A World Apart (The Hands of Time: Book 3) (5 page)

“Not yet, but I know something that will help.  Will you join me?”  She gave him a cryptic smile and left the room, heading for their bedroom.  Kit followed obediently, happy to do whatever it took to help.  Louisa shut the door behind them, turning to him with a seductive smile. 

“Make love to me – hard.”  She was already unlacing her bodice, her eyes never leaving his.

“Are you mad?  It will harm the baby.  What kind of man would swive his wife when she’s about to give birth?”  He was stunned, but Louisa seemed to be serious.

“The kind of man who wants to help her go into labor.  Now, will you unlace those breeches or do you require help?”  She’d already pulled off her bodice and skirt, remaining in her chemise and cotton stockings.  Louisa reclined on the bed, pulling the chemise up to her waist.  Kit’s breath caught in his throat.  She was like a ripe fruit, ready to burst with its sweetness.  His traitorous body responded immediately, his cock straining against the fabric of his breeches. 

“Please, Kit.  It won’t hurt the baby, and it won’t hurt me.  It’s perfectly safe.  I need you.”  She spread her legs further, the smile never leaving her face.  “You know you want to.”

Kit finally gave in, going to her.  It had been a while since they’d made love, and he was as desperate for her as she was obviously for him.  He tried to hold back, but Louisa wasn’t having it.

“Give it to me hard, Kit.  Harder.”  She was grinding her hips against his, driving him mad with need.

“Woman, have you gone daft?” he asked, panting as he thrust harder per her request. 

“Stop talking and fuck me, husband,” she answered.  That was all it took to break through his reserve.  Kit gave her what she wanted, conscious only of the
hunger between them, and the feeling of completion when he finally rolled off her, sweating and sated. 

“Was that to your liking, madam?” he asked, looking over at her.  Louisa didn’t answer.  She was looking down at the wet spot between her legs.

“My water broke,” she announced gleefully, sliding off the bed.  “It won’t be long now.”

She’d been right.  Evie arrived a few hours later, screaming and red, black fuzz covering her little head.  Kit’s breath caught in his throat as Bridget placed the swaddled baby in his arms, smiling at his wonder and joy.  He’d forgotten all about wanting a son.  His daughter was perfect, as was his life.

Kit rose from the bench and threw a stone into the lake, watching the distorted reflection of the moon as the still surface rippled and rolled.  How naïve he’d been.  His life wasn’t perfect now.  His wife had deceived him, and now she might leave and take his daughter with her.  He knew he had rights as a father, but all she had to do was activate the device and just disappear, and all his rights would disappear with her.  She’d be gone forever, to a place where he couldn’t follow.  Would Alec and Valerie go too, leaving him alone and heartbroken?  Kit felt a sudden rage tear his soul as his hurt turned into terrible anger.  He spun around and marched back to the house.  He wouldn’t be a pawn in this game.

A bitter moon shone down from the heavens, bathing the house in a silvery glow.  Finn wasn’t sure what woke him, but he couldn’t go back to sleep even if he tried.  He felt his guts twisting with anxiety as he walked to the edge of the wood and stood there, looking at the dark, eerie building.  This wasn’t his home, and his family wasn’t inside.  He wasn’t hallucinating or imagining things.  This was
frighteningly real.  Finn leaned against a tree, gazing at the silent house.  He’d complained of being treated like a child, and now he felt like one.  He was scared, confused, and desperate for his parents to make everything all right, but that wasn’t going to happen.  He had to think like a man and act like a man.  What would his father do in this situation?

Finn did the only thing he could thin
k of; he began walking toward Jamestown.  His only hope was to find Charles, if Charles was still there in his house.  What if Charles and his family were gone as well?  He’d go to Agnes and Richard if he failed to find Charles, but that would probably be futile.  If Charles was no longer there, chances were that Agnes and Richard wouldn’t be either.  Richard had set up as a carpenter in Jamestown, using an outbuilding behind the house as a workroom.  Finn had visited them once since they got married, but he remembered exactly where their house was.  As of now, that was the plan. 

