Blackwell 2 - Timeswept Rogue

by Amy J. Fetzer

  They didn 't want you back.

  I'll be good.

  They didn't want you back.

  A sob caught in her throat. Pain lanced her ankle and she was running, limping, running, breathless and terrified. The rush of heavy footsteps sounded behind her, closer, closer.

  She was alone in the dark, every sound ringing hollow, the odor fetid and rotten.

  Why didn't they want me back?

  She smelled cherries again and cried, confused, heart sick,

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  her senses jumping between spine-jarring fear and uncondi­tional love denied.

  She felt hands on her back, sliding warmly, a deep voice, a new voice, calling her name and her eyes flashed open, her body taut as a bow. Her lungs worked frantically.

  "Penelope. 'Tis me, my love." His expression was infinitely sad as he brushed at her wet cheeks.

  "Ramsey," she managed, clinging to him, gasping for new air.

  "Ahh, love." He sheltered her in his strong arms. " Tis killing me to see you suffer."

  "No, no." She shook her head, pushing back. "It was differ­ent this time." He waited as she caught her breath and wet her lips. "I kept smelling cherries," came in a rush, "and I saw a face." She held his gaze. "It was familiar." Excitement made her voice eager as she braced her hands on his shoulders. "I've never seen a face."

  Ramsey knew the value of the vision, for her never, was over twenty-five years of her life.

  Suddenly she flopped back, stuffing a pillow beneath her head, wiping her cheeks, sniffling. A tissue appeared before her vision and she smiled, accepting it and wiping her eyes.

  "Tell me all that was different."

  The heat of his body comforted her, calmed her. "It's always so vague, just feelings." She spoke to the ceiling. "Pain, loss fear." She shrugged. "If I felt safe it was only a sensation, never a clear image." She turned her head on the pillow to look at him. "Like ghosts. Sort of, you know, it's there but you can't understand why." He propped his torso'on one bent elbow and she reached out to brush his hair off his face, tucking one side behind his ear. "Dreaming always hurt so much, because I knew I was happy in the beginning. And felt like I'd done something to ruin it."

  "And now?"

  "Oh, it's the same." She returned her gaze to the swirled ceiling. "But I saw hands, a woman's hands, the collar of a

  dress and something glittering." Her shoulders moved, unsure. "And a man's voice, humming. Then the dreams turn mostly like before.

  "Mostly? You said afore you recalled naught but sensa­tions."

  Her brows furrowed as she concentrated, remembering details that had always escaped her. "I smell dirt and old wood. It's windy, like howl through a half open window." The words tumbled from her lips. "I'm restrained and can't talk because there's something in my mouth. And it makes me sick and dizzy."

  "Tied and gagged?" he suggested and she nodded as the pieces fit.

  "It feels as if someone is hitting me in the stomach, and the hits are in syncopation with footsteps. The footsteps sound like when you're the only person walking into a church. You know, echoing."

  "Mayhaps you were tossed over a shoulder and carted into somewhere that was open, barren?''

  "A warehouse?" She jerked a look at him. "But that means—"

  She clamped her lips shut and his gentle voice coaxed. "Relax, love, 'twill come to you, do not fight it."

  Her eyes bloomed with fresh tears. "Oh God, Ramsey," she whispered, her voice fracturing. She licked her lips. "I was stolen." Suddenly she sat up and kicked off the covers, staring at her ankle, rubbing her fingers over the dark scar, remember­ing. "I climbed out a cellar window and caught my foot on metal. It hurt, I cried out. It alerted them," she said with utter hatred. "And I kicked off the shoe to get free. But this one," she touched the other ankle, "still had a shoe. A white polka dotted sneaker," she said into the darkened room. "I ran and ran and fell, then hid in a trash can. I knew I had to be quiet. So quiet," came in a sinister hiss as if someone were listening. "If they didn't want me back, then I wasn't going. I wasn't going to tell them anything. I wasn't going to remember how much it hurt to be left behind." Her lip quivered and she sniffled, rubbing her arms and rocking back and forth. "Oh

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  God, oh God," she sobbed quietly. "I wasn't abandoned. I was kidnapped. They took it all away. Damn them, they took my life away!"

