Page 13 of A Touch for All Time (For All Time #3)

G ray held his handleless cup to his lips and inhaled deeply. The rich, bold aroma of coffee filled his lungs, and he sighed with delight. The coffee house was crowded on this Sunday and the men seemed more rowdy than usual. Most likely they had been here all day drinking the stimulating beverage.

Without women standing over them, wagging their fingers and scolding them, the men laughed more, smoked more, fought more.

Gray took a sip of his drink. A bottle flew by him. He barely looked up at the two men fighting to his left. If one of them came near him to fight, he would end it quickly. Never again would he crouch and whimper while anyone kicked him senseless.

Usually no one bothered with him. Once they tried to speak to him and received little reply, they gave up and whispered as they walked away about him being the peculiar marquess. He didn’t care what they thought. He was here for the coffee, not companionship.

Images filled his thoughts, clearing the smoke, changing the sounds that filled his ears to the music of laughter. Miss Darling. When she stepped right out of bed in her chemise, he almost stopped breathing. She made him smile. She made him want to laugh.

He’d waited an hour after sunrise for her, but she slept. Finally, he had left the castle and headed for the forest on his horse. Ghost liked the forest. Or was it he who felt at peace there? He hunted thieves but found none. A good thing, despite his disappointment. He’d gone back to the castle, only to find Miss Darling still asleep. They did both retire very late, but as noon approached, he told Sarah Gable to alert him the moment she woke up.

She looked ravishing sitting up in her bed, looking a little disheveled with her messy hair falling around her like a cloak.

He swallowed the hot coffee and felt it seeping into his bones—or was it Miss Darling taking over his senses?

The door to the coffee house swung open and Miss Darling stepped inside in a swirl of cool air.

Every sound stopped. Every man stared at her, stunned by her presence where no women before her had gone.

Gray rubbed his eyes to make sure he was seeing right. He stood up instinctively when two of the patrons stalked around her. What was she doing here? He decided to ask her.

“Miss Darling,” he said when he reached her—before the other two patrons did. “What are you doing here? Women aren’t permitted here.”

“I want a cup of coffee,” she told him—told them all. “What’s so wrong with that?”

“Women are banned from the coffee house,” someone yelled. “Now, get out!”

“I’m not leaving,” she let them know, and sat at the nearest table.

“Miss Darling,” Gray said, standing over her. When she looked up, he stared into her eyes for a moment, remembering that impossible as it was to believe, she didn’t come from this time. “Would you like sugar?”

“No, thank you,” she told him with warmth in her gaze.

He held up his hand and told the server to bring the lady black coffee. Men around him were murmuring. Some were moving closer.

Gray sat next to her and crossed his wrists in his lap, the fingers of his right hand touching the hilt of his sword. He waited. “Are you trying to make a statement, My Darli—” he stopped. His eyes opened wide realizing what he said. “ Miss Darling,” he corrected, feeling like he might tip over. She smiled, which made him feel worse…and better at the same time.

Her coffee was served with a bit of force, spilling some of the liquid on the table. Gray stared up at the server, who didn’t wait around to get scolded, but hurried away.

Seeing her startle back, Gray leaned in. “Don’t be afraid.”

She stared into his eyes. “I’m not.”

He said nothing, nor did he change his expression when he sipped his coffee and invited her to do the same.

“But if I was,” she went on hesitantly. “Why shouldn’t I be afraid?”

“I’ll keep you safe.”

“Why would you?”

He put his cup down. “You have an unfairly low opinion of me, Miss Darling. I would not leave a lady here to her own defenses.”

“I don’t doubt it, my lord. But don’t you enjoy there being no women here? If I’ve decided to make a statement, why would you stand behind it?”

“For two reasons.” He held up his finger. “If you want to drink coffee, you should be able to, no matter where it is. And two,” he held up another finger, “By now you should have guessed that I’ll stand by any form of rebellion.”

“You like trouble,” she surmised and sipped her coffee.

He shook his head. “I like fairness and freedom.”

She lowered her cup and barely looked up. “Behind you.”

He raised his arms and grabbed hold of the man sneaking up behind him and pulled him over his shoulder. The patron landed on his back just inches from the table with a loud thump. Before anyone else moved, Gray dragged his sword free and held it up. “The next one who moves will meet my sword.”

“And my foot,” Miss Darling added. She angled her head slightly to see a brutish patron crossing the room to her.

Gray reached for a knife in his boot, but when he lifted his hand to fling the blade, his eye caught Miss Darling lifting her gown over her calf. He watched, spellbound while she kicked out behind her and sent the heel of her foot into the patron’s groin. Never in his life had Gray been so distracted. For a moment he couldn’t take his eyes off her, and a moment was all it took for someone to hit him in the back of the head and knock him out.

