“It’s good and solid,” she called softly, panicking now that someone might check in on her or hear all the scuffling.
“Good lass.” Ashford held out his arms. “Don’t be frightened, I’ll catch you if you slip.”
“Just try to make it halfway before you slip, if you can, or you’ll crush him,” Thomas added unhelpfully.
Ashford reached behind him and absently cuffed him on the side of the head. “You’re light as a feather, Matilda, even with all that dress. Hurry and come down now, before we get caught.”
She gathered up her heavy velvet skirts and got her legs over the side, dangling down against the cold brick wall. Scrunched into a sitting position in the window, she wrapped the rope around her wrist, then thought better of it, not wanting to tear her hand off if she did fall. She’d have to hang on for dear life. And it was dear. She couldn’t wait to see Ashford up close, make sure this wasn’t a dream.
Even though she’d grown up in California, a land rich with mountains, she hadn’t done much more than ski the bunny slopes when her friends coerced her into going with them. She hated rock climbing and rappelling and anything that carried the risk of being smashed like a pumpkin on the ground below. The thought of Ashford getting grumpier and grumpier on the ground stiffened her resolve and she stifled a nervous giggle as she twisted her body around and dropped.
Hanging from the rope, she swayed precariously until she got her feet against the wall. She couldn’t turn enough in her gown to see below her, and hoped she didn’t bang into any other windows on the way down. It didn’t seem like she was going down, she just hung there, her feet planted against the side of the house, her palms already starting to burn from the rope.
She realized with another anxious laugh that she actually had to make herself go down, hand by hand, grip by grip, and the thought of releasing the rope made her want to vomit. Jumping would have been far easier, she wouldn’t have had all this time to think about how horrible it would be to hit the ground. Someone grabbed the end of the rope from below, steadying it, and she tried to do what she’d seen on so many adventure tv shows back in her old life, the life she was positive now she was ready to say goodbye to.
One hand, one foot, one hand, one foot, she slowly inched her way lower. After a few moments she thought she might be low enough to not get hurt too badly if she fell and she confidently went a little faster. Something slippery, a bit of moss or ivy, caused her next foot landing to slide alarmingly to the side, wrenching her already taxed muscles. Her other foot skated around on the surface seeking purchase and she ended up hanging by her hands again, the wall too slippery and her body too heavy in the dress to do anything else. She thought her arms might rip out of their sockets when she heard Ashford urging her to let go.
She never for a second doubted him and let go of the scratchy rope. Almost immediately she was in his arms, nearly toppling him backwards. He managed to stay standing and held on tight, kissing the top of her head and cradling her like a baby as he worked his way out of the thorny bushes he’d crashed through to catch her.
She wriggled her feet to the ground and threw her arms around him, positive she was strangling him, but he didn’t seem to notice or care. He was as sturdy as an oak, her Ashford, and she breathed him in, clutching and kissing and hanging on.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured into his neck as she felt his lips trailing down her jaw. “I’m so sorry.”
“There’s no need, my love,” he told her in a low, rumbling voice, near her ear. She shivered and clung tighter. “I’m the one who’s sorry. But we can speak of it more when we’re safe. Or not at all, ever again, if that’s what you want. I’m only happy you’re here in my arms.”
“Me too.” She pushed him backward into the circle of moonlight and untangled herself enough to really look at him, take him in properly, as she’d wanted to all these long days without him. She gasped at the sight of his face. Even in the dim light she could see he wasn’t well. His handsome face was pale, the night shadows carving deep lines across his gaunt cheekbones. There were dark circles under his eyes, which had a haunted, tired look in their normally sharp grey depths. “What’s the matter?” she asked, desperately afraid again. “What happened to you?”
“It’s a long story, Matilda.” When he saw she wasn’t about to move a muscle, he smiled ruefully. “It was a bit of work to get here, that’s all. I’ll be better now I’ve found you, I swear it.”
She tucked her arm into the crook of his elbow and leaned into him as he led her away. Thomas crowded in on the other side of her, looking nervously from side to side. “We need to hurry,” he said, and instead of bopping him one for being obvious, she reached over and squeezed his hand.
“Nick told me you were dead,” she said. “I’m so glad you’re not.”
“Me too,” he replied with a shocked look. “Thankfully Lord Ashford found me before he could make that happen.”
“We should be thanking my young friend,” Ashford said, and Tilly gave him a confused look, wondering who he meant. He chuckled. “One of the real queen’s followers,” he explained.
Tilly felt her stomach turn over at the mention of Ariana. How was she going to explain that to Ashford? They made their way as quietly as possible past the barn and wended their way to a tall stone wall, thick with ivy.
“A bit more climbing,” Ashford said apologetically. “But first—”
He stopped when a ghostly apparition appeared out of the night, long steel grey beard, even longer grizzled hair tied back in a ponytail with a black ribbon. His hands moved almost spasmodically in front of him and his mouth moved silently. His eyes appeared to be rolled back in his head as he moved straight for them.
Before she could scream, the creature stopped abruptly and blinked. He smiled, revealing a mouth full of shiny, perfect movie star teeth, and bowed low to them. Tilly fell backwards against Ashford’s strong chest, sick and tired of being scared.
