by Jana Oliver
Cynda took her time undressing, knowing he was watching. Seduction came in many forms. First she removed the boots, then the hose, making sure he got a good view of her legs. Then her skirt, petticoats and the bodice. That left the onsie with the lace edging, which was about as feminine as she got. She reached for the ribbon ties to remove it.
“No, leave that for me,” he said. She shook out her hair and moved closer. “You are beautiful, you know,” he confided huskily.
She scoffed, even though she enjoyed hearing it. “You’re biased.”
“I know true beauty when I see it. Adelaide Winston had it. So do you, now, and in the future.”
The compliment warmed her cheeks. She never blushed, but she would for this man.
“What did she say to you?”
He placed a kiss on her forehead, brushing back a stray strand of hair. “That if we trust our hearts, all will be well.”
Sitting on the side of the bed, she remembered the ring. As she went to remove it, he stopped her. “It’s only fitting that you keep it,” he said.
“But—”
“You didn’t see it, did you?”
She shook her head. “See what?”
“You were still wearing it. I think that bodes well for us.”
Cynda could only nod, flooded with new emotions that were hard to comprehend. He slid his hands down her arms, pulling her closer. The kiss was beautiful in its simplicity.
“New beginnings are always scary,” she admitted.
“For both of us.” He had as much to lose as she did. As she crawled under the covers, she noticed his interface was open on the nightstand. “Ah, what’s that for? You have other plans for tonight?” she joked.
“No. The night is ours. The interface will dampen any…sounds we make.”
Like Defoe’s watch had masked their conversation in the dining room.
“Sounds? What did Chris tell you?” she asked, suddenly nervous.
He chuckled, clearly enjoying her embarrassment. “He was always a gentleman when it came to you. I just thought we might embarrass our Victorian neighbors, especially since they believe we’re brother and sister.”
She’d forgotten that little white lie. “We’ll have to sort that out tomorrow.”
His fingers deftly untied the top ribbon on her onesie. “That is tomorrow.” Another ribbon fell to his fingers. “I am only concerned with tonight.” Another ribbon. Then the last one. He gently parted the two halves of the garment. His eyes reflected a hunger, a wonderment that she never thought possible. Curving his hands underneath her breasts, he ran his thumbs across each nipple.
Cynda moaned at the sensation. It had been too long. She’d made love, but never been loved. That was what she craved.
Leaning closer, she whispered, “Make time stand still…for both of us.”
Chapter 25
Wednesday, 14 November, 1888
Arundel Hotel
It had been his interface that had pulled him out of her arms. The message made him curse: things were starting to fall out with TPB and Guv wanted him home. Pronto.
“I should ignore them,” Theo said, frowning. He pulled her back in his arms. She relished the feel of their naked bodies sliding against each other. She could still hear the words he’d whispered in her ear as they’d made love. Their cries of passion as they found their release as one.
I don’t want you to go.
Not after last night. They’d savored each other, then rested, then began again. Each joining built the bond between them. A bond for the future.
Now he had to leave.
With a groan, he pulled himself out of bed and began to dress. After he finished, she propped herself up and watched as he sorted through his suitcase, even though he’d not brought that much with him. He took a great deal of time folding and refolding his one pair of socks, delaying the inevitable.
She had to make it easier for him. “It’s not the end of the world,” she jested.
He dropped the socks into the suitcase like they were burning coals. “It is to me. After last night…” His deep eyes met hers. “I’ve…never felt that way with anyone, Jacynda. Not even Mei.”
Her heart melted. “I’ve never felt that way, either.” Then she winked at him, hoping to bust through his melancholy mood. “You can welcome me home in a day or two after I settle things here. I promise I won’t stay any longer than necessary.”
He snapped the suitcase shut and then pulled out his interface. “One minute is too long for me, Jacynda.”
“For me as well.” She pulled on a robe as she walked toward him. Once in his arms, she delivered a kiss that glazed his eyes.
It took all her resolve to step back. “Now off you go!” she said, waving her hand to shoo him away. “I have other paramours to consider, you know.”
An eyebrow arched. “You are too cheeky by half. We’ll have to work on that.”
She sobered. “Don’t let the bad guys win.”
“I won’t.” Then the transfer took him away from her.
The ache began instantly. The bond between them stretched taut.
I’ll be home soon. I promise.
She hadn’t been lying about the paramours. Well, Alastair and Keats weren’t exactly lovers, but she owed them a goodbye. They weren’t the only ones: so many bridges to burn. The official story was that she was returning home to New York. She’d need to visit Sephora and Sagamor, see how his lordship was doing. Then there was Davy and his mom, and dear Mr. Pratchett at the bookshop.
It was proving difficult, caught between the desire to go home and the sadness of leaving true friends behind.
As she prepared for her visit to the Wescombs, Cynda was about to jam the hat pin home when the maid arrived with a calling card.
“Do you wish to meet him downstairs?” the domestic asked.
“No, send him up.” Whatever had brought Chief Inspector Fisher to her doorstep wasn’t a topic they’d want to discuss in the dining room.
