Time Travel 02 Nothing but Time

by Angeline Fortin

  “Ahh, I see. What else did you learn?”

  Nathan continued to ramble on telling her about the innovation of paper boats, made from layering sheets of wet paper over a mold and sealing the hull with a special resin. From what she gathered from the boy’s description, Kate thought the boat must be rather like a fiberglass hull. The result was a lightweight boat. Brand’s personal single scull, although thirty feet in length, weighed only thirty pounds explaining his ability to lift it to his shoulder so easily.

  Brand would also be using a recently patented swivel oarlock on his single scull. It was something causing no little comment among the men of his club, but Brand was certain they would give him an advantage. Nathan bemoaned the fact that they would have to wait until the next day to see that race, as the single scull wouldn’t be run until then.

  The coxless pair race, two rowers without a coxswain, was finally announced, drawing their attention. It would be a race between three boats. The London Rowing Club team of Smith and Gulston would be racing in the Berkshire lane, the lane closest to the Berkshire side of the river. Brand and his friend, Nicholas Weller, representing the Leander Club would be in the Centre lane and Campbell and Davidy from the Twickenham Rowing Club would row the Buckinghamshire lane.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “Ahh, bad luck that,” Nathan moaned.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Uncle Brandon says that being in the Berkshire lane gives an advantage to that team with the curve in that last quarter mile. See there, at the bend? The team closest to the far shore can cut the corner a bit gaining distance,” he pointed.

  “That’s not fair!” Kate protested.

  “Uncle Brandon said that the Berkshire side team most always wins.” Nathan stuffed more of his meat pie in his mouth muffling the words. “He said not to worry about it, when he raced here for Oxford, he won more than his share in the same fashion.”

  “Still, that just not right!”

  A murmuring grew around them and Nathan slung a leg over the rail again to lean out over the edge prompting Kate to grab his arm before he fell in. “Here they come! Here they come!”

  Anchoring them both as best she could, Kate locked her eyes on the center lane as she watched the racers approach. The distant figures came steadily closer allowing Kate to make out Brand’s blond head and broad shoulders as he labored behind his partner. The men’s backs strained and their shoulders rotated as the dipped the oars in unison and pulled mightily only to slide forward and do it again. Though Kate longed to see his face, she couldn’t help but appreciate the play of muscles under his shirt. Indeed, Kate might have been sighing in rapture at the sweaty, masculine picture he presented if that shirt was not, well, almost pink.

  “Why is your uncle wearing a pink shirt?” Kate asked beneath her breath. While it might be socially acceptable in her time for a man to wear that shade without having his inclinations questioned, it certainly wasn’t a color she’d seen on any man since her arrival here.

  “It isn’t pink,” Nathan replied. “It’s light cherry. It’s the official color of the club. You can see it on the end of their oars as well. See.”

  “Looks pretty darn pink to me,” she returned watching the oars move in and out of the water. Pink.

  Voices grew around them and, diverted by the commotion, Kate joined in cheering for Brand as the boats speedily approached. The Leander Club boat was neck and neck with the team from the London Rowing Club with the Twickenham team falling a handful of lengths behind them. It had become a race between the two forerunners. Shouts grew in volume as first one boat then the other lunged into the lead and soon they were all screaming at the top of their lungs as the boats crossed the finish line but, looking down, Kate could see that Brand’s boat crossed just behind the one from the London Rowing Club to come in second in the race.

  “Oh, drat!” Nathan muttered as the shouts died down leaving only the polite, social applause from the Stewards’ Enclosure.

  “He did great, Nathan,” Kate said, tousling his hair. “Don’t sound so down.”

  “But he lost, Kate,” the boy pouted, hanging limply over the rail once more.

  “Hey, he raced, right? He wasn’t even planning on that, so I think it was a great effort. Your uncle is a lot bigger than most rowers, I think, and the weight probably drags them down. He had to work really hard just to help get them where they were,” Kate told her student but seeing that he didn’t appreciate her explanation, added, “Besides, he still has his single race to run, right?”

  “Right,” Nathan agreed unhappily.

  “Hey, let’s go see him, all right?”

