“Yes,” Leah managed to utter. She could feel her pulse throbbing in her throat. “But why would they hide their plans from you? The priest’s hole was your idea in the first place.”
She shrugged. “Likely they don’t wish to trouble me any further on the subject. Harold has instructed me not to think about the war at all--as if I might simply halt my concerns. You know how men’s minds work.”
“I wish I knew better,” Leah murmured, not convinced. More likely, the subject they thought would worry her was her houseguest’s impending commitment. She eyed the doorway again, wondering if they’d be waiting in her room, ready to haul her away to some filthy cell. Or would they hold off until morning?
The marchioness laughed at her comment. “Don’t we all? And after spending the day with David, you must be more confused about men than ever. Pray do not judge them all by his quirks. He is hardly typical of his gender.”
“No,” she answered absently. “He’s a hard nut to crack.”
“An apt character summation. But consider this: Perhaps the ‘nuts’ with the most difficult shells are the ones who yield the most tantalizing fruit. I have known David for years, and I can tell you he is a remarkable man. Beneath the hard exterior, he is quite sensitive to the needs of others. His own needs are the ones he tends to neglect.”
“I know.” Leah had seen enough evidence of his concern for her to agree. Even now, if he did mean to put her away, she knew he only wanted to protect his family from a crazy woman--or even to protect her from her supposed suicide attempts. Was there any chance he’d come up with a solution other than Bedlam? Not much. She couldn’t even think of one to suggest to him.
Watching her face, Lady Solebury frowned. “You seem troubled, dear. Are you certain you don’t want to talk about your difficulties? Often, matters don’t look as bleak once you have expressed them openly.”
“I appreciate your concern. Unfortunately, I haven’t had much luck when I’ve tried discussing this particular matter.” Unable to hide her growing anxiety, Leah decided she might as well face whatever awaited her in her room. She took a deep breath and stood. “I think I’ll go to bed now. Thank you, my lady, for everything you’ve done for me.”
Lady Solebury extended her hand. “And thank you for all your efforts on my part. I wonder, Miss Cantrell, if I might call you by your given name? I should like very much for you to call me Phoebe.”
“I’d like it very much, too, Phoebe.” Leah gave her hand a squeeze. She wondered how the men would explain her disappearance to the marchioness once they took her away. She supposed they would say she’d run away. Phoebe would have no reason to doubt them. She probably already thought Leah had run away from home. “We haven’t known each other long, but you’ve been a good friend to me.”
“And you to me, Leah. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
She stepped out of the room with her heart pounding. No one was waiting for her in the hallway. Determined not to lose her nerve, she walked to her room quickly and found that empty as well. She entered and locked the door but still felt insecure. The marquess would have a key. If she had any hope of saving herself, she’d have to act before he came after her.
Moonlight peeked through the open drapes of her window, and she went to lean on the wide sill, checking the distance to the ground. The drop looked too steep for jumping, but a large oak tree grew close enough that she might be able to step out onto one of the thicker branches and climb down. Then where would she go? She’d have no choice but to try the spring. The thought of drowning terrified her but, at this point, trying to live in the nineteenth century seemed equally dangerous.
She fetched the sundress she’d worn on the day of her time transport, stripped off her borrowed costume, and threw on her modern clothes. She’d lost her own shoes in the water, so she put on the halfboots Phoebe had given her for walking. Snatching the only coin she owned from a cloth purse also supplied by the marchioness, she opened the window. A breeze fanned her face, cooling the mist of perspiration on her forehead.
Hesitating would only allow time for her fear to build. She took a deep breath and climbed out onto a narrow ledge. The wind gusted, pasting her dress to her legs much like she glued her back to the cold stone wall. Ignoring the chill of the air, she held onto the window frame with one hand and stretched the other arm to grab an overhead branch. She caught hold and swung onto a larger limb below, immediately inching toward the trunk. The old tree had lots of thick branches, making the rest of her descent relatively easy.
She dropped onto the ground and scanned her surroundings. There was no sign of anyone around. Nevertheless, she darted her way to the drive, crouching behind one tree, then the next. On reaching the gravel, she ran until she met with the path to the spring. There, a canopy of leaves blocked the light of the moon, and she had to tread more carefully. She fought the urge to fly through the unseen brambles. She could feel terror chasing her-- gaining fast--its cold breath whipping up her spine.
A twig snapped somewhere behind her, and she froze, breathing hard from fear and exertion.
“Is someone there?” she asked, her voice carried away on another surge of wind.
She held her breath to listen, goose bumps rising on her sweat-dampened body. Shivering, she rubbed her bare arms. If the spring didn’t take her forward in time, she would be left wet, cold and helpless--but she would worry about that when the time came. Dismissing the feeling that someone followed her, she trudged ahead to the clearing where the springhouse stood. Here, moonlight shined through the trees, glittering on the breeze-rippled pool.
Not nearly enough time had passed to dull the memory of her near-drowning, and the sight of the water made her knees weak. But she hadn’t drowned, she reminded herself, and now that she knew the nature of the transport, she wouldn’t need to struggle against the water. In a few minutes, she could be home again--in time, if not space.
