Saving Lord Avingdale

by Lisa Kumar

  “Is that so?”

  Time to sock it to him hard. She had to scare him off for her sanity—and maybe his. He thought he could handle her truth? Right now, she didn’t even want to face it. “A true gentleman would never keep me here.”

  “Whoever said I was a gentleman?” He again closed the distance between them. Reaching out, he placed his hand against her cheek. She waited for the expected chafing sensation to rip through her, but as before with him, it never came. As his fingers caressed her skin and sent tingles to her toes, she closed her eyes. His touch felt so right…blissful even. Though he could still be soon meant for death.

  He banded his arms about her, pulling her against him. They fit together perfectly. She sighed, all thoughts of death and the future slipping away. His kiss, when it came, knocked her off her feet—literally. Her knees buckled, and only the arms around her waist kept her afloat. His lips teased hers open, and she gladly allowed him entrance inside.

  Her hands clutched at the tight fabric that strained across his back. He groaned against her lips. After long minutes that seemed to stretch on forever but ended way too soon, they both drew apart. With a deep breath, he rested his forehead against hers. She savored the moment. Who knew if she’d ever experience it again?

  With that sobering thought, she pushed herself away from him. His brows snapped together, but he let her go.

  How and where did she start? She gave an internal shrug. Might as well put it all on the line. “You want to know what complicates everything? The future.”

  “The future?”

  “Yes, me being from it.”

  He blinked. “Can you repeat that again? I’m sure I didn’t hear you correctly.”

  “You heard me perfectly, and that’s the problem.”

  “Are you feeling well?”

  That was the response she’d been afraid of. “See, that’s partly what I mean. Now you think I’m insane.”

  Concern flickered over his face. “Not insane. Maybe you are just overtired.”

  She scowled. “I’m not a fractious toddler who needs a nap.”

  “Sometimes you act like one.”

  “I do not. I—” As she saw the grin spreading over his lips, her words halted abruptly. “Oh, you’re teasing me.”

  “I am.” His show of good humor faded away. “Now will you please clarify what you were saying?”

  “There isn’t much to clarify. I’m from the future, and I was—”

  He gave a despairing groan. “—sent here to drive me mad.”

  “No, contrary to what you may believe, I came to your time period to…study history.” She couldn’t tell him the exact nature of her mission.

  “And what history is that?”

  “I can’t tell you. It’s classified information.”

  A frown turned his sculpted lips downward. “Do Lord and Lady Correlton know of this ‘classified information’?”

  “They know some of it.”

  “But not all?”

  She shifted side to side, and her shoulders jerked involuntarily. The truth spilled from her. “Jul—Lady Correlton does.”

  “And she didn’t tell her esteemed husband?”

  “I don’t know. She probably has.”

  “If this knowledge is so secret, why does Lady Correlton know?”

  Maryanne cringed. The conversation was careening into dangerous territory.

  “Because…because she’s from the future also.”

  His face remained impassive except for a slight pleating of his brow. “Of course she is.”

  Disappointment hit her hard and fast. He didn’t believe her. “She’s an American from the same time that I’m from.” Her shoulders drooped. “But it wasn’t my place to tell you.”

  “You seem to be harboring quite some secrets. I take it that Correlton knows about his wife’s origins?”

  Hope sparked in her chest. “Yes. Does this mean you believe—”

  “I’m withholding judgment until I gather more details.”

  Not quite the response she was hoping for, but fair enough. “I see.”

  “You said you were sent here. By who?”

  She hesitated. How best to explain Intellitravel? “I work for a government-controlled agency called Intellitravel. They are the ones who sent me here.”

  “To study something you can’t tell me of but that Lady Correlton is privy to—and probably her husband.”

  That about summed it up. “Yes.”

  A humorless smile crossed his face. “Let me guess. I can’t know, because somehow I’m involved in this history, and that could change the future.”

  From what little she’d said, he guessed all that? “You’re much too astute.”

