A Time Apart: Book One of The Macauley Series Read online

  He wasn’t sure what prompted him to look into the woman’s background. Maybe it was because he had been missing Elizabeth’s presence in his life, or because whenever he was at the castle he naturally thought of Ceara, and that made him long for the warmth of a female presence in his life, but before he went back to pouring over further architectural plans, he Googled her name.

  If William had had a beating heart, what he saw reflected back to him on the computer screen would have stopped it instantly. As it was, he felt like he’d been flattened by a train.

  The woman, this Olivia Donnelly, was his Ceara made real.

  To be sure, a more modern version of his life’s true love, but Ceara she was with her untamed curls, vivid green eyes, and tall, voluptuous body. As sure as William had ever known anything, he instinctively knew that a close-up photo would reveal a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose, and one lone, stray freckle planted on her full, ripe bottom lip.

  Surely my eyes are playing tricks on me. I’m only seeing what I want to see.

  But why would he want this? This was torture.

  William became hell-bent on finding out more about Olivia and he spent the next several hours looking for some proof that while the initial resemblance between was striking, he would eventual see significant differences between her and his long dead wife. Unfortunately, nothing he found supported that hope.

  Photo after photo, website after website, the images he saw staring back at him were indeed Ceara – the same wistful smile, her gaze looking out into the sun while her right hand shielded her eyes, her long untamed fiery red curls held back from her face in a low ponytail, crystalline green eyes, a smattering of freckles along bared shoulders.

  Every inch of her that William could see took him back to an earlier time and place.

  While one part of him truly believed that Olivia Donnelly was in fact Ceara McBride, the saner, more logical part of his brain said that there was no way it could be true. The cogent, reasonable side of him knew that he had buried Ceara in 1658. He’d lived hundreds of years attempting to atone for the biggest sin he’d ever committed – killing the one person in the whole world who had ever meant anything to him; the one person who, while she had walked this green earth, had been the most good and true thing he had ever experienced.

  Being what he was – having lived through many different lifetimes since becoming a vampire – William found it difficult to discount other forms of immortality. He knew firsthand the need to take on new identities throughout a prolonged lifespan and how to easily become someone else when it was called for. While all signs pointed to Olivia being among the ageless, he simply could not accept that was the case for the woman looking back out at him from his computer screen. Besides the fact that it was he who had killed beloved Ceara, further research quickly revealed the woman’s life was not that of an immortal – he couldn’t find any evidence of her throughout the years bearing a new identity while lacking a solid back story.

  No, Olivia had an entire life – from birth, through adolescence, and on to adulthood – clearly laid out for the world to find. In less than two hours he was able to learn that she was the only daughter of a wealthy San Francisco society couple who had recently passed away in a tragic accident, leaving her their vast combined fortune. She was known to have rebelled against her station in life; instead of spending time among her moneyed peers, she was instead drawn to musicians, actors, and other bohemian types. She appeared to be a permanent fixture at gallery openings and movie premiers alike, which made her well known among the starlets and hot young actors in Hollywood. Having dated her fair share of musicians – both famous and obscure – she now enjoyed a modest career as a romance novelist.

  She couldn’t have been more different than Ceara but there was something nonetheless that William found intriguing about Olivia Donnelly. Unfortunately, none of his research could tell him why she had been brought into his life. Why now? Hadn’t he been tormented enough with his memories of Ceara? Now her doppelgänger was forcing her way into his life! It was too much.

  William knew that his imagination was running wild, and yet he knew there was more to Olivia than was laid out in her public history. Surely there was some connection; Olivia and Ceara were physically identical if you accounted for the modernization of hair and clothing. There was too much evidence in front of him for the two women not to be linked. And yet, William didn’t want to get his hopes up. This wasn’t the first time that he had seen Ceara where she could not have been. More times than he cared to recollect, William had seen Ceara’s face in a crowd, heard her melodic voice on the wind, felt her fleeting touch against his skin. And just as many times he had thought he was finally going mad, succumbing to the mania that claimed many of his kind.

  Could those women have been Ceara reincarnated? Has my love been seeking me out through the ages?

  The implications were astounding.

  William realized with a start that he had the woman’s phone number! The simplest way to end his agony was to call the number she had left him via email to hear her voice. Once he did, he would know whether his eyes had deceived him..

  But what if … ?

  What would he do? What if Ceara had been reborn in this woman? What if the only person he had ever loved could be his love once again?

  What if I have a second chance to make things right?

  As much as he wanted to hope for these things, William was afraid that his thoughts were madness. Ceara was no more than bones and dust in the ground, and no amount of longing or despair would ever bring her back. He had proven once already that he wasn’t worthy of her love and he must learn to accept that his story did not have a happy ending.

  But what if … ?

  William swung from hope to despair and back again as he dialed the phone number she’d given him. One, two, and then three rings sounded before he heard the unmistakable click to voicemail. It was at that precise moment that William realized he had been holding his breath – not that he needed to, mind you, but some habits died hard even hundreds of years later.

