Glimpse Time Travel: Enemy Of Mine Part 16

She sighed. Either he was the world's best actor, or Will wasn't an act at all.

She was fairly certain the answer lay with the latter.

Which meant she'd freaked out last night because of her insecurities.

That was a definite pattern in her life, letting her insecurities get the better of her.

It wasn't right to teach Dr. Peabody's cla.s.ses. It wasn't right to do her errands. And it wasn't right that Dr. Peabody wouldn't sign off on her dissertation to be handed to the academic board for consideration. Erva's supervisor kept saying how she didn't think Erva had done enough research, written it well enough, and other lame excuses.

At first Erva had considered the excuses as critiques, and had gone back and rewritten much of her dissertation, and had done more research. All the while her instincts had been firing off warnings that Dr. Peabody was using her. Ben had agreed when Erva had finally told him how long Dr. Peabody had been sitting on her dissertation. He'd held her in a tight bear hug then said, "Honey, for me, but namely for yourself, bag the b.i.t.c.h. She's holding you back from being the wild, punk rock star you really are."

Erva knew at this point in her life it was herself that was holding back. All along she could have fired Dr. Peabody. But she hadn't listened to her instincts, had been too afraid to rock the boat. Too afraid...that reminded her of how she'd run from Will last night. Oh G.o.d, he might think she had run because she'd felt forced to-well, do what Will had done to her. And that couldn't be further from the truth. She'd been excited to have s.e.x with him, although she had no clue how their relations.h.i.+p would work or if it held a minute chance of survival. Still, she'd wanted to make love to him, have him close, feel him inside her.

But she'd run because she'd been afraid at how easy it had been, how good it had felt, how her heart wanted him close every minute of the day from there on out.

She's holding you back from being the wild, punk rock star you really are, Ben's sage words came back to echo through Erva's mind, finally ringing impetus through her body.

She sat up with a start, with purpose. She wouldn't let anyone, not even herself, hold her back any more. This was her life and it was time she started living it. She would make love to Will, then, oh h.e.l.l, she'd figure it out from there. Clio had said something about this being a glimpse, but with Will she was the happiest she'd ever been. She could save his life. Then...well, who knew what would happen. But she would not let Will die.

Glancing around, she finally noticed a small piece of parchment with black scrawl she knew intimately. Will's handwriting! She almost squealed as she picked up the note, but then saw her iPhone under the letter. Panic rippled through her chest. Will had to have seen it. What had he thought of her smart phone?

His note indicated he'd gone to his troops. s.h.i.+t! s.h.i.+t, s.h.i.+t, he'd gone to his men. She had to convince him to retire from the army. He was going to die in just a couple days now. But she could stop that. She had to stop it. d.a.m.n it, why the h.e.l.l was he here in the first place? He didn't seem to believe in any part of this war, except he seemed to side with his enemy, the Americans. So why was he fighting?

She scurried to hide her super smart phone, then frantically set about to see Will and get some answers. But more than that, it was time to live her life, the life she may have never dreamed of, yet it was better than anything she could have ever fantasized.

However, dressing herself was not easy. After she'd cleaned up in the water basin, getting her corset on had been almost stress-free. Except she'd forgotten to put on her stockings, and bending over, trying to pull up the flimsy silk things was impossible, she quickly found out. Oh well, so much for stockings today. By the time she finished pinning her dress in place she was close to tears, and a small rivulet of sweat fell beside her hairline.

She finally relented to ringing her service bell, feeling idiotic that she needed help getting dressed. Instead of the faint knock that Erva had gotten to know as Mrs. Jacobs', a louder, rougher rap came from her door. Erva opened it, hoping that Will had come back to surprise her. But standing in the hallway was Paul.

"My lady, may I offer my a.s.sistance?"

She blinked, unsure how to ask Will's man of business to a.s.sist her so her seams to didn't gape.

He gave her a small smile. "You were probably awaiting Mrs. Jacobs, but she is out of the house. And I'm sorry to report the other maids are away too."

"Oh?"

"The lord hired the maids temporarily for cleaning the third floor. But he did say something about wanting to keep them for you."

