by Dawn Brower
Alys always spoke her mind, but she was usually more diplomatic with her choice in words. The past two months the phrases that spilled from her mouth left all of them befuddled. A lot of them had been unclear in meaning, but they could guess. None of them dared to ask her for clarify on any of them. They didn’t dare spark any more of her ire.
James nodded. “I must leave. Thank you for your assistance.”
Rosanna smiled. “It’s my pleasure as always.” Her heart ached as she stared up at him. James had never wanted the title, but he’d grown into the duties and was making a fine duke. Sadness filled her heart when she thought of how he’d ended up with the dukedom. Edward had to die for James to become the Duke of Weston. Rosanna hadn’t agreed with a lot of Edward’s decisions, but she missed him every day. It hurt a little to look at James, knowing his twin would never walk into a room and speak to any of them again. She’d never quite gotten over his sudden death. The mourning period hadn’t been long enough, and she’d not wanted to enter society again. She’d done so because she hated to be a burden to James. He had his own family now, and she should seek her own out.
The truth was none of the men who’d courted her made her feel even an inkling of what Lord Seabrook did. She was forever comparing them, most of the time unwittingly. The blasted man had marked her somehow, and she’d have to do whatever she could to forget him. The next season she’d find a man to marry and disregard the unwanted feelings she had for the marquess.
James spun on his heels and left her alone with Lord Seabrook. She was rather surprised to find him still standing beside her. “You’re not going with James?”
“No,” he shook his head. “I’m rather weary from my journey. I will visit with him in length later.”
She was irked and didn’t quite know why. “Then I’d hate to tax you further. I’ll take your leave.” Rosanna curtsied quickly and turned to leave.
“Don’t go,” he said quietly. “I’d hoped to speak with you.”
As far as Rosanna was concerned they’d said all they needed to each other years ago. There was nothing he could possibly tell her that she’d want to hear. “I’m afraid I don’t have the time, my lord, perhaps later, if you’re still here.”
“I’m not going anywhere, Rosa,” he said firmly. “Don’t think you can push me away with your stiff formality. I remember when you used to call me Dom.”
“I like to think I learn from my mistakes.” She turned her nose up at him. “Formality is all I can offer you.”
Why wouldn’t he let her leave with a shred of dignity? He had to push and push until she burst out in anger. He was the one person who could do that to her. It was as if he had a finger on the pulse to every ounce of the anger brewing inside of her.
He stepped closer and gazed down at her. His gray eyes were as stormy as a rain cloud about to unleash lightning from the sky. It did something to her insides she couldn’t explain. What was he doing to her? She did the only thing she could do—she turned away from him and went back in the library. Distance was the one thing guaranteed to put her back on firm ground. He’d always been able to make her feel more than she wanted. Why had she thought it would be different now? The years away from him hadn’t changed anything.
“Running away, are you?” he said mockingly. “I thought you were braver than that.”
She turned and said vehemently, “What do you want from me?” Rosanna stomped forward and stopped directly in front of him. “I don’t owe you anything, Lord Seabrook. You’re nothing to me.”
Wrong, oh so wrong. It was a mistake, and she was fully aware of it as soon as the words spilled from her mouth. She’d challenged him when she’d wanted to push him away. He would take her words and make her regret ever uttering them.
“You’re mistaken,” he said quietly. “I’ll prove it to you.”
What game was he playing now? He’d never shown any interest in her, and in fact, had expressed precisely the opposite. The rogue was toying with her emotions and she couldn’t allow it. “Don’t waste your breath.” She attempted to step back but wasn’t fast enough. He circled his hand around her wrist and pulled her forward. She landed against his chest. “What are you doing?”
“Demonstrating how erroneous your conclusion is.”
She didn’t need this or him. Why was he so upset? He’d been the one who’d said he’d never marry and she’d be his last choice if he ever did. Why was he mad now that she’d accepted it?
