“I guess not.” While their prey—Drake—was still here, they probably wouldn’t leave until they’d snared him, hog-tied him, and dragged him to the altar. “Then what shall I do?”
Esme pondered for a moment, then said cryptically, “I can’t interfere too much—I’ve done too much as it is. But I might be able to convince the Major to let you stay if I could promise him you would avoid the Biddles and Harringtons.”
Hope surged through Gina, then just as quickly vanished. “No, I can’t. My task is to save Drake’s life, and they’re always hanging around him.” She turned a hopeful glance on Esme. “Any other ideas?”
“Not at the moment, but I’m sure something will come up,” she said with calm certainty. “It always does.”
Esme sounded like a perky Pollyanna, but Gina didn’t share her confidence. “Well, until it does, where shall I stay?”
“I don’t suppose you’ve made any friends in the area?”
“How could I? I’ve spent all my time here, either working for you or working on Drake. My only friends are hotel employees—and they can’t exactly hide me in their rooms without the Major finding out.” She paused, searching through her options. “Except maybe for Sean Quinn.” The kindly old stablemaster lived in rooms next to the horses, and she’d rarely seen the Major out there. “Do you think he’d put me up?”
“Perhaps,” Esme conceded. “Yes, that might do until we can find a better solution.”
Scruffy licked her hand and Gina squeezed him gratefully. Things didn’t look so bad now, not if she had the possibility of someplace to stay. But another thought struck her, bringing her down again. “What if I can’t get near Drake to save his life? Does that mean I’m stuck back here in the past?”
“Not necessarily,” Esme said, looking evasive.
No? “But you said . . .” Gina paused, thinking. Had Esme ever actually said she had to save Drake’s life to leave? She couldn’t remember, though the woman had certainly implied it. It was probably those darned semantics again. She fixed Esme with a glare. “What do you mean? Can I go back home? Even if I don’t save Drake?”
“Well, yes,” Esme admitted, though she managed to pack quite a bit of disapproval into those two small words.
“How?”
Reluctantly, Esme explained, “The same events that brought you to the past can take you back to the future.”
Back to the future? A vision of Michael J. Fox riding to the rescue in a time-traveling DeLorean flashed through Gina’s mind, but she shook her head. That was only a movie. “I know you said I can go back on the solstice, but how?” Remembering how Esme had parceled out her information in little bits and pieces, Gina figured she’d better be more specific. “What exactly do I have to do?”
“That depends. What triggered your time travel in the first place?”
“I don’t know. One minute I was kneeling in the ruins next to a ghost, and the next, you were there in his place.”
“There must have been something,” Esme insisted. “What were you doing at the time? What were you touching?”
Gina thought back. They had approached the ruins and she’d found something. . . . “A chest,” she said aloud. “I was rummaging in an old hope chest.” That’s right, how could she forget that lovely chest? “It was beautifully carved . . . and it had some initials. Let’s see, they were—” She broke off and turned to Esme in surprise. “They were your initials, weren’t they?”
When Esme regarded her with a serene expression, Gina reacted with disgust. “That was your hope chest. That’s what did it—you did it.”
“It wasn’t the hope chest,” Esme said calmly, but Gina noticed she didn’t answer her accusation, either. “There was something inside the chest that drew you back—something that had significance only to you. What was it?”
“Don’t you know?”
Esme merely regarded her with that infuriatingly serene expression that revealed nothing. “The question is, do you?”
Gina sighed, knowing she’d get nothing more out of her. “Just a bunch of junk.” Nothing that held any significance. Wait . . . she remembered sorting through it, then finding something interesting. That was it. “The pistol. I found a melted dueling pistol.” Funny, she hadn’t remembered that until this moment.
“And what happened when you touched it?”
That was when she’d turned dizzy. “That’s it—the pistol sent me back in time.” She turned to Esme in excitement. “You mean all I have to do is find the pistol in this time and it will send me back home?”
“Yes,” the housekeeper said with obvious reluctance, “but only if you have it in your hands on the next solstice.”
