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room. “I don’t think so.”

Kenzie gave her a black and gold tapestry bag. “I put clean drawers and chemises in here. If you end up needing another dress, Kit can share what she has.”

“Perfect.” Ensley stored the laptop and charger in the bag. “I guess I’m ready.”

Austin took the bag. “I’ll carry it. You’ll need to hold on to me when we go through the vortex.”

“Let’s get in position,” Elliott said.

“Oh, Ensley,” Kenzie interrupted. “Wait a minute. I forgot to tell you something. Come here.”

Ensley walked over to Kenzie, who lowered her voice. “I have one piece of advice. If you have sex, use a condom. Several of us have gotten pregnant with twins while traveling.”

“Ooh. Twins! Don’t worry. I don’t intend to have sex,” Ensley whispered.

“The way that man is looking at you, he’s already got it all mapped out. I put condoms in your bag just in case.”

Ensley glanced at Austin, and the sparkle in his eyes confirmed what Kenzie just said. Holy moly.

Ensley returned to the men and squeezed in between Austin and Braham. “If we get separated,” Austin said, “make your way to the mansion, and I’ll meet you there.”

“I’m sure the farm doesn’t look the same, but it is recognizable?” she asked.

“The house looks the same,” Braham said. “At least it did when I was there in 1865. The grounds aren’t as manicured. But ye’ll recognize it. Follow the white fences.”

“Do you think we’ll get separated?”

“If we do, we’ll find ye,” Elliott said.

“Good to know.” She linked her arms with Austin and Braham. “I’m ready.”

Elliott opened a diamond brooch. “Concentrate on Meredith.” Then he recited the chant, “Chan ann le tìm no àite a bhios sinn a’ tomhais an’ gaol ach ’s ann le neart anama.”

As the fog engulfed them, Ensley had a sudden thought that she was slipping into a cloudy gap between two worlds.

54

MacKlenna Farm, KY (1885)—Elliott

Elliott emerged from the fog—alone.

That didn’t bother him, and it wouldn’t bother Braham, either, since he was here during the Civil War when it likely didn’t look much different. Austin would easily find his way around. During his years playing basketball at the University of Kentucky, he brought his teammates and their girlfriends to the farm for cookouts, swimming in the Olympic-size pool, and horseback riding. He knew pretty much every inch of the property.

Ensley, though, wasn’t as familiar with the layout. JC had invited her to visit the farm several times when they were in college, but she rarely saw more than the mansion and stallion barns. But she was her father’s daughter. She’d find her way.

And then he remembered. Ensley was his daughter now, and Tavis was his son. He would have to tell them sooner or later, but first, he needed to tell Meredith and then Kevin.

Elliott paused and studied the landscape. He was close to where he landed last time. If he wanted to be a coward, he could stop at the cabin for a bit. Give the others time to reach the mansion and let Meredith know he was back. That would give her time to prepare for a confrontation.

No, not her. She wouldn’t need or want prep time. She’d already know what she wanted to say, and she’d throw words at him with the finesse of a dartboard champion.

Was their marriage strong enough to survive this?

He honestly didn’t know. They’d argued about everything from soup to nuts during their marriage. But they had always been on the same page when it came to JC—until now.

He would fight for her and ask for forgiveness, but if he had to do it all again—he’d make the same decisions. It was part of living in the cloudy gap where nothing was black or white. Protecting the brooches from evil was his foremost responsibility, and that obligation extended to protecting the future Keeper. Period.

But—and this was a big one—without stability and the clan’s cohesiveness, Elliott’s job was almost hopeless. Without Meredith at his side, her absence almost guaranteed both would be impossible. So what did that mean for his relationship with her?

Simple. He had to take a knee, beg for forgiveness, and recommit to being partners in life and love. She was everything to him, and if he had to grovel, he would. But it was also vital that he protect his family from evil forces determined to destroy it, steal all the brooches, and try to control the world.

With his eye on the path forward and steel in his spine, he set out to find his wife. But when he saw smoke coming from the cabin’s chimney, he decided to stop and see if there were any clues to give him an idea of how long he’d been gone.

The temperature was the same, the spring leaf-out was the same, and the sweet smell of flowers hadn’t changed. So maybe he’d only been gone a few days.

As he approached the cabin, he noticed the eucalyptus-scented air was also the same. “Shit.” The brooch had returned him close to the moment of his departure. But after he thought about it, he decided that was the best possible outcome. He could rip up the letter he left for Meredith and explain in person what he’d done. And why.

He opened the door and stopped in his tracks.

Goddamn it.

Meredith sat at the table, reading his letter with her lips as white as her fingers gripping the page. When she looked up, her eyes were shiny with tears—the furious kind, not the sorrowful kind. And he braced himself for what he knew was coming.

“You’re a goddamn bastard, and I hate you.” She balled up the letter and threw it in the fire. Then she stomped over to the hook by the door and snatched up her bonnet. Slapping it on her head, she shouldered past him and out through the door he held open.

“I hated you that night at the farm all those years ago when you accused me of killing your horse.” She paused

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