Once Upon a Time Travel

by Sariah Wilson

  Fearful hope began to bubble up inside me. Was he saying what I thought he was saying? A clap of thunder caused me to jump, and all of my nerve endings felt frayed. It was too much.

  Hartley quickly slid across the carriage to sit next to me. Even though I was furious with him, his proximity was doing funny things to my insides.

  “You said once that you loved the story of Cinderella because the prince was willing to scour the kingdom to find her.” His voice was low and sexy and much too tempting, his words hot against my neck. I closed my eyes, but that seriously only made it worse. “I would scour the kingdom for you. I would have scoured time itself for you. If you had gone back to your century, I would have found a way to follow you. I can’t make you a princess, but I can make you a countess, which is infinitely better because then you don’t have to live with the royal family.”

  “What . . .” I found it hard to concentrate when the side of my neck was tingling like that. “What are you saying?”

  “My darling girl.” He reached out and put one of his hands at the back of my neck and used the other to stroke the side of my face. And even though his sleeves were soaking wet, he still managed to create fire eddies everywhere he touched. “I’m saying I love you.”

  All the air was sucked out of the carriage. I could not catch my breath. “You what now?”

  “I love you.”

  “But I heard you. Earlier. You said you didn’t love me and didn’t want to marry me.”

  Hartley leaned in, his lips whispering against my cheeks, sending shivers across my spine. “I was such a fool. I was trying to convince myself because I was afraid to love you. Because loving you meant that if I lost you, I might never recover. And some part of me feared that you would go back to your own time and leave me, and it would be the worst thing to ever happen to me. And my apologies if you fancy yourself in love with James, but James be hanged.”

  His wet hair dripped onto me, and I should have been cold. I wasn’t. His words burned me, imprinted on my heart, seared me in a way that made me his.

  My poor befuddled brain, hazy and intoxicated from his nearness and confused by him saying one thing earlier and another thing now, couldn’t sort it all out. The very last thing I had expected was for him to chase after me and tell me he loved me and if I wasn’t mistaken, that he wanted to marry me.

  His lips pressed against my forehead, so gently, so sweetly, that I was ready to start crying again. “You choose now, of all times, to fall silent?”

  “I . . . I don’t know what to say.”

  I felt him smile against my skin. “Had I known it would render you this quiet, I would have confessed my adoration months ago.”

  “Oh, ha ha—”

  His mouth was on mine, and while this kiss had all the passion and heat of our earlier ones, now there was something more. Something that still managed to make me go limp and hazy, but there was this deeper connection. I could feel his love for me. He used his kisses to show me how much he adored me, how much he wanted me, how I belonged to him and he belonged to me. It was like he was taking pieces of my soul and offering his own in return.

  It was the kind of kiss that changed everything.

  “Holy crap,” I whispered when he stopped and rested his forehead against mine.

  “Eloquent as ever. ‘Holy crap,’ indeed.”

  “You really love me.”

  He dropped a kiss on the bottom of my earlobe, which for some reason turned my knees to jelly. I was glad I was sitting down.

  “It hasn’t been apparent after the way I’ve been mooning after you like some lovesick boy? Are all women in the twenty-first century so daft headed?”

  I so loved this man. I even loved him when he teased me.

  Which I hadn’t told him yet. And probably should.

  “By the way, because it sounds like you don’t know, I don’t love James. I love you. I’ve loved you for so long that I don’t remember what it’s like not to love you. I came back in time for you.” I heard his breath catch, and I kissed him then, trying to show him the way he had shown me. He wrapped me in his arms, pulling me onto his lap, and kissed me into oblivion, making me forget what I had been trying to accomplish in the first place.

  “Please don’t ever leave me again,” he murmured against my throat, giving me goose bumps.

  “I guess I can stay for as long as you need me.”

  “I plan on needing you for forever.”

  That worked for me. As did the making out that immediately followed.

