Page 18 of A Touch for All Time (For All Time #3)
A ria spent the third day in a row talking out loud to Mrs. B. She hoped her old friend heard her. There was nothing left to do but entreat her benefactor to help her yet again. “If this was all your doing to get me to marry your grandson and have his sons, I’m sorry to disappoint you but you should have chosen a young woman who didn’t care what happened to the people she loved and left behind. Do you think I’m like Gray’s mother? Do you think I can just leave my parents in such dire straits? My brother? You chose the wrong girl. Yes, I could love Gray in different circumstances. I know I could. But you knew me, Mrs. B. I mean, I thought you did. You took me from them on my brother’s birthday.” She stopped to blow her nose and wipe her eyes. “But I forgive you. Just knowing there was a man who once lived—even if I am the only one who believes it—a man whom I could have given my heart to, is enough to help me forgive you. Just please, please bring me back before I’m completely lost to him, and I betray my family.”
It was the third day without finding the key. Maybe Mrs. B. couldn’t hear her. Maybe she was ignoring Aria’s call for help.
Aria left her room and went in search of the marquess. His presence drew her, compelling her to question others about his whereabouts. She checked the dining hall, the sitting room, and his private solar, but she couldn’t find him and no one she asked had seen him. Sarah suggested Aria go look outside, in the woods between the castle and the eastern village.
“You know a lot about him,” Aria complimented with a smile.
Sarah nodded and turned two shades darker red. “He was my first friend, that’s all. After his mother left, he went off on his own path. But I was always here cleaning his chamber. I watched him go so deep inside himself, no one could reach him. I couldn’t reach him—and I tried. Many of the girls, whether ladies or chambermaids, tried, but no one touched him. It seems though, as if you have. He’s been smiling again.”
“I’m selfish, Sarah,” Aria confessed. “I don’t want him to let anyone else touch him, but I can’t stay here. I must return home. He will be—”
“He will be broken, mayhap beyond repair,” Sarah finished for her. “Can you not see that he loves you, Aria? He makes it obvious enough by the way his face lights with joy when you walk into a room. I can scarcely believe my eyes when I see the way he smiles when he looks at you, whether you are looking at him or not. He ignores the other girls—and when it comes to the marquees, they are sometimes difficult to ignore. But he only has interest in you.”
They were words Aria would have loved hearing in any other situation but this one. Now, they felt like knives being flung at her body. “How is Will?” she asked to change the topic. She knew she made a mistake when Sarah frowned at her.
“He is a fool,” his sister sighed. “But he is resilient.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“I know.” Sarah smiled at her and sent her on her way to find Gray.
She took a coat that one of the seamstresses called Aggie made for her. Aria marveled at how quickly the seamstresses worked, crafting gowns, coats, petticoats, and more in days. This coat, dyed a rich royal blue, was fashioned of lightweight wool for the warming weather. It had claret embroidery around the cuffs and hem, and claret piping around the thin hood. She wished she could take it with her when she went home.
She left the castle and followed Sarah’s directions. She entered the tree line around the castle grounds and looked around. Every inch looked the same. Every tree, almost identical to the one next to it. She called Gray’s name and listened for a reply but even the birds went silent. She walked deeper into the forest, calling out. She looked around again. She couldn’t see the castle or the village. Just trees. She was lost. For a minute, she panicked. Having grown up in New York City, she had no experience with forests. But also growing up in New York City helped her to swallow back her panic and get ahold of herself.
She looked up at the arboreal canopy trying to see the birds. Were there any up there? “Hello,” she called up. “I’m looking for Gray. The marquess. I know you know him. Can you lead me to him please?”
She waited, feeling a bit foolish for talking to the birds as if they understood her. But after another few minutes, she heard a familiar sound from above.
The croak of a raven.
The bird soared toward her just beneath the canopy. Its wings were blacker than a moonless night. Its beak and eyes, legs and feet were all just as dark. It folded its great, glossy wings just as it landed on the forest floor in front of her.
There, it simply stared at her.
“Toric. I remember your name,” she said to the animal. “I’m lost. Please lead me to Gray.”
At once, the bird unfurled its wings and took off. She was about to call out for it to wait, but she realized it was flying toward her and then away again, helping her keep pace.
She wanted to stop her brisk pace and take a minute to marvel at the fact that animals understood her. Could they all understand what she said? And not just what she said, but what every human said? She thought about the little parakeet her mother had found last summer and how her mother stopped to talk to it every time she walked past its cage. Did the parakeet understand her?
While she pondered the wonder of it all, she heard the faint hum of the wind, the soft singing of birds, the snap of dry twigs when a roe deer walked on it. Together it all took on a musical quality.
