by Gina Lamm
He placed a finger beneath her chin, raising it so she was forced to look into his eyes.
“I would treat you with care. Is that difficult to fathom? That I would care enough for you to treat you with respect?”
“You…” She trailed off, biting her lip. After swallowing hard, she continued, “You care for me?”
When he didn’t answer right away, she got worried. Maybe she shouldn’t have asked him. Maybe she was pushing him too fast. Maybe she was delusional and imagined that this had happened.
After four heartbeats, he spoke.
“I care for you deeply. As deeply as I’ve cared for anyone.”
“Even Louisa?”
He winced a little at the mention of her name, and Jamie felt like a bitch for bringing up the ghost from his past.
“Louisa was my first lover. I was quite taken with her. When she died—” He shook his head, jaw tight. “When she died, I blamed myself.”
“But it wasn’t your fault,” Jamie said quickly, putting a hand on his arm to soothe him. “It sounded like she had a seizure or something. You couldn’t have done that.”
His eyes flew wide and he stared at her. Whoops. Guess she should have remembered that she wasn’t supposed to know anything about that.
“Mrs. Knightsbridge told me. She was trying to help me understand why you’re so grumpy all the time.”
He gave her a long look, and she started to squirm. “Here. Let’s sit down and talk for a minute.”
Jamie turned her back to him and shoved her arms back through the sleeves of her gown. If they were going to have serious conversations, she wanted to be more clothed. Without the buttons fastened behind her, she had to press a hand to the neck of her dress to keep it upright. Small price to pay for being covered during this conversation.
She sat next to Mike, being careful to keep her bodice in place.
He kept his eyes locked on her face when he said, “You said you love me.”
Caught. Skewered like a frog on a pole. Hand in the cookie jar. Red-handed, come ’n’ get her.
“Yes,” she said, looking into her lap. “I really think I do.”
A finger beneath her chin lifted it, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Do not be ashamed of it, Jamie,” he whispered. “Love is a wondrous thing.”
“Not when it’s impossible.” Her voice broke. She stood to put some distance between them, shoving the sleeve of her gown back up to her shoulder as it fell. “You said it yourself. Noblemen can’t marry for love. And I’m not willing to stand by while you marry some other woman because she’s got the right pedigree to be a countess.” She stood by the fireplace, keeping her back to Mike.
Big, warm hands cupped her upper arms, and it was all she could do to stop herself from leaning back into him.
“I was planning to propose to Miss Lyons tomorrow.”
“I know.”
Her admission silenced him for a few moments. When he spoke again, he stepped even closer, cradling her body in the heat of his own.
“I will postpone that. I cannot plan nuptials with another woman, not now. Not until things are more settled between us if it comes to that.”
She let her eyes flutter closed, hoping he couldn’t tell exactly how relieved she was. When he pulled her back, closer to him, she didn’t resist.
The soft kiss he laid on her neck gave her shivers.
“It is late. Permit me to escort you to your room.”
She tried not to let it show how much that statement disappointed her. Keeping her bodice up with one hand, she slipped the other through the crook in Mike’s arm when he offered. They ascended the stairs together, and she tried to tell herself it was a good thing that they were going to be sleeping in separate beds. They were still from opposite ends of the timeline. Not a damn thing was different than it had been three hours ago. Well, except for the fact that Mike now knew she loved him. She should still probably disappear in the morning…
When they reached her bedroom, Mike pulled her into his arms. Lowering his head, he kissed her thoroughly, passionately. Their lips and tongues melded together. She savored the kiss, letting herself fall into the swirls of desire that capsized her brain.
“Good night, Jamie,” he whispered when he lifted his head. He pressed a kiss against her forehead. “We will speak more tomorrow.”
She nodded numbly and entered her bedroom. When the door shut softly behind her, she slumped against it.
What the bloody hell do I do now?
***
He stood with his palm pressed against her bedchamber door. What the bloody hell do I do now?
