Intertwine (32 page)

“Come. I want to hear everything about you. Slowly and from the beginning. Every possible detail.” He practically glowed as he looked at her. Emme found herself staring back, still thrumming from the wonder of him.

Smiling, she squeezed his hand, moving her fingers along his. “Where to begin?” She paused. “First of all, let me say I am nothing that Linwood assumed. Not even remotely close.”

James released a quick hiss. “Well, for your sake, I’m glad then. Though as I have said, it would have made no difference to me.”

“You might want to save statements like that until
after
I’ve told the rest of my story.” Emme gave a little knowing laugh.

James answered with a decidedly wicked grin. “That good, eh?”

“You have no idea. Trust me.” Emme shook her head. “And surprisingly, everything makes sense.”

His grin even wider, James leaned back into the tree, rubbing his thumb in absent circles across the back of her hand. “I can’t wait. You are American then? I hear it in your voice.”

“Yes. Well, I’m both actually. My mother is American, my father British. I spent time with my British grandmother growing up. She insisted that I learn how to be a proper lady, because we are Cavendishes on my great-grandfather’s side of the family, third cousins of the Duke of Devonshire, you know.” She said that last bit in her best upper-crust, old-lady voice.

“Impressive. I always knew you were respectable.”

Emme laughed, settling her palm further into his, loving how his larger hand engulfed her smaller one.

“And no husband? No betrothed either?”

“No, no one. You seem concerned about it.”

“Well, it has caused me much worry over the past weeks.” He reached over to her with his opposite hand and wrapped a stray curl behind her ear. He seemed excessively fond of that curl. “I don’t want there to be any impediments to our being together.”

“Impediments. . . .” Emme let out a puff of air and glanced away from him. “In some ways, a husband or fiance would be easier than the actual truth. Our reality is much more complicated, I fear.”

“Really? Are there obstacles then?”

Staring out over the lush Herefordshire countryside, Emme said quietly, “No, not precisely. Just pain, I guess. Compromise.”

“Compromise,” James said thoughtfully. Slowly. “I can accept that. So, who is the mysterious Mr. F?”

“Oh, goodness.” Emme gave a small laugh. “The locket . . . the locket is part of this whole odd tale.” She exhaled. “I’m not sure you will believe me.”

“Not believe you? Why wouldn’t I believe you?” James looked puzzled, a slight smile playing around his lips.

“It’s quite the fantastic story. If I didn’t have the memories in my head and some other items to prove it, I don’t think I would believe it either.”

“Does it involve these?” He released her hand and plucked at the pink earbuds still dangling around her shoulders. “Because I’m not sure they will become all the rage. Though the color is certainly . . . eye catching.”

With a wry face, Emme unwrapped the headphones from her neck, staring at them for a moment. Hot pink and shockingly anachronistic.

“Yes, actually it does.”

She paused, absently pulling the pink cord through her fingers. How do you tell someone you come from the future?

“Are you from the West Indies after all then?”

“Not exactly. Though I have visited there. Jamaica. The Mexican Riviera. I actually attended a cousin’s wedding in the Bahamas.”

James merely looked at her, one eyebrow cocked, encouraging her to continue.

When she didn’t, he said, “It sounds exotic and wonderful. Come now. Why do you hesitate? It’s not that bad, is it?”

“No, it’s not,” she agreed. “Nothing at all like we feared. Just shocking. Surprising.”

“Well? You are teasing me with the agony of this suspense. It’s hardly kind of you.”

Emme wrapped the earphones around her hand, studying them. There was no easy way to do this.

“I was born in the United States,” she said, raising her eyes to meet his. “In Colorado. In a town just outside Denver.”

James stilled, a quizzical look on his face. He tilted his head. “I don’t think I have ever heard of a place called Colorado. Where is it exactly?”

Emme grimaced. “That’s the problem, actually. Currently, it’s at the edge of what Americans call the Louisiana Purchase. There is probably not a single person in all of Britain who has been there.”

“I always thought you were a taste of adventure.”

“More than you ever anticipated, I think,” Emme smiled faintly.

She just needed to get it over with. Untangling the earbuds from her fingers, Emme reached into her stays and pulled out her phone. James gazed questioningly at it in her hand.

Shaking her head, Emme looked into his eyes. “Things have felt off to me from the beginning. I would know things that seemed impossibly contradictory. And the simplest things would feel foreign while other things would be familiar. . . . The problem, it turns out, is not where I’m from, . . . but
when.
. . .”

She allowed her last word to sink in. James instantly stilled. Emme caught and held his blue eyes with her own.

“James, I was born in 1983,” she continued, staring intently. “I left Britain in the year 2012. It seems the old oak tree really is a portal after all, just not to the netherworld.” She paused. “It’s a portal through time.”

Emme could feel his shock. Palpable. A gut-punched widening of his eyes, a hissing inhalation through his teeth.

James swallowed. Ran a suddenly shaking hand through his hair. Looked out over the fields and then after a moment turned his gaze back to her.

“You are serious, aren’t you,” he murmured, stretching out his hand to trace her jaw with one finger. “You are not teasing me.”

“No,” she whispered, her gaze pleading for understanding. For him to believe her. “I wouldn’t tease about this.”

James nodded slowly, his eyes glassy and unseeing as he grasped at the concept.

“I . . . I . . . You have actually managed to render me speechless. . . . I cannot remember the last time that happened.” A small smile touched his lips. James continued to run a finger along her jaw and then cupped her cheek with his entire hand. All the while, looking intently into her eyes. Finally, with another noisy swallow, he continued.

“Truly, 2012, you say? Two hundred years? That’s . . . astounding. . . . No, no, more like stunning, utterly astonishing,” he finished with another tentative grin.