Following a bird while the forest sang around her made Aria feel a kind of freedom she hadn’t felt in years. Her shoulders didn’t feel weighed down with worries and responsibilities. She had the mad urge to skip and dance her way along the path Toric led.
And then she came upon him in a small clearing. The music of nature rang out louder. Not everyone heard the song, but it lifted the spirit of those who did. Grayson Barrington heard it. He moved to it. Alone, he danced for the sheer love of dancing and expressing himself through movement.
Breathless, Aria watched him spread his arms and toss back his head. His ebony locks swung back and then fell over his eyes when he bent forward and bowed his head. He folded his arms as gracefully as Toric had when it landed.
He saw her through eyes eclipsed by his raven hair. She knew it was coming and her heart beat frantically, thumping in her ears, adding to the music of the woods. He didn’t make her wait but smiled when he saw her—as he did every time he set eyes on her.
Did he care for her as Sarah had said?
He didn’t stop dancing but spun and twirled in perfect pirouettes and pas de basques. He leaped in graceful jetes. She marveled and felt moved to tears when he incorporated contemporary movements in his dance. His extension was impressive, creating beautiful lines. He used his breath as the force that fueled his movement. She was too busy mesmerized by his breathtaking contractions and releases, his soft falls and recoveries to notice the squirrels, foxes, pine marten, and deer all still with their eyes on him.
He was a master at isolating his moves, popping—or what he called ‘twitching’, with an almost natural ease and power.
He came closer, his dance coming to an end. Placing his palm over his chest, he rolled and popped his chest out three times as if his heart compelled his movements.
She smiled when he reached her. “You’re beautiful.” The instant she spoke, she blinked as if waking from a spell. “Your dance is beautiful. That’s what I meant to say.”
He gave her a doubtful smirk that turned soft the instant a blush rushed across her face. “I dream of touching you.” He feigned surprise and covered his traitorous mouth. “I dream of dancing with you. That’s what I meant to say.”
Aria didn’t know which was more intimate and giggled at the poor comparison.
“How did you find me?” he asked.
“Toric led the way. I was lost.”
He gave the bird perched on a bare branch a few feet away a curious look. “Toric doesn’t usually offer his aid to strangers. Thank you, old friend.”
The bird croaked and flew off.
“Gray, can all animals understand humans?”
He took her hand. His was warm, as was his gaze when he pulled her toward the center of the clearing. “I’ll tell you the answer if you dance with me.”
She followed, and without telling him what she was doing, stepped into him, close to his chest. His arm came up instantly to hold her, but she stopped him, taking one arm and closing it around her waist. He smiled. She took his other hand and held it up and away.
“This is a more intimate way to dance in the future,” she let him know with her body a hair’s breadth away from his. She could feel his heat radiating off him. It felt nice in the cold. Her steps were loosely taken from the waltz, but she went where they took her.
He caught on quickly and swirled her around the circle until she threw back her head to laugh. When her gaze settled on him again, she saw that he’d been staring at her. At her neck. She blushed a little and then leaned her head on his chest.
His heart beat against her cheek just before he pulled her one step closer. Holding her hand, he pressed it to his chest and held it as if it were a treasure.
She’d never been held so. Was it because she’d never had time? Or could she have had all the time in the world and still never found a man like him?
Sighing against him, she closed her eyes and let him naturally lead. He held her, safe against the weather.
Around them, the animals dispersed. All were happy their “Grayson” had returned. They squeaked and buzzed and made a variety of other noises. Was it as they had done when he was a boy with no human friends? They had all been there for him, with him when his mother left, and when Gable and Cavendish and their friends beat him to a pulp. They were there when his grandmother left—until Harry killed Abigail the goose. Because he loved his friends, he’d pushed them away.
“All animals have the ability to understand human language, if they hear it enough,” he told her as promised. “They pick up emotions first. It’s more instinctual than learned. Most humans don’t communicate with them, so they never learn to interact.”
“But you don’t communicate by speaking to them,” she pointed out.
“I can communicate through telepathy,” he told her. “Thanks, I’m told by Harper, to my distant grandfather.”
They spoke briefly about the Ashmores. Aria didn’t tell him Harper was his mother’s sister. That truth was for Harper to tell.
Finally, they headed back to the castle where a steaming hot meal of partridge and turnip stew with fresh bread awaited them.
Harper appeared beside his chair and slipped into the one next to it. “You weren’t dancing in the forest, were you?”
He didn’t answer but spread his gaze over everyone in the dining hall with the slightest of smiles curling his lips.
“You know what the doctor told you, Grayson. Are you dense?” Harper leaned forward to set her angry gaze on Aria on the other side of him.