From the moment he stepped inside the door, Fisher was all business, which told her this wasn’t a social call. He looked older, more war weary than the last time they’d seen each other. After they’d sat on the couch, he jumped right into it.
“I owe you my most sincere gratitude for saving Jonathon’s life,” he told her. “I still cannot see how you were able to speak directly to His Royal Highness, or for that matter, convince Flaherty to come forward.”
“Sometimes you get lucky.”
He examined her closely. “No, I suspect it had little to do with luck.”
“How can I help you, Chief Inspector?”
“By being honest with me. I am about to retire, Miss Lassiter. I’ve had a long career, and though not every case I’ve encountered has been successfully concluded, this one has. At least, that’s the general consensus. I, on the other hand, have a lot of questions that have gone unanswered since the moment I first heard your name.”
Oh boy, here we go. “What kinds of questions?” she hedged.
“For a start, who you really are and who do you work for? Please, don’t bother with the Pinkerton’s hoax. I have a friend who recently retired from their service. He tells me that you have never worked for Pinkerton’s in any capacity. Neither has Mr. Anderson, nor Mr. Hopkins.”
“Checkmate,” her delusion called out. “He’s got you.”
She lounged back on the couch, pleased with this man’s astuteness. “What took you so long to work that out?”
“My friend has been quite ill and was unable to answer my enquiries for some time. I received his letter just this morning.” Fisher leaned forward. “So who are you, really? How could you possibly know the details of the Lord Mayor’s Day plot so intimately? Where do you go when you disappear from the city?”
If anyone deserved the truth, it was Fisher.
When she didn’t answer right away, he fluffed up. “Miss Lassiter, it’s about time I knew the real story.”
Cynda removed the interf
ace from her pocket, setting it in her palm. As she began to wind it, she let him see the display. Both of his eyebrows raised in surprise as the dial lit up.
“You’re absolutely right, Chief Inspector. It’s about time.”
~••~••~••~
Thursday, 15 November, 1888
The Crystal Palace
“I’m glad Flaherty didn’t blow this all to pieces,” Keats remarked, gazing up at the roof of the massive cast iron and glass building. “It’s such a marvel. No matter how many times I come here, it still makes me feel so insignificant.”
“I must bring Mrs. Butler and her son here. This is an amazing feat of architecture,” Alastair said.
Cynda did a slow three hundred sixty degree turn while Keats and Alastair watched, each with smiles in place. “Wow. It’s huge.”
“When it was originally built in Hyde Park, it was nearly eighteen hundred feet long and just over one hundred feet high,” Keats announced proudly. “Now it’s even larger.”
“Look at that!” Cynda proclaimed, pointing at a tall glass fountain.
“It was made by a firm from Birmingham and has more than four tons of glass in it,” Keats said, this time consulting a brochure.
Victorian ingenuity. Why this time period had gotten under her skin. She’d originally hated it but now it was like a beloved old aunt you couldn’t wait to visit. It was the improbable marriage of stuffy manners paired with an indomitable spirit. A spirit that said anything is possible if you put your mind to it.
As she gaped in wonder, people wandered around them. All were dressed in their finest clothes, whether that be a simple gown or something far more elegant. Children laughed or stared in astonishment at the displays.
Alastair touched her elbow. “Is this still there in…?”
She shook her head. “You’ve got about another fifty years to enjoy it.”
“Oh. Perhaps someday I’ll bring my children and grandchildren here,” Alastair exclaimed.
“I think you’re getting ahead of yourself, my friend,” Keats remarked.
“How so?”
“I would suggest you bring Miss Hanson first. That way you’ll have a better chance of making the other visits sometime down the line.”
Cynda giggled. “He has a point. Besides, when you bring those grandkids here, you can tell them your best friend kept this from being destroyed.”
“I did, didn’t I?” Keats replied.
She held out both arms and they took them, walking three abreast. Cynda couldn’t help but notice some of the women shooting her envious looks.
“I’m leaving right after this,” she told them. “It’s time for me to go home.”
“We thought that might be the case,” the doctor replied. “You have a life there, a future, one that holds a great deal of promise.”
“That wasn’t always the case,” she admitted.
“I know,” he replied. “That’s why I’m so happy for you.”
“This Morrisey person, does he love you?” Keats blurted.
“Keats,” Alastair protested. “That’s a very personal question.”
“I know, but…”
Cynda squeezed the former sergeant’s hand. “Yes, he does love me, and I love him.”
Keats tilted his head in thought. “Well then, it will be all right,” he proclaimed. He gestured with his free hand. “Come along, I’ll show you the Medieval Court. It is very striking.”
As they strolled, Alastair mused, “When I look back on it, I have no regrets for how it’s fallen out. I still work with the poor, and yet now I truly make a difference.”
“Even the future king knows your name,” Keats jested.
“Oh, did I tell you?” the doctor asked. “Reuben has arranged for us to go to Edinburgh so I may meet Dr. Joseph Bell. Can you believe that?”
“That’s fabulous, Alastair. You’ll learn a lot from him.” She turned toward the former detective-sergeant. He’d lost the most of any of them. “What of you, Jonathon?” she asked.
“Well, I would have liked to be chief inspector, but that’s not in the cards now. As for my future, the jury is still out on that.”
