by Dawn Brower
“Are we going to play a guessing game?” he said. “Am I to figure out who you are through a series of questions, or are you going to tell me?”
“Why are you so adamant?” she asked haughtily. Her eyes narrowed and she took a step back out of his reach. “Why do I need to identify myself?”
Zane bit his lip and considered her words. She was a conundrum. Something clearly had happened to her, yet she had enough tenacity to hold her ground. He liked it.
“Why don’t we start with me then?” He took a step forward. “Since you’re in my home, it seems rather redundant, but I’m willing to play your game.”
“Oh?” she said, raising an eyebrow. “Your home?”
“Yes,” he replied. “I’m Zane.” He lifted his arms and gestured around him. “And this is the conservatory in Seabrook Manor.”
“That’s not possible,” she replied. She lifted her hand to her face. It visibly shook as she once again brushed her hair back. Her eyes held a hint of fear as her mouth fell open. No sound came out for several moments until she asked, “How can this be?” She swayed again, and this time she did lose consciousness. Zane barely had time to catch her before she hit the floor. The combination of the shock and her injuries must have taken a toll on her.
“Bloody hell,” he said. “I guess I’ll have to see you upstairs then.”
Part of the draw of his annual ball was that it was in the tradition of house parties from a bygone era. Every room in the house was occupied, so there was only one place he could think to take her that he deemed safe enough. He scooped her into his arms and carried her up to his room. She was clearly not well.
The door to his chamber was ajar when he approached, making it easier for him to enter with his arms full. He laid her down on his bed and took a step back. He leaned down and pulled back her gown over her shoulder and checked the small wound. The blood flow had eased, but he had no medical training to make an accurate diagnosis. Maybe he’d get lucky and there would be a doctor in attendance. Damn it. What had happened to her? So much for finding a moment of peace...
CHAPTER TWO
Callista opened her eyes and blinked several times to clear her vision. Sunlight streamed through a nearby window and bounced across her face. How long had she been out? Hadn’t it been dark outside? Where was she? The room was decadent and decorated in various shades of green. She pushed the bed sheets down a little and stared down at her attire. Someone had removed her dress. She was now in something soft and warm, but didn’t cover her entire body. The nightdress stopped above her knee and made it easier for her to move her legs. The top of it covered her bosom and shoulders adequately. It was scandalizing, but she rather liked it. A sharp ache throbbed in her shoulder. She winced and attempted to roll to her side.
“Don’t move,” a man said. “The doctor said you need rest.”
Who was speaking? She turned her head met his gaze. It was the man from earlier—the one who seemed so familiar. He’d said they were at Seabrook, but that wasn’t possible.
She opened her mouth to speak, but her throat was to dry. What had he said his name was again? Callista licked her lips and swallowed. If only she had something to drink. Maybe that would help to loosen her tongue and give her what she needed to question him. She wasn’t used to being so vulnerable, and she didn’t appreciate being put in that position with a strange male. She ignored his earlier warning and pulled herself up to a sitting position.
He lifted a glass off of a nearby table and handed it to her. “Drink some water. Fluids will help you heal. If you’re in pain, the doctor left medicine to help. Would you like me to retrieve it?”
Callista took the water and sipped it. She shook her head. “I don’t need anything for the pain.” She didn’t want to take anything that might dull her senses. Being with a stranger already put her at a disadvantage, and she didn’t want to add to it. Was he the one who had undressed her? It could’ve been the doctor, but she somehow doubted it. She was willing to bet he was the type who liked to take control of a situation. He probably believed undressing her had been doing her a favor. She mentally rolled her eyes—how altruistic of him.
There was something about this man that screamed authority. Men usually fell into a couple of categories. They were either more on the side of good or fully engrossed in evil deeds. Either way they all wanted one thing from a woman. Callista wasn’t inclined to agree to that particular endeavor. This man before her was teetering on an edge of indecency. Overall, he appeared... She was at a loss for the exact word. He was handsome for sure but she was not entirely certain he was someone she could trust. Enigmatic—he was all that and more. She’d never had trouble deciphering a man’s motives before and was at a loss on how to deal with this particular one.
