Tears sprang to her eyes and she choked out a laugh. “Oh my God, I’ll never understand you.”
He moved closer, his lips an inch from hers. “Do you need to? Should I go instead?”
Before she could answer or shake her head, his mouth was on hers. She flung her arms around his neck and pressed her whole length against him, reveling in the feel of his strong chest against her imprisoned body.
“Get me out of this dress,” she murmured breathlessly, while his hands trailed down her back.
“Yes,” he agreed, already tugging at the fastenings. He kissed her some more, finally coming up for air with an impatient sound. “I should have tarried a bit more, perhaps you would have been in your outlandish nightwear.”
She grinned triumphantly, popping open the buttons of his waistcoat. She’d been wanting to do this for weeks now, and her fingers itched to get under all his clothes.
“I knew you secretly liked those.”
He returned her grin, finally getting her dress loose enough to slide over her shoulders.
“I liked them very much.”
He paused as her dress and shift fell low enough to expose her breasts and he nodded appreciatively, running his hands over them, lingering at her nipples.
“I imagined your body would be beautiful, but goodness, Matilda. You’re simply amazing.”
His words filled her with giddiness, and a deep, urgent desire grew with his touch. Her hands shook as she got the damn waistcoat open, jerking his shirt out of his breeches to finally be able to reach his skin. He was hot and firm and his breath hitched when she ran her hands up his chest, then back down to tug at his breeches. He pulled her close and she squeaked at the feel of him pressing hard against her.
“I like that sound you made,” he said against her throat.
“I like everything about you,” she said, feeling her cheeks heat up at the reckless admission.
His questing hands stopped roaming down her back and he nudged her chin up with his nose so she’d look at him. He held her tightly, his eyes full of inquiry.
“Do you?”
The tender smile that took over his face erased any trace of his aristocratic haughtiness and her heart broke a little. A little more. Surely she’d be finished if she continued on this path. How could she leave him? While he held her in his arms and looked down at her in such a way, she didn’t think she ever could. She linked her hands behind his neck and kissed him deeply before reality could completely take over.
Her gown was in a pile at her feet and he was assiduously working his way under her corset, but she couldn’t make any headway at all with his shirt or breeches and she wanted more than the tantalizing glimpses of his rock hard abs whenever she pulled at his clothes in vain. She wanted all of him in her view and available to run her hands over, and her greed finally made her pull away with a restless huff.
He cocked an eyebrow in an annoyingly smug and perfectly Ashford way, then picked her up around the waist and backed her toward the middle of the room. He set her down when her legs hit the bed and she sat on it, reaching for his jacket to pull him along with her. He smiled and disentangled himself from her grip, slipping out of his clothes in a blink, but still feeling like an eternity to her. His tall lithe body, which looked lean in clothes, was rippled with solid muscles and she forcefully held in a groan of anticipation, wanting nothing more than to wrap herself around him.
“Go fast this time,” she gasped, when he eased her back onto the feather mattress, his stroking fingers making her shiver with need. “We’ll go slow next time. I just want you so much right now.”
“I love the way you talk, Matilda,” he said, glancing up at her as he kissed his way down her body. “But you’re going to have to be patient, because I want to taste every part of you.”
She squirmed and ran her fingers through his hair, mussing the rich dark waves, then tugging as a punishment for the exquisite torture he was putting her through.
He paused and cocked an eyebrow at her. “You’ll recall I like that sort of thing?”
She burst out laughing as he nuzzled her belly button, a bit shocked at his words. Surely he was joking?
“I was wrong,” she sighed. “You’re actually pretty fun.”
“You thought I wasn’t?” he asked in a stern voice, and she shivered as his lips brushed across her hip.
She stroked his shoulders, digging her fingernails into his skin, almost floating from his feathery touches. “Maybe once or twice,” she admitted.
“Then I shall certainly endeavor to prove you wrong.”
He gripped her hips and slid her closer to him, winking at her devilishly before he dipped between her thighs. His velvet tongue laved her and she purred voluptuously, melting into his caresses.
“Oh my goodness, Lord Ashford,” she sighed some time later, lying limp and sprawled across the big bed. All of her senses were alive and completely relaxed at the same time.
He looked concerned for a moment before edging his way back up to kiss her throat. “That sounds rather odd in this situation. You needn’t act as if you’re really my secretary, you know.”
“Julian,” she whispered, feeling suddenly shy.
She pushed him away, hands planted on his shoulders so she could study his cool grey eyes, which were now dark and glinting.
“What am I to you?”
He kissed her sweetly and she felt his smile against her mouth. “I’m not sure, Matilda,” he said seriously. “Someone very important.”
His tone was dangerously close to mournful and she didn’t want him thinking about the future, when he’d have to leave for France, when she’d have to go back to her own time. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close, burying her face in his tangled hair. It wasn’t exactly what she would have wanted to hear, but it was enough. Really, it was all she could hope for in their bizarre situation. Talk about a long distance relationship.