“I’d rather you didn’t.” She tilted her face up to gaze into his eyes. “Do I need to remind you I’m not one of your light skirts?”
She remembered the first time she’d said that to him. That had been when he’d scathingly said those hurtful words to her—“last lady I’d ever consider marrying...” She didn’t need a repeat of that fateful night.
“Trust me,” he said hoarsely. “I know exactly who you are.”
With those words, he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. She thought she’d felt heat before, but nothing compared to his kiss. How had she lived as long as she had and never felt anything so... There were no words apt enough to describe the rush of need spreading through her. He made her want things she’d suppressed a long time ago.
Damn him...
She yanked herself away from him and stepped back. With every ounce of dignity she had, she glared at him and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Don’t ever kiss me again.”
Then she grabbed her book and left the library without glancing back once—no matter how much she wanted to. He wasn’t for her, and she’d made herself accept that. How dare he make her want him again. Rosanna wouldn’t fall back into that trap for a second time. She was made of sterner stuff and had learned her lesson the hard way. Lord Seabrook was a charmer and not the marrying kind. He’d keep his hands to himself or she’d make him regret the day he played her the fool.
CHAPTER THREE
Restlessness had Dom escaping the manor in search of some much needed exercise. He’d been residing in his friend’s country home for three days and he’d not managed to discover anything of importance to report to the Duke of Branterberry. At this rate, he’d never finish the assignment and move on with his life. He’d been tired of the game of espionage for so long he couldn’t remember when he had actually found anything exciting about it.
The days of thrill-seeking were over for him. He longed for peace and quiet. In order to settle down and enjoy anything resembling that, he had to find out who on James’s estate was working against the crown. Traitorous actions would not be tolerated. Napoleon had to remain on St. Helena. His supporters could not find a way to release him and start another bloody war.
His other mission—to woo and win Rosanna—had stalled. The dark-haired beauty managed to avoid him with practiced ease. He had no idea how she spent her days or where to locate her in the huge mausoleum that was Weston Manor. The first place he thought to seek her out was the library. She’d not once been in the room when he entered it. Either she decided to forego reading while he was around, or she’d ascertained his movements to ensure she never crossed paths with him. He wasn’t sure what to make of her continued avoidance of his company. Dom had managed to push her away far more than he’d realized. Winning her hand would be a task far greater than he’d anticipated.
He kicked a small pebble in his path and let out an exasperated breath. What would he have to do to convince her to be his? She was the only woman he’d ever wanted. He could have had her years ago if he wasn’t so embroiled in the state of the country. James had enlisted in a cavalry unit to serve his country, and Dom had taken to the shadows and worked undercover. The duke carried scars and could talk openly if he chose about his demons. Sometimes Dom envied him that luxury. He couldn’t say one word about what he’d done to aid in the war effort. He’d put his life on hold, continued to do so, to ensure those around him had the opportunity to enjoy the comforts of home without unwarranted fear.
Dom walked aimlessly.
He was almost to the edge of the cliff before he realized where his random steps had taken him. At the edge, he spotted a dark-haired woman with a billowy lavender dress. A smile formed on his face when he realized who stood in front of him. He’d managed to locate Rosanna, and he fully intended to take advantage of his good fortune. He strolled over and stopped directly behind her.
“Thinking of taking a leap?”
Rosanna turned and glared at him. “Don’t be an idiot. Of course not.”
Dom stared over her shoulder and down to the bottom of the cliff. They were rather high up. He’d never been afraid of heights—that didn’t mean he couldn’t have a healthy appreciation for them. It would be rather...unpleasant to slip and fall. “What has you standing on the edge looking so forlorn?”
“Why do you care?” Her violet eyes blazed with unrepressed animosity. “Please, my lord, go find someone else to bother.”
He missed hearing her say his name. It had been one of the few pleasures he’d had in his life. Now that he no longer had it... It was unbearable. “What do I have to do for you to call me Dom again?”
She turned to him and frowned. “Nothing you could do would ever entice me to be on familiar terms with you.”
