"She does seem so," he said and instantly regretted agreeing with the woman.
Elizabeth reached for him, laying one tiny soft hand on his arm. "Then you sense it too," she said on yet another sigh.
He tensed at her touch, remembering another time when she had sought him out. "Sense it? No. But it's damn— darn hard not to see it,” Seth grumbled. Gritting his teeth, he recalled how Nora had faced him down that morning. The fire in her eyes and the mutinous expression on her face were completely at odds with the Nora he had known for ten years.
“Whatever shall we do about her, do you think?” Elizabeth asked, putting just a touch of pressure on his arm.
"Not much we can do," he told her, refusing to look into her no doubt tear-filled eyes. "Except be patient. She'll probably come around soon.”
At least, he hoped she would. He kept telling himself that the changes in Nora were only caused by the fever that had held her in its grip for so many days. Once she had completely recovered, she would become the woman they all knew. Wouldn't she?
She damn sure better, because this new Nora was blamed hard to get along with. Not only did she argue with everything he said, but just being around her stirred up unusual feelings deep inside him. Feelings that he didn't want to look at too closely. Feelings he had no business having for a woman he generally considered a kid sister.
"Thank you, Seth," Elizabeth whispered and squeezed his hand gently. Her touch splintered his thoughts. He pulled his hand free of hers and finally met her gaze. As he had expected, there was a film of water blurring the beauty of her brown eyes. Everything within him tensed up. Lord, how he hated a crying woman.
"It's done me a world of good," she went on in her slightly breathless tone, “to talk over my worries with a strong man."
She hadn't done all that much talking, thank God. And why crying and moaning to somebody who wasn't really listening would be any help to her, he couldn't figure out. But at least, it sounded as though she was fixing to leave him alone for a while. Grateful, he said, "Glad to be of help, ma'am," and touched the brim of his hat with his fingertips.
"Oh, you have," she assured him, batting her long eyelashes demurely. "But I wonder if I might impose on you a bit longer?”
He almost groaned. Why in the hell this female was always following him around, he didn't know. But it was mighty irritating. Blast it, he should have left one of the cowhands to do this repair work. If he had just ridden off onto the range hours ago, he wouldn't have had to see Elizabeth until suppertime. Even as that thought entered his mind though, he realized that he couldn't have left after that argument with Nora. She'd been talking so strangely that he hadn't wanted to be too far away from the main house. Something was wrong with her. And until he found out just what it was, he planned on staying as close to his employer as he possibly could.
"Yes, ma'am," he surrendered grudgingly. "What can I do for you?"
"Would you escort me to the house, Seth? I simply feel weak from worry over our dear Nora.”
His eyebrows lifted slightly as she leaned into him. Her perfume drifted to him and his nose twitched. Her scent was as irritating as the woman wearing it. She always smelled like roses left on the bush too long. Long enough to go to seed.
Trying to avoid breathing, Seth set the bridle down on the cluttered workbench and offered her his arm. As her fingers tightened around his forearm, he couldn't help mentally comparing her strong grip to the talons of a hawk, digging into its prey.
#
When the front door opened, Nora turned her head and watched Seth Murdoch enter the room, Elizabeth Bonner attached to his right arm like someone had doused her with Super Glue.
Depositing the woman on the blood red damask sofa, Seth took a hasty step backward. Glancing at Nora, his gaze narrowed. "Are you sick again?"
"No," she said with a pointed look at Richard. “I'm not. But some people around here don't believe me."
Seth's gaze shifted to the blond man standing beside Nora's chair. "Bonner? What's wrong with her?"
Amazed, Nora stared from one man to the other. It was as if she wasn't in the room.
"She seems to be all right," Richard said, with a quick look at her as if to assure himself of the fact. "I simply felt she should rest a while. As her fiancé, it is my duty and privilege to look out for her well being."
Seth went still and rigid. "Don't start that engaged story up again," he warned quietly.