  Enthusiasm returned, Nathan leaped up with a wide smile and raced ahead of her back toward the left bank where the boats were angling in. Nathan hopped about impatiently while Brand and Weller pulled their boat from the water and lifted it over their heads, sending a wave of appreciative sighs rippling through the female portion of the gathered crowd, a sentiment Kate heartily agreed with. They carried it past the immediate crowd until they reached an empty plot of land and set down the boat in an area cordoned off for that purpose.

  The winners were being congratulated enthusiastically. Brand and Weller received slaps to their backs with smiles and nods and it was easy to see as Kate approached that they were pleased by their performance.

  Kate and Nathan waited while Brand and Nicholas Weller shook hands with the winners from the London Club and accepted condolences from others around them giving Kate a chance to get her first good look at what he was wearing. Brand was dressed in a fashion Kate had never expected to see. His shirt was comparable to a thinly-knit… well, Henley sweater, not to put too fine a point on it. Though the trio of buttons at the neckline were securely fastened, the absence of a high collar highlighted the thickly corded muscles of his neck and shoulders and clung to his muscular chest. His trousers were long, grey and fitted.

  Despite the pinkish nature of the Henley, Brand was simply gorgeous in the athletic wear. His hair was mussed, his eyes bright. Gone was the serious countenance he normally wore and in its place was that devastating smile that never failed to set Kate’s heart pounding.

  “Oooo, baby,” she sighed under her breath, not aware of the vocalization of the sentiment, but only of the deep pounding of her heart.

  “What did you say?” Nathan wanted to know.

  “Nothing, nothing,” she said quickly. Thankfully, Kate was saved from further questioning when Brand took notice of them, his eyes capturing hers, and cast a smile in their direction.

  “Why does Uncle Brandon look so happy, Kate?” Nathan wanted to know. “He lost.”

  “Haven’t you ever heard the old saying, it isn’t whether you win or lose but how you play the game?” she asked.

  “Well, no.”

  “Well, go ask your uncle why he’s so happy then.”

  The earl greeted his nephew cheerfully though his eyes never left Kate. His blue eyes were warm, filled with appreciation bringing a blush to Kate’s cheeks. He was remembering the night prior, not their parting but the passionate moments that had preceded it. Again, Kate felt the ardor of his kiss, the strength of his body pressed against hers, the heat that flowed between them. Feeling that same heat begin to melt her bones once more.

  “Uncle Brandon, why are you so happy?”

  Still holding Kate’s hot gaze, the earl replied meaningfully, “With the sights to be found in Henley, who wouldn’t be happy?”

  Kate’s blush deepened, a quiver of untimely desire rushing down her limbs. If Brand didn’t stop looking at her like that, she was bound to melt right there!

  “But you lost!” Nathan protested, finally gaining his uncle’s full attention.

  “I was not the victor, true,” Brand agreed, “but I did my best and very nearly overtook the leader at the end. Considering the length of time since I’ve competed, I’m satisfied by my performance.”

  Nathan nodded solemnly. “Kate said it’s not whether you
win or lose but how you play the game.”

  “Just so. Your tutor is a most astute woman.”

  Brand met Kate’s eyes once again making her wonder what message they held. It seemed that everything he had denied her verbally the night before was there in those blue eyes. Promise, where before there had been rejection. Was Brand on the losing end of his internal fight? Or was it just her imagination?

  “Hello, what have we here, Harrowby?” a voice broke in and Kate turned to see Brand’s rowing partner approach, his outfit identical to Brand’s. Where Brand looked rugged and manly in the ensemble, however, this man had a dubious look about him.

  Shifty, Kate thought, though most of the men in this time with their oiled and combed back hair and long, handlebar mustaches tended to send the same unpleasant vibe through her. They reminded her of barbershop quartet singers or the German accordion players in the polka bands that dominated the weddings she attended as a child.

  Whether it was the result of an over-zealous version of ‘Roll Out the Barrel’ or some other forgotten childhood trauma, those men just gave Kate the creeps.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “Weller!” Harrowby greeted and laid a hand on his nephew’s shoulder proudly. “Nathan, may I present my rowing partner, Mr. Nicholas Weller. Weller, my nephew and heir, Master Nathan Ralston.”