Dom wanted to disagree. They would be on more than familiar terms—they’d be intimate in every way one day. He had to find a way to destroy the wall she’d built up around herself. The Rosanna he’d come to know was behind it somewhere. It was a matter of time, but he’d find her again.
He gave her a lopsided grin. “We’ll see.” She ignored him and turned to look across the expanse of water in front of the cliffs. “What has you so fascinated?”
She sighed. “If I tell you, will you leave me in peace?”
Probably not, but she didn’t need to know that. He was grateful she was talking to him. After three days of nothing he’d take anything. There were plenty of individuals willing to talk to him. Rosanna was the one he’d wanted to be around. “Yes,” he agreed.
“Do you know Alys’s story?”
He didn’t know much. James hadn’t told him how she’d come to be at Weston Manor or how they’d become acquainted. To be fair, Dom hadn’t really asked. He’d more or less questioned James’s sudden desire to wed at all. He’d assumed Alys must be pretty special to catch his friend’s eye. He’d realized she was a brilliant doctor by watching her take care of James after he’d been shot. Dom often wondered what man would have willingly trained a woman. It wasn’t a skill for those faint of heart. He was enormously grateful she’d had the ability to take care of him. Otherwise, his friend might not have lived to see another day.
“No,” he replied. “I’m not familiar with it.”
She tilted her head and studied him. He didn’t know what she saw on his face, but after a few moments she nodded. “I’m not certain what James would want me to discuss. Perhaps I shouldn’t tell you.”
Dom’s curiosity was piqued. He couldn’t let her drop it now that she’d started to tell him. Besides, he loved to listen to her lilting voice. It was as beautiful as she was. “Don’t stop now. I want to know more. Surely there is something you can tell me. I’m sure if I asked James he’d tell me. I’ve never seen any reason to do so before.”
Which was the truth. If James had felt like sharing, he would have. Dom didn’t dig if he had no reason to. He had a lot of battles to pick through, and the secret of his friend’s wife hadn’t been one of them.
“Alys is special.”
Dom had to refrain from rolling his eyes. What was so bloody special about her? He was aware James thought so, but it was rather odd Rosanna did as well. He personally didn’t see it. She’s a lovely woman and rather nice, but she wasn’t the one he believed to be extraordinary. Rosanna was far more astonishing and brilliant in his mind. He didn’t say that aloud though. She’d glare at him and stomp away. “Tell me how exceptional the duchess is.”
Rosanna glanced away from him and kept her focus on the blue expanse of water flowing below the cliff. “She isn’t exceptional. Alys came to James in a way that is.”
What an odd choice of words. How was he supposed to respond to that? “I’m not following your reasoning.”
“I didn’t expect you would,” Rosanna replied. “Alys isn’t from here.”
He knew that. She was one of those bloody upstarts. “I know she’s an American.”
Rosanna’s mouth twitched. “You don’t sound as if you like them much.”
He shrugged. “I don’t have an opinion one way or the other. I don’t fully understand why they’d have wanted to become a separate nation, but that is before my time.”
She nodded. “Alys explained it to me once. She said to think of it in terms of marriage. When one of the two parties fails the other, shouldn’t the injured party have the opportunity to break away? Why should they remain joined when one of them is hurting the other?” She shrugged. “Divorce is rare, so I still had trouble understanding it. Apparently, divorce is common in her time.” Her hand flew to her mouth as a gasp slipped past her lips.
Dom stared at her and frowned. Did she say what he thought she did? His eyebrow quirked upward. “Her time?”
“I’ve said too much,” she said. “I should go back inside now.”
She brushed past him and started to head back to Weston Manor. He reached out and clasped his hand around her wrist. Rosanna stopped and turned toward him. “Release me.”
Never. He didn’t say that aloud. She’d run scared if she knew how much he desired her. “Please explain your slip.”
“Ask James.”