“I suspect it will be just fine,” Cynda replied.
“I sometimes have my doubts,” he replied.
“Excuse me, sir?”
They turned as one.
“Are you the fellow in the paper?” a young man asked, addressing Keats.
“I am,” he replied, instantly ill at ease.
“It’s him!” the man said to a group of people. “It’s the man who stopped the bombings!”
There were tentative smiles, and then someone gave a cheer. Others followed. Keats’ face went crimson, his eyes darting around in extreme discomfort.
“Excuse me, but my friend here, Dr. Montrose, was involved as well,” he informed them, gesturing toward Alastair. “He put himself at great personal risk.”
“Don’t confuse them,” the doctor replied.
Cynda broke ranks with the pair, turning to face them. She began to clap.
“Bravo!” she shouted. Heads turned. People began to gravitate toward the noise. “Bravo!”
“What’s it all about?” someone asked. The news began to spread.
Not everyone clapped. Some remembered Keats’ face from when he was on trial. Luckily, those who did appreciate his heroic efforts made up for those who didn’t.
When it was over, Keats was mopping his forehead with a handkerchief.
“How embarrassing,” he murmured, his face still crimson. Cynda could see he’d been moved by the gesture.
“Very extraordinary,” Alastair remarked. “I shall always remember this moment.”
Cynda took their arms again. “You’d better get used to it, gents. The pair of you has just begun to take the Empire by storm.”
~••~••~••~
2058 A.D.
TEM Enterprises
The moment the transfer stabilized and she was able to stand, Cynda heaved a tremendous sigh of relief. She was home, not off-timed into the center of a volcano or the Thames at high tide. Given the nature of the people she’d thwarted, either of those options might have become reality.
Ralph was behind the chronsole, waiting for her. His glasses twinkled in the overhead lights. As soon as the pod door opened, he called out, “Hey!”
“Hey, yourself,” she said. This reminded her of the old days, before it had all gone wrong.
“Welcome back to TEM Enterprises,” he announced. “Heard about Copeland’s end.” He issued a thumbs-up.
“That seems to be everyone’s opinion.”
Cynda wedged herself in the time pod door to allow the disorientation to pass, methodically going through the Orientation to Place technique. Unlike Guv’s chronsole room, this one was pleasant. Artwork on the walls, some sort of flowering vine on a trellis that exuded a faint hint of jasmine. A light piece of Baroque music in the background. Classic.
Like Theo.
Once her head stopped spinning, she made her way to the chronsole, still unsteady. Ralph unwrapped a candy bar and pushed it toward her across the counter. She took a bite, and then frowned. Chocolate just didn’t taste good anymore. She ate it anyway.
“I hear you resigned,” her friend said. “What’s that all about?”
“Theo and I are…” She waggled an eyebrow suggestively.
A pensive frown appeared. “You mean…? You sure that’s a good idea?”
“Yes. I’m in love with him.”
“Well, I’ll be damned!” Ralph exclaimed. “First time for everything.”
She playfully punched him in the arm. He responded with a big hug.
“I don’t agree with your taste,” he said, “but if you’re happy, I’ll deal.”
They hugged harder.
Fulham sailed through the chronsole room door. “Welcome back, Miss Lassiter,” he said.
She grinned. “Hello, Fulham. How are you?”
“Quite well. Your ret
urn will certainly help.”
She followed him out into the corridor, toting her Gladstone.
“Mr. Morrisey has ordered that you are to see the company physician first thing. He is particularly concerned that your health remains sound.”
“Later,” she said, rolling her eyes. “So where is our fearless leader?”
“At TPB. It’s why I sent the message for you to return at this particular point in time.”
Her footsteps faltered. “Is everything okay?” Surely Ralph would have known if it wasn’t.
“Going very well. M.A. Fletcher is the new chairman. The boss is there for a meeting. They’re trying to get the truth out of ex-Chairman Davies.” Fulham gave her a sidelong glance. “Your presence might do the trick.”
“Consider it done.”
“I’ll arrange a grav-car,” he offered.
“No need,” she said, turning on her heel. “I’ll go the high tech way. Tell the boss to save me a seat.”
“That would violate a number of rules,” Fulham observed with a wry smirk.
She smirked back, pulling out her interface. “Yes, it would, but I have a legend to maintain.”
Chapter 26
2058 A.D.
Time Protocol Board Complex
Her grand arrival in the central hall of the TPB complex shocked a number of bystanders. Once the disorientation passed, she ignored the curious stares and marched over to the gleaming reception counter. The AdminBot behind the counter monitored her every move, sizing her up with electronic precision.
Cynda knew what was coming: a lecture about unauthorized arrivals within a public building, along with a citation of all the statutes she’d just broken.
Before the thing could start, she said, “I’m Jacynda Lassiter and I’m supposed to be in a meeting with Chairman Fletcher. Where is it?”
The thing whirred for a moment, then beeped. “Scan ESR Chip,” it demanded.
“Don’t have one. Where’s the meeting?”
“Scan ESR Chip,” the bot repeated, mimicking the bored personality of many human front desk assistants. “No entrance allowed without valid identification.”