Though she’d found the pizza he had delivered an oddity, she’d eaten heartily. She’d barely finished her second glass of merlot when she’d yawned, curled up in a little ball, sleepily asking him not to let her sleep for long. That had been hours ago. Willing to accept her wrath later when she woke in exchange for giving her restful sleep, he sat quietly working and keeping an eye on her.
He even forced himself not to notice the way the robe gaped in the front, revealing one small, pink-tipped breast. Had he once thought large breasts made a woman more attractive? It was all he could do to take his eyes from the sight. But a gentleman, as she had told him so many times, would avert his gaze. And so he sat staring at a computer screen instead.
Restoring an historic home was a good deal different than simply gutting and remodeling. He wanted it to look exactly as it had when Josette lived here. Finding the right wood, the right fixtures and furniture would be like a scavenger hunt, but he intended to find them, or at the very least have them recreated. The kitchen was another story, since it wasn’t attached to the house in her time. Keeping it efficient enough for modern day use but blending it in with the period would take some thought. He hadn’t been this motivated about a challenge in a long time.
Finally, unable to resist, he googled her name. Josette Beaumont, The Virginia Rose, the first site began. All the information appeared to be the same as the last time he’d checked until he got to the bottom. Instead of being held prisoner and eventually hanged, or shot for killing the general, it said she simply disappeared, never to be seen or heard from again.
Gooseflesh broke out along his arms and for a moment his heart gave a leap forward. Disappeared? As in relocated to another century—permanently? Or disappeared as in the general went too far one night, accidentally killed her and buried her body where it would never be found?
He wiped a hand down his face. Maybe he watched too much television, read too many crime novels.
It was entirely possible she might run away.
But when? If he took her back, there was no telling how soon she would disappear. Even if he left her alone for only a day, or just a few hours, he might never see her again.
Josette sighed, shifting to her back on the blanket and raising one arm over her head. She was so beautiful, her porcelain skin such a stark contrast to the dark hair that spilled behind her head. He thought of those coffee-dark eyes, snapping with anger when he made her angry, or shining with laughter when he amused her. He didn’t want there to be another day—hell, another second—in his life that didn’t include her.
If Josette wouldn’t agree to stay here with him, he’d just have to move to eighteen sixty two with her.
****
Morning had come and gone, and still Jamie lay tangled with Josette in the blankets before the fireplace. Outside rain pattered against the windows but if there was a chill in the room, he didn’t notice it.
Josette’s pale hand was twined with his and he studied it in the firelight that flickered beside them.
“Jamie, I have to go,” she said. “My clothes must have been dry hours ago.”
He sighed inwardly. He’d stalled her as long as he could, with food, wine, lovemaking. It was time to lay his cards on the table. “I don’t want you to go just yet.”
She pressed a kiss to his bare shoulder. “I know. And I’m reluctant to leave, but—”
“But what?” he shifted so that he faced her. “Who’s waiting for you, Josette? General Stillwater? A hangman?”
“I don’t belong in your time. We both know that.”
“I’m beginning to think I don’t belong in it, either.”
Her dark eyes widened. “What are you saying?”
“I’m asking you to wait. Just a day or two. I need time to put some things in order, take care of a few people and then I’ll go with you.”
“For how long?”
“Forever.”
She sat up abruptly, pulling the blanket with her. “That’s insane! Jamie—you can’t. Your life is here. How do you expect to give up your modern gadgets and computing boxes and plumbing, and—”
He took both her hands in his. “Calm down a minute.”
“Do not tell me to calm down when you’re talking like a mad man.”
“I’ve given it a lot of thought. You don’t like this century, you’ve said so yourself. And if you won’t make the jump permanently to my time then I’ll move to yours.”
“I won’t ask you to do that.”
“Then don’t. But dammit, in case you haven’t figured it out, I’m in love with you. Whether you like it or not, I’m going back with you. To stay.”
“Your life is here.”
“My life is wherever you are.”
She scrambled to her feet, tugging a blanket from beneath him to wrap around her. “I won’t let you do this. You’re not in love with me Jamie. I won’t allow it.”
He couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him. “You won’t allow it?”
“You know very well what the future holds for me, for Southerners.” She grabbed her dress from where it had been left to dry, then turned to look for her under things. “Do you really want to sacrifice everything you have to become part of a dying cause? To share your life with a woman who has no future?”
He rose and in deference to her modesty, tucked a blanket about his waist. “The question is, if you know it’s a dying cause and you know your life is in danger, why the hell are you in such a hurry to go back?”
Her dark hair fell over her face when she bent to scoop her undergarments off the floor and when she rose, she didn’t look at him.
Understanding rocketed through him. “You have a mission to complete.”
She still didn’t look at him.
He stepped closer to her. “Josette, answer me.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He took hold of her shoulders, turning her to face him. “That’s why you were in such a hurry to go back last night. And why you’re picking a fight with me now. You’re in a hurry to get back because you have information to pass on.”
