Saving Lord Avingdale

by Lisa Kumar

  Well, it looked like the matter had been taken out of her hands. She no longer had to worry about breaking the news to him. The expression on his face devastated her more than she thought possible. Any hope he wouldn’t take the events of the last few days hard disappeared like a cold drink on a hot day.

  Though a small portion of her felt relief about him already knowing, the larger part of her shook with guilt and sadness over his upset. She wet her dry lips. “So you remember everything, huh?”

  Avingdale breathed in deeply a few times. After color seeped back into his face, he spoke. “With more clarity than I’d like.” He paused as if in thought. “It appears you were completely serious about your tale and of being from the future.”

  His levelheaded tone sent a wave of misery over her. “Unfortunately, I was.”

  “And I’m here in that future now?” he said, gesturing around weakly.

  “You’re at Intellitravel’s medical facilities. We’re in New York State.”

  “The infamous Intellitravel you’ve mentioned before? Are they happy that you brought along a visitor? Or should I say visitors? I have a suspicion that Lady Sutton is here as well.”

  He was too astute. “Intellitravel’s not really happy with me at the moment. I’m on unpaid leave until further investigation.” Though admitting her “punishment” stung, it didn’t hurt quite as bad as she would’ve imagined. Hopefully, that would be the extent of her punishment, and she wouldn’t lose her job. She had some money saved, but she’d never find a position she liked as much.

  “I see.” And he did appear to understand because a flash of sympathy lightened his face for a moment. “And Lady Sutton?”

  “She’s here because she insisted on coming along, and I found I couldn’t say no.”

  “She does have that effect on people.”

  He’d know all about that, wouldn’t he? “She sure does,” she said, her voice sour.

  His lips twitched as if he were amused. “As I’ve said, there is nothing between us. I don’t deny we carried on a flirtation, but it went no farther. After meeting you, I wasn’t in the mood for a dalliance with her. However, I couldn’t turn my back on her and ignore her pleas for help. Please understand that.”

  She sighed. “I do.” Though he’d been a ladies’ man, he cared enough for the women in his life to make sure they were safe. And she couldn’t find fault with that.

  Since he was being honest with her, she had to do the same. Time to lay out the full truth. Let the chips fall where they may. “There’s nothing between you and Lady Sutton because you stumbled upon me, and I altered the relationship you were supposed to have with her.”

  After he appeared to digest that, he drew in a sharp breath. His brows snapped together. “So you not only changed my future by bringing me here, but you were altering my course from the moment I met you?”

  “Y—yes, though not on purpose.” Her heart pounding in her ears, she explained how her invisibility transmitter had malfunctioned and that everything had went downhill from there.

  After she finished, he sat in silence. The minutes on the bedside table ticked by, and her fear of his reaction ratcheted up.

  He finally glanced up. “I was to die, even from the beginning?” Shock colored his voice, and his pale face tugged at her guilt-ridden heart.

  She cringed. “Yes.”

  “It’s frightening to discover how one person can exert so much control over my life,” he said, shaking his head repeatedly. “Does Intellitravel or their employees consider the effects their actions may have on those they study?”

  “That is why we’re supposed to remain invisible if at all possible. But mistakes happen, and even when we try to blend in, it doesn’t always go as planned.”

  “That’s no answer.”

  She quickly grabbed for something more suitable to tell him. “Intellitravel does have measures set in place for instances like ours. But money will always influence the company more than anything else.”

  “I see little has changed over the years.” Before she could think up anything to say, he asked, “What are the repercussions of me being here?”

  Running a hand through her messy pinned-up hair, she sighed. “I don’t know, and I don’t think Intellitravel’s figured it out, either. They have complex algorithms they use, but it can take weeks for all the probabilities to run their course.”

  “So they explore all the possibilities they can fathom?”

  She smiled bitterly. “And ones they can’t, but that’s what computer programs are for.” Confusion shone on his face, and she waved a hand. “Modern stuff. You’ll understand soon enough.”

  He shook his head, his tousled black hair against the white of the pillows lending him a boyish look. “Somehow I believe you.”

  She asked the question she’d been fearing. “Are you angry?”

  “Angry?” He remained quiet for nearly a minute, and her nerves stretched to breaking. Then he spoke, “Not quite angry. More like baffled and wondering why you saved me and what will happen next.”

  Disappointment hit her hard. “You question my choice of bringing you here.” It didn’t matter that she questioned it every day, but for him to do so right off the bat disheartened her.

  His well-sculpted lips firmed. “I appreciate that you probably saved my life, but why did you choose to do so? I can’t believe that you save everyone thusly when you’re on your…missions.”

  She stared down at her clasped hands as if they could offer her some kind of answer. “I became attached,” she said softly. He didn’t answer. Maybe he hadn’t heard her. But a glance at him revealed he had. His stare pried open her soul, and every crevice of her body warmed.

  “Attached?”

  There was so much meaning in that little word she didn’t know how to respond without baring herself further. “You…you weaseled your way into my life and charmed me.”

  “You make that sound like a crime.”

  “To me, it might as well be one. I don’t let people in, especially men.”

  “Why is that?”