Darn—she still had to wait a few more months. And she had to find the pistol first. “Okay, where is it? In your hope chest?”
“Not yet.”
Not yet? What the heck did that mean? “Then where is it?”
“I don’t know.”
Gina regarded her in disbelief.
“I really don’t,” Esme said with a small smile. “I know it will eventually end up in my hope chest, but I don’t know where it is at this point in time. That’s something you’ll have to learn on your own.”
Gina had remembered something else as well. “Drake—his ghost, I mean—had an attraction to that pistol, too. Do you think it’s his?”
“Perhaps,” Esme said with the vagueness Gina had come to expect of her. “Or perhaps there’s another reason his ghost recognized it.”
Too impatient to decipher cryptic messages right now, Gina decided to clarify what she did know. “So if I hold the pistol on the solstice, I’ll go back to my own time . . . whether I’ve saved Drake or not?”
“Yes, but is that really your intention? To let him die?”
“Of course not, not if I can prevent it.” She couldn’t abandon him to that—she’d come to care for him too much. “But what can I do now that the Major has kicked me out of the hotel?” Even more important, how was she going to find that blasted pistol?
Before Esme could answer, another knock came at the door. Bridget O’Riley stuck her head in the door and said cheerily, “The Major wants you, Gina.”
Gina frowned. He probably just wanted to make sure she was gone. But if he was kicking her out, she certainly didn’t need to stick around for a dressing-down. “Forget it—I’m not going.”
But Esme stood and smoothed her dress, saying, “Come. This may be the opportunity we need.”
Gina wasn’t holding out any hopes, but the housekeeper had an air of calm certainty about her and Gina couldn’t deny that some strange things had happened around Esme. Maybe something could be done. And if Gina were able to stay here, it was certainly better than sleeping in the stables.
“What about Scruffy?” She didn’t want to risk the Major’s continued wrath by taking the dog to his office, but she didn’t want to leave Scruffy here, either. Her two hours were about up, and for all she knew they’d lock the door on her.
“I’ll watch him for you,” Bridget offered.
Scruffy liked Bridget, so Gina agreed. Leaving the dog with her friend, Gina reluctantly followed Esme to the hotel manager’s office.
At their entrance, the Major stood, holding himself stiffly. He harrumphed, then said awkwardly, “Miss Charles, it seems I owe you an apology.”
That was the last thing she’d expected to hear. “You do?”
“Yes, Mr. Manton explained the entire situation.”
“He did?” Gina felt silly at being able to do nothing but ask stupid questions, but she didn’t know what else to say. She thought about demanding more information, but a small shake of Esme’s head reminded her this probably wasn’t the best time.
“Yes,” the Major confirmed. “Mr. Manton explained how you’ve been helping him to improve his lectures, and on your own time at that.”
She hadn’t quite helped him yet, but she wasn’t going to argue with the Major.
“He has apologized for
taking advantage of your extra time, and is quite willing to recompense The Chesterfield for the future use of your services.” He harrumphed again and smoothed his mustache with one finger. “Quite generously, I might add.”
Gina wondered how Drake had explained away the compromising position they’d been found in, but decided mentioning it now would be a really dumb move.
“What are you trying to say?” Esme asked delicately.
Yeah—Gina sure wished he’d get to the point.
The Major clasped his hands behind his back and bounced on the balls of his feet. “Under the circumstances, I am reinstating Miss Charles, but not in her former position.”
Okay, that didn’t sound too bad. “So what do I have to do?” Gina asked. “Rat on the rat catcher? Muck out the stables? Kiss Sasha’s feet?”
The Major scowled. “That won’t be necessary. You will be assigned to Mr. Manton, as his personal secretary and general factotum, to assist him with his lectures.”
Gina inhaled sharply. She couldn’t believe it—she was to be given the one job she really wanted and needed above all others. She exchanged a half incredulous, half triumphant glance with Esme then turned back to the Major. “Thank you.”