She closed her eyes as if staring at him was too difficult. “Please, just let me go. Let me do what needs to be done.”
“But you already know it won’t do any good. And that eventually you’ll be caught and hanged. That’s what I don’t understand.” He pulled her into his arms. “You’re safe here, Josette. Stay with me.”
Her shoulders trembled and moisture met his bare skin where she buried her face. “We’d be miserable in each other’s times.” She said against his skin. “You could never survive in mine and I’d never make it on my own in yours.”
“On your own?” he pulled her in tighter and pressed a kiss to her hair. “Is that what you think?”
“I saw the image of that woman you…dated. I don’t look anything like her. I’m not the sort of woman you want, Jamie. Right now I’m something elusive, something you can’t have. How long would you be satisfied with just me?”
“Forever,” he promised, taking her face between his hands. “Whether forever is the rest of this century or just a few months in yours, I’m going wherever you go.”
“You’d be sacrificing too much.”
“What would I be giving up? My parents died in a plane crash ten years ago. I have no brothers or sisters, no living relatives. Everything I have is material. You’re the only real thing I’ve cared about in a long time, Josette. There’s nothing to tie me here. All I need is time to put some affairs in order to make things easier for Len.”
“I can’t ask you to do that.”
“Then don’t. Let me do what I want to do.”
The phone buzzed. Jamie had hated to turn the damn thing on this morning, but one day of hiding out was all he could afford. A glance at the caller ID showed the name of one of his attorneys. He groaned inwardly. No doubt it was about the Ashley lawsuit. Now what was she demanding?
“Josette, I have to take this. We’
ll finish talking as soon as I’m done.” Not wanting to bother her with his financial concerns, he stepped outside.
Josette finished dressing. She hated arguing with him, but she had the odd feeling he wasn’t being entirely truthful. Oh he intended to go back to her time all right but she didn’t believe that he hadn’t smuggled—goggled—whatever it was he called it—her information recently. Knowing Jamie he hadn’t liked what he found and was on some noble tangent about rescuing her.
He simply didn’t understand that she wasn’t afraid to die, that the cause was more important than her own life. Like him, she had lost everything and had nothing of value left to lose.
She finished dressing and paced across the floor. From outside the window, she could see Jamie talking with his little gadget pressed to his ear. He was so poised, so confident—so sure of himself in this environment. He belonged here. Just as she belonged in her own time. But how could she convince him of that? How could she tell the man she loved that her cause was more important than their feelings for one another?
There had to be some way to convince him.
She turned from the windows. Across the room near Jamie’s clothes something glinted in the sunlight that streamed through the windows. Something shiny. The key!
Her breath caught in her throat and without pausing to think, she hurried across the room and snatched it up. A pen and paper lay nearby from where he’d taken notes last night of her observations about the house. She took up the pen and quickly scrawled a note on the paper. Then, before he could finish his call and come inside, she ran toward the stairs, the key firmly clutched in her hand.
Her pace never slowed as she raced up the steps and into her bedroom. Uncertain of exactly how or where Jamie traveled back and forth, she closed her eyes and moved purposefully across the room.
She felt the transformation take place, not the journey itself but the change in the room. Sebastian’s meow of greeting inspired her to open her eyes. She was in her own room, in her own time. As if nothing had ever changed. A pang of sadness stabbed at her. This was what she wanted, wasn’t it?
An arm snaked about her neck from behind.
She’d recognize General Stillwater’s stench from a mile away. “Well Mrs. Beaumont. How kind of you to return. We have so much to discuss.”
Chapter Eight
“I can’t let you do this. I’ll always love you. Josette.”
Even now, more than an hour since he’d found the damn note and searched the entire house and grounds, Jamie couldn’t believe it.
The blankets still lay tangled on the floor, barely cooled from their bodies having spent the night wrapped in them. The smell of her still lingered on his skin, and yet she was gone…as completely as if she’d never existed.
If it wasn’t for the note, he could easily be convinced he’d imagined the whole thing.
Except for the missing key. It was the only thing he had to convince him he wasn’t losing his mind this past week.
She’d taken the key and left.
Why?
The word echoed in his brain.
She hadn’t wanted him to follow her, but he’d never dreamed she’d take the one thing that linked them to one another. She’d taken the only key to the portal that led him from his time to hers. She hadn’t just left—she’d cut off all means of contact.
The back of his throat ached and a sense of disbelief, like a numb cloud that refused to allow his mind to accept what happened, settled over him. He’d felt the same sensation when his parents’ plane had gone down over the Atlantic.
The sound of the front door opening, a small gust of cool morning air reached him. As did familiar slow, heavy footsteps.
He didn’t look up as Len’s no-nonsense low heeled shoes appeared in front of him.
“Carlos tells me you won’t let the restoration team in.”
He didn’t answer, merely stared at the fire that had nearly burned out in the fireplace.
“The film crew is coming back tomorrow. We have to be able to show some progress and we lost a day of work yesterday.”