Dom didn’t want to discuss it with his friend. He would much rather hear it from Rosanna. If only to have a reason to talk to her; otherwise, he didn’t care much. He was curious, yes, but not enough to dig deeper. Rosanna didn’t need to know that though.
“I could,” he started. “But then I’d have to tell him you were teetering on the edge of the cliffs.” Dom grinned at her wickedly. “You know how much he loves to yell at you for going places he believes unsafe.”
“Drat,” she swore. “Why must you be so vexing?”
He shrugged. “It’s part of my charm.”
“What charm?” She snorted. “I’ve not been privy to its existence.”
He leaned in closer. “We could rectify that.”
One word from her and he’d pull her into his arms and make another go at a kiss. The last one hadn’t been nearly as satisfying. When she’d wiped her hand across her mouth it had been the equivalent of a slap in the face. The vixen had known it too. She’d hurt him with the action and had meant to. It was her way of keeping her wall fully intact. Dom didn’t give up that easily though. She’d realize it soon enough.
“You’ll forgive me if I don’t agree to your proposal.” She wiped her hands on her lavender skirt. “I’ve too much respect for myself to throw myself at you.”
“A pity.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “It would’ve been rather pleasurable.” He almost groaned at the images that plastered themselves to his mind. Dom wanted to unwrap her and see if she was as lovely everywhere as he’d imagined. One day, he promised himself.
“I’m not a diversion for you, my lord.” She narrowed her eyes in displeasure. “Find someone else to find sport with.”
Her cheeks blushed a pretty pink. For a brief moment, he wondered if she’d turn that lovely rosy color all over when she was deep in the throes of passion. “Rosa, sweetheart, no one else will do. Do be a dear and tell me what I want to know. This stalling tactic you’ve taken isn’t working—even if it is rather enjoyable.” Perhaps her nipples would be the color of ripe cherries... Dom was close to salivating over the images in his mind. He had to stop his line of thought before he lost all control.
“Why—I...” she stumbled over the words.
Damn, she was exquisite. “You were telling me about Alys.”
She shook her head and frowned. “You’re not going to leave this be, are you?”
“I’m afraid no
t.” Especially if it continued to give him a reason to speak with her. This little discovery was the best thing to happen to him in a long time.
“Fine,” she acquiesced. “But you must promise not to repeat any of it.”
He nodded. “Cross my heart,” he gestured his finger over his chest, “I’ll not breathe one word of it to anyone alive or dead.”
The muscle in her jaw tightened. “Alys is from the future.”
He couldn’t have heard her correctly. “Come again?” Was that what she’d meant about her time? “Who told you this nonsense?”
“It’s the truth,” she exclaimed. “I should have known you’d not believe it.”
Why would he? It was complete and utter nonsense. “Does James believe this twaddle?”
She rolled her eyes. “Yes, because it is the truth. It’s why Alys knows so much about healing and she talks funny sometimes.” She sighed. “I don’t expect you to believe me. But the cliffs are what brought her here. She fell off them and somehow landed on the beach below—still alive. She says she’s from the year 2015 and had been attending her sister’s wedding the day she fell. James found her on the beach the day he returned home.”
All of it had to be lies. Dom didn’t believe it was possible for someone to travel through time and wasn’t about to start now. What he took from that tirade was Rosanna believed it, and that was all that mattered. “Please tell me you’re not thinking of throwing yourself off this cliff in the hopes of traveling through time.” Fear clenched deep inside his gut. He couldn’t let her attempt it—if she died, he would never be the same.
“I believe I already told you I wasn’t going to do any such thing.” She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. When she opened them, her gaze was filled with disappointment. Her mouth turned downward and then she said, “It’s a good thing you don’t believe me. Forget I ever said anything.”
Rosanna brushed past him and headed toward Weston Manor. He watched closely until she reached the entrance and went inside. That had to be the strangest conversation he’d ever had with her. Perhaps he would ask James about how Alys came to be at Weston Manor after all.