Page 11 of A Touch for All Time (For All Time #3)

A fter fifty-eight doors, they stopped for the night.

“Maybe it’s not here.”

He turned to her as they walked together through the hall. “There are still more doors. We will check them tomorrow. If your door isn’t here, then we’ll search the forest. If there was a way here, there must be a way back.”

“You’re very reassuring.” She smiled and his heart went a little soft. There was nothing he could do to stop it. “You must be eager to get rid of me.”

“Miss Darling,” he said steadily, trying not to think about the fact that she didn’t sound playful about it. “I don’t think about ridding myself of you . If I didn’t want to be here with you, I wouldn’t be.”

“Well,” She looked away for a moment to laugh at herself. “I mean, I don’t want you to be happy to see me go, but I also don’t want you to be hurt when I go.”

“I won’t be happy to see you go,” he let her know, trying not to smile at her like some hapless fool. “I also won’t be hurt.”

She didn’t look any happier, but she smiled. “Good! Well, goodnight then.”

Boldly, he reached out and snatched her hand. “Come to my dance hall with me.”

“Now?”

What was he doing? He forbade his mouth from opening. His head betrayed him when he nodded.

She took a step with him and then stopped and smiled at Harper approaching.

Harper smiled back briefly, then turned to Gray. “Can we talk?”

“No,” he said through his grounded jaw, and tugged on Miss Darling.

“You should both go talk,” she intervened, pulling her hand away. Gray gave her a disbelieving stare. “I’ll see you tomorrow, my—”

“Stay right where you are,” he ordered.

“It can wait,” Harper told him and turned to leave the way she’d come.

Miss Darling stopped her. “We were just going to my lord’s dance hall. Why don’t you come along? He was just saying earlier that he missed talking with you.”

“Miss Darling,” he barked. “I said no such thing!”

“Not with your words,” she admitted. “But your eyes spoke for you.”

He would have laughed at her preposterous statement if Harper hadn’t started walking away.

“Harper,” he commanded. “Bring your violin.” He wanted to sound angrier than he felt. In fact, he wasn’t angry at all. Hell, what would betray him next? His heart? His gaze slipped to Miss Darling before he picked up his steps. He’d told her if he didn’t want to be here with her, he wouldn’t be. So…that meant he wanted to be with her. Hadn’t he invited her to the dance hall when she would have left him for the night? Now, she’d invited Harper—and he wasn’t angry.

He hadn’t taken hold of her hand again and looked down at his shoes while they walked. “I don’t think you should go about telling how you hear my eyes speaking for me. These people will think you peculiar.”

“Please,” she huffed and bunched up her lips, making Gray think about kissing her. He averted his gaze when hers turned to him. “They’re the peculiar ones,” she continued. “Their heads are as dull as their hearts. They look at art in the flesh and they see something sordid and scandalous. It’s their thoughts which are odd and peculiar.”

While she went on, he didn’t look at her. He wanted to. It took every ounce of strength he possessed not to. He ached to see the indignation play out on her pretty features. She was pretty. He wanted to look at her.

“You should stop growing so angry on my behalf. It’s very enchanting—” he looked up from his shoes, finally setting his gaze on hers—“but I have no heart for it.”

Her huge eyes opened even wider. “You have no heart for what? Who wants to enchant you? Not me. I’m just passing through.”

“As you’ve said a dozen times now,” he muttered.

“And yet you’re thinking I want to enchant you?” she countered, giving him a look that said he was too ignorant to bother with.

“I don’t know if you want to or not,” he said, raising his voice, “but you are!”

She dipped her ocean blue gaze, and then he did too. He continued to the dance hall, not realizing she had stopped.

He felt panic rise in him like bile. What was she doing to him? Why couldn’t he stop it? He wanted to. Didn’t he? He felt a little feverish and flush, so he kept his head down when he entered the hall with her behind him.

He pulled off his velvet coat and tossed it aside, then did the same with his shoes. He thought he might dance for her. He didn’t know why he suddenly had such a thought. He wanted to dance for her to show her who he really was. At least a small part, but a vital one, nonetheless.

And that’s what frightened him. Why did he want to show her? Why did it suddenly matter?

