by Nichole Van
“I will not just let Daniel go.” She pushed away and scrambled out of his lap. Glaring down at him.
“But he is entitled to live the life he chooses—”
“I can’t abandon him, Marc. It’s not who I am.” She turned away and practically stomped over to the desk “I don’t give up on those I love.”
A pause.
“I am not suggesting you give up on him, Kit. I am merely pointing out that Daniel’s vision of his future may not coincide with your own.”
She whirled on Marc, still sitting in the chair, legs extended, arms crossed. The candles dancing shadows across his face.
“He is the only family I have left, Marc. The. Only. Family.” She punctuated each word with a jab of her finger. “Do you give up on your family? Would you stop fighting for your sister?”
He stared at her for a moment and then looked away. Shrugged.
“If it was what Emme deeply wanted, then yes,” he said into the shadows, shoulders shifting. “I would have the courage to set her free.”
Silence hung in the room. Tense and laden.
Kit clamped her jaw. Tight. “Well . . . then. That’s where you and I are different. I won’t give up. Daniel is all I have.”
Chapter 20
The great medieval hall
Whitmoor House
March 2, 1814
Dawn filtered through the shuttered windows in tight beams, turning the great hall into striped bands of floating dust.
Marc sat calmly in a chair facing the small staircase which led to the servant’s door.
After their tense conversation the night before, he and Kit had opted to sleep in the large medieval hall for the night. With the exception of the bedroom Daniel occupied, all the other bedrooms were in a sorry state. And though the old keep was drafty, it had several large settees draped in heavy holland covers which provided enough warmth. Allowing Marc to be close to Kit but still separate. She didn’t seem in the mood to cuddle.
Kit had gone to talk with Daniel before going to sleep. Their angry voices rang down the stone staircase, forcing Marc to overhear their conversation whether he wanted to or not.
“Just stop all this nonsense. You have to come home.” That was Kit. Impassioned. Upset.
“Kit, I know you want me to, but I have things I need to finish here. There is a war on—”
“This isn’t our war! We both already know how this war ends, and I have every expectation it will end the same whether you’re here or not. Probably more likely to end the same if you leave now, quite frankly—”
“You’re not listening me. You never listen to me. Just for once, Kit, please trust me.”
“Daniel, I do trust you—”
“No, you don’t! You’re basically standing here, telling me I should abandon everything and go back. Telling me I don’t know what I want—”
“What could possibly hold you here? Why do you want stay here, Daniel?”
“It’s hard to explain, Kit. You know I’ve never felt like I fit in—”
“And you think you will fit in here?!”
“Like I said, I left you a letter—”
“A letter?! I never got your letter. I was gone, remember? Get with reality, Daniel. This isn’t our world!”
“If you would just try to understand—”
“Understand?! You simply need to drop all these stupid ideas—”
“My dreams and hopes are not stupid, Kit!” Daniel was shouting now too.
“Well, if they stop you from coming home and behaving like a grownup, then I suppose they are stupid—”
“I’ve had enough of this conversation. You can leave now. We’ll never see eye-to-eye on this!”
“Fine! Be like that!”
A door slammed, echoing throughout the house.
Kit said nothing about the conversation when she returned to the hall. Though the tense line of her mouth expressed it clearly.
Marc ached for her. He understood all too well why she was fighting to keep Daniel in her life. But he also clearly saw the futility of it.
Daniel was his own man.
He glanced over at her, asleep on a settee. Facing toward him, hands tucked under her cheek as a pillow, the holland cloth pulled over her for more warmth.
She looked adorable. Relaxed. Soft snores escaping.
For his part, Marc had tried to sleep. But it wouldn’t come. His mind was on overload. Flooded with images and thoughts and . . . feelings.
He had been pushing back his emotions for Kit for so long, convinced nothing could ever happen.
And now . . .
Now he faced the reality that something could, and quite frankly was, happening. They could be together in 2014. Her laughter and spunk and spirit—the sheer vivacity of her soul—could have a more permanent place in his life. He meant what he said about wanting to pursue a relationship with her once they returned to the twenty-first century.
He had expected to feel somewhat panicked at the thought. But instead, he felt only relief. Wave after wave of it. A deep sense of peace.
It felt almost too big to even define, to put into words.
Kit belonged with him. Beside him.
Together, they would work through this whole Daniel mess.
But for now, he waited. Sitting in his chair at the top of the stairs to the servant’s entrance. He had a hunch.
Which was confirmed when Daniel crept into the room, crossing toward him. Dressed for travel in a long greatcoat, carrying a rucksack in one hand and the papers stolen from Linwood in the other.
Daniel froze when he saw Marc sitting in the chair and cocked a challenging eyebrow. He strode over and handed Marc the papers stolen from Kinningsley. Marc took the papers and then quietly followed Daniel out the door.
The cold February air froze his breath. Frost crunched under his feet as they walked across the overgrown driveway.
Daniel paused before reaching the lane, turning back to Marc.
“Will you tell her?” Daniel asked without any preamble.
“That you’re never returning to 2014?”
“Yes.”
“I already have. She doesn’t believe me. She thinks she can change your mind.”
