Yesterday and Forever

by Victoria Alexander

  "I believe I owe you an apology." She smiled. "You definitely have a romantic soul. And you may not be nearly as stuffy as I thought."

  "Thank you, Miss Masterson . . . Maggie." He returned her smile and bowed elegantly.

  Maggie closed the library doors and collapsed against them. She needed to catch her breath. A good general knew when to retreat as well as advance and this skirmish was lost. Those last few moments alone were a major battle in self-control. Now desire and frustrated passion left her weak and trembling.

  A relationship with Adam would end in disaster. She didn't want to go home and leave her heart behind. But then, a small voice nagged; maybe she should stop fighting because maybe it was already too late. And, the voice continued relentlessly, maybe what she'd find with Adam, even for a short time, would be worth the price.

  Another line from Shakespeare flashed through her mind. Not from Romeo and Juliet but tailor-made for this situation. She muttered under her breath and headed for the stairs.

  " ‘Lord, what fools these mortals be.’ "

  ***

  Adam swirled the brandy in his glass and contemplated the door Maggie had walked through moments before. He imagined she stood on the other side of that door, trying to regain control. Adam chuckled softly and sipped the liquor. She tried so very hard to conceal the effect he had on her but it was clearly a charade. He grinned with satisfaction. Not romantic? Stuffy? Ha!

  Adam had enjoyed tonight, enjoyed the game, the challenge, and especially the triumph. There were no doubts that he indeed came out the winner. And winners did not give up their prize.

  He knew not when it happened, but somewhere between this morning and the moment Maggie walked out tonight, his feelings crystallized, evolved from simple passion and desire to . . . what?

  Love?

  Adam didn't know and didn't care. He had vast experience with women, but love?

  Never.

  He only knew a woman had never enchanted him like this. Miss Margaret Masterson suited him and he would not give her up.

  Adam wanted Maggie in his bed and in his life, permanently. He merely had to wait until she realized she wanted it as well. Then he would move heaven and earth, and old men in carriages, and time itself to keep her by his side and in his world.

  Forever.

  Chapter Seven

  Maggie breezed into the breakfast room with an air of serenity that belied her conflicting emotions. All night she'd tossed and turned, her mind replaying vivid images of Adam's touch, Adam's kiss. The feelings he aroused confused her. Men in her life were few and far between, but it wasn't as if she was an innocent, blushing virgin. She'd known desire before, even imagined herself in love.

  But for whatever reason, this seemed different. Adam affected her senses far more intensely than any man.

  Ever.

  One look from him melted something at the very core of her being. One touch of his hand left her trembling. One kiss . . .

  Her heart told her to go for it. Enjoy what she could and if she fell in love, well, she'd deal with that when it happened.

  But a highly protective, annoyingly sensible voice inside screamed any involvement with Adam, physical or emotional, carried a real risk of heartbreak. Through the long, sleepless night Maggie had debated the question.

  Was it a risk worth taking?

  She peered around the room, disappointed not to find Adam. Only Lydia sat at the table, going through a stack of what looked like mail. She glanced up with a welcoming smile. "Good morning."

  "Hi." Maggie took a plate from the sideboard, selecting from the vast array of breakfast fare. The food here tasted far better than she was used to, richer somehow. Of course these people had never heard of cholesterol or calories. If she didn't watch out, she'd go home the size of a small elephant. She reluctantly passed on the more tempting—and fattening—items.

  Carrying her meagerly filled plate, Maggie settled in the chair next to Lydia. Curiously she glanced at the correspondence. "What are you doing?"

  Lydia leaned back with a sigh. “Invitations are coming in from everywhere for balls, soirees, card parties, dinner parties. I am having a difficult time deciding which we shall attend."

  "We?" Caution tinged Maggie's tone.

