Rachel Carrington (18 page)

“She really is in the library.”

He sighed heavily. “I suppose I have always known that. She does not want to leave this place where, in spite of my lack of love for her, she had such happiness. Heath Castle has her bound. Why did you talk to her?”

“She knows why I’m here and now so do I. I’m here because of a stupid wish.” She pulled out of his embrace. “I’ve disrupted many people’s lives all because of my own selfishness. I have to find out how to change things around.”

Sinclair cupped her face. “The answer probably lies within the pages of the book.”

Carla blinked up at him in surprise. “Why would you tell me this? You want me to stay.”

“I do, but you want to go home more. My wants are not as important as your needs. Go back to the library and read the book, Carla. I am sure you will find your answer.” His hands dropped back down to his sides and he turned his face away, but not before Carla saw the pain in his eyes.

Standing on tiptoe, she kissed his cheek. “I won’t leave without saying goodbye. Surely the fates would allow me such a little request. I wish…” Sinclair’s finger against her lips silenced the rest of her sentence.

“If anything, what has happened here should tell you to be careful of what you wish for. Sometimes, wishes really do come true.”

Carla smiled tremulously. “Thank you.”

“Do not thank me yet, Carla. You are still here.”

“But I know deep inside that I am going to find my way home.” Squeezing his hand, she turned away.

“By the way, Heath Castle doesn’t have Sara bound. If nothing else, I have learned that everything happens for a reason. Sara is here because she wants to be here. Maybe she is waiting for you to find the love you couldn’t find with her.”

* * * * *

Alexander tightened the cinch on the horse, patted the rump of the mount and swung one last glance back toward the castle. Then, with a sigh of regret, he stuck his foot in the stirrup and settled himself in the saddle.

“Alexander, wait!” Sinclair’s voice caught up with him before the horse moved. “You do not have to go.” The wind whipped at his hair, pulling it free from the confining strip at the nape of his neck. “Carla was right.”

Alexander watched his cousin skeptically. “I behaved badly once more. I promised that I wouldn’t.”

“I forgive you. Carla is a beautiful woman. You just had to learn for yourself that she is not interested in you.” Sinclair swept a hand toward his home. “Please. Come inside and we will talk. I will not let you leave with animosity between us again.”

Alexander shifted uncertainly against the uncomfortable leather. “Will you tell me about Carla? I mean the truth, where she is from really and why she is here.”

“I am not so sure that you would understand.” The hesitation brought an eager look to Alexander’s face.

“I understand more than you think I do, Cousin.” Alexander dismounted and passed the reins of his horse to the stable hand lingering nearby. “After you.”

* * * * *

Diane drew her legs beneath her on the sofa and lifted the framed photograph of her sister from the table beside her. “Oh, Carla, I wish you were here. You don’t know how much I wish I could talk to you now.” The tears fell down her cheeks and splashed against the glass protecting Carla’s picture. “I miss you so much.”

“Mommy?” The voice of her youngest had Diane wiping her cheeks and returning the photograph to its original position.

“What are you doing up? It’s past midnight.”

“I couldn’t sleep.” Jake shuffled toward the sofa, his hands twisting in the hem of his superpowers pajamas. “I kept hearing noises.”

Diane held out her arms and nestled her son against her chest. “Nothing’s here, Jake. You’re safe. I know the night can be scary sometimes, but I won’t let anything happen to you. Is your sister asleep?”

The tousled blond head nodded. “She can sleep through anything. Mommy, will you tell me a story?”

A story? Carla had always been a good storyteller. The children missed that most of all. Carla loved Diane’s children just as they’d loved her. She’d given them a sense of family, something that Baylor and Sandra Morgan knew nothing about. Diane’s heart ached and she managed a smile. “Let me see if I can think of one.” The lump in her throat had taken up permanent residence, but her eight-year-old son gazed up at her so trustingly, believing she could do anything. She couldn’t disappoint him. But how she missed Carla.

Chapter Eight

The book lay open on her lap and Carla’s head rested against the back of the settee. Her closed eyes and even breathing indicated sleep.