"Oh?" Erva repeated, wis.h.i.+ng she could think of something else to say. She tried to think fast. "Is Mrs. Jacobs all right?"

Paul's eyes widened for just a moment, then he bowed his head slightly. "Actually, her daughter is not well."

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

Again, Paul's eyes grew just a tad, but he recovered quickly. "I know not, my lady. But I'm sure Mrs. Jacobs will be greatly honored you'd asked."

Erva wanted to roll her eyes. Not that Paul was being anything other than polite, but she had started to hate the very noticeable cla.s.s differences in the eighteenth century. Thank G.o.d she hadn't run into any slaves yet, because she'd probably try to create her own underground railroad. It was one thing to have an academic arm's distance from things, as well as the two hundred plus years from the eighteenth century, but it was quite another to live through the times. She knew that there were slave protesters, especially here in America now, Thomas Paine a prime example, but it nauseated her to think that there might be something she could do about the intolerable injustice of slavery.

Even if there were something supposedly wrong about changing history, she couldn't help but think that there was so much she could do if she stayed.

She swallowed and summoned courage. "I'd like to see Will, General Hill, as soon as possible please, and...I'm not sure I dressed myself appropriately." She'd added quietly and felt hot flames paint her cheeks.

Yet again Paul's eyes widened as he glanced down her body. Not in a leering kind of way, but inspecting for himself.

"I've had more experience taking a woman out of a dress, than in," he said rather quietly himself, then glanced back up at Erva, shock apparent. "Forgive me, my lady. I forget myself-"

Erva just laughed as she patted one of his muscular shoulders. "It's all right, you lady's man."

He shook his head. "No-"

"Please." Erva couldn't quite stop giggling, especially when she saw Paul was blus.h.i.+ng. "It's all right."

Paul huffed and finally cracked a grin. "I'm sorry, again."

"Don't be. Your experience being what it is, I still need help making sure I'm not about to explode from my dress."

"I could call the neighbor's maid for a.s.sistance."

Erva lifted her arm high. "Just check this seam. I think I might need another pin or to be sewn in."

Paul squatted slightly, suddenly turning serious. He straightened while he shook his head. "'Tisn't good."

Erva grimaced. "I knew it."

"But I might have a remedy."

Erva wondered if her father would be rolling in his grave from rage or laughter. She looked down again at the bright red coat she wore. It fit amazingly well. Paul had said that the tailor had measured Will completely wrong, but Will, being the considerate man he was, hadn't had the heart to ask the tailor for one that would fit properly. So he wore old uniforms that he himself had recuffed. Was there no end to Will's list of completely unintended s.e.xy things he could do? The man could sew for cripe's sake.

Picking at one of the golden frog b.u.t.tons while Paul drove her to Will in a convertible-type carriage, Erva thought of her great-great-great-and so on grandfather, her father's father's father who had been in this war. He would probably tear all his hair out at seeing a distant granddaughter in a red coat.

Still, her get up was rather pretty when Paul had finished with a large black hat and giant gold plume of a feather stuck out at a jaunty angle. She'd had to wear her hair down today, since there was no one who could do it, wearing it in a long loose braid over one shoulder, a few blonde tufts waving about in a dramatic way. When she'd spied herself in the mirror, she couldn't help but smile and approve of the dark blue dress with the bright red military uniform coat.

As Paul drove her, apparently the town's people liked what she wore too, because folks started calling out to her and waving, calling her Fergie, the American d.u.c.h.ess. Soon enough in Britain the d.u.c.h.ess Georgiana would consume the gossip and minds of many with her own outrageous fas.h.i.+ons. Erva took a large breath when thinking over the sad fate of that d.u.c.h.ess. The woman, it seemed, had only wanted love, yet life had been cruel and refused to give it. But how the d.u.c.h.ess had fought for it.

It was a superb lesson: Here Erva had run from Will, from so much, too afraid love would hurt her.

But no more.

This was the day she wouldn't let Will go. She was finished with running.

She had to get to the bottom of the rumors about Miss Emma and Miss Lydia first. Erva turned to whom Will had called his closest friend. Paul had to know something about the affair. But how to ask using eighteenth century manners, which she felt woefully short on?

