Escape To Me

by Diane Alberts

  “Why won’t you marry? I’m sure you can find a man willing to court you.” His gaze took in her bare legs, and his penis jerked in his lap. “You’re perfect.”

  Some inner hellion she hadn’t known existed whispered for her to spread her legs a bit more, and she adjusted so he had a full view of her hidden delights. His shoulders tensed, and he clenched his fists.

  “I doubt it. I’m on the shelf. I have been since Katrina married Lord Dum—” With a strangled gasp, she broke off and covered her mouth. When his eyes narrowed on her, she dropped the hem of the shirt back down to her lap, dismayed at what she’d gone and admitted. “That is to say, I’ve been there for quite some time.”

  Maybe he hadn’t noticed the slip of her tongue. There remained a possibility he’d been too distracted by her body to pay attention….

  His face whitened and he stood up. His arm trembling, he pointed at her. “Who are you?”

  Chapter Three

  Eleanor blanched and rolled off the other side of the bed, seeking to put something between herself and the man whose face turned redder with each passing second. His shoulders were held stiff enough he could have been carved out of stone.

  Opening his mouth, he spluttered a few times, and then repeated, “You are…are you...who are you?”

  She decided the best course of action was to act clueless and hope to God her plan worked. If worse came to worst, she had her magical watch hidden away in her purse. With the twist of a few dials, she could disappear in a cloud of smoke, if need be. He’d never figure out who she was.

  “I…what’s wrong?” She lifted her chin, trying to act as if she were confused by his show of temper. Her voice shook a bit, so she cleared her throat. “Was it something I said?”

  “You know very well what’s bothering me. How do you know Lord Dumont?” He removed the condom and tossed it into the rubbish container. Crossing his arms in front of him, his chest rising and falling in rapid succession, he asked, “Who are you?”

  Perhaps, when she returned home, she’d do a watercolor of him, just like this. He somehow managed to look even more unbelievable while unclothed and furious.

  How unfair of him to be so glorious when she was stuck wearing his shapeless blouse. It might have hugged his muscles like a second skin, yet on her it resembled a potato sack. She wracked her mind for the best course of action and settled for pure denial.

  “Oh, him? Henry? He comes into the tavern I work at. He’s a nice bloke.” She smoothed her hair behind her ears, and waved a hand in front of her face. “Do you know him, too?”

  He raised a brow and she cringed. She would do better not to lie to men ever again. If the coffers ever ran dry, she’d have to cross actress off her list of possible employments.

  Which left…governess, seamstress, or mistress.

  “Henry? His name isn’t Henry. It’s George.” He rubbed his chin and watched her. She didn’t even flinch. His name was Ronald.

  Nice try, Thomas.

  “Nope, sorry. The one I know is Henry. We must have gotten the two confused, somehow.” She smiled and played with the hem of the shirt, allowing it to ride up her legs a bit. His gaze dropped, taking in her actions, and he took a step toward her.

  Once again, distraction with body parts equaled success.

  Thomas gave his body a slight shake and returned his attention north again. Pity, that. “Even so, why didn’t you tell me you were a virgin? That could have been a good thing to know.”

  “Why? What difference would it make? These are current times, and as such—”

  “I’m not a modern man, Eleanor.” He pounded his chest and took another step toward her. “I do not make a habit of deflowering innocent girls and marching away.”

  Which is why she’d never tell him who she was. She rolled her eyes. “I assure you, sir, I am far from a girl. I knew what would happen when I walked into this room. And I know what I want. I bought a night of danger-free passion with you. And I’m not finished.” She’d saved up a year of pin money for this night, and she darn well planned to enjoy it, thank you very much. Advancing on him, she lifted the shirt higher. “I want more.”

  “I can’t,” he insisted with a stubborn tilt to his chin. “You might tempt me as no other woman could, but I refuse to defile you any more than I already have. What if you became with child?”

  “You weren’t worried about that happening ten minutes ago!” She let the shirt fall back into place and stomped her foot. “Why would you care now? Besides, that’s what the condom is for, remember?”