“What kind of dancing did you perform?” he asked her, wanting to know more about her, despite what his head was shrieking at him.

“Contemporary dance,” she told him, then explained. “It’s rooted in ballet with more modern movements. The same things are important like clarity of line, and from what I’ve seen, your lines are beautiful even in the most grotesque way.”

He couldn’t help but smile but he turned away when he did…and looked straight at Harper who had entered the hall carrying her violin.

“Who is this extraordinary woman that brings a smile to my precious boy’s face?” she said in a quiet voice, close to him.

He let his smile linger for another instant on his dearest friend, then turned in the direction of Miss Darling.

“Teach me.”

She laughed and shook the foundations of his body. He almost laughed with her. What in blazes—

“Teach you contemporary? No, no, I can’t.”

“Why can’t you? You don’t have to dance. Just teach me the steps.”

“It’s the movement too,” she added and turned to Harper when she began playing her violin.

“Yes?” he urged.

“It’s…it’s interpretation and expression…and…um…freedom.”

“Teach me,” he asked, lowering his voice and his gaze to hers. “Please.”

“Maybe it’s better if we don’t…I’ll return to Will. I’m sure he’ll—”

He sighed. He’d heard enough and did three pirouettes away from her. Of course, he’d let her leave if she wanted to go. She wasn’t a prisoner. She was correct. They shouldn’t spend so much time together. If he wasn’t strong enough to suggest it, he was glad she was. Why did she? Was she beginning to feel something for him? His belly flipped. Mayhap he was ill, and these flips and flurries were part of his malady. He looked at Harper. Should he tell her? She would get him feeling well again.

While he twirled on the balls of his feet, he bent forward and then down to his spinning foot and brought his other leg straight up. A classic penché, but he gave it depth and meaning when he brought his shoulders up, and keeping his body parallel to his legs, folded his arms across his chest and then used his graceful hands to indicate him pouring something out of them. Head back, his eyes half closed, he let himself go. He brought his foot down and turned his knees out, contracting his chest, then puffing it out. He raised his hands to his chest again and this time, flicked his wrists, turning his fingers upward on one hand and down on the other. Alternating each position to the shrilling cries of the violin, he turned his face left, then to the right to show her a big part of his childhood. Being beat up by Harry Gable and Timothy Cavendish, and a few others. Leaping into a tour en l’air, or a turn in the air, he thought of how Miss Darling stirred him and how vulnerable it made him feel. He landed on both feet, covering his face with his forearms. Then, his arms fell limp and his head slumped over.

The music stopped.

He didn’t open his eyes for a moment while he gathered his control. Sometimes it wasn’t easy. This was one of those times. He wanted to keep dancing—but for himself. He needed to release these volatile emotions, or they would erupt.

“That was outstanding,” his guest complimented when he walked back to her. “And troublesome.”

“Why troublesome?”

Instead of answering right away, she crossed her arms over her chest as if in defense of what she was about to tell him. “I understood what you were saying.”

He couldn’t remember another time in his life when he felt his bones melt like butter in the sun. He wanted to run from her effect on him. He didn’t ever want to trust someone again only for her to leave him…and possibly to the same place the other two women in his life had gone.

He held up his index finger and cast her a playful grin. “Miss Darling, we talked about you saying such things in public.”

“We’re not in public,” she countered. “One like your mother is here.”

He looked toward Harper. One like his mother? No. Harper hadn’t left him. But she’d kept the truth from him. She knew his future this entire time. She likely knew where his mother was. He pulled his glance away. He’d trusted her.

He felt her coming toward him, moving closer. He breathed deep and closed his eyes.

“Grayson, I still won’t leave your side,” Harper said tenderly. “You’re stuck with me.”

He didn’t look at her or answer her but remained with his eyes closed.

Undaunted, she continued. “I think your healing has begun.”

She offered Aria a quick warm smile, and then turned it on him, seeing his eyes had opened. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Good night.”

Gray watched her leave.

“She seems to love you very much.”

He slid his gaze to Miss Darling. “She kept things from me my whole life.”

“Maybe she didn’t have a choice.”

He dipped his brow at her. “Have you spoken to her about this?”

“No. Why?”

“Did she tell you in some other way…without words?”