Gently, Sinclair closed the book and placed it beside her curled legs. Brushing the hair away from her face, he reserved the features to memory…for a time when memories were all that remained. Shaking off the melancholy, he bent and lifted her into his arms, cradling her against his chest.

Instinctively, Carla turned in his arms, trustingly seeking the warmth of his shoulder. Her face nestled in the curve of his neck and one arm crept around behind his head. She made a soft sound of relaxation and Sinclair swallowed hard.

He deliberately slowed his steps on the way to her bedchamber. He wanted to prolong the moment for as long as possible, to memorize the feel of her body in his arms, the scent of her hair and the softness of her skin. Pushing the door open with the swing of his hip, he carried her across the floor to the bed. The lighted candelabras in the hallway provided just enough light for him to make out the elegant lines of her face, the fullness of her lips, the high cheekbones and the evenly arched eyebrows. Perfection. He tried not to sigh.

Carla stirred as he placed her atop the mattress. Her eyes opened and she blinked up at him. “Sinclair?”

Of their own volition, her arms curled around his neck. “What time is it?”

“It’s late.” He pressed a kiss against her forehead. “You should sleep.” He tried to remove her arms, but she held fast.

“Kiss me,” she whispered against the shadowy planes of his face.

Sinclair’s breath shuddered out of his lungs and he pressed one knee against the mattress. “You should sleep.”

“You’ve already said that. I’m not sleepy anymore.” She pulled him closer. “Please kiss me. I want to feel you next to me.”

“You are not aware of what you are saying. In the morning you will wish you had not been so bold.” He knew he would.

Carla tipped her head back to better see his face. “Do you not want to kiss me, Sinclair?”

Heat spiraled low in his abdomen and his cock surged to life. “I want to kiss you more than anything, but I will not take advantage of you.”

“You’re not taking advantage of me.” Then, taking the decision out of his hands, Carla turned her head just right to press her lips against his.

Taken aback, Sinclair stilled momentarily before his lips responded to hers. The slow, powerful kiss drugged him and he called upon every last ounce of his control to end it. “Carla—” his hands smoothed her hair, “—now is not the time for this. If you wish to return to your home, I want you to do so without regrets.” He straightened and gave her a slow, long look. “Goodnight.”

“Who said I would regret it?” The huskiness of her voice made his heart thrum.

“You told me yourself that you do not want a one-night stand. I presume that means that you do not want one night with a man. You could get that in your world. I have no desire to be your one-night stand.

I will see you in the morning.” With more willpower than he ever thought he possessed, he allowed his feet to carry him out of the room and into the narrow hallway, closing the door behind himself.

* * * * *

Carla settled herself in the library at the break of dawn. She pored over the same words she’d read and reread over a hundred times. The pieces of the puzzle were starting to fit and as illumination dawned, she lifted her head to the ceiling as the tears streamed down her face.

“It can’t be that simple. Can it?” she asked the silent wind. “Where are you, Sara? Could it really be as simple as asking you to send me home?” She dropped her head to her hands and shook her head. “I must be wrong. Going home can’t be that simple.”

“Actually, it is.”

Carla jumped and the book slid to the floor. She scrambled to her feet and brushed the wrinkles from her gown. “Letta, you scared the life out of me!”

“My apologies. His Grace said that you were in here. He told me that it would be all right if I came and talked to you. I hope it is.” The soothsayer still waited in the doorway.

Carla waved one hand, giving permission. “Of course it is. Come on in. I was just reading.”

“I know. You have been on my mind.”

“Obviously. It’s early for you to be out.”

Letta smiled serenely. “I am usually up before dawn. Please sit down.” She waited until Carla had complied before she continued. “As I told you, you have been on my mind. You know how to return to your world now, do you not?”

Carla glanced down at the book. It had fallen open to the same poem that she’d memorized. “Yes.”

“But you are not so sure you want to go now.”

