Belmary House Book Three (17 page)

“I think I need to rest,” he said. “That was more difficult than before.”

“It does take a lot out of you,” Piper agreed. “It’ll probably be weeks before you build up any stamina.”

Ashford shook his head. They didn’t have weeks, or even days. The warning from the Povests was clear. They either had to go home or attack at once. Any dilly-dallying around in this century would only risk their ire, and they didn’t give more than one warning.

“I have to keep going,” he said, relieved to see Matilda return to the room, looking much calmer and less defeated than she had when she left.

She squeezed his hand as she passed. He saw that her eyes were red-rimmed and he wanted to halt the lesson at once to find out why she’d been crying.

“Let’s see some more,” she said, climbing onto the barstool. “Give me a show, I can really use one.”

Liam also noticed her recent bout of tears and placed a napkin on the bar in front of her. He crushed it into a ball in his fist and when he opened his hand, a yellow rosebud appeared in its place. Matilda’s grandmother, who’d been acting as their cheerleader while they practiced, jumped from her chair to fawn over his awe inspiring powers. He’d seen his sister do things like that a thousand times, nothing more than a cheap trick to amuse herself when she got sick of being stuck in the playroom. The napkin would return to its normal state in a few minutes but while it was a rosebud, Matilda seemed as impressed as her grandmother.

He did the same thing, shoving Liam out of the way. When he released the napkin, a butterfly floated around her head before flitting away. He knew it would end up a crumpled napkin in the corner, but both Matilda and her grandmother applauded, and he felt his strength renew itself. He could do anything now.

Piper stood back and scrunched up her brow. “Hey, Tilly,” she said. “Can you run to the library and bring the notebook that’s on my desk?”

Matilda readily agreed and as soon as she left the kitchen, Piper tugged at his arm. “Hurry up and light the candle again,” she said. “Before Tilly gets back.”

Not sure what she was on about, he flicked his hand at the candle, knowing it would work again. Except, it didn’t. He tried harder, thinking his overconfidence must have got in the way, but nothing happened. Piper handed him her handkerchief.

“Do your fancy move again. Make a butterfly or a flower. Whatever you can.”

Flustered, he took the handkerchief and repeated what he’d done before. It floated to the table and lay there in a small linen heap. Matilda came back with a notebook clasped to her chest and he felt his face burning at his failures. He didn’t want her to see him as a bumbling fool, not when she’d been so impressed when he succeeded.

He focused his intentions back on the candles and they lit up, one after the other. He picked up the handkerchief and tried with it again, making it fall in a cascade of pink and red petals as he released it from his fist.

“Oh, that’s pretty,” Matilda said, smiling at him broadly, the reward he’d been longing for.

“I knew it,” Piper said. She took the notebook and slapped it down on the table. “This was a ruse to get you out of the room. Ashford can’t do anything when you’re not around.”

“That’s completely untrue,” Ashford said, even as he got a sinking feeling that it was true.

“You did seem to struggle when she left a bit ago, dear,” her grandmother said. He would have scowled at her if he didn’t think she’d hit him.

Piper pointed to the door, and Matilda shrugged, leaving the room again. Determined to show her theory up as codswallop, he blew out the candles and tried to light them again.

“I’ll be damned,” Liam said. “It’s true then, she’s your catalyst.”

“Nonsense,” he said, focusing harder. “I lit the candle while she was gone.”

“What are you talking about?” Piper asked.

“He’s not talking about anything worth hearing about,” Ashford insisted, continuing to stare at an unlit candle.

“I’ve only known of one instance of it before,” Liam said. “Though of course I’ve read about it quite a few times.”

“I really need to see what books you’re reading,” Piper said.

“Of course. My wife had an extensive library related to her craft. She was a twelfth generation, and the most powerful woman I’ve ever known.”

Piper looked so intrigued by his offer to lend her the books, that Ashford thought she may have forgotten Liam’s idiocy that Matilda was his catalyst. When he still couldn’t light the candles, Liam recalled her question, and explained.