  “Or I’m much too mad and believe you because I don’t have one iota of sense.” He shook his head and ran a hand roughly through his hair. “I don’t know which. Even since you stormed into my life, I’ve come to doubt my sanity.”

  Well, those were the words every woman wanted to hear. The poor guy thought he was ready for Bedlam. She had to have beaten some world record for driving a man bonkers. “I think you’re very sane.” Pausing, she considered her words. Before she could stop it, more verbal vomit spilled out. “Okay, mostly sane. Your interest in me is unexplainable and defies all logic.”

  His teeth clenched together so tightly until it looked like they’d crumble to dust. “Quite true. So tell me why I’m going to do this?”

  “What are—?” Her voice died as he pulled her roughly against his chest.

  “Going to do?” he finished for her. “This.” He lowered his head and covered her mouth with his. His demanding lips seemed intent on conquering. Frustration, anger, and, desire, along with so many other emotions leaked through his kiss, and left her floored. Wonder filled her. Though he was fuming, he was kissing her. Her—Maryanne. The one with the crazy story, and he still wanted to be near her.

  She smiled against his lips. And for the first time, she truly believed. Though she didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, she was sure this was where she wanted to spend today. If only she could spend an eternity in his arms…. Pushing that thought away, she deepened the kiss.

  The door slammed open, and both she and Avingdale jumped apart. Her gaze flew to the intruder. Her stomach lurched. Lady Sutton stood in the threshold, her wild eyes honing in on Avingdale. She didn’t pay Maryanne any speck of attention as she shut the door much more quietly than she’d opened it.

  The lady seemed frozen in place for a second before she jolted forward and grabbed onto Avingdale’s arm. “Hurry, you must leave. He found out about our plans.”

  Plans? That didn’t sound good. Maryanne’s bubble of happiness popped like a pinpricked balloon.

  “Lady Sutton, please slow down and tell me what happened,” Avingdale asked, his voice calm and commanding.

  “There’s no time. He’s looking for you. Only by luck did I find you first.”

  Avingdale’s brows knitted together. “How did he find out?”

  “A servant or some other person—I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. He’s coming for you.” Her shrill voice was nearly a squeak at the end.

  His lips drew into a straight line. “We’ll see about that. Right now, I’m more concerned about seeing you ladies to safety.”

  “Safety?” Maryanne echoed, her mind refusing to process the exact nature of what was going on.

  Lady Sutton’s gaze landed on her. “You’re not involved, child. Leave while you can.”

  Maryanne was about to retort she’d be as involved as she wanted to be, but the other woman turned her back to her.

  The harpy pulled Avingdale toward the door. “If we can escape before he finds us, we leave earlier than we’d planned.”

  The blow of Lady Sutton’s words socked her in the chest. Breath was impossible. She’d been a fool and should’ve known better. He and Lady Sutton were having some kind of affair.

  Maryanne cleared the scouring pad from her throat, bu
t her voice still had the bad grace to be croaky. “Well, then, I’ll give you two some privacy.” With her head down, she walked past them, but Avingdale snagged her arm. “Mary—Miss Terrance, please, I need to talk with you after I have this resolved.”

  She glanced down at where he grasped her arm. “Wouldn’t you be otherwise…engaged?”

  “I—” The door thudded open again, cutting off his sentence.

  Did no one believe in knocking? But taking in the newcomer’s red face, Maryanne shuddered. No, he looked a little too angry—and demented—to even think about knocking.

  Fear snaked up her spine. This had to be Lord Sutton. Though he was an average height man, his girth made him appear much bigger. He surveyed the room with a savage glance that seemed to assess everything in under a second, and his meaty hands curled into fists. The sound of his heavy breathing filled the room.

  Why hadn’t she left when she could? She was a wimp—had never pretended to be anything else.

  Sutton’s lip curled into a snarl. “Avingdale, my wife isn’t enough for you?” His gaze swung to his wife. “Come to me, you little harlot.”

  Lady Sutton didn’t comply, but did release Avingdale’s arm. That seemed to shake Avingdale out of his stupor. He pulled Maryanne behind him, which she willingly let him do. She might be foolish, but she wasn’t completely daft.