"Murdoch,” Richard said through gritted teeth, "as I've reminded you before, you are a ranch employee. Nothing more.”
"Yeah?" Seth countered, taking a half step closer. "At least I work for a living."
"What are you trying to say?” Richard asked.
"Okay,” Nora announced and jumped up from her chair. "You two knock it off." She looked from one to the other of them, despite the fact that neither man took his eyes off his opponent.
"This is all very upsetting for poor Nora," Elizabeth piped up.
At her words, Richard seemed to relax his stance. Shooting his sister a quick glance, he nodded, then turned to face Nora. "Elizabeth is right, of course,” he said stiffly. "My apologies, my dear.”
Seth snorted.
Nora glared at him. "At least he knows how to apologize," she snapped.
"Probably had more practice," Seth told her.
"Well, really!" Elizabeth gasped.
Richard's jaw tightened again, but he kept quiet.
"Are we finished now?" Nora wanted to know. “Because if we are, I'd like somebody to get me a drink."
All three of the people in the room turned to stare at her.
"What?” she demanded. “No, let me guess. I don't drink, either."
"Never have," Seth agreed.
"Well, I do now," she said and started for the elaborately carved walnut bar on the far side of the room. “And right now, a shot sounds better than coffee.” Lifting one of the cut crystal decanters, she asked of no one in particular, “Join me?”
Seth got his voice back first. "Yeah, I believe I will," he said as he walked toward her with long, hurried strides.
Nora poured a splash of amber liquid into a heavy tumbler, tossed it down her throat, and shuddered at the resulting fire in her blood. Slamming the glass back down on the bar top, she handed the decanter to Seth, then faced the others.
"Are you feeling feverish, dear?" Elizabeth inquired. “Perhaps we should send for the doctor after all."
"No," Nora told her. Glancing from one to the other of them, she studied their faces. She was getting plenty sick and tired of everybody waiting for her to drop into a coma. Didn't the ranch belong to her? Wasn't she the boss? Damn right she was, she told herself and it was high time they all realized it. "Let's get this straight right now. I'm not sick. I don't have a fever. And I will not see the damned doctor. Everybody understand?”
"Nora," Seth swallowed a healthy gulp of liquor then set his glass down. "What everybody understands is, you're not yourself.”
"I am forced to agree with Murdoch," Richard said. "We're only concerned for you, my love."
Seth's jaw tightened at the endearment, but Nora ignored it.
"Concern is one thing," she snapped. “Bulldozing is another.”
"Bulldozing?” Elizabeth echoed.
“You don't send for a doctor every time she faints,” Nora said, with a wave at the other woman.
Richard glanced at his sister, a tight frown on his face.
"My sister is delicate by nature. The slightest upset brings on a case of the vapors."
"Right." This was a losing argument, she thought. The only way to convince these people that she was all right was by showing them over time. If her patience held out.
After taking a deep breath, she said, "You'll just have to take my word for it that I feel fine. Never better.”
Seth's gaze on her narrowed slightly.
"Do I look sick to you?" she asked.
Grudgingly, he admitted, "No. But-"
"No
buts, Clint," she said. Turning slightly so that she could see them all, she went on. "Now, if you guys would just chill out…”
"Chill out?" Seth repeated, cocking his head to watch her.
"Chill," Nora repeated. “To relax. To back up and take it easy."
"What in the hell are you talking about, Nora?" he muttered.
She sighed and shook her head. "Never mind, cowboy. You wouldn't understand." His expression became even more guarded as she went on. "But as long as we're all here,” she paused, “you people might as well know that things are going to be different around this place."
Well, she sure had their attention now. Good. No way was she going to turn into some fainting, weeping, helpless female just because she had been tricked into landing in the middle of the dark ages.
No sir, this tiny corner of Montana was about to get a lesson in women's liberation. And there was no time like the present to get her little revolution off to a flying start.