He raised an eyebrow. “Suit yourself. Let me know if you change your mind.”
“I won’t.” She lifted her chin up in defiance.
The man chuckled lightly. “You’ve been through an ordeal, it appears. Do you care to tell me who harmed you?”
A flash of memory floated through her mind. Ulrich... What had happened to him? He’d had a small dagger she hadn’t noticed. He’d managed to slice her shoulder with it. Had she hit him when she shot her pistol? God, she hoped so. At least she could take some comfort knowing he’d probably died when he hit the ground. A moment of clarity hit her. What if he hadn’t died? She hadn’t fallen to the ground, and he could be in a similar situation as her. Was there any way to find out? “It was an accident. Nothing to concern yourself with.”
“Sweetheart, it doesn’t work like that.” His lips twitched. “You’re in my home, and I can’t allow my guests to injure each other. I need to handle the situation before someone else finds themselves in a similar situation.”
He was one of those kind of men. She’d been right on one account. He did like to take charge. The bastard probably had to control everything. She saw past his charming façade. How should she handle him? In some regards, all men were the same. A little tears, a wobbly lip, and an innocent expression and they’d believe whatever she said—add in her injury and she should be safe. Somehow, she didn’t believe this man was quite the same caliber as most men. He had a different edge to him. Suddenly, it hit her who he reminded her of—and sadly it made sense. The look in his eyes was similar to Dom. “Did you mention this was Seabrook?”
He nodded. “It hasn’t changed since last night when you fainted in my arms. Do you recall my name?” His lips quirked upward. “Perhaps you’d like to share yours with me now?”
What had he said his name was? It was rather odd... Cane? Cade? No. “Zane.”
“Very good,” he replied. “And yours?”
Callista studied him for a few moments and decided that she could trust him with her name. The rest of her story she wasn’t so sure of though. She didn’t know how he was related to Dom, but he had to be. Especially if he was at Seabrook... How had she managed to come to the marquess’s estate? The last thing she recalled was being at Ulrich’s home in France. It was impossible she’d traveled so far without knowing it. Was she dead? She had fallen over the balcony ledge. No that was ridiculous. She was very much alive and that meant Ulrich could be as well. One thing at a time though. First, she had to deal with Zane and his unending questions. “I’m Lady Marin,” she replied.
“So formal,” Zane said. Amusement filled his voice. “Do you perhaps have something more intimate I can call you. I did give you leave to address me by my first name.”
“No.” She frowned. “You may address me as Lady Marin or not at all.”
He pulled a chair near the night table and dragged it over to the side of the bed and sat. “Lady Marin, I must inform you that there is no need for the pretense. The masquerade ended last night. The charity for this year was picked, and the majority of my guests have already departed. I realize one of the requirements of my yearly event is complete absorption into the strictures of polite society, but once it’s concluded you don’
t need to keep it up. You’re free to tell me your complete name. In fact, I’m going to have to insist upon it. Unless you’d like to explain it to the authorities?” He lifted a brow. “The doctor I had examine you agreed to keep silent, but I could ask him to come forward if I have to force the issue.”
Damn man. She was right. There was no way to gain the upper hand with him. He saw too much. She didn’t want to tell him her name, and wasn’t entirely sure why. It was exactly as he’d said—intimate. Maybe it would be better if she could change the direction of their conversation. Information was key, and she lacked a lot of it. She had to find out what happened to Ulrich, who exactly Zane was, and how she ended up back in England at Seabrook Manor. “How are you related to the Marquess of Seabrook?”
He jolted backward. “You don’t know who I am?”
How did he expect she would? “No,” she said carefully. “Why would you believe I did?”
Zane remained quiet for a few seconds. His lips formed a flat line on his face, but didn’t detract from his handsomeness. His features were similar to Dom’s, but it wasn’t quite the same. There was something darker, if that was possible, about Zane. Callista rather liked it, but she was perverse that way.
