Rachel Carrington (14 page)

“Well, the storm has intensified too badly, I’m afraid, for you to chance nature on your way home. You shall remain here until it has passed. I will tell Nettie to prepare a room for you. The news in town has the storm lasting at least two days. I must help in town. The people are frightened and do not have the help they need to secure their houses. I would ask Alexander to stay here with you until I return, but it would appear that he has disappeared. Perhaps he has gone to town ahead of me.” He glanced down at the woman he still held in his arms. “Are you feeling ill?”

Carla shook her head, the lump in her throat preventing speech. She looked into his eyes, saw his concern for her and hoped he read hers. Surely, fate wouldn’t be so cruel as to bring her into this time period and then take away her only reason for wanting to stay. Her hands slid down his chest, feeling the calming beat of his heart beneath her palm. “Please be careful,” she managed to whisper.

“I will be back before you even have time to miss me.”

She clutched at his arms. “Promise me, Sinclair.”

He eyed her strangely, but to reassure her, he complied. “I promise. I will have Nettie bring in some tea.

You and Miss Masters should stay close to the fire for as long as it lasts. I fear the shields on the chimney will not do much good against this type of rain that is coming in. It will get cold soon. Make sure you have your wraps and blankets before the fire goes out.” He brushed one fingertip down her cheek, over her lips. “You have no need to worry about me, Carla. I have been doing this for years.”

“Did your wife ever worry about you?” she queried softly.

His heart skipped. “She was my wife.”

Carla lowered her gaze. What must it be like to be called his wife? To know that she had the right to touch him, love him, worry about him? She stepped out of his arms. “I apologize. I did not realize that I had overstepped my bounds.”

He continued to stare at her for a long moment. “I apologize as well. We will talk more when I return.”

His gaze drifted back to the soothsayer. “You will stay with her?”

Letta nodded. “I will stay.”

Carla followed him to the door. “I’m sorry if I said anything I shouldn’t.”

Sinclair turned slightly and pressed two fingers against her lips. “Do no trouble yourself, my sweet.” He dipped his head and his lips replaced his fingers. The taste of his kiss reassured her, but still, she restrained herself from begging him to stay.

* * * * *

The rains came at midnight and still Sinclair had not returned. The fire flickered in the fireplace, a vain attempt to burn against the onslaught. In less than fifteen minutes, the flame died and Carla and Letta were left with only the oil lamps for light. Huddled beneath the thick blankets, Carla kept one eye on the entranceway, the chill of the air warring with the iciness of her soul.

“Could you try again to see his face?” she whispered in the stillness.

Letta, pulled from her own musings, angled her face toward the woman at her side. “Whose face did you want me to see?”

Carla felt a stirring of irritation. “The man in my life who is supposed to die.”

“I have already told you that I do not know. I could not see his face.”

“Well, do you know when he is supposed to die then?”

“No. I have only seen death in your life. I do not know when, how or who.”

“Great. Then we could be talking about something that’s going to take place years down the road.”

Letta frowned. “Not usually. Once I get a vision, it usually happens rather quickly.”

“You said you knew about my arrival. How long? How long before I arrived did you know?”

“One day.”

Carla swallowed hard. The information didn’t ease her fear. In fact, it had only intensified her anxiety.

* * * * *

The villagers huddled in family groups at the only parish, which had a remote possibility of sustaining the heavy winds and rains. Holding tightly to one another’s hands, they prayed and beseeched God for deliverance from the powerful storm.

As Sinclair’s eyes swept the masses of people, he couldn’t shake the feeling of impending doom that had settled around him like a familiar cloak. And for the first time, he wished Letta were with him to point him in the right direction.

“My daughter! My daughter!” The village woman screeched in dismay, her fingers clawing at the lapels of her husband’s coarse work shirt. “She’s out there. In this! She didn’t come in when I called to her. I thought she was with Joshua, but he says that she didn’t come in with him!”

The farmer, a horrified expression on his face, whirled to focus his attention on the sweep of the storm.

Even the darkness could hide the howl of the wind or the deluge of rain that was now soaking the fields.

“She’ll never survive in this. I have to go look for her.”

