Beyond Time (Highland Secret Series) (13 page)

“Not so odd a concept but I do think the shoes are ugly.”

Grace laughed. “You know the castle?”

He nodded, “What of it?”

“In my time, it’s a museum... a place where people can go and see things from the past. Anyway, there are a couple of displays there dedicated to you.

“To me?” he said, surprised.

Grace nodded, “Yes, to you, Robert. Yesterday I saw a pair of shoes there that you have made for your wife.”

Robert frowned in confusion. “I don’t have a wife.”

“Not yet you don’t.”

“What does that mean?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“That’s nonsense.”

“No, it’s not. I shouldn’t have started this conversation. I’m sorry. Please don’t press me on it. I can’t tell you.”

“Will you tell me one day?”

“Perhaps.”

“Robert what did you tell your sister about me?” she said, changing the subject.

“I told her that you are my wife.”

“Your wife? But won’t she wonder why you didn’t tell her you married? Or why I have nothing to wear?”

“Grace, sit down,” he said, pausing to allow her to do as he had asked. “Sarah is deliriously happy for me and hasn’t questioned a thing I have told her. As far as she and the rest of this city are concerned, you are from Derbyshire and I married you two weeks ago at St Mary’s church in Chesterfield.”

“Did you just say St Mary’s church in Chesterfield?”

“I did?”

“Do you know Chesterfield then?”

“Well I know it in this time. I’m afraid I can’t offer much of an opinion on what it is like in your time. Grace, you need to know what I have told Sarah,” he said, bringing her back to their original conversation. “We married in Chesterfield, two weeks ago. I sent a private coach to transport you to York and last night, just outside the city, your coach overturned in the snow and you were robbed by highway men.”

“You’re not just a very handsome man are you?”

“No?”

“No, you’re smart as well,” she said, dropping the blanket from her shoulders and moving to stand in front of him.

His eyes travelled from her face down the length of her body, lingering where the cotton shirt swelled over the rise of her breasts. One dark brow lifted.

“And you are a beautiful woman who is going to teach me many things,” he whispered, in a deep and husky rumble. A faint smile touched his lips. “But first you need to take that shirt off. The cobbler will be here soon. Here,” he said, lifting the gown from the back of the chair, “go and put this on... oh and, Grace, remove that bracelet from your wrist.”

******

CHAPTER 7

He shut the door and stood with his back against it. Grace lifted her head toward him and lazily stretched her legs out in front of the fire.

“It went well with the cobbler,” he said, staring intently across at her.

She weighed his words, trying to decide if he was joking or being serious.

“I suppose it did. If you don’t count the strange looks the man kept giving me. I do believe your cobbler thinks I am a little odd.”

“You are a little odd,” he said, laughing.

She scowled up at him. “That’s not very nice.”

“Grace just under twenty four hours ago you travelled nearly four hundred years into the past. That’s a little odd even by my reckoning.”

Her face lost its scowl and she too laughed. He moved to sit beside her on the floor.

“Would you care to share?”

“Share?”

“Your thoughts.”

“Oh, sorry. I was thinking about my daughter.”

“You have a child?”

Grace nodded and reached for her purse. “Jenny,” she said, showing the photograph to Robert.

“That’s an impressive portrait,” he said.

“It’s not really a portrait, it’s called a photograph.”

“Whatever it’s called, it’s very good. You have a beautiful daughter.”

“Thank you.”

“I need to open the posting house tomorrow. Would you like to come with me?”

Grace slid the photograph back into her purse.

“Yes, Robert, I would like that very much,” she said, wiping a single tear from her cheek.

For a moment, Grace was paralyzed with fear. Despite the deep lying snow, the city bustled around them.

“What if they suspect?” she whispered.

“No one is going to know, Grace. Just relax,” he said, reaching for her hand and tucking it safely in his.

With her free hand she tried to hoist her skirts up, out of the snow, but it was too deep and the hem became soaked. It clung to her legs, wet and heavy around her calves. The icy wind whipped around her ears and Grace started to shiver violently with the cold. Robert wrapped his arm around her for warmth, hurrying her along the street until finally they were on Stonegate.

“Nearly there.”

“I know,” she replied, through chattering teeth.

He slid the key into the lock, turned it and swung the door open, pushing her through it.

“I’ll get the fire going.”

The post house was in complete darkness but Robert moved swiftly toward the fireplace and set to work immediately on a fire.

“There are some blankets upstairs and a lamp on the bar.”

Her eyes adjusted quickly to the darkness and she spotted the lamp easily enough. Reaching into her pocket she extracted a lighter and lit the wick. Robert vaulted to his feet and spun round to face her.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m just lighting the lamp. Why? What’s wrong?”

“Grace you can’t do that. You must never do that again. Do you hear me?”

