"No, and I'm afraid I'm not like that either. You give me way too much credit."
Edward peered sharply at her, then turned his gaze to the brandy in his glass. His hands swirled the amber liquid in a lazy, hypnotic wave. “Do you care for him?" he asked quietly, his gaze finding hers. "Do you love him?"
She stared into his eyes, reading concern and sympathy and, possibly . . . hope. Her voice was soft, the words nearly a whisper. “Yes, I do."
"And does he love you?"
She hesitated for a long moment and pulled her gaze from his. She stared unseeing across the room. "I believe so, yes."
Edward frowned thoughtfully. "Yet you will not marry him. You must both be very unhappy."
"That about says it, Edward." She laughed harshly. "Actually miserable, destroyed, devastated. All better words to describe what's going on.”
"I know you are hurt . . . now." Edward paused as if considering his words. "However, it may very well be for the best."
Startled by his comment, Maggie's brows drew together in a questioning frown. "Why do you say that?”
Edward sighed. "I know he is a member of your family and I have hesitated to say anything, but at this point it may be ill-advised not to say something." He paused, then plunged ahead. "The Earl of Ridgewood you know today is a far cry from the man I first met years ago. Then he used people cruelly, particularly women, for his own purposes. Not just Cyprians and demireps, that is to be expected, but respectable, impressionable young women. Callously tossing them aside when his pleasure was satiated. For the last seven years, he has apparently abandoned that pastime, at least with honorable women, to concentrate on his business pursuits. But I do not believe he could have changed that much."
His words astonished her. It wasn't so much what Edward said. Maggie was familiar enough with Adam's past to be able to put Edward's comments in perspective. But the tone of his words seemed tinged with a vague bitterness.
He looked her straight in the eyes and issued a chilling warning. "Be careful of him, Maggie. He cannot be trusted with something as fragile as your heart. Do not change your mind. Do not give in."
Maggie left with Edward's admonition ringing in her ears. She knew Adam well enough to know whatever he had done in the past, he had never deliberately used or hurt anyone, especially women. His sense of honor was too strong. From what Lydia had told her it was highly developed even in his youth.
What bothered Maggie was how Edward had gotten this distorted picture. He admitted he barely knew Adam. She mulled it over in her mind on the way home and realized the culprit must be the vicious gossip Lydia claimed was the lifeblood of society here. What a shame it would still influence Edward's opinions of Adam even after all these years. This explained why Adam was always so concerned about Lydia's reputation and her own. Obviously whatever one did in nineteenth-century London might well be forgiven but never forgotten. A chill shivered through her as if a shadow passed over her heart. Even if the price was astronomical, maybe she was better off in the long run going back where she belonged.
For the afternoon, Maggie had managed to forget her heartache in Edward's pleasant company. But once she returned to the grand mansion, her very presence in the house, his house, triggered a wave of heart-stopping anguish. Edward had provided a sympathetic ear but the man she really wanted to talk to was Adam.
On the way to her room she encountered him in the corridor where he could not escape.
"Adam, please." She turned pleading eyes toward him and laid her hand lightly on his arm. “We have to talk."
He glanced at her hand as if her touch somehow violated him and, trembling, she withdrew. His gaze met hers and she read icy disdain and hardened self-control. "I believe all has been said that needs to be said. By my calculations, you should be leaving in fifteen days. Please enjoy our hospitality during your remaining time here, but . . ."
His eyes narrowed and glinted dangerously. The line of his jaw tensed. He towered above her and for the first time in his presence a twinge of real fear rippled through her.
"Stay out of my way. I do not want to see you again." He turned and with determined steps strode down the hall. The vehemence of his words, the anger he could not disguise in his eyes, the rigid self-control guarding every line of his body all combined for an almost physical impact. Maggie staggered slightly as if she'd been struck. She sagged against the wall and those damn tears made an appearance again.
God, she had hurt him so much. How could he bear it?
How could she?
