Outshine (House of Oak Book 5)

by Nichole Van

  Fossi pursed her mouth. “The only way you could be the first Lord Whitmoor and your father the seventh is if—” Here she broke off, her puzzled brain trying to put together a possible answer. “You were born at some ludicrously far off point in the future and then traveled backward in time and somehow became the first Lord Whitmoor and purchased the house . . .”

  Fossi laughed at the absurdity of what she was saying.

  “Honestly, Daniel,” she continued, “it’s a clever logic puzzle, but as reality it is so ridiculous, I don’t know—”

  She stopped.

  Right there.

  In the middle of her sentence.

  Because Daniel wasn’t laughing or smiling or acting . . . surprised. He was just staring at her, face impassive.

  “So . . . if I were born in say the year 1991,” he said into the quiet, “and realized due to our family history that I was actually my own eighth great-grandfather. And then decided when I was in my early twenties to use—shall we say a time portal on Arthur Knight’s estate in Herefordshire?—to travel two hundred years into the past to ensure that I took up my title as the first Lord Whitmoor . . .”

  Fossi literally forgot how to breathe.

  The shock of that moment . . .

  Which could be the only explanation for the inanity of her reply:

  “Does Arthur Knight know he possesses a time portal on his estate?”

  That got her a glimmer of a smile.

  “He does. As does Marianne.”

  Sweet, gentle Marianne Knight knew that Daniel was from another century?

  Wait.

  Was she truthfully considering this?

  No. It was ludicrous.

  It figured Daniel would be mad in the end.

  She shook her head. Refusing to believe.

  “It’s impossible,” she repeated.

  Compassion tinged Daniel’s gaze.

  “I know it is fantastical, but it is truth,” he said.

  More head shaking. “I cannot believe it.”

  “It will take time and more proof, but you will understand it to be true in the end.”

  “That seems . . . unlikely.”

  “You do realize this isn’t like a religious conversion, right?” A smile touched his lips. “I am not asking you to have faith in my words. I expect you to doubt and wonder until presented with overwhelming empirical evidence.”

  She supposed that was meant to be comforting.

  “Do other’s believe?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  She rolled her hand. Elaborate, please.

  “Georgiana and Sebastian. Timothy and Jasmine. Jasmine is from another time as well. She is the Keeper of the portal and mystically tied to it.”

  Fossi sat back, surely her eyes as glazed and startled as she felt.

  “Do you need a moment?” he asked.

  She shook her head. No.

  “Are you certain?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’ve gone pale.”

  “Well, I suppose that is allowed when one meets a time traveler. I can’t say I have consulted an etiquette book on the matter.”

  “Quite right.”

  A long pause.

  “Why?” Fossi asked.

  Why do you need me? Why am I part of this?

  The fire popped, making a last desperate bid for life. Daniel stood and grabbed a poker, jabbing at the smoldering coals and throwing another log on. Flames eagerly caught it, lapping bright warmth.

  He set the poker down and turned back to Fossi, hands on his hips.

  “The problem is this. In order to be my own eighth great-grandfather, I need to have a son—”

  “Simon,” she breathed.

  “Exactly. He was my heir.”

  That made sense, she supposed.

  But . . . Daniel could have more children, couldn’t he?

  “Do you remember the earthquake that occurred in Herefordshire?”

  She nodded. “Yes. I remember reading about it. We didn’t feel it down in Dorset, of course.”

  “The earthquake happened just a day after Simon’s death and was centered directly under the portal . . .”

  Fossi listened in amazement as he explained about anachronistic mistakes, the time portal, oscillating waves on the ocean of Time, deviating timelines of history and a genius mathematician lost in the annals of history who would conjure up Fourier’s Nemesis.

  Fossi wasn’t sure how to feel about her theorems being known two hundred years into the future.

  “So you see, my dear Fossi, I tracked you down based on what I remembered from my university studies in the twenty-first century. That is why I knew your theorems but nothing more about yourself or your situation.”

  Her mind pointed out that his explanation actually made perfect sense, provided she accept the idea he was a time traveler.

  Again, was she honestly ready to accept his bizarre explanation?

  And if she did?

  All this time, she had considered him a spy of extraordinary ability. Which, she supposed, he still was. Just different than she had expected.

  “So once I fix the time portal, you will be reunited with Kit and other friends you have in the future?” she asked.

  “Yes, that is part of it.”

  Fossi frowned and then it hit her in a breathtaking blast of understanding.

  “Oh, Daniel.” She lifted a stunned hand to her mouth. “You truly do want Simon back, don’t you?”

  A long pause.

  “I do. I absolutely do.” Voice ringing with conviction. “I made a terrible mistake that must be fixed.”

  Her mind whirled, moving through all the possibilities—

  No. All the impossibilities of his desires.

  “So . . .” She swallowed. “You will use the portal to go back in time and what? Bring Simon to our time, so as to save his life? Use medicine in the future to save him?”

  “No. He is my heir, so there cannot be any doubt that he lived two years ago. My own anachronistic actions caused his death. I will simply prevent him from dying in 1826.”