“Because I’m the Marquess of Seabrook.”
It was her turn to frown. That couldn’t be right. Was the man delusional? Perhaps she was. Had she hit her head? It was probably more likely she was dead and this was a version of her personal hell. Still, she had to be sure. “No. You can’t be. I know the marquess, and you’re not him.”
He laughed. “Sweetie, I assure you—I’m the marquess. If someone else told you he was... Well then, he played you for a fool.”
Callista lifted her hands and rubbed her temple with her fingers. Her head was going to burst with pain. What he said didn’t make sense. She stopped massaging her head and looked back at him. “I’m not sure what’s going on, but I do know the Marquess of Seabrook.” Should she mention how he was one of England’s finest spies? Probably not. “His name is not Zane. It’s Dominic.”
Zane flinched. His eyes narrowed to tiny slits as he studied her for a moment before he asked, “Who are you really?”
That had garnered a reaction from him. He knew who Dom was. “You recognize the name. Tell me what’s going through your mind.”
“You’re confused that is all.” He sighed. Zane lifted his hand and ran it through his golden locks acting almost—dismissive. “There was a Dominic Rossington, and he was the fourth Marquess of Seabrook. He’s my ancestor.”
His ancestor? That would mean that Dom wasn’t—alive. He had to be wrong. Dominic wasn’t dead, and he didn’t have any children. Sure, he was in love with Rosanna Kendall, but that didn’t mean anything. They had been in the middle of rescuing her. Hadn’t they?
“You’re right,” she replied. “I’m confused. Because nothing you said makes sense. I saw Dom...” When had she seen him last? She didn’t even know how long she’d been out for certain. “It wasn’t that long ago. I was helping him rescue Lady Rosanna Kendall.”
“You know my family’s history well.” Zane’s voice had an edge to it. His face turned hard. The muscles in his cheek twitched as his lips formed a firm line. His stare—Callista shivered as it bore straight through her. “I applaud your ingenuity. No one else has ever tried that tactic before.”
What was Zane’s concern? So what if she knew who Rosanna and Dom were? What did that have to do... Oh. It hit her. Did he think she wanted him? She started to laugh. “That’s sweet,” she said in-between fits of laughter. “You think...” She held her hand over her stomach. “I’m trying to secure a match with you.”
Zane glared at her. “You’re not trying to win me over?”
“Absolutely not.” Her cheeks hurt from her laughter. It had been good to have something to amuse her. Perhaps she would get to know Zane better. He might be entertaining for a spell. “I’ve already done the marriage thing. I considered it with Edward...” Sadness filled her as quickly as joy had. How had she forgotten him already? She shook it away and focused her attention on Zane once again. “Well, he died before we got that far. I loved him in my own way. I was to be his duchess, but it wasn’t meant to be.”
She wouldn’t explain any more than that. He didn’t have the right to her inner secrets. Love wasn’t for her. It was a lesson she’d learned the hard way. Edward had a carefree spirit she’d been drawn to. She’d not lied. Loving him was easy, and it made her happy for a time. At least until she wasn’t. Ulrich had taken away all her chances for that life, and she’d taken steps to make sure he paid for it. Please let him be dead...
“A duchess?” He grinned. “I see. I’m not good enough for you.”
“Not at all,” she said, and then paused considering her words. “I didn’t mean that how it sounded. I mean that being a duchess was an additional benefit, but it wasn’t the sole reason I was marrying him. As I said, I did love him. My first marriage wasn’t...pleasant.”
“So, this Edward had the audacity to die before the wedding. Rather rude of him.”
The more Zane talked, the more Callista disliked him. How dare he suggest Edward was rude for dying before their wedding. As if she was so selfish as to wish him alive long enough to make her a duchess—she wanted it all. She’d wanted him.
“If you’re the Marquess of Seabrook, you must be acquainted with Edward’s family.”