The sunlight streaming through the windows reflected a lone hair caught on the blanket. Long, curly and dark, it could only belong to Josette.
“What happened to Mata Hari?”
He held up the strand, studying it in the bright morning light. The only tangible evidence she’d ever been here. “Gone.”
“Gone—back to where she came from?”
He nodded.
“You did the right thing, Jame, sending her back.”
“I didn’t send her. She left.”
Len knelt down to face him. He started into the caring, aging face and remembered how gently she’d broken the news about his parents to him, how she’d picked up the pieces of what was left of his life and put them back together. Her love and affection had kept him going during those dark days; he owed it to her now to pull himself together.
“There was a key.” He made a twisting gesture with his hand. “It unlocked the portal between our two times. She took it with her.” He shrugged one shoulder and forced himself to sound nonchalant.
“And there’s no other key?”
He frowned. “Another key?” Why hadn’t he considered that possibility before? If it meant tearing down every wall, tearing up every floorboard and stripping the house to its very frame, he’d find another damn key.
****
“Reverend Hucakbee is dead.”
Seated in the bedroom, Josette stared defiantly at the wall as the General paced, hands clasped behind his back, reminding her of a bantam cock. He seemed certain he had her right where he wanted her.
“A Union soldier disguised as a deserter caught him last night. He fell nicely into our trap, he never suspected a thing. He was hanged at sunrise.”
Josette closed her eyes. She tried to swallow but her throat had gone dry. An image of Huckabee swinging by the neck swam before her vision before the general appeared in front of her.
“The same fate awaits you, my dear.”
“Perhaps it would, if I were a spy. I’ve told you repeatedly I am a Southerner. Nothing more.”
He straightened, and then waved away the uniformed men who had been standing by.
“I came to your room last night.”
A cold chill rushed over her. So if she hadn’t been with Jamie, last night the General would have forced himself on her.
“You weren’t here. I had the room searched.”
She closed her eyes again, attempting to swallow once more. And failing. What if they’d found the food in its strange wrappers, the bottles of water and the gadgets Jamie had given her? They were hidden away among her personal things, but a thorough search would have turned them up.
“Your window was open. I’d never guess a lady would take to climbing trees but that’s the only way you could have gotten out of this room without being detected. I don’t know how you got back in so quietly this morning, but I’m having my men cut down that tree as we speak.”
Her gaze flew to his face. So that was how Sebastian’s tree had disappeared.
“I’m giving you one last chance. Place yourself under my protection or you’ll end up like your friend the reverend. If not worse.”
A shudder of revulsion swept through her.
“The guards at Old Capital aren’t nearly as patient as I am.” The General leaned in closer. “You can become my whore—or theirs. The choice is yours, my dear.”
“I’d die before I’d allow the likes of you to touch me.”
Swiveling on one foot like a solider on maneuvers, he pivoted and headed toward the door. “That, Mrs. Beaumont, is one thing I won’t allow you do to. I’ve been more than patient. Tonight and every night hereafter you will share my bed, be my willing mistress. And if ever I suspect information has been leaked to the rebel army, I’ll snap your pretty neck like a twig and bury you in an unmarked grave.”
The bedroom door closed with a loud click that echoed in the room
.
The events of the previous day swam in her mind, mingling with the see-saw noise of a saw outside her window. Sebastian’s tree was coming down. Stillwater would bury her in an unmarked grave. Was that why Jamie didn’t know where she was buried? Because the general had made certain no one would ever find her?
She put a hand to her forehead to stop the spinning. It was all starting to happen, all beginning to unravel.
She stared down at the key in her palm. She could easily return to Jamie, tell him she’d made a mistake and that she loved him. But he’d become too entangled in her life already and if what he suspected was true, her life would end soon anyway.
She would fulfill her destiny, kill the general and escape.
****
The stairs that led to the third floor were still in need of replacing, but with the sounds of the restoration team working below, Jamie carefully climbed them toward the servant’s quarters. The mid-day sun had already heated the area to stifling. He didn’t expect to find anything up here. But on the outside chance there was a bureau or dresser—or even just a rusty old nail in the wall—that held a twin key, he was willing to suffer the heat.
Dust motes danced in the air as sunlight forced its way through a cracked, sun-faded stained glass window.
He found it hard to believe servants had actually slept up here. If it was this warm in mid-March what had it been like in August?
He stepped carefully across the floor, using a flashlight to highlight each area before walking across, half expecting to go through the floorboards at any time.
Shining the light across the room, it lit upon something that made his heart lurch. He had never guessed it was up here, would have thought some antique dealer would have taken it years ago.
Moving around loose floorboards and missing planks, he made his way across the room. It was covered with a century’s worth of dust, but he’d know it anywhere. Josette’s bed. At least part of it. Sticking out from beneath an old sheet.
He pushed the sheet off, coughing as dust filled the air. The bed had been dismantled but it was all there.
He lovingly fondled a carved spindle, fingers following the curves and dips in the wood. Somehow, it was like finding a part of her, a piece of their time together.
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