She swallowed. The Escape Clause, as she and Cat had called it, capital letters and all, stated Eliza just had to sit on the center stone and wish with all her heart to be back in the twenty-first century, in the arms of William Dawes. If she did, Cat had written that William would fall madly in love with her, as he’d done with Cat.
Eliza had wanted to pick Jesse Parker, the fellow grad student she’d had a mild crush on last year—he’d seemed a good pick—but Cat reminded her it had to be a fictional character, one Cat had created. William was as good a choice as any. Unless Cat had decided to be with him after all. Eliza wrinkled her brow. Hopefully, that wasn’t the case.
Sure, a love story with William would be formulaic. Eliza would never know if he loved her for her, or loved her because Cat had written he would, but at this point, she didn’t care. She just wanted love and security and the realization of some sort of a happy-ever-after.
It wasn’t politically correct of her, to want the fairytale happy ending, but she didn’t care about that right now, either. She wanted release from longing for a man who would never love her, for a man who affected her like no other man ever had, but who wouldn’t—or couldn’t—set aside his earlier experiences and take a chance on love again. She deserved more than that. She wanted to be Cinderella for once and land the Prince. Happy Ever After. Boom. Was that so wrong?
Emmeline was so excited about dresses she didn’t notice Eliza’s lack of attention. That suited Eliza fine; she needed time to make plans of her own.
Deveric sat at his end of the dining table, swishing the port in his glass. He glanced to his right, at the spot where Eliza typically sat, but it was empty.
He’d been mostly silent during the meal. Not that his siblings had noticed, as busy as they were plotting their plans for London, each excited to be heading there for the Season. Except maybe Amara.
He understood. His sisters were always happy to come to Clarehaven after the non-stop whirl of the Season’s social events, but a few months here, especially when the snow piled up and made it hard for them to visit anywhere, and they were ready to go back. He’d always been the same, too.
He didn’t want to go to London now, though he knew Arth and Em awaited his return. Normally, he, too, liked the hustle and bustle, liked the temporary escape from the pressures of estate management. Now, it all felt empty, meaningless. Especially if he had to be with Eliza, but not be with Eliza. The idea of watching her, watching her flirt, watching her possibly fall in love with another man, maybe even accept a suit, tore at him. But what could he do? He could not offer for her.
He exhaled loudly. His sisters had all left, anxious to finish travel preparations, but his mother remained at the opposite end of the table. She watched him silently, her lips pinched, her brows folded over her eyes, puzzlement etched on her face. Raising an eyebrow, he took a bite of the beef still on his plate but didn’t taste it. His eyes wandered again to Eliza’s empty chair.
He would find her tomorrow. They had to talk about this, this ... passion, or whatever it was, that flared between them whenever they were together. He had to make her understand he could not, would not follow through on it. He wasn’t interested in marrying again. He’d suffered enough the first time, and Lord knew he’d never risk impregnating someone. But he wouldn’t, couldn’t ask Eliza for anything less.
She was a widow, and therefore had more social freedom than other women. Many a widow carried on affairs without repercussions. But he wouldn’t disgrace her—or himself—by asking her to enter into such a liaison. He wouldn’t give in to the feelings he had for her. They were feelings of lust, no more, he told himself for the hundredth time. He wasn’t stupid enough to fall in love with her.
In love with her? He wasn’t in love with Eliza James, this wondrous creature from the future, who talked with strange words and treated servants, treated everyone, as if they were not only equals but also friends. Who’d taken his son—his son—under her wing, loving Frederick as he deserved to be loved, even when Deveric had failed to do so. This woman who not only fired his blood but piqued his intellectual curiosity like no woman ever had. This exquisite, bewildering, tempting, exasperating American with whom he wanted to spend every minute—in and out of bed.
No. He was not in love with her. He could not be in love with her. It was lust, the lure of fantasy, the magnetism of the unknown. That’s all. And he was the Duke of Claremont, with a myriad of responsibilities and pressures. He had no time for distractions, for fantasizing about women.
