He was waiting for me in his room, and I stopped by my own bedroom to brush out my hair and put on a clean nightdress. I walked to his room, my heart pounding in my chest as if this was the first time I was going there. I’d slept with him for the better part of six months, but this time was different. I felt very shy as I turned the doorknob and walked in.
Alec was standing by the window, looking out into the darkness of the April night. His back was turned to me, and he was wearing just his breeches and a shirt. He reminded me of Finn, and I admonished myself for thinking of Finlay as soon as I walked into the room. Tonight he had to stay outside where he belonged. This night was for me an Alec, and I wouldn’t let him spoil it. Alec turned around, smiling at me shyly. He poured me a glass of brandy and took one for himself, never taking his eyes off me as he drank it. I was trembling with nerves and desire for him, and waited for him to come to me.
I saw his eyes travel to my breasts and suddenly I felt embarrassed since my nightdress was soaked with milk, leaving ugly wet stains on my breasts. I raised my hands to cover myself, but Alec put down his glass and came forward. He gently removed my hands, pushing the nightgown to my waist, exposing my leaking breasts. He sat me down in a chair and got down on his knees in front of me, taking my breast into his mouth and sucking the milk. His lips felt warm and demanding on my nipple, a wave of pleasure rolling through me at the hot pressure of his mouth. I moaned and arched my back, pushing the breast deeper into his mouth. Alec pulled away and paid homage to the other breast, until I wasn’t leaking anymore.
He lifted me out of the chair and laid me down on the bed, pulling off his shirt and taking off his breeks. I’d never actually seen him naked, and I sucked in my breath at the sight of him. He was tall and lean, with dark hair covering his chest and long legs. His cock stood up like a flagpole, and I decided to return the favor he had just bestowed on me. I got out of bed and slid to my knees in front of him, taking him into my mouth and grabbing his buttocks with my hands to pull him closer. He filled my mouth completely, and I ran my tongue along the length of him making him shudder with desire. He buried his hands in my hair and pushed himself deeper into my mouth, breathing hard with pleasure. Suddenly, he pulled away and lifted me off the floor, laying me on the bed and getting on top of me, my legs thrown over his shoulders. I gasped as our bodies came together, and all thoughts of Finn the Elder, and Finn the Younger, vanished from my brain as Alec single-mindedly pounded me into oblivion.
All our pent-up frustration found release, and my body quivered uncontrollably as Alec finally collapsed on top of me, his face damp with perspiration. He was shaking as well, and I wrapped my arms around him, still joined to him in the aftermath of our love. “I am sorry,” he whispered. “I did not mean to be so rough. I just couldn’t hold it back any longer.” He looked up at me guiltily.
“I’m not sorry,” I whispered back. “You can be as rough as you want. I like it.” That seemed to be the right thing to say because I felt him growing hard again inside me and he flipped me over, making me straddle him, ready for another round. I could feel milk on my breasts again, but I didn’t care. I rode Alec as if my life depended on it, wondering how I could have resisted this for so long. I threw my head back as I reached a shuddering climax, calling out his name and letting him know once and for all, I wanted him for himself and not as a substitute for his brother.
Chapter 47
By the time I woke up the next morning, I was lying in a wet patch of milk, and I was so sore between my legs that I winced as I rose from the bed, going to fetch my son. As I settled into my nursing chair with the baby’s soft mouth attached to my nipple, I closed my eyes and thought of the night before, squeezing my legs to relieve the soreness. I was taken by surprise by the orgasm that shook me to the core, and looked down at Finn to see if he felt anything. The baby continued to suck happily, and I closed my eyes again, smiling to myself and relishing this wonderful feeling.
“Someone must have shown you a good time last night, Mistress Whitfield. I have not seen a smile like that in a long time.” Alec stood in the doorway, looking down on me and Finn, the grin on his face worth everything. The misery of the last few months fell away, and I smiled back at him, blowing him a kiss. I could see the joy in his eyes and I felt the worry dissolve. I knew that he would be thinking of Finlay and wondering if I was comparing him to his brother. What man wouldn’t? I thought I proved to him last night that I loved him and him alone, and he believed me. Our life together had officially begun.
Chapter 48
I looked over at Alec’s sleeping form. He looked so tired that I didn’t have the heart to wake him. I knew he didn’t come to bed until the early hours of the morning, and I was worried about him. Our relationship had grown and changed since the wedding, going from a warm friendship to full-blown love. Alec had waited for a long time for me, and now he was enjoying all the benefits of having me to himself. He was even lustier than Finn had ever been, if that was possible, but I suppose that came from years of denying himself. Everything would have been good if it wasn’t for the repercussions of Finlay’s treachery, which Alec was just beginning to feel now.
The shipping season had begun, and suddenly Alec faced the full force of people’s hatred. The Gunpowder Plot perpetrators have become people to revile, and blame for everything that was wrong in the country, even if it had nothing to do with Catholicism. People were not happy, and they needed someone to blame. Catholics were a good target as usual. Some of Alec’s customers knew he was a Catholic, and all of them knew he was Finlay’s brother. Already Lord Weston and several other big clients had withdrawn their custom, and the rest were sure to follow.
