by Paige Elwood
Her rich brown eyes met his own, and relief, albeit tempered with annoyance, washed over her delicate features. She strode purposefully over to his table and sat herself down, facing him as he sipped his ale. He caught the telltale spark of fire in her eyes and braced himself for the onslaught.
“You look much more proper now, my lady,” he said amiably before she could begin her rapid-fire questioning again.
Sophie snorted. “Your lady?”
“It is simply the proper way to address you,” he said, amused at her tone. “Would you like some ale?” He tipped his tankard slightly towards her.
“No thank you, the innkeeper’s wife gave me some earlier.” She fixed him with a steely gaze. Her warm brown eyes could be surprisingly cold, he noticed. “Thank you for paying for my room. I appreciate your help, but I know you had something to do with bringing me here.” She crossed her arms over her chest in an authoritative stance.
Edouard quirked an eyebrow. “I’m sure I do not know what you mean,” he said, evenly. His heart beat fast in his chest. He needed to get this idea out of her head as soon as possible.
“Don’t play dumb. That ring brought me here, and your ring is obviously part of a matching pair to this one.”
She pointed at the ring dangling around his neck, and he couldn’t help but bring his hand up to touch it. The warmth it was emanating was much more pronounced than before because she was so close to him with the other ring. He consciously moved his hand away.
“I am not dumb. I am speaking to you very clearly,” he replied, confused at the accusation.
“No, I mean you are pretending to know nothing,” she explained, exasperation showing clearly. She waved away the interruption to her flow of thought. “I know you have something to do with it, don’t lie to me.”
“I do not lie.” He placed his hand on his chest, as though swearing an oath. “I do not understand what you accuse me of.” He gave her a sad look, as though her accusations had hurt him.
Sophie ignored this, continuing the interrogation. “Your ring, why is it just like mine?” She waved her hand with her own ring twinkling on it and narrowed her eyes, holding his gaze steadily.
“It is a family ring. My father had it made for me by the best jeweler in Paris.”. Her stare remained unwavering, and his pulse quickened. “It does look like yours,” he conceded. “Was it made by Monsieur Thomas?”
Her furrowed brow relaxed slightly. “I don’t know, an old man gave it to me in my time. He said it was a relic from the Notre Dame.” She looked down at the ring, twisting it on her finger. Edouard resisted the urge to touch his own again.
“The cathedral?” He widened his eyes to demonstrate surprise. “Then your ring must be very rare and more valuable than my own.” He shrugged. “I simply saw you running around and looking confused. I wanted to help, a woman alone on the streets of Paris dressed like that could find herself in danger. I just wish to help you, but I do not understand when you say you are from a different time. Are you a witch?”
Sophie laughed. “There’s no such thing as witches.”
“Then how can such a feat be possible?” he asked, pleased that he seemed to have derailed her suspicious questioning for now.
“If I knew I would send myself back,” she said miserably.
“But you are here, and I am here. Come, take a walk with me and I will show you Paris. I have friends here who will put you up in much nicer lodgings.” He gestured around at the clean but basic inn. “It will be more in keeping with a proper lady. I do not know what your home is like where you are from, but I think you will like my friend’s home.”
He smiled at her. Sophie paused, not returning the smile, and he wondered if she would turn down the offer. He would need to get Sabine to work on her if she refused to leave the inn. Suddenly, she shrugged, having seemingly decided. “Yes, why not, it’s not like I have anything else to do.”
“Excellent. Come with me, and I will show you the city.” He took her small, delicate hand into his large one and led her back out onto the street.
Her hand fit his perfectly, and it was as soft as any noblewoman’s. He wondered what her life was like in her own time. She seemed to be more comfortable now that she was dressed like the other women and had shoes on her feet. She certainly walked a little faster than she had previously, and her earlier curiosity was magnified as she craned her neck to see the different sights.
They strolled slowly back down the streets they’d taken earlier, heading back in the direction of the Quai. The cathedral watched over them as they walked, and Edouard could feel its gaze upon him as his ring vibrated against his chest. He wondered if Sophie’s ring was doing the same. He guessed it was by the way she occasionally touched it absent-mindedly with her other hand. They walked mostly in companionable silence, seemingly both understanding they were heading back towards where they had first met.
“You didn’t seem to have much trouble believing that I am from the future,” she said. “Do you not think I’m crazy?”
Edouard shrugged. “There are many things we do not know. Yes, I think it is a strange story, but you seem to have your wits about you, so I have no reason to not believe your story. At least, now that you have your hair combed, you appear to have your wits about you,” he teased. She slapped him playfully on the arm and he grinned. He liked her fire.
When they came upon the small market, she was fascinated by the array of goods on offer from both local merchants and ones that had traveled across the seas. A wide array of spices, cloth, wines, cheese and more was on offer, and the market bustled with women carrying baskets full of produce.
“Do you like wine?” he asked her.
“I do,” she said. “More than I like ale, but do you not drink water here, or perhaps tea?”
“I do not know what ‘tea’ is,” Edouard said, “but yes we drink water, of course,” he gestured at the Seine. “Who does not drink water?”
