Rachel Carrington (6 page)

“Fate brought you here.”

“But did you have a part in it?”

“I do not control your destiny, Miss Morgan.”

“My name is Carla.” Irritation spiraled through her. She was a reasonably intelligent woman and for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out why she was here or how she could get out. True, she hadn’t spent that much time dwelling on it today, but there was always tomorrow.

“While your bath is being drawn, would you like to warm yourself in front of the fire? The drawing room is quite nice this time of the evening.”

Carla stopped, pressing one hand against the Duke’s chest to halt him as well. “Thank you. I know when I woke up that I was irritable and not very pleasant to be around. I’m just not used to your culture.”

“Any more than I am used to yours. We will learn together. There is no need for apologies. You are scared and confused. I will do what I can to help you.”

Was it her imagination or had his hand slipped a notch? “But you won’t help me find a way out of here.”

The look her gave her said it all. He didn’t want her to leave. His hands moved along her shoulders, sliding up the graceful column of her neck to frame her face. “I do not think I would be able to help you leave, Carla. For I find with each passing minute that I very much want you to stay.” He lowered his head.

His lips settled gently against hers, pliable, allowing her to set the pace or pull away. In the dim lighting, their bodies fused, appearing as one in the shadows which danced on the wall next to her. The kiss was soft, searching and drew Carla deeper into his world.

“Oh my goodness! Forgive me, Your Grace!” Nettie chirped as she rounded the corner. “I did not know you were entertaining in the corridor. I would have not made my presence known.”

Sinclair lifted his head and fixed his housekeeper with a sardonic smile. “For you, that would be an impossibility, Nettie. Did you need something?”

Unabashed, the cheerful woman flashed Carla a wink. “Your lady’s bath is ready. I’ve sent Darla and Sally to help her.”

“That won’t be necessary. I don’t really need any help bathing.” Carla quickly inserted her protest.

Sinclair placed a finger against her lips and shook his head. “It is the way of things here. The maids are here to perform a service. They are paid well for such services.”

“I am not used to women helping me bathe.”

His eyebrows lifted almost imperceptibly. “You would prefer that a man help you?”

Carla fumbled for the words of explanation as his blatant invitation caused her toes to curl. “I…no…I’m just used to bathing alone.”

“The maids will not bathe with you.”

Realizing she was fighting a losing battle, Carla threw her hands in the air and followed the housekeeper.

“Lead the way, Nettie. I should have just followed you to begin with. There is no reasoning with that man.”

Nettie fell into step beside Carla and nodded her understanding. “His Grace can be difficult at times, but overall, he has a good heart.”

Carla had to ask. “Do you know why I’m here?”

If the question flustered the plump woman, she didn’t show it. “Fate has brought you here.”

“Fate has brought me all the way back to 1811 for what purpose? It just doesn’t make sense. That’s exactly what the Duke keeps telling me, but he won’t tell me why.”

“It is not his place to question fate, my Lady. It will all be revealed in good time.”

“I think I read the wrong history books. I missed the ones where this age was steeped in superstitions.”

Nettie chuckled. “Our beliefs are as important to us as yours are to you. Now, I must ask a question of you.”

“Shoot.”

Nettie looked around, a horrified expression on her face. “Pardon me, my Lady?”

Carla waved a hand in dismissal. “I meant go ahead with your question.”

Nettie’s face relaxed. “What is it like living in the future?”

“That’s a broad question.”

“Well, then, perhaps you could answer it over time.” They’d reached the bedchamber where the tub was prepared. “For now, enjoy your bath and should you need anything, you have only to ask.”

“So I’ve learned.” Carla muttered below her breath. “This isn’t happening. This isn’t real. Maybe I’m sick. That’s it. I have a fever and I’m hallucinating. Any minute now I’m going to wake up and I’ll be back in my own bed with the television droning in the background.” With great difficulty, she managed to unhook the myriad of buttons down the length of her spine.

“Let us help you, Miss Morgan.” The first of the maids appeared at her side, eager hands swatting Carla’s away.

