Timeless (A Time Travel Romance)

by Jasmine Cresswell

  “My dear, you are overset. You should not be out in this cold and rain—”

  “Take me to the front gates,” she pleaded. “Otherwise I’ll never get back to my own time. If I don’t leave soon, I’ll start to become Arabella—I can feel it happening already. I’ll be trapped forever inside Arabella’s body.”

  “You are not trapped, my dear. You are my wife—”

  Laughter bubbled up in her throat, scratching and sticking as it tried to emerge. “I’m caught in a time warp,” she said, speaking out loud so that she could comprehend the full absurdity of what she was thinking. “My God, I’ve been transported into the body of some dim-witted, two-hundred-year-old aristocrat who belongs in a Gainsborough painting and I’m beginning to like it here.”

  Even in the moonlight, she could see William’s face pale. “My dear, you are not yet well, you shouldn’t trouble yourself with these irksome thoughts. We need to take you home and return you safely to your bed—”

  “Because I’m mad,” she said, and her lungs were squeezed so tight that her laughter squeaked out in a high-pitched cackle. ‘“The bullet gave me an instant lobotomy, and now I belong inside a locked room with padded walls.”

  “Enough!” William rapped her sharply on the cheek and her laughter changed to sobs. She pressed her hand over her mouth, trying in vain to control the rising hysteria. Sobs changed back to laughter, hiccupping out through her fingers until William cupped her face in his hands, forcing her to look at him.

  “Arabella, enough! For the sake of your children, if for no other reason, you must control yourself.”

  “Sure, for the sake of the kids. My kids. All four of them that I never knew I had.” Robyn drew in a great shuddering breath. She looked at William’s handsome face and his dark blue eyes, tinged now with compassion as well as worry. She shook her head, which felt as if it were spinning in ever-narrowing circles.

  “Hey, you know what, Willie baby? I’ve finally realized that I’m in major trouble. I can decide I’m mad, or I can decide I’m living two hundred and fifty years in the past. Which option would you choose? Insanity or time travel?”

  William brushed his thumbs across her cheeks, wiping away her tears. “I choose to take you home where you can rest and regain your strength. You are strong, Arabella, and you will recover.”

  The hysteria died as suddenly as it had begun. “Don’t be kind,” she said. “I can’t bear it when you’re kind.”

  “You know I am never kind,” William said. “Merely practical. That is my nature.” He bent down and picked her up, holding her without apparent effort in his arms. “Come, my lady. Rest your head against my shoulder. You will feel much better when you are tucked up safely in your bed.”

  William started to walk out of the clearing, and the captain broke his lengthy silence. He spoke pityingly, his voice thick with disgust. “My lord, you have my deepest sympathy. The Lady Arabella is a sad case. A sad case indeed. What a tragic end for a beautiful woman.”

  Chapter 10

  Exercising phenomenal willpower, Zach decided not to ask any questions until Dr. Forsyth had finished checking Robyn over. It seemed that he waited a lifetime, and when the doctor finally straightened from his examination, Zach couldn’t tell from his expression whether the news was good or bad.

  “Is she going to be all right?” The words burst out, harsh with the accumulated tension of the past twenty-four hours.

  “It’s a mite too early to give you a definitive answer.” The doctor scrutinized a bleeping monitor and scribbled a note on one of the many charts hanging around Robyn’s bed. “All in all, though, I’m optimistic that there will be a full and total return to normal health. As I explained to you last night, the operation to remove the bullet went well, and there have been no post-op complications. Have you been shown the X rays?”

  “Yes. Dr. Bennings went over them this morning. He explained that the bullet hadn’t actually entered Robyn’s brain, just... ripped along the surface of her skull.”

  “I’m sure you understand that’s very good news.” Dr. Forsyth rubbed his forehead a touch wearily. “Look, Miss Delaney’s recovery has been normal in every way, and the neurological tests are positive. The swelling is minimal; she’s breathing on her own, and so far there’s no sign of any infection.”

  “I can hear a but in your voice.”

  The doctor hesitated, then shook his head. “No, you can’t. Now all we have to do is wait for her to wake up.”