No, she didn’t want to go there, she wanted to stay right here in his strong embrace, getting showered with his kisses. She’d thought she was sated but now her skin heated up again everywhere his hands passed.
She stroked his sides, relishing the feel of his lean muscles tensing under her fingertips. She gripped his thighs and arched into him, wanting him closer, shaking and breathless with fresh need. Still, he was determined to continue his greedy exploration of her body with his hands and mouth, raising eager goosebumps on her flesh. As much as she wanted the bliss to continue forever, she wanted his hard length inside her.
“Julian,” she said again, more forcefully, wrapping her legs tight around him and drawing him down so his chest brushed her breasts.
“Yes, Matilda, all right,” he agreed, taking her mouth in a forceful, sensuous kiss as he sank into her, slow and deep.
He’d drawn her so close to the edge already, her fall into ecstasy was almost instantaneous. Every caress and stroke and kiss brought her to new heights, freeing her from the circular worries she had about staying or going. The only thing that mattered was him, and by the time he fell beside her, spent and gasping, she could only cling to him breathlessly, savoring the sound of his heartbeat under her ear, and the rise and fall of his chest.
She was pleasantly sleepy and warm in his arms, and curled around him so he wouldn’t get the foolishly proper idea to go back to his own room. He pushed her sweat dampened hair off her face and affectionately kissed her nose before settling in beside her.
“Ashford?” she asked after they lay in comfortable silence for a while, settling back into their own rhythms.
He grumbled, probably at her calling him Ashford again, but she needed him to take her seriously now. She hugged him tighter for a moment before continuing in her firmest voice.
“You know what’ll happen if you try to go to France without me, right?”
He easily broke out of her embrace and got up on his elbow to look down at her. She was sure he thought he looked plenty ferocious, but she had right on her si
de. There was no way in hell he could possibly leave her behind now. His fierce glare broke after the merest second and he collapsed back beside her, pulling her snugly into the crook of his arm.
“Aye, Matilda, I know. But you needn’t waste your time threatening me with murder, as I think it would kill me faster to leave you behind.” He dropped a kiss on top of her head and sighed. “God help us both, but you can come with me.”
So surprised at his acquiescence, she didn’t have a thing to say in response. His steady, slow breathing told her he’d already drifted off to sleep. She carefully pulled the covers over them both, falling asleep easily herself for the first time since she’d lost her job, which seemed like something from someone else’s life.
Chapter 26
Ashford looked grimmer than usual, dark circles rimming his eyes and his skin pale from lack of sleep. He was a completely different man from the one who’d left her bedside a few short hours ago, when he’d slipped away before dawn to keep her reputation intact.
She had been filled with nothing but impatient agony as she let Nora wrestle her into her day dress, and it was all she could do to sit still while she visited with Serena. She was certain the glorious night before had to be written all over her face and she’d get called on her wantonness, but Serena was sullen and fidgety, finally sending Tilly off with a half-hearted apology for her bad mood and assurances that she felt much better. Tilly felt mildly guilty at how speedily she raced from the sickroom, but she ached to lay eyes on Ashford again. Even two hours felt like she was being torn to pieces.
Now he was a mess, and as soon as Tilly saw him, she put down her breakfast plate and nodded toward the window, heading that way for a bit of privacy. He followed her and held out a slip of paper.
“I received this from Adkins, one of my solicitor’s lads who uses the portal on occasion.”
“You let a kid go through the portal?” she asked, aghast at how calmly he delivered that news.
He closed his eyes, clearly wanting to get on with the important points and not be interrupted.
“He’s not a ‘kid’ as you say, he’s probably only a year or two younger than you are. It’s rare that he goes through, but he’s quite adept and some time ago I thought it might behoove me to have a reliable backup. Someone who not only knows about it, but can do it as well. He has an exact copy of my schedule and I trust him completely.”
“Oh. What did he write?” She took his hand with a backward glance at the dining table.
Kostya ate his breakfast with his nose in a ledger, unaware of their presence. Tilly smiled shyly as Ashford laced his fingers with hers, and wished their first morning together after such a wonderful night could be less fraught with worrisome news.
When she looked up at him, his eyes had softened and a hint of a smile tried to reach his lips, but he shook his head.
“It’s not working. Two of the most recent openings never happened. It may just be more of Wodge’s malevolent dickerings, but I of course, fear the worst.”
She swallowed hard, any appetite destroyed, and the smell of the bacon which had tempted her only moments before now made her want to run from the room.
“The house,” she whispered raggedly.
Had the house been demolished after all? She thought for sure they had more time. A week, at least. She didn’t know how there would be any recovery from that, if events could actually be changed.
The devastation she imagined Dex and Emma must feel seemed far away. She could no longer work up a bit of empathy for them. Dex would have to explain to her mother, Emma would be trapped forever as well. The only thing that kept her upright was Ashford’s hand tightly holding hers. As much as she’d wanted to stay forever in his arms the night before, how could it really be possible? Her life was somewhere, some time else.