Carla’s head dropped to her chest. “I’d really like to wake up now.”

* * * * *

Sinclair heard her approach and stood, a flask of brandy in his hand. “You are shivering. Come. Sit with me.” He extended his hand and Carla surprised herself by taking it, allowing him to draw her into the circle of his arms.

The heat of the fire quickly erased the iciness from her skin and Carla found herself relaxing in the simplicity of the night. Settled against Sinclair’s shoulder, she sat beside him on the narrow settee. The glow of the flames threw his profile into stark relief and she was caught again by the sheer perfection of his face. Here was a man who had captured the fates’ good fortune. They had smiled upon him and bestowed him with the features of a god, strong, aristocratic and boldly handsome.

Sinclair turned, dark eyes catching the surveillance. He smiled. “You are watching me.”

Boldly, Carla lifted a hand and touched his cheek. “I’m sure you’ve had other women watch you. This cannot come as a shock to you.”

The smile deepened. “You are attracted to me.”

Could he not hear her pussy whispering his name? Her breath caught in her throat. “Yes, I am.”

“But because you are leaving, you wish to keep distance between us.”

“I’ve known you a day. I think it’s wise to keep distance right now.”

She captured his interest. “You need time. I can wait.”

Carla was flustered, which was unusual for her. She’d come from a long line of poised, confident people. She wasn’t accustomed to losing control of any given situation. “I didn’t say that. I have every intention of leaving here.”

“Yes, but you still have to find a way.”

“It would be quicker if you would help me.”

The flask tipped against his lips, lips that Carla had touched, felt against her own and her skin tingled. His eyes met hers over the rim.

“I think you don’t really want me to help.”

He read her thoughts too accurately. She shifted away from him, drawing the dressing gown tighter around her slender frame. “What are you talking about? You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know you.”

“No, you don’t.” Was that hysteria she heard in her own voice? “You can’t know me.”

“The fates have told me what I need to know.”

“Then why won’t you tell me?”

“Because you would not believe me.” A log popped and hissed in the grate and sparks littered the floor, creating a bright orange shower at their feet.

Instinctively, Carla drew her knees up close to her chest. Sinclair placed his hand over her arm. “The fire will only burn you if you get too close to it. You are far enough away.”

Carla sensed an underlying meaning to his words, but wisely chose to change the subject. “Where am I going to sleep and please don’t say your bed.”

Sinclair laughed aloud, a full throaty sound. “You will sleep in the bedchamber joining mine. You will be quite safe. It will get cold in the night. Nettie will give you additional coverlets.” He focused his full attention on her face. “I could make you want to stay with me, Carla, but I will leave the choice to you.”

Her breath shot out of her lips and her hands shook. “You may be able to make me stay with you, but you will never be able to make me want to stay in this century. I’m used to the things that this age cannot provide me. That is why I have to go back.”

Sinclair didn’t argue with her. “Are you ready for bed?”

If the truth were told, she wanted to stay here with him, listening to the low vibration of his voice, the sizzle of the flames and smelling the burning wood. But common sense propelled her to her feet. “I think so. Don’t get up. I can find my own way. Goodnight, Sinclair.” She paused. “It is all right if I call you Sinclair, isn’t it? I mean, you mentioned that only your closest relatives called you Sinclair.”

“And friends. My friends call me by my Christian name as well. We will be friends.” He held out one hand in a gesture of friendship, but when Carla slipped her hand in his, he tugged her back down onto the settee. She fell against his hard chest and electrical shocks climbed from the soles of her feet to the base of her spine. “Look at me, Carla.”

She opened her eyes in time to see his lips drawing closer. Her lids drifted down again and she leaned forward, anticipating the return of the kiss. She expected softness, but Sinclair had another plan. He cupped the back of her neck and ravaged her lips, leaving her breathless, disheveled and uncertain. His tongue danced with hers as he tasted her intimately and Carla found herself wanting to clamp his hand against the dampness between her thighs.

Then Sinclair released her and with a sexy grin, murmured, “Goodnight, Carla.”

