My Heart Stood Still

by Lynn Kurland

  "Iolanthe," he said with a sigh as he watched her reject half a dozen things she was definitely going to need up north, "will you please stop counting the cost?"

  She looked at him miserably. "But I've no coin."

  "I have plenty for the both of us. Please, please just let me buy you a few things."

  "I'd listen to him, lovey," the saleswoman said with a knowing nod. "Be grateful for a man who's willing to treat you to a few pretty things."

  Iolanthe relented, reluctantly, but at least Thomas had something to put in the trunk. He wished, absently, that Megan had been around to show Iolanthe the ropes.

  He especially wished it when he realized he would probably have to hit the intimate apparel store with her.

  He stood on the sidewalk and pointed toward the door.

  "I draw the line here," he said.

  "Afeared, are your? "

  "Damn right," he said, leaning firmly and immovably against the window. "I'll be right here. I'm sure someone inside will help." He pulled out his wallet and handed her a hundred pounds. "That ought to cover it"

  She put her shoulders back, took a deep breath, and marched inside. Thomas resolutely refused to speculate on the potential for odd conversations inside or about the directions those conversations might take. He concentrated instead on the rain that was starting to fall in a typically misty way and the way his hands were so comfortable inside the pockets of his leather jacket. He wondered if it might be possible to find such a coat for Iolanthe.

  He looked across the street and saw just the kind of shop he was looking for. He leaned his head into the lingerie shop and looked around for a salesperson. He saw one, told her where he was going and to tell Iolanthe the same, then ducked across the street. He found her a coat and bought it in record time, but still he wasn't fast enough. He stepped out onto the sidewalk and saw her across the street, looking as if she'd just lost her last link to civilization.

  He walked across the street, keeping his eyes on her, just in case she decided to bolt. She saw him the moment he put his foot on her sidewalk.

  The relief on her face almost brought him to his knees.

  "Oh," she said, flinging herself into his arms. "I thought ye'd left!"

  He wrapped his arms around her and enjoyed for an eternity the feel of her clinging to him. He knew it couldn't last for long.

  "Oh, Iolanthe," he whispered, "where would I go?"

  And for a brief, heart-shattering moment, she stayed in his arms as if she wanted to be there.

  Then she stepped back, and smiled up at him with watery eyes.

  "I'm a fool," she said with half a laugh. "They told me you had gone, but didn't tell me where. I should have trusted that you'd come back."

  He wanted to say, I always will, but he didn't want to ruin whatever kind feelings she was having for him at the moment, so he kept his mouth shut, took her arm, and steered her toward the car.

  The drive back to the inn took far less time than he would have liked. Iolanthe was silent. She wasn't even praying as she stared out the window. Thomas kept to his plan and didn't disturb the peace.

  They had almost reached the inn when she spoke.

  "Thomas?"

  "Yes."

  "When can we go?"

  He didn't have to ask where. "Whenever you'd like."

  "Tomorrow?"

  "Tomorrow it is, then."

  Let her go, came Duncan's advice in his mind. Ambrose's suggestion of Give her time came hard on its heels. Thomas didn't like either one, but he realized he didn't have much choice.

  Besides, what was a month or two in the grander scheme of things? Or a year. Or two.

  After all, Iolanthe had waited six hundred. What was a couple of years when compared to that?

  Chapter 39

  Iolanthe stared at the clothing she had laid out on her bed. On the right was her own poor dress, having been cleaned and mended by Artane's skilled seamstresses. Alongside it was the finery she'd been gifted. She shuddered to think what the material alone had cost. Mayhap Lord Roger was so rich that a pair of gowns to a stranger troubled him not.

  But if those things had come so dear, what was she to say about what she saw to her left? Jeans, tunics, sweaters, things to go under the lot, as well as shoes. Dresses too, of course, but hopefully more modest ones than she'd seen sported by the wench who'd served them tea. Iolanthe reached out and touched the coat Thomas had bought her. The leather was black and so fine, she was sure she'd never seen its like.