  The newspaperman gave a small bow and held out his hand for Nathan to shake before turning his gaze on Kate and offering his hand. “And who is this lovely lady?”

  There was enough appreciation in his friend’s voice to rouse an unfamiliar irritation in Harrowby as he glanced back and forth between Weller, noting his admiring assessment of Kate, and Kate’s answering flush. For a moment, Harrowby thought Kate pleased by the man’s attention and felt a flash of unusual jealousy but then he noticed how her green eyes narrowed and her lip curled just the tiniest bit.

  Quashing his impulse to step between the pair, Harrowby absorbed their dissimilar appreciation, each for the other, feeling the rash protectiveness that had flared within him fizzle only to be replaced by good humor. It gladdened him that Kate wasn’t immediately taken by Weller; the chap was long known for his charm and had always had a way with the ladies since their Oxford days.

  “This is Miss Kallastad,” he answered though, despite his amusement, he was reluctant to encourage any interaction between the pair. “Master Nathan’s tutor.”

  “Tutor?” Weller repeated with raised brows as he considered her more thoughtfully before a slight leer lifted his mustache. “Ah, his tutor! Well played, Harrowby.”

  Kate’s green eyes narrowed darkly and the curl of her lip became a definite snarl. Harrowby stepped between them to scowl down at his long-time friend. It was just as he had come to realize the previous night. Any assumption of a link between him and Kate would cast doubts on her character. He was suddenly protective, wanting to shield Kate from any vilification. “Yes, tutor, Weller. Only a tutor.”

  “Only?”

  “Would I provide my heir anything less than the best education available?” Harrowby’s voice lowered dangerously.

  “Too bad, that.” Weller sighed after a moment. “My apologies for such a presumption, Miss Kallastad.”

  Kate glared at the man with clear contempt before snorting rudely. “Yeah, I can see you’re really torn up about it.”

  “Beg pardon?” he queried in confusion.

  “Excuse us, Weller,” Harrowby cut in, taking Kate by the arm and steering her away, knowing he would have to have words with his friend. Familiarity did not excuse such assumption, but this public venue was no place to confront Weller. “I would speak to you later though.”

  “What an asshole,” Kate complained as they walked away.

  Stopping short at her words, Harrowby looked down at his nephew. “Nathan, might I have a private word with Miss Kallastad?”

  Sensing the anger rolling off his usually cheerful tutor, Nathan nodded eagerly. “I’ll just await the next race then.” With a wave, he dashed toward the bridge gaining a spot near the railing where he promptly threw a leg over the edge.

  “Off that railing, Nathan Ralston!” Kate harped, venting her irritation, before Harrowby pulled her off the road and to a less populated spot near the side of the inn where they could speak more privately while still keeping Nathan in view.

  Keeping half his attention on his nephew, Harrowby grasped about for something to say to Kate knowing his friend had been unforgivably rude. He was hard pressed not to lay Weller out cold for leering so lasciviously at that which Harrowby considered his. Bloody hell, he ran a hand through his hair, but Kate’s words had gotten to him if that was how his mind was reasoning.

  “Some of the men around here just make me want to…” Kate mimed the wringing of a neck between her hands with an aggravated growl.

  “This is exactly what I had begun to fear, Kate,” Harrowby told her. “This is why I know I should not fraternize–“

  “With the help,” she finished for him with a huff. “I know. Yet somehow, you have time and again… Wait, you said ‘should not’, not ‘cannot’. Has something changed?”

  “My world has been ever changing since you arrived in it, Kate.”

  The last bit of anger leached its way out of Kate’s lovely face as she stared up at him, all of her attention solely on him and him alone. “Has it?”

  Her softly drawled words rubbed their way down Harrowby’s spine, sending warmth spiraling in its wake and making Harrowby realize he hadn’t yet vocalized his epiphany. “I realized last evening that it is not the moral lessons of my youth that have kept me from engaging in this affair de coeur with you but rather it is my affection for you and our budding friendship that has kept me from doing so.”