  And then the breath William had been holding rushed from his body completely, leaving an empty shell of a man in its wake.

  “Hi, this is Olivia – you know the drill.”

  In those eight words William knew that his past had come back to haunt him as sure as he’d ever known anything at all. The room went black as all of his memories of Ceara flooded his brain – from the first moment they had met as children to the hour, minute, and second when he’d left her lifeless body on the bank of the river. He let out an agonized cry, bringing Seamus rushing into the room.

  Seamus feared for William but with this outburst he also feared for himself and not without good reason. It went without saying that it would be folly to approach any vampire when they were in such a state, but Seamus cared for William as he would a brother. He struggled with knowing what he should do.

  William held up his hand, stopping his friend and confidante from entering any further. Seamus quit his approach, but he did not leave.

  For what seemed like an eternity, William stood looking out the window into the black, starry night sky, trying to put his emotions in check. In reality it was merely seconds.

  “Please leave, Seamus. I’ll talk to you when I can but right now is not that time.”

  William heard his friend’s retreat from his study.

  On the one hand, William needed to see this woman like he needed the blood to live. He had enough circumstantial evidence at his disposal to confirm his theories, but he needed to see with his own preternatural eyes that she was Ceara reincarnated. On the other hand, he was reminded of what had happened the last time he saw Ceara. There was no denying that over the years he’d become an even bigger monster than he had been during those final minutes of her life. William didn’t want to – couldn’t – risk harming her again.

  Sitting alone in a room lit only by the glow of the full moon, he silently argued each
point until he’d exhausted every plausible scenario and its outcome. Vampires were inherently selfish creatures who sought their own satisfaction first and foremost. It was those urges that his logical self fought against all night. He wanted to see her more than he’d ever wanted anything in his supernatural life, but at the same time he knew that he wasn’t to be trusted. He had killed her once and there was no guarantee that he wouldn’t do it again, centuries of practice in controlling his urges notwithstanding.

  He examined all ideas and potential outcomes from every angle and then he made his decision. Before he could have a change of heart, William picked up the phone and re-dialed the number. Again, much to his relief, the call went to voicemail. Before he could say any of the words he longed to – instead of telling Olivia that he needed to meet her, to hold her in his arms, smell her hair – he told her, as succinctly as he could, that there was no way she would be allowed to tour the property and that her request was denied.

  To anyone else William’s voice would have sounded like ice – to his own ears, however, he sounded more than a little bit frightened and a lot panicked. But Olivia didn’t know him – that much he was sure of – and so she’d hear only a cold arrogance on the other end of the line, which suited him just fine.

  He wanted her, of course, but he was afraid of what he would do if he had her. He decided to put her off as much as he could.

  * * * *

  After hanging up the phone William sat at his desk, not moving so much as an eyelash. He kept going over the events of the past few hours in his head and for some bizarre reason, he was suddenly sure that his recent dreams and memories had been preparing him for this moment.

  For years he hadn’t thought of Ceara and then out of nowhere – with no explanation - he’d see her face when it wasn’t there, hear her voice in crowds, or the tinkling of her laughter, and then he’d remember their life in his dreams. He couldn’t explain it but he was certain that his mind had been preparing him for Olivia Donnelly. While this realization should have comforted him, instead he became even more confused and agonized.

  Alone with nothing but his obsessive thoughts as company, William almost didn’t hear his phone ringing. When he looked down his misery began anew – Olivia was calling him back. When he had called her looking to close the book on this whole dreaded nightmare, he had forgotten that any call he made from nearly any number in the world would be recorded in someone’s sleek little device.

  Hesitantly, he answered the phone, feeling as if he had no choice in the matter but to confront the situation. He heard her voice, but not her words, and the pain washed over him anew. The night was proving to be one of the worst of his life, which was quite a feat since he’d lived through thousands of them.

  William didn’t say anything, but he figured that Olivia could sense his presence.

  After several seconds he could hear her human body’s faint signals of panic, and he realized that she was worried that he had hung up on her.

  What a strange reaction.

  At first William was worried that she might be afraid of him, but then he remembered that she had absolutely no way of knowing what he was, and he would have bet his life that she didn’t know about Ceara. No, he was the only one who should have been afraid to pursue this any further.

  Olivia then launched into an impatient diatribe about how sorry she was to have approached him and how it was rude of her to intrude on his privacy. Hearing the nervousness in her voice was torture as it reminded William of the skittish young girl Ceara had been and how during all the time they had spent together as children, she had appeared anxious and shy in the presence of others, but never with him.

  As Olivia babbled on, her words brought to life William’s memories of Ceara’s nervous laughter each time he’d surreptitiously came upon her playing alone in the meadow, or as he’d approach her once she had blossomed into her womanhood, walking along the road to the village. He had been so preoccupied with the nightmarish thoughts of his last moments with Ceara that he had nearly forgotten all of the small, seemingly inconsequential ones that took place before they became lovers.