  She shrugged trembling shoulders. “No particular reason.” Instead, there were a ton of valid concerns. “It’s just safer that way.”

  His penetrating gaze never wavered. “You, my dear, are a coward.”

  She jerked upright. “What?”

  “You didn’t misunderstand me. You’ve been afraid to feel, to open yourself up.”

  Ire sparked to life. “You’re one to talk. Your reputation with women isn’t exactly stellar.”

  “True. Until I met you, I was just as cowardly. And for the first few days, I fought to stay that way—fought you—and the pull you have on me.”

  Her heart sputtered to a stop and then jolted awake. Surely she hadn’t heard him right? Maybe this was a dream or she was delusional? Yeah, that had to be it. This didn’t happen to her—in any world. But no matter how she blinked, he remained before her, wearing a look of complete honesty on his face.

  His hand inched toward her clasped ones. The gentle rasp of fingertips over her knuckles caused her chest to feel tight and constricted. Oh, well, she didn’t need to breath, not when she was looking at him. He was her air.

  She let him untwine her fingers so he could grasp her hand. His hand shook slightly, though whether it was from nervousness, desire, or weakness, she couldn’t say. He brought her hand up to his lips and laid a tender kiss against the back of her wrist. All sensation accumulated in that small area until she was only that scrap of skin.

  All too soon, he groaned and dropped their hands back to his side. “This feebleness will be the end of me.”

  She dropped back to Earth with a goofy grin on her lips and made no move to disengage their hands. “Now that you’re awake, you should start to get some strength back. It may take a few weeks to make a full recovery, but you’ve been unconsciousness for a week and a half.”

  Astonishment widened his eyes, and his mouth dropped open. “That long?”
/>   “The bullet lodged in your heart. It was a delicate surgery to remove it. Not to mention—”

  “I should have died.” With disbelief plastered to his face, he shook his head over and over.

  At the reminder of that horrible time, she swallowed the football in her throat and blinked back tears. “You were lucky you didn’t. Even with our modern advances, it was very sketchy for a while. And then a fever set in because of infection. That’s what weakened you so much.”

  “When can I get out of this bed?”

  Said like a true man. “I’d have to ask your doctor but probably when you can get out of bed without collapsing.”

  An expression of intense focus painted itself over his face. “I’d like to try now.” Apparently, he noticed the oh-no-way look in her eyes because he backpedaled and said, “With your help, of course.”

  “Tomorrow—and after I talk with your doctor.” He opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off. “You don’t seem to realize how many times you came close to death’s door. Take it easy for a day, and then we’ll see, okay?”

  He gave a reluctant nod but dropped the subject. Unfortunately, he exchanged it for an even more upsetting one. “What do you think is the most likely outcome of bringing me to the future?”

  All their problems fell atop of her again, and a chill ripped its claws into her. “That’s not an easy question to answer.” Please leave it at that.

  “Try your best.”

  Why did he have to ruin their illusion of happiness so soon by making her state the cold, hard truths? “I don’t know if you can ever go back to your old life.”

  He stiffened but remained mercifully silent, so she forged on. “But there’s a worse possibility. Intellitravel may rule to send you back to your era at the moment you get shot. If so, you’ll die.”

  The grip around her hand loosened. He withdrew within himself, rubbing his fingers over an area near his wound. When he spoke, his subdued voice cracked. “I think I like that second option even less than the first.”

  She closed her eyes for a second, but she couldn’t block out the pain. “Me, too.” Feeling anything but brave, she forced herself to close the chasm that had opened between them—she reached for his hand and stopped its restless quest. “Until we know more, let’s try not to worry about the worst possibilities.”

  “So say you. It’s not your death that you have to be concerned about.”

  So he was going to play that card? When things became tough, he’d cast blame where it was due? Or at least where he thought it was due? She released his hand. “Sometimes I’d rather it be. Do you think I don’t understand what I’ve done by bringing you here?”

  As if in remorse, he closed his eyes. “I apologize. I have no reason to snap at you.”

  She scrubbed a hand over her face. It had been a long day—and a long week and a half. “You’re forgiven.”

  A small smile tilted his lips. “Will you forgive everything so easily?”

  Shrugging, she returned his grin. He was one of the few people she’d ever bantered with, and she loved it. “Probably not. Best not to test it, Lord Avingdale.”

  “I fear I won’t be able to stop myself. And please, I insist on you calling me Jonathan.”

  “Okay.” After all they’d been through, they were past the formal title stage—or should be. “As long as you use my first name, too.”

  “Consider it done.” Some of his humor faded. “What do we do now?”

  “Other than wait? ”

  He nodded. “Lying in bed without any entertainment will grow tedious quickly. Care to show me some of the wonders of this world?”

  Her gaze darted to the laptop she had stashed on top of the dresser and then to the TV screen anchored in one corner of the room. “I think I have just the objects to broaden your horizons.”

  Chapter 8

  Maryanne’s step quickened as she neared the door to Jonathan’s room. Her lonely apartment had seemed far too oppressive when she woke up that morning. Funny how it used to be her sanctuary when she wasn’t working. Now it was just a place for to rest her head and grab a quick bite to eat. That was, when she wasn’t sharing a meal with Jonathan. He insisted she eat with him at least once a day, and she readily complied.