  “Your lady wife graciously agreed to chaperone Miss Terrance because I desired to talk privately with her,” Avingdale said smoothly, no hint of a lie in his voice. But then, he was a good liar, wasn’t he?

  “You expect me or any one, for that matter, to believe that tripe, Avingdale? I know you planned to run off with my wife.”

  Lady Sutton held out her hands pleadingly. “Please, Basil, I told you there is nothing between Avingdale and me.”

  “Yet I find you here?”

  “You made threats against him. I couldn’t let you harm an innocent man.”

  Sutton gave a grating laugh. “Innocent? Hardly.” As he glared at his wife, his eyes flashed with something that Maryanne could only term as insanity. “You defend him, and not your husband. What does that say about you, hmmm?”

  Panic stamped its way across Lady Sutton’s face, and her throat worked furiously as she seemed to be trying to swallow something lodged there. She finally found her voice. “I’ve tried to be a good wife to you….”

  “By opening your legs for every gentleman that came along? I paid your father handsomely for you. You’re mine—even your whoring, lying heart.”

  Lady Sutton winced, and an unwitting drop of sympathy welled up for her. Maryanne hated any kind of verbal abuse.

  The lady shook her head. “That’s not true,” she said weakly, though which allegation she meant that for wasn’t clear.

  Avingdale stepped in by placing himself between the married couple, saying, “Rumors. Nothing good ever comes of taking them too seriously. Why don’t we let the ladies go get some refreshment—”

  Rage rippled across Lord Sutton’s face, and he whipped out a small pistol from his open tailcoat. “No one’s going anywhere.”

  Avingdale stiffened. “Put the pistol down, Sutton, and let’s handle this like gentlemen.”

  Fear coiled its way up Maryanne’s spine like a twisting snake. Had history come to snatch its prize?

  Sutton shook his graying head like a charging bull would. “There’s nothing left to discuss, and I will end this my way.”

  “You wish to challenge me?”

  “Challenge—no. Rid the world of your presence—yes.”

  Avingdale held out his arms. “If that’s so, here I am. But the women are to leave.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so. My lady wife deserves a place beside you in death.” Sutton’s gun wavered toward Maryanne. “And since this young lady has joined our little party, she’s earned herself a spot, too.”

  Maryanne wanted to say she was no part of their “group,” but her mouth refused to form words. Guess her cowardice would have to die with her.

  “You’ll swing for this,” Lady Sutton croaked.

  He shrugged. “Only if they can catch me. Living aboard will be no hardship. I’ll be starting my new life while you’re taking your eternal rest.”

  Eek, it sounded like Sutton had it all planned out. In the original timeline, he’d been caught, but would he go free this time because she’d messed up everything?

  But she didn’t have long to contemplate her line of thought when Avingdale charged toward the other man, his head down. He knocked into Sutton, sending the heavier man stumbling back. Sutton lost his footing and tumbled to the floor. Avingdale lost no time in jumping on him and attempted to wrestle the pistol from him.

  They rolled around on the ground—sometimes Avingdale was the temporary victor, and other times Sutton came out on top. Tension and fright zipped like a race shuttle through Maryanne. She wanted to do something—anything—but she stood paralyzed.

  The report of a gun bounced off the walls, and Lady Sutton screamed. Maryanne’s blood froze and became cement in her veins. Please, let Avingdale be fine.

  But Sutton moved off a motionless Avingdale and smirked at them. Maryanne’s gaze swept Avingdale’s body for any sign of a gunshot wound. She didn’t have to look far. On his chest, a red stain spread across the left side of his cream-colored waistcoat.

  Without thought, she ran toward him, but Sutton pointed the pistol her way, and she faltered to a stop.

  “Trying to help your beau? We can’t have that, though I might be so gracious as to let you say your goodbyes.”

  Lady Sutton stepped forward, shaking her head as if trying to clear it. “Please, Basil, permit us to get him help.”

