by Kit Morgan
“But aside from that,” he went on. “I don’t want you to leave.”
Tory rubbed her temple. Not this again. But before she could comment, Aldrich had tucked a finger under her chin, tilted her face up to his and kissed her. And what a kiss it was!
Chapter Fifteen
Tory couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, and worse, couldn’t stop enjoying his kiss. The thing that happened between them the last time they locked lips was happening again: the unexplainable pull toward him, as if her heart were trying to join with his.
To make things worse – or better, depending – he deepened the kiss. She heard a moan, realized it was her, and tried to pull away.
Aldrich let them come up for air. “Tory,” he rasped. “I’m …”
“If you say you’re sorry I’ll slap you.”
“What?”
“You heard me.” She straightened and glanced around, but the others were nowhere in sight. “Okay, that was …”
Aldrich smiled.
“ … it was nice, I’ll admit it. But you don’t have to look so happy about it.” Truth was, her entire body was still tingling and she wouldn’t mind him kissing her again. At this rate she’d go as crazy as the rest of them!
“Very well, I won’t apologize. But … I will say that I find you the most intriguing woman I have ever met. And the most beautiful …”
“Oh, please, stop.” She held up her hand.
He arched an eyebrow. “You don’t take compliments well, do you? Are all Americans like this?”
“No, they’re …” She stopped when she realized she was trying to push him away. Heaven forbid he actually was falling in love with her. Because that’s what it came down to, didn’t it? A handsome Englishman falling for a girl from the white-trash side of Stockton just didn’t happen. That he was knighted only made the chasm between them wider, deeper, with no bridge in sight. How could this ever work?
He lowered the hand she hadn’t realized was hovering near her chin. “I don’t regret kissing you, Tory, but I can see in your eyes you’re struggling.”
She gaped at him. How did he do that? Well, by looking at her. Duh. She’d always worn her heart on her sleeve. “Can you blame me?”
“No, not at all.” He sat back, stretched his legs out and crossed them at the ankles. “No doubt you think me a cad.”
She laughed. “No, you’re just a guy doing what guys do.”
He looked at her, his brow creased. “I’m a fool when I’m around you and I don’t understand why.”
She folded her arms. “Gee, thanks.”
“No, you don’t understand.” He faced her again. “I can’t explain it. I only know that it’s … growing stronger.”
That got her attention. So he felt it again too? But what should she do about it? She couldn’t deny there was something between them, and she hadn’t a clue what it was.
“Tory,” he said tenderly. It made her heart melt when he used that tone.
She swallowed hard. “I need time to think. This is all too weird, you know?”
He looked into her eyes as if he could read every thought. “If that means you’re confused about your affections toward me, then yes, I do know.” With a heavy sigh he stood.
She felt an odd wrenching as he stepped away. “Where are you going?”
“To find the others. It’s growing late and will be dark soon.” He offered her his hand. “Care to join me?”
She took it and let him pull her to her feet. Probably not the best decision, but she didn’t want to be left in the gardens alone. And, for good or ill, she wanted to be with him.
A minute later they stumbled upon Newton and his wife kissing near a large rose bush. “Oh, my,” Tory whispered and pulled Aldrich behind another bush.
He smiled. “Oh, my indeed.”
She smacked his arm. “Stop that. Let them have their moment.”
“Yes, I suppose so,” he whispered back. “There’s nothing wrong with a husband and wife kissing in the garden.”
She cocked her head at him. “And I suppose that makes us scum for doing the same thing?”
He chuckled low in his throat. “I take full responsibility for my behavior. I’ll endeavor not to let it happen again.”
“Ha!” She poked him in the chest. “It takes two, buddy.” It was all she could do not to giggle at the shock on his face. For one, they were whispering like a couple of teenagers watching other kids make out. For another, she was having fun. “We should find the Cotters.”
“True. But no doubt they’re spending their time similarly.” He nodded at Newton and Arya for emphasis.
“Perhaps you’re right. Should we return, then?”
“And let everyone see us returning to the house alone? I think not. I’ve your reputation to protect.”
“Really? Like you haven’t done enough damage already,” she teased.
He looked at her, his face dead serious. “And thus my offer of marriage.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh, come on, it’s not that big a deal.”
Now his eyes widened. “Have you no thought to the ramifications of what’s happened?”
“Well if that’s the case, then why did you kiss me the first time?”
“Ahem …”
They spun to find Newton and Arya standing beside them. Aldrich put himself between Tory and the couple. As if that would help; they’d probably heard every word. She peeked around him. “Hi there.”
Arya grinned. “Enjoying the garden?”
“Very much so.”
Aldrich glanced over his shoulder at Tory and arched an eyebrow. She stuck her tongue out at him. His other eyebrow went up before he faced the couple again. “We were just … looking for you.”
“We thought it time to return,” Newton said. “Arya is tired and so am I.” He gave his wife a hungry look.
Tired, my foot, Tory thought. They were off to do more than make out. She sighed and crossed her arms again. She had a sudden always a bridesmaid, never a bride moment as her eyes roamed Aldrich’s back and shoulders. My, he was a big fella, wasn’t he? Tall, strong, handsome … and so not her type. She made a face. Did she even have a type?