Finn fought waves of nausea, punctuated by pangs of hunger as he ambled down the road in the direction of
the town.  The moon periodically hid behind clouds, leaving the world dark and cold.  The October night was chilly, so Finn walked faster, trying to warm up, praying all the while that Charles would be there.  He would help him make sense of things.  Charles would know what to do.  He always did. 
Oh, please be there, Charlie
, Finn thought as he saw the dark outline of buildings in the distance. 
Be there
.

Finn’s hopes were dashed as soon as he got closer.  The houses began much sooner than he anticipated, many of them made of brick and mortar rather than wood.  The street was paved with
cobbles, and not the mud that was usually churned by passing wagons and sometimes ankle-deep after rain.  Finn stared at the houses that appeared like mushrooms after rain since the last time he’d been to town.  Finn passed shops shuttered for the night, and several pubs, disgorging their last customers into the cool air of the night.  He heard laughter from an open door as light spilled into the street, two gentlemen stumbling onto the pavement, reeling drunk.  Finn desperately wished he was drunk because that was the only thing that could explain what he was experiencing. 

His attention was distracted by loud screams coming from what he thought would be the center of town.  The two drunks
suddenly perked up, nearly running toward the noise.  Finn decided to follow.  Charlie’s house was in that direction anyway.  More and more people appeared as he drew closer, the light of torches illuminating the odd scene.  Several men were dragging something from the house in the square, their faces covered with a sheen of perspiration in the light of the torches.  The onlookers roared in approval, yelling something Finn couldn’t understand.  He inched closer, trying to get a better look.  The thing dragged from the house appeared to be a middle-aged man.  His nightshirt billowed in the wind, exposing pudgy white legs as his wife hovered in the doorway, her fist pressed to her mouth as if to suppress a scream.  The man was obviously terrified, begging his attackers to let him go.  His nightcap fell off his head, instantly trampled by the mob as they followed the procession, still chanting.

“Go back where you belong, English scum.  We have no room for Royalists here.”  The men dragged their victim along toward the docks, bystanders trying to kick him as he passed by. 

“You’ll be on the next ship to England come dawn, and don’t try to return.  We’ll lynch you if we catch you back here.  Give our warmest regards to King Georgie.”

Finn pressed himself against the wall as the mob passed him, intent on the pursuit of the hapless man.  King Georgie?  What happened to King James?  Finn
turned a corner to put distance between himself and the mob, and trudged along to Charlie’s house.  He knew it wouldn’t be there before he even reached the correct address, but he dutifully walked up and down the street, looking at the darkened windows of the houses that hadn’t been there last week. 

Finn began to walk. 
He had no idea where he was going.  Nothing looked familiar.  Going to Richard and Agnes was pointless now, so he needed a new plan.  Maybe he would go to the docks and see if one of their ships was in the harbor.  He knew it was an exercise in futility, but he had to do something, anything.  A broadsheet fluttered in the wind, twirling like an autumn leaf, about to land on the ground.  Finn snatched it up before it landed in a pile of muck and held it up, trying to read it by moonlight.  It said something about Royalists and revolutionaries, but he wasn’t sure what it meant.  A date at the top of the sheet caught Finn’s attention.  October 2, 1775.  Finn stared at the black ink, trying to comprehend what he was seeing.  How could it be 1775, and why did that number look familiar? 

Suddenly
, Finn felt as if someone punched him in the stomach.  The number looked familiar because he’d entered it into the odd object he found.  Seventeen rabbits, seven possums, and five foxes.  1775.  Finn started to run.  He had no idea where he was going, but he couldn’t stop.  His heart was hammering in his chest, and hot tears ran down his face, obscuring his vision.  He got a stitch in his side, but he continued to run as if a pack of wolves was after him and would tear him to bits if he stopped.  He had to keep moving, because if he stopped, he would go mad.  Maybe he was mad already.  Finn hadn’t even noticed when the town fell behind and the cobblestone street turned into a dirt road, dark and silent.  The tree line was barely distinguishable from the inky sky, and there wasn’t a glimmer of light or sign of life anywhere in the distance.  Finn lost his footing a few times as he slid on some mud or stepped into a depression in the earth, but he kept running, for stopping would mean having to face the reality of his situation. 
 