“Mind-blowing? A bombshell?” Emme offered. And then with a teasing smile and a cocked eyebrow, “Totally cray-cray?” That one earned her a gentle laugh.

She wrapped her fingers through his on her cheek and turned her head, pressing a kiss into his palm. Grasping his hand, Emme pulled it from her face and held it loosely in her lap, tucking her palm into his. James stared at her for a long moment, considering, thinking.

“What caused your memory to return?” he asked at last.

“It was the purse on your desk. The one you pulled out yesterday morning. It was my purse. I remember having it with me right before I . . . before I came through the portal, I guess. How did you come to have it?”

“I found it. In the wreckage of the oak tree, just lying on the ground.”

Emme nodded in understanding. “Yes, well, that makes sense then.”

He glanced down at the phone.

“Is that one of the items from the bag? May I see it?”

“Of course.” Emme disconnected the earbuds, tucking them into her coat pocket and handed him the phone. She watched as he felt the weight of it in his hand, ran his fingers over its glossy surface.

“It’s heavy. Heavier than it looks.” James hefted it slightly. “I take it this is some oddity from the future? Is it made of glass?”

“The case is made of glass. It’s called a telephone. A smart phone, actually. And it . . . well, it does a ridiculous number of amazing things.”

“Really?” He looked at the phone and then back at her in disbelief. “I would have thought something from the future would look . . . more . . . future-ish. This seems decidedly anti-climactic. It’s just a lump of glass.”

Emme laughed. “Yes, I guess it could seem somewhat bland, but trust me, it’s pretty awesome.”

“Awesome?”

“Oh yeah.” Emme winked at him and reached over and pushed the home button, bringing the phone’s lockscreen to life. James inhaled sharply and started a little, glancing at her in surprise. She smiled lightly and slid closer to him, their arms touching.

“Without an internet connection, the phone is somewhat limited, but it seriously does just about everything.”

Emme swiped her finger to unlock it, typing in her passcode. James eye’s widened as the screen lit up with apps and folders.

“Good heavens,” he murmured. “What is all this then?”

Emme laughed. “Welcome to the 21st century,” she said, patting his arm.

Still smiling broadly, Emme proceeded to show him all the interesting features of a smart phone. Loving the way James gasped with delight over each new thing, crowing like a small child. His questions were never ending. They sat, shoulders touching, for several hours as Emme explained her life to him.

She showed him the maps of Herefordshire she had cached as part of her research. He found them endlessly fascinating, comparing what had changed and what was still the same.

She plugged the headphones back in and put them into his ears, showing him exactly why she hadn’t heard him earlier. James jerked his head in surprise at her raucous rock-n-roll.

“Okay, that might be a little too advanced for you right now,” Emme chuckled, stopping the track. “But trust me, you’ll learn to love it.” She flipped through her music until she found some Mozart. “Try this instead.” James’ eyes widen in wonder.

“It’s incredible,” he whispered, shaking his head in near awe. “I can’t even comprehend being able to listen to such beauty whenever I would like. With such a device always with you, how can you manage to concentrate on anything else?”

“Careful!” Emme chuckled at length. “You might start to sound like my mother with lines like that. But yes, to answer your question, a smart phone can be an incredible time waster.”

Digging into her photos, she showed him images of Marc, her mom, Jasmine, her apartment in Seattle, her cousin’s wedding outside Nassau, her sabbatical research work .

“So, you are a professor of history?” James asked. “You hardly seem old enough.”

“Now you’re being too kind,” Emme said, nudging his shoulder with her own. “I turn thirty this year, so I’m plenty old to have finished up a doctoral degree.”

“Thirty? Truly? Heavens, that makes you only a year younger than myself! And here I thought you were closer to Georgiana’s age.”

James continued to ask question after question, wanting to know about cars, airplanes, computers, television, current politics. The list was endless.

“So you mother works as a . . . what did you call it?” James looked quizzical.

“A flight attendant. She cares for people when they fly in an airplane and generally manages the passengers.”

James paused and then said, “Truthfully, I don’t think I can get my head around that right now. Flying through the air like a bird. But these cars sound fascinating. Tell me more about them. Can anyone drive one?”

Laughing, Emme told him about the airport fiasco with the small car and then showed him images of the upgraded BMW. He was suitably appreciative of its sleek, glossy look. She also remembered she had some video of Marc’s fight scenes. James watched the clips over and over, finding the martial art moves engrossing.

And he raised his eyebrows at the photo of her in tight jeans, moto jacket, knee-high boots and huge sunglasses.

“I think I could get used to seeing you dressed like this,” he said with a teasing wiggle of his eyebrows.

Emme snorted. “Well, that’s good, because I’m a little done wearing a dress all the time. It feels . . . a little too 19th century.” James laughed in delight. “Here,” Emme took the phone from him and scrambled to her feet. “I think I need a photo of you.”

“Me?” James said in surprise. “It creates the images too?”

“Of course! Now stand up and look manly, please.”

James laughed again and obligingly got to his feet. He leaned back into the tree, folding his arms, causing the muscles in his chest to bunch together. Hair windblown and disheveled. Eyes sparking with mischief. He lifted a knee and rested one booted foot against the trunk, his long overcoat rippling in the gentle wind.

He looked impossibly delectable.

Emme took several photos and then switched to video. “Say something,” she said, watching him through her phone screen. “Something smooth in that urbane aristocratic accent of yours.”

James stared at her with a penetrating smile on his face. Drinking her in.

“You are utterly irresistible,” he said. “Just when I think it isn’t possible to adore you more than I already do, you find a way.”

Oh my.

Emme raised her head from her phone and locked eyes with him. Answered his smile with her own. She stopped the video and walked back to him, snuggling against his side as he wrapped an arm around her, tucking her close.