“It’s just I had ale with my breakfast,” she said, seemingly finding this unusual.
“Most people enjoy ale more than water, and some enjoy wine. If you ask for water, you will get water,” he explained. “What is tea?”
Sophie wrinkled her nose, thinking. “It’s dried leaves of a tea plant that grows in India. You put hot water on it and it flavors the water.”
“Like a potion from a healer?” Edouard asked.
“No. I don’t think so. In my time we have doctors to cure illness with medication.”
“I do not know ‘medication.” Edouard said. “We also have doctors, but they are expensive for common people. Common people, and sometimes even nobles, visit healers for potions to treat their ills. They often give herbs to ward off and cure illness.”
“Like herbal tea?” Sophie said. “Never mind,” she added at the confused look upon his face. “I’m glad there is water.”
“So, you do not want wine?” he asked, unsure.
“I didn’t say that,” she laughed. “I do like wine,” she added at his still confused expression.
He purchased a skein of wine from a southern merchant, and a bread and a wheel of smooth white goat cheese wrapped carefully in cloth from another. Lunch purchased, he guided her across to the banks of the Seine.
They took a seat on a sizeable rock that looked out across the Seine to Notre Dame. Edouard passed Sophie the skein. She took a sip of the wine, and passed it back to him. He savored the sweet liquid as it quenched his thirst and handed her a hunk of bread with goat cheese. She sniffed at it cautiously and then, deciding it smelled safe, took a bite.
“What do you think of Paris?” he asked her.
“It’s quieter than in my time. And larger. The cathedral is still standing in excellent condition, and the streets are very busy with cafes and stalls, and tourists,” she said, gazing out at Notre Dame.
“Tourists?” Edouard asked, unfamiliar with the term.
“People who visit different places for fun.”
“Is it be
tter, or not, with less people and buildings?”
“I miss my world. But this Paris is beautiful, just in a different way.” She took another bite of bread and cheese.
“My mother loved to walk around Paris,” he said, handing her the wine.
She took a sip, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and handed it back to him. “Are you close to your mother?”
“She passed away giving birth to my stillborn brother,” Edouard said, remembering the day like it was yesterday.
“I’m sorry. That must be difficult.” Sympathy shone in her expressive eyes. Edouard marveled at the range of emotions that had played out through those eyes since she’d arrived in his time. There were more that he wanted to draw out of her.
“It is common in my time,” he said sadly.
“So I have heard,” Sophie said. “I don’t suppose it makes the loss less painful, though.”
She pointed at the cathedral, changing the difficult subject. “I wanted to visit Notre Dame in my time, but it would be even better to visit it now. Could we go there?”
Edouard suspected she had an idea that the cathedral might have played a part in her arrival, and therefore her return to her time. He shook his head. “Not today, we have much to do in getting you settled in your lodgings. I will take you there soon, I promise.”
He couldn’t take her to Notre Dame yet. It was too soon. He stood and held out his hand to help her up. “Come. I will take you to your new home for the time being.”
She took his hand, and he pulled her to her feet. She stumbled slightly and landed against his chest. He caught and steadied her, his heart beating like the wings of a hummingbird as her cheek pressed to his chest. They separated awkwardly, and her cheeks were flushed as he helped her off the bank.
Madame Petellier’s home was close to the outskirts of the city, and Edouard guided Sophie through the streets of houses to their destination. Their earlier pleasant chatter had vanished, replaced by a tension that neither of them seemed willing to be the first to break.
As they walked down a quiet side street, Sophie’s demeanor abruptly changed. She spun to face Edouard, startling him. He was about to ask if something was wrong when the warmth from his ring became like fire and he thought it might burn right through his chest.
Chapter 13
Sophie had been pondering ever since they’d sat at the river bank. She’d come to Paris for a fling, hadn’t she? Here she was, with this very handsome man, and if she’d met Edouard in modern Paris she’d have certainly hoped that her fling might be with him. If she was stuck in this time, and that was completely out of her control, then maybe she should seize back some kind of control and go ahead with that fling.
Passionate affairs were passionate affairs all over the world and in every time, surely? She might as well have some fun while she was here. She’d wanted a no commitment affair, and this was definitely no commitment—you couldn’t commit to someone from a different time and place. He might not even be real, but she was here, and he was here, so why not? She couldn’t deny he was very attractive. It was perfect, really.
She spun to face him, and pressed him against the wall, landing her lips softly against his. The ring on her finger burned hotter as she did so, but she barely registered it. He was motionless at first, possibly startled. But then, his lips moved against hers, and his hands came around her back to pull her closer to him.
Sophie sank into the kiss. It was the most passionate kiss she’d ever given, and she was putting her all into it. His response was less than she’d hoped for. Although he pulled her in, almost as a reflex, he made no move to deepen the kiss, and it felt like he wasn’t really into it. Sophie pulled away, embarrassed now that she’d assumed he would be into a fling with her. She felt like she may have ruined something by jumping in. She was angry with Eduard and herself.
“Sorry,” she said, pulling back. “I don’t know what I was thinking, let’s forget it happened.”
“No, it was… nice…” Eduard said.