"So, Mr. Miller-"

"Paul, if it pleases the lady, call me Paul."

"Only if you call me Erva."

He peeked up from the road and met her eyes with surprise. She thought she was shocking him senseless what with all his widened eyes she'd gleaned from him this morning that was quickly turning into a hot and bright afternoon. G.o.d, she'd slept in.

He bowed his head slowly, his brown hair glistening in the sun under a tricorn hat. Then he turned his eyes back to the road.

"So, Paul, how do you like New York?"

He sat up a bit taller. "Seems to be a pleasant village."

"Can you imagine one day that millions of people will live here?"

He nodded and smiled. "It is pretty, all the trees and the scenery. I can imagine stacks of people wanting to come here."

She wanted to tell him about the skysc.r.a.pers and the Statue of Liberty and of New York pizza and-and-oh, there was so much to love about New York. Instantly she craved Will, because ultimately she wanted to share with him what the future held.

She was here for a glimpse, yet she wanted more, much more. She wanted Will, and with him came...the eighteenth century. Could she stand living here? And what made her think that Will wanted her to live here? With him? What if all her fears were true?

"My lady," Paul said, his voice low. "Erva, 'tis truly been a pleasure to make your acquaintance, and I hope it not too forward of me, but I know that Lord Hill has been-" Paul sharply inhaled, then drew in the reins.

Erva glanced ahead and saw that the camp was close, as well as a small cart overturned, with a braying donkey standing close to upended bushels of crabapples. Or Erva guessed the small fruit was as much. It did feel as if this was another world away, even though it was just New York. But the times made everything so completely different. Fascinatingly so.

Paul steered around the wreck, turning into the camp where immediately she heard a huzzah. To her surprise someone started shouting out, "Fergie! Fergie!" She couldn't help but giggle at that.

Paul caught her eye with a wide smile. "They are taken with you too."

G.o.d, she hoped Paul meant that Will was taken with her as well. She wished her own insecurities didn't bark at her, but they did, making her question everything. Well, some questions she needed answering, like Miss Emma and Miss Lydia, and she apparently wouldn't get any answers from Paul, since he was about to drop her off.

It was time to go straight to the source, as many of her professors had said, although they meant going to a primary source, instead of secondary. But that was semantics. It was time to talk to Will.

Chapter 19.

"Where is our book?" Will asked Private Lukas who was propped up on gray pillows and blankets.

The hospital was bleak with only a few oil lanterns to light the room along with the afternoon's faded yellow rush of sunlight from an open door. The Private's broken arm was in a sling, close to the lad's thin chest, covered in a muslin s.h.i.+rt. The covering may as well have come off, for the fabric was all but translucent. Will noticed how thin the Private was, mayhap not owed to a lack of food, but to his age, since he was merely a large child. Lord, why did it seem the army recruited younger and younger men during times of crisis, like now? Will didn't think Lukas was even ten and seven. He wished he could whisk the young Private far from the war, far from what he'd probably already borne witness to-the savagery of battle.

Private Lukas smiled widely through Will's dark thoughts. "Can't read our book, sir. The doctor has it. So I suppose you'll have to tell me about Lady Ferguson."

"Do I?" Will couldn't help but grin back.

The Private cleared his throat and looked down at his limp hand. "I...I've heard she's the most handsome woman the doctor has ever seen."

Will arched a brow.

"An-and she is a wicked good shot. Pardon, sir."

Will laughed. "Her aim is most amazing, yes."

"Do you find her bonny?"

Will lost his grin, finding that talking about Erva's beauty brought about a serious edge to his face, his soul. He wasn't grim as he had been about Private Lukas's condition. No, he was rapturously serious, as a priest would be in a cathedral. He didn't mean to wors.h.i.+p her or put her on a pedestal, for he knew how utterly human she was, had seen it when she'd run from him last night. That vexed him now. Granted, at first he'd thought he had charged at her too fast, too furiously. But now...he couldn't help wonder if something else was interfering with her wanting to be with him. Perhaps she was over thinking things. Then again, mayhap he wasn't thinking enough.