  "Of course." Lydia arched an eyebrow in a manner suspiciously like Adam's. Was that some kind of irritating family trait? “It is past time you began accompanying us. You simply cannot remain hidden here. Most of the clothes we ordered have been delivered and you no longer have any excuse for begging off. Besides, the entire ton is buzzing with questions about the beautiful American relation Adam carried through the park the other day."

  "Oh, that's swell." Maggie groaned. "You mean I'm already the subject of gossip?"

  Lydia nodded serenely.

  "But I thought the idea was to keep my presence low-key. How can I do that if all these society types are watching me?"

  "You shall do fine," Lydia said confidently. "It's not as if you will be alone. Adam and I will be at your side every minute."

  "I don't think I'm ready for this," Maggie said. "You told me there are all the ridiculous rules you people have. I'll never be able to keep them straight."

  Lydia brushed aside her objections. “It's not that complicated." Her eyes twinkled. "Besides, there are so many things one can't do it's fairly easy to remember the few one can.”

  Maggie stared, too horrified to realize Lydia was joking. How could she possibly get through the kind of formal affairs people in this era attended routinely?

  “Adam will be meeting us shortly in the ballroom to teach you to waltz." Lydia turned her attention back to the stack of invitations.

  Maggie sighed, her moment of panic giving way to reluctant acceptance. Maybe she could handle it with the right help and the right teacher. It didn't look as if she had much of a choice.

  ***

  Maggie faced Adam in the center of the modest ballroom. Lydia sat off to one side at what she called a pianoforte. To Maggie, it looked pretty much like the pianos of her time, maybe a bit smaller. It was reassuring to note music was one thing that transcended time.

  Maggie gazed up at Adam with delight. He really was tall. She'd noticed his height earlier, how he always seemed to be towering above her. But some flaring emotion usually prevented her from paying any attention to something as mundane as height, at least in their encounters so far. At five feet, four inches, Maggie was used to being on the short side, used to looking up at most men. Adam was a good ten inches taller. And tall men brought out the best—or was it the worst?—in her.

  Adam's already familiar smile of amusement played on his lips. "Are you quite ready?"

  "I suppose." She drew a deep, nervous breath. “What's first?"

  "Do you know nothing at all about dancing?" An eyebrow rose in surprise.

  “Of course I do. I'm not stupid." Maggie bristled at his condescending attitude. "I'll have you know my mother made me take ballroom dancing when I was a kid."

  "And that was . . . how long ago?" The smile widened into a definite grin.

  "Don't be so smug. I'm just not used to this. I'd like to see how you'd do dumped in a totally new environment."

  The defense of her lack of social skills seemed a source of incredible amusement to him. Annoyed, Maggie made a concerted effort to stay calm. "But I've always been a fast learner, so let's get going."

  "My pleasure."

  "I'll bet," she muttered under her breath.

  The infuriating grin still plastered on his face, Adam nodded to Lydia to begin playing. He took Maggie's right hand in his left. Placing his other hand firmly on the small of her back, he pulled her tight.

  Very tight.

  "Are we supposed to be this close?" She gasped, knowing full well her shortness of breath had little to do with his tight grasp, and everything to do with the pressure of his hard, firm body against hers.

  "Yes." He gazed into her eyes and she lost herself in the excitement they promised, the
desire they revealed. Swept away on a tide of nerve-tingling anticipation, Maggie barely noticed Adam sweeping her off her feet literally as well.

  "You are doing far better than I expected," he said, a note of approval in his voice.

  "What?" Jerked back to reality, Maggie promptly stumbled, stopping them both in their tracks. "Sorry."

  What was wrong with her? Every time she looked into this man's eyes, every time he touched her, she turned positively worthless. If this kept up she wouldn't need to worry about any kind of involvement with him. She'd simply melt into a small puddle at his feet and that would be that.

  Squaring her shoulders and taking another deep breath, she glared up at him. The amused, vaguely superior expression she found so irritating remained on his face, almost as if . . .