Louisa watched from the window as Alec and Valerie left the house and headed toward the woods.  She couldn’t bear to say goodbye
, so she waved as Valerie turned to take one last look at the house.  Alec had strapped on his sword, took his pistol, and hid a dagger in his boot.  He took anything small of value he could find to be used for trading, since the coins might be useless.  He carried a small valise containing a change of clothes for him and Valerie and some food.  Mr. Taylor had given them the device, showing them both how to use it, and strapping it on to Alec’s wrist, so he wouldn’t drop it.  If he did, they’d never get back. 

Louisa stifled a sob as they disappeared into the woods.  It was the safest place to go according to the old man.  They wouldn’t want to find themselves in someone’s living room if they tried to go directly from the house. 
Louisa turned from the window as Kit strode into the room.  She hadn’t seen him since the scene on the landing.  Kit locked the door behind him but didn’t come further into the room.  His eyes were blazing, his voice strangely quiet and controlled when he finally spoke. 

“All this time and you never told me.  I feel such a fool.”

“Kit, I didn’t want to burden you with the knowledge.  There was no point.  To be honest, I didn’t want to talk about that life.  It would keep me from accepting this one wholeheartedly.  Forgive me, Kit.  I didn’t mean to deceive you.”  Louisa took a step toward him, but he stepped back, cold and angry.

“You and Valerie must have spoken of the old life, and Alec knew,” added Kit bitterly. 
“How you must have laughed behind my back.”  Kit turned away from her, looking down at his sleeping daughter.  Louisa couldn’t see his face, but she could see the rigid stance and the clenched fists.  She’d expected disbelief, but she didn’t expect such anger.

“
Kit, we never laughed at you.  We actually didn’t speak of it too often.  It all seems so long ago.  Our life is here, with you.  Kit, please don’t be angry.  I can’t bear it right now.  I need you.”  Louisa came up behind him, putting her arms around him, refusing to let go.

“But you were thinking of going back.  You and Valerie were considering it.”  Kit didn’t push her away, but he didn’t turn
around either.  He didn’t want to look at her.

“Kit, we weren’t really considering it.  Neither one of us wanted to go, but we needed to be sure.  We never expected this to happen. 
I’m so scared of losing Valerie again, but even more than that, I am scared of losing you.  Kit, please, look at me.”

Kit turned around then, his eyes unreadable as he looked at her in the darkness.  The
moonlight drained all color from his face, making him look slightly demonic, his black eyes lost in shadow.  Kit suddenly lifted her up, tossing her onto the bed like a sack of turnips.  Louisa scrambled out of his reach, but he grabbed her by the ankles and pulled her to the end of the bed, undoing his laces.  She didn’t protest as he pushed up her skirts, ramming himself inside her.  Kit had never touched her in anger, but she could understand his rage and confusion.  Louisa bit her lip to keep from crying out.  This was the first time since she gave birth to Evie, her body not as responsive as before.  Kit’s thrusts grew less frenzied as he collapsed on top of her, his cheek wet against her face. 

“I won’t lose you, Louisa.  I won’t.  You are mine, now and forever.  Don’t eve
r forget that.  I’ll never let you go.  If you go, you might as well kill me, for I’m nothing without you and Evangeline.”

Louisa wrapped her
arms around Kit, drawing him closer and kissing his face.  He began to move again, gentler this time, kissing her lips, his eyes never leaving hers.

“I’ll never leave you, Kit.  You are mine as much as I’m yours.  Nothing will come between us.  I promise.”
 