  When we were finally forced to come up for air, I laid my head against his shoulder. I had not only mourned the loss of him but the loss of home. And I had found both, here in his arms.

  “Marry me.”

  This time when he said it, it wasn’t about honor or codes or anything else. I loved him, and he loved me, and that was all that mattered.

  “Are you asking or commanding me as lord of the manor?”

  That made him laugh, which made me laugh. “Asking. But willing to command it if the answer is no.”

  I wished he could see my eyes, to see into my soul and know how very much I meant the word, “Yes.”

  There was more kissing and talking. I told him I had found the spell to take me home and why I hadn’t left. He told me about his realizations that night and what had happened when he found me bloody and unconscious. I told him that I would happily stay in this century, with his family. “Because you’re worth giving up showers for,” I said.

  “We should have been honest from the beginning,” he said in between kisses. “We would have saved ourselves a great deal of heartache. Promise me that we’ll never keep anything from each other ever again.”

  “I promise.”

  Whoops. I was still keeping one secret from him. And I had rationalized it away earlier, thinking it wasn’t my secret to tell, but I wanted a completely clean slate. “I realize this might sound crazy, about as crazy as time travel—which happened, keep that in mind. But your sisters, your mother, your aunts . . . they’re witches.”

  Of all the things I expected him to say in response, the one I hadn’t anticipated was, “Oh yes. I know.”

  “What?”

  “All the men in our family know. Fathers tell sons and sons-in-law. We’ve always known. But the women believe that we don’t, and we let them think it. Only men who love them are allowed to know. It’s why the women of my family always marry for love. Their fathers would not permit it to be any other way. They are too special to be with any man or in a marriage of convenience.” He pushed back the hair from his forehead. “One of my earliest memories is of my oldest sister levitating me on my rocking horse six feet up in the air. I fell off and got this scar.”

  Aha! That’s where the scar came from.

  “Not to mention my mother had a rather extensive collection of occult books.”

  I heard the soft sound of bells and horses neighing from somewhere behind us. It made me remember where we were and what we’d been doing. “Your poor coachman sitting out in this rain the whole time we’ve been sucking face.”

  “I sent him home on Neptune when I arrived. I instructed him to let them know that we were safe. But I believe we’re about to have company. If I had to wager a guess, I would bet it is my aunt.”

  Sighing heavily, I slid off his lap and over to the opposite bench. He moved like he was about to follow me. “Sit down. Propriety and stuff, remember?”

  I could feel his grin from here given our lack of said propriety and stuff for the last hour or so. “It would not matter now. We’ve been alone together in the dark and we have to wed.”

  Sneaky, adorable jerk. “What are we going to tell them?” Some tiny part of me, despite all his reassurances, feared he might want to take back his words when confronted with his family.

  He immediately put those fears to rest. “I will tell them that you have bewitched me. Enchanted me. Brought my cold, dead heart back to life.”

  I leaned over to smack h
im on the arm. “You can’t say that. Then Charles will know I told you. And I’m not a witch at all. I just want to be clear.”

  “I’m not certain I believe that,” he said, the smile in his voice evident. “Because every kiss from you, my beautiful Emma, feels like a magical spell being cast upon my soul.”

  I so loved it when he said my real name. I was going to cast a lot of spells on him later.

  The other carriage pulled up alongside ours, and the flames in the covered lamps showed that it was Charles who pulled back the curtain with an inquisitive expression, James peering over her shoulder. “Well? Did she say yes?” his aunt asked.

  “She said yes,” Hartley confirmed. I heard James hoot and Charles’s sound of triumph.

  They congratulated us, and we thanked them. Charles had brought along an extra coachman with her, and he turned our carriage around to take us back to Rosewood. I half expected her to join us or demand that one of us get in the other carriage, but she didn’t. They left us alone.

  Which had Hartley back by my side, holding me and kissing me. It was like he couldn’t get enough of me, which I understood given that I felt exactly the same way.

  Lightning flashed outside, but I was busy and barely noticed it.