  He backed away from her. “I had no clue you were pure. It’s different now.”

  “I’m no longer an innocent. Problem solved.” Eleanor tossed her hair over her shoulders. “You’ve already relieved me of that unwanted purity, and now I want more of what you’ve shown me.”

  “See? I’ve ruined you. I'm despicable.” He sank to the mattress and groaned. “How old are you, again?”

  “Twenty-six. Hardly a debutante.” He froze at the familiar word, once again turning to scrutinize her. She kept her face impartial and soft—cursing her slip of the tongue. How many times would she utter a damning sentence in one night? “You have nothing to fear.”

  “I still can’t touch you again, in all good faith. I never should have in the first place.”

  He crossed his arms across his chest, glowering at her as if she’d somehow wronged him. She knew she had stricken his gentlemanly pride, in turn bringing out the guilt they enjoyed wallowing in.

  Men.

  “Okay, I understand.” Sheer instinct guided her. She smiled at him and then walked away in slow steps. She made sure to swing her bottom in the way that guaranteed a man would follow like a lost puppy. She stopped in the doorway, leaned on the wood, and glanced over her shoulder at his confused face. “It was nice meeting you, Thomas.”

  He stood up, his lips pursed. “Wh-Where are you going?”

  “To find someone else to sully me. As you pointed out, it shouldn’t be hard.” She walked out into the sitting quarters of the hotel room, calling over her shoulder, “I paid for a night of fun…and I shall have it.”

  One. Two. Three.

  Thomas snarled as images of a faceless man rising over Eleanor flashed before him. She writhed in the stranger’s arms, moaning her pleasure for all to hear. Damn it all to hell, enjoying the new man’s attentions even more than she had his. He had no idea when it happened, but she belonged to him. Which sounded insane in and of itself. She lived two hundred years in the future. It wasn’t as if he could court her.

  Wait.

  Had he pictured himself giving suit to this woman? No. He couldn’t be ready for such a step. He’d just lost Suzanne and couldn’t commit to a second marriage. But…maybe she could be his mistress? Could he convince her to travel to his time? To be his kept woman? Could he ask this of her, when he was the one who had ruined her good name in the first place, and not another man?

  Not bloody likely.

  Yet, he didn’t plan to stand by while she walked into the arms of a different man. For tonight, she belonged to him. He stalked across the room and caught up to her. Grabbing her by the shoulders, he backed her against the doorframe.

  Shoving aside recriminations and doubts, he cradled her face and kissed her with the pent up frustration and confusion he’d been feeling since he’d discovered her innocence.

  She’d never lain with anyone but him, and he would make the night memorable. They’d have to move on in a few short hours. But until then, he’d kiss every square inch of her body. Starting with the one spot she’d been taunting him with glimpses of all night. Letting his mouth fall away from hers, he dropped to his knees. He reached up and caressed her thighs, enjoying the play of his fingers on her milky white skin.

  “I’m going to do something shocking, but I promise you, it is commonplace among lovers. Do you trust me?” He made sure to keep his voice husky, willing her to acquiesce to his request. “Can you let me taste you?”<
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  Her face paled, but she nodded before gripping his shoulders. “Yes, I trust you. Just don’t let me fall.”

  He ducked his head to hide his smile. She would require more help standing by the time he finished with her, but he would make sure she didn’t fall.

  Thomas hiked the shirt higher on her waist, and flicked his tongue against her clitoris. Her legs collapsed beneath her, but he’d been prepared for her shock at the sensations. He caught her in his arms and laid her on the plush carpet—unwilling to take even a moment away from their time together to walk her to the bed. He lowered his mouth once more, and she opened to him in readiness for his assault.

  When he licked her again, she strained against him. Cupping her buttocks, he held her still as he lavished attention on her. She tasted of honey, and he savored every last bit she gave to him. Craved more. She tightened around him a little more with each stroke, until she froze, a cry breaking out on her lips. Her body went lax. Letting her down on the carpet, he put a condom on and rose over her, thrusting inside without a moment’s hesitation.