Thomas whispered in her ear, “That’s the man I wanted to try and speak with. He’s one of the original followers.”
“Yes,” Ashford agreed, “The young man I first came across didn’t quite know whether to trust me or not, so thought he’d be clever and turn me over to his father here, who, as it turns out, I’ve known since I was a wee child. He’s been hexing the grounds to help keep us hidden while we got you out.” He paused and held out a hand toward the man. “Matilda, please let me introduce you to Drummond Donaghue, an old friend of the family. How long has it been?”
“Not that long, I dinna think,” he said, clearly Scottish. “Though ye might not know of it yet, if ye’ve come from a time before it.” They took a moment to shake their heads at the vagaries of time travel before he turned to Tilly and bowed again, running his hand over his beard. “It’s an honor to make your acquaintance, my lady. Though I’ve seen Lord Ashford here once or twice before, I must have been elsewhere when ye visited.” When he straightened, she saw he had tears glistening in his eyes. “I was terrible fond of Queen Ariana. I knew at a glance you weren’t her, though of course, the resemblance is astounding.”
“It’s a bit of bad luck that you look so much like their queen, isn’t it, Matilda?” Ashford asked, then screwed up his brows in confusion. “But you must be mistaken about this being the place you’ve seen us. Why should we visit here? But let’s argue about it on the road. You’ll come with us won’t you? Your lad is welcome as well.”
“No, we shall stay and avenge Ariana,” he growled.
Tilly knew that while Drummond seemed to know very well who Ashford was to Ariana, Ashford was still completely in the dark, only concerned with getting away. Apparently both she and Ashford had visited Ariana in this time, which meant they must have been aware of what she’d been doing. There was no way they would have lived long enough to do it naturally, which meant, much to her horror, they were still messing about with magic. What would it take for them to learn their lesson?
She hated blurting it out w
hen Ashford was clearly sick or injured or both. She’d wanted to break it to him slowly, later on, when she was sure he was well enough to take it in, but she had to speak up now or risk everything.
“No!” she cried, getting jostled from both Thomas and Ashford for being so loud. “No avenging,” she said more quietly but no less firm. “You can’t kill Nicholas Kerr no matter what, do you understand?”
“My lady, he murdered your—”
She made an unseemly croaking noise to get him to stop, shaking her head wildly. “Ashford doesn’t know,” she explained weakly.
“What don’t I know?”
She took a deep breath. “The reason Ariana looked so much like me is because I was, I mean I will be, her mother. She was our daughter. We really shouldn’t know any of this.”
Drummond staggered. “What are ye saying?”
“We came from before. In the time we came from she hasn’t been born yet.”
Ashford slumped against the wall, causing the ivy to rustle. “How can this be?”
“It’s true, Lord Ashford,” Thomas said, hurrying to help steady him. “Her cousin said he knew the children, had met them.”
“Children?” Ashford gasped, shaking him off. “As in more than one? I ask again, how can this be?”
Tilly thumped Thomas for being so stupid. “Stop helping,” she said. “But yes, more than one. I think it’s possible because of the possibility of her still being born.” She groaned. “It made sense in my head when I was thinking about it.”
“Nicholas Kerr murdered our daughter?” Ashford finally added it all up and pushed himself away from the wall, his fists clenched and his jaw tight with rage. “I’ll kill him myself, right now.”
She blocked his path, grabbing Thomas to help her make a human barrier. “No. No one can kill him. We need to keep him alive, in fact we need to help him when we get back. You need to find a sure-fire investment for him or get his brother to give him some of their land.”
“Have you gone mad?” he asked, his tired, sunken eyes now alive with fury. “You want me to help the man who killed our child?”
“I want to keep him from killing her, don’t you see, idiot?” She slammed her palms into his chest and shoved. “We have a chance to change all this, but not if one of you kills him now. If he dies now, when Ariana’s already— already gone, then there’s no chance to change it. It’ll all just play out the same way and we’ll lose her again, but next time we’ll know her.” She choked, unable to make herself understood. It all came out sounding like gibberish though it had made so much sense in her head.
Amazingly Ashford seemed to understand her, and relaxed his fists a little. She could tell it took all his willpower not to charge up to the house and tear Nick limb from limb. She didn’t bother adding that he’d be sorely outnumbered and lose anyway, and fortunately she didn’t need to.
He nodded stiffly. “I don’t like it, but you’re right. I hope you’re right.”
“Your Lordship, my hexes won’t hold much longer, ye really should be off,” Drummond said. He closed his eyes and did some finger wagging, perhaps trying to strengthen his spells.
She reached out and took him by the shoulders before he got too deep in concentration. “Promise us you won’t harm him. In fact, you need to protect him, as awful as that sounds. Give us a chance to fix this, save Ariana.”
It took him a moment but he finally nodded distastefully. “I promise, and wish ye all good fortune.”
Chapter 29
When they arrived back at Belmary House, Ashford barely made it to the servant’s bed he’d been using, and collapsed into it with a long groan. Tilly hovered over him, refusing food or drink, only wanting to watch him sleep. Occasionally she checked his pulse and breathing, he slept so soundly she feared he was dead a few times.