  “It seems that when we are together, like this, the storms don’t scare you,” Hartley observed as he wrapped a loose curl around his finger.

  He was right. Being in Hartley’s embrace made me feel safe and caused the rest of the world to disappear. “I guess you’ll just have to kiss me every time there’s a storm.”

  “There are a great deal of storms in England,” he warned in a teasing tone. “But I suppose that can be arranged.”

  I wanted to tell him I was looking forward to it, but then he made everything else cease to exist.

  * * *

  We were married six weeks later to the surprise of absolutely no one. I had wanted a small affair, just immediate family, but nobody would hear of it. Julia and Jessica were sent for, and I finally got the chance to know and love his younger sisters as they helped me plan and prepare for the wedding. I adored them as much as I did Jane, James, and Charles. Jemima was to be our flower girl but only if she promised not to use any magic whatsoever.

  The one black mark on my day was that Bex couldn’t have been there with me as my maid of honor. I knew I would miss her, but this was where I belonged.

  I wasn’t allowed to have a white wedding gown, as that apparently wasn’t a thing yet, and I ended up with a beautiful pale-blue muslin dress with a silver overlay, his family’s colors. A fact which delighted him, but I was the only person who could tell that, as he put on a somber face for what seemed to be the entire population of London (Charles had not been kidding when she said they were related to practically everyone in the ton). He looked ridiculously handsome in his black cutaway jacket and top hat. They made his eyes appear even bluer.

  Early in the morning at St. George’s Church in Hanover Square, I plighted him my troth (whatever that meant), and he gave me a gold wedding ring to wear, and we kissed, ever so briefly. I carried white orange blossoms in my bouquet, knowing how much he loved the scent. There was a breakfast at the townhouse afterward, and everywhere I went, with everyone I talked to, I could feel my husband’s loving gaze on me.

  The best part? Our wedding cake was a giant Twinkie. People remarked on the unusualness of our choice, but I couldn’t stop grinning as we cut the cake and served it to our legion of guests.

  Then having waited long enough, Hartley announced our departure. Which was just upstairs to his room. There was a final toast to our longevity and happiness, a demand for another brief kiss, and then Hartley was rushing me out of the room and to the stairs.

  “While we are already across the threshold, I have decided to compensate by carrying you to our rooms.” Without warning he swooped my legs out from under me and started climbing.

  “There are a lot of stairs.” And I was not light. Yes, he was strong and masculine and impressive, but still.

  “It is an ancient tradition. I am carrying you up these stairs, and that is final. Now please be quiet so I can concentrate.” His steps seemed to be slowing a bit.

  “Now there’s a turn-on. ‘Oh baby, be quiet, would ya?’”

  He gave me one of his looks, but I still giggled.

  “You know, Rhett Butler carried Scarlett O’Hara up the stairs in about two seconds.”

  His grip on me tightened. “Really? And who is this Mr. Butler you speak of?”

  “He’s a character from a book. And a movie. About the Civil War.”

  Was it my imagination, or did he sound a little winded? “Civil War? That sounds like a contradiction in terms.”

  “It’s a war that will take place in America in about fifty years over slavery. North versus South. The North’s going to win.”

  Hartley readjusted how he was holding me, pausing for a moment. “It sounds as if those doing business with the southern half of the United States will lose a great deal of money.”

  I wasn’t a witch, but I realized that I had the ability to make my new husband rich beyond our wildest imaginations. I knew everything that was coming and when it would happen.

  No wonder Charlie Portwood had so much money in the future. It was probably all thanks to me.

  We got to the first landing, and Hartley leaned up against the wall. “There are more stairs than I remember.”

  “You could put me down, and I could walk, Mr. Macho. I can’t help the way I am. Not all of us can be miniature like Lady Kitty.”

  “But if I were carrying Lady Kitty, I would be there by now.”