The Morning Star and Misty Dawn had departed; their cargo holds half-empty, and Alec would have to find a way to dispose of the goods from the plantation, once the ships came back across the Atlantic. I knew he was worried and scared. People weren’t likely to forget any time soon that the man they’d done business with, had plotted to kill the King and blow up numerous innocent people in the process. Alec might not have been personally involved with the plot, but he might as well have placed the kegs in the cellar and lit the fuse, for all they cared.
He was shunned and ridiculed, and although he never got into a fight with anyone physically, the bruises on his heart were there for me to see. He didn’t just feel bad for himself; he hated hearing what people said about his brother, misguided though he might have been. I had realized that the reason he chose to bury Finn by the Abbey, was partially because he didn’t want anyone to desecrate his grave. People had cheered when Guy Fawkes was executed, and there were rumors from London that they burned his effigy to celebrate his death. Now that I knew what happened I remembered learning about Guy Fawkes Day at school. Alec would be shocked to know that in my day people in England still celebrated November 5th the day when the plot was foiled and burned the effigy of the unfortunate Guy Fawkes. I vaguely remembered the words of the song:
Remember remember the fifth of November
Gunpowder, treason and plot.
I see no reason why gunpowder, treason
Should ever be forgot...
Thinking of the future brought me to another problem. I knew I didn’t have to tell anyone where I came from, but I hated keeping things from Alec. I’d been planning to tell Finlay eventually, but never got the chance, and now I needed to tell Alec. He’d been true to his word and never asked me any prying questions, but I knew that deep inside, he wondered about my past and wanted to know about my life before Castle Yealm. No person appeared out of nowhere, and he knew there must be someone out there to whom I belonged before meeting him and Finn. Now that I was his wife, he felt a deeper curiosity about my life, and I thought Finn might have mentioned to him that I had been married before. Should I tell him? He might think I was crazy, and never believe anything I said again.
On the other hand I felt like I needed to share that part of my life with him. If Alec loved me the way I thought
he did, he would at least hear me out and try to accept what I was telling him. I kept looking for the right moment to bring it up, but one did not present itself and now with all the business problems, I wasn’t sure this was the best time to burden Alec with the knowledge that his wife had dropped in out of the twenty-first century.
I was so caught up in my thoughts that I hadn’t realized Alec had woken and was watching me. “I cannot even hazard a guess as to what you are thinking about. I can practically see smoke coming out of your ears. Care to share it with your husband?” He rolled onto his side, raising himself on one elbow and watching me. It was now or never, so I let it rip.
“Alec,” I began, then stopped and took a deep breath. “Alec, there’s something I need to tell you, something you must know. It’s important.”
“Is it about your life before you came to us?” I saw a worried look cross his face, and I nodded.
“I need to be honest, and I hope you will at least hear me out,” I was getting really nervous now and I wished I had kept quiet. His face looked more and more concerned as he watched me.
“Valerie, I know you were married before Finn, if that iss what you are trying to tell me. It’s all right. He is dead, right?” His eyes begged me to say “yes” and I took another breath, plunging in.
“Actually, he hasn’t even been born yet. I wasn’t accosted on the road or ran away from home as Finn said you suspected. I came from the future, twenty-first century to be exact.” I looked at him, fearing his reaction. Alec was strangely quiet, just watching me with those feline eyes of his, listening. “Go on.”
“I was on vacation with my sister, Louisa, trying to recover from my divorce,” I began.
“Divorce?!” Right, Catholics in this age didn’t get divorced.
“Don’t worry; my first husband will not be born for almost four hundred years, so technically I am not divorced.”
“Well, that’s a relief. Please continue.” He didn’t seem angry, just withdrawn somehow, and I was sorry I ever opened my mouth.
“Anyway, I was on vacation with my sister. She was working during the day, appraising an art collection at this old manor house in Compton. I was alone, and I walked into a shop looking for a gift for my parents. I didn’t find anything, but there was this clock on the shelf that drew my eye. It was an ormolu clock with a cupid sitting on top. It was working, but set to the wrong time; I lifted it off the shelf and turned the hands of the clock to the right time, which was 4:05, or 16:05. A few moments later, I came to in the meadow at the bottom of the hill, having no idea what had happened to me. I’d never been so confused and scared in my life. You and Finlay saved my life,” I finished lamely watching Alec’s face.
I could see the thoughts racing behind his eyes, but he remained quiet, just looking at me and trying to work something out in his head. What was he thinking? Was he trying to figure out how to get rid of me now that he knew I was mad? I should have known this would be too much for him to take in. After all, people didn’t routinely drop in from the future and live to tell about it.
“Alec?” I whispered, “Say something.”
Suddenly, Alec’s eyes lit up like he was a little kid who just got the best present he could have hoped for at Christmas. He smiled down at me and asked me the question I expected least of all at that moment. “Did you have a car?”