"First off," she said, giving each of the men a challenging glare, "you're all going to stop treating me like I'm about to drop dead. I am not sick. I am not feverish. I feel fine and that's not going to be changing, so you had better get used to the new and improved me."
"Good heavens," Elizabeth whispered.
"Nora…” Richard started.
“And there are a few other changes too.” She glanced at Elizabeth meaningfully. “Hannah's not going to be trotting up and downstairs carrying meals on trays anymore. From now on, breakfast is at six-thirty in the morning. You can come down and eat or go hungry."
Elizabeth gasped and fell into a chair, her mouth open in astonishment.
Richard's features were completely blank.
Seth watched her, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
Maybe she was going about this all wrong. Perhaps she should have tried to fit into the old Nora's shoes and only gradually made changes. But how long would that have taken? And could she really have forced herself to play the part of a sickly woman for weeks? Maybe months? No. She'd never been one to just laze around. She had to be up and doing something.
The grandfather clock in a corner of the room struck the hour and a series of soft, muffled bongs filled the air. Four o'clock. Wistfully, she realized that if not for a few French fries and a bowling ball, right now she would be sitting at her desk, dictating letters to her secretary and making plans for a weekend at the mountain cabin she had inherited from her parents.
Did people ski in 1875?
"Nora?" Seth asked. "Are you all right?"
She shook herself from her mental wanderings. She'd better watch it or they would begin to think her nuts. "Peachy," she said, turning to look at the dark cowboy staring at her through wary eyes. “As I was saying,” she picked up the dangling thread of their conversation and carried on, "you'll have to learn to deal with this Nora, or you can move on down the road.”
“I'm not going anywhere," he said grimly.
"Neither am I, Kemosabe," she told him and met him glare for glare.
He frowned at her.
She stuck her tongue out at him.
"Nora!" Elizabeth gasped.
“Oh, lighten up,” she said under her breath, then turned toward the kitchen. "Let's see what's for supper. I'm starved."
#
The dreams started that night.
She stood on the side of the road, staring off into the darkness. The forest around her seemed alive with movement. Trees rustled as the wind danced through the leaves. An owl hooted and the small hairs at the back of her neck stood up, eliciting a chill that swept along her spine, leaving her limbs weak.
Where was he? she wondered frantically. He should have been there hours ago. He had promised. He had sworn to come for her at moonrise. The ribbons and flowers she had woven into her knee-length, single black braid were ruined now, like her dreams. She lifted one hand to push the long, heavy rope of hair behind her shoulder, then bent at the waist to stare harder down the winding path through the forest.
She had risked all to meet him at the appointed time. Alone, she had dared the dangers of the night along with the wrath of her father and the man he'd chosen to be her husband. All for the one man who made her feel what no other ever had. Just the thought of him, his kisses, his strong arms wrapped around her, was enough to strengthen her resolve. Surely he wouldn't betray her. Surely he would come.
A distant thunder rolled toward her on the wind. She tensed, straining her ears and muttering a prayer to Saint Genevieve that the roar of sound approaching was the fierce rattle of his horse's hooves upon the dirt path. But another, matching sound was born in the next instant. She turned her head quickly to look back down the road in the direction of her father's keep. Was it possible the castle guards had discovered her absence? Were they even now racing toward her, intent on returning her to her father and the lord she was expected to marry?
Her heartbeat staggered. Her pulse raced and it seemed that the thunderous sounds were surrounding her, invading her soul, pushing her to run. Run to her lover. Run down the road to meet him where he could swing her up onto his mighty horse and carry her far enough away that no one would ever find them. Separate them.
She ran. Her feet, in their soft-soled slippers made barely a whisper of sound. She felt each stone, each pebble strewn in the path, but the twinges of pain she accepted as a small price to pay for the freedom to love. Wind tore at her gown. The flowers in her hair fell behind her, marking her trail with bruised blossoms.