The tears were back and Carla swiped them away with an angry flick of her wrist. When had she become such an emotional female? “I thought it would be so easy once I found the way. I could walk away and never look back. I never wanted to come here in the first place. Oh, I know I said that I wished that I could escape to another world, but everyone in my world says that. Why was my wish the only one that came true?”

Letta walked toward the cold fireplace and stood facing the mantel. “I cannot tell you why your wish came true and others did not or even why this is the only wish of yours that came true. I can tell you that you were meant to come here. Even though you do not see it, you have served a purpose.”

“What purpose? I have only hurt Sinclair and made my family worry. What purpose could that have served?”

The young soothsayer folded her hands behind her back but did not turn around. “His Grace opened his heart to you which was something he never did with Sara.” She held up one hand. “Do not feel guilty that His Grace fell in love with you and not with his wife. His was an arranged marriage. He followed the dictates of his family as any good son would do. Sara knew when she married him that he did not love her. She did not blame him and in spite of his lack of love for her, they had a good marriage.” She did turn around then and her hands fell to her sides. “Sara was barren. Did His Grace tell you that?”

Carla shook her head, her heart aching for the young woman who had married Sinclair in anticipation of bearing his children and sharing a life with him. “She had a hard life.”

“It could have been much more difficult. As a Duke, His Grace could have taken a mistress to provide him an heir. He would not do that to her. He was too much of a gentleman. He was prepared to live out his life with her without children to carry on the family name. He has a lot of honor which is why he would never keep you here against your will.”

Carla’s tense nerves would not allow her to remain sitting any longer. Jumping to her feet, she began to pace the library. She passed the expensive tapestries lining the far wall and moved past the bookshelves to circle the settee. “He has not told me that he loves me.”

Letta gave a small laugh. “That is an age-old problem, Miss Morgan. Any man will not open his heart when there is a chance that his feelings are not returned. He knows that he loves you, but he does not know that you love him.”

Carla didn’t respond to the unspoken question. Instead, she folded her hands in front of her and continued to pace. “You said that you have been thinking about me. Have you seen something else in my future?”

“Not exactly. I have information that will make a difference in your decision.”

The words sounded ominous and Carla felt a cold chill creep up her spine. She wasn’t so sure she wanted to hear what the soothsayer had to say. “Is this something that I’m going to want to hear?”

“You need all the information before you make your choice. Would you like to sit down again?”

“No. Does Sinclair know any of this information?”

“No. He did not ask. Had he asked, I would have told him.” Letta gave Carla a sympathetic look. “I know this must be difficult for you. Would you rather I came back another time?”

“Please just tell me what you know.”

“I wish I could make this easier for you,” Letta offered the words with a kind smile. “But there is no easy way to tell you the truth.”

“Then just tell me.” Carla stopped moving, almost stopped breathing. She pressed her back against a plush tapestry, afraid to move.

“Very well. If you decide to leave Heath Castle, you will never be able to return here. You will never see His Grace again or this century.”

Carla closed her eyes. “I suspected as much. I mean, how often does one get to live their wishes, right?

It wouldn’t be fair if I was granted a wish twice in a lifetime.”

“Should you choose to remain here,” the soothsayer continued in a monotone, “there will be no going back. The portal will be forever closed and you will never see your family or friends again. You will live and die in this century. History will be changed. Your life in the twenty-first century will be erased as if you’d never existed in that time period. Your family will not remember you but you will remember them.

It is a difficult decision to make, but I trust that you will make the best choice for yourself.” Her mission accomplished, Letta walked toward the door, pausing to add, “Believe me when I tell you that His Grace does love you.”

“Letta, have you seen anything about my future?”

“I have, but I cannot share that with you, not without making the choice for you.”

Frustration taking hold, Carla approached the soothsayer. “You don’t have any idea how difficult this is for me. I can’t just decide never to see my family again, but I also can’t stand the thought of never seeing Sinclair again, either. I love him, but is it enough? I don’t have any positive experience to fall back on.

How do I know if I remain here that our love will last? What happens if he grows tired of me? How would I live in this world? I don’t want to be dependent upon a man for my survival.”