Finn couldn’t remember when he stopped running, or when he left the road.  All he could remember was finding the farmhouse and crawling into the hay in one of the empty stalls of the barn.  He was exhausted, hungry, and scared.  His body shook uncontrollably, making his teeth chatter loudly in the silence of the stall.  Finn’s thoughts raced like rats in a maze, scurrying and colliding, but not making any sense.  He would give anything in the world to see his mother’s face or to feel his father’s strong arms around him.  He’d often longed for his biological father, imagining him as a romantic, heroic figure.  His father died for his beliefs, unapologetic and unafraid.  He was a hero.  Alec wasn’t like his real father.  He was safe and solid, never wavering from his course, and Finn wanted him at that moment like he never wanted anyone before.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” he whispered into the darkness.  “I’m sorry for not appreciating you as I should have.  Please come and find me.  Please.  Find me like you found me that time in the cave.”  Finn began sobbing as he remembered that day; the relief he felt when his father climbed into the cave and pulled him out.  He also thought of the baby his mother lost that day.  All because of him.  Finn cried harder, shoving his fist in his mouth to stifle the sobs.  He’d never been so scared in his whole life, or so alone.
  Eventually, the exhausted himself and fell asleep, dreaming dreams of home and family.

**

“Raise your hands above your head and get to your feet.”  The command came from somewhere to the right, but Finn couldn’t see who was speaking from his position in the corner of the stall.  He did as he was told, getting up and inching out slowly with his hands on his head.  A feeble light from the open door illuminated a boy of about fourteen, holding a pitchfork aimed directly at Finn’s stomach.  The boy looked as scared as Finn felt, but he held his ground and gestured toward the door with the pitchfork. 

“Walk.”  The boy allowed Finn to pass in front of him, prodding him gently
as he passed to demonstrate the seriousness of his intentions.  Finn had no choice but to obey. 
Could things get any worse
? he wondered as he was marched to the farmhouse by his captor.

The appetizing smell of frying bacon and freshly-baked brea
d assailed Finn’s senses as he entered the farmhouse.  The family was obviously at breakfast; several children of various ages seated on benches around a wooden table.  An older woman was in the act of setting a pot of porridge on the table, but stopped with the pot in midair when Finn walked in, turning to her husband for an explanation.  The man sat at the head of the table, pewter tankard in hand, ready to take a sip of whatever he was drinking. 

“I found him sleeping in the barn, Pa,” the boy announced, his chest swelling with pride.  “I took him prisoner.  He’s most likely a Royalist spy.”  The boy prodded Finn again, forcing him to advance
further into the room.  Finn hoped no one heard his stomach growl as he inhaled the comforting smell of hot porridge.

The older man put down his tankard, his gray eyes never leaving Finn’s face.  “Put down the pitchfork Jonah before you hurt someone.  Well done,” he added hastily
, noting the look of hurt on his son’s face. 

“Now, who might you be?”  He looked more curious than angry, giving Finn hope that he might escape unscathed.

“My name is Finlay Whitfield.  I didn’t mean any harm, sir.  I was lost and needed a warm place to sleep.  I’m deeply sorry for any offense I have caused.  May I be on my way?”  Finn tried to ignore the curious glances of the other children, their food forgotten for the moment. 

“Where are you headed, Finlay Whitfield?”
  The man sounded serious, but his eyes twinkled with good humor as he studied the young man in front of him.

“I don’t know, sir.  I have no place to go.”  Finn averted his eyes as hot tears sprang into them unbidden, making him feel like a little boy.  He wouldn’t give these people the satisfaction of crying. 

“You must be hungry, son,” the woman said.  “Why don’t you join us for breakfast?  There’s plenty for everyone.”  She was already setting a place at the table, but Finn looked at her husband before answering.  The man nodded in agreement, gesturing toward the empty place at the table.  “Sit down and have some food.  You look the worse for wear.  We’ll talk more after you eat.” 

Finn stole a glance at
Jonah, who looked abashed by his father’s reaction to the stranger.  He slammed the pitchfork against the wall before taking his place at the table, his face red with anger.

“Who do I have the honor of addressing, sir?”  Finn asked, taking a seat.  “I’ve given you my name, but I have yet to learn yours.”