*

Aria watched the marquess go down and was torn between going to him or taking a stand and fighting for her life. She didn’t dare move with twelve men circling her. She said a prayer and readied herself against the closest attacker.

Something outside smashed against the window. Everyone stopped and looked toward the sound. When they didn’t see anything, they continued moving toward her. But another thud that rattled the yellow glass stopped them again. One of the men took a step closer to the window and then leaped back and fell on his backside when something hit the window and blood spurted against it.

Something hit the east window next, and the men took a collective step away from it. Someone shouted that it was a bird. Aria looked closer. They were all birds! Large birds and small ones flying into the windows with all their might, as if they were deliberately trying to break the glass. If some died to break it, others would get in.

Did birds sacrifice themselves? And for what, or…for who? She looked at the marquess lying unconscious on the floor. She hurried to him. What was happening? Somewhere outside a raven screeched. Around her, the men were fighting with one another about opening the door and running out. Glass shattered and a few of the men cried out. Someone pulled the door open and several of them ran out. After a moment, Aria and the others heard the escapees screaming.

“My lord, my lord, wake up!”

A man behind her shouted a warning and she turned to see a large raven flying through the broken glass window and flapping its great, black wings above her.

She threw herself over the marquess, shielding him. The terrifying bird shrieked close to her ear. She shook with fear.

But then she felt the marquess’ arms come around her, and at the same time, the raven retreated and flew out the window.

Aria looked down to find the marquess’ sea-green gaze on her. He appeared startled and confused. Someone outside screamed, drawing the marquess up on his elbows with her falling away. He looked toward the open door, then closed his eyes again. Outside the screaming stopped.

Aria watched in stunned disbelief. Was he communicating with the animals? Had the birds been trying to save him? If it was true and he really could communicate with animals, then it was probably true that he was somehow responsible for the death of George Gable.

When the others stopped screaming, the rest of the men ran out of the coffee house.

The marquess tried to stand but clutched the back of his head and only rose to his knees.

“Easy,” Aria soothed, moving to help him. “You were hit hard. Is there a physician at the castle?”

“Yes, but…what happened to the birds?”

She looked over her shoulder at the window. It was quiet. “They…they were trying to break the glass. I think they were trying to get inside.”

“Inside?”

“Yes, to get to you.”

He looked at her, giving nothing away in his stoic expression. “Why would they want to get to me? Do you think they wished to harm me?”

“I used to think they didn’t wish anything. But no. I think it’s clear who they wanted to hurt.”

He didn’t answer but managed to rise to his feet.

“My lord, you could have a concussion. Let me help you to the carriage.”

“I must check on Ghost. I dreamed…” he stopped, unsure if what he said was correct. “I dreamed she was going to kick the front door down. I didn’t want her to do it and be feared among the villagers. Men kill what they fear.”

Aria listened and couldn’t help but remember what Sarah had told her happened fifteen years ago. Men had killed the animals after what happened to Harry Gable and his father.

“We’ll have to send someone to come and get Ghost. You can’t ride. Don’t be stubborn—”

She snapped her mouth shut when he reached for her cheek and ran his fingertips over it. “The last thing I remember is fading out and knowing you were alone. Were you hurt at all?”

His tenderness was difficult to resist. “No, my lord.”

“Grayson,” he corrected with the slightest smile. “Gray.”

He wasn’t well. In fact, there was a trickle of blood dripping down his neck. That had to be the reason he was speaking so tenderly to her and telling her to call him by his first name.

“Let’s get you to the physician and then we can discuss what to call each other.” She took his arm and led him out of the coffee house.

When they stepped outside, she scrunched up her shoulders and looked up at the sky. It was free of birds. The ground, however, was not.

They saw the bird’s bodies in the grass under the window. Gray broke free of her aid and reached them first. He gazed down at them, his eyes sparkling with tears that didn’t fall.

Aria watched him bend and gently gather the dead birds in his arms. She remembered him shoveling the Gable’s front yard and stopping the shovel before it hit the small dead bird in the snow. She scolded him gently while following him just beyond the tree line. Was the forest safe? She looked up at the tangle of bare branches above her. Were those birds?

When he laid the bodies down and began covering them with rocks, she knew he meant to bury the poor birds, and she thought she understood why; they died trying to save him. But she said nothing else and helped him carry the rocks instead.

Perhaps not so remarkably, Ghost pushed him toward the carriage with her long nose and followed behind without a tether when they started moving.