  Outrage made my jaw drop, and I smacked him against the shoulder while he laughed, his shoulders shaking both him and me. I never should have told him how jealous I was of her and him. “Why do you say stuff like that?”

  “Because I love to tease you, Countess. The way your eyes blaze, how your cheeks blush pink. I find it very fetching and plan on investigating how far that blush goes very soon.”

  He kissed me—a kiss that was a promise of things to come. I couldn’t believe how much I loved this man.

  Hartley resumed his trek. “Speaking of, has anyone addressed what’s about to occur?”

  “The wedding night? No, nobody gave me the talk.” I was actually a little disappointed that neither Charles nor Jane had stepped up to the plate. Not even for a “lie back and think of England” kind of deal. “But I probably know more about it than you might imagine. I had movies and the Internet. We even learned about it in school.”

  That made him stop cold. “In school?”

  “Yeah. I know what’s supposed to happen, just not how it feels. But I do know that if you’re any good at it, I’ll enjoy it.”

  There was a wicked gleam in his eyes that made me fall in love with him all over again. “Was that a challenge, Lady Hartley?”

  I couldn’t believe the thrill that sent straight through my core. “I think it was, Lord Hartley.”

  “You know that I never back away from a challenge.”

  I nipped his neck. “I’m counting on it.”

  Suddenly he flew up the last flights of stairs as if I weighed no more than a feather, which made me laugh. We were in his room, and he kicked the door shut behind us, laying me gently on his bed. He stood over me, studying me. “Do you know how often I have imagined this moment?”

  Probably as often as I had. I felt nervous, but it was heavily outweighed by the anticipation and excitement. One of my shoes slipped off my foot, landing on the floor.

  “Look at that. Lost shoe. Now I really am Cinderella.”

  His fingers brushed the inside of my arch, making me all shivery. “You haven’t the feet for it, my love.”

  I gasped in mock outrage as he laughed, and I pulled him to me so that we could kiss. When he leaned back and started pulling the pins from my hair, I asked, “Do you think we’ll live happily ever after?”

  Hartley paused, his expression so full
of love it made my heart swell. “My darling wife, our story began once upon a time. Happily ever after is the only possible way it could end.”

  EPILOGUE

  “Hartley, I am not kidding. If he has leeches, you are going to break every jar. Promise me you won’t let him put any leeches on me.” Another labor pain hit, and I gritted my teeth and tried to yell less loudly than I had been. I also tried not to think about how often mothers and babies died during or shortly after childbirth and that I was doing this without a hospital or modern medicine. I had never understood why anyone in my century would choose a home birth on purpose. Studying history taught you just how often things could, and did, go wrong.

  “I promise, my love. No leeches.” Hartley kissed my forehead, and I wanted to punch him. Why was he touching me? “Are you quite certain it wouldn’t be better for me to be downstairs while you . . .”

  I grabbed him by the front of his shirt and yanked him down to me. “You did this to me, and you can be here to support me. I don’t care what men usually do after they knock up their wives and then force them to labor all by themselves. This is what you’re doing.”

  “You’re making the doctor blush,” he murmured, and I could not have cared less whether or not that man was embarrassed. He was about to get a full frontal view of my nether regions, but I wasn’t allowed to talk about how this pregnancy had actually started?

  Another wave of pain hit me, and I began saying random stuff about Hartley and his family. Like I was speaking in tongues.

  Apparently not all of it had been kind, as Hartley looked insulted when he replied, “I’ll have you know my mother was a lovely woman, thank you very much.”

  Why wasn’t he holding my hand? Didn’t he know that I needed him to touch me?

  “Make the doctor scrub his hands in hot water with soap. Under the fingernails, too. Clean gloves if he has them. And if he’s using any instruments, have him sanitize them in a flame.” None of this was new information. I had been drilling it into my husband for months now. “I am so hot. Get these blankets off me.”

  Hartley did as I asked, and another wave of pain slammed into me, and there was more yelling and possibly more casting aspersions on his parentage.