Emma was just reaching for her teacup, and her hand shook. Peyton helped her set her cup down.
“Fitz?” Emma asked. Yes, indeed, Maude had done her research.
“I can’t see him. I don’t have that kind of talent, but when I meditated on the story of Fitz and Anna-Maria, he sort of appeared to me. With a little help from my spirit guides and Google,” she added with a wink.
“Here’s the thing. If you want to change what happened to them, you have to go back to the inciting incident, which was…” Maude trailed off, waiting for Emma’s response.
“The night Fitz was kidnapped.”
Maude nodded, “Indeed. If you can go back to that incident again and focus on the minds of his kidnapers, you may be able to learn where they took him. Because unless I misunderstood what I read and what my spirit guides told me, he was believed to be dead, so everyone simply gave up. It wasn’t until years later, when his son Noah was of age and the Spaniards had been removed from the castle, that his family’s royal legacy continued, yes?”
“Yes,” Emma nodded, “but what if I can’t get into their minds? What if I can’t see where they’ve taken him? What if I can’t communicate with Fitz?”
“Then you must find someone who has reincarnated, because my guides also told me you are surrounded by the past, meaning these men and others from the past, who have returned to continue their work, to keep you two apart.”
Alexandra. Emma thought.
Maude was watching her intently and nodded. “You see it now, don’t you? Alexandra is the most dangerous of all.”
Who else? Emma wondered. Who else had traveled forward with Alexandra?
“You need to dig in and figure it out. Figure out who else is part of this, because I can tell you right now, whether Alexandra knows it or not, she has help. And I don’t think she knows, not really, since she’s so hyper-focused on you, and not in a good way. The girl means you harm, my dear.”
Emma hauled in a deep breath. She’d already experienced it firsthand, when Alexandra brought her to the palace.
“Tonight I’m going to ask my spirit guides to help you, and Peyton”—she gave a nod across the table—“you should do the same.”
Maude sipped her tea, set down her cup, and then said, “And there’s something else. Emma, if you do this, you must know it won’t guarantee that you and Peter will be together. In fact, you may create an even bigger enemy in Alexandra.” She paused for a moment.
“Whatever vengeance she is living out in this life, however unexplained to her, fuels itself and feeds on the past, even if she isn’t fully aware of it. Her spirit is pure evil.” Emma saw the shudder.
Maude closed her eyes for a moment. When they shot open, she gazed at Emma, covering her hand with her own.
“Death swirls around you, my dear. Be very careful.”
chapter 12
It was hard to avoid hearing about, or seeing, the “royal visit.” Whomever they hired had done a damned good job getting Peter and Alexandra onto just about every major show imaginable. Even The View—which was such an odd placement, Emma couldn’t understand what had possessed the producer to invite them on.
“Slow news week,” Emma said to herself as she walked out of her office building.
“G’night, Miss Emma,” Shep, one of the lobby guards said.
“’Night, Shep. Got big plans for the missus tonight?” she asked. It was Shep’s fortieth anniversary.
“Oh, yes, ma’am. I’m taking her to the restaurant you recommended. Got a table with a view of the Manhattan skyline, too.”
Emma grinned. “She’ll love it! Happy anniversary, Shep.”
Shep nodded, tipped his cap to her, and threw her a broad, somewhat crooked smile.
Emma pushed the big glass door open and wondered if she’d ever be able to celebrate her fortieth anniversary.
Doubtful.
These days she spent more time in other people’s lives than her own.
She hadn’t made any more journeys to the 1800s since visiting Maude. First, she needed to figure out how to get into the kidnappers’ heads. The actual kidnapping of Fitz took only minutes, and she’d need longer than that to accomplish what she had in mind.
Reading minds wasn’t her forte; it was Peyton’s area of expertise. But since Peyton couldn’t time travel with her, it didn’t do her much good. If she went back, she’d have to figure out a way to delay their departure, and she already knew there was no easy way to do it. As a woman in those times, she had limited options. If she pushed too hard, the kidnappers might take her, too, which would be an even bigger disaster. Leaving their children without parents and facing a changed future was not an acceptable option. God knew what historical consequences that could have.
Emma pondered the problem while she walked up Fifth Avenue and turned down a side street. She spotted a TV through the window of one of the Irish pubs she was about to pass. The TV was against a wall near the street, and sadly, she had a great view. She wanted to just keep walking, but something stopped her. There they were: Peter and his fiancée, Alexandra. She tried not to focus on Peter, instead noticing the women huddled in front of the TV swooning over the Prince.
“Did you even know about this guy?” one of the young women asked, elbowing another.
“Oh, hellll no, girl. If I did, don’t you think I would have mentioned it? He’s mega hot.” She sipped her drink.
“I would love to have an hour with him,” another girl said, and then everything clicked into place, and Emma knew exactly what to do.
chapter 13
Emma found herself at NBC/Today studios the next morning, but she didn’t go through the front entrance. Instead she went on a route that didn’t take her through the main lobby. A cameraman she knew was willing to help when she told him she was secretly a huge royal watcher and just wanted to stand in the background and watch the interview between Prince Peter and his soon-to-be-princess, Alexandra.
