Journey in Time (Knights in Time) (46 page)

Shakira fluffed bed pillows she’d stacked on the end of the sofa. She piled one on top of the other, propped herself up and stretched her legs out. For days, migraines troubled her and lying flat aggravated them. She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples again.

"Are you all right?" Concern obvious in Miranda's frown, she touched a palm to Shakira’s forehead and then to her cheek.

"Yes," Shakira answered in a bare whisper, moving her hands from her temples to massage her neck. "I'm just overtired, and I've had a blistering headache for the last few days. Nothing seems to help."

"Can I get you some aspirin?"

"I've taken two Tylenol this morning already. I'm afraid to take more with the baby and all."

“Who’s Jack and where’s Duck Bay?” Miranda asked and tossed several magazines from a chair to the coffee table. All were open to pictures of Alex attending various events, each time with a different beautiful woman on his arm.

"Jack Stone, from Beltane, you've met him." He's an estate agent by profession. His family owns a chain of offices in the Midlands." Shakira laid her head back and covered her eyes with her arm. "Duck Bay is about forty-five minutes north of Glasgow, on Loch Lomond."

"Why Scotland? You can stay in England and still avoid Alex."

Shakira brought her arm down and turned toward Miranda. "I told myself I’ll be fine if I run into him. I’m tough. But the truth is I’m not,” she sighed. “I think my getting blackballed is a sign. It’s time to start new. If I stay here some part of me will always dread the prospect of accidentally encountering Alex. And, pathetically, some part of me will always live in the hope I do. The odds of Alex coming to Duck Bay are slim to none.”

"Can you get hired by a Scottish firm?”

"Jack's offered me a position as one of the attorneys his family keeps on retainer. I don't know the ins and outs of property law, but I’m a fast learner. I can work from home or the new office he plans to open in Glasgow."

"What makes you think Alex will never show up in Glasgow? They’ve lots of clubs and bands there."

"Anything is possible. The odds are improbable, though,” Shakira said. “It’s rare for him to search out new groups. Musicians audition for him or send demo CD’s. He didn't want to come with you and Ian to hear Beltane as I recall."

"And Jack?"

"What about him?"

"Aren't you a little concerned about this?"

"No. Why should I be?"

"Well, it sounds to me like he's in love with you,” Miranda said.

"For God's sake," Shakira groaned at the absurd assumption. "Can't a man and a woman be friends without everyone turning it into a romance?"

"Some perhaps, but I don’t think in this case it’s platonic, not for Jack anyway. I'll bet he’s opening that office to be near you."

Shakira considered the idea, weighed the evidence. If he wanted a romantic liaison, he had ample opportunity in the past to pursue her. The more she thought about it, the more she found reasons to deny the possibility. Jack never even tried to kiss her. Oh sure, they'd flirted with each other when the band got together, nothing more. Miranda was imagining things.

"Jack has more women than any ten men. He doesn't need to add me to his list of conquests."

"You're not another conquest. He's building you a nest. That's the behavior of a man in love. Mark my words. You'll see I'm right."

Shakira waved a dismissive hand at her friend. She didn't want to talk about the prospect of Jack being in love with her. She neither wanted, nor needed, another lover. There'd never be another man like Alex.
 

"Tell me about the new program you and Ian are working on," Shakira asked, unwilling to think more about Jack or Alex.

***

Shakira awoke to warm, damp, stickiness between her legs and a cool damp feel to the sheet. Alarmed, she reached over and turned on the light. She blinked and squinted until her eyes adjusted, then, with trepidation, looked down. "No!"

Dark blood smeared the inside of her thighs; clots dotted the sheet beneath her in various stages of coagulation. “No!”

She threw the blankets aside and tried to scramble out of bed. Her feet hadn't fully found the floor when pain, sharp and breath stealing, doubled her over. It struck her belly like a giant fist that powered in, twisted, and wouldn’t let go. Shakira's legs crumpled. On her hands and knees, panting between cramps, she cradled her abdomen as waves of pain overwhelmed her and blood gushed.

The worst of the cramps passed in a few minutes. Slowly, she dragged herself to the phone on the far nightstand and called for an ambulance. Maybe by some miracle, she hadn’t lost
the baby, their baby, all she had left of Alex. In her heart, she knew different. The circle was complete. Now, she had truly lost everything. Resigned, she made one more call.

"Jack?"

Chapter Fifty-Six

     
"Alex Lancaster, you’re the last man I’d expect to see stag at one of these affairs."

     
Alex looked the stranger up and down.

     
"You’ve led the paparazzi on a merry chase for weeks now. The
Tabs
say you’ve squired every gorgeous female south of the Scottish border. The rest of us will have to make do with your runoff." The tuxedoed stranger leaned back with both his elbows on the bar, a whiskey in one hand.

     
Alex set his cigar onto the edge of the Dorchester Hotel’s logo engraved ashtray.”

