by M. J. Putney
“Though I’ve accepted my fate,” he said softly, “there is one thing I would like to do before I die.”
Remembering his words about their mission, she guessed, “You hope to see the evacuation finish successfully?”
“Nothing so exalted.” He gazed at her searchingly, as if trying to memorize every feature. “What I really want … is to kiss you.”
She caught her breath, pulse accelerating. “That’s easy then.”
When she raised her face, he stroked back her hair and cupped her nape with one strong palm. “You are exquisite,” he murmured. “So soft. So smooth. Like living silk.”
He bent his head and touched his mouth to hers. In the cool night, his lips were warm on hers as he kissed her with gentleness, wonder, and regret.
Tory tensed with shock and delight. She’d never been kissed before, had never known how profoundly intimate a kiss could be. She slid her arms around his waist under the loose jacket, feeling the lean strength of his body, his warm aliveness. It was damnably unfair that they’d discovered each other when all they might have was a handful of days!
“Tory,” he breathed as he buried his face in her hair. “My Lady Victoria. You look as fragile as thistle silk, yet you’re strong, so strong. Like a tempered steel blade.”
She wanted to weep. Instead she kissed him again, and there was nothing gentle about it. Her kiss was flesh and fire, mourning all their lost tomorrows.
Allarde responded with equal yearning. His embrace crushed her hard against him as his hands kneaded her back, molding her ever closer.
She’d thought she knew a little of love, but this was so much more. This was passion, hot and fierce, a hunger for closeness that ached inside her. She could feel his heartbeat as clearly as her own, could not tell where her emotions ended and his began. How could this embrace end when it was the deepest reality she’d ever known?
Yet end it they must.
Far too soon Allarde broke the kiss, though he didn’t release her. “We’d better go in before I forget any claims I have to honor,” he said raggedly.
“I wish you would,” she said in frustration. This might be the last private time they would ever have together. She couldn’t bear it.
“Don’t tempt me!” he said ruefully. “I might not have much of a future, but you do, and I will not ruin you.”
She wanted to be ruined, but she retained enough sense to realize she might feel differently when her blood cooled. “I suppose you’re right.” She made no attempt to move out of his embrace, where they fit together so perfectly.
“I’ve been selfish,” he said softly as he stroked her hair. “I should not have spoken, but I found that I wasn’t strong enough to let this chance go by. I don’t want you to care too much, Tory. But … I’d like you to care a little.”
She wanted to weep into the shoulder of Tom Rainford’s tweed jacket, but she forced the tears to stay unshed. He thought she was strong, so she must live up to that.
Since he wanted so much to avoid causing pain, it would be selfish of her to show just how much she was hurting. Taking a deep breath, she stepped back, letting her hands skim slowly down his arms. “I do care, but I promise that you have not ruined my life. Quite the contrary. You have made it far richer. I will not forget you.”
“I’m glad.” He caught her hand and raised it to his lips, kissing the back of her fingers. “And now we really must go in.”
She nodded agreement, and hand in hand they walked back to the house, almost tripping over Horace, who had been a quiet canine witness to their embrace. She was glad that none of the Irregulars could talk to animals. At least, none that she knew of. She wouldn’t trust Horace not to gossip.
Quietly they went inside, still handfast. The kitchen was dark, but light and pianoforte music flowed from the living room. The sound was different from the pianofortes of Tory’s time, richer and more resonant.
The warmth and beauty of the cascading notes caused Tory’s throat to tighten. Just what she needed, she thought unevenly. More emotion.
“Elspeth must be playing,” Allarde said softly. “She’s a wonderful musician. That’s one of her favorite Mozart concertos.”
Tory felt a stab of envy for Elspeth because she’d known Allarde since they were in the nursery. When he was gone, Elspeth would have many memories of her cousin.
But Tory was the one he wanted to touch.
The concerto ended, the last notes fading gently away. “You’re terrific, Lady Elspeth!” Nick exclaimed. “You could make a living as a concert pianist.”