  She closed her eyes and swallowed with difficulty. She could never repay him for any of it, not if she worked a lifetime. That he should give her so much when she had so little to give him in return was truly shameful. The least she could have done was return his love.

  Yet how was she to give herself to a man she didn't know? Never mind her dreams of him. Never mind the times she looked at him and felt as if she had truly passed half a lifetime with him. The stirrings of her heart were overwhelmed by the churnings of her mind. How could she give her heart, when she was so unsure of it? Would she be loving him for what he'd given her, or for what he was?

  She wrapped her arms around herself. There was only one way to find out. She reached over and began to fold up the things she'd brought from the past. Once she had carefully tucked them into her satchel, she turned toward the clothing of the Future. Her past was behind her, and there was no turning back now—not that she would have wanted to. There was nothing in 1382 for her. She would have to make herself a place in 2001.

  And hope that Thomas could be patient whilst she did so.

  She dressed herself in underclothing as the women had shown her, then took a deep breath and put on the jeans.

  "Scandalous," she muttered as she tugged on the zipper.

  A blue sweater pleased her eye. She looked at the shoes, then decided that perhaps since the floors of the inn were laid with tapestries, there was no need for anything on her feet. She dragged her hands through her hair, considered using a brush, then decided 'twas futile. She turned toward her chamber door. Dinner awaited her. Dinner with souls from the Future. Mayhap with new clothing, the other diners wouldn't gape at her so fiercely.

  She had scarce descended the steps when the front door blew open and several people tumbled in. The wind gusted enough that it took the two men there to heave the door to.

  "Damn it, Helen," the elder of the men grumbled, "why is it always raining here?"

  "It's England, dear. I like the rain. Don't you, Gideon?"

  The younger man smiled, and Iolanthe couldn't help but admit that he was very handsome. "Aye, Mum," he said, giving the older of the two women a peck on the cheek. "It makes things quite green. Don't you agree, darling?"

  Iolanthe looked at the younger of the two women and found that she had quite suddenly lost her breath. It didn't matter that the woman looked as much like Thomas as a woman could and still be beautiful. Her red hair had been much abused by the wind and stood out in all directions. Her cheeks were just as red, and her green eyes were damp, apparently from enduring the inclement weather.

  But it was her smile that Iolanthe couldn't look away from. When she looked at that smile, she saw Thomas.

  And for some reason, that made something inside her shift, like her heart settling into place.

  Home.

  "Iolanthe!"

  Iolanthe found herself immediately embraced by that same red-haired woman, who was laughing and crying at the same time. She was jumping up and down as she hugged Iolanthe hard enough to render her breathless. Iolanthe closed her eyes and heard the faintest voice of a memory come back to her. Megan.

  When the woman realized that Iolanthe wasn't hopping up and down as well, she pulled back with a puzzled expression on her face. "Iolanthe?"

  Iolanthe closed her eyes briefly, then looked at Thomas's sister. "Megan," she croaked.

  Megan burst into another smile. "You remembered! You remembered me! When Thomas called yesterday and told me what he'd done, I
just couldn't wait to come see you. I'm so happy for you!"

  Her man, perhaps he was her husband, put his hand on her shoulder and smiled. "How do you do?" he said with the crisp tones she'd come to associate with most of the people in the inn. "I'm Megan's husband, Gideon, though I don't suppose she talked about me all that much the last time she was here."

  Iolanthe looked at Megan. "You were here?"

  Megan smiled. "About a month ago. But that was before ..." She looked up behind Iolanthe, and her smile returned. "Thomas, she remembered me!"

  Iolanthe turned to see Thomas standing halfway down the stairs, looking as stunned as she felt.

  "What," he managed in a strangled voice, "are you guys doing here?"

  "Megan made us come," the older man grumbled. "We're scouting out the place for Christmas. Can't understand why we'd want to, but there it is."