She nodded fervently but didn’t understand.

“What have I done, Robert? I don’t understand.”

“Whatever you just used to light that wick, doesn’t belong here, Grace. It looks like magic.”

Her eyes widened as realization dawned.

“I didn’t think, I’m... sorry.”

He nodded and held out his hand.

“I know, give me the fire tube, Grace.”

“It’s called a lighter,” she said, placing it in his upturned palm.

“Never mind what it’s called. You won’t use it again.”

“So how am I supposed to get fires going then?”

“The same manner as I do,” he said, handing her a flint.

“You have got to be joking?”

“I have never been more serious about anything. You will learn to use it.”

“Can’t I just use the lighter in the house?”

“No.”

“That’s crazy. I have a bag full of them and no one is going to see me using it in the house.”

“Grace, I said, no. Once... that is all it will take, and you will be on a stake with a fire at your feet.”

She drew a deep breath and straightening her shoulders turned toward the stairs.

“Right, well I guess I’ll go and get a blanket then. OK to use the lamp I lit with the lighter?”

“Sarcasm isn’t an attractive quality, Grace. You know perfectly well that I won’t stop you using the lamp and you understand why I’ve taken the lighter off you. Stop sulking and behave like an adult.”

A moment’s thought told her he was right, told her that she was being childish and that he was only looking after her. But she had slipped the lighter into the pocket of her dress hoping to impress him, hoping to bring something of use to his life. Instead he had slapped her down like a naughty child. Humiliation, more than anger, burned in her face as she climbed the last step to the landing.

The rooms at the top of the stairs were familiar and her mood lightened a bit as she passed the door to what would be Harry’s room, nearly four hundred years from now. Not much would change with the building over the years. Plasterboard would be added to smooth out the walls, a carpet here and there, but essentially the space would remain the same.

Still shivering, Grace found a pile of roughly woven blankets and wrapped one around her shoulders. It had been kind of Robert’s sister to lend her the gown but it was no more suited to the bitter cold and heavy snow than her jeans and sweatshirt had been. She was going to need a coat if she were to have any chance of surviving the winter.

Back in the main room of the post house Grace warmed herself in front of the fire whilst Robert moved around the room lighting the oil lamps.

“Why is there no one staying in the rooms upstairs?”

“I closed up when I made the journey to Derbyshire two weeks ago.”

“Are you expecting it to be busy today?”

“Yes. Every room in the city has been filled.”

“Do you just leave the place at night then and go home?”

“No. I live here.”

“Will you be living here tonight?”

“Yes and so will you.”

“Where do we sleep then?”

He nodded to a door off the main building.

“Through there. Patrons are upstairs.”

“Can I do anything to help?”

“No. I’m ready to open the doors now.”

“Can I help once you open?”

“What is it you would like to do?”

“I don’t know. Whatever you need help with. What about the rooms upstairs? Could I clean them up a bit?”

“If you wish, but Grace, you are not to use anything that doesn’t belong in this time. If you are going to work you do it in the way of my time, not yours.”

“Fine,” she said, annoyed at him for making reference to the lighter again.

“There is fresh bedding in the room in which you found the blanket. I would be obliged if you would prepare the beds, but leave the fires.”

“Why?”

“A waste of fuel and they are a hazard. Patrons pay for a bed, not warmth.”

They both turned to the door as the sound of arriving trade gathered outside.

“Shall I get the doors?”

“No, I will do it.”

“Right, well I’ll go upstairs and sort the rooms out then,” she said, leaving Robert to his customers.

Grace pulled herself upright, placing her hands in the small of her back. Making beds the old fashioned way was hard work and it had been a long time since she had put anything like this amount of physical effort into household chores. Having swept and dusted the rooms and made up the beds, Grace was happy with the results. She would have liked to have put some flowers in the rooms. But on further reflection she dismissed the idea, thinking that Robert was unlikely to approve.

Turning to leave, she gasped in surprise as she noticed a man lazily propped between the doorframes.

“Can I help you?”

“I thought the price was extortionate,” he said, giving her a long hard stare, “but I don’t so much mind the fee if there’s a little extra on offer.”

“Mr. Hamilton’s prices are fair. There isn’t a room to be had anywhere in the city,” she said, defensively.

“As I said, I don’t mind the fee... now,” he replied, sauntering toward her.

Nervously she stepped backwards, positioning herself behind a chair.

“I need to be going now,” she stammered.

He drew closer, his eyes wild and challenging. He kicked the chair to the side and grabbed at her. She stepped back into the bed frame. Trapped between him and the bed, she froze.

“Playing hard to get?” he said, making another grab for her gown and pulling her hard against him. She fought him wildly, but his grip was too firm. He took a handful of her hair in his free hand and yanked her head backwards.