  "Penelope."

  She put up a hand, effectively holding him off, not looking at him. "I know, Ramsey. I know."

  Ramsey waited, the air trapped in his lungs, the misery in her voice tearing his heart from his chest.

  "He got back a bloody shoe. The sparkle was the Red Lady. He said she never took it off." Her tone dared him to contradict, her restrained cries grinding through her throat, flexing her shoulders. "Oh, dear God." She covered her face with her hands and sobbed helplessly, years of bitter rage and loneliness racing for release. "I'm a Black well. I'm Alexander's daughter."

  Penny stared across the breakfast table at Ramsey.

  When she'd wanted to call Alexander last night, he'd told her three in the morning was a breech of good manners and made love to her, hurriedly, wildly. When she agonized over the life she'd been denied, he promised her a new one filled with excitement and endless loving and then he'd made love to her again. And again. Until she could do nothing but sigh into a dreamless sleep. Her first in too many years.

  "You knew."

  Ramsey looked up from his cereal bowl. "Only after I'd heard the story from him, aye." His eyes crinkled as he smiled. "You bare a striking resemblance to your mother."

  A dish crashed to the floor and they looked up to see Marga­ret, her face pale as snow. "I—I—"

  Penny left her chair, ushering the woman away from the broken Crockery.' 'What is it?'' Urgent, frowning as she pushed her into a seat.

  "I'm sorry."

  Tears welled in her eyes and Penny sank to her knees, grasp­ing her hands. My God, Penny thought, she's shivering. "It's only a dish, Margaret."

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  "No, no." She glanced hesitantly at Ramsey, then back. She stammered twice before she blurted, "I'd suspected for years you were his girl."

  Penny jerked back. "What!"

  "I was never sure," she rushed to say, blinking rapidly. "The thought never occurred to me til she died. Her ... Annora's picture was in the paper—" she struggled to control her tears and face the devastated look in Penny's eyes. "And the disappearance of her girl was a one line mention. That's when I thought you might be . . ." her voice trailed off for a moment, her expression crushed. "You wouldn't talk, honey, and not even the child services could find out who you were. Only had that," she nodded to the locket, "and the welfare insisted you dug it out of the trash."

  "Why on earth didn't you say something?"

  "What if I was wrong?" she wailed. "I saw what being abandoned did to you, those awful nightmares. You knew you belonged somewhere and I couldn't get your hopes up like that when I'd nothing to prove it with. Not even the police would take me seriously."

  "The police?"

  Margaret nodded miserably. "No one would listen to a drunken vagrant, 'cause that's what I was then. It was just a hunch and I only had a newspaper picture to go by." Her shoulders sagged heavily, reaching out to stroke her hair. ' 'God, you were just a tiny thing—" She jerked back, suddenly, but Penny caught her hand, bringing it to her cheek.

  She'd carried this burden all these years, Penny realized.

  "I lived every day thinking they'd come take you away from me any minute and the older you got, the harder*lt was to even think about it- Once I ran a picture of you in the paper and some ads, but that was all I could do back then. You've got to believe me!"

  "Of course I do," Penny said without
question. I made it so hard for her, she thought, her vision blurring.

  "I had to be sure, honey. You were my world and I wasn't going to give you up to just anyone."

  Penny blinked, tears rolling down her cheeks and Margaret lifted Ihe corner of her apron, gently blotting them away.

  "Some things will never change, huh, Margaret?" Penny caught her hand.

  "No, honey. I'll always love you like my own."

  "But I am yours and you're mine. Don't you see?" Her gaze frantically searched Margaret's. "You're my mother." Margaret's eyes-flared, her features slackened. "You loved me and cared for me without reason. You were the only one I could ever really count on." She gripped her arms. "You were my family."

  Margaret stared at her, her lips quivering, then she broke, heavy sobs shaking her shoulders and Penny held her, softly insisting all was forgiven, as Margaret had done for her, her entire life. Beyond her, she saw Ramsey, blinking rapidly, a deep shuddering breath expanding his big chest. And Penny thanked God he'd fallen from the heavens into her life.

