Forever Mine (30 page)

“I trust you’ll not make things difficult for Lockwood simply because you’re angry at me,” he murmured.

“Trust?” she rasped softly. “As I recall, you can’t trust me at all.”

“I deserved that,” he said quietly. Despite knowing the vicious barb was well-earned, it didn’t make it sting any less. “Forgive me.”

Without waiting for a response, he released her hand, and walked out of the salon. At the moment it was the closest thing to an apology he could manage. Somehow he’d find a way to heal the breach between the two of them.

G
ood Lord, had the man just apologized? But for what? His lack of trust in her or something else? Victoria stared after Nicholas as he disappeared through the doorway. Vickie’s affairs had humiliated Nicholas, and her own past had hit too close to home for him. She was certain now that he’d viewed it as a reminder he’d been made a fool of once before. If there was one thing she’d already figured out, Nicholas didn’t like being made a fool of, and he was smart enough to ensure it didn’t happen a second time.

Despite that, it had stung like hell when he’d offered to forgive her past simply to allow their relationship to move forward. It was as if he’d agreed to accept damaged goods because the price was right. Perhaps that was the most painful thing of all. He’d made what they’d exchanged last night seem like a one night stand between two strangers. As far as she was concerned, last night had been magical up until the moment he’d offered to forgive her. She wanted desperately to believe Nicholas had felt the connection between them that she had, but if he had, she didn’t think he’d understood it.

Even with the harsh words between them, the memory of last night still made her heart skip a beat. Vivid and strong, the images flooded her head as to how he’d taken her to the brink then sent her tumbling over the edge to a place she wanted him to take her to again and again. The sensitive spot between her legs suddenly ached with an intense need.

What was it about Nicholas that created such strong emotions inside her? Every sensation she experienced in his presence was either all or nothing. From the moment she’d first seen him, she’d been drawn to him with an intensity that scared the hell out of her. But none of that mattered. The only thing she cared about was that he realize, and believe, she wasn’t Vickie.

The revelation stunned her, and she inhaled sharply. It wasn’t that she wanted him to believe she was out of place or time. She wanted him to believe she wasn’t the woman he’d married. Worse, something deep inside told her that even if she could make him realize the truth about her, there could be no real future for them. It wouldn’t matter if Vickie returned or not. Victoria could not escape the Damocles’ Sword hanging over her head. She had no idea if or when she’d return to her own time. How could she try to build a life here never knowing?

Victoria winced. What the hell was wrong with her? She was insane to think she wanted to stay in the past. The furious sound of a pencil scratching across paper jerked her out of her thoughts, and she turned her head toward the artist standing to one side of her. A large drawing pad cradled in one arm, he was drawing rapidly on the paper. The moment she moved, Lockwood immediately protested.

“Please remain still, my lady. I’m trying to capture all of these emotions as quickly as I can.”

Fear spiked through her as she realized the young artist had been sketching ever since Nicholas had left the room. Had her face been too expressive? Would Nicholas be able to see her feelings in the portrait?

“You may relax now, my lady. I believe I captured enough images to give more depth of emotion to your portrait.”

“I’m afraid to ask what you saw,” she said tentatively as she met the artist’s gaze. Victoria could only hope he hadn’t seen too deep into her soul. Lockwood studied her face for a moment, before he resumed drawing again.

“I saw a woman struggling to keep her husband from seeing too deep into her heart. I also saw that elusive quality I think your husband referred to. It’s as though you have a terrible weight resting on your shoulders.”

The artist’s observations made Victoria bite down on her lip. If Mr. Lockwood could see all of that in her, having him paint her portrait could be dangerous. The last thing she wanted the artist to see or paint was that she was in love with Nicholas. Shock made her heart stop for a slow beat, and she swayed on her feet. She barely knew Nicholas, how could she be in love with him.

“Are you all right, Lady Guildford?” The artist exclaimed softly as he dropped his tools and hurried to her side. Victoria shook her head as she waved him off.

“It’s nothing. I’ve not been feeling well recently.”

“Lord Guildford explained that you’d been injured, and he was quite adamant that I not overtire you.”

“I’m not surprised he was adamant. Nicholas is used to getting his way,” she said with a wry note in her voice.

“Why don’t we resume our sitting tomorrow?”

“Thank you. I’m not going to deny that I’m tired. I’ll feel better tomorrow.”

“But of course,” Lockwood said with a nod.

Victoria forced a smile to her lips then made her way out of the salon and up to her bedroom. As she reached her room, she closed the door behind her and pressed her back against the wood. What had she done? How could she possibly be in love with a dead man? No, Nicholas wasn’t dead, not here anyway. He was very much alive. Last night was proof enough of that.

Her body grew warm as she remembered how he’d caressed and stroked her with his hands and mouth. Equally memorable had been the way she’d fallen asleep in his arms. The quiet tenderness of his embrace made her heart ache as the truth chilled her. She was in love with a man who had lived and died long before she was born. No matter how real her life here felt, it wasn’t her reality.

Victoria pushed herself away from the door to cross the floor and sink down onto the lounge sofa. From her seat, she could see where the lawn met pasture land, which stretched out as far as she could see. Even on this gloomy, fall day, Brentwood Park was still beautiful. She could easily come to love it here just as much as she loved its owner. The silent admission tugged at her like the undertow of a strong wave.

The longer she remained in the past with Nicholas, the more devastating her heartbreak when she returned to her own time. The thought of leaving Nicholas twisted painfully in Victoria’s chest. It was unlike any pain she’d experience before. It was as if someone had reached into her chest and squeezed her heart in a fierce, agonizing grip. Instinctively she knew the longer she remained here the pain would grow exponentially until it would be unbearable when she returned to the future.