He turned around. “Shall we …” He saw her expression. “… by Heaven, whatever are you thinking?”
She looked at him and shrugged. “Not a thing. Let’s go.” She let her arms fall to her sides and strolled past him, past Newton and Arya and down the path. The image of her standing at the altar next to Aldrich had popped into her head and now it wouldn’t go away. The thought would have been pleasant if not for all the other craziness going on. The only thing that wasn’t made up in this loony bin was the strange something that happened each time she and Aldrich kissed. That couldn’t be faked or playacted.
Figures, Tory groused. The only “real” thing about this place just happened to also be the one thing that scared her to death.
The Stantham estate, present day …
“Well, did you catch them?”
Melvale removed his motorcycle helmet, wisps of long hair escaping a hastily tied ponytail. “I found the van, but there was no sign of the driver or his associate.” He faced her. “What did they look like?”
Kitty frowned. “The guy at the door was about medium height – five-nine, maybe? Short dark hair, some grey at the temples, blue eyes, kinda pudgy. The guy standing next to the van was taller, and … well, familiar.”
“Familiar? How?” Melvale took off his jacket.
It was all Kitty could do not to stare at the man’s incredible physique. Incredible alien physique, but who cared? He could be compatible with someone like her, couldn’t he? “Um … I don’t know, but I swear I’ve seen him before.”
“Hmmm.” He dropped two octaves on that syllable. She’d heard Melvale do it often enough to know he was considering at least twenty different things at once. If he were human, he’d be a bonafide genius. She wasn’t sure where on the intelligence scale he was for his own race. “We’re go
ing to need some help.”
“What kind of help?”
“For one, we’re going to have to warn the Time Master, and Duncan Cooke. If they traced Duncan here, it’s only a matter of time before they figure out he’s somewhere else. Of course, they’ll have to narrow down the century first, then the decade, the year and so on. So we have some time …”
“They can do that?”
“No, but a Muiraran can.”
“What?” she said as a chill went up her spine. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying, Miss Morgan, that we have a problem.” He tossed the helmet at her.
She caught it and began to follow him. “Omigosh, omigosh, omigawwwsh! No!”
He spun to face her with the most intense look she’d ever seen out of him. Some of her human counterparts called him a pointy-eared dandy, but right now he was anything but. “He must be behind this.”
“He?” she squeaked.
Melvale headed off again, tossing the jacket behind him. She caught that too. “Who would gain the most by tracking down and eliminating Duncan Cooke and his wife, Miss Morgan? Think!”
“But he’s dead! How could that creep be behind anything?”
Melvale stopped again. “He’s dead today, in this … ficton, you call it? But think of what time is.”
“A … big ball of wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey stuff?” When Kitty was brought into the Muirarans’ scheme, they recommended she watch every episode of Doctor Who from Doctors Nine through Fifteen to get a feel for how time travel worked. Turns out several Muirarans in hiding (or in exile) had written or would write for the program.
“More or less. You need to treat time as its own dimension, and step outside that dimension – like looking at Earth from the Moon rather than from a road map,” he reminded her. “While Dallan is trying to fix the mess Philip Brennan left behind, traveling through time to recreate a gene pool, it’s very possible for him to run across Brennan.”
“But the chances are so slim!”
Melvale reached the back hall and trotted down the stairs to the kitchen below. “Why would you think that? The Time Master is going to a lot of the same fictons Brennan did, or ones nearby – he has to, to keep the damage from spreading.”
Kitty stopped dead in the middle of the staircase. “Oh. My. Gosh.”
Melvale, at the bottom of the stairs, turned to her. “Good, you’re getting the idea.”
“No, no.” She shook her head as a tear trickled down her cheek. “Now I remember – I’ve seen the other guy before.”
Melvale climbed the stairs two at a time to reach her. “Where?”
Her lower jaw trembled. “The library, when Dallan and Shona were still bonding. We came out of the building, and Shona’s mom, dad and some others were waiting for us. They were all going to dinner with Brennan, and there was some guy with him. After Shona got into the car, he spoke to the guy, and the guy got into another car behind them …” She wiped the tear away. All of it happened months ago, at least for her, and still scared the daylights out of her.
Melvale’s eyes narrowed. “And?”
“That’s all I remember. But the guy next to the van today and the one Philip Brennan talked to … I think they’re the same guy.”
Melvale looked into her eyes a moment. Everything went incredibly still and she felt her breathing stop. “Then he was one of two people,” he said softly. He turned without warning and headed down the stairs again.
Kitty stood a moment, unable to move. He’d done something to calm her, but she had no idea what. Whatever it was, it worked. She headed downstairs after him. “Wait! What now?”
“What you just told me took place in June 1995,” Melvale called from farther down. “Which means …”
“… The guy had to have time-traveled here!” she finished, following him into the kitchen. “What are we going to do? We’re just housesitting!”
“Not anymore we’re not. First, we inform those assigned to watch the estate that we’ll be leaving. Then we have to find a way to warn the others.”
“Dallan and Shona?”