  In less than an hour the house was overflowing with a news crew, entertainment division. The production staff were unwinding electrical lines through the halls and out the front door, wheeling in metal camera cases.

  "Ramsey," Penny hissed motioning to him. Bless his heart, he was fascinated but he was getting in the way.

  "Amazing," he said, drawing his gaze from the chaos, to her and noticing the warm flush of her skin. Since he'd called Alexander for her this morn, she'd been unusually quiet, edgy. "Are you well?"

  ' 'Sure." She tried to look unaffected, fiddling with her locket. "Just the biggest moment in my life."

  He grabbed her hand, dragging her down the hall and into the study. He pushed the door shut and backed her up against it. "I thought last night was the grandest moment of your life."

  She smiled widely, looping her arms around his neck.' 'Well, I do recall a dream or two, and then yes,'' she looked thoughtful, "you did make love with me a couple of times.

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  He pressed her harder against the wood. "Several times." "Several. Of course. But," she shrugged, "other than that—"

  "Do not think to tease me now, woman," he said in a low growl and kissed her, savagely, deeply, and when he drew back she was gasping for air. "I adore you, Penelope," he said, enfolding her jaw in his callused palms. "And I promise you'll never be alone, never want for the love of family, for we will make our own.''

  "Babies," she said on a breath of air, covering his hands with her own and gazing into his dark eyes. The thought of having his child made her deliriously happy.

  "Aye, but first you should speak vows with me." God, she loved the way he talked. "Today soon enough?" He chuckled, pulling her tightly to his long frame, smoothing one hand up her spine and around to cup her breast. "Aye, afore you grow big with my child and cause another scandal." She leaned into his touch. "Mmmm. Heaven forbid." A knock rattled the door and Ramsey groaned, lowering his hands. Penny smothered a giggle and stepped away from the door."

  "Penelope," came from beyond the wall and her gaze flew to Ramsey's.

  "It's Alexander." A whisper sharp, timid.

  Ramsey saw the tension leap into her body like a new coat of skin and when he went to open the door, she put up a hand, halting him. He frowned and watched as she smoothed her clothing and primped her hair, then nodded. Ramsey opened the door.

  They stared, for a long moment nothing passed between them beyond the recognition and realization in their eyes.

  Alexander swallowed. God, his arms ached. For over twenty years his empty arms throbbed to hold his little girl. He'd missed a lifetime, of lullabyes and scraped knees and birthdays and watching her grow into a woman. And he ached. His eyes burned, a lump swelling in his throat. His fingers flexed. She was so beautiful. Her features hinting of Annora, but it was

  her eyes, cat-green, that marked her a Blackwell. He wet his lips.

  "I've missed you, poppet."

  A whimper caught in her throat and Penny crumbled, her legs going weak and Ramsey reached out to catch her. She sagged against his strength, still staring at Alexander. Lost memories flooded. And the vision of her dreams cleared; Alex­ander as a young man, holding her in his arms and dancing with her around a grand room, humming a rune in her ear.

  She took a step away from Ramsey.

  "Hello ... Da."

  Alexander choked, his lips quivering as he titled his head and raised his arms. "Are you too big to hold?"

  Penny flew into his open arms and buried her face in the curve of his shoulder, sobbing helplessly.

  Alexander squeezed his eyes shut, crushing her. "Oh God, I wish your mother was here," he murmured brokenly.

  "You are and that's enough. Oh God," she sobbed, "it's enough."

  Ramsey felt the ache of her loneliness, the years she must have spent feeling unloved and unwanted, washing away in her soft cries. And Alexander murmured to her, assuring words of a father, of a man who been unjustly denied the love of his child, a man who needed her as much as she needed him.

  They stood there in the center of the study, renewing the love that came with touch and hope and Ramsey smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling and sending a lone tear down his face. Ahh Tess, he thought, can you see what you've done for her? Are you up there with Dane watching the rebirth of your family?

