree.”
Kian drained his cup and elbowed Fillan, who chuckled into his hand.
“I’d pay half my requested amount to look upon the Tudor bitch when she reads this.” Aedan switched to Irish, taking a large swig from his cup.
“Regarding your Grace’s most gallant concerns as to the matters of my matrimony, engaged as your Grace must be in your plentiful matters of state, my private affairs must have escaped notice. As such, I am glad to advise your Grace I am wed—” He winked at me. “And not seeking a new wife.
I shivered against a piercing chill, swayed at the precipice of an unfathomable abyss. A woman’s sharp, metallic laughter trilled in the mist—her self-satisfied glee of triumph, ringing beyond the confines of the council hall, foretelling of doom and ruin. Cold all over, I pressed my hands to my ears, but she only laughed harder.
“That said,” Aedan continued, “should my circumstances change, I will be certain to apprise your Grace outright. For who better to teach an Irish savage your Grace’s refined ways than a noble English lady? An enticing offer indeed.” He widened his eyes, eliciting a few knowing laughs. “Your most obedient servant, Prince of Ulster...”
The air was gone. All of it. An iron brace gripped my chest. I fought to draw a breath against it.
At the edge of my vision, the parchment flittered between Aedan’s fingers. His hand faded, then he receded from view, along with the map-covered table and the council hall—all of it falling into a bottomless void.
The woman’s laughter shuddered to a halt. Your wife’s bed is getting cold...
“Christ—” Aedan grabbed my arm. “My Neave, are you unwell?”
I hugged myself to thwart the plummeting darkness, thick and heavy.
Aedan shot to his feet. “This meeting is not yet adjourned.”
He carried me from the council hall, up the stairs, to our bedchamber. Unblinking, he laid me on the bed and placed his hand on the slight swell of my belly. “Is it the babe, a rún?”
“Give me...” I choked out, my voice hoarse and shaky. “Give me your word, a chroí... Swear to me you’ll not go to London. Never. Never, my Aedan.”
He pressed his lips to my forehead. “A fainting spell. I’ll send Betha to tend to you.”
I bolted upright. “I’m not ill!” My breath emerged in swift huffs, fluttering and hot. “Cease these...these billets-doux with the queen. Say you will, my Aedan.”
“Billets-doux!” He released a long sigh, the sides of his mouth dimpling with mirth. “By God, you had me worried, my Neave. I must return to the council hall. The lads will be waiting.”
Chapter Two
Problem Unsolved
Siena, May 26, 2011, Washington, D.C.
I removed my nursing bra and stood in front of the mirror, surveying my new curves. The last fifteen pounds clung to me despite my banishment of junk food and daily runs with the stroller. But Ryan loved my mommy body, and had his flight not been delayed twice, he’d have been home for at least two hours to appreciate it.
Yawning widely, I donned a slinky ivory negligee and headed to the bathroom to splash cold water on my face and brush my hair. Skin still damp, I stepped back into the silence of my bedroom. Through the narrow window, the waning crescent had reached its zenith and shone like a bright sickle above the earth. Its light filtered in and caressed the little white bassinet at the side of my bed.
My chest flooded with warmth. The most beautiful baby in the world slept in it, his dimpled arms resting alongside his sweet head, tight fists just touching chubby cheeks. Austin Patrick Casey was born almost four months ago with a shock of blond curls and a pair of cornflower-blue eyes. My mother-in-law, Peggy, had assured me his hair would eventually darken to Ryan’s dirty blond and eyes would turn either his hazel or my brown before his first birthday. But even platinum-blond and blue-eyed, Austin was the spitting image of his father.
I checked the clock, stifling a yawn—ten minutes until arrival, then half-an-hour drive from the airport. Austin’s incessant teething had made for a rough night, and I should have napped while he did, but I’d run out of time.
Suppressing another yawn, I sat on the bed and eyed my cool plump pillow. Only a quick nap.
I woke with a start—Austin wasn’t in his bassinet.
The room swayed. The walls rushed toward me.
Cold all over, I bolted to the door. Tripped on something.
The living room—empty. Guinness was gone, too. Heartbeat thundering in my ears, I dashed back to the bedroom, tripping again—over Ryan’s travel bag.
I grabbed my phone with a trembling hand. The screen lit up with four text messages and one missed call.
Just landed.
Austin ate all his baby cereal.
Walking Guinness.
Austin is with me.
The last message was sent at 6:44 AM. I stared at the clock: 7:18 AM. Holy crap. Guinness’ exuberant barking and Ryan’s hands pulling me in and traveling the length of my body weren’t a dream.
Breath slowing, I pressed a hand to my breasts and winced. They’d gone up at least a size and were hard as a rock. Austin had never slept through the night before.
Five minutes later, the excited German Shepherd burst in, followed by my husband with a baby carrier attached to his torso. An indignant, piercing voice punctuated tiny flailing arms and legs.
My heart melted at the sight. Everything I loved most in the world had walked through that door.
“I tried to keep him out, so you could sleep.” Ryan shrugged, a bit flustered. “But he needs you, Sie.”
I needed the baby, too. So while Ryan was taking him out of the carrier, I settled in the nursing chair at the foot of the bed—only to discover the absence of my nursing bra. I let the negligee fall to my waist as Ryan turned around with Austin in his arms.
“Holy shit.” He approached, eyes wide. “Can’t you give him something to tide him over?”
“It’s breakfast time.” I took the baby and brought one heavy breast to the hungry little mouth. “He wouldn’t want anything else, anyway.”
“Can’t say I blame him,” muttered my husband, planting himself on the bed to face me.
We sat in silence, Ryan watching me nurse and Austin stroking my face with his soft, little fingers as he suckled. I settled my foot on the edge between Ryan’s legs.
Before I could blink, he brought it to his mouth. “So hot—”
I snatched it away like it had caught on fire. “Seriously, you have a problem!”
Given some of our less than orthodox carryings-on, I considered myself open-minded. But a baby on my breast and anything sexual was like oil and water.
Ryan caught hold of my foot again and pressed it into his erection. “I do have a problem.”
Lips pursed, I moved the baby to the other side. “Half-way through.”
He leaned back and propped himself up on his elbows in the silence that fell, his steady gaze tracing the shape of my body.
Our eyes locked as Austin finished nursing.
“I’ll take care of him.” Ryan stood, his body rigid as a board. “Don’t move, love.”
I chewed on my lip as he changed Austin’s diaper and set him up with toys in the bassinet. This big, tough man—so heartbreakingly sweet and gentle with our tiny baby. It was almost indecent how quickly motherhood receded into the back of my consciousness.
Moments later, he emerged from the bathroom shirtless, wiping his hands on the sides of his jeans. Then, he was carrying me to our bed, the negligee slipping off and falling to the floor.
“God, I missed you,” he murmured into my hair, gathering me in amidst disarranged pillows, blanket, and coverlet. “We can just cuddle...if you need a break?”
I pulled him closer: light deodorant, a trace of laundry detergent, and him. His need was a hard and pressing thing, ricocheting into my every corner.
“You might break if we just cuddle,” I breathed.
Ryan’s problem solved, he kissed the top of my head and drew me into his arms. “When are you starting, love?”
I’d finished three of the four projects I’d committed to prior to learning about Ryan’s transfer to Dallas. All that remained was a three-wall mural at senator Connor Reat’s private residence, scheduled to start seven months ago. But he kept moving the date, which had worked out well with Austin’s birth. It was now bordering on absurd, however.
“The meeting is in three weeks.” I compressed my lips. “They sounded pretty firm.”
