A Slip In Time (25 page)

“And you? Do you hold any love for
me?”

“Hae ye no’ guessed
wha’
mo cáran
means?”

“My love?”

“Smart lass.” He lavished kisses along
her jaw and neck. “Aye, I love ye, if a heart can contain the
immensity o’ tha’ emotion.”

“I’m afraid, so afraid,” she whispered
against his mouth as he sought to reclaim hers.

“Afraid o’ wha’,
mo cáran?
O’ lovin’
me?”

“Afraid of loving you, only to lose
you.”

“Our love is a blessin’ we’ve both
been given, a blessin’ tae be treasured, no’ feared. Time canna
take tha’ from us, in any century. No matter wha’ may come, our
love will remain.”

He kissed her deeply then, a thick,
full kiss, extravagant and timeless. Julia gave herself completely
to that pleasure, loving him with her lips. As that sweet joining
continued, Julia felt a part of her flow out to him, even as a part
of him flowed to her.

Julia strolled beside the burn that
burbled cheerfully in view of Dunraven. Iron gray clouds planked
the sky overhead, while the wind blew high and bitter, whipping
crystals of ice into her cheeks. Still, Julia glowed with an inner
warmth, a warmth fueled by the fire of Rae’s love.

She felt expansive, radiant,
gloriously alive. Even the bleakness of the day could not dampen
her joy. She had only to think of her handsome Scots lord, of his
rich, opulent kisses, and that soon, very soon now, the doors of
time would open and she’d be able to step into his arms.

A small, mirthful laugh escaped her as
she moved among a thin band of birches and pointy firs. Such plans
she’d once entertained, such grand designs. Quite sensibly, she’d
proposed, upon attaining marriageable age, to choose a proper
gentleman on whom she’d lavish her heart. He’d be cultured, of
course, well educated and traveled, striking in every way and
fashionably attired. Most importantly, he would own those
qualities her father bore, compassion, selflessness, and a genuine
care for others.

Julia smiled to herself,
deeply pleased. She
had
found such a man, had she not, despite the time
and place? Oh, there were unfinished edges about Rae Mackinnon, and
his tailor left something to be desired, but she harbored no
complaints. Did he not possess the most splendid pair of legs to
gaze upon?

She emerged from the screen of the
trees and picked her way around some oversized rocks, still
following the stream. Her wait through the night, without seeing
Rae, had proved long and trying. “Faith,” he’d told her in parting
and faith did she cleave to. Surely, in his own time, Rae should
now be returned to the keep and present for the coming time
shift.

Julia glanced down at her pale green
dress, where it peeked from beneath her mantle. She, too, must
begin back and ready herself, before Lord Muir and his colleagues
invaded her chamber with their equipment. She had reworked another
of her morning dresses, removing the stays — a pretty frock,
patterned in rose and aquamarine that would set off her eyes.
Touching her hand to her corseted waist, she looked forward to
being free of it again.

Above the rushing of the water, the
steady clump of a horse’s hooves sounded the approach of a rider.
Julia turned to see who rode out to join her, then gasped to
discover Lord Eaton bearing down on her.

He reined his horse before her to a showy
halt, a smile spreading his lips and tilting his mustache. He
dismounted, fastening his amber gaze on her as he closed the
distance between them and removed his top hat. Though he continued
to smile, his eyes gleamed oddly, their flecks of red appearing as
miniature coals, burning hotly in their depths.

Julia drew back several steps, her
senses sharpened. “L-lord Eaton. This is a surprise. I thought you
were at Deeside with the others, enjoying the Scottish wilds and
looking for royals.”

He advanced on her one step, then
another. “That we did, exhausting ourselves on both counts. The
others decided to take the train on to Strathpeffer. I found myself
craving the comforts of Dunraven, and rode straight
back.”

“What possible comforts could you miss
at Dunraven that could not be found at Strathpeffer?” Again, Julia
retreated a couple of steps toward the burn. “It is a spa town,
after all, quite modern and filled with diversions, I am
told.”