"Do I know you?" he asked, taking the scotch the bartender handed him. He didn’t care for the hint of insolence in the man’s comment. He studied the man’s vaguely familiar face but couldn’t place him.
   

     
"Sorry, I guess you don’t remember me, Neil Tavington. We met last summer. I’m an attorney with Wickersham and Longleat. You were there meeting with Shakira Constantine. We spoke briefly in the lobby."

     
The encounter came back to Alex. The obsequious Tavington made a general nuisance of himself and acted an overall boor. When Shakira introduced them, he’d repeated a few off color jokes, jokes in poor taste about Alex’s reputation.
  

     
Alex ignored the man’s extended hand and took a swallow of his Johnnie Walker Blue, fighting the urge to inquire about Shakira. He hadn’t wanted to think about her and hadn’t been able to think of anything else. To his chagrin, he’d resorted to boyish antics and cruised by her house a few times. He set his drink down and in spite of himself, asked, "How is Shakira?"

     
Tavington’s ruddy checks flushed redder. "I wouldn’t know. Didn’t you hear?" He turned, propped his foot on the bar’s foot rail, and bent close. A malicious smile of delight crossed on his face as he shared the news. "She was sacked weeks ago-violated the morals clause of her contract."

     
"Morals clause?" He remembered Miranda’s mention of the document Shakira signed when she was hired. Shakira wouldn’t do anything immoral. Tavington had to be speaking of a different document.

     
"Old Man Wickersham’s a bit of a zealot and has all his employees sign a contract guaranteeing their behavior will always be above reproach, etcetera, etcetera." He rolled his eyes and pressed distastefully close to Alex. "It seems Miss Constantine...and I emphasize the Miss...got herself knocked up with some bloke’s bastard and---"

     
Flat on his ass, Tavington rubbed his jaw and groaned.

     
Alex towered over him, his hand still fisted. "Say one nasty word about Shakira again and I'll break it next time. I’m the bloke, and the babe is no bastard."

                                                           
                                                        
***
    

Stunned by the news of Shakira's pregnancy, Alex knocked louder, the lateness of the hour of little importance. He raised his fist to pound on the door again, when Ian opened it, looking none too pleased. Shirtless and barefoot, he stood in the doorway, hair tousled, Levis unbuttoned, with one hand wrapped around the knob, the other on his hip.
 

"Am I interrupting?"

"Yes. Go away."
 

Alex breezed past Ian into the house. "Where's Shakira?" He jerked the end of his black bowtie. The silk knot came undone with ease. He shoved it into the jacket pocket of his tux and unbuttoned his shirt collar, eyeing the stairs. If Ian didn't know her whereabouts, Miranda would. If necessary, he’d invade Ian’s bedroom to find out.

"Have you tried her house?"

"I've driven by every night, and it’s been dark the whole week. Where is she?"

"Why the sudden interest?" Miranda interrupted as she reached the bottom stair. "You haven't been concerned about her since your return. Why now?" She moved to Ian’s side.

"You didn’t answer my question. Where is she?"

"Like you care," Miranda said.

"Before you take all your hostility out on me, please remember there are two sides to a story."

"Right, and you listened to hers, when?"

Miranda's direct question brought a rush of guilt, which he swiftly rejected. Shakira made her case when she left him the note and then deserted him.

"I’ve heard her side of the story and seen the evidence."

Baffled, Alex asked, "What evidence?"

"Her letters to you returned and unopened."

"I had my reasons for returning the letters."

"So you say. After all the brass messages, how could you come back and ignore her letters?" Miranda’s hard gaze stayed locked on him.

"Messages?"

Miranda looked askance, clearly not trusting he didn’t know. "We were told the outcropping might be a magnetic field. Under the right conditions, it might trigger the portal to open. She wrote them down and put the information in metal tubes. We went to the rock. She scattered them as best she could all around, on the chance you’d find them."
 

Ian turned to Miranda. "You and Shakira did what?"
  

"We sent messages rolled up in cigar holders Shakira bought. Go ahead, tell Alex about the Gordon meeting."

"Later. Right now, I want to you to tell me about your going to that rock."

Miranda began to take a step backward, but Ian wrapped his hand around her wrist and stopped her. "Answer me."

"Why are you getting angry? I only went once, as moral support. What's the big deal?"

"What's the big deal? Do you have any idea what could've happened to the two of you? Did it ever occur to either of you that the portal might open with you both there?"

Ian grabbed her by the upper arms. "I'd like to shake some sense into you. What would you have done if you'd been caught in a time warp?"

"Give me some credit. I didn't get close. I stood at least twenty yards away."

"Really? You two arbitrarily decided the radius of this magnetic field, pulled this figure out of the air and assumed it was accurate. I can't believe you did something so stupid." He did shake her, twice, and then hugged her.