Emma was fairly certain her lie was tissue-thin enough that he could see through it if he wanted, especially if he’d seen any of the press about her. He would probably think she was stalking Peter. But Emma didn’t care what he thought. She was sticking by her royal-watcher-might-be-a-stalker story.
It was a more than plausible excuse. The entire country was enamored with Peter, and Emma could only imagine how much he hated the spotlight. But Alexandra couldn’t get enough of it, and when she was ushered on the set, Emma could tell from her demeanor that she was in heaven. Emma watched while she smiled and shook hands with the hosts, every one of them eager to meet the royal couple. Alexandra played her part perfectly.
Americans love their royals, Emma thought, and she stayed back far enough so Peter couldn’t spot her, and yet she could see them clearly. Her cameraman friend handed her a set of headphones so she’d be less obviously a visitor. She had told him she would be incredibly embarrassed if the hosts spotted her, but it was a lie. She’d gotten many of her clients on The Today Show, but Emma knew these shows dealt with so many people, the only person who might recognize her was the producer, and producers were never on the set.
The camera area was fairly dark because of the bright set lights pointed directly at the staging area. Emma could easily close her eyes without anyone noticing it. She needed to tune into Alexandra and look into her past lives, and, thankfully, it was much easier to “tune in” rather than to experience the life as she’d been doing. If she wanted, Emma could tune in and out all day with surprisingly little effort.
She only hoped there weren’t too many lives to skim through, though bad souls often came back again and again because they had to keep re-learning the same lesson. As Emma sifted through Alexandra’s dark past, she skipped over eras that didn’t matter. A Nazi officer in the 1940s (no surprise there), then a gangster in the 1920s, and then Emma found the man she sought. She must have
arrived weeks before the kidnapping, because Alexandra, or whatever her/his name was back then, was talking to one of the other kidnappers, plotting that horrible night.
Emma felt sick while she watched and listened.
“We take him back to Spain,” the other man said.
“No,” was the simple, firm response.
Emma knew from history that the kidnappers had never been identified by name, only by region. No one but Anna-Maria had ever gotten close enough to identify them. Until one of them lost his mask while Emma watched.
Emma tuned in and sharpened the focus of the scene. Alex’s past life counterpart was pacing the room. She’d been quite a large man back then, tall and sturdy and unshaven, with greasy hair. There was nothing even remotely attractive or Alexandra-like, except for the evil which saturated this person’s aura. It was identical to what she experienced the first time she met Alex.
Emma listened while the two men argued about where to lock up the King once they had him in their possession.
Then the man-who-was-Alex slapped the heavy wooden table so hard it bounced up and hit the stone floor with such a clap, Emma almost jumped.
Which was when Emma hit pay dirt. The Alexandra-man issued his orders clearly and decisively.
But to be sure, Emma scrolled through the man’s mind, clicking forward in time to right after the kidnapping—and there he was.
Fitz.
Held captive in a dirty, smelly prison.
Emma now knew exactly where Fitz was held prisoner.
chapter 14
The Today Show was their final interview before Alexandra and Peter got back on a plane and headed to Belgium. By noon that day they were already in the air on their way home.
Emma was glad, and not surprised, when Peter didn’t make contact once Alex was in town. Alexandra wouldn’t have let him out of her sight for a second, and besides, what was there to say?
Emma was at her desk when her iPhone buzzed with a text from Peyton, who was still staying with her at her apartment.
How did it go?
Great! I found out! Emma shot back.
Tell!
Later, tonight, running to a meeting now.
Em, one thing. I need to teach you how to remember the information. When you’re back there and deep into Anna-Maria’s head, you may not.
Sounds good, Cuz. Love you, Emma texted back before slipping her phone in her pocket, grabbing her iPad, and heading into the meeting.
. . .
It had taken a great effort of will not to reach out to Emma again while still in the US. He hadn’t seen her since the meeting Walter helped him arrange, but he thought of her during every deplorable minute he was stuck playing happy fiancé with Alexandra, whom he deftly avoided during their off-camera times. They remained in separate rooms and ate separately whenever their meals weren’t attended by yet another media representative, and now they were headed back to Belgium, and Peter could do nothing now but hope he’d hear from Emma soon.
He thought of little besides their conversation and the incredible story Emma revealed to him. Had it been anyone else, he probably wouldn’t have believed it. There certainly was no real evidence to support it except for the pictures of Anna-Maria and Fitz and what his heart was telling him.
When they were about an hour away from landing in Brussels, Alexandra walked over to him and sat down in the big leather chair across from his. Peter ignored her and continued to work on the stack of papers in front of him.
“Darling,” she began.
How he hated it when she called him that. “I want to thank you for giving us a week in New York. It was wonderful.” She reached over a hand to touch him, but he pulled back.
He glanced at her as he withdrew, and saw something flicker in her eyes. Anger, and another emotion he couldn’t quite place. Alexandra was up to something. He just wished he knew what it was.
