Timeless (A Time Travel Romance)

by Jasmine Cresswell

  She heard the snapping of branches and rustle of undergrowth almost at the same instant as rough hands reached out and grabbed her arms.

  “Don’t ‘ee try to run,” growled a harsh voice behind her. An arm, covered in coarse serge, wrapped roughly around her throat.

  “The captain’s been a-waitin’ for ‘ee,” said another voice, dragging her off the tree stump and propelling her backward into the woods.

  Robyn went hot and then cold with sheer terror, not for herself but for Zach. She scarcely felt the overhanging branches that caught at her hood and tore it from her head. “Don’t hurt my baby!” She tightened her hold on Zach’s tiny body, and he started to cry, thin, anxious cries that ate at her soul.

  “Babby?” She heard the astonishment in the first man’s gruff voice, and his hold around her throat slackened as he spun her around. “‘Struth, her does have a babby. What for did ‘ee bring a babby?”

  “Don’t matter none,” said the other, leaning forward to see the child. His stinking breath wafted so close to Robyn’s nose that she almost threw up. “We was told to bring all marauders to the captain. She do be a marauder. ‘Tain’t for us to worry about babbies or no babbies.”

  Zach’s cries had changed from fearful to a steady roar of frustration at his interrupted meal. As best she could with her neck held in a stranglehold, Robyn jiggled him up and down and made soothing noises. “Where are you taking me?” she asked, fighting back her fear. “What do you want?”

  “The captain got word as ‘ow a most treacherous traitor was making a run for the coast tonight. We’re to bring in all persons found lurkin’ outside after curfew.”

  “But you’re trespassing on private property!” Robyn protested. “You can’t impose a curfew on private land. These woods belong to the Baron of Starke!”

  “Dook o’ Cumberland’s direct orders,” the man said, sounding pleased with himself. “Signed and sealed with ‘is royal seal, then delivered personal to Captain Bretton. Ain’t no treacherous Stuart rebels goin’ to escape to France while Captain Bretton is on duty and a-helpin’ the dook.”

  “Captain Bretton?” Robyn said.

  “Aye. Don’t pretend you don’t know about ‘im. An important man is Captain Bretton in these parts. He’s in charge of military security for the whole of Dorsetshire, the captain is.”

  The men didn’t lead her far into the forest. After two or three minutes of dragging her along, they came to a small clearing, sheltered from the rain by the overhanging branches of a giant oak tree. The stockier and dirtier of her two captors propelled her forward and drew himself up into a smart salute. “Here you are, sir, Captain Bretton. We caught her lurkin’ on the edge of the woods, just like you said.”

  “Her? You have brought me a woman? I trust you are not wasting my time bringing in some serving wench out on a tryst.” A man stepped out from the shadowy darkness of the oak tree and glanced toward Robyn. He drew in a sharp, angry breath. “My God, unhand her ladyship this instant! That is the Lady Arabella Bowleigh, you idiots.”

  Her captors dropped Robyn’s arms and jumped back as if they’d been scalded. The captain swept into a deep bow. “My lady, forgive these doltish soldiers, I beg. I extend my most heartfelt apologies for the behavior of the clods who dared to lay hands upon you. The troops I have serving under me are not yet as well trained as I would wish.”

  Robyn said nothing, but she took advantage of her renewed freedom to pull the cloak tightly across her breasts, concealing both the gaping front of her gown and baby Zach. As the captain straightened from his bow, she saw that he was about thirty-five years old and had light brown hair tied and secured in a black velvet bag at the nape of his neck. His features were well formed but unremarkable, at least insofar as she could discern by moonlight. He was wearing a uniform consisting of scarlet, gold-frogged jacket and white leather knee breeches, topped by a swinging shoulder cape in heavy gray wool. The outfit looked as if it had been loaned straight out of a museum specializing in military costumes of the American Revolution.

  “You are silent, my lady.” The captain’s voice was still unctuous, and Robyn wondered if she was imagining the hint of menace she detected in his body language. “I trust you have not been alarmed beyond the point of speech?”