“However, there is one stipulation.”
“What?” Gina asked, figuring she could agree to just about anything.
“The hotel will not tolerate any suggestion of impropriety in its employees. Therefore, you must be chaperoned at all times when you are with Mr. Manton.”
“Chaperoned?” Her elation dissipated a little. “By who?” Not the old biddies, please.
“Miss Biddle and Miss Harrington will be with you at all times. Their mothers have been consulted and have already agreed to this arrangement.”
So it was only the young biddies—she could handle them. Beaming, Gina said, “Okay.”
“Remember,” the Major admonished her. “You are to behave in a circumspect manner at all times. Any suggestion of impropriety and you will be out the door—for good this time.”
Gina grinned. “No problem—I can handle that. I’ll be good, I promise.” Well, except maybe for one more teensy-weensy infraction. . . .
About midnight, Drake gave up any further attempt at sleep and got out of bed. The events of the day had been going round and round in his mind. Remembering Gina’s playful seduction, the Major’s abrupt dismissal, and his own championing of her reinstatement was enough to make anyone restless.
Pulling on his dressing gown and lighting a lamp, he figured he might as well read for a bit in hope that would make him drowsy enough to go to sleep.
But he had barely opened his book when a sharp tapping noise interrupted him. Strange . . . it sounded as if it was coming from the window. Surely Gina and Rupert weren’t up to their ghostly antics again? He thrust aside the curtains to see Gina’s face staring at him, this time devoid of ghoulish gore.
He opened the window and let her see his annoyance. “What the devil are you doing here?” She was about to undo everything he had worked so hard to make right today.
“Shh,” she said with a finger to her lips. “Let me in and I’ll explain.”
When he hesitated, she added, “Hurry—I don’t want anyone to see me.”
“It would be worse if they found you in my room.”
“But only if they catch me—they’re far less likely to see me in there than out here, now aren’t they?”
Conceding the point, Drake stood aside while Gina clambered into his room. He forbore offering her assistance, fearing that touching her could only lead to more trouble.
Once inside, she said, “Whew, it’s hot in here,” and took off her dark cloak to reveal only her nightgown beneath.
He regarded her incredulously. “Are you trying to get us both booted out of here?”
“No, of course not. Why would I?”
“Then why are you in my rooms dressed only in your nightwear?” If it had been Chloe Harrington, he might suspect her of devious intent, but this was Gina, and a more open woman he had yet to meet.
She glanced down at the voluminous article of clothing in question. “Well, I had to wait until everyone had gone to sleep to come see you and it was faster than changing clothes,” she said, as if it were the most practical thing in the world. “Besides, this loose thing is a lot less revealing than my uniform—and it is hot in here. What’s wrong with that?”
She made it all sound so reasonable, but it didn’t mitigate the fact that seeing her in her nightwear conjured up images of Gina in bed, her face soft and flushed with desire. Nor did it help that the thin fabric revealed more than it concealed, especially outlined in the window against the moonlight. The curve of her hip, the shapeliness of her legs, and the fullness of her breasts showed clearly . . . not to mention the faint hint of her nipples straining against the material.
As the first stir of arousal made itself known, Drake averted his gaze and realized that arguing with Gina would be futile. Instead, it would be better to hear what she had to say and let her leave. But first, he had to get her out of the silhouetting moonlight.
“If you don’t want anyone to see you, you might want to move away from that window. Come, sit down.”
“Oh—you’re right.” But, eschewing the room’s one chair, she sat down on the bed where the soft radiance of the moon fell on her, washing her face and form with a silvery glow.
Drake almost groaned. It wasn’t an improvement, as his body let him know. Unhampered and free beneath the silk of his dressing gown, his semi-erection flexed into full force. Turning his back, he blew out the lamp and adjusted his clothing, hoping to hide the signs of arousal from her sharp eyes, and pretending he’d snuffed the light to hide her presence from the outside. “So what was so important that you felt it necessary to come calling in the middle of the night?”