She gave him a short laugh. “No. It’s just easy to see that she cares for you.”

His gaze lingered on hers for a moment before moving to the door, where Harper had exited. Why didn’t she have a choice? His grandmother hadn’t seemed like the type to strong-arm someone. Had Harper obeyed her out of love? Who was Harper to Tessa Blagden? Now that he was considering speaking to her again, he had many questions for Harper Bla—

“Did your Mrs. Blagden ever mention what her last name meant?”

Aria thought about it, drawing in the corner of her lower lip, making him wonder what it tasted like. “She said it meant bl?c dūn, or black hill.”

He nodded. Then, Harper Black was indeed related to his grandmother. They were both in his life and neither of them ever told him where they came from—where his mother had likely gone. Why lie to him? Was it all to manipulate his life to make certain he had sons to carry on the Ashmore name?

“Did Mrs. Blagden ever mention having a family?” he asked, picking up his shoes to carry them back.

“Yes, but she never told me their names or anything about them. Why?”

“I believe Harper is her relative. Now that I know they have the powerful ability of traveling through time, it’s more difficult to trust them.”

“Is it more difficult to trust me too?”

“I don’t know you,” he replied coolly. Almost immediately, he regretted his aloof demeanor with her. “I don’t know you and yet I’ve likely told you more in a few days than I’ve told anyone else.”

He looked into her eyes and was glad to see he’d avoided the storm, though he didn’t mind her storms too much.

“So? Will you teach me your contemporary dance?”

She stared at him and then let out a withering sigh. “Sure. Why not? I’d like to see what you can do. But I can’t teach you in all these layers and this corset. It’s a wonder I haven’t passed out with the scant breaths I’ve had to take since I’ve been here. Okay, right, I saw that.”

“What?” he asked, wide-eyed and trying to look innocent despite the play of a smile across his lips and eyes.

“You smiled.”

“So? Is my amusement prohibited?”

“When it’s at my expense…well, no, not really,” she rescinded. “I suppose not. Better that I amuse you than annoy you. Most of the men I knew back home found me annoying and frustrating. I wasn’t considered amusing.”

“My lady, those were boys, not men. They are the ones who are annoying and frustrating. Why else would they look negatively on a sassy spitfire who could disarm them with a kick? You frightened them.”

“But I don’t frighten you?”

Instead of answering, he popped out his chest, isolating the movement perfectly without a trace of amusement—for a moment, and then the bravado vanished as he broke into a playful smile.

He reigned it in quickly, almost choking on it.

She moved closer to him and leaned in. “Maybe just a little?”

More than a little, but it was a completely different kind of fear. His was a fear of being abandoned again, and his was a fear of her being a willing participant in the Blagden’s schemes. Perhaps agreeing to be in their plans for him out of love or loyalty to his grandmother—like Harper. Willing or not, Miss Darling was a puppet too.

They left the dance hall together and walked toward her room.

“Let’s start tonight.”

She blinked her beguiling eyes. “The midnight bells rang a minute ago.”

“Will you turn to mist then?” he asked. “And you don’t want me to see?”

“No,” she laughed. It was a small, soft sound that permeated his flesh and warmed his blood and emboldened him to move a breath closer.

“Are you too sleepy to dance with me?”

“No,” she defended and pressed her knuckles to her temples, her cheeks. “I’m afraid we might not sleep at all.”

For the first time, he wanted to nod his agreement. If he had his way, it wouldn’t be because they were dancing. “What would be so bad about that?” he asked and gave her backside a short smack.

Before he drew his next breath, she spun around, her arm outstretched, her palm sailing toward his face. Her hand stopped a hair’s breadth away from his cheek. With a clenched jaw and fury in her gaze, she held her hand where it stopped.

Staring into her eyes, he was sorry he’d treated her with such careless disregard. For a moment he had thought she was like the others, ready to give in and go with him, even though he never went with any of them. He was wrong.

She wanted to slap his face. He wanted her to slap it too.

Reaching up, he covered her hand with his.

“I won’t be like the others and bring you pain,” she told him in a soft voice, then yanked her hand free. “But if you ever touch me again without my permission, I won’t hold back.”

“Forgive me,” he repented sincerely. Then, “I’m thoughtless.”