Elspeth laughed. “Not in my time, but it’s a pleasant thought.”
Tory was about to move into the sitting room when Mrs. Rainford spoke. “Here are copies of a song you might like. It’s called ‘Jerusalem’ and the words are from a poem by William Blake, who lived in your time. Has anyone ever read him?”
After negative murmurs, the teacher continued, “That’s not surprising. He was almost unknown until many years after his death. The poem was set to music during the Great War, and it’s something of an English anthem. The song has been running through my head for days now. It seems very appropriate.”
After a rustling of sheet music, Elspeth said, “The words are lovely. Do you want me to play it?”
“No, I will so you can concentrate on the words.” There were sounds of the two of them trading places. “I’ll play a verse of the music. Then we can sing it.”
The music was haunting, and the words almost caused Tory to come undone when her friends began singing the hymn. She and Allarde stood with fingers laced together as they listened. The last lines brought tears to her eyes.
Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand,
Till we have built Jerusalem,
In England’s green and pleasant land.
As the poignant notes faded away, she wiped her eyes with her free hand. “I can see why Mrs. Rainford thought it appropriate.”
“We are the sword carried in England’s hand, Tory. One of the swords, anyhow.” Allarde raised their joined hands and kissed her wrist on the pulse point, sending lightning flickers of sensation dancing through her.
Releasing her hand with obvious reluctance, he asked, “Would you like to go right upstairs so you can rest before your watch?”
Rest, and hide her raw emotions. She nodded. “Say good night for me.” She slipped through the other door to the stairs in the hall.
As she started up, she glanced into the kitchen and saw Allarde’s calm, grave profile as he walked into the sitting room. She might not have him for long, but they’d shared that kiss. Her first, and one she would never forget.
That would have to be enough.
CHAPTER 29
Tory was still awake when Elspeth quietly entered their room. “I’m not asleep, so you can turn on the light if you like.”
Elspeth turned on the bedside lamp, which was less bright than the overhead. Tory still marveled over how easy it was to produce light. “How did the scrying go?”
“We were amusing ourselves more than scrying seriously, so I don’t know if the results are any good. It does seem as if the evacuation will continue a few days longer, which means a lot more men will be rescued.” Elspeth perched on the stool by the dressing table and began brushing out her long hair. “There’s still no clarity about Mr. Rainford. Or rather, Captain Rainford as he is now.”
Tory sighed. “Poor Mrs. Rainford. And Polly and Nick as well. I don’t know how they keep going.”
“I think they find busyness helps. In particular since what they’re doing aids all the stranded troops.” Elspeth stopped brushing her hair, frowning as she fiddled with the brush. “I think that maybe Captain Rainford is marching his unit from Belgium to Dunkirk and praying they’ll be in time to catch a ship home.”
“A lot of things could stop his men on the way,” Tory said quietly.
“I know. So I kept my foretelling to myself.” Elspeth resumed brushing. “I wonder what the headmasters wi
ll do to us when we return? It was possible to conceal your absence, but five students gone for days will be too many for them not to notice.”
Tory covered a yawn. “They can’t send us away to be cured since that’s why we’re at Lackland.”
Elspeth laughed. “They may lock us up every night so we can’t sneak down to the Labyrinth. That would be annoying.”
Tory contemplated five years of being locked up every night without enthusiasm. “Grim, but endurable, I suppose.”
“And worth every minute of being locked up. We were all able to scry the image of men pouring off ships at Dover. You’ve never seen such a sight!”
“I shall try scrying that tomorrow,” Tory said. “I’d love to see the results of so many people working together to save the army.”
“The numbers evacuated so far are only a drop in the bucket. Around eight thousand if Mrs. R. scryed the naval headquarters accurately. Hundreds of thousands are still marooned in France. But the evacuation is just getting started. With practice and a few more days, the numbers should be substantial.”