  "It was your pipe smoke I remembered. It smells like cher­ries," he heard her sob childishly, and Alexander's soft happy laughter followed Ramsey as he slipped from the room.

  Sound checks and lighting went on around him as Justin Baylor adjusted the mike clipped to his iapel, watching her, easily pinpointing the differences from the last time they'd met.

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  If anything that she couldn't stop staring beyond him to the long haired man leaning against the back wall.

  "You sure they're no restrictions, no dangerous territory?" He still couldn't believe it and didn't want to ask the wrong question and find himself chopped off at the knees by her or his producer.

  "Baptize me with your worst," she said, bringing her gaze to his and his frown deepened despite her smile.

  "Why did you ask me to do this? The premier's tomorrow and last time I wasn't exactly," he shrugged, "you know ..."

  "Polite? Tactful? I saw that interview and was pleased that what was important didn't end up on the cutting room floor. And this has nothing to do with the premier." Though the studio thought it would be great press and supported her. She tilted her head, smiling. "I hear you got a promotion."

  ' 'Getting the interview of the century had a little to do with it." He appeared suddenly shy, staring at his papers.

  "Well, make this good, Justin. It's my last."

  His gaze snapped up from his notes.

  "After my next film, I'm retiring, for lack of a better word."

  He signaled the cameraman to get this on tape. "Why?"

  Her gaze drifted past him to Ramsey and his dark eyes held the warmth and energy she needed to do this, to expose herself. His gaze lingered over her and she felt her skin heat as the memory of last night replayed sweetly in her mind. She loved him, so much it almost hurt to look at him. But looking had its pleasure, she thought, for nothing turned her on more than that man, in a plain white tee shirt, tight across his chest and arms, and jeans, button fly, no belt. God, he was sexy.

  "Miss Hamilton?"

  Penny dragged her gaze back. "Huh?"

  He smiled, inclining his head to Ramsey. "He the reason?"

  She straightened in the chair. "I'm going to marry that man."

  The heavy camera suddenly swung around to get him on tape, a hand held flashing in his face. He didn't so much as flinch, his gaze tight on Penelope and when the news crew failed to gain a response, attention shifted back to her.

 
Where it should be, Ram thought.

  "You going to fight me for time with her?"

  Ramsey chuckled shortly afore he looked at Alexander. "I only wish to see her happy."

  "We barely got started when they," he made a sour face at the production crew, "butted in."

  Ramsey knew he'd have most of his questions answered afore the interview was complete, yet said, "If you are impa­tient, mayhaps you should speak with Margaret O'Hallaran." Ram nodded to the woman standing just off to the side, watch­ing. Alexander frowned quizzically, aware she was the house­keeper. "She saved her life."

  Alexander immediately crossed the foyer, and Ramsey watched as Meggie back-stepped a pace, her manner wary. Alexander spoke softly to her and Meggie smiled, sudden and relieved, and with their heads together, they spoke, pausing long enough for Meggie to hunt down Hank and bring him into the discussion.

  The call for quiet spent through the house and Ramsey's gaze returned to Penelope. Bright lights filled the living room, and a woman adjusted a smattering of hair over Penelope's shoulder afore slipping out of the vision of the camera. From his vantage point Ramsey could see her, her image in the wide square lens of the monstrosity of a machine. She shifted her head, gazes locking across the room and Ramsey knew this was hard, knew she was releasing her ghosts afore her public. And he loved her more for her bravery. She was crossing swords with far greater a foe that he's ever drawn upon.

  Penny caught his wink and smiled, taking a deep breath and focusing on Justin. She wasn't normally nervous, the camera a secret place she lived inside, but this time, she'd brought it into her home, her life, in the hopes of breaking open a new one. Freedom. From Sloane and her threats, from hiding her past.

  "This will air tomorrow morning on Talk Florida, by the way," Justin said and she sputtered, "What!" just as the cam­era's red light flicked on.

  As Justin spoke his introduction into the camera, Penny looked at Ramsey and recognized his disappointment. She