Tears pushed against her eyelids, and she bowed her head. If she went home now she was certain it would be easier to forget. A nerve ending in her head fired off a protest. Did her way home lie in the mist? Could it be that simple? In a bizarre sort of way it made sense. The only time she had a headache was when she thought about how she got here from her own time. Another nerve ending pulsed viciously in her head signaling for her to stop.

If she could remember what happened before the explosion—a ripple of excruciating pain slammed into her head. She gasped at the strength of it. Valiantly, she struggled to hold back the nausea threatening to overcome her. If this was what it took to—the mist enveloped her, but this time it was nothing but cold, damp and frightening. Heavy and dense, the fog was as ominous as the silence surrounding her.

Unlike her other experiences, she felt nothing but fear. It spiraled through her until it became a blind panic. In the faint light, she sensed someone close by. She crept toward the presence then stopped as two shadowy figures came into view. Dirt scraped across a shovel and heightened her fear. The sound was just as insidious now as it was in her nightmares.

Her heart pounding like a drum in her ears, she wanted to find her way out of this hell she’d entered. But she couldn’t move. In a split second, she realized she was lying on her back with dirt hitting her face. Paralyzed, her limbs were stiff, and it was impossible to keep the soil from slowly covering her body. Terror filled her as she tried to scream. Soon she’d be buried beneath the earth. The depth of her fear clawed its way through her as she struggled to breathe. Dirt continued to clog her nose and mouth. The air slowly disappeared from her lungs leaving in its place a fiery pain. The abrupt sensation of being shaken pierced through the veil of dark mist, and she drank in deep, gasping breaths of air. The wild pounding of her heart slowly ebbed away to a softer rhythm as she stared up into Molly’s worried gaze.

“Good heavens, my lady. You gave me a fright. I need to fetch his lordship. He’ll want to know you’re ill.”

“No,” Victoria whispered hoarsely. “You’re not to mention this to his lordship. Is that clear, Molly.”

The maid studied Victoria with a pensive expression for a long moment before she slowly nodded. Victoria dragged in several more deep breaths as she fought to regain her bearings. Her gaze met Molly’s worried one, and Victoria waved a hand in a gesture of reassurance.

“I’ll be fine. It was nothing more than a headache.”

“Yes, my lady.” Molly’s response was quiet, but Victoria heard the disbelief in the maid’s answer. One hand rubbing her temple, she met the girl’s worried gaze.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she muttered with exasperation. “I’ll be fine.”

“Are you certain, my lady?” Molly’s hand touched Victoria’s shoulder. “You still look a trifle pale.”

“I promise you, Molly. I’m fine,” Victoria said firmly as she stood up and walked to the window. “And not a word to Lord Guildford. Is that understood?”

“Yes, my lady.” Molly looked unhappy, but Victoria was certain the maid would obey her order. The young woman picked up some towels off the bed. “I’ll just put these up and leave you be, my lady.”

Victoria nodded then turned toward the window. The rain had stopped, but dark clouds still hovered over the landscape. She rubbed her forehead with the tips of her fingers, carefully avoiding the cut that hadn’t healed yet. She’d not admitted it to Molly, but her head hurt like hell. It had been a mistake to try and go back into the mist. She didn’t understand how or why, but the fog represented life-and-death. The thought of experiencing those horrible moments again made Victoria’s stomach churn.

Determined to think of something else, she pressed her hand against the cool glass pane. Winter wasn’t far off. Even in cold weather she was certain Brentwood Park would be beautiful. What would it look like in the spring and summer? The image of a warm spring day spent with Nicholas and Edmund lifted her spirits slightly. It was a lovely thought, and she could only hope it would come true.

How was it possible to have fallen in love with Nicholas in such a short time? She tried to put it down to a fabulous night of sex, but she knew differently. There was a sense of knowing that came with her feelings for him. This wasn’t the first time their destinies had been entwined so closely.

“Can I fetch you anything at all, my lady?” Molly’s voice interrupted Victoria’s brooding. She turned toward the maid who was standing near the door with a look of concern on her face.

“No thank you, Molly.” She forced a smile to her lips then turned back to the window. “I think I’ll read for a bit. Edmund brought me one of his mother’s books.”

“Very well, my lady.”

Victoria heard the soft click of the door closing behind the maid. She closed her eyes as an image of Nicholas filled her head. Beyond logic or reason she’d found the love of her life in the past. It made no sense whatsoever, but she accepted it for the truth it was. Falling in love with Nicholas in such a brief amount of time was far more believable than the idea she was from the future. The sudden need to pour her heart out to someone gripped her, but the only person she could talk to was Anna.

She remembered the diary she’d begun. It would give her the outlet she needed. Victoria sat down at the secretaire and pulled out the journal she had started. The words came slowly at first before her pen raced across the page in an effort to get all of her thoughts on paper. Every word was written evidence of her life here no matter how short a time it was. She wasn’t sure if it was a way to make things real, or an attempt to leave evidence that she’d existed here for a short time. Evidence she could find in her own time to prove she wasn’t insane.

The more she wrote, the more cathartic the experience became. The linen parchment brushed softly against her fingers as she wrote until the emotions seething inside her became nothing more than a quiet murmur. Exhausted, she closed the journal and buried it in the far corner of the desk. As she closed the desk lid, a tear slid down her cheek. She wiped it away. Victoria turned her head to look out the window. The sky had lightened considerably with a hint of sunshine trying to push through the clouds.

Victoria’s gaze swept across the pasture land, and a sudden urge to go riding swept through her. The cold air would help clear her head and help her work off the restlessness inside her. No sooner had the idea swept through her head than it died. There was only one habit in her wardrobe, which she had to wear tomorrow for her portrait. A slow smile curled her lips. She didn’t have to wear the habit at all. Anticipation made her ring for Molly. When the maid arrived, Victoria smiled at the younger woman.