  He couldn't possibly know what she was thinking. Or what happened to her when he came within twenty feet.

  Could he?

  "Shall we continue?" He drew her into his arms once again.

  Maggie nodded and concentrated on following his lead and listening to Lydia's music. She caught on quickly and in no time waltzed with Adam as easily as if they'd danced together all their lives.

  Her confidence grew and she relaxed, turning her attention toward the man holding her securely in his arms. She promised herself that this time he wouldn't get the upper hand.

  "So how am I doing?" She tilted her face toward his.

  "Excellent." Adam smiled and tightened his already firm grip.

  He had not held her like this before, and he found the feel of her supple body against his delicious beyond all expectation. Hard-pressed to continue the lesson, he reveled in the scent of her hair, the delicate placement of her hand in his, the remarkable sensation of her breasts brushing against his chest.

  He longed to reach down and nuzzle the sensitive point on her neck, savor the taste of her skin beneath his lips. Beyond all reason, he wanted to sweep her into his arms and carry her to the nearest secluded spot. To hell with waiting for her to burn as hotly for him as he wanted—no—needed. As he whirled her around the dance floor, her eyes darkened, their emerald tone deepening to the color of a forest glade.

  He had seen that color before. He would not have to wait long.

  Maggie tossed her head back and laughed with the sheer exhilaration of flying across the room in Adam's arms. In the grip of a sensation nearly as powerful as his touch, Maggie marveled that women ever let the art of waltzing escape them. Granted, the dance was not really suited to social functions of the late twentieth century. But, oh, what a glorious feeling. Her dress swirled around her ankles. Her feet barely skimmed the floor.

  Adam executed a particularly intricate move and Maggie followed his lead effortlessly.

  "Very good," he murmured, appreciation glowing in his eyes.

  "Thanks." Satisfaction rang in her voice. "I told you I was a fast learner. I'm a natural at stuff like this."

  "A natural?"

  Laughter bubbled from her lips. "Some things just come easy, naturally, like dancing."

  "What else comes naturally?" Adam stared down at her, his face the picture of innocence.

  "All kinds _of things." Maggie tossed off the words lightly, but her glance dared him to go on.

  "Indeed," he responded softly, his voice a caress, sending chills of anticipation up her spine. "Can you be more explicit?"

  Her eyes locked with his. Drawn into their velvety depths, she read acknowledgment of her dare, and acceptance. She laughed with delight and confidence.

  Maggie conceded last night's defeat but she wouldn't lose round two.

  She wouldn't let her emotions carry her away. She wouldn't fall in love. And as much fun as verbally fencing with him was, right now perhaps discretion really was the better part of valor and a change of subject was in order.

  "Have you thought any more about my little problem?"

  "Problem?" He looked perplexed.

  "You remember? I'm not from around here."

  "Oh, of course." Comprehension dawned on his face. "I have thought of little else but you. And of course your problem."

  Was it her or did everything he said have a double meaning? “And . . .”

  "I have considered your conclusions." An amused smile played on his lips and he looked down at her. “But let us take your assumptions a little further, shall we? For the sake of argument, say the reason you came here in the first place was because this is where you ultimately belong. You were fated, destined, to come here. This is, if you'll forgive the expression, your future."

  Startled by his suggestion, she stared. "I hadn't thought of that."

  "Well, perhaps it is something you should think about." He abruptly seemed far more serious and intense. His eyes darkened with meaning that sent desire rippling through her. Once again she abandoned herself to the music and the movement and the man.

  If not for the circumstances, if this were her own time and place, she might not ignore the tiny voice inside whispering that perhaps this was indeed her fate. That Adam, perhaps, in all the world, in all of time itself, was the one man right for her.

  But it wasn't different.

  In spite of their discussion of rules and her future, Maggie's belief that she didn't belong here and would be leaving stayed firm. She was a twentieth-century woman with all the baggage that entailed, including independence and a sense of equality as well as a definite need for panty hose, television, and microwaves. There was no way she was fated to live her life in a place where indoor plumbing was considered up-to-date.

