Chapter 10
The two, er, maids—what were they?—hefted Erva on the four-post bed with the ginger and pink floral duvet and smiled down at her. Although it had been dark when they’d entered the room, instantly all the candles and lamps were aflame with warm amber light, making the moment even more nauseatingly surreal. One of the maids raised her hand and snapped. Promptly the door swung closed, shutting Erva in with the two women who’d been in her dream. Or were they a part of her craziness? She tried to repress a scream that bubbled in her throat.
“I’m sorry your knee is injured,” the one with her ruffled cap in place over what appeared to be a huge mess of dark red hair said. “But are you having a good time otherwise?”
The other maid, whose cap was askew and falling over a slender shoulder, arched a brow. “She has swollen, red lips. I think she was having a very good time.”
They giggled.
Erva shook her head, wanting to run from the maids, but somehow feeling trapped. “I—I dreamed you.”
“I told you, Erva, it’s not a dream.”
“How do you know my name?” Erva scooted her butt away from the two.
The one with the cap straight on her head sighed. “Well, as creepy as it sounds, I was watching you. I have been for a long, long time. But in my defense, it’s my job to watch you.”
“You are Homeland Security. Am I tripping out on some drug you gave me?”
The maid softly chuckled. “No, this isn’t a dream; it’s not a hallucination. And I don’t work for your government. I work for myself. Call me self-employed.”
“What do you mean?” Erva’s voice had gone soft and quiet. She kept wiggling to see if there was a way to escape the duo, but she flinched when she bent her knee too much.
“She’s panicking, Sis,” the jaunty cap-wearing maid said. “Tell her who we are, so she won’t hurt herself.”
The other reached out her hands, but didn’t touch Erva. “Sweetie, Minerva Ferguson, child of history, I’ve been watching you since your father passed away. I was there after your father’s funeral when you picked up one of his books about World War II. The book gave you solace, unlike anything else. You learned about the strategy of air defense. Something your father thought much of, even though he was a land-based Marine. With you, he had confided how he’d always wanted to be a pilot, but since he never went to college, he never thought he could do much more than be a jarhead. In you, he placed all his dreams. He begged you to do more than him. He didn’t care what your dreams were, but just that you reach for them. It is the one thing you wouldn’t let your mother control, your desire to become a military historian.”
While the maid spoke, Erva’s heart raced then flew into her throat. Her head throbbed, and she couldn’t breathe. She could only hold very still, worried that if she moved even a minuscule muscle, she might explode from the truth, from this moment.
The askew cap-wearing maid rolled her eyes. “Good job, Sis. She’s freaking out even more.”
“How—how do you know that?” Erva asked, holding her fingers to her mouth.
“You place your fingertips along your lips when you’re anxious. I’m sorry I’m making you nervous. But, you see, Erva, I’m your muse. You, although unintentionally, called me when you read and enjoyed the history of World War II aircraft evolution. I’ve watched you grow into a woman, then a soldier yourself for four years, then, finally an academic, where your heart soars when you’re researching and writing. You’re so good at what you do. You’re inspiring, my dear.”
Erva swallowed, but her throat was too tight. The action hurt rather than calmed her. All those words, spoken in such a soft feminine voice, she’d longed to hear for so long. And, God, how she hated it, but coming from a woman, it meant so much more. She ached to hear her mother say something akin to it. But all she’d ever gotten from her mom was something to the effect that she’d never marry now that she was thoroughly unfeminine and too smart for her own good.
“I’m Clio, Minerva,” the straight cap-wearing muse said. She turned to the other. “And this is my sister, Erato.”
Erva thought back to the Greek history class she took as an undergraduate. Erato was the muse of...oh yeah! The muse of erotic and romance writing.
Erato laughed. “She’s looking at me like I’m Medusa, complete with snakes for hair.”
Clio shrugged. “Well, you are a lot to take in, and what’s with your maid’s cap?”
“What do you mean? What’s with it?”
“It’s falling out, barely pinned in place.”
Erato peeked over her shoulder at her wild red hair. “God, I hate this little cap thing.” She looked at Erva with a wide smile. “I hope you don’t mind...” She snapped, and instantly her maid’s uniform was gone. In its place was a golden toga. Erato’s hair was neatly braided and hung over one shoulder. She drew a huge breath. “Ah, that is so much more comfortable. How on earth did women wear corsets for so long?”
“Some women needed the support.” Clio snorted and arched a brow at her sister’s chest.
Erato cracked yet another smile at Erva. “I think my sister’s trying to cleverly point out that I don’t have much for breasts, but we’re the same size, so she’s really insulting herself as well. By the way, are yours real? Either way, they’re great.”
Erva blinked at the spinning, constant conversation, needing to gulp for air.