Sophie’s cheeks heated. She’d kissed him as passionately as she could, and it was…nice? Really? That’s the best reaction she could provoke?
He seemed to sense her mood. “Really, it was nice, I am just not ready for that sort of thing.”
“That sort of thing?” Sophie said.
First, it was…nice. Now, I’m ‘that sort of thing,’ Sophie thought. Great. Perfect. I’m a nice floozy. What am I doing? I am all kinds of messed up!
“Yes, to be close to a woman,” he said. “I have been burned before in the past and I do not wish to be hurt again.”
Sophie opened her mouth to tell him she just wanted a fling, nothing serious, but then closed it again. Perhaps relationships were taken more seriously in this time, and she didn’t want to dwell on the embarrassing kiss. She just wanted to forget it ever happened. “Let’s just forget all about it,” she said with false cheerfulness. “Where is this house you’ve told me about?”
They walked in awkward silence to the Petellier house, Sophie’s insides churning with embarrassment and regret. Edouard tried to make some small talk with her about the houses as they walked, but she didn’t respond. It’s not a house, it’s more like a mansion, Sophie thought, as they stopped outside a colossal Gothic structure that made her hotel look like a dollhouse.
“This is your friend’s house?” she asked, gaping up at the enormous structure.
“Yes,” he said. “They have servants who will treat you like royalty here. They have bathtubs, a chef to cook the best food, maids to help you dress, fine clothes. You will be happier here, I think.”
“Thank you.” Sophie smiled. What an adventure to stay in such a grand home. She wondered if this mansion was still standing in modern day Paris. She hoped it was. What a shame it would be to lose this lovely house to the ravages of time.
She approached the house holding on to Edouard’s arm. She expected a servant to answer the door when he knocked, but instead a middle-aged woman with dark hair intricately coiled on her head, wearing a beautiful coffee colored gown greeted them. She kissed both Edouard’s cheeks effusively and then did the same to Sophie.
“You must be Sophie,” she said. “Ma Cherie, Edouard told us to expect you, but he did not tell us you were so beautiful!”
“Thank you,” Sophie said, blushing at the compliment.
“I will send for your things,” Edouard said to Sophie.
“I don’t have any,” she said, confused.
“Then I will leave you in the capable hands of Madame Petellier, and she will see to it that you have whatever you need,” he said.
Madame Petellier shooed him out of the door, leaving Sophie standing awkwardly, unsure what to do or where to go. Closing the door after Edouard, the effusive brunette grabbed Sophie’s hand and pulled her up a huge set of stairs. Ornate tapestries lined the walls in richly colored thread.
“We will get you your own things,” Madame Petellier assured her, “But for now it is almost time for dinner and I think you are the same size as Isabeau. You can wear some of her clothes this evening.”
“Thank you,” Sophie mumbled, a little overwhelmed. Keep it together, she thought. This is crazy, but let’s just roll with it for now.
They stopped outside a huge door, one of several in a vast corridor that was also lined with rich tapestries depicting a procession of some kind. The embroidery was fantastic, but she didn’t get a chance to study it as she was whisked into an enormous room with a four-poster bed surrounded by silk curtains. A large bath was placed behind some silk screens in the far corner of the room. The floor was still stone, but an enormous rug covered most of it. It wasn’t as plush as her hotel carpets, but overall it made the hotel room seem disappointing in comparison, and the inn she’d woken up in look like a hovel!
“I will be back in a moment,” Madame Petellier said to her before sweeping out of the room.
The heavy door swung closed behind her, leaving Sophie alone in the grand
room. More tapestries adorned the walls in this room, and they appeared to show scenes, like a storybook, but some sections were hidden behind enormous oak armoires and chests.
Sophie stepped up to where the ‘story’ seemed to start, at the point next to the door. There was a handsome young man, dark-haired, dancing with a dark-haired girl in the center of a room as onlookers watched and cheered them on.
Suddenly the door swung open again, making Sophie jump. Madame Petellier appeared with two servants carrying enormous jugs of hot water. They proceeded to fill the bath, and Madame Petellier swept in behind them carrying a blue gown of fine material with small flowers embroidered around the hem. She laid it on the bed, and Sophie touched the material, admiring its softness. It was beautiful, and much softer than the dress she wore at the moment.
She was ushered to the bath and the screens placed to preserve her modesty as she undressed and lowered herself into the water. Sophie could hear the three women speaking in hushed tones as she bathed. It was a strange experience to be bathing in the same room as other people, regardless of the privacy screens.
Sophie closed her eyes, imagining she was back home. The bizarreness of possibly being in a dream and daydreaming about not being in that dream made her giggle a little. There was a large bar of lavender-scented soap on a stand next to the bath. She sniffed it cautiously.
Lavender always made her think of elderly people, but she bet it smelled a lot better than she did right now. Besides, lavender was supposed to be relaxing, wasn’t it? She could do with some of that right now!
She lathered up and took her time washing. It was the first time since landing in this nightmare that she’d been comfortable. After a while, though, the water started to cool, so she got out of the bath and wrapped herself in the thin linen cloth that seemed to serve as a towel.