  “He’ll need no help where he’s going—same as you.” With alarming quickness, he aimed at his wife and pulled the trigger. Though she tried to move out of the way, the ball still hit the upper part of her left arm. Lady Sutton cried out and clutched at her wound, sinking to her knees.

  Lord Sutton moved to stand over her like an executioner would. A chill gripped Maryanne. He was filling that role perfectly, and she remained rooted to the floor like a sitting duck.

  She zeroed in on a heavy paperweight lying on a nearby writing table. In an instance she mentally measured the distance between her and the desk. It couldn’t be more than five feet away—impossibly far when a madman was waving a gun around. A glance showed Sutton’s attention remained on his wife as he spouted more vitriol.

  Maryanne inched toward the desk. Each breath was fraught with dread, but so far, Sutton paid her no heed. She picked up the weight with shaking fingers. Acting quickly seemed the best course of action—hit him before he saw it coming. She palmed the object and dashed toward Sutton. When she was behind him, he turned, but she hefted the weight and smashed it into the side of his head.

  He wavered on his feet for a few moments and then fell like a lead brick to the ground. His head hit the wood floor with a thud. Good, that should’ve knocked any remaining consciousness out of him.

  Avingdale stirred and groaned. She flew to him and dropped down by his side. He appeared unconscious, his face drawn into lines of pain. She fluttered her hands around for a few seconds, not sure what to do. She hated blood and germs. In fact, her stomach roiled with nausea when she thought of touching the mess.

  A deep breath steadied her. Should she try to stop the bleeding? That was what actors did in the movies. A despairing laugh escaped her. Yeah, real life was like a movie’s portrayal of it—not.

  She grabbed at her chemise. Its thin linen material should rip easily. But no matter how she pulled, the fabric wouldn’t give. What now? When she glanced up, a very pale Lady Sutton loomed above her with a pair of scissors. As soon as Maryanne took them, the other woman gripped her injured arm again.

  Maryanne made quick work of hacking away at her chemise. She pressed the ragged square of material against the wound, but it did little to halt the flow of blood. Maybe if she exerted more pressure? Once again, fail
ure met her. Who was she kidding? She wasn’t a doctor. He was going die, bleeding out on the rug while she sat by him like an idiot.

  Her bloody hand went to the bodice of her dress, and the reassuring press of her transmitter warmed her palm. But even if it were time, could she do it?

  She made a split-second decision and hit the communication button. Avingdale may hate her choice, but she’d worry about that later.

  Seconds stretched by until Carson’s voice floated over the connection. “Hey, Maryanne, guess what? I have good news. We can—”

  That was all she needed to hear. “You have to get me out of here. Now.”

  “What? No pleasantries for me? I get that you want to get back, but—”

  “Carson,” she gritted. “Listen, pull me back now.

  He was silent for a bit. “Okay, you sound like you’re in hot water. Stand by, you’ll be retrieved in a few minutes.”

  She blew out a huge sigh. “Good.” Would it be soon enough, though?

  A shaky gasp tore her out of her thoughts, and her gaze landed on Lady Sutton. The other woman swayed and seemed about ready to tip over at any moment.

  The redhead licked her lips. “Wha…what was that?”

  Maryanne’s stomach sunk even further if it were possible. She’d allowed a native to see her use modern technology—not good. Then she shrugged grimly. Like she wasn’t breaking a thousand rules by bringing Avingdale with her. Well, that was if it worked. The retrieval was set up for only one person, so who knew what would happen.

  “It’s probably his only chance of survival,” she said to Lady Sutton.

  “You’re human?”

  “Yes.”

  Lady Sutton’s mind appeared to be spinning to knit the answers together. “You are from the future?”

  A small niggle of surprise gripped Maryanne. Though she may not like Lady Sutton, she had to give it to her that she was more astute than most.

  “Take me with you.”

  “What?”

  Lady Sutton gestured with a nudge of her chin to the prone form of her husband. “Once the scandal hits, I won’t have a life.”

  “I—I don’t—”

  “Think of it as recompense for taking Avingdale’s affections away from me.”