  By the time William had turned eighteen, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he loved her wholeheartedly and that he would marry her. Then, one day during her sixteenth year, Ceara had been standing in front of him, hands behind her back, looking down at her feet as she swept the right one back and forth in front of her in the grass. She seemed suddenly shy with him, afraid to meet his gaze. As they had spoken of inconsequential things, William had heard the jittery tone her voice took on with each sentence and he had instantly known that her nerves weren’t the same ones she displayed around other adults of their acquaintance. She was nervous, he knew, because she had felt something for him as well.

  William pulled his thoughts away from the past to bring his attention back to the here and now. As Olivia rambled on about her apologies and his privacy, William wanted nothing more than to end the conversation quickly. He had no idea what inappropriate thing he might say, but he didn’t trust himself.

  “Apology accepted. Now, is there anything else you wanted?” he asked, ice coating his words, the irritation he felt coming through their short exchange.

  Olivia paused, and then most unexpectedly, she asked William to dinner.

  “That’s a very odd request seeing as how we don’t really know one another and the extent of our communications have been me declining your previous requests,” he responded, still hoping to conceal his true thoughts from her. “You’re a rather determined girl, aren’t you? But let me ask you this, what makes you think my answer would be any different this time?”

  He was being rude, he knew, but for self-preservation’s sake William felt he had to be. He vowed to get through the phone call, making sure that Olivia wanted nothing more to do with him, and then he’d be able to put the whole sordid affair to rest. It wouldn’t be easy, but nothing ever worth doing was. William knew that regardless who Olivia was (or wasn’t), the woman’s life was worth him walking away. He owed it to the Ceara of yesterday to do so now because he hadn’t been able to do it then.

  That’s what he told himself.

  There was a long pause and he thought Olivia was going to say goodbye. He should have known better.

  Thinking back, he remembered that once Ceara had been infused with that unique self-confidence that was inherent in all beautiful women, she had never backed down from a challenge, least of all from him. Apparently that confidence had extended throughout the ages and had taken root in Olivia as well.

  Interrupting his thoughts, Olivia let out a barrage of anger on him then. As William listened to her tirade he was astonished to hear her call him an asshole, tell him that his mother must not have taught him the value of politeness, and finally she reminded him that he had called her.

  The words rushed from her mouth as one long, provoked set down.

  William could almost see her standing straighter as each successive word passed through her lips. He knew that her face would be flushed with exasperation and rage and that her eyes would be shining a most brilliant green as tears of anger threatened to fall to her cheeks.

  It broke his heart and thrilled him all at once.

  “So before you think you’re somehow the better person in this conversation, let me remind you that you’re not. You may be an important man here in Ireland and you may think you’re above reproach, but you’re not. You’re a rude, arrogant, egotistical son of a bitch who can go fuck him –.”

  He heard the phone click just before the last word was completely out of her mouth.

  William would never claim to be an angel, but his reaction to her verbal tongue-lashing was anything but appropriate. As his fangs descended, he leaned his head back and moaned out loud, giving voice to the desire for her that was coursing through his veins.

  My god, I’d forgotten how fiery she was.

  While he should have felt ashamed for the way he’d spoken to her, instead he f
elt exhilaration at the possibility of knowing her once again, the way only a man can know his woman.

  In that second, William changed his mind and decided against all wisdom that he wanted her and whether she was Ceara, Olivia, or whoever made not the slightest difference to him.

  He wanted the woman both as a man wants his lover and as a vampire needs warm, flowing blood to sustain him.

  His mind wandered back, and soon enough he was remembering – quite vividly – how passionate his and Ceara’s lovemaking had been from the very first time, how she would beg for more and scream his name, her sweat mingling with the goose bumps that broke out along her flesh while he moved in and out of her with a fierceness borne only of wanting to know every inch of someone.

  William let himself remember what it had been like to taste the warm, salty flesh between her legs as a mortal man and he knew that he would do so once again.

  He was doomed.

  CHAPTER 14

  William heard the erratic beating of her heart well before Olivia entered the room. She walked into the long, cavernous bar, eyes searching him out. As she scanned the room, William caught his first glance of her in person and it was his turn to gasp out loud. Seeing her for the first time sent an electric current rushing through his body, filling out every nerve cell, creating a fission of life and vitality that he’d long forgotten.

  It was hard for him not to believe in magic, mystery, and the secrets of the unknown when he a creature of myth and legend himself. William could not explain how magic worked but he knew what it felt like when it happened, and seeing her again after so many centuries was a moment of pure, unadulterated magic.

  William stepped away from the wall and moved to stand in front of the fire, hoping the blaze would warm his skin sufficiently so that the first time they touched the wintry marble of his skin wouldn’t set off her internal warnings. That it wouldn’t alert her to the fact that there was something not quite right about him, that he was Something Other.