“I don’t doubt it,” she huffed and continued walking.

He leaped in front of her to stop her from leaving. “I’m not really. Not lately.”

“Not what?”

“Thoughtless. I think about you often.”

When she smiled, he joined her. “So? Do we begin our lessons tonight or do we go to bed to dream about dancing, instead of doing it?”

She kept him waiting while she considered it. “Alright, but let me get my dance clothes.”

Her dance clothes? Did she mean the tights and the short veil of a skirt that revealed the strength in her thighs? The oversized pink shirt with the word DARTMOUTH on it, as if she belonged there…with him.

Ridiculous, he thought, continuing to her room. He didn’t belong with any woman. What woman would want a man whose heart was covered in barbed wire? No woman had touched his soul, especially not his heart.

But Aria Darling excited him. She soothed him by bringing amusement into his dreary days. He forgot the darkness when he was busy trying not to smile.

He promised to wait when she reached her door and disappeared inside. He wouldn’t react to her clothes. He felt his head for a fever, then shook it in disbelief when his hand returned cool. Why else would he continuously do what his head told him not to do? Why else would his heart beat so erratically around her? Why didn’t he want to separate from her?

He wondered about these things while he leaned against her door.

He wasn’t expecting it to open so quickly and almost tumbled inside. He caught himself before she caught him.

When he straightened, she turned her back to him, half-in and half-out of her room. “Can you untie me?”

“Untie you?” he repeated hollowly as fire shot down between his legs. “I don’t know—”

“Just do it. Sarah isn’t here. She’s probably sleeping, and I’ll need this corset loosened before I sleep.”

He swallowed looking down at the tie at her lower back. He reached out his hesitant hand and plucked the tail of the bow and pulled. Fire lashed up his back and licked at his fingers as he loosened the ribbon. His flesh felt scalding.

“I won’t miss these things,” she mused as the stiff fabric fell away and she shut the door in his face.

Was he lusting for her? Since when did he lust after anyone? It was another curse, lust. It gave birth to regret. Damn him! He should go, but he knew he wouldn’t. It was as if he no longer possessed any control of himself.

He waited until the door opened again and she stepped out. Yes, he should have left and gone to bed. His belly flipped at the sight of her in hose that were as tight as her own skin, and her heavier top with his name sewn across the front. His heart fluttered, his muscles twitched with an unfamiliar need. In fact, there wasn’t a part of him that didn’t hurt. His fingers itched to touch her—just one touch. He remembered her warning about doing so without her permission. If she didn’t like it, he wouldn’t do it. But his fingers still itched.

“You never told me why you wear a shirt that bears my name,” he said, trying to ignore her shapely legs—and the rest of her as she walked on a few steps without him.

“It’s a college—university in New Hampshire.”

“ New Hampshire?” he asked, catching up.

“In the future America. But I didn’t attend Dartmouth. I just like the color.”

He took a good look at her again and smiled, obviously liking what he saw. “It suits you.”

“Does it?” she asked with a shy smile.

“It reminds me of the delicate flower petals of a musk mallow.”

“Oh?” She let out a small, husky laugh, making his legs feel weak. “I remind you of something delicate?”

“Yes,” he answered, then looked away when she began to turn to him.

“I’m not.”

“To me you are.”

“Even though I disarmed you?” she asked, her voice going soft.

“You also didn’t put your hand to me when you could have. When you should have.”

She wrinkled her brow at him. “And that makes me delicate?”

“Yes. You’re like a robin. They are fierce little birds that will fight off a hawk, but they can be felled by the smallest pebble.”

She gave him a playful, warning look on the way back to the dance hall. “I’m not sure I like your analogy.”

He thought about it for a moment. “Alright then, you’re like an ant. They can carry fifty times their weight, but one step can crush them.”

He tried not to break into a smile while she stared at him as if he were the most simple-minded dolt to ever live. Finally, she looked away and he released what he’d been holding back.

She slipped her gaze to him and caught him. Without hesitation, she turned to face him fully and took in what he offered her. What he hadn’t offered to anyone but Harper since he was a boy. What he’d planned on never offering to anyone again, a full-on, genuine smile and even a short burst of laughter when she swatted his arm and set his feet running the rest of the way.