The thunder was closer. He was almost with her. So near. Smiling a welcome, she raced around the bend in the road, arms outstretched. In a blurred instant of sound and moon washed color, she saw him, his pale blue eyes fixed on her, his dear features horrified as he tried to rein in his powerful stallion. But it was too late. In a blinding crash of agony and regret for all the tomorrows she would miss, she went down beneath the warhorse's thrashing hooves.
Nora woke instantly. Gasping for air, she sat straight up in bed and stared blindly at the darkened room around her. Leaning to one side, she scrambled for a match and struck it, drawing in an easier breath as the wavering light took hold. Carefully, she held the flame to the wick of her bedside oil lamp, then replaced the glass chimney. Only when the soft golden light had chased off the shadows of her dreams did she lie back against her pillows and draw the quilt up to her chin.
She'd never had a dream like that in her life. Her breathing ragged, she tried to calm herself, but at the same time, she could almost feel the hot breath of the rearing stallion. She saw moonlight glint off the animal's hooves just before they came down on top of her.
Shivering uncontrollably, Nora hopped out of bed, ran across the room and laid another log onto the low-burning tire. As flames snapped at the fresh fuel, she dropped to the floor, huddling close to the warmth of the hearth. Staring into the blaze, Nora realized that this had been no ordinary dream. For whatever reason, she had just relived— or redied— a death she had experienced in England in 1320.
Boy, it was one thing to remember your past lives. Memory could be a dispassionate thing and the distance of years has its own protection. But actually reliving the most terrifying moment of another life was enough to turn a person's hair white.
Even now, every emotion she had felt at the time was so clear. So powerful. Fear, anxiety, and finally, the exhilaration, the joy that had swept through her when she had heard her lover approaching.
The only thing she hadn’t relived was the pain of dying.
Instantly, an image rose up in her mind. Her lover. The man on the horse. Though most of his features were unclear in her memory, she could see his pale blue eyes as clearly as she had that last night when his gaze had locked with hers in those final moments of horror.
And it was those eyes that haunted her now.
Eyes that looked disturbingly like Seth Murdoch's.
CHAPTER SIX
"Where's Red?" Seth asked as one of the older hands wandered by.
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J.T. stopped dead, swiveled his head toward Seth and grinned, displaying the gold front tooth he was so proud of. Years of working in the sun and wind had creased the older man's face like an often folded map. "He's out in the front pasture with the boss. Been there nigh on an hour, trottin' cattle past her."
"What?" Seth pushed his hat back on his head and took the few steps necessary to clear the side of the barn. He squinted into the late morning sun and stared at the two people in the field.
Young Red, obviously eager to please, was riding his horse back and forth across the pasture grass, moving the small gathered herd nearer to Nora. "Now what do you suppose that crazy female's up to now?" he muttered.
"No tellin' with a woman," J.T. allowed as he stepped up beside Seth. "And this one even more than some I've knowed." Scratching his gray stubbled jaw, he continued, “She sure is different, ain't she?"
Seth shot him a brief look. “Yeah.” Turning his gaze back on the woman who occupied so much of his thoughts lately, he felt that slow, wicked punch of awareness settle in his guts.
"Ain't so much her looks," J.T. said thoughtfully. 'Though she is fill in' out some. But she says the damnedest things, too."
Seth almost groaned. “Like what?"
The grizzled cowboy chuckled to himself and dug in his shirt pocket for the makings of a cigarette. As he smoothed out the paper and shook tobacco flakes into a neat line across the middle, he kept quiet, concentrating.
Seth bit back an oath. There was just no hurrying J.T. when the old cuss was telling a story.
Finally, the older man tucked the end of the cigarette into his mouth and scratched a match into life on the sole of one of his boots. As he puffed away, he talked around the butt end while smoke curled and drifted around his face like old dreams. "Claims she wants to do some shoppin'."
Seth frowned. "What's so strange about that?" he heard himself ask, despite the fact that the old Nora had rarely left the ranch for any reason.
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