  Zach looked down at the inert, bandage-swathed figure on the bed. Robyn appeared tiny, fragile, vulnerable, oddly unfamiliar. Every cliché he’d ever read or heard about the diminishment of the seriously ill seemed to fit. He stroked her arm, needing the reassurance of feeling the warm pulse of life among the needles, drips, and electronic wires feeding into her skin.

  “Why is she taking so long to regain consciousness?” he asked. “If everything’s going so well, why doesn’t she wake up?”

  “There could be a lot of reasons, Mr. Bowleigh, not all of them bad. From the readings on the brain scan, I’d say she’s likely to regain consciousness anytime now.”

  “Today?” Zach asked.

  The doctor finally permitted himself a small smile. “Within the next couple of hours. That’s what we’re hoping for, anyway.”

  “And if she doesn’t wake up soon?” Zach gave voice to the nightmare that had been haunting him ever since he arrived at the hospital that morning.

  “Let’s cross that bridge if we come to it, shall we? I can promise you, Mr. Bowleigh, that nobody anticipates your friend spending the rest of her life in a coma.”

  Dr. Forsyth no doubt intended to sound encouraging, but Zach felt his stomach lurch. “She looks a million miles away,” he murmured. “In another world.”

  The doctor chuckled, sounding genuinely amused. “She’s just resting, and in a state that’s pretty close to normal sleep. The body does a wonderful job of closing down any systems that it doesn’t need while it sets about healing itself. Miss Delaney is a healthy young woman, and she’s likely to wake up and start talking to you sometime within the next few hours, possibly the next few minutes. Chin up, Mr. Bowleigh. She’s a fighter, and she’ll pull through.”

  A sound from the bed had the doctor swinging back just as he was about to leave the room. Zach held his breath as Robyn moved her head once, then lay completely still beneath the white hospital blanket. For a moment Zach wondered if he’d imagined hearing her try to speak.

  The rumbling sound came again, an unmistakable groan. A ten-second pause and then Robyn opened her eyes. She blinked several times, and stared around, her gaze flicking dazedly from the flashing screens, to the doctor, to Zach, and back to the monitors.

  “Where... am... I?”

  Zach’s throat squeezed tight with emotion, and he swallowed over a hard lump of pure joy. “You’re in the hospital, honey, but everything’s going to be all right.” He spoke softly, afraid of scaring her. “How are you feeling, honey? Robyn, it’s so good to see you awake.”

  Robyn blinked. “I am... awake?”

  Zach laughed, drunk with relief. “You sure are, sweetheart. My God, you gave us all a terrible scare. We aren’t used to seeing you lie so still and quiet, I guess!”

  Robyn’s green eyes skittered over Zach, not really focusing on him. She spoke to Dr. Forsyth. “My... head... pains... me.”

  The doctor quietly repositioned himself so that it would be easier for Robyn to see him without twisting her neck. “I’m afraid you’re likely to suffer from a headache for a bit longer, my dear. You were shot yesterday, do you remember?”

  “Shot?” Her eyes blurred. “Accident,” she muttered. “Carriage...”

  She closed her eyes, as if the act of remembering hurt. She muttered several more phrases, but her words were so thick and stumbling that Zach couldn’t make out what she was trying to say. Her accent sounded oddly distorted and the only two words he heard clearly sounded like horse and bolted, which
made no sense at all. Worried, he glanced toward the doctor.

  Dr. Forsyth appeared unconcerned by Robyn’s incoherence. He spoke directly to his patient. “Well, my dear, we had to remove a bullet from your head I’m afraid, but the operation went very well, and we hope you’ll soon be feeling a lot better.” He patted her gently on the shoulder. “You’ve been an excellent patient so far, young lady. We’re all very pleased with you.”

  Robyn stared at the doctor. Her gaze dropped to his hand and her brows furrowed. “Thirsty,” she said brusquely. “Give... me... water.”

  “Yes, of course. We can start you on some clear liquids.” Dr. Forsyth nodded to a waiting nurse who hurried forward, carrying a covered cup and flexible straw. The nurse fixed the straw between Robyn’s swollen lips and waited for her to suck. Robyn made awkward work of the simple task, coughing and spluttering as if she couldn’t quite remember how to make a straw function.