She didn’t know what to say. She turned and walked away, her feet becoming sluggish as they carried her back down the hallway to the dark bedroom. A room that held no warmth even was it furnished with a blazing furnace. Although her bedroom in the twenty-first century had available heat, she couldn’t say that it was any more inviting than this one. She was still going to bed alone and for the first time in a very long time, longer than she could even remember, another option almost destroyed her willpower.

She paused to consider that option, her heart beating rapidly within her breast. What type of lover would Sinclair be? Would he take his time, enjoying every inch of her body and allowing her to discover his or would he rip the clothes from her body and feast on her skin much like a hungry wolf? She dropped her head against the wall outside the bedchamber and drew in a deep, almost painful breath. She didn’t know what was happening to her. She couldn’t explain the feelings swamping her.

She wanted a man she’d just met. And he wanted her.

Why then, did she feel this clawing need to fight the sensations storming her soul?

Heath Castle had its charming moments in the light of day, but at night, when darkness settled over the four-story structure, sounds and shadows escaped from the sunlight’s grasp. And Carla heard and saw every one of them from the very first thump on the stairs to the last shadow that crawled across the wall of the bedchamber she occupied. So to say she had obtained a better night’s sleep than the night before would have been a gross overstatement. She was tired, cranky and bone weary when Nettie knocked on her door bright and early.

“Good morning, Miss. Did you have a good night’s sleep?”

“No.” Honesty had always been a rule in Carla’s life. Perhaps because her father didn’t hesitate to bend the truth to suit his needs. “I’m not comfortable here.”

Nettie’s cheerful countenance dimmed somewhat. “Oh, but that will come in time, I’m sure. What was it that kept you awake?”

“You name it and I heard it or saw it.”

Nettie chuckled despite Carla’s obvious distress. “Nothing or no one can enter the castle without admittance, Miss. The drawbridge is raised every night and is not lowered again until the morning hour.

We have sentries guarding every entrance and they are well armed. You are quite safe here, I can assure you.”

“Maybe so, but until I figure that out for myself, I can just look forward to a lot of sleepless nights.”

Nettie placed a tray of tea and biscuits on the small bedside table. “And how do you plan on figuring things out for yourself then?”

“I’ve already told you that I have no intention of staying in Heath Castle for the rest of my life, but I doubt I’m going to find the answer in one day. So—” Carla slung the blankets to one side, “—along the way, I’ll just discover any secrets this house holds.”

Nettie’s face took on a worried expression. “Mayhap you are trying too hard, love.”

Carla fixed the housekeeper with a disgusted look. “Really? How else am I supposed to find my way home?”

Nettie fidgeted with the hem of her apron and looked over her shoulder, looking for an escape. “Have you considered you are not supposed to leave us?”

Carla didn’t bother responding. She pressed her feet to the floor and instantly regretted the motion.

“Damn, that’s cold!” She whisked her feet back beneath the quilts, ignoring the housekeeper’s horrified expression. “I know, I know. My language is not suitable for a lady, but here’s a newsflash for you and your Duke. I am not a lady of the nineteenth century. I am a woman of the twenty-first century and we don’t always hold our tongues.”

“Perhaps that is a practice you should start,” Sinclair suggested from the doorway beyond the housekeeper. “Nettie, you may leave us.”

“Your Grace, she is not properly attired,” Nettie protested.

Sinclair didn’t respond, but his commanding look backed up the instruction and Nettie scurried away.

Carla shook her head sadly. “You would never make it in my world, Sinclair.”

He wasn’t smiling. “And as much as it pains me to say this, you are not going to make it in mine if you do not learn the proper ways of a lady. I have guests coming to dine this evening. These guests are not aware of your arrival from another time. You will conduct yourself as a lady should, with proper manners and decorum at all times.”

Carla tossed the blankets aside once more. “Let me get this straight. Because you don’t want anyone to know that I don’t belong in this world, I’m expected to curtail what I say and do just to please you? It doesn’t work that way. I haven’t been told what I can and can’t do in a very long time. It was precisely the reason I moved out of my parents’ house.”