  She raised her hips, taking all he had to give her, and then somehow finding a way to take more. Their pace rose to a crescendo, and he pressed his thumb against her already sensitive nub. When her muscles compressed around him, massaging his cock, he let out a hoarse cry, spilling his seed inside her. He dropped to his elbows, keeping his weight off her. It wouldn’t do to crush the girl. He kissed her damp temple, his arms trembling from the force of his release.

  How could this woman make him act like a randy boy fresh out of Eton, eager to bury himself inside of her immediately after finishing? He’d been in more beds before his marriage than he could count, but with her he was revitalized. Rejuvenated. Alive.

  As if he could start over and live out his happy-ever-after.

  With her.

  She wasn’t gentry, so he couldn’t get away with marrying her, but to hell with marriage. He had an heir anyway.

  “What are you thinking?” she asked, her voice breathy. He brushed another light kiss on her forehead and rolled onto his back. He hopped to his feet and helped her to rise as well.

  “I’m thinking I have to take this damned thing off.” He walked into the washroom, and halted two steps in. Had he taken a wrong turn somewhere? Where was the bucket of water? The chamber pot? He heard Eleanor enter behind him, and spun with a smile.

  It wouldn’t do to let her see his confusion.

  “Ladies first.” He motioned her forward and stepped aside. She smirked as she walked, still clothed in his top, to the odd white thing in the corner, flicked a knob, and stuck her hand under the water rushing out.

  Oh, right.

  Plumbing, he believed it was called?

  He spied a wastebasket of some sort and peeled off the wrapper covering his cock. His skin was left dry and clean, with only the head of his shaft showing any moistness. Astonishing.

  They had similar concepts in his time, but not so efficient. She finished washing up and dried off before striding back out into the bedroom. He hurried to follow suit, pleased to find Eleanor lying under the blanket, her hair rumpled and tossed. He slid under the covers next to her, cradling her in his arms to inhale her sweet scent.

  “You feel fantastic,” Thomas murmured into her ear as he rubbed his erection against her bottom. Would he ever get enough of this woman? Would one night satiate his appetite?

  Somehow, he doubted it. She let out a loud yawn, raising a dainty hand to cover her mouth, and he chuckled. He snuggled closer, and sighed in contentment. He’d allow her a small nap to rest up. But then, he reserved every right to awaken her not with words, but with caresses.

  ***

  Thomas tensed, calling her name as he came. She quivered in his arms, and he dropped a light kiss on her swollen lips. He’d never imagined she’d be so adventurous as to take him into her mouth, a move which had led to this most recent bout of lovemaking.

  So bold. He withdrew from her body and hopped off the bed. “I’ll be right back.” He removed the condom, washed up, and returned to the bedroom to find Eleanor sitting on the edge of the bed, hands crossed in her lap. With her back held stiff and perfectly straight and her head high, she gave him pause. She looked like she was sitting at an afternoon tea, rather than on a bed with barely a stitch of clothing on.

  The first light of dawn crept through the blinds, making his heart stutter. The realization that it was morning crashed down on him like a fist. Their night of passion was over.

  “Are you okay? Was I too rough?” Thomas asked, sitting down beside her. He wrapped his arm over her shoulder, enjoying the feel of her soft body pressing against his. Would he never get to feel this again? Never be able to marvel at how perfectly she fit into his arms?

  “No. I’m fine. Wonderful, even. Tonight has been great. Thank you for being so kind.”

  He clenched his jaw, studying her closed face. Attempting a light-hearted smile, he leaned closer to her. He pressed his lips to her jaw, reaching out to hold her hand, and whispered in her ear, “It doesn’t have to end yet.”

  Eleanor tightened her fingers around his, took a deep gulp of air, and faced him with a serious expression. “I have to return home. My family will be wondering about me, and they’ll expect to find me in bed with the illness I claimed to have.”