  Iolanthe surmised that this was Thomas's father. He looked a bit like him, and when Thomas crossed the entry-way to embrace the older man, she knew she was right. Thomas embraced his mother, shook Gideon's hand, then swept Megan off her feet in a crushing hug. Iolanthe found herself feeling immediately and thoroughly out of place.

  Until, that is, Megan slung her arm around her shoulders and kept her from fleeing.

  "Mom, Dad, this is Iolanthe. She's a friend of mine."

  "And mine," Thomas put in pointedly.

  Megan waved him away. "Yeah, yeah, and who went shopping with her for the first time? We bonded over Keds. What have you done for her?"

  Iolanthe opened her mouth to protest, then realized Megan was teasing her brother. She decided that perhaps it would behoove her to keep silent and see how things played out. She would have gladly escaped back upstairs, but Megan seemed determined to keep her nearby.

  She suffered through discreetly speculative looks from Thomas's parents, then found herself taken in hand by both Thomas's mother and his sister while the men dealt with the gear.

  It was a miserable evening. She couldn't believe that Thomas's parents weren't burning with questions they didn't dare ask. Judging by the looks Megan was giving her, Megan had already had many of her questions answered and Iolanthe had to wonder by whom.

  Perhaps by her own self?

  A month ago?

  The thought of trying to work that out gave her pains in the head. Apparently she had known Megan before—or was that after? If Megan's words were true, Thomas had called her the day before and told her of his successful journey. But none of that soothed Iolanthe. To be faced so inescapably by her past that was in reality perhaps her future was almost more than she could take. By the time dinner was over, and the family had retreated to the sitting chamber, she thought she would weep if she didn't have some air.

  Thomas grabbed her hand before she entered.

  "Be back in a minute," he said to the occupants, then shut the door. He looked down at Iolanthe. "I had no idea they were coming."

  She squirmed miserably. "Thomas—"

  "I only called Megan to tell her I was back."

  " 'Tis fine—"

  "I couldn't not tell her that you were okay."

  "Thomas, 'tis nothing. She didn't grieve me."

  "But my parents and their intense desire to pry into your life probably did." He smiled down at her, but it was a pained smile. "How about a walk in the garden to clear our heads? I'll go grab our coats and your shoes."

  She nodded, grateful for the reprieve. Thomas returned, helped her into her coat, put her shoes on her feet like a servant, then walked with her through the dining chamber, through the kitchen, and out into the back garden. He didn't touch her, didn't speak, didn't force her down any path. He merely walked where she did with his head bowed.

  "Thomas," she said quietly, "I cannot repay you for the clothes. Or for anything else."

  "I wish," he said wearily, "that you would stop trying." He looked at her, and there was no smile on his face. "Iolanthe, I did what I did because I loved you. I knew the risks. You didn't want me to go back in time, but I did it anyway, and that's my price to pay. I'm not asking you to love me, and I think I'm sorry I ever suggested that you once did." He paused, looking as if he'd already said too much. Then he sighed. "I want you to be happy."

  She nodded, feeling altogether wretched.

  "We'll leave tomorrow morning, just as we planned."

  She didn't argue.

  He looked as if he planned to say something else, then shook his head.

  "It's late," he said quietly. "We'll make an early start."

  "Aye."

  She wanted to go into his arms, bury herself in his embrace, and never leave it. She also wanted to cease feeling indebted to him for all he'd done for her. There was surely no means for her to repay him. Perhaps he had it aright and she should cease trying.

  Home. It called her like a beacon. She felt almost certain that 'twas there she would find her answers.

  She took a deep breath. "Thank you, Thomas."

  "It's my pleasure, Iolanthe."

  It took two days to reach her home. Thomas had driven like a man who wasn't in a hurry. She hadn't protested, for the speed of the automobile was still unsettling to her. The other reason she hadn't urged him to greater haste was that the slow travel gave her ample time to study the man beside her. She looked at his legs encased in those well-worn jeans and wondered how many miles he'd walked and ridden to chase after her and the English-man who would have murdered her. His arms were hidden by a shirt the same color as his jeans, but she'd watched those arms strain under poor cloth and seen the muscles there. She had to admit to having watched him in Artane's lists a time or two. He was not the most skilled, but he was far from the least. Had he learned swordplay simply for her? She suspected that if he'd had enough time, he could have been the equal of any one of her kin.