She sighed then, a big, exaggerated sigh and said, “We are going to be married, Peter, and I wish you could…”
“Could what, Alexandra? Lie down and accept my fate?”
Her mouth tightened briefly before she glanced out the window. When she looked back to Peter her expression was relaxed, and she raised her eyebrows, settling back into the leather chair with a seductive moue.
“A lot of men would be thrilled to be in your shoes.”
“Then you should look them up,” Peter said, returning his attention to the papers.
“You need to forget that whore,” Alexandra hissed.
But Peter heard her and set his papers down, narrowing his eyes at her. “What did you say?”
Alexandra rolled her eyes and looked away as a stewardess approached with two glasses of champagne. Alexandra accepted a glass, but Peter shook his head. “Water, please.” He gave a half smile to the young woman, who looked a bit terrified, having probably overheard Alexandra’s whore comment.
When the stewardess left to get Peter’s water, Alexandra tossed back the champagne, nearly emptying the glass in one gulp. The young woman returned to set a glass of sparkling water with a lime on Peter’s table and retreated again quickly.
When she was out of earshot Alexandra said, “She’s gone, Peter.”
For a moment, Peter wasn’t sure what she meant. Gone? He decided to ignore her, already sick to death of sparring with Alex. But her choice of words—she’s gone—rattled him. But he shook it off, picked up his papers, and moved to another seat.
chapter 15
Emma was on her way home when she heard a female voice screaming for help. It was coming from an alley, and as Emma approached, she could see a young girl being pinned down by two large men.
Emma was ready to scream at them to stop, but then realized they were probably armed, so she dialed 911 to report it. But while the girl continued screaming and struggling, Emma realized she couldn’t just stand there. Guns or no, she had to do something.
The alley was fairly dark, except for a few dim lights hanging over back entrances to the bar and two restaurants occupying the buildings. Emma sneaked into the shadows, intending to throw open the back door of one of the restaurants and yell for help. At this hour, they’d be packed full of kitchen and wait staff.
She was about halfway down and the girl was still struggling, when Emma heard something rip. No doubt the girl’s shirt while they proceeded to yank it off her.
How long it had been since she called 911? Two minutes tops. Given evening traffic, it could take them another five or seven for the police to arrive. Emma reached a door and tried to yank it open, but it was locked.
Of course it was. Vagrants often slept in alleys, and the last thing any business needed was for one of them to wander in the back door of their business.
Just then one of the men saw her.
Emma froze.
“What the hell?” she heard one of them exclaim, and then in a flash she saw the shimmer of his weapon, heard a gunshot…
And then nothing else.
Both men and the girl ran through the alley and past a dying Emma as they beat it out of there with sirens wailing little more than a block away.
chapter 16
Something was wrong. Peter knew it the minute they landed. His chest hurt, and then there was stillness, and a nameless fear grabbed hold of him.
Emma. Her name entered his mind as it did a million times a day, but this time it was different.
Something had gone terribly, possibly tragically, wrong.
. . .
Peter and Alexandra rode home from the airport in complete silence. In spite of the silence and his nameless forebodings, Peter couldn’t help but notice she seemed off. She wasn’t outwardly nervous, but…Expectant? Whatever it was, he could not quite bring it into focus.
“I’m looking forward to our life together,” Alexandra said with no emotion
whatsoever in her voice, not even a hint of the fake-happy she’d trotted out for their meetings with media. As though she’d resigned herself to the fact that this was her fate, an ill-suited marriage to a man who despised her. She didn’t even care, at least not enough to call it off. Which was all it would have taken.
That or a miracle.
Peter looked up from his paperwork, which he had remained focused on the entire flight and all through in the limo ride from the Brussels airport.
He opened his mouth to respond, but something jolted him again.
Something about Emma.
He felt a snakebite of anxiety creep up his spine.
“We’re here,” was all he said and the long, sleek black limousine came to a smooth stop in front of the palace.
Alexandra emerged first, assisted by the head butler, who nodded to her and murmured a quick “welcome home” as she smiled and emerged from the car.
The entire house staff stood in a long line up the palace steps to greet them. No doubt Father’s idea, Peter thought.
“How lovely, darling. Look, the staff is here to welcome us home.” Alexandra threw him a fake smile that was meant to be sexy but only succeeded in turning his stomach.
Peter quickly stepped from the car, ignored her outstretched hand, and headed in the other direction.
“My love,” Alexandra began, letting her hand drop to her side, “where are you going?” The staff was watching, and the annoyance in her voice was sharp.
“I have to speak with Astrid. I will be in shortly,” he said without looking back, while he hurried in long strides to see his dear friend.
. . .
Astrid answered on the first knock, as though she was expecting him.
“Come in, my dear boy,” she said warmly. She was the breath of fresh air Peter needed, and he kissed her lightly on the cheek and walked past her into her cozy home.
A Royal Affair Series: Book 1, 2, and 3: A paranormal, time travel, royal romance Page 21