Not women. Woman. One woman. Eliza. Oh, how he wanted her. He wanted to ravish every inch of her, to lace his fingers through her starlit hair, kiss her honeyed lips. He wanted to squeeze those voluptuous breasts, run his fingers over her nipples, feel her tremble as his hand moved up her thighs. He wanted...
Good Lord, he needed to get a hold of himself. Perhaps literally, to get this vixen out of his head. Surely easing the lust would erase these other emotions, the ones dangerously close to those the poets had always described.
No, love was not for him. Love meant risk. Love meant losing control. Love meant vulnerability, the possibility of blackness after bliss. He couldn’t do it, couldn’t let her in, couldn’t let it all out, all he’d fought so hard to contain after the loss of his daughter. He couldn’t risk hurting Eliza, couldn’t risk losing her. Better to never have her at all.
He looked to his mother again, his expression hard. She gave a slight nod as if satisfied with what she saw in his face.
Yes, Mother. You have won.
Chapter 34
The next morning dawned cold and breezy. Not the best day for a ride, perhaps, but Eliza was determined. She needed to go, needed to escape, needed to run back to all that was familiar, to where she knew she was loved, at least by one person. Cat.
Freddy’s face popped into her head. He loves you, too, Lizzie. You know it, and you love him. Now you’re going to abandon him? It couldn’t be helped. Life lessons were often painful, but Freddy would survive. He wasn’t supposed to get attached to his governess, anyway, and that’s all she was. She wasn’t his relative, wasn’t really his cousin. She certainly wasn’t his mother. She had to let him go.
Her heart nearly ripped in two at the thought.
Steeling her shoulders, she walked down to his room. His door was open and he was playing with some small metal soldiers on his floor. He looked up warily upon hearing her footsteps then grinned.
“I thought you were Nurse Pritchett.” His eyes revealed how much the idea displeased him.
Eliza kneeled on the floor next to him. “Freddy,” she said, her voice wavering slightly. “There may come a time soon when I have to go.”
Freddy dropped the soldier he’d had in his hand. “I know you are going to London with everyone else. It’s all right. I’ll be okay here with Pirate.”
She smiled at both his use of okay and at his attempt to cheer her up—cheer her up, when he was the child and she the adult. What a precious kid. I hope he never loses that kind heart.
“I’m sure Pirate will love you as you love him.” She leaned across and drew Freddy into a hug. He tensed, momentarily startled, and then threw his arms around her. She buried her nose in his hair and squeezed him back. “As I love you,” she whispered.
“Papa says he will bring me to London when it’s a little warmer. He says he’ll take me to see the Menagerie!”
Eliza fought to keep the tears from falling. “I’m sure you will have a wonderful time.” She smoothed her hand over his hair. “Freddy?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you for being my friend. It was hard to come here all alone, but you have brightened my days for me.”
He gave her a grin. “Really?”
Another word he’d adopted from me. “Really.”
“Look, Lizzie,” he said, sliding out of her arms and back onto the floor. “My front tooth is wiggly!”
She watched him move it back and forth. “You’re growing up!” she p
roclaimed as she stood up. “Take care of yourself, Frederick. Don’t forget me.”
He gave her a wry glance. “It’s not like you’re leaving forever.”
Except it is.
Becca beamed with delight when Eliza asked her for a riding lesson at breakfast. “I knew it!” she said. “I knew you’d fall in love with horses, too! How can you not?”
“How not, indeed,” Emmeline murmured. “Maybe when you get close enough to smell them and realize they’ll bite or kick you, or throw you off their backs if they can.”
At Emmeline’s words, Eliza momentarily reconsidered her plan. Horses scared her, too. But the monolith was too far away for her to walk, not without her absence being noted, at least. Not that anyone would care.
“Oh, Emme, not all of them are like that and you know it. You just need the right horse. Hasn’t Buttercup been fine for you?”
Emmeline nodded. “I suppose. But I prefer traveling by carriage—so much more civilized.”