“If the weather cooperates.”
Elspeth frowned. “I’m worried about Jack. Cynthia and Polly are both talented weather workers, but Jack is by far the best and strongest, and he’s pushing himself constantly. He’s always monitoring and tweaking the weather, even when he’s not officially on watch. If he doesn’t get more rest, he could push himself to collapse.”
Tory didn’t like to think how much of a burden that would lay on Cynthia and Polly, who had nothing like Jack’s experience. “The rest of us will have to keep the weather mages well supplied with power so they won’t get overstrained.”
Elspeth grinned. “Cynthia came the grand lady tonight and told Jack that he most certainly would get some sleep tonight, or else. He agreed very meekly to go to bed after the early night watch, so I think he’s aware of the danger of pushing too hard.”
“Cynthia?” Tory chuckled. “I wish I’d seen that. Is it my imagination, or has she been behaving surprisingly well?”
“It’s not your imagination.” Elspeth began braiding her hair for the night. “We’ve all been changed by coming here, and for the better. I can feel my magic growing stronger and more versatile. What about you?”
“I hadn’t really thought about it.” Tory considered. “My talent is helping others to connect. I’m not a great power in my own right.”
“No?” Elspeth tied a ribbon around the bottom of the braid and tossed her hair over her shoulder. “You are connecting with people more and more easily, and I suspect that your range is increasing.”
Tory frowned. “What would that mean?”
“That means you can send or draw power for some distance. If I needed more power for healing, you could send it to me. Or if you needed healing energy, you could draw some from me.”
“I suppose that could be useful,” Tory agreed. “I think it would have to be someone I know, like another member of the weather brigade.”
“I wonder how we could test this?” Elspeth said thoughtfully. “Perhaps Nick could drive you to Dover and you could try to connect with me from there.”
Tory groaned. “If I get to Dover, I’ll try to reach you, but that’s enough theory for one night. I need sleep because I’m taking the late-night-to-early-morning watch.”
“Sorry to keep you talking.” Elspeth slid into the bed and turned off the light. “Sleep well, Tory. Tomorrow should be a big day for the evacuation.”
Tory knew that was true. But when she slept, her dreams were not of Dunkirk.
* * *
Tory’s after-midnight watch was with Cynthia. The main problem was staying awake, but they managed, taking turns making tea and pacing around the sitting room, always maintaining the flow of magic. Cynthia monitored the weather over the channel and tweaked it now and then while Tory supplied a steady supply of power.
She yawned as she made them both a second cup of tea. “Have you seen the electric torch Nick has? It uses things called batteries that hold electricity that powers the light.” She stirred honey into the tea since sugar was rationed. As she handed Cynthia the cup, she said, “I believe I have become a magical battery.”
“And a good little battery you are,” Cynthia said with tart amusement as she accepted the cup.
“I’m even picking up some weather magic,” Tory said. “I’ll never be as good as you or Jack or Polly, but it’s a very useful skill.”
“I like having my weather power valued.” Cynthia rolled her eyes. “My evil talent was revealed when I kissed a handsome stable boy and liked it so much a storm blew up and flattened my father’s best wheat fields. Ruined my favorite silk gown, too.”
“Oh, my.” Tory sat opposite the other girl, wondering if they might actually become friends. No, this was only a late-night lowering of barriers. “You control your magic really well now.”
“My control is good, but I wish I had Jack’s range. He can read weather halfway to the New World.” Cynthia sipped at her tea. “Did you know that our former colonies in North America have prospered? The rebels went on to build a country that stretches from one side of the continent to the other.”
“I didn’t know that.” Tory sipped her tea thoughtfully. “If they enter the war, I hope it’s on our side.”
“Mrs. R. says they want to stay neutral, but if that changed, they’d be with us, not the Nazis.” Cynthia yawned again. “Isn’t this watch over yet?”
“Almost.” Polly was the speaker as she trailed into the room, blinking sleepily. “When Elspeth gets here.”