Will nodded. "She is so beautiful...it makes me stop breathing sometimes when I catch sight of her."

The Private leaned further into his pillows, looking as if, had he the ability, he'd stretch both hands behind his head. With another wide smile he looked up at the ceiling of the army's hospital, Will thought, to fantasize about beautiful women, as Will had been p.r.o.ne to do at his age. Ah h.e.l.l, Will still loved to do, especially so when considering Erva.

Glancing at the roof himself, Will noticed how shoddy of a building it was. It seemed that army hospitals became rickety all too fast, as if the buildings themselves groaned and decayed under the weight of the death, dying, and suffering. In the large chamber the Private vacated, there were many men lying on straw pallets, or cots, if one was lucky, like Lukas. The room where the young Private lay was full of men with other broken limbs and one with a broken skull who lay in a daze. But the next room over was full of men with smallpox. Will had had it when he was a young lad and somehow survived. The only proof was a few small scars along his neck. Still, he remembered being deathly sick, and now tried to visit the infected men often. However, it always brought sadness when he did, for the men died daily from the disease.

It was part of war, he'd been told. The casualty rate of the infirmed was just another part of war. But he hated it. He realized he hated all of it now. There'd been only one reason why he'd wanted to join the fight, and now that plan no longer seemed valid. It had been stupid and thoughtless and...

By G.o.d, but Erva saved his life, saved him. He hoped she would talk to him, let him apologize for his behavior, or mayhap she could explain why she left, anything just to let him close to her again.

"I want to find me a wife like that," Private Lukas said, interrupting Will's thoughts once more.

Will wished to have her as his wife also. Mayhap it was too soon to think of marrying. Then again, in matters of the heart was it ever soon enough? Will sighed, trying to explain the poetry of his sentiments. "As beautiful as she is, Private, it is her heart that..." he trailed off, yet again words seemed a tad beyond Will's control.

Private Lukas turned back to him with a happy smile. "Captures you?"

Will grinned himself and nodded. "Aye."

The Private sighed. "So when will you marry her?"

Will glanced up at the sound of Dr. Goodfellow's suddenly loud voice, booming something about a surprise. There more than twenty feet away, she stood. Good Lord, he wasn't sure if he'd ever breathe again. In the one open doorway the sun s.h.i.+fted and flowed happy, sunny beams down upon Erva in a bright red uniform coat with a wide, black, and masculine hat that Erva made extraordinarily feminine. She appeared simultaneously both wildly female and strong. A lovely combination he'd never seen before. She was going to break his heart, and he knew it. For why would such an exotic creature ever love him?

Still, he had to see if she could. Love him, that was. Hopefully not the former.

She walked in as if gliding. He stood, feeling nervous as a boy, even while his mind raced back to images of her naked before him, bathed in silver moonlight and gasping in pleasure. His c.o.c.k instantly tightened. His own pleasure exploded through his stomach, down his thighs.

Her smile seemed a tad forced, and Will tampered his own grin, hoping not to make a complete fool of himself. He did have an ounce of dignity. Well, truth be told, it had been she who had given him that ounce. Trying to slowly walk to her, he met her at the foot of the Private's bed. He took her hand that she hadn't quite offered and kissed it.

"My lady, what a pleasure to see you here," Will said, surprised his voice sounded so low and raspy.

"Aye, this is most extraordinary, my lady," said Dr. Goodfellow right behind Erva. "For we've never had a lady visiting our troops before."

Erva turned back toward the doctor, her eyes round and wide, blinking. Will still held her hand and wondered if he felt her anxiety.

"I'm sorry-" she began.

But Will interrupted, never wanting to see such tension in her face again. "I think the doctor means to say that it is truly an honor and pleasure you are here."

"Oh, yes, yes." Dr. Goodfellow nodded.

She turned back to Will, a timid smile blooming, illuminating her cheeks into golden pink perfection. Lord, he wanted her, wanted to take her in his arms, wanted to kiss her, take her clothes off and perform what he'd done last night all over again. But this time...he'd sink into her. He'd savor how she felt. He'd-best pay heed to the woman while she stood before him, looking perhaps more timid than ever before.