  “No.”

  The captain smiled and Robyn knew she hadn’t imagined the threat that this man posed to her. He bent his head in another half bow. “I am relieved that your ladyship retains the power of speech, because my duty compels me to ask for an accounting of your actions this evening. Mayhap, my lady, you would be good enough to explain why you are strolling the grounds of Starke Manor on such a damp and unpleasant night?”

  “No,” Robyn said, deciding that she definitely didn’t like the captain and anyway couldn’t think of any explanation she could give that he was likely to accept.

  “I beg your ladyship’s pardon? I believe I have not heard you aright.”

  “I said that I have no desire to explain to you why I choose to walk in the grounds of my own home. By what right do you inquire?”

  “I ask by right of the personal warrant of His Royal Highness, the Duke of Cumberland,” the captain said. He clicked his fingers at the two gawking soldiers. “Be off about your duties, the pair of you. And next time you report back to me, make sure you bring a Stuart rebel with you, not a lady of impeccable loyalist reputation.”

  “Yessir!” The soldiers saluted in unison and marched smartly out of the clearing. When the sound of their footsteps had faded, the captain visibly relaxed. “Good. Now we can take our ease and speak to each other freely. You understand that I needed to keep up appearances in front of my men.” He gave her a wide, warm smile that he probably intended to be reassuring. Robyn found it about as reassuring as seeing a snake slither toward her, holding a rosy red apple in its rapacious jaws.

  “I trust that you are recovered from your recent ordeal in childbed,” the captain continued. “The child, I heard, was a boy.”

  “Yes.”

  The captain’s smile took on a faint edge of cruelty. “What a splendid gift for your husband! Blood of his blood, flesh of his flesh. The baron must be delighted that he now has three healthy sons to secure the succession to his lands and titles.”

  The heavy sarcasm was unmistakable and Robyn’s cheeks flamed, although why she felt so angry on William’s behalf she couldn’t have explained. “Yes, my husband is delighted at the happy outcome. Our son is strong and healthy, and the very image of the baron.”

  “How wonderfully—convenient,” the captain murmured, his voice still derisive. “Fortune rarely fails to smile on you, my lady. I have always said that.”

  “I see nothing fortunate in the fact that my son looks exactly like his father.”

  The captain shot her an assessing, sideways gaze. She noticed, however, that he made not the slightest move to look at the baby, even though Zach chose that moment to give a subdued cry.

  “You must be fatigued, my lady, after your long walk.” The captain reached out and placed his hand beneath her elbow, managing to make the simple action lascivious in the extreme. He reached inside her cloak, found her hand, and raised it to his lips. Robyn was immensely grateful for the fur-lined leather gloves separating her skin from his mouth.

  The captain leaned closer. “Pray rest against me, my lady. I regret most sincerely that I cannot offer you a seat.”

  “I prefer to stand.” Robyn disengaged her hand from his clasp with a determined tug and stepped back, feeling better once there were two or three feet of space between them.

  His smile faded. “I cannot help but remark, dear Arabella, that your manner lacks much of its customary warmth and charm. I trust that your aloofness doesn’t mean you have decided to renege on our bargain.”

  She looked at him coldly. “I cannot imagine what bargain you refer to.”

  The captain frowned. “I am not a man who enjoys being trifled with, my lady. My plans have been laid counting on your co
operation. I hope I have not been mistaken in believing that you are indeed my true... friend.”

  Robyn looked at the captain’s saber, its blade gleaming in the moonlight, and decided this was not the best moment to tell the slithery reptile to go to hell. “I am always a true friend to people who are worthy of my friendship,” she said.

  The captain did not appear to suspect subtlety from her. His smile broadened. “Thank you, my dear lady, that is good to hear. Over the past few months I have appreciated the generosity of your... friendship, which has provided many happy hours for both of us, I do believe.”

  “Friendship usually brings happiness.”