  “Your family? I thought women like you lived alone.” It’s what his packet said, anyway.

  He fought the panic rising over him, refusing to allow himself dismay at her leaving. Theirs was a one-night stand. It wasn’t supposed to be anything more. Why, then, did he yearn to throw her down and make love to her until she couldn’t leave out of sheer fatigue?

  “No.” She bit down hard on her lower lip. “Not me.”

  “Where do you live? I’ll walk you home.” He’d at least be able to think about seeing her again if he knew where to find her.

  She jumped to her feet and removed his shirt. His mouth watered at the sight of her splendor laid bare, and he took the top from her out of sheer manners. She struggled to put on her underthings, as she said, “No, please. You can’t come with me. It wouldn’t be…right.”

  She conquered the bottom part of her unmentionables and spun the top part around in her hands with a frown. She tossed it over her shoulder—a scowl on her face, while she muttered something under her breath—and shrugged into her blouse.

  “Contrary to how I might have acted tonight, I’m a gentleman, and I insist upon seeing you home safely.”

  As she stepped into her skirt, her shoulders were stiff and her knuckles white on the garment. “Fine. But give me a moment to get ready.”

  She looked perfect to him.

  Pleasure overcame Thomas as he dressed, making his heart light. He’d find out where she lived, mull it over a bit, and decide if he wanted to ask her to be his mistress. No need to rush into things.

  He’d know where to find her.

  Under the cover of her eyelashes, Eleanor saw him clothe himself. Oh, how she ached to throw herself into his arms and confess all. But if she told him who she was, he’d feel obligated to offer his formal suit. He’d seduced a viscount’s daughter. They might be poor, but she still had a title. And as such, he’d be duty-bound to make an honest woman of her.

  There was no way she could do that to him. He’d never forgive her if she trapped him. And lies and anger did not make a happy marriage bed. Darn him for being so chivalrous and demanding he see her home. It made her exit a lot harder than she’d hoped for.

  Reaching into her purse, she grabbed the cool metal of the time-traveling watch. She glanced over her shoulder and caught him watching her with a soft tenderness. If this had come in a different way, things might have ended differently. If he could care for her, she might open her mouth and confess all. Perhaps he could have even loved her, under different circumstances.

  Instead, he could only see an illusion of her true self she had given him to hide her identity. She swallowed and sat beside him, cradli
ng his cheek. Leaning in, she kissed him with all the love she could never express. She kept it soft and light. When he leaned in to deepen it, she pulled away and stroked his lip.

  “I will never, ever forget this night. I hope you can remember me with fondness, as well.” Her voice broke on the last word. She tried to look away from him, but found herself hypnotized by his amber eyes. “I’ll miss you.”

  Thomas brought her fingers to his lips. “You said I could walk you home. There will be time for good-byes.”

  She tensed and blinked back tears. “It will do you no good to know where I live. I dwell far from here. In a place where no one ever sees me. You’ll be no different, even after tonight. But know this: I have always, and will always, love you. Now, more so than before. I wish you and your son all the luck in the world.”

  His jaw dropped. “How could you…how do you know about my son?”

  Eleanor knew as well as he did that he hadn’t mentioned the child tonight. “I’m sorry.”

  She pulled out the device that would help her escape his accusing stare. When he saw what she held, he lunged for it. She jumped to her feet, did two fast turns counter clockwise, and closed her lids. Light flashed, and when she dared enough to peek, she stood in her bedroom, surrounded by all her familiar things.

  Yet, in an unfair twist of fate, everything inside her had changed.

  Epilogue

  Countess Hastings’ Masquerade Ball

  London, 1812

  One week.

  One week had passed since his mystery woman—was her name even Eleanor?—had disappeared in front of him, after letting him know her secret. After punching him in the gut by letting it slip she hailed from his time…and knew him. He’d seen her turn the dial two complete turns, which took her back two hundred years— right before her vanishing act. Thomas hadn’t stopped searching for her yet.