Borrowed Vows (28 page)

“I have no such intention, any more than I mean to inquire exactly how you managed to be in New York three days ago. The voyage across the Atlantic takes at least three weeks, and that’s when the winds are fair. I imagine you have an oversized broomstick.” This was added drolly.

“No,” she replied with a small smile, “but it doesn’t matter really, because future methods of travel have no bearing on what I’m telling you.”

“Why? Because an impossible three days for such a long voyage is a glaring slip of the tongue?”

“Could you explain everything about your time to someone medieval?” she countered. “That person would know nothing of stone-hardened highways, swift mail coaches, and so on. Nor would he know of things like telegraphs, which are quite an impressive novelty to you, but virtually obsolete to me.”

He smiled a little. “The point is made, so pray continue.”

She looked anxiously at him. “Do you believe
any
of what I’m saying?”

“What do you think?”

“The you imagine you’re humoring a madwoman.”

“No, Rosalind, not mad, just clever. I’m put in mind of Scheherazade, who was also mistress of amusing tales.”

“Scheherazade told beguiling stories because she wished to earn the love of the man who heard them,” Kathryn pointed out quickly.

“Oh,
touché
, my dear. I had no idea you were mistress of the swift riposte as well, but it so happens that Scheherazade saved her life with her cleverness.”

“I am intent upon saving
our
happiness, Dane,” she said quietly.

“I could almost believe you, but then I’ve never really known you, have I?” His tone was bitter.

“How
can
you know someone you only met for the first time a day or so ago?”

“That’s what you’d have me believe. Well, you insisted on saying your piece to the end, so perhaps you should continue.”

“All right. The phone call Richard received purported to be from me, and was full of such conciliatory overtures that he called back and left a message for me, saying he longed for me to go home early as I promised. I couldn’t understand it, because as far as I was concerned, we’d practically drawn up battle lines the last time we spoke.”

“The poor fellow sounds as bemused and misled as I am. He has my sympathy,” Dane observed trenchantly.

“The ‘poor fellow’ as you call him hasn’t done badly out of all this, believe me—in fact, he’s done very nicely, although he doesn’t know it yet. Anyway, I decided not to think about the messages for the moment, because I wanted to visit Marchwood, and see how much of what I’d ‘dreamed’ was really there. Right away I noticed things I couldn’t have known from the information leaflet, and—”

“Information leaflet?”

“Um...a very brief guidebook?”

He nodded. “Go on.”

“Well, I noticed these things and became nervous, because until then I was convinced you were a dream.”

“Dream? Or nightmare?” He said softly, catching her eyes.

“That remains to be seen, doesn’t it?” she replied, and then went on. “When I arrived I lost my nerve a little, I decided to have some coffee, and I met one of the guides.”

“Guides? At
Marchwood
?”

“In the future Marchwood Castle is a place where people pay to be shown around. I know there are grand houses like that in your time as well, but in my time no one lives here, it is owned by— Oh, I don’t know who it’s owned by. The government? Anyway, it’s no longer a private home, and
anyone
can see inside it. Now, where was I...?”

“The guide.”

“Oh, yes. Well, she told me about the duel. I didn’t know about it until then. Anyway, I went on the tour of the castle, and saw your portrait in the great hall. I thought how much I wished you’d come to life again so I’d be with you, and suddenly it happened. One moment I was Kathryn Vansomeren, the next I was Rosalind again. You were angry, because you’d found out about the note to Thomas.”

“So the note
was
to him, not to Mrs. Fowler?”

“Yes, but I didn’t write it, Dane. The real Rosalind did.”

“Ah, but you were as glib then as you are now,” he pointed out. “Your explanation was swift and believable. ‘It was to my dressmaker,’ you said, deftly conjuring salvation from nowhere.”

“I know, but in my defense I can only say that
I
didn’t do anything. I wanted to be the wife you needed, because I was already halfway in love with you. No, more than halfway, I think I loved you from the moment I saw you the night before. Listen, Dane, I know how improbable all this must sound, but it’s the truth, I swear it is.”

“Improbable is the correct word, for I cannot imagine how anyone—except a writer of lurid novels—could invent such a far-fetched tale, not when Bedlam is the usual consequence of such ranting. So, proceed, madam, let us hear it to the bitter end.”