Clio growled. “You can’t ask her that! You’re ruining everything!”
“What?” Erato shrugged and climbed on the bed Erva was glued to, transfixed while watching the bickering sisters. Erato sat with her legs bent under her, a couple feet away from Erva. “I’m giving the girl a compliment.”
“Erva’s having a hard enough time believing this is her reality, and you’re asking about her boobs, which are real, yes. They grew almost overnight when she was seventeen. She had thought she’d be flat chested for the rest of her life, but that obviously didn’t happen. So stop talking about her breasts.”
“I think you’re the one going on and on about them.”
Clio growled again and raked a hand through her hair, loosening the maid’s cap. Then she made another strangled, annoyed noise. She pushed her palms out with a huff, and lifted her right hand, snapping her fingers. Instantly she was dressed similarly to Erato. At that, Clio gave a contented sigh. She then turned back to Erva with a maternal smile.
“Anyway, where was I?”
“You were trying to convince me this is reality. I’m not crazy?” Erva’s voice rasped.
“You’re not crazy, Minerva.” Erato patted Erva’s leg. “Oh, wow, you’re a firm one. You work out?”
Erva kept blinking at Erato’s too happy face.
“Oh, I think she’s going to cry,” Erato said.
“Erva, honey, what’s wrong?”
Erva turned from one muse to the other. Her eyes did sting with tears. “What’s wrong is I think I believe you. This is my reality now.”
Clio rushed to the bed and sat opposite her sister, hugging Erva. “No, no, sweet girl, this is a temporary reality. You’ll go back home soon.”
Which would mean...she really had kissed Will. She hadn’t hallucinated it. She hadn’t fantasized about him. He was real. And handsome. Caring. Kind even.
A tear slid down Erva’s cheek as too many emotions swept over her. Quickly Erato wiped it away, wrapping her arms around Erva too.
“Don’t you want to go back home, Erva?” Clio asked.
“That’s not why she’s crying,” Erato said quietly. “Is it?”
Erva sniffed then shrugged.
“You like him, don’t you?” Erato asked.
Erva couldn’t answer. Her throat was too tight.
Clio loosened her grip on Erva then stared down at her sister. “Erato, did you have a hand in this?”
Erva turned to the muse of romance. Oh God, the little trickster had to have had a hand with her too quick emotions and the make out session she�
�d had in the back of the carriage. Damn, she’d never done anything like that before. She’d never gotten carried away.
Never had felt that kind of passion before.
Erato shook her head with a small smile. “Not even a little bit. What you feel for that man is purely your own emotions...desires.”
“But—” Erva tried to protest.
“I promise you, little Minerva,” Erato widened her smile, “I had nothing to do with the kisses you shared with Will.”
“How did you know we kissed?”
Erato giggled. “I didn’t until now. You, my precious, just told me.”
Erva sighed. She was about to tell where Erato could put her smile, when a rap was heard.
“Lady Ferguson?” Will’s voice rang through the door. He cleared his throat and said a little softer, “I—I have that ice for you.”
“He’s here,” Erato whispered gleefully. She stood, and while holding a post began to jump on the feather bed. “He’s here. He’s here.”
“Stop it,” Clio demanded. “Go get the door.”
“Spoilsport,” Erato said.
Clio opened her mouth, but then kept it ajar. Finally she huffed. “I am not. Just go get the door.”
Erato flew across the room without so much as a thud against the floor when she landed. She looked back at Erva and lifted her red brows a couple times, then stuck her tongue out at her sister. But while glancing at her sister, she must have realized their outfits. Lifting her hand she snapped twice, and she and Clio were back in their drab maids’ uniforms. Then Erato opened the door.
“Hello, my lord, what a surprise to see you here.”
Will took a tentative step through the threshold, but stopped. He’d taken off his red coat, but was still dashing with his cravat gone and in his blue waistcoat with a white linen shirt, and wearing those delicious breeches. Yum. He held a tray with a large glass bowl that looked like it was full of ice. Wasn’t he an earl? Yet here he was with a serving tray, looking bashful and completely unsure of himself. Erva’s heart tugged at her ribs, and what lay between her legs stirred back to life.
“Yes, well, the doctor recommended ice for Lady Ferguson’s knee. I thought—”
“You thought you’d administer it,” Clio said as she jumped into action. “How kind of you.”
“But—” Will said.
“Yes, yes, come here, let me show you how.” Clio guided Will closer to Erva.
The whole time Erva could hardly keep up with the conversation, but with Will in the room, everything except him seemed to blur. Only he seemed to have any definitive shape, voice, presence. Only him.
Erva had been sitting with her legs stretched before her, yet her still slippered feet dangled off the ledge of the large bed. Clio grabbed Erva’s ankles and pulled her until her bum was hardly on the feather mattress. In so doing, Erva’s dress climbed to her knees. Will took a quick look down, then peeked again at her legs in white stockings. His bright blue eyes darkened.