She hurt, too, after all. The realization hit her like a smack in the face.
Wait a minute. He wasn't the only one in pain. He wasn't the only one suffering. Sure, he felt like the world was ending but he only had to deal with his own grief. Maggie had her anguish plus the hurt and guilt of knowing her decision devastated the man she loved.
She swiped angrily at the tears drying on her face. He had a lot of nerve. Instead of each of them suffering they could be spending this time together. If this was all the time they had, it was just plain stupid to waste it.
The more she thought about it, the more anger replaced the sorrow in her heart. She'd be damned if she would continue to let him ignore her. This was her life, too, and she wasn't going to sacrifice these precious days because he was nursing wounded pride along with his broken heart. Her heart was just as broken.
Her world was just as shattered. Her misery was just as great, if not greater.
Her chin raised in defiance. Sure she planned on leaving, but she wasn't gone yet. Until she walked out of that door and stepped into that carriage and was tossed back to the twentieth century this relationship, or love affair, or whatever one wanted to call it wasn't over yet. Not by a long shot.
Regardless of what the high and mighty earl of whatever Adam Coleridge said, there was no way in hell she'd stay out of his sight. In fact, she was going to be in his sight so much he'd have to physically throw her in the street to get a moment's peace.
Maggie marched into her room and straight to the door to Adam's chamber. It wasn't locked. She cracked it open just a bit, enough to hear him come in but not enough for him to see her. She wanted to keep the element of surprise on her side. Maggie always was better in a fight when her opponent wasn't paying attention or thought she was unconscious or lulled into some kind of spiritless acceptance.
Ha! She'd show him. She'd never given up on anything in her life without a fight. She couldn't battle the forces of time but compared to that, Coleridge would be a walk in the park. Maggie loved him and he loved her and she wasn't about to let that go until the time came. No matter what he thought, this was not the time.
Maggie dragged a comfortable chair to the connecting door and settled in to wait. She would wait all night if necessary. After all, what was the loss of one night's sleep? She had to squeeze a lifetime of love into the next two weeks. One night wasn't too high a price to pay to get started.
***
If not for Richard Westbrook, Adam would have been embroiled in at least one, and possibly more duels in the few days since he'd taken up residence in a chair in front of the fireplace at White's. The illegality of dueling did not seem to appreciably diminish its frequency. Adam's surly, rude behavior had infuriated more than one patron of the exclusive establishment and only Richard's interference, including his subtle reminders of Adam’s expert marksmanship, had averted disaster. Richard scanned the room and spotted his friend sitting where he had left him hours before.
Richard sighed and strode toward him. It was fortunate Lydia had the presence of mind to send a message to Richard two days earlier about Adam's behavior. It seemed the years of proper living had abruptly vanished and Adam had reverted to the hellion days of his youth. Or perhaps residing in hell was a more accurate description.
Aside from his belligerent attitude toward all who came near, he seemed to want to do little more than drink himself into oblivion. For good or ill, he could never achieve that. Adam had th
e amazing ability to hold his liquor far better than an ordinary man. To Richard's keen eyes, the copious amounts Adam consumed had very little effect.
Richard sank into the empty chair next to his friend and signaled for a drink of his own. Something had to be done about Adam for his own sake and for Richard's. Amanda was quite understanding about the time spent with his friend in this sorry state but even her patience had limits. Richard had no desire to test them, and tonight he was determined to finally get Adam to talk about what happened. Lydia's note said only that there was trouble between Adam and Maggie.
"So, have you decided what you will do?" Richard quirked an eyebrow questioningly. "Or do you simply plan to remain here drowning in a vat of brandy for the rest of your life?"
"Go away, Richard," Adam said, his manner surly. "Leave me alone."
"I would dearly love to do just that but I feel an odd obligation to try to help one of the few people in the world I consider a friend." He lounged farther into the chair and chuckled. "I have no doubt you would do the same for me."