“If it’s true, and I think it is, then he won’t be able to do anything at all without either having her in the room, or using up all his energy to concentrate on her. You said yourself it was harder to light the candle that time. And that’s when Miss Jacobs wasn’t here.”

“You were thinking about her, weren’t you?” Piper asked.

Ashford took a deep breath, feeling as if he was being ganged up on. Matilda poked her head around the door and he waved her away, not wanting her to hear. Piper called her back in however, and looked at him expectantly. With another long sigh, he easily lit the candle.

“Damn it,” he and Liam said in unison.

Matilda demanded to know what was going on. “Can you really not do anything when I’m not around? But you were holding Solomon before I came down.”

“I was thinking of you,” he admitted.

“That’s sweet,” she said, taking his hand and moving close to him.

“Liam doesn’t seem to think so,” her grandmother said. “He seems upset about it.”

“Well, like I said, I only personally know of one instance, and it was rather a creepy relationship. The witch’s catalyst was little more than a slave, really.” He turned to Helen. “That’s certainly not the case here, though.”

“Certainly not,” Ashford bellowed, pulling Matilda closer. She got under his arm and refused to be led away by her terrified grandmother.

“Grandma, stop. I’m not a slave of any kind. If I am a catalyst, or whatever, then I choose to be one.” She looked up at him and his heart sank. “I’m happy to be able to help.”

She wanted to help. It was the thing he loved so much about her, the thing that was sure to get her killed. She was brave and kind and foolish, and he knew he couldn’t lose her.

“That’s good,” Liam said, putting his hand placatingly on Helen’s arm. “Because if we stand any chance at all against the Povests, then we need you, Ashford. Which means we need Miss Jacobs as well.”

This was what Tilly wanted, what she’d been longing to hear. But she wanted to hear it from Ashford, not Liam. Now it seemed like she was necessary baggage. They didn’t really want to take her along, but they needed her. The surge of triumph about getting her way was accompanied by a harsh kick of disappointment, especially as Ashford looked like he was about to burst with how much he disliked the new plan.

Helen managed to burst before he did, hollering that there was no way in hell her granddaughter was going anywhere again, except London, and it was going to be in this time.

“Gran, stop,” she said tiredly, worming out from under Ashford’s arm. Instead of pushing her away, he’d held her tighter after he’d heard Liam’s opinion about her. He was afraid for her, of losing her. “This is important to me,” she told both Ashford and her grandma.

“It isn’t your fight,” Helen pleaded.

“She’s right,” Ashford said. “You’ve no reason to be part of it.”

She smiled at his bossy tone. She hadn’t heard it in a while and found she’d missed it. Moving so she stood equally between him and Helen, she shook her head.

“It is my fight,” she said, taking Helen’s hand. “I learned from you to fight for what I care about, and I care about Ashford. I care about Kostya. I might be safer staying here and pretending I’m not part of it, but I’d never be happy again, knowing I could help and didn’t.” She dropped Helen’s hand and reached for Ashford’s, willing him to not be his usual stubborn self for once. “I know you don’t want me to be unhappy.” As she expected, he tried to interrupt, thinking he knew better than her, again. She squeezed his hand in a vice grip to get him to shut up. “We can go over all that later. Right now, we need to help Kostya.”

Helen dissolved into tears that Tilly knew were real, not a means to get her to do what she thought was best. Liam patted her arm, but she ran from the room.

“I’ll try to reassure her,” Liam said, eyes filled with worry.

“Leave her alone,” Tilly said. “I’ll talk to her in a little bit. There’s no use reassuring her if it’s not the truth. She’ll kick your ass for that.”

“What will you do?” Piper asked after a long silence.

“I suppose we’ll have to get back,” Ashford said. “It’s a long journey to Moldavia. We shouldn’t tarry any longer if it’s decided.”

Tilly sat down, she was so relieved she didn’t have to fight anymore. They were going to take action at last.