She’d appeared from nowhere, attacking Collette like an avenging angel coated in spun-silver. She’d handled her with no help from him, proving that she was no wilting flower or simpering miss. She’d stated, rather loudly, that she loved him. Their encounter beneath the balcony, her soft flesh against his skin, the way her breasts had looked in the dim moonlight, dusky nipple puckered, ready for his lips…He could enter her chamber right this moment, help her out of that gown, see all of her lying there, naked to his gaze, arms up, inviting him with a smile…
His palm slid down the door, and he stepped backward.
He was undone. He was, quite simply, undone.
He entered his bedchamber and began removing his evening clothes slowly, methodically, trying to make sense of the tightness in his chest and the heat in his blood. When he was nude, he turned and caught sight of his form in the bureau’s mirror.
He was a man. Only a man. And when Jamie had said she loved him, something inside his brain had turned, shifting his entire world. He’d been as unable to stop touching her as he’d been to transport himself to her time. Her body had drawn his as if magnetized.
With a groan, he stroked his length. She was so beautiful. Her body was exquisite, and the feelings she roused in him…
He dropped his hand. He’d not spill his seed in his hand like a callow youth. Defiling the thought of her in such a way was not the mark of a gentleman.
Stretching atop his bedcovers, he stared at the ceiling, wondering what the morrow would bring. His definite plans suddenly seemed diffuse as a cloud. It was a long time before sleep claimed him, and even then, he did not rest.
Eighteen
Muriel didn’t comment on the fact that Jamie’s buttons were already undone when the maid came up to help her dress for bed. Muriel had to know something was up though, even if Mrs. K hadn’t spilled the beans. Jamie hadn’t grown any extra arms to help do it herself, after all.
It wasn’t until later, when Jamie was curled up next to Baron in bed, that she realized Mike hadn’t said he loved her too.
She sat upright, staring at the flickering light in the fireplace. He hadn’t said he loved her. Did he? Or was he being polite by postponing his engagement to Felicity until he could prove to her that they’d never work out? If that was his game, then why’d he kiss her?
Ugh. She flopped back onto her pillows, causing Baron to raise his head in alarm. Why were things so damn complicated?
Well, one thing was certain. She couldn’t leave now. She had to find out if Mike loved her too, if he was changing his mind about that whole can’t-marry-for-love thing. If Mrs. K kept her promise and had Wilhelmina reopen the portal, she wouldn’t go through it, not yet. Mrs. K would probably be over the moon about the whole thing anyway. Meddling busybody of a matchmaker.
Baron got tired of her tossing and turning. She let him out when he sat at the door and whined. She didn’t blame him. She wouldn’t want to be with her confused and sleepless self either if she had a choice.
When the sun finally came up, she got cleaned up and dressed as well as she could on her own. She couldn’t wait for Muriel. She had to get out of this room. The lemon-yellow walls were crushing her. She needed room to breathe, to think, to make some decisions. A plan of action, a way to tear down Mike’s defenses and see how he really felt about her. She needed a strategy.
You don’t
run into a big fight, spells blazing, after all, she thought as she trotted quickly down the stairs. You send in your tank first. Someone to draw the enemy’s fire, their focus. That way the rest of your party can chip away at the boss’s defenses without being slaughtered so quickly.
She had a fairly good idea of exactly who her tank would be. He was strong, sweet, and, above all, Mike was crazy about him.
Jamie found Baron in the kitchen, begging Jean Philippe for scraps.
She lured the hound into Mike’s office with a small chunk of ham. She fed him tiny bits at a time, trying to keep him calm and quiet. If this was going to work, then Baron would have to be okay staying in here with her and Mike while they talked. If her tank walked, she was done for.
Fortunately, Mike rose early too. Jamie heard him talking to the butler as he walked down the hallway. He stopped at his open office door and looked at her curiously.