Adam ignored him and Richard sighed impatiently. He obviously needed to take a more direct approach. "Correct me if I am mistaken but I was under the distinct impression you planned on marrying Maggie. What has happened?”
Adam turned weary eyes toward him. "She won't have me, Richard." He turned his face back toward the fireplace and spoke so quietly Richard had to strain forward to hear him. “She says she can't stay here. Says she has to go home. She's not from here, you know."
I know," Richard said, fighting the temptation to be amused. Perhaps the liquor had finally caught up with Adam. Neither of them was as young as they used to be. "She's from America, isn't she?"
"Not just America." Adam shook his head sorrowfully and leaned toward Richard as if confiding a great secret. "She's from the future. From 1995. Says if she stays, she'll muck up history for the next two hundred years, give or take a few years."
The liquor had definitely caught up with Adam. Richard could no longer prevent the smile playing on his lips. "Well, that certainly is a dilemma. You say she can't stay?"
Adam shook his head somberly.
Richard was hard-pressed to keep from laughing. His friend looked so sincere and unhappy and was so obviously in his cups. Richard had never seen Adam in this condition and it indicated just how miserable he truly was, but even so, a woman from the future? The very idea was ridiculous, although Richard had to give Adam his due for imagination and originality.
Richard suppressed a grin. “Does she know precisely when she will be leaving?"
"In about two weeks."
"Well then, it would seem to me that instead of wasting your time here, you should be spending every minute with Maggie. Attempting to convince her to give up the, um, future and stay with you."
“It wouldn't do any good.” Adam shook his head in misery.
"Well, old man, I think you should bloody well give it a try. Now come on." Richard pushed himself out of the chair and stood over Adam. “We shall call for your carriage. It is past time we both retired to our respective homes."
Adam unfolded his body from the deep chair and rose beside his friend. Surprised, Richard noted Adam was far steadier on his feet than he expected.
"It won't work," Adam said sadly, shaking his head.
"Give it a try, Adam." Richard escorted his friend toward the door. "It seems to me that at this point you have very little to lose. And possibly very much to gain."
***
Adam stalked into his room and shrugged his jacket off, tossing it on a nearby chair. He stole a quick glance at the door to Maggie's room. In recent days, that glance had become a habit. Startled, he looked again. From here it appeared the door to her chamber stood open. He moved cautiously closer. It was open. Gently he pushed and the door swung wide. Adam peered into the darkened room. There, curled up in a chair near the door, was Maggie, sound asleep.
Adam thought his heart would break anew at the sight. Her head rested on her arms; long, lush lashes swept her cheek; her lips parted slightly with each breath. Was it only two weeks ago he had watched her curiously as she slept? Wondering who this woman was? What she was like? A lifetime had passed since then.
Adam wanted to sweep her into his arms and steal her off to his bed. Wanted to keep her imprisoned there for tonight and always. His fists clenched by his side. No. If she would not stay with him willingly he would not force her. He would not beg.
He gently pulled the door back to where he had found it and headed toward his bed, pulling off his cravat and kicking off his shoes. The temptation of knowing Maggie was within his reach dictated he not remove his clothing. Adam turned down the lamp and fell into bed. Crossing his arms under his head he lay wide awake, staring at the canopy, asking questions he had no answers for.
Was Maggie right? Would it create a great imbalance in the fabric of time for her to stay with him? Could one mere person make a difference in the centuries to come, as Maggie believed? If she were correct, he had no right to expect her to stay. In fact, it would be as much his responsibility as hers to make sure she returned to her own time, but Adam could not dismiss the feeling that radiated from the pit of his stomach and filled every nook and cranny of his soul.
He and Maggie were destined, fated to be together.
In the meantime, should he follow Richard's advice? Spend every possible minute with her in hopes of changing her mind? Or was it better to acknowledge defeat and start getting over her now? Better to lose no time in returning to his well-ordered life? It seemed far less painful but somehow cowardly. How empty his life would be without her.