“When I heard about Jeremiah Pendle, something told me I had to meet him, that’s why I wanted to go with you to the drawing room. I also had a very odd feeling about the open window in the drawing room, it was something about the way the wind rustled through the ivy against the wall. It was a premonition, I guess. Anyway, when Pendle came in, I saw him look at the pistols. You were just putting them away, remember?”

“Yes.”

“So he knew where they were kept, which was useful later when he forced Talbot to do his bidding. Anyway, I didn’t like him in the least, I could feel that he was your enemy.”

“He has little cause to like me; after all, I did kill William Denham,” Dane pointed out.

“Yes, and Pendle was just waiting for an opportunity to do you harm. He found it useful that Thomas called you out. Anyway, that’s to come. I stayed a while, and then went to my apartment, after making you promise to come to me. Do you remember?”

“No man could forget,” he murmured.

She felt a warmth enter her cheeks. “Nor any woman,” she added softly, and paused to take a deep breath before speaking again. “When you left me, I returned to the portrait in the hall, and Alice was waiting. I tried to get her to tell me what was really going on, why it was happening to me, and so on, but all she’d say was that I’d know everything in good time. She also told me that she had second sight.”

He lay back on the grass, gazing up at the branches overhead. “So the old witch is exactly that—a witch,” he murmured.

“Something very close to it,” Kathryn agreed, “but without dark intent.” She glanced down at him, thinking she detected a change in his attitude. Was he beginning to accept what she said? She pressed on with the story. “Actually, Alice
was
something like a witch, but she isn’t now. Her powers ended at midnight last night. Anyway, she told me nothing could prevent you from finding out about Rosalind and Thomas at the sailing of the
Lady Marchwood
, but if I wished to see you again before then, at the Waterloo ball, I was to be at a certain place in Cheltenham at a certain time. That was all, because suddenly I was in the future again, and Alice had turned into the guide I’d had coffee with earlier. By now I naturally wanted to find out all I could about what went on in 1815, so she, the guide that is, directed me to the library in Gloucester. I went there and researched the ball, the maiden voyage, and...the duel.” She was glad he didn’t ask questions, for she didn’t want to mention Jeremiah Pendle’s diary—not just yet, anyway.

She continued. “That night I went to the place Alice said in Cheltenham, and came back to 1815 again. As Rosalind, I kept an assignation with Thomas Denham. I tried to change things by saying I loved you and was going to stay with you. That’s when...”

“Yes?”

She looked down at him as he lay on the grass beside her. “That’s when he mentioned the baby,” she said quietly. How would Dane take such news? To the deceived husband, surely the only thing worse than the actual betrayal was to learn that it had borne fruit?

He met her gaze, and she could see the trees reflected in his eyes. His face was very still. “Don’t stop now,” he said softly.

“I... I took fright then, and ran back to the hall, where I found you.”

“And where you once again gulled me into trusting you, so much so that we made love in the carriage on the way back to Marchwood, and then all through the night after that.” Suddenly he pulled her down beside him, and then leaned over her, sliding a knowing hand over her breast and caressing her through the delicate muslin of her gown. “This was how it was then, mm? Sensuous delights until dawn ...”

He bent his head to kiss her parted lips. He gave her no quarter, employing his considerable skills to tease her into response. The blood began to flow hopefully through her veins and her mouth softened willingly beneath his. Her nipples hardened eagerly at his touch, and her whole body warmed with the swift desire only he could arouse. A sigh escaped her as he moved onto her. He was going to take her right there on the grass! It had to mean he believed her, and that everything was going to be all right!

How wrong she was though, for everything was far from right.

Chapter Thirty-one

There wasn’t to be any abandoned lovemaking on the grass, because he hadn’t forgiven her, but was merely punishing her again as he had the night before.

For a moment he allowed her to feel the hard erection pounding at his loins, but he didn’t free it to enter her. He simply allowed her to know he could if he chose, then he looked mockingly down into her eyes.

“You want to surrender, don’t you, my darling? For that way you think to beguile me into believing in you again. Well, I’m afraid I must leave you panting for more, because nothing on God’s earth will ever induce me to sully myself with you again.” He sat up as if he’d never touched her.

