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according to the knight Peter once served, even he hadn’t told his sons everything.
    “I need to visit the place where you kept the dagger.”
    “Nick asked us to wait here.” She looked him up and down. “Besides, you can’t traipse about the city in those clothes. If casting a glamour spell wears you down, we need an alternative. Let’s see if this place is as helpful as Nick claims.” She started up the back steps, pleased to hear him and his dog following her without comment or question.
    Knowing the typical layout of a brownstone, it was easy to find the master bedroom. When she pushed open the door, she reveled in a moment of pure awe. A massive four-poster bed was centered on the wall opposite the door, complete with a canopy draped in dark, rich silks. A plush, oversized dog bed took up a corner near the hearth. The other furnishings - a tall wardrobe, a high-boy dresser, and two wing chairs near the fireplace - were all crafted of heavy wood in a dark finish that seemed to glow from the inside out.
    “Holy cow,” she murmured.
    Behind her Wayne sucked in a breath. “My room...” he whispered. The dog slid between them, arrowing for the thick dog bed. “How...” Wayne’s voice trailed off yet again.
    She stepped aside, letting him enter the room for a closer inspection. He was equally pleased and baffled as to how it had been accomplished. That made two of them.
    “It is in perfect condition.” He rubbed a hand gently along the intricate vine carving climbing the nearest tall post of the bed and then dropped his forehead to the wood. His knuckles turned white as his grip tightened on the scabbard of the broadsword in his other hand.
    Roses bloomed across the footboard, feeding the vines on the posts. “This is your furniture?”
    “It is mine, my room, to the last detail.”
    She gave a low whistle. “I’m starting to understand the enduring O’Malley reputation for loyalty,” Tara said. “Although we obviously do a superb job of keeping secrets too.” Nick’s branch of the family tree had made all of this possible, there was no other explanation. It certainly underscored why she was to go to her cousin in case of an emergency with the dagger. “Would you like some time alone?”
    “Yes. Please,” he added his voice tight with emotion.
    Tara stepped back and closed the door behind her. Crossing centuries had barely fazed him yet clapping eyes on his belongings sent him reeling. Filled with a sudden rush of sympathy, she leaned back against the wall, reluctant to go far in case he needed her.
     

Chapter Three
     
    Gawain turned a slow circle, rocked by the familiarity of it all. He set the broadsword across the gleaming width of the polished dresser, as he’d always done at home. The rich silks and velvets on the bed beckoned him to sink in and rest. The colors as deep as ever. How had Peter managed this? It was just as he’d left it, so much that he thought he might see the sweeping green meadows of home if he looked out the window. However frustrated he might be with his squire’s broken vow, the man had seemingly done all he could to rectify that twist of fate.
    He felt the hound’s steady gaze on him as he moved about the room, lovingly touching the things he hadn’t valued enough in his own time. When he’d left for his campaign it had quickly become clear he’d never see this room again. Yet here it was. Here he was.
    What did it mean to have the pieces of the life and man he’d been sitting here in a time he could scarcely imagine? He had so many questions and too few of them related to the problem that had roused him.
    Opening drawers, he found more of his belongings, things time apparently could not improve, all surrounded by what must be modern conveniences. The small knife he’d used to trim his beard was in its place, but the basin was gone. Where it had been was a note to check a nearby door. He did, finding a large bathing room with more notes and guidance.
    Once