She slipped off Phoebe’s halfboots and stepped up to the pool, the moss beneath her bare soles cold and clammy. Staring into the water, she wondered if she’d fulfilled a purpose here or not. She had no way of knowing, but her presence had forced David to spend time with his father--and she’d learned a lot about herself over the past two days.
The memory of David calling her self-reliant made her smile, despite all her fears. She could rely on herself and looked forward to demonstrating her power when she got home. Why had she thought she needed Kevin’s unstable companionship to be whole? Why had she thought she needed her father’s blessing to finish school? From now on, she would move ahead on her own--and she would stop expecting her father to be something other than what he was. Seeing the way David’s bitterness for his father ate at him had made her realize she had to let go of her own resentment toward her parents.
“So many reasons to go ahead and prove myself,” she said aloud, staring into the water. Part of her felt excited about taking on the future . . . but part longed for something else. More precisely, someone else. “Only one reason to stay behind--and not a very logical one.”
She tried to will away the thought of David, but his brief presence in her life had meant too much. She could almost feel him near her now--though in another minute, he might well be two hundred years away, never to be seen again.
Choking on a sob, she drew the shiny George III coin out of her pocket.
“I wish I were back in the future,” she mumbled. She flipped the gold disk into the pool. The coin sank into darkness, and she watched the circular ripples expand and fade-- just like they would in any ordinary puddle.
It’s not going to work, she thought. The George III coin was from this time period. Somehow she knew it wasn’t the right currency to pay for a ride to the future. Of course, she still had to make sure, especially since she didn’t have a coin from her own era.
She stepped into the perimeter of the pool with a gasp at the coldness of the water. Her feet sank into the muddy bottom, and she wrinkled her nose at the ooze b
etween her toes.
Nothing happened.
Clenching her teeth, she hiked up her dress and eased closer to the center of the pool. Icy water washed up over her knees, and her right foot settled on something gnarled and slimy--a tree root, she realized. Before she had quite gained a foothold, the touch of something cold on her left toes startled her and made her lose her balance. She splashed rear-first into the shallow pool. Freezing water drenched most of her dress before she could spring to her feet again.
Still, no magic exploded around her.
With an odd mixture of frustration and relief, she sloshed out of the pool, shivering violently in her dripping sundress. Now what could she do? Run somewhere else--or leave herself to David’s mercy?
Twigs crackled in the woods, and David himself stepped out from behind a tree, answering the dilemma for her. His dark eyes were round with shock rather than narrowed in rage, as she would have expected. She counted herself lucky and waited for him to walk up to her.
He stopped directly in front of her. “Well, you have convinced me you are utterly mad.”
What little hope she’d clung to fell away, leaving her dizzy with fear. She stared up into his face, her teeth chattering. “So, you’ll put me in Bedlam?”
“Oh, Leah.” His voice softened, and he shook his head. “I told you I would not. What I will do, I don’t know, but I would not wish the horrors of Bedlam upon anyone.”
She looked into his eyes, and his steady gaze told her he spoke the truth. Relief flooded her body, priming two big tears to roll down her cheeks. She saw his jaw muscles tighten before she hid her face in her hands.
“You must be freezing.” His voice trembled slightly, and she heard his clothing rustle with movement. The next second, he wrapped his jacket around her shoulders. As the warmth of the garment engulfed her, he pulled her against his chest.
She leaned into his body, savoring the security of his arms, too emotional to say anything without sobbing.
He stroked her hair and spoke softly. “Since you clearly believe this wishing well story of yours, I can only wonder about your accident again. I know you claim you escaped injury, but please reconsider whether you might have sustained a head injury. Such trauma has been known to cause delusion. I, personally, have witnessed similar cases in soldiers.”
She looked up at him sadly, knowing she would never persuade him to believe the truth. Unwilling to lie, she remained silent.
“Think about it, Leah.” He lifted her chin with his fingertips, gazing into her eyes. “You are a rational woman. You don’t really believe in wishing wells, do you? Especially after this episode here?”
“I . . . I don’t know.” She closed her eyes and pulled him tightly against her.
He hugged her back, his arms strong and warm. “Come. Let’s return to the gate house. You can dry yourself before I take you back to the manor. Allow me to help you with your shoes.”
She held onto his shoulder while he stooped to slip her feet into Phoebe’s halfboots. He stood again, and she sank against his body, letting him guide her back to the drive. Her mind spun with a jumble of emotions. Remaining here with David filled her with happiness, but just below the surface a hint of despair pricked at her. If she couldn’t convince him of the truth, she would never be able to share her history with him, never be able to relate all the experiences that made her who she was. In short, he would never really know her, and right now knowing him meant more to her than anything.
She dammed up a fresh threat of tears, burying her face against his chest. Captivated by the warmth of his body and the faint, starchy scent of his shirt, she almost believed living with him would be enough . . . even if she’d be living a lie.
CHAPTER TEN
David guided Leah ahead of him through the rear door of the gate house, his hand light on the small of her back. Beneath the hem of the jacket he had wrapped around her, her shift clung to her thighs. The wet fabric ended at the back of her knees, baring a shocking expanse of calf. He yanked his gaze away and glanced out over the moonlit garden. Then he stepped inside and shut out the rest of the world.