Sinclair settled a hand on the man’s shoulder. “I will go with you. Together, we will find her.”

* * * * *

Letta leaned back against the settee, moaning low in her throat.

“Are you all right?” Carla pushed the blankets aside to stand up. “Here. Lay down. Are you hurting?”

“My head.” Letta’s hands massaged her temples.

“I’ll go get Nettie. Perhaps she has some aspirin.”

Letta smiled. “If you mean headache powders, they will not help. I get these types of headaches when I am going to see…” she broke off, wincing as another pain stabbed through her right temple. She rolled to her side and drew her knees up closer to her chest. “It hurts.”

“You have these headaches when you see the future?” Horror twisted Carla’s features. “Every time?”

“No, not all the time. Sometimes, the pain takes different forms. I have been blinded. I have lost consciousness and I have suffered with severe stomach pains. All of these led to a vision.” She waved away Carla’s concern. “Do not trouble yourself over my wellbeing. This will pass.”

Carla, her interest caught, settled herself on the unyielding wooden floor beside the settee. “How long have you had these visions?”

Letta opened her eyes and then quickly closed them in an effort to ward off a wave of nausea. “I have had these ailments leading up to the visions for most of my life. I just was not old enough to realize what the visions were until I came of age.”

“You can’t be much older than eighteen now.”

Letta smiled. “I have just reached my twentieth year.”

“So you have suffered for twenty years with aches and pains because of these visions.” Carla pressed her back against the edge of the settee. “I believe I’d give them back.”

Letta laughed in spite of the pain. “I am afraid I do not have that option. I have been chosen. This is a gift.”

Carla eyed her dubiously. “In my world, we call things like this a curse.”

Letta’s eyes opened once more. “Your world has far too much knowledge, knowledge which will never be used. What good is so much intelligence if it does not help the people?”

Carla wasn’t so sure she followed or, if she did, if she agreed with Letta’s assessment of her own world.

There were still things she missed, her car, with its plush leather seats and push button air-conditioning, her penthouse and all of its amenities, but most of all, she missed Diane. But her desire to retreat to the twenty-first century was rapidly dwindling although she was determined to hold on to the belief that she would one day find her way back to the year 2004. She just wasn’t so sure what she would do with that knowledge once she discovered it.

* * * * *

The rain slapped against his face, blurring his vision. Sinclair swiped the linen handkerchief against the dampness and trudged on, calling the little girl’s name. The force of the wind bent the trees low, blocking his path and forcing him to detour, but still he continued.

As night gave way to dawn, the storm raged on, toppling trees and crushing shacks that had served as homes to the people in his village. The sky did not release even a ray of light to guide his way, but Sinclair knew these roads by heart. He’d grown up here, had learned to walk on these same roads, had played with the children who had grown up to be the villagers he now served as their Duke.

“Jessica!” He called loudly, but the wind carried his words back to him as lightning rent the sky. A shaft of light sparked at his feet and Sinclair dove for cover, out of the way of the dangerous current.

Thunder growled in the distance and the screaming wind obscured all but the sound of his own heart beating in his ears. He couldn’t return to the church house where the villagers were gathered without the little girl. He couldn’t face the mother and tell her that because of his own lack of comfort, he had been unable to go on.

Exhaustion crept into his bones and his skin iced over from the bite of the rain. His steps slowed as his stamina lagged. But determination motivated him and he continued on, his eyes sweeping in every direction, hoping, praying that he would stumble across the young girl who carried a piece of her parents’

heart.

He stumbled, his knees buckling. The mud squished against the fine fabric of his breeches and he pushed his fist against the wet, soft earth to gain his balance. Back on his feet, he swiped his face on the sleeve of his waistcoat and staggered forward.

Perhaps the fates intervened or maybe he was hearing things, but the sound of a small, childish voice reached his ears and Sinclair came to a dead stop, straining to hear the noise again. “Jessica?”

“Help me.” The plaintive cry came again, this time much louder.

Encouraged and rejuvenated, Sinclair’s pace quickened as he made his way through the tangled earth toward the voice. “Jessica, keep calling. I am almost there. Help me find you.”