The lingering memory of Kit and Daniel’s tense exchange from the night before rushed through Marc’s head.
“She cannot.” Daniel snorted softly and then looked longingly up the lane. “I belong here.”
Marc nodded, studying the man before him.
It was hard to detect the twenty-first century man in Daniel. He wore his clothes like a second skin, as if he had been born to them. Even his speech fit into nineteenth century patterns most of the time.
Silence stretched between them. A bird tweet-tweet-tweeted somewhere in the bare tree branches up the lane.
Daniel kicked gravel with his foot, head down, drawing words out like hesitant treasures.
“It’s like . . . my entire life, I’ve been a misfit. Nothing ever feeling . . . right. I’ve spent so many years wanting to crawl out of my own skin, feeling like I was broken and wrong. Nothing would ever be whole. And then I come here and . . . whoosh.”
Daniel let out a surprised laugh. He lifted his eyes to Marc’s, gleaming and bright. The eyes of a man astonished. “I am suddenly . . . me. Awakened. I can see myself here. Living, working . . . for the rest of my life. Like everything before was just a bad dream but this . . . this is the reality always meant for me.” He punctuated his words with an expansive swing of his arms.
Marc swallowed. Daniel’s words hit him hard.
Because there they were. The words he had been searching for to describe how he felt about Kit. Expressed to perfection.
I am suddenly . . . awakened. Like everything before was just a dream but this . . . this is the reality always meant for me.
Being with Kit.
Daniel met his eyes, saw the dawning gleam there.
“Do you know what I mean, Marc?” Daniel nearly whispered the words. And t
hen shook his head, looking out over the house and undulating fields with an almost awestruck expression.
Marc nodded. He did indeed.
But if Kit wanted to be part of Daniel’s life, she needed to remain in 1814. That was her only option. Stay, abandon her twenty-first century life and retain her brother. Or return to 2014, leaving Daniel in the past.
Where did that leave Marc?
Panic buzzed at the back of his head. Daniel had mentioned this man—Garvis, was it? Who had been (would be?) employed by a man who occasionally went by the name Marc Wilde.
Marc swallowed. His future was, well . . . in the future. He couldn’t stay here in 1814. He didn’t want to stay here—
But a life without Kit . . .
Marc kicked the thoughts away. There would no happy solution here. Somewhere there would be heartache.
“She won’t ever let you go.” Marc nodded his head back toward the house. Toward Kit.
“I know.”
“She loves you too much.”
“She is fierce in her love. She is a good person. A better sister than I ever deserved.”
“That is truth.” Marc paused. And then, taking a deep breath, asked the question he dreaded. “If she decided to stay here with you, would you let her?”
Something flared in Daniel’s eyes, as if found the thought . . . tantalizing.
And then he shook his head. “I would welcome her, but this isn’t the life for her. She is too wrapped up in that website of hers and all her friends. She is not an old-fashioned sort of woman. To tie herself here . . . it would chafe, I think. But that is her decision to make. She would always have a place with me, no matter what. I love her, you see. Despite everything, I love her more than anyone.”
“Just not more than yourself.”
Daniel gave a rueful smile. “Should I love her more than myself?”
That was a good question. Should another’s opinions and wants override your own?
Marc’s silence was his answer.
“Do you love her?” Daniel asked.
Marc reared back. Blinked. The question caught him off guard.
He liked Kit. He liked the thought of her. He liked the fit of her in his life, in his thoughts. Oh, who was he kidding, in his arms too.
Kit was just so unlike any other woman he had ever met. So much . . . more.
She made him feel whole, complete. At home. Like every best friend he had ever had wrapped up into one package. Like, without her beside him, life sort of lost its meaning.
Was that real love? True romantic love?
All these emotions were so new to him. It was hard to say.
Daniel stood patiently, an amused look on his face.
“I don’t not love her,” Marc finally said.
Daniel clapped him on the shoulder, wide grin stretching.
“I’ll take that. Be kind to her. Be loyal. She needs someone who puts her first.”
Marc nodded. And then reached into his pocket and pulled out the two items he had prepared for this moment. He shoved them into Daniel’s hands.
“Here. She would want you to at least have these things.”
Daniel glanced down at the taser and leather purse filled with coins.
“I cannot take your money—”
“It’s not mine. It was a loan, of sorts.”
“Well, in that case—” Daniel hefted the purse and then pocketed it.
Marc gestured toward the taser. “You are taking a terrible risk giving those papers to the spy.”
Daniel examined the taser. “Probably. But I need seed money if I’m going to make a go of a life here. And all the hard work is already done. Just have to hand over the goods tomorrow night. Thank you for this.” He tucked the taser into his coat.
“Would you be willing to do one thing for me?”
“Anything.” Daniel nodded, looking Marc intently in the eye.
“Linwood isn’t going to let this whole spy thing go until he has someone behind bars . . . or strung up by their neck, which I suppose is the more likely scenario. Would you mind seeing what you can find out for us?”
“You mean, uncover the identity of the spy I’ve been working with?”
“Exactly.”
“It might be dangerous.”