Eventually he would marry. It was his duty and responsibility to wed and produce an heir. But how could any woman compare to his outrageous, passionate Maggie?
Maggie. The only woman in a lifetime of searching he had found to love. The only woman he had ever admired for intelligence and courage and, God help him, independence. The only woman he had ever made love to whose body and soul soared with his own.
Would he ever escape the memories of their days together? Forget the sound of her laughter, the teasing lilt in her voice and gentle insistent demands of her touch? Would he compare every other woman to her? Search every face hoping against hope she had returned? Would he do that for the rest of his life?
And what of her? Surely she would marry someday and have children. Would she look at them and wonder what children she and he would have created? Or would her days spent with him simply become another adventure in a lifetime of adventures? Would their love and their passion fade to a dim memory somewhere in the distant past? Would she forget the fire and the frenzy and the way their souls forged together for all time?
Would she look for his grave?
The questions assaulted him, battering his mind, and he tossed and turned on the bed until he could take no more. He leapt up and strode to the chair, flinging his jacket to the floor. He positioned the chair in front of Maggie's door and pushed. The door swung open. She had not moved. Adam sank into the chair, propped his elbows on the sides and rested his chin on his steepled fingers.
Maybe Richard was right. Maybe not. At any rate, at this moment, he could at least be near her without her knowing. Without losing any of his masculine pride. He would commit every detail of her face, every line of her body to memory. And he would do it well.
It must last a lifetime.
***
Sunlight streamed into the room. Maggie's eyes flicked open. She jerked upright in the chair and winced, the crick in her neck a painful protest. Damn! She must have fallen asleep. Cautiously she leaned forward and peaked through the crack in the door. Nothing. She pulled the door wider and finally flung it open. Empty. Maggie moved to the bed and found the bedclothes disturbed. Adam had obviously been here and gone.
"Ha! If he thinks he can escape me that easily he's got another think coming." She stalked out the door, building up steam, heading for the breakfast room.
"Okay, wh
ere is he?" Maggie stormed in and scanned the room.
Lydia sat serenely at the table behind a pile of correspondence. She glanced up casually. "Who?"
"You know who," Maggie snapped. “Your brother, that's who. Now where is he?"
Lydia peered around with an air of surprised innocence. "Well, I don't believe he is here."
“I can see that." Maggie clenched her teeth. “I have to find him. I have to talk to him. His days of avoiding me are over. And as for you . . ." Maggie paused to level Lydia a scathing glare. "You may be right. I may be scared about love and commitment and everything that goes with it. But if I had a choice . . ." She hesitated, then made up her mind and plunged ahead. "If I had a choice, I'd stay here with Adam. But I don't have a choice. And until I leave I want to spend every possible minute with your pigheaded, sexist, stuffy, annoying brother. Do you understand?"
An amused smile rested on Lydia's lips. "Bravo!"
"Bravo?”
"I was wondering when you'd stop behaving like a beaten puppy. It is not at all like you. I must say it took far longer for you to come to your senses than I'd anticipated."
Maggie narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "You expected this?"
“Oh, my, yes," Lydia said with a light laugh. "I assume you have concocted some sort of plan. Not a kidnapping, of course." Lydia had the grace to blush at the reminder. "But something equally as clever."
Maggie sighed and sank into a chair. At least she and Lydia seemed to be allies once again. One Coleridge down, one to go.
"I have to talk to him. I have to make him listen, try to make him understand. If, of course, I can find him."
"That’s not at all difficult. I believe he is at his club, White's. It has become a second home."
"Great." Maggie leaned forward eagerly. "Where is this place?"
"It's on St. James Street, of course. Not far from here." Lydia's brows drew together in a delicate frown; then her eyes widened. Comprehension dawned on her face. "Oh no, Maggie. You wouldn't. You couldn't. It's not permitted for a respectable woman to even be on that street, let alone go into a club. Your reputation will be ruined."
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