  She looked next at his hands that rested on the wheel of the car. They were strong hands, scarred here and there from she knew not what. How did he earn his bread in this Future of his? What did he do for pleasure? He'd told her that 'twas a goodly part of his own labor that had rebuilt the tower of Thorpewold. Was he a mason, then? How would those hands look tending a child?

  Which made her realize, with a start, mat she didn't know if he had a wife or not.

  Then it occurred to her that he would hardly have been rushing off to rescue her if he'd been wed.

  It was his face, though, that she spent most of her time studying. It had been, over the past two days, a rather serious face. To distract him, she had asked him, far into the morning of their first day of travel north, to tell her of his life.

  It had eased the tension in his shoulders. And his tales of enterprise had been interesting, as were his boasts of mountains climbed. It was those stories she had liked the best, for she had seen the passion in his face and heard it in his voice.

  Somewhere long past Edinburgh, long past Inverness, she had begun to realize how it was a woman could easily fall in love with the man.

  And then she had realized, to her astonishment, that for her, such a thing might have begun long before that moment.

  "We're close," he said, interrupting her musings.

  She blinked, then looked around, realizing that he spoke the truth. Though she knew the countryside around her home, she could see how things had changed. Trees had grown up and others had obviously been hewn down. A road cut through land that had seen nothing but cattle and horses in her time.

  She wiped her hands on her jeans, finding herself unaccountably nervous.

  "Will I be disturbing them, do you think?" she asked.

  He looked at her with such frank astonishment that she almost smiled.

  "Well, no," he said. "They're expecting us. I called them last night to let them know we're coming." He smiled faintly. "They're excited to see you, Iolanthe."

  She nodded and scrubbed her hands some more on her legs. She looked out the window, but that didn't soothe her. The closer she came to her destination, the more nervous she became.


  "Thomas," she managed. "I don't know ... what if—"

  "Io, it's your family. They love you."

  "They don't know me!"

  He was silent. She supposed it could have been because he was pulling through the gates to her family home. Perhaps he'd suddenly found himself without a voice. And then it occurred to her just why he might be avoiding her question.

  "Did I... was I here?"

  He turned off the car, put both hands on the wheel, then looked at her.

  "I think," he said slowly, "that you shouldn't worry about the past. Let things unfold as they will. Jamie is your grandfather's grandfather. If anyone should understand the shock of a different century, it's him. He'll be a great help to you. As for the other, I'm not going to say any more. Ask Jamie if you really want the answer." He smiled, and that took away the sting of his words. "He'll be able to tell you things I can't."

  She nodded, then watched him get out of the car. She fumbled at her side, then found that the door was opened for her. Thomas stood back and waited for her to get out.

  "Our things?" she asked, gesturing toward the trunk.

  "I'll get them later," he said. "Come on, Io. Your family's waiting."

  She had no choice but to follow him.

  She stood at the door as he knocked, finding herself slipping her hands into the pockets of her coat as Thomas often did. No wonder he found it so comforting.

  After an eternity of waiting, the front door opened.

  "Hey, Zach," Thomas said easily. "How's tricks?"

  The young man facing him gaped, a forgotten snack dangling from his hand. He stared at Iolanthe, then at Thomas, then back at her until she wondered if she'd failed to dress herself properly.

  "Iolanthe, this is Zachary. He's Elizabeth's youngest brother. Elizabeth is Jamie's wife." Thomas pushed Zachary aside and led her into the hall. "Zach, close the door. Io, come with me, and I'll make the introductions."

  Iolanthe followed him, then found herself shadowed by Zachary, who continued to stare at her as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. Thomas reached over and gave him a companionable shove.