  Her cheeks grew warm at the thought of all the stimulating conversations that had gone along with the food. He had a keen mind that grasped the technological advances of her world much more quickly than most people from his era would have.

  Ever since he’d gained consciousness four days ago, the time they spent together sped by. She never wanted it to end, but every so often, reality would creep in. If her career’s fate was up in the air, his life was doubly so. Intellitravel hadn’t handed down a verdict on either front. That realization too often soured the happiness inundating Maryanne whenever she was with Jonathan—and when she wasn’t. She couldn’t imagine her life without him, as corny as that sounded.

  It was unlikely he’d be able to return to the year 1813 and remain alive for any length of time. If Intellitravel allowed him to live, he’d probably stay in present-day times. But even if his life was spared, who said he wanted to spend his future with her? Sure, he cared for her in some way, but was it enough for him to commit?

  What about her, though? Was she ready for something serious like marriage? Yes. It would take her out of her comfort zone, but everything involving Jonathan usually did. But all this was conjecture—any possible future for them depended on his survival. Only then would it matter what his feelings for her were.

  Pushing those dismal thoughts from her mind, she bounded into his room only to stop short. Carson was sitting on the lone chair—her chair—in the room. He’d even moved it closer to the sofa that Jonathan now reclined on. Not that she didn’t do the same thing, but it was the principal of the matter.

  “There you are, Maryanne. Avingdale said you would be arriving soon. You two have near-perfect synchronization. Are you two sure you aren’t married?”

  “Carson,” she moaned. “Must you try to embarrass me?”

  “Of course, that’s part of my job description.”

  “Sometimes I think your only job description is to be a pain in the rear.”

  The blond goof shook his head, his shoulder-length shaggy hair moving with an energy that could only come from Carson. “There you are wrong, my friend. It’s not the only description, but it is the first and most important one.”

  A groaning sound rumbled in her chest. Some things—namely Carson—never changed. He was usually harmless, but he now trespassed on that boundary line. What did Jonathan think of her missions director?

  A glance showed that Jonathan’s mouth twitched at the corners as if he fought off laughter. Any hope that he’d level one of his famous—or more like infamous—glares to cow Carson died a brutal death. Traitor. Of course, he’d stick with his brethren, someone of the male sex.

  She turned back to Carson and huffed out, “You’re living up to it perfectly, then.”

  Carson grinned impishly. “I am.” Then with a change of mood that swung faster than any hormonal woman’s, he said, “On a more serious note, I came here to tell you about one of Intellitravel’s decisions.”

  Every muscle in her body tensed. “Good or bad?”

  “Both.”

  She blew out a breath. “Tell us the bad first. I have a feeling we’ll need a boost of positive news after hearing the bad.”

  “The bigwigs want to send him back to the moment he was shot.”

  Her heart clenched as if an iron fist squeezed it. “They can’t do that.”

  Sadness flashed over Carson’s face. “They can do anything they want, and you know it, Maryanne.”

  He was right, and the bottomless pit that her stomach was speeding through agreed. She looked to Jonathan, and he wore the same stricken look she was sure she had. On trembling legs, she walked over to him and dropped down beside him. They sought each other’s hands at the same time. His warm skin grounde
d her against the hurricane of emotion threatening to sweep her away. She could only hope hers did the same thing for him.

  Carson’s serious mask slowly cracked, and a smile stole over his face. “But never fear, I bought you two more time.”

  “To what end?” Jonathan asked, voicing the question Maryanne hadn’t been able to articulate. Her heart had thudded alive, leaving her feeling dizzy and lightheaded.

  “So we can find a solution that doesn’t result in your death—and one that might keep you two in the same century.” Carson paused and eyed Jonathan as if he were assessing his value. “Maryanne is fond of you, more than fond, in fact, and I’d hate to see her lose anything that finally got her out of her shell.”

  Indignity welled in her chest. “Hey, I’m right here.”

  Carson turned that all-too-astute gaze on her. “You sure are, and the differences amaze me. You’ve never been the most touchy-feely person around. Far from it. Look at you now, though. You’re holding hands with Avingdale willingly.”

  She cleared the lump in her throat. “Yeah, so?” Were the changes Jonathan had wrought in her so visible?

  “We both know you have problems with touch and…other issues. From what I’ve gathered, you’ve ignored that fact most of your life, but our psych evaluations don’t lie.”

  The blood in her veins boiled. She darted to her feet, her hand slipping from Jonathan’s. Carson had blabbed her greatest secret in a matter of seconds. And not to just anyone, but the man she lov—

  What? She cared for him, but love? Though she could argue it all day with herself, her actions all pointed to love. So, yes, apparently she did love him. Even though that revelation shook her down to her toes, it also felt right.

  She hazarded a glance at Jonathan. Did he think she was some crazy now? But the expression on his face showed a hint of concern, but no judgment. Relief flooded her that he wasn’t that fickle. But he wouldn’t be. Even though he couldn’t have known that her issues stemmed from a very mild case on the autistic spectrum and some related sensory problems, he’d remarked on her “strangeness” more than once.