“Hey,” she said, smiling. Baron, bless his bony little heart, trotted right up to Mike for attention. Mike’s face broke into a smile as he rubbed the hound’s silky ears.
“Hello there, good lad.” Mike looked at her without stopping his petting. “Good morning, Miss Marten. I trust you slept well?”
“Yeah, it was okay.” She’d slept well at some point in her life, and he hadn’t been specific about which night. “I wanted to talk to you, if you’ve got time.”
He stood, pursed his lips, and nodded. She sat in the chair across from his desk.
“Last night,” she began, then her throat closed off. She coughed to clear it, bit her lip, and continued, “Last night, you might have heard me tell Collette that I…that I…” Damn frogs. Always lodged in her throat at the worst possible moment.
Baron picked that moment to trot away from his master, disappearing into the hallway. “You are such a crap tank, Baron,” she muttered under her breath.
“I beg your pardon?” Mike said in a confused voice.
“No, that was my brain. In my head. Not for out loud.” She wanted to smack herself in the forehead to shake the thoughts loose. “Let me start again.”
Mike crossed the room and took the seat next to her. She wasn’t sure if she preferred that to him sitting behind that giant desk or not.
“Please, continue, Miss Marten.”
She nodded, glad that his tone was patient and kind. She didn’t know if she’d be able to take proud asshole Mike this morning or not.
“Last night, I told Collette that I loved you.”
The words came out rushed and squished together. She could almost smell her own terror in the air. She continued quickly, deathly afraid she would lose her cool.
“I was wondering if you had any idea how you felt about me in return. I’m not asking if you love me, because we haven’t known each other all that long, and I’ve done tons of stupid things that you should probably hate me for, but since I’m living here and you postponed your engagement for me, well, not really for me but because of me, anyway, I was wondering if you maybe felt something for me?”
Jamie squeezed her eyes shut, wishing a hole would open in the floor and swallow her up.
When long seconds went by with no reply, she peeked through one slitted lid at Mike.
He stared at her, his lips barely parted. Was that shock? Surprise? Was he wondering how to let her down gently?
“Just say something,” she blurted out.
“Miss Marten.” He stopped, cleared his throat. “Jamie.”
When he gently took her hand, she stopped breathing and opened her eyes. He shook his head, his forehead furrowed slightly.
“Jamie, I do not know what to say. There is much, much that I would say, but I have not the words. You have…”
He trailed off. Her heart stuttered. “I have what?”
“You have made me think…differently. The truths that I have held as sacred for years are now being called into question. I do not know…I do not know.”
“You don’t know what?” She slapped her hand down on the desk. “Spit it out, for chrissakes!”
He let out a confused chuckle. “I do not know anything anymore. Louisa…I thought I loved Louisa. She was very special to me. When she became ill…I swore that I would never feel that way about a woman again.” His eyes became desperate, his shoulders tense. “But since I have known you, as maddening, irreverent, and outspoken as you are, I have realized I did not love Louisa as I had thought I did. Last night, beneath the balcony…” He trailed off again. She bit her lip when he continued, “I cannot be without you, Jamie.”
“So,” she drew the word out. “Where does that leave us?”
He shook his head again, clasping her hand tightly. “I do not know.”
“Well.” She looked down at their twined fingers. “Why don’t we try to find out?”
He sighed. “There is much to consider. The earldom, my responsibilities, the duties to my name…”
She waved her free hand in the air. “Mike, listen. Let’s forget about all the reasons we shouldn’t be doing this for a while, okay? Let’s just be.” She reached up and pushed a wayward curl from his forehead. His hair was so soft, almost baby fine.
He let his eyelids slide closed. Feeling slightly bolder at his unspoken acceptance, she trailed her palm down his cheek. It was smooth with the feel of a fresh shave. She traced the cleft in his chin with a finger, smiling to herself when she touched the lace at his throat.
“Jamie,” he whispered, slitting his eyes barely open. He leaned toward her, and she met him halfway.