Now, that the marquess’ presence filled the small space, the inside of the carriage felt infinitely smaller than it felt on her way to the coffee house.

Sitting across from him, Aria found herself breathing harder at the touch of his knee against her thigh. She was glad he was half hidden in shadow.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, rather than ask if what was settling over her was some kind of paranormal, monumental truth. He could communicate with animals. Really and truly. It made her heart race and skip. And why should it not be true? Was it more monumental than traveling back in time a couple of hundred years? She felt on the verge of an anxiety attack like never before. How had her life gone from the drab, daily grind of teaching to keep her family afloat to some Aria in Regency land spectacle?

“You might want to wear breeches when you leave the castle from now on,” the marquess told her, sounding quite well. “It will be easier if you need to use your legs to kick.”

“Oh, so you finally accept that I can fight?”

“You felled my guards,” he reminded her. “More than that, you unarmed me. I never doubted that you could fight, Miss Darling. I just didn’t realize until today how trouble doesn’t sway you. If you are going to walk into it, as you did today, you should be properly prepared.”

His voice—or maybe it was his words—maybe it was both—seeped into her flesh, her blood, her bones until she was filled with the sound of him, consumed by his slightest touch on her leg.

“Are you feeling ill, Miss Darling?”

“Hmm?” Wasn’t she just asking him how he felt? Had he answered? “Why are you changing the subject to me?”

“Because your breathing is labored and you’re fanning yourself with your hand.”

She felt faint too. He didn’t mention that. “It’s hot and cramped in here,” she replied coolly and shifted her legs farther away from his.

“Are you smiling?” she asked, squinting her eyes at him.

“No.”

“Liar. I can hear you.”

“Miss Darling, what did I tell you about that kind of talk? You can hear me smiling? Come, now.”

“But I’m right, aren’t I?” she stated rather than asked.

He didn’t answer. Then, after a moment of silence between them, “You amuse me.”

She was genuinely happy that she brought amusement to his life, but compared to the mountain of obstacles before them, amusement fell panting by the wayside. “You frighten me, my lord.”

“Has there been a time when you weren’t frightened by me?” His husky voice echoed in the shadows and settled like a blanket around her shoulders.

Should she tell him the truth? She wanted the truth in return, and she wasn’t sure she would get it. “Today I felt it when I realized you were communicating with the birds, stopping them from attacking those screaming men. And that raven…” She shivered thinking of how close it had been. “I’ve seen it flying around you before and I think it might have been about to attack me because I was covering you, but it flew away the second your arms came…around…me. And Ghost…”

“What about Ghost?” the marquess asked quietly without a trace of anger or defense in his tone.

“It seems she can understand you.”

“Animals communicate differently than we. Ghost can sense my feelings, and she responds to them. Just as you say you can hear what people say without words? So it is with any living thing we care about. Words are not always necessary.”

“I understand what you’re saying, but you were stopping them with telepathy. You were inside the coffee house. The birds were outside. You weren’t sensing anything from them or them from you, unless it was some kind of gift.”

“Gift?”

“Yes. You can communicate with animals. That’s a gift.”

“I can’t communicate with animals, lady. I’m not so arrogant to think they understand and obey me. Again, heed my warning not to speak of this with others, or I fear the animals might suffer.”

And there was the truth behind it all. The animals would suffer. “I won’t speak of it,” she promised. “But tell me, do you really deny communicating with those birds and Ghost? And what about that raven?”

He lifted his fingers to his temple. “I can’t communicate with them, but…”

“Yes,” she urged quietly.

“While I was passed out, I…I dreamed that I could, you know, communicate with animals. There was Ghost wanting to break down the door and the raven wanting me to awaken to stop the birds…” After a short, pitiful sound escaped him and compelled Aria to rest her hand on his knee, he continued. “Perhaps I can communicate with them, but I don’t remember ever doing it deliberately. Everyone else seems to believe I can. Even you. Perhaps I can.”

“If you really don’t know, then maybe you made yourself forget.”

He was quiet for the remainder of the trip. When they reached the castle Aria left the carriage first and called the physician.

She wouldn’t allow the marquess to get out of the carriage until the physician arrived. When he did, he ordered that the marquess be brought to bed to rest and for observation over the next few days.

“I’ll look for the door myself while you recover,” Aria told him an hour later when he was urged to remain in his bed by the two nurses of Dartmouth. “Maybe Will can help me.”