“Cynthia, if you want to go to bed now, I’ll work with Polly until Elspeth gets here,” Tory offered.
“I think I will. This kind of concentrated work is really draining.” Cynthia rose to her feet. “I’m eating like two hungry soldiers and have still lost a pound or two.”
“Go on then. It’s easier to be a battery. Polly, would you like some tea?”
Polly yawned hugely. “Please. Double honey. This late watch is the worst.”
By the time Tory finished making the tea, Elspeth had arrived and Tory could go off to bed. This time she would certainly sleep.
The advantage of being a battery was that she stood fewer watches than the weather mages. She crawled back into the bed, thinking that in a week or so, she would be free to sleep the clock around. Dear God, but she hoped that Allarde would still be alive and well and able to do the same!
CHAPTER 30
“Damnation!” a voice bellowed through the house.
Tory jerked awake when she heard the oath. Jack? She scrambled into the robe she’d borrowed from Mrs. Rainford and darted downstairs, risking tripping over the hem and breaking her neck. It was very early, well before dawn.
The others were racing down, too. “Jack, what’s the matter?” Allarde called, several steps ahead of Tory and taking the stairs three at a time.
Tory entered the sitting room as Jack swung around, blazing with rage. Polly was white and Elspeth was sending out calming energy without much success.
“There’s a major storm moving in from the Atlantic. It will slam into here within hours today if we can’t shift it.” He glared at Polly. “The weather mage on watch was sleeping on duty.”
“I’m sorry,” Polly whispered, tears on her cheeks. “I wasn’t really sleeping, but … but I wasn’t paying as much attention as I should.”
“How many men will die because you weren’t doing your job?” Jack snarled, his fists clenched. Tory realized that under his fury was cold fear of the oncoming storm.
“Stop!” Nick intervened, stepping between Polly and Jack. “Don’t you dare touch my sister!”
For a moment Tory thought the two Rainfords would come to blows. Then Cynthia grabbed Jack’s arm, ruthlessly digging in her nails. “You know Polly hasn’t your strength or range, Jack! Don’t blame her for missing the early signs. Just tell us what to do so we can fix this.”
“But Jack is right,” Polly said
as she wiped at her tears. “I wasn’t trying hard enough. If I had, I might have felt the storm sooner.”
Jack made a visible effort to master himself. “I’m sorry, Polly, I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that. But we need to get to work on that storm system now! All of us. Get yourselves together and make the circle. Every minute counts.”
“Do you want me, too?” Mrs. Rainford asked.
“I said all of us, and I meant it.” Jack ran stiff fingers through his blond hair. “Please—if everyone can forgive me in advance. I’m going to be swearing and difficult and impossible until we head this storm off. If we do.”
“Forgiven,” Allarde said as he began moving chairs into a circle. “If you need help swearing, just ask.”
That surprised an uneven smile from Jack as he dropped onto the sofa. “That part I can manage on my own. Now everyone move!”
Even with only one water closet, the whole group was assembled within five minutes. They took the same positions as the first time they’d done a weather circle, except that Polly traded places with Cynthia and sat next to Tory.
When the circle was complete, Tory said, “We’re all upset, but energy will flow best when we’re relaxed. Take a deep breath.” She made her voice light. “I have a new image—not a driver and seven horses but an electric torch with seven batteries. Jack is the torch, and we’re the batteries who will supply him power.”
“And I lit up like a torch,” he said ruefully. “Tory is right. Relax. Let your energy flow freely. We have maybe a one-in-four chance of deflecting this storm.”
“Not bad odds,” Allarde observed. “We can do this.”
Tory felt the separate energy lines smooth out as people consciously relaxed. Voice low and controlled, Jack said, “And so we begin.…”
It took only a few minutes for Tory to decide that the torch and battery comparison didn’t work. They were a team of horses and Jack was driving them hard, like Apollo hurling the chariot of the sun through the heavens.