When their lips met this time, it was new, delicious, and different. There was none of the surprise that the rest of their kisses had carried. This one was quieter, sweeter, and somehow more passionate for its expectedness.
When he leaned back, severing their contact, she sighed.
“Time. We will give this time, if you are amenable.” He wasn’t smiling, but he didn’t look pissed either. His eyes were soft, and his mouth was a straight line.
“I think we can do that,” she said slowly.
“Good.” He stood and paced agitatedly in front of the fireplace. He looked like there were fire ants crawling under his skin.
After watching him for a few seconds, she stood. He clearly needed some time alone to think some things through.
“I’ll leave you alone,” she said quietly, and turned to go. A warm hand on her arm stopped her.
“Jamie.” His voice was pained, and his eyes were troubled. “I…”
She smiled at him, putting her hand against his cheek. “It’s okay, Mike, really. I understand. Take your time. I’ll be here.”
A small half smile crept over his face, and this time when she turned to go, he didn’t stop her.
She passed Baron in the hallway. The big gray dog was gnawing on a hambone he’d evidently suckered out of Jean Philippe.
“Traitor,” she hissed at the dog, but without any real venom. She didn’t blame him. If she could have run away from that awkward conversation, she would have too.
She found herself heading into the music room, sinking down onto the bench, and allowing her troubled fingers to find a tune.
So Mike cared for her. Not loved. Cared for. Deeply cared for, but not loved. What did that mean for them? For her?
Time. Give it time, Jamie.
As luck would have it, she ran into Mrs. Knightsbridge in the hallway outside of the Lemon Room. The housekeeper took one look at Jamie’s face and hustled her into the privacy of the yellow bedchamber.
“Good heavens, dearie, whatever is the matter?” Mrs. K set her armload of linens down beside Jamie’s prone body where she lay flopped on the bed.
“Okay. Say there’s this woman. And she’s in love with the complete wrong guy. The guy is interested in her, but they’re completely wrong for each other in every single way. And then, the guy’s ex-girlfriend finds out something about the woman and the guy that might kill whatever chance they might have had at a relationship that was probably doomed in the first plac
e. What would that woman do?”
Mrs. K’s face was one great big giant question mark.
Jamie sat up with a sigh. “I love Mike. He said he ‘cares deeply’”—she made air quotes—“for me. At the ball last night, he might have let slip that I was living here. Collette said that if I didn’t move out she’d make me pay. It sounded like she’d tell all of society about it.”
“Mercy,” Mrs. K whispered. Her round face went Clorox white.
“Yeah.” Jamie tried to swallow the knot growing in her throat. “What do I do?”
After a moment or two of stunned silence, the housekeeper started pacing by the trunk at the end of her bed. “Well, Miss Jamie, there is but one thing to do.”
“What’s that? Go forward in time, grab Drew Barrymore, and tell her to take over for me?”
The housekeeper didn’t even bother to acknowledge her smart-assedness. She turned to Jamie, drew herself up to her full height of five feet one inch, and looked straight into Jamie’s eyes as she said, “You must seduce him.”
Nineteen
Stunned silence was all Jamie could muster for several long moments. She stared at Mrs. K, trying to see the punch line, but the woman seemed to be completely serious. Out of all the things that Jamie had ever thought she’d hear coming out of Mrs. K’s mouth, seduction was definitely not on the list.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
Mrs. K sat next to Jamie, and her voice took on a motherly tone. “Miss Jamie, you must understand. This is for his lordship’s own well-being. Without our intervention, he will never discover the wonders of true love. If you seduce him, then he will do the right thing, the only honorable thing, and wed you. Now, I trust you are a virgin?”
“Wait just a fricking minute!” Jamie rocketed to her feet. “I am not going to force Mike into bed or into a relationship with me. I wouldn’t be any better than that bitch Collette if I did that.”
Mrs. K, bless her heart, had the sense to look a little ashamed. “I can understand your reluctance. But what are we to do otherwise?”