“He already knows too much,” the marquess grumbled, sounding more like a bear than a man. “I’ll come with you. I’m perfectly fine—”

“Oh my goodness, are you kidding me right now?” she said as he left the bed again. “How stubborn can one person be?” She ignored his pouty glare. “Get in that bed right now or I’ll beg Will to take me back.”

She liked that her threat worked. It meant…something, didn’t it? Did he hate the Gables so much that he wouldn’t allow her to need their help? Or—

“Are you jealous?”

She thought he could handle her directness, but he threw back his head and laughed before he climbed back into bed. Clearly, Aria thought, watching him, her question rattled him though he tried way too hard to pretend it hadn’t. What kind of laugh was that anyway? It couldn’t be genuine. It was as if he was holding nothing back, His mouth was wide open, and his eyes were half closed as he emanated a nervous, high-pitched sound that was every bit as endearing as his nose scrunching up when he looked at her as his laughter faded.

Adorable, she thought succinctly and folded her arms across her chest like a shield to ward off his extraordinary charm. Not only was he so handsome she didn’t think she would ever get used to looking at him, but he was adorable. “Are you going to answer the question?”

“No, it’s too ridiculous.”

“Is it?”

“Miss Darling,” he said with a faint hint of his elusive smile. “I have never been jealous of anyone or anything a day in my life. I simply don’t want you around a dangerous man like Harry Gable.”

“That’s a relief, because I wouldn’t ask Will to spend time alone with me checking doors if you were jealous. Well, have a good rest.” She breathed a little sigh and turned on her heel to go.

She waited with breath held for him to summon her back, but he didn’t. He let her go. Well, then, he said everything he needed to say. She hurried out of the castle before the marquess could call her back. She took her coat, but the weather had changed and left wet, melted snow in its wake.

She knew the way to the Gable’s holding. The marquess would be angry with her if he discovered she’d gone out alone, but she was too annoyed to care. Exactly what was so funny about him being jealous of Will?

She was sure he liked her, unless—wait! What if this was all part of his magnetism, the stuff that oozed out of him on the dance floor? He was a playboy, wasn’t he? She’d seen his sultry smirk at the women who watched him with hungry eyes.

They wanted him in bed, and his eyes said, “yes, let’s go.” Was all this tenderness and attention a ploy to get her into his bed? It worried her because she wasn’t sure she could hold up her fist and shout in triumph. She’d wondered a few times already what he would be like in bed.

She was a virgin, though she’d come close once or twice with Freddy Harkin when she was sixteen. Freddy was eighteen and putting the pressure on her to go all the way. She didn’t let him have his way but stopped speaking with him altogether.

There was no time in Aria’s life for a boyfriend or a child. Guys didn’t usually get her blood burning like molten lava through her veins. But Lord Grayson Barrington Marquess of Dartmouth in the year 1795 did.

When she climbed the steep hill and crossed above the western wall of the castle, she looked down at the small roof where she’d seen him dance for the first time. She would never forget how beautiful he looked, like an enchanting faerie dancing to music only he could hear.

She heard a sound like a dry twig crack. She turned but saw no one behind her. For an instant she thought her door might appear. Of course, she would run straight to it. Wouldn’t she?

Another sound grew into footsteps, and she thought about running. The Gable house wasn’t much farther.

A hand grabbed her shoulder and stopped her from moving. She spun around, ready to kick, and saw Will. He smiled, exposing a deep dimple in his cheek. The marquess should be jealous of Will Gable. He was kind, helpful, and handsome.

“What are you doing here alone? Did you and the marquess bicker?”

“No, nothing like that.” She told him about going to the coffee house and how the men attacked the marquess and struck him in the head. After Will admonished her for going to an establishment that had banned women, he asked about the marquess’ wound and how serious it was. She let him know what the physician said and followed Will into the house at his invitation.

“My mother is eager to see you, and Harry is working at the mill so you will not run into him.”

He brought her to the sitting room and offered her a seat near the roaring hearth fire. He smiled at her as if she was his home and he’d been away for a year.

At any other time in her life, she might have been happy to see such a reaction from a kind, handsome man like Will, but after the marquess had torn away all her defenses with his piercing, searching gazes, what made her happy had changed.

“I’ll let my mother know you are here.”

She nodded and watched Will break away from her and leave the room. She wiped her brow. She had to find the door today. What made her happy had changed. The thought boomed through her mind. Dancing again—dancing with the marquess—staying here with the marquess—no! “I can’t stay with him,” she admonished herself. “I must go no matter how much of my heart is already lost.”

She closed her eyes and brought her mother to the forefront of her mind. Her mother needed her, and she would go.

She didn’t see the little mouse watching her from behind the leg of another chair.