  The captain bowed, appearing impressed by her trite remark. “How true! And of course I have been honored by your many confidences, and the opportunities you have given me to lighten the load you bear as the neglected wife of a brutal husband. As you know, I sympathize most heartily with the difficulties of your position. The harshness of your husband’s treatment of you cannot help but be devastating to a soul as sensitive and delicate as yours—”

  “What has my husband done that was so brutal?”

  The captain stared at her. “My dear Arabella, now is perhaps not the time or the place to probe into old wounds—”

  “How long have I known you, Captain Bretton?”

  “Our acquaintance stretches back many years. Our... intimacy... also has a long history—”

  “That figures,” Robyn muttered. “I should have known Arabella’s taste in men would be long-term lousy.”

  The captain edged away from her, his expression becoming uneasy. He cleared his throat, drumming his fingers against the shining buckle of his belt. “My lady, much as I regret the necessity, I am obliged to inform you that our... close... personal ties cannot be allowed to interfere with my duties as the Duke of Cumberland’s personal representative in the shire of Dorset. I must ask that you answer me honestly and completely. Why did you leave Starke Manor tonight, knowing full well that a curfew has been imposed and that rumors continue to circulate that your brother-in-law is hidden somewhere within the grounds of Starke Manor?”

  Her brother-in-law. The captain must mean Zachary, William’s younger brother. And if she had correctly understood the conversation she overheard at the stables, Zachary had rebelled against King George by fighting in the army of Bonnie Prince Charlie, the Stuart pretender to the throne. Robyn knew from her college history courses that the prince had been catastrophically defeated at the battle of Culloden, and she remembered reading that King George’s younger son, the Duke of Cumberland, had been given the task of cleaning up the ragtag survivors of the rebellion. The duke had set about systematically starving the Scottish highlanders who supported the Stuart cause, and executing or jailing every rebel who managed to flee Scotland and escape south. His punishments were so harsh that he quickly earned himself the nickname Butcher Cumberland, and his ruthlessness was despised even by supporters of the House of Hanover. As a nation, the eighteenth-century Britishers were already firm believers in the virtues of restraint and moderation.

  Robyn thought rapidly. Everything she knew about William suggested that he was a staunch supporter of the Hanoverians, and ruthlessly indifferent to his brother’s fate. In the circumstances, it seemed unlikely that Zachary would try to find refuge in the grounds of Starke Manor. He must know how his brother felt about him, and how fiercely William rejected the Stuart cause. And without William’s support, who on the estate would dare to feed Zachary, or provide warm clothes as winter closed in? All in all, Robyn decided there was virtually no chance that Zachary was hiding anywhere near Starke, but on the slim chance that he was, she made her expression as vague and confused as she could. She didn’t know Zachary, of course, but she had no desire to help a pompous lecher like Captain Bretton in his pursuit of hapless Stuart rebels.

  Robyn shook her head, hoping she appeared somewhere between coy and bewildered. “I would certainly like us to continue as friends, Captain Bretton, but why are you questioning me about these rumors? I had no idea a curfew had been imposed. In fact, I have no idea why you would ask me about Zachary.”

  “Then let me make my meaning quite clear, Lady Arab—”

  A familiar voice spoke from behind Robyn’s shoulders, cool, courteous, and laced with subtle mockery. “Why do you harass a senseless woman with questions she cannot answer, Captain Bretton? Have you not heard that her ladyship suffered a terrible carriage accident and that her wits have entirely left her?”

  “My lord!” Captain Bretton stiffened, then executed a curt bow. “My lord, I did not hear you approach.”

  “Did you not? I made no secret of my presence. I and many of my servants have been out searching for the Lady Arabella this past hour and more. We were extremely alarmed to discover that she and my infant son were both missing. I have ordered search parties with horses and hounds spread out in all directions.”

  The captain’s mouth tightened with barely concealed fury. “I see you have been very clever, my lord. I should not have underestimated you.”

  William inclined his head. “It is never wise to underestimate an adversary, but alas, Captain, I fear I do not grasp your meaning. I see no cleverness in the tragic loss of my wife’s mental powers.”

  “It is true, then? Your wife is not in full possession of her wits?”

  “Why else would she roam the grounds of Starke Manor in a downpour of bitterly cold November rain?”