Ashford gripped her other hand. “Look at me, Matilda,” he said. Without thought, she lifted her eyes to his and felt calmer, more sturdy on her trembling legs. “Don’t think about the house right now. We won’t wait any longer. We’ll leave immediately for France and find Camilla. Camilla will be able to get you home.”
She nodded, and he led her away, throwing out an excuse to Kostya. She followed him blindly until he dropped her off at her room, barking orders to Nora to pack. An hour later, they were on their way to the port, Ashford explaining it would be quicker to make the entire journey by ship rather than travel overland to London first.
“It would be safer if I sent you back to Belmary House,” he said, while they waited for Duncan to book them the first available passage.
Even as he said it, he linked his arm with hers and pulled her closer to him. She snuggled in, not bothering to reply, knowing there was no way she’d go back, even if he tried to send her.
Chapter 27
Solomon Wodge needed money, and a lot of it.
He’d never given it much thought before now, always having what he needed, nothing more or less. It felt like a waste of time, gathering all the information he could about how people made money, and it seemed in order to get a large sum, one needed luck and time. He had more time than he could ever use, and with that, he would make his own luck.
He cleared a space on the hotel room desk, looking at his surroundings for the first time since he’d checked in. It was a nice enough place, had one of those small square ice boxes full of chocolate and alcohol, two things he had no use for. The view was why he’d chosen the room.
The year was 1973 and from his room, he could look across the city to see Belmary House, now owned by one of the most worthless of the Ashford line. He would stay here a short time, make some investments, and toy with the hapless gambler a bit before jumping ahead to reap the rewards in the future.
He had a massive stack of newspapers from the current day all the way up until the time he’d found out his father had been, the time that Belmary House was set for demolition. He’d spoken to a witch, living her life as some two-bit psychic, using her magic to read people, then selling them their thoughts. It sickened him, but she was mostly harmless, and while he firmly believed the only good witch was a dead witch, he let her live because she was useful to him for now.
It seemed his father had been nosing around the house, but for what purpose, the witch swore she didn’t know. She also said a young woman had given a fantastical tale of being transported from another time and was afraid she wouldn’t be able to get back if the house was destroyed.
Wodge wasn’t yet sure how that information could help him, but he liked having it. Any information could end up being useful. Looking at the newspapers with distaste, he decided to have a little something to eat after all, perhaps one of the tiny bottles of vodka as well. He took a notebook and a pencil and began laboriously scanning the forty-some years of stocks pages in front of him, ready to become quite rich.
***
Dexter carefully placed his hand on Emma’s shoulder, hating to wake her up, but half dead himself, he needed to go home or risk falling asleep at her apartment. He wondered what would happen if he just turned off the weak overhead light and put his head down alongside her on the small kitchen table. They’d both wake up in the morning with stiff necks and even worse outlooks than they had now.
With less than a week until the demolition date, neither one of them would admit defeat out loud, but if anyone knew how to to time travel without the use of the mysterious portal in Belmary House, those people had never taken the time to write it down. At least not in any of the countless books they’d made themselves half blind reading.
When Emma looked up at him, his heart ached at the sight of her. Her usually sleek hair was smashed to her cheek on one side, a frazzled mess on the other. She made no effort to straighten it, but merely blinked at him with empty eyes that were shadowed with deep dark crescents. She had a crease near her jaw where she’d fallen asleep on her notebook edge and he longed to stroke it away with his fingertips.
Her sadness increased every day, though she tried valian
tly to hide it with manic studying and frantic lobbying to save the house. While it seemed countless people were outraged that Belmary House was set to be torn down for a crass shopping center, no one would reach into their pockets to save it.
“How much sleep are you getting?” he asked worriedly.
She didn’t look well at all and he worried if the house did end up getting wrecked, she’d crumble right along with it.
“How long was I asleep just now?” she said, brushing off his worry as usual. She stood up and stretched, shaking out her neck and peering blearily at her watch. “You should probably go, it’s well after three.”
“Yes, I woke you to tell you I was leaving. You’ll go to bed when I’m gone? I could make you some toast or something before I go.”
“Yes, I’ll go to bed, and no, I couldn’t eat a thing.”
She put both her hands on the backs of his shoulders and pushed him toward the door, stumbling over a pile of discarded books.
He noticed her determined face falter a moment and he looked around at all the stacks of books they’d already gone through, all completely devoid of helpful information. The thought of continuing on in what was sure to be fruitless busywork made his resolve shrivel, and he could only imagine how destitute she felt.
At the door, she stood on her toes and ruffled his hair, an unprecedented act of affection, and for some reason, instead of making him happy, it struck a note of fear in him. When he really looked at Emma these last few days, there seemed nothing left of her, just her outer shell carrying on as if pre-programmed to do so. Without thinking it through, he leaned down and kissed her gently on the mouth.
“Let me stay, Emma,” he beseeched. “I’ll keep reading while you sleep. I don’t believe you’re going to sleep if I go.”
She pressed her thumb wonderingly to her bottom lip and he thought he might have seen a small spark trying to kindle behind her eyes, but it was quickly extinguished by her exhaustion.
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