In the ninth-century, Irish warrior Connar fell hopelessly in love with Aisling, one of the Nine Sisters, a group of priestesses skilled in healing. When Aisling came to a tragic end, he used magic to travel to the future to reunite with her.
His beloved Aisling is now Allison Hunter, a free-lance writer in Denver. Although Allison doesn’t remember her past life, she is instantly attracted to Connar when she interviews him for an article. But someone has followed Connar from the past, and they are determined to keep Allison and Connar apart.
As Allison begins to have visions of a violent and terrifying confrontation, she struggles to separate the past from the present and trust in a love that transcends even death.
“It always amazes me how busy everyone is all the time,” she went on. “Doesn’t anyone ever relax and enjoy the simple pleasures of life? Like taking a walk at sunset, like we just did.”
“That is true,” he responded. “The simple things, being with the people you care about, that is what matters.”
I love you, Allison. You are all that matters. He willed her to believe it. To feel what was in his heart. As soon as he kissed her, she would remember what they’d shared. Both in this life and in the past. At least he hoped so.
She turned down Mark’s street. This was it. Everything depended on this.
Would he kiss her? Allison wondered. Should she let him?
Of course she should. She’d had a bit of a freak out, but it was over now. Whatever had happened at the reservoir wasn’t real. Or anything to worry about. This was real. This man beside her. She’d made love with him a bunch of times already. Been as close to him as she’d ever been to anyone. During all those experiences, she’d never felt frightened or uneasy. Indeed, the opposite was true. Sex had never felt so right, so much like it was meant to be.
If she was having a past life experience, well then that was exactly what it was. A past life. It didn’t have anything to do with the here and now.
She really didn’t believe in reincarnation anyway. The way Connar had looked back at the reservoir was clearly her unconscious mind playing tricks on her. She’d always had a vivid imagination. That’s why she’d become a writer, for heaven’s sake. Maybe this was a new manifestation of her creativity. Or maybe Megan’s witchy friends had put a spell on her, something that opened her mind and made her imagination run wild. Although the idea of a spell was even weirder than thinking she was remembering something from another life.
“This is it.” Connar pointed to a modest older house.
Allison put the car into park, feeling a tiny twinge of anxiety. It was quickly overruled by a sense of expectation. Even if her mind fought it, her body remembered exactly how much pleasure this man had given her.
Connar gazed at her, looking as stunningly handsome as ever. Then he leaned near. His lips were as warm as sunshine and tasted as sweet as ripe fruit. His arms came around her, pulled her close.
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