“I want my daddy.” The little girl was huddled in a ball, pressed against the lone standing wall of what used to be an outhouse. The winds had long carried away the other slats. Only Jessica’s thin arms prevented the last remaining piece of wood from tumbling to the ground.

Sinclair rushed toward her, talking gently, soothing her. Gently prying her arms away from the wood, he transferred them around his neck and lifted her, taking her slight weight against his body. “I am going to take you to your mommy and daddy, but I need you to hold on tightly, Jessica. Do you hear me? Can you understand what I am telling you?”

“I’m scared,” the little girl whimpered.

His hand rubbed her back gently. “I know, but if you can just be brave for a little while longer, you will be back in your mommy’s arms soon.”

Resting her head against her savior’s shoulder, Jessica nodded, hiccupped and tightened her grip.

And for the first time in a very long time, Sinclair prayed without anger in his heart at the unknown deity who’d taken away his wife.

* * * * *

The tree branches lashed against the windows of the church house, eliciting screams from the women and forcing the men to climb to their feet to protect the church property. They quickly tacked boards into place to shield their families from glass shards and dragged heavy pews to bar the door buckling from the strain of the wind.

The low moaning didn’t cease even into the morning hours. The wind whined and wailed well past noon and as Sinclair banged against the heavy wooden door with his last vestige of strength, he wasn’t sure that he would be heard.

Jessica had long since fallen asleep against his shoulder, her face buried into the fabric of his waistcoat.

He’d protected her as best he could, but even now, the chances that she would catch a fever from the dampness were still extremely high.

“Anthony, there’s someone at the door!” Sinclair heard the cry from within and he sank to his knees, leaning against the wood for support. As the door creaked open, he managed to lift Jessica in his arms and pass her to the farmer looking down at him.

“By all that’s holy, it’s the Duke! Help me get him inside!”

* * * * *

Suddenly, Letta relaxed against the settee, her body growing still. She propped herself up on her elbows.

Across the room, Carla had fallen asleep in front of the fireplace, possibly in an effort to make use of the still simmering embers.

“Carla,” Letta called out hoarsely, her throat dry and scratchy.

Carla stirred, rolled to her side, blinked to acclimate herself to her surroundings and then she popped up, scrubbing the hair away from her face. “Letta! Are you all right?” She shoved the blankets down to her feet and scrambled out of the makeshift bed, rushing to the soothsayer’s side.

Letta caught Carla’s hands in hers, offering strength. “It’s over.”

Carla sat down on the edge of the settee. “What? What’s over?”

“Death has occurred.”

The blood drained from Carla’s face and she shook her head, stumbling to her feet, tugging her hands out of Letta’s grasp. “You can’t mean…no! I didn’t come across a chasm of time to meet a man like Sinclair only to be told that he’s gone!”

Letta frowned. “I never said that it was the Duke, Carla. We will not know that until we receive word from town. You should not assume that it was the Duke. I told you that I could not see his face.”

Some of the color returned to Carla’s face. “You don’t think it was him, then?”

Letta looked away. “I cannot be sure.”

Carla began to pace the drawing room with her arms wrapped around her waist. “How can you live like this? How can anyone live like this? I wouldn’t want to know if someone I loved was facing death, but you didn’t give me that choice! You came here and just told me! You didn’t even ask me if I wanted to know and now I’ve spent all night worrying that Sinclair might be the man who was supposed to die last night! How could you do this to me? How could you possibly think that your gift helps people? It doesn’t, Letta. All it brings is fear and helplessness and I don’t want to know anything anymore. I never wanted to know my future. So please, I’m begging you, don’t tell me anything more…ever. I don’t want to know what I’m facing because, honestly, I don’t know if I can take any more good news.” Lifting her skirts, Carla headed for the stairs. “I’ll be in my bedroom if you hear any word.”

Nettie, bearing a tray laden with tea and biscuits, shuffled into the drawing room, a worn look on her face. “Please do not think badly of Miss Morgan. She’s had a terrible scare, I’m afraid. Here she is all alone, not sure why she’s here and now, she’s facing the death of a man she’s grown to care very deeply for.”