Between (8 page)

Don’t you want me?

He growled in frustration and crossed the room in quick strides, then grabbed me by the shoulders. “How can you even think that? Gracious, woman, it takes every ounce of strength I have not to take you right now in this bed. The touch of your hair, your soft breasts, your arse…” He gaze poured over my body and he moaned in frustration. “I’m killing myself to safeguard your purity and you…”

His face fell suddenly and he scowled at me, eyes filled with suspicion. “But maybe you’re not an honest woman after all. Have you already given yourself to another man, then? Is that it?” My mouth fell open in shock at his accusation. “Well, is it? Is that why you want to go further, because you’ve already warmed another man’s bed?” His words were acidic and blunt, but his hands trembled as he waited for my response.

I shook my head and sputtered incoherently, “No, I… I just… I’ve never…” But the look of distrust I saw in his eyes made me defensive and the frustration I felt earlier blossomed into anger.

“
I am a virgin, but what if I weren’t? What if I had slept with someone else on earth? Does that mean that I wouldn’t be good enough for you? You said you love me but if that’s all that matters to you, you might as well take me to heaven right now, Aiden MacRae.”

He stiffened as if I’d slapped him. Silence hung in the air between us, heavy with fear and doubt. His eyes drilled into mine until I had to look away. His voice was quiet when he finally spoke.

“
If you ask me to take you to heaven, I cannot deny you, Lindsey. So tell me honestly now, for I am bound by your answer. Do you truly want to go?”

The pain in his voice broke me. “No, I don’t,” I said, my voice wavering with emotion. “I want to stay with you. I’m sorry. It’s just… I don’t know how much time we have and I wanted to know what it’s like before I go. Is that so wrong?”

He sat next to me on the bed and held my hand. “No, it's not wrong of you to ask, but I’ve sinned enough and I won’t add defiling a maiden to the list.”

I reached up and stroked his cheek, wanting him to feel the strength of my love. Pressing his palm to my chest over my heart, I concentrated on the rhythmic beat, slowing my breathing in time. I stared into his eyes, baring my soul.

“
Aiden, I have never loved anyone but you. You are my first and my last.”

“
I do believe you, my sweet. And I can promise you the same.” He leaned toward me and lightly touched his lips to mine. When he pulled away from the kiss, I sagged against him, exhausted. We sat in silence for a while, watching the fire.

“
You know,” I said, “now that I think of it, you may be right about the oatmeal. I probably could use something good for me right now, even if it does taste like cardboard.” I gave him a feeble smile and he cocked an eyebrow at me.

“
What’s cardboard?” he asked.

I started to giggle, softly at first but then giddily, which made him laugh and before we knew it, we were both laughing with tears in our eyes, thankful that the moment had passed.

“
So you really want to go to Paris, eh?” He looked down at me, checking to see if I’d changed my mind. I nodded earnestly and he sighed in resignation, then stood up. He reached out one hand and pulled me to my feet. “Well, all right then. You asked for it. Let’s go to Paris.”

The sunny bedroom dissolved around me. We were standing on a cobbled street with gray clouds overhead and a drizzly mist in the air. I shivered and pulled my arms around my body, the coarse wool of my overcoat scratchy under my fingers. My hair was pulled up under a floppy bonnet, and the long, gray cloak hung heavy on my shoulders.

Aiden’s outfit was a scaled-back version of the one he’d worn to the ball. His light blue jacket was knee-length and had modest silver buttons down the front. His tan trousers underneath fit snug against his legs, buttoning at the knees, and he wore heavy white tights underneath. His hair was pulled back and tied with a small ribbon and he wore a hat that pulled up on the sides and sat low in the front.

Tall brick buildings loomed over either side of the narrow street. Uncle Alex and young Aiden walked briskly through the skinny passage and I struggled to keep up with them. A beggar sat with his hand out in front of a row of apartments. He was hardly more than a pile of bones: his tattered clothes hanging on him loosely, his beard scraggly and unkempt, his eyes devoid of hope. My heart reached out to him in compassion as we passed. Young Aiden looked back at the man and said something to Alex who jerked his head in distaste and continued on. I looked up at Aiden next to me, but he was staring straight ahead with his jaw locked in concentration.

