9
London—September 1816
Devon stumbled through the gardens, his heart pounding as he struggled to catch his breath. The muted sounds of laughter and fireworks that blossomed in the sky overhead were all too familiar.
“I’m…home…” The words escaped his lips in a ragged whisper. He was home, but he wasn’t with Rebecca.
“Aphrodite?” He didn’t shout her name, but rather it came out as a soft plea.
A woman in a dark-red evening gown appeared. He fell to his knees, clutching at her skirts.
“Take me back, please. Take me back to her.” His eyes stung with tears. He would beg. He would grovel. He would do anything to be back with the woman he loved.
Aphrodite gave him a cold smile. “You have been granted all the mercy I am willing to give. I returned you to your time, at her request.”
She as