  “I don’t understand,” Kate said with a puzzled frown.

  “A man does not treat a woman he respects in such a fashion,” he explained.

  “Where I come from treating a person in such a fashion is exactly what happens when two people like and desire each other,” was Kate’s reply.

  “Then we come from two very different places,” he told her.

  “You have no idea,” Kate grumbled, but she had meant what she said and – while she might understand his point of view – wanted to work from a twenty-first century standard. That standard was very simply ‘boy meets girl, boy and girl like each other and find each other attractive, boy and girl make love’. Sure, she and Brand might have stepped up the pace when compared to the length of time it usually took her to reach that point but that didn’t make her want it any less.

  She wanted it all with Brand. She wanted his friendship, his company and his body.

  It might have been selfish on her part. It probably was selfish to cast his concerns aside without a care but… well, there was that Generation Me thing again, right?

  Kate groaned. Who was she to brush a man’s morals to the wayside? It wasn’t as if she wanted to change who he was. She liked who he was even if she did want to devour him whole.

  She only needed to be patient. Already he was softening his views. He’d gone from ‘cannot’ to ‘should not’ in the space of a week. A week that seemed like an eternity to Kate but she knew that this white-hot attraction was unusual and changed the typical rules. It wasn’t difficult for her to capitulate but, for a man like Brand who lived and breathed the rules, it would take more time for him to work it out.

  God knew, she had nothing but time these days.

  “So what do we do then? What do you suggest? A return to respectful but distant nods as we pass in the hallways?” The thought left a sour taste in Kate’s mouth and, despite her newly minted resolve to give Brand time to come around, she couldn’t help but add, “I gotta say, that doesn’t really work for me.”

  “It doesn’t… work for me, either,” he confessed, surprising Kate with the admission. “However, if I were to set my reservations to the side and indulge in this, I would be raising you up for unseemly speculation among the staff
. It could make life very difficult for you. You would have to see them daily wondering at the thoughts that would be running through their heads.”

  He was worried about her, Kate realized. His hesitations weren’t solely for the sake of his position but for hers. Considering the time she was in, Kate knew that his concerns were not necessarily unfounded. This time was the very source of Victorian principles after all. Moreover, with workplace gossip never out of style, engaging in an affair with one’s boss wasn’t the thing to do in any time. Given her current situation, living under his roof – the same roof as her co-workers – opportunity for discovery and speculation would abound.

  Kate studied Brand, not just the outer shell of devastating, rugged beauty but also the inner core of him that she was beginning to discover. There was so much about him that appealed to her. She wanted the chance to experience not simply what was certain to be the phenomenal wonder of making love with him but she also wanted to explore the parts of him that secretly longed for a strong family bond, that developed his sense of duty and responsibility. She wanted to know what prompted his rare flashes of humor, what inspired him to write.

  She wanted all of him and surely, a wanting of such magnitude was worth the risk?

  “And if I was aware of those risks and accepted them?”

  “I’m not sure if you understand how judgmental people can be,” he argued logically, though his heart and body leapt readily at her words. “I don’t want to take advantage of you, Kate.”

  “Would you be, I wonder?” she asked with a rueful smile. Leave it to a nineteenth century man to think that a woman was a thing to be taken advantage of, as if she played no role in making the decision or lacked the intelligence to reason out hazards that awaited her. To her surprise, his old-fashioned maleness didn’t offend but rather amused Kate. “I’m not saying I want to have sex with you… yet. But if we rounded second base, I doubt I would hold it against you.”

  “What is…?” Brand began but shook his head, drawing in a deep breath. “My apologies, this is neither the time nor the place to delve into that topic. Though the implication of your admission delights me, there is more I must confess. I have given some thought to what you said the other night regarding how I wasn’t truly living my life. About how I make you do things that you might not normally do. You expressed doubt as to whether you did the same to me, yes? I will admit your very presence tempts me to do things I would not otherwise do. I have befriended a servant in my home, I have had lustful thoughts about you and also have been tempted to put aside some basic moral guidelines that I have followed since I was a lad. You are a very strong temptation, Kate. You tempt me to do what I want rather than what I should.”