  “But you already exist in 1826.”

  “Yes. However, the universe doesn’t like paradoxes. So when Simon lives and the timeline changes, I will simply reabsorb into one person. It’s like a kinked rope, looped back around itself and creating a mess. Everything right now is convoluted and wrong. I intend to straighten the rope. Once it straightens, things will snap back into place.”

  Fossi followed his logic. She wasn’t sure she agreed with it, as it felt fundamentally wrong on some levels.

  Who was Daniel to judge what God intended for their lives?

  But if his vision came to pass . . .

  “We will never meet.” She said the words almost to herself. A horrified realization. “You will never know me. I will never know you.”

  Fossi pressed her palm to her mouth, as if to hold her dismay inside.

  She swallowed back a raw tightness in her throat, but it didn’t stop the world from going blurry and unfocused.

  She would never know him. He would never know her.

  Never draw her out of her shell.

  Never converse and laugh and flirt with her.

  She would never know what she had . . . known.

  Never grow. Never change.

  She would just remain . . . Fossi.

  Trapped forever in that wishful state of wanting to be something more . . .

  “Fossi . . .”

  He moved toward her, a blurry, Daniel-shaped blob.

  She held out both hands, palms out. Stop.

  “We will never know each other . . . in your ‘correct’ timeline?” Surely her eyes begged him for truth.

  She wiped her tears away. She wanted to see his reply.

  His shoulders sagged.

  “Yes. That is true.”

  Silence.

  What more was there to say?

  Of course he loved his son. He was a devoted father. It was one of the th
ings she adored about him—the way he loved those who were his.

  How could she be angry over his desire to prevent Simon from dying?

  And yet . . .

  She was angry.

  Furious.

  How could Fate do this to her? How could she finally find the courage and a path to life, only to have it ripped from her again?

  It was so . . . cruel.

  And Fossi was so tired of being the whipping boy for other’s dreams.

  Such a selfish thought for her.

  But she finally admitted it as such.

  She could be selfish. She could demand more from her life.

  Selflessness, after all when taken too far, became a sort of pride too. Didn’t it?

  “Fossi?” Daniel’s voice held a question now.

  Are you all right? it said.

  No. No she was not all right.

  She—no!—they had never had a chance. Fossi and Daniel . . . doomed before it even began.

  Fossimo . . . wouldst that we had been.

  And he had known.

  This was why he hadn’t offered for her. Marriage was simply . . . pointless.

  It explained why he flirted with her and behaved in unguarded ways.

  There were no consequences for his behavior. So why not?

  She swiped at her cheeks.

  Tears seemed the most manageable place for her anger and frustration and disappointment and hopelessness to go. Otherwise, she was likely to start shattering crockery against the wall and screeching.

  She brushed tears away for a few more moments.

  “Fossi—” Daniel started one more time.

  She held up a finger. No. Stop.

  Wiped more tears on his shawl. The beautiful, soft, luxurious gift that he would Never. Give. To. Her.

  That thought deserved a few more tears.

  “Hey.” Daniel squatted down in front of her. “Talk to me.”

  She swallowed.

  “All the clothing, the promised money, our friendship . . . all l-lies,” she hiccupped.

  “No!” Emphatic. “Never that. That is why I gave you the ten thousand pounds up front. I wanted to be as honest as I could, to allow you to use your funds as soon as possible. To live as you never had.”

  “And our friendship?” She had to ask it.

  He bent his head and leaned closer, trying to get her to meet his gaze.

  “I have been my most genuine self with you, Foster Lovejoy. Please. You must believe that.”

  It was a non-answer.

  She dabbed at her cheeks again with his shawl.

  “We are in unsure territory. The end outcome is still conjecture,” he continued.

  “But you suspect that all will revert to 1826? Me. You. Simon.”

  A beat.

  “Yes.” His voice so final, drifting through the nighttime hush.

  She gritted her teeth, anger warring with shattered sadness.

  Words clogged her throat.

  She stuffed them back, but they burst forth anyway.

  “How could you do this to me?” Soft. Not hissing or furious. Simply tinged all around with devastation. “I thought you were my f-friend. I will fix the portal for you and then you will abandon me to my dead life, living without living. You will have joy and I will have”—a hiccuppy sigh—“n-nothing.”

  Daniel flinched. Hard.

  She had struck true.

  She could leave now. Take her ten thousand pounds and high away, absconding. Start a girl’s school far away from here.

  Leave the portal broken.

  Abandon Daniel to his grief and guilt.

  But even as the thought flitted through her mind, she cast it out again.

  No.

  She was not that sort of person. Her honor would not allow her to behave in such a manner.

  Besides, she loved him too much. Even knowing the outcome, knowing what it would do to her and her own future . . . she would help him.

  “Talk to me,” he repeated.

  He placed a tentative hand on her knee, shaking her slightly.

  It was an absurd method of comfort.

  When what she really wanted was—

  Yes. She knew what she wanted.

  She wanted a repeat of what had almost happened earlier . . . before her father had interrupted.