  Never mind, Zach thought. She’ll soon be good as new. I can’t expect her to be a hundred percent okay the first second she opens her eyes.

  “That’s enough,” Dr. Forsyth said as Robyn nearly choked on an ill-timed swallow. “Thanks, nurse. She can have some more water or apple juice in an hour if she asks for it. In the meantime, the drip is keeping her hydrated.” He freed her feet from the bedcovers and smiled at her encouragingly. “Could you wriggle your toes for me, Robyn? And if you can lift your foot a couple of inches off the bed, that would be marvelous.”

  Robyn’s head was swathed in bandages, her face was drained of all color, and her lips were shockingly bruised. Maybe that was why it was so difficult to read her feelings, Zach thought. Right now, she looked more angry than anything else, but that must be a distortion caused by the bandages.

  “Whoare... you?” she asked the doctor, and her voice sounded as cold as her expression.

  “I’m Dr. Forsyth, the surgeon who operated on you.”

  “I know you not. Where is... Dr. Perrick?”

  “Dr. Perrick doesn’t work out of this hospital, Miss Delaney... Is he your physician in the States?”

  Robyn didn’t answer, simply frowned again, and the doctor tapped her lightly on the foot. “Could you wriggle these toes for me, please? Just to convince your friend Zachary that you’re all right?”

  “Zachary? You mean Zachary is here?” Robyn gave her first tentative smile since regaining consciousness. She levered herself onto one elbow and peered around the room.

  “I’m here, honey,” Zach said, relieved that she obviously wasn’t paralyzed and yet worried that she hadn’t registered his presence the first time she saw him. He reminded himself again that she’d just woken up from a twenty-four-hour concussion, and he couldn’t expect her to get everything straight right off the bat. Following the doctor’s example, he shifted toward the foot of the bed, so that it would be easier for her to see him.

  Robyn stared at him, her eyes darkening in puzzlement. “William?” she said, her voice rising into a definite question.

  Why in the world was she asking him about his brother, a man she’d never even met?

  “Will is in L.A.,” Zach said. “He spends a lot of time out on the West Coast.” He reached out to clasp her hand, taking great care not to disturb the needles leading to the various IVs. “How are you feeling, honey? Do you think you could manage a small smile, just to convince me that you’re not hurting all over?”

  “You are not William,” she said with clipped, angry precision. “Why do you wear those outrageous garments? And where is Zachary? The physician told me that Zachary is here.”

  Somehow, Zach forced back his fear. “Darling, I am Zachary.” He leaned across the bed and took her hand, kissing the tips of her fingers in the hope that close physical contact would help her to remember.

  The gesture seemed to make her annoyed rather than reassured. Scowling, Robyn tugged at her hand, pulling away from him. The movement made her IV tubes jangle and her gaze lighted on the needles, wires, and tubes taped into the back of her hand. Her peevish expression changed to one of stark fear.

  “What have you done to me?” she demanded hoarsely, staring at her hand as if paralyzed with horror. Her mouth fell open and she gave a weak, terrified scream. “Take these monstrous leaches from me! I will not consent to be bled!”

  “Robyn, honey, it’s just the IV needles,” Zach said quickly. She paid no attention. She tore her hand out of his grasp and ripped at the tape holding the IV tubes in place.

  “Remove... these... accursed... slugs... from... me!” she yelled, panting and gasping for air. “Dear God, ‘tis no leach but a poisonous adder, biting into my flesh.”

  “Hold her still!” Dr. Forsyth commanded. He spoke into the intercom. “Bring me ten ccs of Valium right away!” He ran across the room and seized Robyn’s arm, holding it out so that she couldn’t grab the IVs. She continued to writhe and scream, twisting her body with amazing, demented strength.

  Sick with worry, Zach forced himself to stroke her cheek with a smooth, gentle touch. “Robyn, darling, you must try to calm down—”

  Her gaze rolled toward him. Her screaming stopped on a choking, strangled gasp, and her body froze into stillness. She cringed back against the pillows, shrinking away from Zach’s touch. “Sweet Jesu, now I understand what ails me! My sins have found me out! You are a demon, cast in William’s form and sent to beguile me.”

