Glimpse Time Travel: Enemy Of Mine Part 21

He nodded.

"Tchaikovsky somehow could put into music all human emotions-the pain of not knowing what will happen next, the hope that grows in our hearts, the way defeat can devour us, the way victory can transform us, transform us forever."

She held her iPhone closer to her flat stomach as if she didn't want him to see it.

He watched her closely as the violins began again a sweeping romantic tune. Closing her eyes again, she finally released her tight grip on the gla.s.s box. That was when he read "1812 Overture." He sucked in a breath.

"Does that mean in the year of 1812?" he asked wildly, not recognizing his own voice.

The music escalated. It sounded as if cannons fired off. For a long moment she didn't answer, but stared at him as the music beat with monumental rhythm and the tones vibrated through him. Not because the music was loud, but it resonated with all human emotion, as she had said. Will thought the music especially spoke to him and his sense of accomplishment when on a battlefield. He knew this tune. He knew it innately.

With rolling drums, it ceased, and she pressed something on the screen, then looked up at him, holding out her iPhone again so he could read it.

"It's a book. It's a book about the British commanders in chiefs of this war. First, there was Gage, now Howe, but soon Howe will retire too. As you know things were not easy between Howe and the Ministry at home. King George wanted better results, and Howe, again, as you know, came here as a mission of peace, not war. He will retire next year, and is gone by 1778, then General Henry Clinton will take over."

"Why not General Guy Carleton? He's the better general and has more experience."

She smiled ruefully. "You believe me?"

Will sucked in another breath, not sure how to answer, not sure why, but he did believe her.

Tentatively, she looked up at him again, one tear rolling down her cheek. She shook her head. "I didn't know you were this wonderful. I would have never known it, if it weren't for this experience. I only knew your tactics." Looking down again, she said, "You feign a frontal attack, but then outflank your enemy. Howe gets much of the credit for your designs, your battles, but through my research I came to understand that it was you, your brilliance, your attack plans. It was all you." She took a shaky breath. "Tomorrow you will do the same. Only, you won't just use your right flank, as you usually do, but you will also use your left, essentially pinching your enemy to death. The American militia that will meet you at Kip's Bay won't see what's coming. In one day's time you will have more than a thousand prisoners of war." She glanced up again, as his heart beat crazily in his chest. "I know how this war will turn out, because I've read it over and over again."

At that his legs finally did almost give out on him, and he walked backwards until he found a nearby couch to fall into. He huffed for air as Erva approached.

She gave him enough room to make him think she was fearful of him. The pained look in her face, the occasional tear down her cheek gashed at his heart.

He had to clear his throat a few times, but finally he could say, "Read it? The outcome?"

She nodded.

"Because you are not from my time?"

She nodded once more.

He let out a dry chuckle. "Lord, when I met you, I imagined you were from another time. But I thought from the song you sang, and the way you make me feel...I made believe that you were a medieval princess."

"Princess?" Her voice cracked. "The way I make you feel?"

He looked up at her, holding her iPhone and hands protectively over her heart. "Yes, because, I swear to G.o.d, with you I felt I could rip apart dragons with my bare hands. I felt that I could do anything." Again, he gave a wry laugh. "I fancied you some princess I could rescue, but, Erva, my darling, you were the one saving me."

She fell to the ground in a cloud of her blue skirts. He rushed off the couch, kneeling in front of her, holding onto her waist.

Trying to wipe away her tears, she said, "I don't usually cry like this."

He smiled. "Okay."

She giggled.

"Did I use that term correctly?"

She nodded.

"Is it Germanic? Are you ever going to tell me what it means?"

"I believe it's American. Founded in the early 1800s, but used predominately after...after a presidential candidate used it in the 1840s."

His breath ceased and his stomach clenched, but he would get through this, by G.o.d. "What year are you from, darling?"

She bit her bottom lip, which he guessed she didn't mean to be as provocative as it looked. d.a.m.n, he wanted to kiss her and never stop.

"I'm from a little more than two centuries in the future."

Being hit in the gut might have had a lesser reaction than what he experienced at that moment. He plopped on his backside, somehow sitting up still, probably appearing stupefied.

Erva held onto his coat. "I'm sorry."

"What? What are you sorry about, darling?" He sounded drunk to his own ears.

She shrugged.

"You said you're older than I, right? You said you are actually thirty-five, although you could pa.s.s for a girl of two and twenty."

She smiled. "Flatterer."

He couldn't help but grin back. "I'm not trying to be. I'm trying to make a point that I'm actually older than you, am I not? I'm more than two hundred years your senior."

She actually giggled, and Will realized all was well. It was odd, and very hard to wrap his head around, but all the same, she was here. With him. And he wouldn't let her go.

"So, how does this work?" he asked. "Are you going to stay here? With me? Marry me, and accept my t.i.tle and estate and new sister? Or do we jump into the future now?"

She swallowed. "You-you'd still want to marry me? After you know-"

"My darling, you could come from a different planet, and I wouldn't care."

"You don't care that you're two hundred years older than me?" she asked with a slight twinkle of mischief in her eyes.

"As long as you don't." He smiled.

She shook her head.

He wrapped his hands around her waist, pulling her closer. "Erva, I don't know much about love, but what I do know is that the way I feel about you...I doubt I would ever experience it again, except mayhap in another two hundred years time."

She smiled again, but then looked down shyly. "You-you don't just want to marry me. You love me?"

