Overseas (42 page)

“Beloved,” he said brokenly. I slid down from the sofa and buried myself in the loving mass of him. “Forgive me. For this, and for the rest of it.”

I looked up at his face, at the harsh shadows under his cheekbones cast by the single lamp. “Actually,” I said, “I think Geoff’s the one who really needs to pay, here.”

“Oh, he will,” Julian said darkly.

I sat back and took his hands in mine; some instinct made me look down at them. “Oh my God! What happened?”

He glanced down at the red raw skin on the knuckles of his right hand. “Nothing.”

“You
punched
someone!” I said accusingly, looking back up at his face, over which the shutters had abruptly slammed tight. “When did this happen?”

No answer.

I narrowed my eyes. “Fine,” I said, and took his hand to drag him back down the hall to our room.

“Oh, bloody hell,” he said when he saw the small blue first-aid kit. “It’s not a
wound,
Kate.”

I said nothing, only opened the case and took out the alcohol swabs.

“I survived the Western bloody Front without this rubbish,” he grumbled, wincing manfully. “The most unsanitary conditions imaginable.”

“It was Banner, wasn’t it?” I tossed the swab into the wastebasket and uncapped the Neosporin.

“We exchanged a few words,” Julian said, “by which I conveyed to him my displeasure at his insulting manner of address.”

“Defending my honor, were you?” The corner of my mouth turned up; I bent my head over his hand to hide it.

“The trouble with the modern era,” he said, “or one of them, is that boorish idiots like Banner are allowed to run amok, insulting other men’s wives…”

“I’m not your wife. And he
was
pretty drunk.”

“Men who can’t hold their liquor shouldn’t drink. And you
are
my wife, as far as I’m concerned. Oh, not a
Band-Aid
, Kate!”

“SpongeBob or Hello Kitty?”

He glared.

“Kidding. Just humor me for tonight, okay? You can take it off in the morning before anyone sees you.” I began removing the tabs.

“Kate,” he sighed, “I think I’ve done a reasonable job of conforming to the conventions of this world. I’ve made adjustments, I’ve modernized, I’ve adapted. But one thing I refuse to concede is my right to punch the
lights out of any man who dares to insult you. Not because you’re helpless; God knows you’re not. But because no man can stand by idly and see his idol defamed.”

I gave his hand a last pat and looked up, hoping he wouldn’t notice the sheen in my eyes. “Well, I guess I can live with that. Just try not to hurt yourself, okay?”

A faint snort. “Men haven’t the least idea how to fight properly anymore. No sport in it at all.”

“So what did Banner do when you hit him?”

A smirk hovered, for just an instant, around his generous mouth. “Begged your pardon.” He reached out and cupped my chin. “Am I forgiven yet?”

“The trouble with you, Ashford,” I said, taking the hand and weaving my fingers inside it, “is that you make it so freaking hard to stay mad at you. So, before I melt completely, can you at least tell me the full story, please? What’s Arthur Hamilton doing in your life?”

Julian shrugged. “He walked into our offices one morning, right after we started up. It was just Geoff and me and a back-office assistant at that point, and Geoff quite literally fell out of his chair. It was a cheap second-hand chair, you understand,” he explained. “He hadn’t any financial-markets experience, of course, so we took him on in a sort of marketing role, just to give the poor blighter a job.”

“Had he just, you know,
arrived
?”

“More or less. Among his papers were directions on how to find us.”

“That is just so weird. I mean, how is this
happening
?”

“Believe me, I’d give my left arm to find out.” Julian drew me into the armchair with him and tucked me against his chest. “In Arthur’s case, I wonder whether it wasn’t more a curse than a blessing. He wasn’t a born soldier, you know. A bit windy, to be perfectly candid; his letters always bristled with a palpably false cheerfulness. The powers that be rather wisely assigned him staff duties, behind the lines in Amiens, but it didn’t last, unfortunately; he transferred to battlefield command just a few weeks after
my own disappearance. I daresay he was fairly miserable, leading his men over the top.”

“But isn’t he glad to be alive now?”

He began to stroke my hair. “I’m not at all sure he is. It’s not easy, you know, being lifted away from everything one knows, even in the middle of a hellish war. It’s damnably disorienting. One’s got to find something to live for. I often feel he hasn’t really joined this world, this modern world; he misses Flora, for one thing. She was his mainstay, fighting his battles for him and all that. Now he hardly knows what to do with himself. We try to bring him out, buck him up. He leans particularly hard on Geoff, shares an office with him. Poor devil.” He shook his head. “It’s as though he left his soul behind him. Forgot to bring it along.”