We turned the corner onto a wider street where men and women milled about, talking quietly with their heads down. The buildings all had bars over the windows and I watched with interest as an old woman opened one of the windows in the top story.

“
Garde a l’eau!”
she shouted and then dumped a pot into the street below. Realization struck me and I stopped mid-stride, pulling on Aiden’s sleeve and pointing up at the window.

“
Ewww! That woman just dumped raw sewage into the street!” My eyes widened in horror as I peered down the rows of windows in the building to see the scene repeated further down.

Aiden shrugged, nonplussed. “They don’t have the luxury of a privy here in the city with so many people in tight quarters. So they dump it in the street and wait for the rain to wash it off into the river.” I made a gagging face and shook my head, understanding a bit more why he didn’t want to bring me here.

As we walked, another beggar on the street reached out and grabbed the hem of young Aiden’s jacket, pleading for bread. Aiden shook his head at the man sadly, brushing away his hand, and kept walking alongside his uncle. My mind was reeling, seeing the filthy, miserable city after having just spent such an indulgent evening at the king’s palace.

“
Come on, then.” He took my hand and pulled me toward a pub down the street. The small tavern seemed to be the only lively thing in sight, with bawdy music spilling out the doors and shouts of drunken laughter coming from within. I relaxed and smiled, grateful for the evidence of life in this dank and gloomy memory. Aiden squeezed my hand, his face drawn.

Just then I heard a woman’s piercing cry for help and my heart leapt into my throat. Young Aiden looked quickly at his uncle with a question in his eyes and Alex nodded, almost imperceptibly. Aiden took off like a shot down the side street, the woman’s cries becoming louder and increasingly frantic. We came upon two men brutally attacking a girl, their eyes full of malice and their tongues hanging out in drunken lust.

One man held her by the wrist and was crouched over her, fondling her, while the other pushed up her skirts with one hand and tugged at the front of his pants with the other. The girl’s blouse was ripped open, her breasts exposed and tears streamed down her battered face as she writhed underneath them, begging them to let her go.

Young Aiden grabbed hold of one man and jerked him to his feet, then punched him hard in the stomach. He wrenched the man’s head backward by his hair and pounded him squarely in the jaw. The blow sent him flying and he landed in a heap on the ground, unmoving.

“
Hey!” the second called out, scrambling to his feet in a wild rage. He drew a knife from his belt and lunged at Aiden.

Instinctively I screamed, “Look out!”

Aiden whirled around and caught the man’s arm, twisting it up behind his back. I heard the bones snap and the man groaned in pain, dropping his knife to the ground with a clang. Aiden’s own blade was at the man’s throat, a thin line of blood trickling down from the tip of it. He growled something under his breath in French to the assailant, who promptly wet his pants. The first man finally came to and took off running. Aiden tossed the man away in disgust and kicked him in the backside as he did, making the rapist tumble and fall to his knees. He hastily pulled himself up and scampered off with his arm bent at an unnatural angle.

Aiden took a deep breath and turned to the girl, who was shaking in fear on the ground and clutching her woolen cloak to her chest. He picked up the man’s knife and held it out to her, hilt first.

“
Pour vous, mademoiselle.”
He bowed to her and waited. Her eyes shone with fear and awe. She hesitantly took the knife from him and tucked it into her skirts.

“
Merci, monsieur. Merci beaucoup.”
She scrambled to her feet and fled.

Aiden walked back to his uncle and approached him with a nervous look. Alex steadied him with a hand on his shoulder, his eyes boring into Aiden’s with intensity. He said something in Gaelic to Aiden who drew in his breath and pulled himself up tall. They stood for a moment, staring at each other wordlessly as thoughts seemed to pass between them, and then turned together toward the tavern. Aiden reached down and took my hand as we walked behind them, his eyes moist.