Clio grabbed the tray from him, then set it beside Erva. She straightened then looked at her sister. “Would you mind fetching a cloth to put the ice in?”
“Um, sure.” Erato nodded, turned around, and wheeled right back where she had been standing with a white piece of fabric in her hands. Erva was sure some part of that had to be magic. Or something she couldn’t quite fathom.
So, she was really back in 1776. She had really kissed Will. She wasn’t going crazy.
She glanced up at him. His eyes were still such a dark blue as he studied her legs. Yet she knew, in a bone-crushing kind of way, in just a few days he would die. Reading about it was one thing, but to look upon the man she had studied most fervently, to see his flesh, the way a muscle bulged along his jawline, the rise and fall of his chest...He was alive right now. He was real. He was so handsome it made her hurt. No, not hurt. Ache.
Erato had handed Clio the cloth, and the former muse bundled some ice into it, narrating what she was doing. “Now, you don’t want too much ice; otherwise, it’ll chill the lady. But just a few pieces should suffice. Wrap the cloth like so, so the ice doesn’t touch the lady.”
Will nodded and watched Clio as if he were learning Prussian tactics. Erva couldn’t help but smile at his intensity. Then Clio gripped Erva’s skirts and lifted them almost to her hips. Trying to pull them back down, or at least make sure she was properly covered between her legs, Erva hardly caught Will’s reaction to seeing so much of her. But nonetheless she did see it.
His already dark blue eyes turned into cobalt black. His chest rose dramatically, then he held his breath.
“Here, my lord, you need to stand here.” Clio yanked Will between Erva’s legs.
Erato snorted, then coughed.
“Put the ice on her knee like so,” Clio said, while she pulled Erva’s leg up, cradling it dangerously close to Will’s hip.
God, Erva thought, the muse was even more clueless than she. Erva was fairly certain that Clio was awkwardly trying to stir an already buzzing hornet’s nest between Will and her. She peeked up at him who stared down at her leg, nose flaring, jaw squared. His gaze bounced up to meet hers. His tense jaw relaxed minutely. For a split second he seemed to give her a small, almost drunk smile.
“Now you, my lord. Show me how you’re going to take care of your lady. Show me what I taught you,” Clio said, while shoving the icepack into Will’s hands.
His smile vanished. He swallowed.
Then he gingerly held Erva’s knee with one hand, the other gently applied the ice.
“Am I hurting the lady?” he asked.
Erva didn’t answer. She forgot she was the lady, but Erato cleared her throat and pointedly pursed her lips at her.
“Oh,” Erva whispered. “No, not at all, my lord.” Her knee felt the chill of the ice, but the rest of her body had turned into molten lava. Will’s large hand felt even hotter through her torn stocking. His body’s heat crashed into her.
Her breasts were suddenly too sensitive, and her corset felt too tight. With all the layers of her shift, stays, stomacher and dress, Erva thought her nipples might be poking through, alerting Will to her arousal just because the man held her leg.
But she had an odd audience of two muses. It was so not the time to feel randy. Especially for a man who lived in the eighteenth century, she reminded herself. Oh, and he was going to die soon.
God, this situation had fifteen different colors of crazy all over it. Even if she weren't supposedly insane.
“All right, my lord, I think you’ve got it. You’ll need to do this again tomorrow,” Clio said.
Will nodded, but didn’t release his careful hold of Erva’s leg.
Clio forced the ice from him, then basically shoved him aside and away. “Are you sure you heard me? You need to apply the ice tomorrow, got it?”
Will blinked and finally glanced at the muse, not Erva’s leg. “Yes, but doesn’t she need the ice to linger on her knee longer this evening?”
Clio smiled altogether too widely. “Why, yes, she does, but I can do that. I won’t be here tomorrow, so you’ll have to do it then.”
“I—oh,” Will stuttered.
Clio pushed him toward the door. “We need a word with the lady, so you’ll excuse us.”
“Um, yes, I—”
“Remember, tomorrow, mayhap first thing, she’ll need you for her icing.”
Will was at the doorway, when he spun around and glanced over Clio’s shoulder at Erva. “I—I—if you need anything, my lady, please call upon me. I—yes, you can call me.”
Erva couldn’t help but grin at the guy, standing there looking so handsome and so befuddled at the same time. “I will.”
“Good. I hope you do—I hope for a quick recovery.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
His jawline kicked, but he gave her a small smile. “Good—good night, Erva.”
“Good night, Will.”
After the door was latched behind the
tall, muscular frame of Will’s retreating form, Erato let loose an odd laugh that cusped close to a phlegmy cough. “Subtle. Very subtle, Sister.”