"I know it's utterly impetuous, improper, and unreasonable to fall in love so soon-only a few days after I met you." He hooked a finger under her chin and forced her to look at him again. "But it's also perfect. I love you. I want you. I swear to G.o.d, Erva, I want to make love to you as often as I can. Let me amend that. I want to make love to you as often as you'll let me."

She giggled and grabbed hold of him in a tight embrace. All too soon, she pushed herself away. "I-I have more to tell."

He nodded, bracing himself by swallowing his tight throat.

"This would be a good time to say, 'okay.'"

"Okay." He tried to grin.

"As I said, I'm not a lady. I don't have a t.i.tle."

"Okay."

Now she smiled, but continued. "I-I work at Harvard, where I teach cla.s.ses."

"You're a professor?"

She nodded.

"How clever of you, darling. Congratulations! Or are there many women professors in the future?"

"There are more and more, yes. And I have to tell you-" she squinted her eyes closed, "-I'm divorced."

Although jealousy snapped through him, and he was fairly certain he'd like nothing more than to hunt her former husband down with a hatchet, he saw the fear in her tense visage. "Thank G.o.d for that, then."

Startled, she opened her amber eyes.

"I don't think I could handle polyandry. I couldn't share you."

She shook her head, appearing confused. "I know most people from this time think divorce is...is-"

"Pardon me, but I think you're being a wee bit of a bigot again. I'm sorry to say as much, but there are women who are divorced from my time."

"I know, but aren't they social pariahs?"

Will shook his head. "Not that I know of, but you must remember with whom you're speaking. I'm not exactly knowledgeable of social protocol. I was much too serious as a young man, then married, then a widower who seemed to drown in my grief."

Erva sank closer to him on the floor. "I'm so sorry for that."

"I'm not now. Drowning, that is."

Tears collected in Erva's lovely eyes again.

"I don't know how it works, Erva, but did my wife have a hand in you being here? Truly, you are so perfect that I've often wondered if she somehow...?"

Erva shook her head. "The muses, Clio and Erato, sent me here."

"Ah." Will nodded as if talk of muses were an everyday occurrence, but then winced. "This makes my head spin."

"I know. I thought I had gone crazy the first day I arrived, but then the muses came and gave me better instructions, and then-"

"The maids! The muses are the maids who took you to your chamber?"

Erva nodded with a smile.

"G.o.d, really?"

Faintly she nodded again, her smile waning. "You don't mind that I've been married before?"

Shaking his head, Will said, "I know we haven't known each other long, but I trust you. I trust you did what you must. It makes me dreadfully sad to think of you as unhappy, and unhappy enough to get a divorce-"

"Getting a divorce is a civil suit in the future, not an act of Parliament as it is now. So it's easier to obtain."

"Still, darling, I wish you had never known a touch of unhappiness. But," he tried not to smile, yet couldn't help himself as he said, "I'm rather pleased you're available for me to pursue and marry."

"Did you pursue me?"

"I thought I was a tad too obvious, what with insisting on carrying you around everywhere."

"You weren't doing that because my knee hurt?"

"Ah, you see, that was a wonderful excuse, but I fear if you hadn't had an injury I still would have carried you about. I'm dreadfully sorry, but something about you brings out a very primal, possessiveness in me."

She giggled.

He leaned forward, sweeping his lips against hers. "I want you to be mine, Minerva Ferguson." He kissed her again, gently but pleadingly, then he leaned back, thrilled at the way she gasped for air and leaned closer to him to return the kiss. Before she could, he tenderly touched her forehead, skimming his fingers into her silky blonde tresses. "I want your mind to be mine." He kissed her along her eyebrows, making her thick blonde lashes flutter closed. Then he kissed both her eyes. When she gazed up at him again, with dark honey in her orbs he smiled proudly. Taking her iPhone from her, he set it close by. He slid a hand over her dress to her heart, hammering into his palm. "I want your heart to be mine." Then he reached down and kissed where his hand had been. Moving to her breast and cupping her, he gave a gentle squeeze and found her nipple reacting immediately, hardening and peaking through her layers of clothing. He rolled his thumb over the small nub, making her moan. That sent a jolt of electricity straight to his c.o.c.k, making him rock hard in a matter of seconds. Latching on to her nipple with his mouth, he found her dress too much in the way. Lord, clothes were detestable at this moment.

After Erva clutched onto his hair with her dainty fingers, he lifted off her breast, and maneuvered her to lie down on the floor. He hovered over her for just a moment. "And I want your body to be mine. All mine."

She smiled and pulled him to cover her, to feel her body with his own. "Okay."

He chuckled then relented and swayed his hardness against her soft center. G.o.d, he loved it when her lashes fluttered closed, like two light-colored b.u.t.terflies descending to earth. He loved the light pink coloring in her cheeks, also drifting across her chest. He loved the way she smiled as he rocked into her. He loved her.

He really did. As much as he was a man of his time, reasonable and expecting scientific explanations of things, this defied everything he'd ever known. He knew he loved her, and, Lord, he hoped she felt the same. The little minx hadn't yet admitted anything, hadn't even said yes to his proposal.

He lifted himself off her, to hover over her again, frowning.

She opened her eyes, her dark honey orbs appeared gla.s.sy and slightly out of focus. "Don't stop," Erva whispered.

He obeyed without a thought and felt through her skirts, through his breeches, her heat and her pleasure. Then reason came back to him, and he lifted himself once more.

She groaned. "Please don't stop."

He shook his head. "You haven't given me any kind of answer, my lady."

"I'm not a lady. I told you that."

"You will be if you say yes."

She blinked rapidly for a moment. "You mean to your proposal?"

"Yes."