Chapter 49
Present Day
It took Louisa a while before she could bring herself to go back into the storage room and look at the portrait again. She made excuse after excuse, unable to face her sister’s smiling face. Based on the name, there could be no doubt that the woman in the portrait was Valerie, but how was it possible for her to be painted in 1608 by Joseph Blackburn? No logical explanation could be found, and Lou obsessed over it twenty-four-hours a day until her brain felt as if it was consumed by a raging fever. She didn’t say anything to her parents. They were finally learning to accept that their daughter wasn’t coming back, and to spring this on them out of the blue, would be enough to kill them. Louisa had to figure this out on her own. She chose a moment when Billie was out to lunch, and braced herself for another trip to the storage room.
She pulled the sheet off the canvas, feeling a jolt as Valerie’s face came into view. At least she looks happy, Lou thought as she examined the painting closely. There was no doubt that the canvas was from the seventeenth century. The frame was scratched and chipped, the paint flaking in places, and grime covered the surface like a dusting of snow; but her sister’s violet eyes were clear and her gaze direct, looking straight into Louisa’s heart. She stepped back and took another look. Was there anything that gave a clue to Valerie’s disappearance? Her dress was clearly from another age, but it was beautiful and probably very expensive. The pearls in her hair and the necklace at her throat also spoke of wealth, and the background of the portrait was a well-appointed drawing room of some sort.
Valerie’s white hand lay casually on the armrest of her chair. It stood next to a small table with spindly legs, holding an ormolu clock with a fat cupid perched on top, holding his bow and arrows. Something niggled at Louisa’s memory, but she couldn’t quite grasp it, so she continued to look. Valerie was wearing a large cabochon ring on her ring finger, and according to the name on the portrait she was married to someone named Whitfield. Who was he, and how did they wind up in America? Would there be anything online?
Lou went back to her desk and plugged in the name Whitfield, 1600s. Several articles relating to the Gunpowder Treason Plot in 1605 popped up, so she opened the first one beginning to read. There was a lot of background information about the grievances of Catholics against James I, and their attempt to kill him and blow up Parliament as the session opened on November 5th of that year. She scanned the article looking for the name. There it was toward the bottom. Finlay Whitfield was one of the conspirators who was arrested and tortured while being held at the Tower of London. He died before his execution.
It can’t possibly be the same Whitfield, Louisa thought. The portrait was painted in 1608 in America, three years after this Whitfield died in prison. It was a common enough name. She looked through the other articles, but it was more of the same. Louisa gave up and went back to the room, picking up the inventory sheet as she went. She pulled the sheet off the next painting. It was a portrait of children, a boy of about five and a girl of three or so. The little girl sat in a large chair wearing a lacy frock, her light-brown hair framing her round face, dominated by a pair of huge eyes the color of amber. The boy stood next to the chair, holding the hand of his little sister. Louisa knew even before she looked at the name that the children were Valerie’s. The little girl looked just like her when she was that age, except for the eye color, and the little boy had eyes of startling green, but resembled Valerie in other ways. She looked at the name: “Finlay and Louisa Whitfield, 1611, Oil on Canvas.” This time she was prepared and didn’t faint.
She ran back to the computer. What was the name of that traitor? It was Finlay, wasn’t it? Good God, it must have been the right person. She read the article again. Sure enough, the man’s name was Finlay Whitfield, so he must have been the boy’s father, but what about the girl? She was too young to be his daughter if he died in 1605, but the name listed was Valerie Whitfield. Did Valerie remarry and if she did, wouldn’t her name have changed to that of her husband? Louisa suddenly sat back in her chair. Look at me, she thought, here I am wondering about my sister’s love life in the seventeenth century when my mind can’t even comprehend the fact of how she got there.
She rose, and went back to the storage room once more. The portrait of the children stood next to Valerie’s, and she scoured it for any clues she had missed. They seemed to have been painted in the same room, and just behind the boy was the little table with the cupid clock. Suddenly, something clicked into place. Of course, she’d seen that clock before. It had been at the antique shop where Valerie was last seen. She’d noticed it standing on the high shelf above the lit
tle shepherdess that Valerie was supposedly looking at right before she vanished. It was probably just a coincidence. Cupid was very popular in those days.
Louisa unveiled the third canvas, but it was a landscape of a pastoral scene, with fat cows chewing their cud and a boy fast asleep in a haystack. She turned away from it looking back at the paintings. In both paintings, the clock was set to exactly the same time, 8:10. What did that mean? It could’ve been broken, but then why include it in the scene? Were they so fond of Cupid? 8:10, 20:10. Louisa sighed and went back to her desk feeling more confused then ever.
Chapter 50
May 1606
“Did you have a car?” Alec repeated, as I stared at him dumbfounded. How could he possibly know about cars? I’d lived with him for nearly a year and there was never any indication that he knew about the future, much less that he might be from the future. No, it wasn’t possible and I was just hearing things.
“Valerie? Did you hear me?” He was looking at me with concern now, and I finally found my voice to answer him.
“How do you know about cars? Did you come from the future too?” He laughed and shook his head. “No, sweetheart, I did not come from the future, although I would have loved to have seen it with my own eyes. I have dreamed of driving a car since I was a little boy. I have an idea how to do it, but I have never actually seen one.”
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