Clio’s brows were cast down. “What now? One moment I’m a spoilsport, the next I’m not subtle enough for you?”
Erato plopped herself close to Erva again. “Why didn’t you just strip poor, little Minerva? It would have driven the point home a bit more clearly.”
“Why are you using such sarcasm on me? I’m trying to prove I’m not a spoilsport.”
Erato sighed. “I’m sorry I said that. I was just kidding around. But seriously, you shouldn’t have forced William between Erva’s legs. The poor man almost had a heart attack. Did you hear his heart beating?”
“You could hear his heart beating?” Erva asked.
“Yes,” both muses replied.
“Was it beating fast?”
Erato giggled. “Like a race horse. The man really likes you, finds you very attractive.”
“Which? Does he like me? Or does he find me attractive?”
Erato studied Erva for a moment. “They don’t have to be mutually exclusive.”
What Erato said certainly crept into Erva’s heart and lit some dynamite. She blinked, trying hard to think clearly. If she were being honest with herself then, yes, she had thought they were mutually exclusive. She’d dated men who found her attractive, but as soon as she revealed an ounce of who she was, they were gone. At least, that was the case with her husband. She’d tried so hard to cover herself, make sure he knew that, yeah, she was an academic, but she wouldn’t lord it over him. And, yes, she was an excellent shot and could play hard with the boys, but she would hide that if it bothered him. She’d hidden so much of herself.
She remembered again how Will had stood back at the British bulwark and seemed proud of her for making all those shots. Even at the banquet, when meeting his superiors, Erva thought Will was proud of her for saying so much, although she realized that what she had said was seriously close to sedition in 1776. Yet there he stood, right beside her, smiling down at her like he...like he admired her.
Erato caressed a piece of Erva’s hair behind her ear. “Sweetie, why don’t you do something regarding the way you feel about William?”
Erva stared at the muse. “Because...I don’t belong here. I’m not from this time. I’m only getting a glimpse, and worst of all he’s going to die.”
“What is that saying, dear Sister?” Clio asked. “Ah, yes, ‘Better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all.’ That’s one of your best statements, I’ve always thought.”
Erva rolled her eyes. “Lord Tennyson wrote that.”
Erato cackled a dry laugh. “Of course, I gave him the credit for it, but that was all me, my dear.”
Erva blinked, having quite a hard time letting that filter through her defenses. “This is hard for me to wrap my head around.”
“Oh! I have just the thing for that then,” Clio said. She rushed to the bureau, unfastened it, then retracted a small dark wooden box with an intricate Greek-looking design around the top—something like small waves interlacing with each other. She sat carefully next to Erato. “Open it, please.”
Erva lifted the lid, staring in amazement at the treasures. “O-oh,” she stammered.
“It’s some of your favorite things from home. Of course, your iPhone won’t get any reception, but I’ve charged it so it won’t die while you’re here. You can listen to your music and read books now. I’ve also made sure you had your razor. The straight blades of this time are great for scars, but not much else. And I packed your favorite facial scrub and lotion and toothbrush and toothpaste.”
Erva reached out and clamped onto Clio then Erato too in a big hug. “Thank you.”
After releasing them, Erva was surprised to see Erato had standing tears in her large turquoise eyes.
“You are quite deserving of this glimpse, Erva.”
Before Erva could say thank you again, Clio said, “I told you she was.”
A tear surfed down Erato’s alabaster cheek.
Erva shook her head slightly. “What’s wrong then?”
Erato fetched Erva’s hand and held it. “I’m happy. So happy you’re here, so happy you like Will so much and find him attractive as well.”
Erva retracted her hand from the muse and glanced down at her lap, covered in too many frilly skirts. “It’s stupid the way I feel.”
Both the muses gasped. Clio grabbed Erva’s face and held it between her hands. “Don’t ever say that, Minerva. Please don’t ever say that again. Your emotions are valid.”
“But they aren’t real. Or they would be real if I had lived in the eighteenth century. Besides, what am I going on about? I doubt Will feels anything toward me, other than—”
“I get it,” Erato interrupted, while Clio released Erva’s face. “You’ve been scarred by life. You don’t trust people. You’re scared.”
Erva took in a shaky breath, not wanting to admit the truth of everything Erato had just summed up.
“So, Erva, while you’re here, be brave. You already have been with the shooting and saying exactly what’s on your mind. Now, though, you can be the woman you’ve always wanted to be. Seduce Will just because you feel like it. Or hold his hand, if that’s what you want. My sister gave you this glimpse not just for Will’s sake, so you can redeem his character when you get back home, but this is for you too.” Erato smiled through her tears. “Minerva, you incredible human woman, this is a glimpse for you to see who you really can be. Please be brave enough to be you.”
Enemy of Mine Page 12