The man smiled warmly, clapping Finn on the back, his gray eyes dancing with amusement at Finn’s forced formality.  “You are right, of course.  I failed to introduce myself.  I’m John Mallory, and that’s my wife, Hannah.  You’ve already met Jonah.”  He pointed to the eldest girl at the table.  “That there is Martha, followed by Abigail, Sarah, and Annie.  Where is your family?”

“I don’t know, sir.  We’ve become separated recently.” Finn gratefully spooned porridge into his mouth, the warm mush soothing his aching belly.  He’d leave the bacon and bread for last since it was the tastiest. 
God only knew when he’d get to eat again.

“Are your parents Royalists or do they support the cause
of freedom?” Mr. Mallory asked, taking a large bite of bread and chewing thoughtfully.  Finn was about to blurt out that his family was loyal to the King, when he recalled the man being dragged from his house by the mob the night before.  They’d called him a “Royalist”.  Maybe boasting of his loyalty to the King wasn’t such a smart idea.

“We are not Royalists, sir.” 

“Hmm,” the man said, shaking his head.  “I see.”  Finn wasn’t really sure what he saw, but thought it was better to say as little as possible until he figured out what was happening.  Everyone ate in silence for a little while, spoons scraping plates; the only sound aside from the fire crackling in the hearth. 

Finn was fairly sure that the Mallorys would let him leave after breakfast, although he had no idea where to go. He wondered if he should hide a piece of bread in his doublet for later, since he had no money for food. 
Going to Jamestown to look for Charles had been the extent of his plan, and now he was at a loss, which obviously showed in his face.  Mr. Mallory wiped up some bacon grease with the heel of his bread, his eyes still on Finn, before speaking.

“It seems to me, you’re in a bit of a predicament, young Finlay,” Mr. Mallory said at last.  “You see
, son, I’m in a predicament as well.  My eldest, Samuel, is a corporal with the Continental Army.  Enlisted in the spring.  Jonah here is burning to enlist as well, but he’s only fifteen and too young to fight, thankfully.  With all these women, I find myself short of help on the farm, and seeing as you have nowhere to go, maybe you’d be willing to stay for a while.  I can’t afford to pay you, but I can provide you with a warm, dry place to sleep and three meals a day.  There is no contract so you would be free to leave any time you chose to.  Now, does that sound like something that might appeal to you?”

Finn looked up from his bacon, surprised by the offer. 
They seemed like a nice family, and if he could stay for a while with no obligation, that would give him a chance to get his bearings.  It’s not like he had anywhere else to go, and at least he’d have food to eat and a roof over his head.  Finn sighed at the thought of his parents.  They must be sick with worry, not knowing what happened to him.  He needed time to figure out what to do.

“Thank you, sir.  I’m most grateful for your offer, and I gladly accept.  You won’t be sorry, sir.  I’m a hard worker,” he added for good measure, although his father always said he was lazy
and spoiled. 

“Very well then.  You can sleep in the loft with Jonah.”
  Mr. Mallory popped the heel of bread into his mouth and took a last sip of ale before making to rise from the table.

“That’s Sam’s bed,” piped in Jonah, obviously outraged.
  He’d remained silent throughout the meal, but couldn’t hold in his frustration any longer.

“Well, Sam’s not using it at the moment, is he?  I might have some of Sam’s old clothes as well,” suggested Mrs. Mallory.  “Your garments seem somewhat out of date, if you don’t mind me saying so.”  She looked at Finn’s leather doublet and br
eeches as if trying to put a date to them. 

“That would be most kind of you, Madam.  Anything you can spare.”  The idea of wearing someone’s clothes wasn’t appealing, but he had no wish to stand out. 

“Now, Jonah can show you around the farm after breakfast.  We have a field to clear today, so your help will be most welcome, Finlay.”  Mr. Mallory rose from the table, ready to start his day. 

“Please, call me Finn.  Everyone else does.”  Finn smiled in gratitude as Mrs. Mallory added more bacon to his plate.  She seemed like a kind woman
- like his mother.