He turned in to face the kitchen and cleared his throat. “Her ladyship’s servants stoke up the sitting room fire before they retire to the manor house. The door is ahead to the right--the one where you see the glow.”
As they walked through the hall, dimly lit by a single oil lamp, a sharp awareness of her sparked through his body. Since he had refused any overnight help, he and Leah had the entire cottage to themselves--a notion that quickened his blood.
“This is lovely,” she said as they entered the sitting room. Many would have thought the room small, but he had always loved the cozy setting. She walked to the hearth, holding her palms out to the embers.
He stepped up beside her and stooped to rekindle the fire. As flames licked at the new wood, he resisted a sting of conscience, telling himself he had good reason to bring her here. He could not have allowed her to walk all the way back to the manor drenched and shivering. And while their isolation in the gate house might tempt him, he would never take advantage of the situation.
After a moment of warming her hands, she began to pluck at the wet cloth that adhered to her legs. He did his best to avoid watching.
“My dress is soaked.”
“Let me find a robe for you to wear.” He felt his face flush with heat--and not because of the building blaze in the hearth. He could only hope the lack of lighting would mask his embarrassment. “Now that the fire is burning, your clothes should dry quickly.”
He strode from the room, bounding upstairs to his chamber. When he returned a moment later, she had removed his jacket and stood before the flames in only her shift. The light of the fire created a silhouette of her body on the thin fabric, delineating her slender waist and the gentle curves of her hips and thighs.
Looking away, he handed her his dressing robe and a wool blanket, then turned to leave the room.
“Please don’t go again. I don’t want to be alone.”
He swung around in surprise, inadvertently sweeping his gaze down her body before he fixed on her face. She must have noticed, but to save himself from mortification, he tried to believe she had not. “You need time to change.”
She moistened her lips and avoided looking at him. “Will you come back quickly?”
“Of course. I shall return in a moment . . . with brandy to help warm you.”
Without offering her an opportunity to object, he rushed off to the study, trying not to dwell on the mental image of her disrobing. He fetched a decanter and two snifters, filling one of the glasses and gulping a burning mouthful. He had quaffed the entire drink before he went back to the sitting room.
When he did, he found Leah curled up on a settee in front of the fire. She sat watching the flames, his robe voluminous on her petite frame. The firelight lent a soft glow to her complexion and gold-like glints to her hair. She had draped the blanket over her lower limbs, but their bare beauty was freshly etched in his mind.
He handed her a glass of brandy and pulled up a chair. “Are you feeling better now?”
“Warmer, though you can imagine I still have a few things on my mind.” She sipped at her drink, wincing when she swallowed the fiery liquid. After blinking several times, she took another sip and fared better. “Will Lord Solebury be looking for me?”
“I see no reason why he would, unless someone other than I also witnessed your descent in the oak tree--and I don’t believe so. You frightened the hell out of me with that escapade, Leah. I would have called out to stop you, but I feared startling you into losing your balance.”
He thought she blushed, but she quickly recovered her composure. “Phoebe said your father told her you two had business to discuss. Did that business involve me?”
He hesitated. Though he no longer suspected she had connections with the French, he considered a vague answer his best choice. “I have some ideas for preparing for Boney.”
“Not id
eas for dealing with me?” She held her snifter with both hands, elbows squeezed against her body. “I mean, did you tell him what I told you this afternoon?”
He shook his head, noting her lack of interest in his reference to Napoleon. “None of it.”
“Thank you.”
He drew his chair closer to the settee. “Regarding your story, Leah, have you had time to consider what I suggested during our walk from the spring? Even if you did not strike your head the other day, the shock of nearly drowning could be enough to cause you some . . . some confusion.”
“Do we have to talk about this?” She swallowed a mouthful of brandy and pulled her legs up on the settee, huddling her knees to her chest. Drawing the blanket more tightly around her, she said, “I’m so cold.”
“If we discuss it, we may be able to discover what truly happened to you. You said yourself that you don’t understand how you could have traveled through time. Let us start with that. Tell me, what is your last memory before you fell into the spring?”
She shuddered, the last of her brandy nearly splashing out of the snifter. Through chattering teeth, she said, “I can’t seem to shake off this chill.”
He got up and sat beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders before he realized he had upped the intimacy of the situation. Disengaging his hold again, he pried her glass from her fingers. “Let me get you another drink.”
While he poured more brandy for both of them, he focused his thoughts on her reluctance to discuss her mental state. She seemed to have no desire to learn the truth, and he believed he knew why. Fantasy had displaced her true memories, so she had no idea what might actually lay in her past. No wonder the prospect of remembering made her shake like a leaf.
He turned back toward the settee and handed Leah her glass. Sitting back down, he made sure to leave several inches of space between her body and his.
To his dismay, she slumped against him, tucking her head under his chin. Instinct told him to get away, but her trembling body begged for comforting. Almost without his volition, his arm dropped back around her.
As You Wish Page 10