With a roll of her eyes, Becca rose from the table. “Are you ready, Eliza?”
No, her heart screamed. I’m not ready. I didn’t even say good-bye. But her mind locked those thoughts away. You need to go home, Eliza James. You don’t belong here. It was a freak of nature, a trick of time that you ended up here anyway, and clearly, the Universe has told you it’s a mistake.
“Yes.” Standing tall, she followed Becca out of the room. “Yes, I am,” she said in as strong a tone as she could muster. Which didn’t feel very strong at all.
Eliza pulled at the folds of the riding habit Becca had loaned her, once again feeling the stuffed sausage, as Deveric’s sister was definitely of a thinner build than she. How did women manage to ride a horse while draped in so much fabric? As they approached the stables and a horse whinnied, doubt enveloped her again. What am I thinking? I’ve never been on a horse. Like, ever. How am I going to stay on one all the way to the monolith?
Becca walked in and immediately over to Otto, stroking his nose before offering him an apple. A stable hand brought over a sidesaddle and hitched it onto the horse as Becca spoke to the animal in loving tones.
Eliza’s eyes widened. Crap. Sidesaddle? That thing looked downright dangerous. Becca started talking, explaining how to mount a horse, how to sit, how to hold the reins, but Eliza barely heard a word.
I can’t do this. I can’t do this. She closed her eyes, forcing herself to breathe, in and out, in and out. Only that brought the pungent scent of horse rushing through her sinuses and she sneezed. See? I’m allergic to them. I’m allergic to escape. I shouldn’t be running away. Opening her eyes, she squared her shoulders, trying to restore her confidence.
Was she giving up too easily? Deveric was obviously attracted to her. Wasn’t that at least something? Not enough, her brain screamed. Not enough. She couldn’t keep fighting this war on so many fronts—the social gulf, Deveric’s mother, Deveric himself. Not to mention the time period issues. Their entire life experiences and expectations were so different. She was tired and wanted to go home. A heavy sigh escaped.
Becca turned to her. “Are you nervous?” she said. “Don’t be! You’re going to have so much fun. That’s Petunia.” She gestured to the horse on which the stable hand had just attached the saddle. “She’s so gentle. Here, Sam will help you up. Watch me first.”
The stable hand nodded without saying a word. Eliza watched as he assisted Becca into the saddle, noting the way she hooked her leg around the saddle’s front. When Sam came to her, Eliza smiled grimly and stepped onto the mounting block, swinging her leg in what she hoped was the correct manner. To her surprise, she got it on the first try, even if the sitting position was extremely awkward. She looked down to thank Sam, but he was blushing as he averted his eyes.
“Oh, your dress!” Becca burst out, a twinkle in her eyes. “It’s caught up around the pommel!”
Eliza glanced down. She was revealing a great deal of leg. Clothed leg, as she did have stockings on, but leg nonetheless. Who knew such a mild sight could elicit such a reaction in a young man? Like any man in her era would have paid attention. It was actually refreshing, the idea that a clothed leg could cause such a stir. She yanked on the fabric, finally disentangling it.
“Shall we go?”
Eliza looked toward Becca, who was giving her an encouraging grin. “Uh...”
“You’ll be fine. Just hold the reins and Petunia will follow after me. She’ll follow Otto’s lead, so all you have to do is sit and relax, I promise.”
Sure enough, the horse ambled after Becca’s at a slow and easy pace. Well, this isn’t too bad. Eliza clutched the reins, risking a quick peek over her shoulder at the estate. Deveric was somewhere inside. At least she assumed he was; it was possible he was also out riding somewhere.
How long before he noticed she was gone? Would he care? Or would he be relieved that this burden, this distraction, this intrusion into his well-ordered and socially correct life had disappeared?
She chewed the inside of her cheek, thinking of Freddy again. Oh, how she would miss him. She prayed the thawing of the relationship between Deveric and his son would continue, and that the little boy would grow up with all of the love that he deserved, Regency peerage expectations be damned.