  The captain turned to Robyn, his gaze speculative. “I had heard stories,” he admitted. “Dr. Perrick has a tongue looser than an old woman’s and he had half the village convinced that your lady wife was possessed.”

  “You, of course, are too sophisticated to be deceived by the ignorant superstitions of a country doctor.”

  “Er... yes. Yes, of course.”

  William smiled blandly. “She is not possessed, but neither is she the woman you once knew. Her memory is sadly impaired.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes, alas, she cannot be relied upon to hold to any of her previous commitments. However, I have sent to London for Dr. Woolstone, who considered the leading physician in the care of head injuries such as Lady Arabella has sustained. We have exchanged letters, the doctor and I, and he is optimistic that my wife will eventually return to all her former robust health, mental as well as physical.”

  “It is an outcome devoutly to be wished,” the captain said tightly.

  “Indeed it is.” William placed his arm around Robyn’s waist. “It will be so—awkward—for all of us if the Lady Arabella fails to regain her wits, will it not?”

  “For you, my lord, I believe it might even be—dangerous.”

  “No, how can you say so?” William smiled blandly at the Captain. When he received no reply, he turned back to Robyn. “Come, my lady. I believe it is time for us to return home.”

  His voice was mild, his touch gentle, and yet Robyn could sense that he was furiously angry. She was tired and wet enough that she didn’t care. The prospect of returning to Starke Manor sounded wonderful, even if it did mean facing up to William’s wrath.

  “Did you bring a carriage?” she asked in a small voice.

  “Wait a moment!” Captain Bretton spoke peremptorily. “Before you leave, my lord, I think you should know that there are other interesting tales circulating in the village, not merely gossip about your lady wife. Only yesterday, for example, I heard that three Stuart rebels hidden on your property are hoping to make a run for Poole harbor this very night.”

  William looked at the captain, his gaze cold. “You should not believe every piece of idle chatter you overhear at the Dog and Kettle, sir. There can be no rebels hidden on my property without my knowledge, and as you apprehend full well, I am a faithful supporter of King George and the Hanoverians. I believe there has never been any reason to question my loyal service to His Majesty. The barons of Starke take pride in the quality of service they offer their country.”

  The capta
in’s face flushed dark red. “Nobly spoken, my lord, but we have been acquainted for many years, and we both know full well that you have spent a lifetime protecting your brother from the consequences of his own folly. You would move heaven and earth to save Zachary Bowleigh from suffering the punishment he deserves. Until I see your brother’s body at my feet, I will not believe he is dead, nor will I abandon my efforts to arrest him and bring him to justice.”

  “That is your choice, sir, but if you persist in looking for Zachary on my property, I fear you are destined to spend many more fruitless nights standing under a wet oak tree, waiting for an escape that will not take place.”

  William’s hold on Robyn’s waist tightened. “Come, my lady, you are shivering with the cold. It is past time for us to leave here.”

  Robyn turned within William’s arms, instinctively resting her head on his shoulder as she submitted to his command. For a few blissful seconds, relief flooded through her at the prospect of returning to the warmth and security of Starke Manor. Home. William had come to take her home. He would make her feel safe again. Safe from the baneful Captain Bretton.

  The thought had scarcely formed when the enormity of it struck her with full force. Fear washed over her in a huge tidal wave. She tore herself out of William’s arms, holding Zach crushed against her body as if he were some sort of talisman against the onrush of terror. Her muscles stiffened, then started to tremble, as the horrific, mind-blowing truth washed over her.

  “Arabella, what is it?” William turned to her and she cried out, her voice high-pitched with panic.

  “No, go back! Don’t come near me!”

  “My dear, what ails you? Come, let me assist you—” He pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders, tucking a sodden strand of hair under the hood.

  “I have to get out of this place,” she said, her teeth chattering with shock. When had she started to feel that William was her protector? When had she started to think of Starke Manor as her home? She tugged at his hand, pleading with him to understand. “Take me to the gates, William. I have to get to the gates where I had my accident.”