“
What did he say?” I whispered, not wanting to ruin the moment.

“
He said ‘Well done, my son. I am proud of you.’ And he said it in the tongue of our fathers, which he’d never spoken to me before,” he replied, his voice cracking with emotion. My heart swelled with affection for Alex.

The noise from the pub hit me with a tangible force as we entered, along with the yeasty smell of ale and sweaty, unwashed bodies. The tavern was packed with patrons, the men laughing loudly and playing cards, women sitting on their laps. The open sensuality of the women surprised me: ample cleavage spilling out of their frilly dresses and girlish ribbons in their hair. A blonde woman refilled a customer’s drink and he pinched her butt as she passed. She giggled and batted her eyelashes at him in invitation.

“
Whores,” Aiden said with distaste. The man took a swig of his drink and grabbed the blonde’s hand. She smiled and led him up the stairs at the far end of the pub. Uncle Alex and young Aiden sat at the bar, ordering whisky and some type of stew I’d never heard of. Occasionally a prostitute tried to approach them but would quickly move away after getting a terse word from one or the other.

Aiden spoke next to me, looking out over the tables of men. “It’s a pity that the pub was such a filthy hole because I did love to play cards.” He winked at me to lighten the mood and I smiled, thankful to be safe in his memory so that none of the men could reach out and pinch me.

They finished their meal in silence, then headed out into the rain. I let out the breath I’d been holding as we left the pub and inhaled deeply, hoping for fresh air. Instead, I coughed as my lungs filled with the acrid stench of human waste lining the streets.

“
Is there much more to this memory?” I asked. He stopped walking and took both of my hands in his.

“
Not really, no. This is the Paris that I knew. I’m sorry it’s not what you were hoping for.”

“
No, it’s not your fault. It was stupid of me to insist. We shouldn’t spend what little time we have reliving unpleasant memories.” The thought of being separated from him was like acid in my stomach and I had a sudden urge to share my memories with him before it was too late.

“
Aiden, I want to go home.”

“
Aye, I’ll take you back to the château. Maybe you’d like to see my uncle’s library. He has books in French, Latin, English, Gaelic—thousands of them.”

“
No, I mean I want to go home, back to America, back to my time. I want to take you to the most beautiful places I know, like you’ve done for me.”

“
Well, you can cast a memory or a place just as sure as I can. So, why not? I’d love to see your home.”

Closing my eyes, I concentrated on a happy memory from my childhood, imagining I was there again. The familiar shimmer passed through my flesh like a ripple in a pond and I knew I’d been successful. The cold, drab backdrop of Paris gave way to a beautiful, sunny day in Seattle.

Outside the blue split-level house where I grew up, the garage door was open with our black Chevy Blazer parked inside. My parents shouted to one another from within the house, asking if she’d remember to grab this or where he had last seen that. My 14-year-old self kicked rocks in the driveway, humming songs and trying to stay out of the frenzy. I relished the familiar surroundings but felt a piercing loss, knowing I’d never see my parents again.

Aiden checked out the knee-length shorts and t-shirt I’d cast him in. He lifted up one foot in examination of the flip-flop sandal with a curious expression. But when he saw my shorts and sleeveless tank top, his eyebrows furrowed in disapproval. “You can’t wear that out in public. Why, you’re half naked!”

“
No, I’m not. Everyone dresses this way. Just wait, you’ll see.”

My mother came out through the garage door and pulled open the hatch on the Blazer. Her long blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail with a red bow and her oversized dark sunglasses covered half her face. Her white sundress with red flowers matched her sandals. Her signature perfume enveloped me and I felt a pang of love and regret.

Mom.

Aiden heard and replied with a teasing tone.

Ah, I can see where you get your lovely round arse from.

“
Ewww!” I shrieked in outrage and smacked him on the arm. He laughed and shrugged innocently, pretending he hadn’t said anything at all.