“Why would you go back first?” Piper asked. “Wouldn’t it be quicker to fly to where you need to go, then go back?”

“She’s a genius,” Liam said. “I never would have thought of that.”

Tilly felt stupid, because she hadn’t thought of it either, and had already been dreading the long, hard journey, either on horseback or in one of Ashford’s slow moving carriages, not to mention the ship to Europe. Piper ran for her tablet and pulled up a current map of Europe, citing the differences in borders since Ashford’s time. He showed her where the Povest coven resided in his time and she clicked over to an airline site. Within a few minutes they had tickets for the next morning, leaving from Inverness.

She caught Ashford’s eye, wanting to go up and pack, make him see that she would be fine, or even make him understand that if she wasn’t, it was her choice to be with him. She wanted him to stop feeling responsible for her and accept that they were meant to be together. He remained tightlipped, neither agreeing with anyone or helping with any of the planning. Knowing they’d have no such conversation, since he was only begrudgingly allowing her to go, she’d settle for being alone with him. If only he could stop feeling so guilty for everything.

She gave him a long look, which he fortunately understood and said their goodnights, dragging her away by her hand. She had to smother a smile at the caveman treatment, hoping he wouldn’t be so boneheaded when they were alone.

No such luck. As soon as they were in their bedroom, he dropped her hand. “This is madness, Matilda. Liam doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

“It looked like he did,” she said, beginning to fold her new clothes and carefully roll up her nineteenth century gown so she could wear it when they arrived back in that time.

She stuffed one stocking into another and tossed them onto the bed, deciding she was done with it. The whisky she’d slammed earlier was now just a throbbing headache, and her resentfulness that he might have lied to her came back in force.

“You’ve been placating me since yesterday, haven’t you? You never intended to let me go back with you until you realized I was a cataclysm or whatever.”

His shocked look told her she was right. “It’s a catalyst, and you’re not one.”

“Stop evading and answer. No, you don’t have to answer, because I’m afraid it’ll be more lies.”

“Matilda, I never lied.” He tried to reach for her but she stepped away.

“No, I suppose you never openly agreed that I was going back with you, but you—” she had to stop, feeling stupid and embarrassed. Was it worth it, tossing away her pride like this? Again? Why did he make her work so hard? “You comforted me and made me believe it. You said you loved me.”

He closed his eyes, his stern face tight with pain. “I do. I do love you. That’s why—”

“Don’t say it or I’ll topple you,” she said, holding out her hands. He stepped back, knowing she meant it, and nodded, remaining silently miserable. Why wouldn’t he fight with her, for her? “I’m going to sleep in with my grandma,” she said bitterly, unable to take the pain in his eyes anymore. It would all be so easy to remedy, if he let it.

She swept past him to the bathroom to get her toothbrush, and he grabbed her wrist, pulling her close to his chest and encircling her in his arms.

“Please don’t leave,” he said quietly into her hair. “Please let me be with you a little while longer.”

Exasperated, all the fight went out of her and she leaned against him. She wanted to tell him they could be together all the time, but he wasn’t ready to hear it, and she didn’t want to leave, not really. It was easy to block out the great danger they were about to face, avoid it with their own petty problems, but in her heart she knew she may lose him for good in a short time.

“I’ll stay,” she said, thinking he’d release her, but instead his grip tightened.

He tipped back her chin and crushed his mouth to hers, and she felt all his love in the kiss. It was why she could keep fighting the seemingly uphill battle, continue to sacrifice her pride. She knew they were meant to be together. They’d found each other by a preposterous accident, and been through the most grisly experiences together. She knew they were meant to see it to the end, whatever that may be. She’d willingly face certain death as long as he was by her side.

She tangled her fingers in his hair, grown unruly over the last weeks without time for a trim, and she leaned back to look at the mussed curls. He smiled wickedly and she pulled his shirt out of his pants, thinking for the hundredth time how easily he fit into her time. She’d thought he’d be awkward in anything but his frilled coats and breeches, but he filled out his jeans quite nicely.