She gave a final nod of acknowledgment and turned around again toward Becca, her eyes fixed firmly on the path ahead ... and the future.
“Let’s ride to the pond,” Becca called over her shoulder. “I don’t believe you’ve been there yet, and it’s a beautiful spot.”
“I was hoping to visit the monolith. I’ve never seen one,” Eliza answered, relaxing into the easy rhythm of the horse. How long until my leg cramps from sitting in this weird position, though?
“We will,” Becca promised. “The pond’s not far from the old stones.” As they neared the edge of the woods, she called out, “Hold on to the reins. I’m going to kick Otto into a canter; he’s itching to go faster.”
Eliza gripped the ropes in her hands, her heart racing as Petunia sped up to match the horse in front of her. Trees flew by on the left and right.
“Uh, Becca,” she tried to yell, but the wind ripped her voice from her. We’re not going that fast, she reassured herself as she closed her eyes. Petunia will keep me safe. Petunia will—
A rustling sound came from the right, and Eliza’s eyes flew open in time to see a fox race out from the underbrush, darting across the path in front of her horse. Petunia snorted and threw her head back, catching Eliza by surprise. She dropped the reins and Petunia bolted. Eliza grasped wildly for the reins and then the pommel, seeking something, anything, to keep her secure as she bounced along.
“Eliza!” Becca screamed as a tree branch caught Eliza across the forehead. Her leg wrenched loose from the saddle, and she felt herself falling, falling. The ground rose up to meet her, and everything went dark.
Chapter 35
Deveric rode Lightning hard, pushing them both to their limits—anything to ward off the combustible emotions he so wanted to keep at bay. He didn’t know what to do about the delectable Mrs. James. Honor dictated he not go near her again, not with how the mere sight of her made the blood race in his veins, not with how he wanted to nibble on her ear every time she looked his direction, not with how, no matter how hard he tried, nothing sated the ferocious desire within him to claim her, to possess her, to make her his in all ways.
All ways except one. He couldn’t marry her. He couldn’t. Not only because his mother—and likely the rest of the ton—would never condone it. A duke and a nobody wasn’t done, even if that nobody was allegedly a relation. You could change that, an inner voice insisted. If your family accepted her, everyone else would, too. Surely your mother could make peace with it eventually, especially if she saw you were happy. Couldn’t she?
If that were the only deterrent, he’d have Eliza before the local vicar in an instant.
The image of Eliza, looking up at him with love shimmering in those wide blue eyes as she spoke vo
ws, slammed into his heart, making him grasp his chest with the power of the aching there. He fought to catch his breath. Marry her? Impossible. He wanted her in his bed, no doubt about that, but that was impossible. Just like marrying her was impossible. He’d reaffirmed that last night.
He wouldn’t do that to a woman again, wouldn’t do that to himself again. He couldn’t bear to see the fear in her eyes, couldn’t bear the rejection sure to come when she realized they didn’t fit. He couldn’t hurt her.
And heaven forbid she get pregnant. Deveric’s heart constricted again at the thought of Eliza heavy with child. His child. His mouth went dry at the memory of Mirabelle lying on the bed, the life seeping out of her, her face mingled with Eliza’s face.
He couldn’t. He couldn’t. Better to take her to London, to find her a husband, a different man. Someone who would cherish her, who would love her, who wouldn’t hurt her. Someone who wouldn’t kill her.
He pulled Lightning up short and they both stood there, sides heaving. What was he to do?
A scream rent the air, somewhere ahead of him in the woods. He immediately kicked Lightning into a gallop, racing toward the sound.
“Eliza! Eliza!”
Oh Lord, that was Becca’s voice. And she’s screaming Eliza’s name. What were they doing in the woods? Eliza didn’t ride. She’d told him herself she’d never been on a horse. She was downright scared of them.
He caught sight of Otto ahead and steered Lightning in that direction. As he neared, he could see Becca on the ground, leaning over a prone form. When she heard his approach, she turned to him, terror written all over her face.
The Magic of Love Series Page 53