“Ah, but there is one diversion it
does not possess.”

Once more, he close the space between
them, stepping so close his frock coat brushed the front of her
mantle, and his breath fell on her temple and cheek. Julia found
she could back no further without stepping directly into the
stream. Panic crested through her as Lord Eaton reached out and
stroked a finger along her jaw and into her hair, then twined a
lock around his forefinger.

“The town lacks brightness without
your presence,” he uttered in a low, velvet-sheathed tone. “I
could not stop thinking of you, Julia, left here, alone, with my
aged uncle and his friends.”

She dismissed his flatteries, so
typical of those he showered on anyone of the feminine gender. She
freed her hair from his grasp and moved along the edge of the
stream.

“Such blandishments,” she chided,
hoping to lighten the moment. “You knew I remained to assist his
lordship and his guests on their current work for the
Society.”

“Assist,
in the middle of the night?”

Julia froze in her footsteps, then
turned to face him.

“That is what truly preyed on my
mind.” His eyes glittered beneath half-hooded lids. “Yes, I know
your little secret. I’ve seen Uncle and his friends leaving your
room just before dawn, each one of them beaming with
gratitude.”

“You! You were the one lurking in the
passage,” Julia choked out with a mixture of shock and
anger.

“Righteous indignation? Tsk, tsk.” He
reached out to touch her cheek, but she slapped his hand away.
“Come now, you led me a merry chase all summer, tantalizing me,
teasing me — Miss Julia Hargrove, so prim, so proper, so
reticent.”

He smoothed one end of his
mustache, his gaze sliding over her from head to toe then back
again. “I underestimated you, my dear. Oh, it is clear now you were
waiting for someone with more to offer, larger titles, a fatter
purse. But I had no idea your appetites were so, how should I
say,
healthy.”

“How dare you!” Julia’s cheeks blazed.
“Your assumptions are entirely mistaken, sir. There is nothing
untoward in my relationship with—”

“Nothing untoward?” He
barked a laugh, cutting off her protests of innocence. “Night after
night, you allow four aging men into your bedchamber and see them
out again hours later, and this is not untoward? Not wholly
scandalous?”

His smile disappeared and the gleam in
his eyes hardened to a glassy shine. “Let us drop the pretense
shall we, Julia? No matter what has been transpiring in your
chamber, the mere exposure of it will ruin you in polite society
forever.” He paused, allowing his words to hang between them, then
dropped his voice, his tone turned silken. “Your secret need not be
revealed, however.”

Julia’s breath congealed in her chest
as he moved closer.

“I am superb at keeping secrets.” He
lifted a hand and toyed with the jeweled clasp of her mantle. “But,
I will have a boon for my silence.” His finger drifted to the
hollow of her neck, tracing it, then returned to fondle the clasp
once more. “As I see it, if your desires are so exceptional, what
is one more? There is no reason I shouldn’t partake of your
pleasures.”

“Never,” Julia hissed. She tried to
step away, but his fingers closed about the clasp and cloth at her
neck and pulled her against him.

“You might enjoy a man closer to your
own age, one who is more energetic, and dare I say, more
experienced. It’s a small price to keep your name untarnished. Call
it ‘gratitude’ on your part, if you’d rather.”

Julia fought his hold, jerking back. She
felt the clasp give way but he fisted the cloth of the mantle,
catching his fingers in the neckline of her gown as he did.

“You know I’ve desired you since the
moment we first met. You stir a man’s fantasies, Julia.” His breath
spilled hotly over her face, and he brushed his lips against her
hair.

“Let me go!” She shook with rage. “I
told you, you are wrong in every way, now free me or—”

“Or what? Do you think my uncle can
protect you? He cannot save you from the petty minds or malicious
tongues of others. Would you choose ruination over what I can give
you, long past when my uncle is gone? These codgers trifle with
you, but I will keep you well, surrounded by every
luxury.”

Julia vented a short, derisive laugh.
“As what, your mistress? Surely this is no honorable
proposal.”