Gray’s smile vanished and was replaced by a pout that made him look like a repentant puppy. “Why are you snapping at her? I left the castle three hours ago, long before she found me.”
“Did you stop him?” she asked Aria.
“You know I do as I please,” he interrupted, leaning forward to block her view.
Aria understood why Harper was angry. Aria had been careless with him. She was wrong, and the very least she could do was not hide behind him but admit it. “No, I didn’t try to stop him.”
He turned to her and reached for her hand.
Harper covered his hand with his and stopped him. “Do you want to let your enemies know what your weakness is?”
His hand retreated slowly. His eyes told her he was sorry.
“Grayson,” Harper said in a low voice, but loud enough for Aria to hear. “You shouldn’t touch her, and especially not so intimately. Don’t let Cavendish or Harry Gable know how you feel about her. It puts her at risk. Remember they hate you. Hurting her is just as good as hurting you.”
What? A wave of confusion went through Aria. Hurt her?
“And don’t think you can touch her in private and remember to catch yourself from doing it in public,” Harper continued. “Your enemies would jump at the chance to do something that will make you lose your title. What would you do if she’s found dead, Grayson?”
His gaze turned deadly in an instant as it slipped to Mr. Cavendish across the room.
Aria’s stomach flipped—and not in a good way. She felt sick. Would Mr. Cavendish really try to kill her to hurt Gray? She turned her diamond-hard gaze on him. Let him try.
“Grayson,” Harper pressed, “Keep your cool. Stay calm.”
He took a breath through his nose and blew it out like a dragon getting ready to burn a kingdom—or his most hated enemy.
Almost instinctively, Aria spoke his name softly. “Gray.”
He turned away from Cavendish and returned his attention to Aria. “I’ll be more vigilant.”
“You too, Miss Darling,” Harper warned. “Whatever you feel for him must wait.”
How long? Aria didn’t ask. She didn’t want to know. She didn’t have the luxury of time. She nodded, and brought her spoon to her lips, though she felt as if she were going to be sick.
She understood. No touching. It was different when the choice was her own. Now, she had felt his heart beating against her cheek. When she’d been held within the circle of his arms and danced around a forest clearing. No touching. They couldn’t even pretend. Harper was correct. They would forget in public. One small mistake and she could be in danger.
It was a good thing, really. They couldn’t touch. That included kissing, or just reaching for a feather in his hair. It was for the best. Soon as she found that key—
“Also,” Harper went on, “take care of yourself. You’re not an infant, Grayson. If the doctor says no dancing, then no dancing.”
At that moment the castle physician walked by the table and paused upon seeing Gray. “You can dance, young man. Enough time has passed for me to observe that you’re well.”
Gray brightened considerably. “Thank you.”
When they were finished, he asked Aria and Harper to meet him in his dance hall above stairs. “And Harper, please bring your violin.”
Aria smiled behind her fingers when Harper grumbled under her breath and set about her task.
Aria walked with her to her chambers, where she retrieved her beautiful violin. Aria wished she knew how to play an instrument. She’d like to play for Gray while he danced.
“I really am sorry I let him dance earlier,” Aria said as they went to Gray’s dance hall. “Even though it was okay, I didn’t know that, and I should have stopped him.”
Harper glanced at her and nodded with an exhaustive sigh. “He’s hard to tame, that one.”
“Hasn’t he been tamed enough?” Aria asked her quietly.
Harper stopped walking. Aria stopped with her and looked at her shoes. “Yes. I guess he has.”
“Maybe instead of trying to get even more control over him,” Aria went on gently. “Help him cut the strings.”
Harper leaned in closer. “That’s not what you’re here for.”
Aria shrugged and smiled. “I’m not so easy to tame either.”
“What will you be able to do if you’re sent back, no longer useful. Back to the future while he’s here making Sarah fat with his children?”
Did she have to go so far? Aria sped up her steps. Now she couldn’t get the image out of her head.
“You confuse me, Miss Darling.”
Aria turned to her. “Why?”
“Are you in love with him or not?”
Aria’s mouth went dry. How should she answer that? Harper might as well be his mother asking a question like that. “It’s a bit early to—I mean I like him, sure, but—it’s difficult not to fall in love with him.”
Harper smiled and kept going. Thankfully, not pressing Aria about it further.
When they reached the hall, Gray was already there warming up.
Aria envied him that he was able to do what he loved most. She also liked looking at him while he stretched his long, shapely legs on the bar.
When he saw her, he smiled. There were people in the future who smiled when they saw her, but not every single time. Gray made it clear that she pleased him no matter what was going on in his life.
Without speaking a word, Harper took her place on the stool and readied her violin to play it.
Aria thought she was going to sit and watch him dance, but when he lifted his leg off the barre and went to the corner nearest her to retrieve something from the shadows, her blood swooshed loudly in her ears.