“How so?”
“I was betrothed to Edward Kendall, the Duke of Weston,” she replied. “I mentioned his sister, Lady Rosanna earlier. Dom was rather—attached to her. I assumed they’d marry at some point. If you are related to him as you claim, you’d have an idea of what their fate was.”
Was she really playing his game? If he was a descendant of Dom’s, that would mean she’d somehow jumped through time. She wasn’t so foolish as to believe something so fantastical. If it were true though... Could she go back in time somehow and save Edward?
Zane stared at her with his mouth open. He closed it and then opened it again to speak. No words came out. He shook his head several times. “You said you’re Lady Marin.”
“Yes,” she said. “I am.”
“Lady Callista Lyon, the Countess of Marin,” he said fully.
“So you do know who I am? Why were you pretending otherwise?”
The stupid man thought he could outsmart her. He’d soon learn she wasn’t to be trifled with. She’d not become a spy for the English for no reason. She’d done it to avenge Edward, and she’d not be thwarted by anyone.
“Because I don’t know you,” he explained. “I know of you and what I read about you in my ancestors’ journals. You went missing in 1818 and were never heard from again.” He pauses for a moment. “I’ve recently...” He stopped and shrugged a little bit. “Well, perhaps that is a slight exaggeration. I’ve always had an interest in my family history, but I’ve taken it a step further over the past year. I’ve read quite a few of the journals. You were mentioned.”
That made absolutely no sense. He was being ridiculous. “I don’t believe you.”
“I can prove it to you if you’ll let me.”
She didn’t want him to because if what he said was true, then she’d jumped through time, and that was too much for her to comprehend. Maybe she should play along for a while. If time travel was possible, she could use it to her advantage. The best course of action was to gain as much information as she could. If he was willing to be her tutor, who was she to deny him the opportunity. Callista was Dom’s equal, but no one recognized it because of her gender. She’d not minded since it added to her advantage. Men always underestimated her. Zane would be no different.
“Please do,” she agreed. Her lips tilted up into a flirtatious smile. “I’m your willing pupil.”
CHAPTER THREE
Zane stared at Lady Callista with fascination. If she was truly who she claimed to be it was remarkable. He’d read about her exploits in his ancestor’s journals over the past month
. She was one of the best spies England had during the Napoleonic Wars. The countess had entered the game late, but made up for it with tenacity. Time travel was possible. Regina’s sister, Alys, had traveled through time and married Bradford’s ancestor. It was that bit of information that had renewed his interest in his family history. How often did people actually travel through time? He had to wonder if anyone he’d been related to had at some point. So far none of the information indicated they had, but the journals had been filled with details of everyone and anyone his family were acquainted with who might have.
She pushed the bedspread all the way down and swung her legs over the side. “I don’t suppose you have something other than this—” Her fingers skimmed over one of his cotton T-shirts he’d given the doctor for her to wear. “—to wear.” It was quite large over her small frame. Zane found it incredibly sexy.
His lips quirked up. “I don’t have any gowns for you, if that is what you’re asking.” Zane bit his lips. “In fact, I don’t have any lady’s garments at all. We’ll have to take you shopping later.”
Her mouth fell open as if to disparage him for something else. She had quite the sharp tongue on her. He didn’t have time to humor her though. Callista would continue to be in denial of her situation if he didn’t prove to her that she was no longer in 1818, and was actually in 2017. He should perhaps ask her more questions and ascertain if she was lying—honestly though he believed her. She fit the description and it wasn’t as if the details of her disappearance were well known. As far as he was aware he was the only person who had any documentation of who she was and what she’d done for the crown during the Napoleonic Wars.
Zane appreciated her dilemma though. Clothes were a necessity and cotton men’s shirts were not something she was used to wearing. He’d have to locate something more appropriate for her. Regina might have something, even though she was probably taller than Callista. The duchess might be a good person to seek help from either way. Sometimes females did better with another of their gender. Callista might find him a bit overwhelming to deal with.