“I, uh, wanted to borrow your pistol?” she asked more than answered.
He glanced at her in surprise—that was the last thing he’d expected to hear. “I don’t own a pistol,” he said in puzzlement.
She sighed. “I was afraid of that.”
“Why do you need one?”
“I don’t really. It’s just . . . never mind. It’s not important. What I really wanted was to thank you,” she said softly.
Her soft, gentle tone didn’t belong to the Gina he knew. Surprised, he stared at her more fully. “Thank me? For what?”
“For convincing the Major to let me stay. He told me what you did.”
Drake shifted uncomfortably. “It was the least I could do, after causing your dismissal in the first place.”
She smiled and cocked her head. “But however did you explain our . . . compromising position?”
Did she have to remind him of that? He shrugged as if it were nothing, but the truth was, he had had to do some fast talking to convince the Major their actions were aboveboard. “I merely explained that we were experimenting with a mesmerism technique.”
“One that had the patient practically in your lap?” she asked with a grin. “How’d you do that?”
He smiled back and assumed a haughty expression. “With a lofty air and a rather wordy and lengthy scientific dissertation on the efficacy of proximity to manipulate the patient’s mesmeric fields.” He just hoped the Major didn’t try to look up any of the words he’d created for the occasion.
She laughed. “See, I knew you had it in you—you’re a born carny.”
“I beg your pardon?” What was a carny? And did he really want to know?
“Never mind. The point is, I just wanted to thank you, and since we’re going to be chaperoned from now on, I knew this would be my only chance to do so.”
“You’re welcome. But perhaps you should go now before someone hears our voices and sends the Major to investigate.” And before the lust she stirred in him threatened to burst free and embarrass them both.
She rose from the bed. “I will, but I have one more question. Why did you do it . . . really?”
/> “I told you, I felt responsible for your dismissal.”
She cocked her head speculatively. “So you lied to the Major, arranged to have me help you with your lectures though you hate the idea, and agreed to have two husband-hungry chaperones at your side at all times . . . just to help me?”
“Well, yes,” he admitted, “but it really wasn’t quite as noble as—”
Before he could finish, Gina was in his arms, hugging him fiercely and kissing his cheek with a fervent smack. “Thank you,” she said. “No one has ever done such a wonderful thing for me. Ever,” she repeated, her eyes shining with tears and gratitude.
“You’re welcome,” he said faintly. He ought to push her away, but the feel of her soft curves against his chest and the adoration in her expression were too much to resist. He found himself pulling her close, wanting to hold her, comfort her . . . love her. “Has no one ever treated you kindly before?” he asked, hoping she wouldn’t notice his turgid erection straining against her thigh.
Laying her head on his shoulder with a sigh, Gina said, “Not lately.”
That simple confession tore at his heart. Gina was so vibrant, so alive, so warmhearted that he was surprised she wasn’t married with six children by now. “Haven’t you anyone to care for you? Parents? A fiancé?”
She brushed moisture from her eyes and looked up at him, lower lip quivering. “No, my father died a few years ago, and my mother . . . well, let’s just say we don’t get along.”
“And the fiancé?” Drake repeated, having to know. “I can’t believe there isn’t a man out there waiting for you, that you aren’t married.”
Her lips twisted in a grimace. “That’s a good one. Oh, I was engaged for awhile, but I found Jerry, my fiancé, in bed with my . . . my best friend.”
No wonder she felt deserted, as if no one had ever done her a kindness. Drawing her close once more for comfort, Drake said, “What did you do?”
“Nothing I could do,” she said into his shoulder. “I just ran away.”
As she had when he had discovered her posing as a ghost. And, he realized, when the Major had dismissed her. “You seem to make a habit of that,” he murmured, and though one corner of his mind screamed that he shouldn’t, he couldn’t help stroking down the clean line of her back. Somehow, he managed to stop at her waist, just above the enticing curve of her buttocks.
[Hope Chest 01.0] Mesmerist Page 10