His grip tightened on her mantle and gown,
while the fingers of his other hand dug into the flesh of her
arm.

“I will have you, Julia. You’ll not
deny me what you give so freely to a pack of old men.”

He assaulted her with a
wet, suffocating kiss. Julia recoiled under his aggression, but he
held her fast, trapping her by the cloth at her neck and pinning
her right arm to her side.
She struggled against him,
refusing to be conquered so easily. With her free hand, she struck
out, striking him about the shoulder, neck, and chest, but to
little effect.

Lord Eaton intensified his attack,
shoving his tongue into her mouth. Julia choked, then fought
fiercely, unable to breathe. He ignored her distress, twining his
tongue around hers, then thrusting deeper. Frantic, Julia beat at
his shoulder then grasped upward. Catching him along the side of
his jaw and neck, she sank in her nails and raked downward across
his flesh.

Lord Eaton lurched back with a shout,
breaking the kiss and releasing his hold enough for Julia to wrench
free. But as she did, she heard a tear of cloth, even as her mantle
dropped to the ground.

Icy air skimmed over her chest, but
there was no time to look to the damage. Julia started to run but
the jumbled mantle at her feet ensnared her efforts, sending her
off balance. Lord Eaton grabbed for her, catching her about the
hips. Together they pitched forward and collided with the rocky
ground.

Julia’s heart catapulted to her throat
as she felt her legs entrapped, Lord Eaton lying atop them. In the
next moment, he raised up and started to move over her. Quickly,
Julia scrabbled forward before he could pin her again with his
weight.

Clawing from beneath him, she gained
several feet but he grappled for her and caught her about the
knees. Instinctively, she kicked back, heeling him solidly in the
stomach and ribs. He grunted, loosening his grip, enabling Julia to
win free. But as she rose to flee, his hand closed around her ankle
and dragged her down once more.

Panic rioted through her. Before he could
secure his hold on her, Julia twisted around and slapped him full
across the face, her ring laying open his lip with a slash of
bright red.

Anger flared in Lord Eaton’s eyes and
he lurched for her. But Julia gained her feet and raced for the
horse. Lord Eaton rose, too, but promptly stumbled over a rock and
fell flat, face down.

Julia wasted no time in making good
her escape. The horse, left untied, shied when she first attempted
to catch up its reins. But as Lord Eaton rose, she soothed the
animal with a steady flow of words and managed to slip her foot in
the stirrup and mount. Urging the animal toward the castle, they
galloped across the green, Lord Eaton’s shouts ringing in her
ears.

Julia didn’t look back, couldn’t look
back, fearing she’d find the man still upon her. Reining the horse
before the side entrance, she cast herself down from the saddle
and ran for the door. Lord Eaton’s voice still sounded in her
hearing, growing louder. She dared a glance and found him much
nearer than she hoped, her advantage shrinking.

Swiftly, she entered the servants’
entrance and located the back stairs that led directly up to her
room. Thank God she’d learned of it from Betty days ago and had
followed it down earlier, rather than traveling the maze of
corridors and stairs she normally used.

Hurriedly, Julia ran up the stairs, a
catch forming in her side. Oddly, no one seemed to be about
Dunraven, the servants being few and presumably elsewhere. Julia
did not know whether to deem this as good or bad, but she hastened
on, panting for breath, the pain in her side expanding. As she
reached the last level, Lord Eaton’s heavy bootfalls sounded on the
wood stairs below.

Julia raced to her room, flinging open the
door and slamming it shut again. The chamber stood empty, Lord Muir
and the others having yet to come. She heaved for breath, deciding
what next to do. She must block the door, she knew, but there was
no bar for it. Then she remembered the key, kept atop the
armoire.

Normally, there was no reason to lock
the door, but now she seized the heavy key from its place and
quickened to secure the door. Her hands shook uncontrollably as she
fumbled with the key, trying to fit it into the lock mechanism,
then dropped it. A cry escaped her lips as she looked for the key,
at the same time hearing Lord Eaton’s voice calling
without.