  Foster gave her cheeks one last swipe. Opened her eyes and met Daniel’s gaze.

  If they both would forget all this anyway . . . if there truly were no consequences.

  The thought gave her courage. More than she ever imagined having.

  She leaned forward and fisted the front of his shirt in one hand. Pulled him forward. Hard.

  His balance tipped toward her and his hands landed on her hips to keep from crashing into her.

  Action. Reaction.

  Perfect.

  His mouth was only inches from hers.

  She closed the gap.

  And kissed him.

  Her mouth pressed against his.

  It was a graceless bump of lips. More a peck than anything else.

  Hmmmm.

  No. That wasn’t quite how she had envisioned it.

  When she did new things, she liked to do them well.

  She tried again.

  She pressed her mouth to his, lingering more this time.

  It was . . . better.

  Odd how lips seemed so solid when merely observed, but when touched, they became clouds of softness and sensation.

  She broke the kiss again and was contemplating a third-go, when Daniel wrested all control from her.

  His strong hands grasped her hips and pulled her upright to her feet. And then he kept right on reeling her in, until her entire body was flush against his.

  He bent his head . . .

  And that’s when Foster Lovejoy learned what a kiss really could be.

  Daniel didn’t just kiss her.

  He devoured.

  He savored.

  He feasted.

  He was a man lost in a desert and she the only water he could find.

  Fossi wrapped her hands into the soft lawn of his shirt and held on.

  His large hands were on her back—one at her waist, the other between her shoulder blades—pressing her closer.

  “You are utterly magnificent when you are angry,” he whispered against her mouth.

  “How dare you forget me!” She shook the fists of shirt she held.

  He chuckled.

  The. Nerve.

  She kissed him for that.

  Arched up on her tiptoes and partook of his mouth like she owned it. As if his kisses belonged to her and he, true to his nature, had whitmoored them from her.

  She wanted them all returned. With interest.

  Dimly, sounds intruded.

  Shouting. Was someone shouting?

  The door to the study burst open.

  Fossi and Daniel flew apart. For the second time that night.

  Lord Linwood stood in the doorway, completely disheveled, face ashen.

  “Daniel,” he gasped, “you must come.”

  “Whatever is the matter?”

  “Jasmine. She had a seizure in her sleep and now will not wake. Something has gone terribly wrong!”

  Chapter 21

  On the road to Duir Cottage

  Near the town of Marfield, Herefordshire

  October 3, 1828

  Jasmine was delirious.

  Daniel watched her head tossing to and fro in Timothy’s arms.

  The carriage hit a rut in the road, jolting them all.

  Timothy simply held his wife closer, face grimly determined.

  “We’ll solve this problem, Timothy. I’m here for you,” Daniel said, forcing Timothy to meet his gaze. “Fossi is here for you.”

  At his side, Fossi nodded without lifting her head from the equations she feverishly worked.

  They were racing for the portal. Jasmine had collapsed into a raving delirium. She wasn’t fevered, per se, just unhinged somehow.r />
  “Home. Father,” she murmured. “Broken. Portal. Must return . . .” The rest was lost in a mumble.

  Timothy kissed his wife’s forehead.

  This had been their routine for the past five hours. The coachman driving hell-for-leather for Duir Cottage. The four of them tensely riding inside. Fossi desperately working toward an answer. Timothy caring for his wife. Daniel providing moral support for them all.

  They had to fix the portal. Jasmine’s health depended on it.

  They hit another bump. The coach rocked along. They had stopped twice now to switch horses. At their current pace, they would arrive at Duir Cottage before noon.

  “I have it!” Fossi lifted her head, eyes feverishly animated.

  Daniel whipped his head her way.

  “Truly?”

  “Yes.” A fervent nod. “I really think I do.”

  Hallelujah!

  “Though it is . . . interesting,” she continued.

  Daniel and Timothy fixed her with intent eyes.

  Fossi’s face was excitement personified.

  “Knowing what I was solving for helped immensely. I was able to quickly hone in on numerical values that were most appropriate. I think it is related to pitch, in the end.”

  “Pitch?”

  “Yes. Once I knew that this was a problem related to wave oscillation, it was easier to focus in on the concept of frequency resonance as a solution.” She held out her workbook, angling it so both men could see her calculations. “I derived the frequency here with the equations here. When the two are solved together, you arrive at this height calculation which if placed back into the equation, gives you infinity as the answer.”

  A beat.

  Daniel stared at her answer.

  Fossi noticed his noticing.

  “Well, almost infinity,” she amended. “There is a remainder.”

  Indeed there was.

  “One.” Daniel read the number.

  “Exactly. That’s the problem and the snag I’ve been hitting over and over. I get infinity plus a remainder. This particular iteration comes the closest to solving the entire problem—”

  “But you still have a remainder.”

  “I do. And it’s plus one or minus one. But it is always one.”

  “May I?” Daniel extended a hand for her notebook.

  They rocked along for a few minutes in silence, Daniel skimming over her numbers.

  Damn.

  The woman was an absolute genius. Awe-inspiring, really.