Tears were wet on her cheeks, but she made no sound, and it was several moments before she at last managed to speak again. “What virtue is there in humiliating me like this, Dane?” she whispered.

“No virtue, madam, but a great deal of satisfaction for the wrongs you’ve done me. You may claim to be this Kathryn Vansomeren, and say it was beyond your power until now to tell me the so-called truth, but when I look at you now, I see perfidious Rosalind. You’ve been misleading me, and doing it so successfully I actually trusted you with my closest secret. I told you about Elizabeth and William Denham, and you listened as if butter wouldn’t melt in your damned mouth! But all the time you’ve been carrying Thomas Denham’s child!”

Blinking back the tears, she sat up as well, in order to see into his bitter eyes. It was a moment or so before she could make her voice obey her again, but when it did, it trembled with feeling. “No, Dane,
I’m
not carrying a child. Rosalind is, but not me. And Rosalind wouldn’t want your kisses as I do. If you’d made love to me a moment ago, I’d have been overjoyed, I freely admit it, but can you really deny that you didn’t want me as well, that your arousal had as much to do with desire as punishment? Outwardly you may treat me as if I mean nothing to you, but behind that angry facade ...” She allowed her voice to trail away.

He looked at the way the sun shone on the golden tangle of her hair, and at the seductive shadows where her breasts curved into her low-cut bodice, then he met her eyes impassively. “There isn’t a man alive who couldn’t rise to the occasion with you, Rosalind, but whether the act would mean anything to him emotionally is another matter. A few swift thrusts, and I could walk away from you now without a backward glance.”

A sad smile played upon her lips. “If you can still say that when I’ve told you everything, I’ll have no option but to accept it. But you gave your word you’d hear me out to the end, and I’m still holding you to that.”

“You mean I must endure more of this idiocy?”

She put her hand hesitantly to his cheek. “Dane, I know how hard all this is to believe, and believe me, it’s just as hard to say, so hard I’ve forgotten something vital. You see, when I got back from the library, I discovered someone had been in my apartment again. It was Rosalind, and I realized that every time I came back here in time, she took my place in the future!”

He stared at her, but then shook his head. “This becomes more and more of a fairy tale! Soon there will be giants, wizards, and goblins to add a little
je ne sais quoi
to the plot!”

She tried to compose herself. “I didn’t find it easy to believe either, and I was the one to whom it was happening! I know you think I’m crazy, but the truth is often stranger than fiction. Isn’t that what they say?”

“I don’t know. Do they?”

Of course, Mark Twain hadn’t yet been born, so Dane couldn’t possibly know his quotes. “Whether or not they do, it’s right. So is what I’m saying to you. When you left me after telling me about Elizabeth and William, I found Alice waiting for me. She told me she’d tell me everything once the challenge had been issued at the docks. So I went to the docks, I became Rosalind again, and though I tried my hardest not to let anything happen with Thomas, it did all the same because he threatened to make a scene unless I spoke privately with him. You didn’t find us in a loving embrace, you found me trying to get away when he wouldn’t believe it when I said I was in love with you. There was nothing I could do, Dane, just as until now there hasn’t been anything I could do all along. Events had to take their course, they couldn’t be changed, no matter how I tried, and I
did
try, you must believe me.”

She lowered her glance to the grass, and then continued. “Anyway, Alice took me to her cottage after the challenge, and she told me everything I didn’t yet know. You see, it wasn’t coincidence that Thomas Denham made me think of Richard Vansomeren—Richard’s descended from the Denhams. He has the same DNA as Thomas, and is so like him that—”

“He has the same
what
?”

She looked at Dane in dismay, for how on earth was she going to explain about DNA? “Dane, I don’t know how to tell you about such a thing. We take it all for granted in the future, but no one in 1815 knows anything about it. All I can liken it to is a selection of knitting pattern. People are made from one pattern or other, and as the generations go by, that same pattern crops up again and again in families, because we have all descended from it. That’s why fathers can share character and looks with their sons, uncles with nephews, grandfathers with grandsons, and so on. In the future, Richard Vansomeren might not
look
like Thomas Denham, but he’s one and the same in most other ways.”