Page 63 of No Place in Time

They came at last to a small cottage near a low stone wall by the forest’s edge where the widow Alys lived. Two boys and a girl were wrestling in the grass.

“This is the widow’s cottage,” Isabel said. “My brother wants to be rid of her because her husband died and she contributes so little to the estate. But if they are forced to leave, where will she and her children go?

Cecily noticed a man standing a little apart from them, watching, his face shaded by a broad-brimmed hat. He pressed one arm against his chest, and he moved stiffly.

Cecily saw him only in outline at first. Broad-shouldered, thin. He looked like… could it be?

No, it could not be him.

His stance was careful, as if each breath was an effort. The man removed his hat and turned around fully at the sound of the carriage.

She stopped breathing.

Finn.

Not the Finn she had last seen—strong and commanding—but different, as though the world had wrung him out. Yet it was him. She would have known him in the dark.

She fought an urge to leap from the carriage, dash across the field, and throw her arms around him to know he was real.

Instead, she drew herself upright in the carriage and squared her shoulders.

Alys came forward, wiping her hands on her apron. “Lady Isabel,” she said with a respectful dip. She waved an arm toward Finn. “This is a soldier on the mend. Came to us near broken. He’s been a help with the children and the plantin’.”

The man bowed his head slightly and stepped forward.

“Good day, Lady Cecily,” Finn said, his eyes locking on hers.

Holding his gaze, Cecily dismounted and walked toward him, leaving a surprised Isabel in the carriage.

“We have met,” she said, her voice cooler than she felt. “In Marrowden, was it not?”

A faint flicker showed in his eyes. “Yes, my lady.”

“You told the physician you were returning at once.” She kept her voice even. “He waited.”

Finn held her gaze. “Circumstances changed.”

Alys smiled uncertainly. “He speaks little of the battles. Of Scotland.”

Still in the carriage, Isabel regarded him with mild curiosity. “You are fortunate to have found good care,” she said. “I see you and the Lady Cecily have met before.”

“We have,” he answered.

Cecily inclined her head. She could feel the tremor in her hands and forced them to be still.

“The estate has many quiet corners,” he added after a moment, his voice low and measured so that only she could hear. He was looking at her so directly that it unnerved her, and she looked away. “I have found the old chapel ruins useful for walking. In the mornings, it is a good place for thought.”

The words might have passed unnoticed. But Cecily did not mistake them.

“Yes,” she said, still looking at her hands. “It is a good place. In the morning.”

The boys clamored for attention again. Alys turned to separate them. Isabel moved toward the cottage door to speak with Alys.

For a brief moment, Cecily and Finn stood only a few paces apart.

She looked into his eyes. The same eyes that pierced through her, always. He looked older, she thought. But he was alive.

She lifted her chin. “I’m glad you did not die, Finn. I thought… I thought you must have after so much time.”