“And Duncan and Cozette. If my guess is right, your delivery men might not know about Miss Phelps and Sir Aldrich yet.”
“What?”
“Those men coming to the door today – that has already happened. We just happened to be here this time.”
“You think so? But if they’re really after Victoria and Aldrich …”
“… and discover them with Duncan and Cozette, they might kill all four. It depends on a number of factors.”
Kitty gasped, her hands to her mouth as her mind raced. “How could this have already happened? It makes no sense if Philip died in ’95 … oh, right. He’s gotten around.”
“Precisely. And we know there are points where Brennan has tried to kill Duncan and take Cozette.”
“But what does it mean?”
“Someone might have been working with Brennan and is still out there doing his dirty work, eliminating compatible bloodlines.” He turned to her. “It is only one scenario, Miss Morgan. There are others. But regardless, we still have the same job to do. We must warn them.”
“How do we do that? They’re in 1880, we’re here …”
Melvale sighed. “Obviously, we need a Time Master.”
Tory tossed and turned but couldn’t get to sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, if she didn’t feel Aldrich’s lips on hers, her mind conjured up a wedding – their wedding. But she wasn’t so stupid as to let her infatuation get the best of her.
It was just infatuation, wasn’t it? Surely she wasn’t falling in love? Why, that would be ridiculous … wouldn’t it?
She sat up and looked around the darkened room. “I need a snack.” Food always did help her sleep. She tossed back the covers, got out of bed and put on her robe. After finding her slippers, she left her room and stood in the darkened hall. She hadn’t been through the house this late before. What she wouldn’t give for a flashlight. Thankfully moonlight shone through parts of the elaborate stained-glass window of the staircase landing. It was enough.
She made it to the first floor and between the moonlight and a few turned-low gas lamps, she got to the kitchen – only to find Aldrich, a sandwich in his hand. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Tory. What are you doing here?”
“Wishing I had the money to buy a lottery ticket. What are the chances?”
“You say the oddest things.” He held up the sandwich. “Hungry?”
She sighed. “It’s why I’m here.”
He smiled. “Can’t sleep either?”
She went to the worktable where he’d made a mess of the simple chore. “No.” She looked at the bread, ham and a few Victorian-era condiments spread out on the table. “Man, you’ve been a bachelor a long time, haven’t you?”
“All my life,” he quipped. “Did I mention I employ a cook?”
“Maybe, I don’t remember.”
He smiled. “I’m happy to share what I’ve made, such as it is. You don’t need to make your own.” He set the sandwich on a plate, picked up a knife and sliced it in half, then went to a hutch for another plate.
“We could have just used yours.”
“Nonsense.” He set the plate down and put her half on it. “Here.”
She let him shove it to her. “Thanks.” She took a bite. “Mmm, not bad for bachelor-made.”
“A true miracle.” He took a bite of his half, and they ate in silence for a moment. He must be as surprised to see her as she was him. But here they were, alone, in a dimly lit Victorian kitchen sharing a ham sandwich and doing their darn best not to look at each other. Well, she was. Aldrich was staring at her as he chewed.
Good thing there was a table separating them – he looked mighty handsome right now. He hadn’t put on his bedclothes yet, and she suddenly realized she was in hers. But she did have a robe on – that had to count for something – and weren’t they off duty at the moment?
&nbs
p; Tory met his gaze, noticed how slowly he chewed, his eyes telling her he wanted something more than food. Yet there was something more she’d never seen before. She knew she was pretty – enough guys had made passes at her. But Aldrich wasn’t the kind of guy to do that. As far as she knew, he was every bit the gentleman he was portraying, with the exception of a few kisses. Wonderful kisses. Real ones.
Her heart sank at the thought. Was the thing that drove those kisses real too? Were his feelings genuine, or was he just a really good actor?
“Tory …”
“Oh, great, here we go,” she muttered.
“No,” he said with a gentle smile. “I wasn’t going to say what you think I was.”
She stared at him with a pang of guilt. “Oh?”
He licked some mustard from the corner of his mouth. It was one of the sexiest things she’d ever seen. “Would you do me the honor of allowing me the first dance?”
She blinked a few times. “What?”
“At the ball. I’d like the first dance with you.”
“Oh, that …” She nodded and smiled. “So I can step on your toes first? That’s good. At least I know you.”
He laughed. “You are adorable.”
She shrugged and took another bite of her sandwich. She had a comeback, but it wouldn’t come out. There was no teasing in his voice – he was stating what to him was a simple fact.
“You’re so much more, you know. Or do you?”
She lowered her sandwich. “Let’s not go there.”
“Why not? Tory, you’re a beautiful young woman with a fire and spark I’ve never seen before.” He sighed. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you don’t know who you are.”
That stung. Mainly because he was probably right. She’d been too busy trying to survive all these years, which didn’t leave much time for self-reflection, and until recently she hadn’t much cared what other people thought. She had her standards, and what she thought was a good moral compass. But as to who she was? She stared at him like a stupefied child.
“You’re no wilting flower, that’s for certain,” he said gently. “I wager if you were a man, you’d have been knighted.”