She didn’t want to disturb him, but finally she couldn’t stand it any longer and gently slipped onto the narrow bed beside him, wrapping her arms around him to keep him warm and let him know she was there. To her surprise, he rolled to face her, his hands hungrily roaming down her body while he kissed every surface he could reach.
“Are you even awake?” she whispered.
“I hope so,” he said between kisses. “I’d rather this be real than a dream.”
“It’s not a dream,” she said, letting her eyes drift shut as she enjoyed the fluttering lightness of his lips so close to hers. “But are you okay?” She was torn between wanting more and worrying about him.
He gazed at her, only inches away, and his silver grey eyes turned dark with desire. “Yes, finally. God, Matilda, I need you so.”
She burrowed close to him, not sure if she could handle all the emotions coursing through her. Relief made her weak, the things he was doing with his fingers made her weaker. Happiness that they were together again made her want to squirm against him, as did his mouth trailing down her throat. He feverishly pushed away her loose gown and moved lower. She gave into the strongest thing she felt at the moment: pure, unadulterated lust, and rolled on top of him.
He blinked in surprise at being disconnected from her skin, but she quickly lowered her mouth to his and relaxed against him as he sighed contentedly. His hands were anything but content as they made their way down her legs, then hoisted up the edges of her nightgown.
“Thank you for finding me,” she said. She shivered with ecstasy and pressed her forehead into his shoulder. “I won’t make you do it again.”
“Here and now, Matilda, here and now,” he said in his bossy boots tone.
A tear of perfect happiness fell from her eye and landed on his chest. She wiped it away, then giggled as he gripped her hips and rolled her onto her back. They still had so much to fear and so much to fight. Just getting back to their proper time could kill them. But none of that bothered her at that moment. Everything she ever needed was right here and now.
***
It took Ashford a week to feel strong enough to travel again, during which time he complained plenty about being hidden away in the servant’s chambers, and the more he complained, the better Tilly felt. Her grumpy Ashford was back.
She was worried they’d never find a way back to 1814 to start getting things on the right path, but he promised them he could do it. He also promised it would hurt. A lot. He showed her the spell he’d crafted and explained where he thought he could make it better, but since he knew it worked, he didn’t want to risk messing with it.
“It hurts, though,” he told her for the tenth time, and she could see in his eyes he didn’t relish the thought of using it again. “I think it nearly killed me.”
As much as she wanted to get home, she waited patiently for him to say it was the right time. It would be soon enough. The cramped quarters and having to stay hidden like criminals was beginning to chafe her nerves, so she knew it was rubbing Ashford raw.
“That man is the most useless muttonhead sot I’ve ever seen,” he complained about the current lord for the tenth or eleventh time that day. “I refuse to believe he’s one of ours, not even several generations removed. Something must have happened and our family lost the house.”
“I don’t want to be mean, Ashford,” Tilly said as he helped tie her into her corset. “But the Alexander family seems kind of, well, awful. What was going on in 1644 for instance? All that screaming?” She shuddered.
“Well, we can’t be held accountable for the ones who came before us, can we?”
“We should still look into it. It gives me the creeps to live here knowing that things like that happened in our guest rooms.”
“So we have to figure out what atrocities were being committed back then, and stop them, and we not only have to have three children, we have to save the life of one of them— what else?”
“We should figure out why that muttonhead upstairs drinks so much,” she said. “Oh, and you don’t want to know what happened to Farrah here in the 1980s. We’ll need to set that straight, too. It seems that lord was a real piece of work.�
��
“Are you quite certain that’s all?” he asked sarcastically.
She perked up. “You know, we should try and let Piper Sinclair know what happened to Solomon Wodge. Remember she did a similar spell and her grandmother disappeared? It might make her feel better that she got another chance in a different time, maybe ended up a better person like Ezra Ermine did.”
“Like you think he did,” Ashford corrected and she turned around and tweaked his nose, just to wipe the pompous look off his face. He grabbed her fingers and kissed them. “I wish you’d let me go round to that shop and see for myself. It’s probably just a man who rather looks like Wodge did.”
She shook her head. “Nope, I’m right and I know it. How else can we explain the similarities? He was interested in magic, but he couldn’t do it, that was the first change for the better. He helped people get over illnesses instead of, well, killing them randomly. That’s definitely a change for the better. And he had your book, Ashford! That can’t be written off as a coincidence. It was to lead us to him so we could have closure.”
“The way you speak will always confuse and fascinate me, Matilda. I do love you so, you know. That’s why I’ll take your word for it. I don’t believe Wodge deserved a second chance, though, so it seems a bit unfair.”
“I know,” she sighed. “But I still like to think that nothing evil could ever come out of you, or that you could destroy someone in a rage. Even at your darkest moment, deep down you’re good. Whatever it was in you that did that thinks all people deserve a second chance.”
“Bloody hell,” he groaned. “I’m beginning to feel ill again with your nonsense. And some evil must have come from me at some point or that worthless sot wouldn’t be the current lord.”
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