  Zach drew in a deep breath. “Honey, listen to me, I’m Zach and I love you—”

  “Get thee gone from me, spawn of Satan!” she hissed, crossing her hand in front of her face. “I am not deceived by thy looks, nor dazzled by thy beauty. Go back to the devil who vomited thee up from the bowels of hell. Thou—artnot—William—and I shall not be deceived!”

  “Darling, of course I’m not William. Will is my brother.” He fought to keep the fear out of his voice. “Sweetheart, I’m Zach. Zach Bowleigh—”

  “Touch me not, devil’s get!” Robyn jerked away, then suddenly stared down at her stomach. “My babe!” she croaked in a frantic whisper. “Dear God, what hast thou done with my babe? Sweet Jesu, hast thou stolen him out of my womb and offered him up to Satan?”

  The doctor gave Zach no chance to answer, even if he had been capable of producing a reply.

  “Enough,” Dr. Forsyth said. He flipped the intercom switch. “Am I going to get that Valium anytime soon?” He nodded to the nurse, who marched with unmistakable determination toward Zach.

  “You have to leave, Mr. Bowleigh. Hurry up, please, you’re disturbing the patient.”

  Robyn’s hysterical cries pounded against Zach’s ears.

  “No,” he said. “You must let me stay with her. She’ll recognize me in a minute—”

  “Get out, Mr. Bowleigh.” Dr. Forsyth didn’t raise his voice, but his command brooked no argument. “Nurse, I need you over here. Take her other arm and hold her still. Dammit, she’s not giving up! She’s going to rip the IV right out! Where the hell is that Valium?”

  “Here, sir.” Another nurse hurried into the room, a syringe in her hand.

  Zach was almost pushed from the room. He paced the corridor, wincing when a horrible, piercing shriek ended in an abrupt and even more horrible silence. Christ, what was happening in there? Zach wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Right at this moment, he wasn’t sure about anything much. Except that if a bullet intended to wreck him and the Gallery had ended up destroying Robyn’s joyful and intelligent spirit, he would never forgive himself.

  * * *

  Zach acknowledged the greetings of two or three nurses as he walked down the corridor leading to Robyn’s room. During the past four days he’d had ample opportunity to get to know the hospital staff, and he found them both efficient and blessedly tactful. The questions they didn’t ask were legion, and he appreciated their reticence. At a time like this, British understatement was balm for his lacerated soul.

  He paused outside the door of Robyn’s room for a few seconds, mentally preparing himself. The sound of a h
igh-pitched chuckle caught him unprepared. Robyn was laughing? He pushed open the door.

  Robyn didn’t even glance toward him. She had the control switch for her bed clasped in her hands. Brow furrowed in concentration, she held the control at arm’s length, eyeing it warily, as if it were a monster needing to be tamed. Pressing the button, she sent the bed zooming up and down, her breathless giggles sounding almost as much scared as happy.

  Mrs. Delaney gave him a strained smile, but she didn’t leave Robyn’s side. Al Delaney, however, seemed glad of an excuse to get away from watching his daughter’s antics, and he greeted Zach with a friendly hello, followed by a bewildered shaking of his head.

  “She’s been at it for an hour,” he said, glancing over his shoulder toward Robyn. “Up and down, first the head of the bed, then the foot, then the whole dang mattress. Honest to goodness, Zach, it’s driving me crazy.”

  “Did you try asking her to stop?”

  “Yeah.” Al Delaney shoved his hands into the pockets of his rumpled slacks. “She threw a tantrum.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah. Her mother gets upset when she lets rip like that. It’s so unlike her, you know.”

  Al didn’t need to say anything more. Zach had seen several of Robyn’s post-op tantrums and they were definitely not a pretty sight. He cleared his throat. “I’m sure she’ll be better when she’s back in familiar surroundings.” His first lie of the morning, because he wasn’t sure at all. “Has Dr. Forsyth said anything about when she can go home?”

  “Early next week, he thinks. He wants to make sure the wound in her scalp is completely healed before she risks a transatlantic plane journey.”

  “Did the doctor say anything about Robyn’s mental—” Zach broke off, unable to put the harsh truth into words. He tried again. “Did he indicate how long it might be before Robyn gets back to her old self again?”