  As for Adam, she wanted him and didn't doubt he wanted her as well. There wasn't anything wrong with that. Not for a woman of the 1990s. But in spite of her thoroughly modern ideas could she really have Adam on those terms? No emotions, no commitments, just enjoy the moment? Could she handle it?

  This wouldn't be an easy game to play. The stakes were high.

  For Maggie, defeat meant losing her heart.

  Forever.

  Chapter Eight

  Maggie breezed into the breakfast room with an air of serenity that belied her conflicting emotions. All night she'd tossed and turned, her mind replaying vivid images of Adam's touch, Adam's kiss. The feelings he aroused confused her. Men in her life were few and far between, but it wasn't as if she was an innocent, blushing virgin. She'd known desire before, even imagined herself in love.

  But for whatever reason, this seemed different. Adam affected her senses far more intensely than any man.

  Ever.

  One look from him melted something at the very core of her being. One touch of his hand left her trembling. One kiss . . .

  Her heart told her to go for it. Enjoy what she could and if she fell in love, well, she'd deal with that when it happened.

  But a highly protective, annoyingly sensible voice inside screamed any involvement with Adam, physical or emotional, carried a real risk of heartbreak. Through the long, sleepless night Maggie had debated the question.

  Was it a risk worth taking?

  She peered around the room, disappointed not to find Adam. Only Lydia sat at the table, going through a stack of what looked like mail. She glanced up with a welcoming smile. "Good morning."

  "Hi." Maggie took a plate from the sideboard, selecting from the vast array of breakfast fare. The food here tasted far better than she was used to, richer somehow. Of course these people had never heard of cholesterol or calories. If she didn't watch out, she'd go home the size of a small elephant. She reluctantly passed on the more tempting—and fattening—items.

  Carrying her meagerly filled plate, Maggie settled in the chair next to Lydia. Curiously she glanced at the correspondence. "What are you doing?"

  Lydia leaned back with a sigh. “Invitations are coming in from everywhere for balls, soirees, card parties, dinner parties. I am having a difficult time deciding which we shall attend."

  "We?" Caution tinged Maggie's tone.

  "Of course." Lydia arched an eyebrow in a manner suspiciousl
y like Adam's. Was that some kind of irritating family trait? “It is past time you began accompanying us. You simply cannot remain hidden here. Most of the clothes we ordered have been delivered and you no longer have any excuse for begging off. Besides, the entire ton is buzzing with questions about the beautiful American relation Adam carried through the park the other day."

  "Oh, that's swell." Maggie groaned. "You mean I'm already the subject of gossip?"

  Lydia nodded serenely.

  "But I thought the idea was to keep my presence low-key. How can I do that if all these society types are watching me?"

  "You shall do fine," Lydia said confidently. "It's not as if you will be alone. Adam and I will be at your side every minute."

  "I don't think I'm ready for this," Maggie said. "You told me there are all the ridiculous rules you people have. I'll never be able to keep them straight."

  Lydia brushed aside her objections. “It's not that complicated." Her eyes twinkled. "Besides, there are so many things one can't do it's fairly easy to remember the few one can.”

  Maggie stared, too horrified to realize Lydia was joking. How could she possibly get through the kind of formal affairs people in this era attended routinely?

  “Adam will be meeting us shortly in the ballroom to teach you to waltz." Lydia turned her attention back to the stack of invitations.

  Maggie sighed, her moment of panic giving way to reluctant acceptance. Maybe she could handle it with the right help and the right teacher. It didn't look as if she had much of a choice.

  ***

  Maggie faced Adam in the center of the modest ballroom. Lydia sat off to one side at what she called a pianoforte. To Maggie, it looked pretty much like the pianos of her time, maybe a bit smaller. It was reassuring to note music was one thing that transcended time.