He went to her carrying something that hung from his fingers like a cloth.
“I had this made for you,” he said thickly. “I used your tiny skirt as a model for something a bit less scandalous in the ballroom.” He opened his fingers and let the peach silk fall over them. “The women tried to match the color of your Dartmouth top. This was the closest they could get to it. Are you disappointed?”
Aria stared at his offering. If she wasn’t mistaken, that was silk chiffon. She reached out to touch it. As expected, it felt like a sheer veil in her fingers. “Silk chiffon is very costly. I couldn’t wear it.”
Immediately, he gave her a pout that made her want to give in to his every request. “Why can’t you wear it because it’s costly?”
She took it from his hand and held it up to her waist. It was made of three sheer layers that fell at midcalf. She looked down at herself and then closed her eyes. No. She wasn’t meant to wear ballet skirts anymore. What if she fell here in this century and broke something? She’d never recover.
“Gray, it’s beautiful, but it’s for me to dance in, right? I can’t. I can’t da—”
He closed his fingers around her waist and lifted her straight up into the air. Then set her down as softly as a feather. “I won’t let you fall, Aria.”
When she still hesitated, he asked her to just try the clothes on. The ladies would be disappointed if she didn’t at least try them on.
She agreed and disappeared behind a screen closing off another shadowy corner with a clean bucket inside. She hurried. The skirt fit perfectly around her waist with plenty of room for spreading her legs if she danced. There was a small top with it, the same color peach that made her smile warmly at the thought of whoever dyed the fabric trying to match her pink Dartmouth sweatshirt.
She dressed in the set they made her, keeping on the hose she already wore. There was no mirror to see herself, but Aria filled with tears—an ocean of them waiting to spill forth from her. She felt like a dancer wearing these clothes. She hadn’t felt like a dancer or hoped to be one in so long, it was incredible how deeply she missed it. Before she stepped back into the light, she heard Harper’s voice.
“So, you’re both on a first name basis.”
“Yes,” Gray replied.
“And you had a costly skirt made for her, thoughtfully trying to match it to a color she likes.”
“Harper,” he drawled, “do you have any other obvious observations to make?”
His aunt said nothing more and began to play her violin.
When Aria stepped into view, the music stopped. “I haven’t seen twenty-first century fashion on anyone in a long time,” Harper said with a smile aimed at Aria. “You look like a dancer.”
Gray said nothing but just stared at her. His eyes dropped to her legs donned in hose visible behind the flowy chiffon. Then he smiled. “It’s perfect.”
She blushed and took a seat near Harper rather than go to him and be tempted to dance with him.
He surprised her when he sat beside her instead of dancing. When Aria asked him what he was doing and why he wasn’t dancing now that he had the go-ahead from the physician, he shrugged his shoulders.
“I don’t feel like dancing alone.”
“You’ve never danced any other way,” Harper, pausing in her song.
He looked at her and laughed softly as if continuing their previous conversation. “That’s correct, but now it all seems a bit dull.”
“Dull?” Aria asked him, her eyes going wide.
“Yes. Now that I might finally have someone to dance with, I find the prospect of dancing alone dull.”
“So, you’re not going to dance?” she asked incredulously.
“I might never dance again.”
She couldn’t tell by his stoic expression if he was joking or not. She waited another minute but when he made no move to get up, she slapped her palms on her thighs. “Fine! I mean, I’m dressed for it.”
He tried to hide his satisfied smile when she stood up, but she caught the corners of his lips rise. She chose to ignore her defeat—and the cold floor and walked to the center of the hall on her bare feet.
“Harper, please play something slow—maybe a little haunting,” she requested.
“I know just the thing,” she said and lifted her bow to the strings.
Aria recognized the melody right away. She paused, but only long enough to draw back her tears. It was an old folk song she had danced to in a college play that she was in about King Arthur. The song was a poignant ballad about longing to go home. The score meant something different to her at the time. Now, she let the haunting melody direct her movements. She swayed and swirled into triple pirouettes, losing herself to the music as if it were casting its heavy spell on her. In fact, she didn’t know tears were spilling from her eyes until she spun, and the crystal droplets flew upon the marquess’ shirt.
Her next movement found her falling into his arms. She looked up into his eyes, not understanding for a second how she’d arrived there. Had she jumped? Had he caught her?
Then her hearing adjusted, and she heard Harper’s lovely voice singing the lyrics.
“I will go home, across thesea
Don’t look, my love, don’t look forme.”
There was more, but no more was needed. The eyes she stared into understood. Or he thought he understood.
“Aria, you make me want to give you the thing you want most. Even if it’s the thing I think will finally destroy me.”