“Yes. I expect it will. But it is something that needs to be done. For King and Country . . . for Kit.”
A gleam flared in Daniel’s eye. And then a wry grin tugged at his lips. “My sister would kill you if she knew you were suggesting I put myself in harm’s way.”
“Probably.”
Daniel chuckled, delighted. “Good thing she can’t stop me. I’m on the case. Tell her it was my idea. And, hey, maybe I will come out the hero this time. I’m never the hero. It would be nice for a change.”
“Deal.”
Marc held out his hand. Daniel shook it with a firm grip.
“I will send you word at Haldon Manor regardless of what happens. Also, I want to let Kit know where I am, if she decides to join me. I am serious about my offer. It would be wonderful to have her here with me.”
Marc ignored the sharp pain lanced through his lungs, catching his breath. If Kit stayed . . .
“Perfect.” He managed to get out. “We’ll wait to hear from you then. Be careful.”
“Care for her. Give her my love. And I apologize in advance for the scene you will endure when she wakes and realizes I am gone.”
With a soft smile, Marc clapped his shoulder. Daniel returned the gesture, his face alight with hope and promise of his future.
And then, with a jaunty tip of his hat, Daniel strode up the lane into the rising sun.
Marc was sitting in the same chair when Kit woke up, stretching from underneath the holland cover. The sun had risen in earnest, sending beams of winter light into the room. Dust still hung in the air.
Kit saw him and smiled. Marc hated being the one to knock the happiness off her face.
She sat up, looking around. Looking for someone other than him.
A tiny surge of jealousy threaded through him at the thought. At least, he thought it was jealousy. It wasn’t an emotion he had felt much in regards to women.
Deep breath. It didn’t matter. There were more important things to discuss.
He caught her eye in the filtered light. Held it.
“Good morning, beautiful. Remember that I told you as soon as I could. I abhor secrets just as much as you.” He said it lowly, gravely. Letting the sound linger in the room. “Daniel is gone.”
As if gravitas alone could stem the imminent explosion.
Kit was on her feet in an instant, darting panicked looks around the large room.
“Daniel,” she called. Took a few steps over to the stairs leading into the family wing. “Daniel!”
As if the sheer force of her will could bring her brother back.
Marc stood, setting weary hands on his hips. “He’s gone, Kit.”
“How do you know?” Kit peered up the staircase without turning around. “Sometimes he just hides and pretends to be gone. There was this one time when—”
“I watched him leave.” How that admission cost him.
She whirled, hair flying.
Marc held her gaze. Saw the moment when realization set in. When she understood what he hadn’t done.
“You let him . . . go?” An entire universe of heartbreak in that sentence. “But . . . but why? We just found him. I barely had time to say hello—”
Her voice broke. Her anguish cutting. Sharp. Keen.
She wandered toward him, eyes wide and stunned. Impossibly lovely with her hair sleepy and tumbling down her back. Honey eyes filling with tears she bravely bit back with a trembling lip.
What justification could he offer?
“He’s a grown man, Kit.” Marc gestured helplessly as she drew near. “He can make his own decisions—”
Probably not his best choice of words. Kit’s eyes widened further and then narrowed. Sorrow instantly morphing i
nto anger.
None of which was directed at the man who actually deserved her anger. Though Marc was smart enough to keep that thought to himself.
“How dare you?!” She shoved him. Both hands firmly on his chest and pushed. “How dare you just watch him walk away!” Push. “How dare you not wake me!” Push. “You don’t get to make these decisions for me. For Daniel.”
Her tears spilled over. Hot. Angry.
She glared at him, chest heaving. She tried to shove him again, but Marc snagged her hands in his. Pulling her up against him.
“What would you have had me do, Kit?” He said it kindly, gently. “Beat him into a bloody pulp so he couldn’t leave?”
She pulled on her hands. “If necessary.” Said from between clenched teeth.
“You don’t mean that.” Marc released her. She stumbled back. He spread his hands wide. “Call it honor. I don’t beat men for doing what they feel they must.”
“Even for me?”
The question hung there.
There was no good answer to that.
“Kit, you are not your brother’s savior. You can't bend him to your will. Change him. Force him to be that which he is not. All you can do is love and accept him as he is. Set him free to be himself.”
She backed away as Marc spoke, shaking her head.
“No,” she whispered. “No, it’s not a matter of setting him free. As I keep saying, it’s retaining that one last fragment of my family. That one person who matters more than any other. How could you suggest that I ever give up on him?”
“I am not suggesting you give him up, Kit.” Marc paused. Scrubbed a hand through his hair. “I am merely pointing out that Daniel has chosen his path.”
She jutted out her chin mutinously. Stubbornly.
“Kit, if you want your brother in your life, you might have to reconcile yourself to living permanently in 1814. I can’t see a single reason why Daniel would return to 2014. You yourself said he was lost in the twenty-first century. But in this time period, he seems grounded and driven. He likes life here.”
Kit deflated. A tear escaped, leaving a ragged trail down her cheek.
“I can’t leave him, Marc. I just can’t.”
The anguish in her voice cut him. Slicing deep. Her swimming eyes pleaded for understanding.