The silence closed back around us for a moment, lighter now; I felt his hand move in my hair, his steady heartbeat under my ear, and no longer felt like a doll or a caged bird or a whore.

Just myself.

“If I married you tomorrow,” I said, “would you tell me?”

“No.”

“When, then?”

“In the fullness of time, beloved. You’ll know everything. My only task is to protect you until it arrives.”

“Freaking paranoid.”

“Afraid so. Can you live with
that
?”

“I have to. I can’t live without
you
.”

“Then”—his voice dropped down to a low whisper—“you’ll stay here with me? No more talk of packing your bags?”

I bit my lip. “It’s not fair, Julian. You say you’re mine, you’ll do as I ask, but I end up with nothing, don’t I? You win. Again.”

“Kate, Kate.” His arms tightened. “Don’t, sweetheart. On my honor, it’s all for you. If you
knew
. If…” He cut himself short, then went on, more evenly, “When it’s all over, I’ll devote myself to your every whim, I swear it. No law whatever but yours.”

“That’s not what I want from you.”

“Please, beloved.” His voice turned beguiling in my ear. “Say you’ll stay. You know I’m useless without you. Give me just a little more time; that’s all I ask. Have faith in me.” He skimmed his fingers along the length of my arm to clasp my hand, and I closed my eyes, fighting him. “Please, Kate. My only beloved.” He kissed my fingers. “Say it quickly, because the sight of you in that robe makes my head spin, and I’m not certain how much longer I can remain reasonably coherent.”

The breath went out of me in a snort of laughter. “Fine. You win. One week.”

“One
week
?”

“You have one more week to figure this thing out. If I don’t get answers, I’m going back to Connecticut.”

“One week.” He frowned.

“You can come up and visit,” I said. “I’d let you in.”

“Thanks bloody much.”

“And I’d take Eric,” I added, though his frown only deepened at that. “Please, Julian. Just promise me no more secrets.”

“I’m sorry,” he breathed into the skin of my throat. “For tonight, and for all I’ve asked you to bear, you lovely noble thing.”

My eyelids sank down. “The
secrets
, Julian.”

He paused, his lips just shy of my mouth.

“Oh, all right. You still have a week. As long as it’s nothing to do with this.”

“This?”

I waggled my finger between his chest and mine. “You know. This
thing
between us.”

“Ah.” He smiled against my lips. “You must be talking about
love
, Kate.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

His low chuckle rippled the air. “Sweetheart. Then I’ll say it enough for both of us. I love you, Kate.” He kissed my lips. “I love you.” He kissed the hollow behind my ear. “I love you.” He bent and kissed my bare
shoulder. “I love you.” He picked me up in his arms and laid me reverently on the bed. “I love you, minx. Though you’re the devil of an amount of trouble.”

I curled my hands about his face. “That’s why you love me, though.”

“Beyond all bloody reason.” And he eased off my robe and made love to me, thorough and tender, with the dim lamplight slanting over his skin and only the gleaming red rubies between us.

“S
O THERE’S ANOTHER REASON
,” I whispered, as we lay tangled in the darkness.

“Another reason for what, darling?” he said, sleepy-voiced.

“Another reason I was a wee bit emotional tonight.”

“Were you? I hadn’t noticed.”

“Um,” I said.

“Ah. An interesting sound, that. I wonder what it means.” His hand stroked along my arm, up and down, as if he were calming a skittish horse.

“It means…” I swallowed, gathering courage.

“Yes?”

“It means I’m pregnant.”

Amiens

J
ulian knocked on my door at exactly five minutes to seven.

“Come in.” I set down my newspaper and rose from the bed.

“I’m so sorry to be late,” he said, entering in a gust of male energy. “These colonels do go on.”

“That’s all right,” I choked. My voice had dried up. This was my last chance; I had one final desperate card to play.

“Have you had a pleasant day? Found lunch and so on?” He glanced at the fire, simmering feebly in its tiny wrought-iron surround, and stepped to the coal scuttle.

“Yes. I went out to that place you took me for breakfast yesterday. The Chat d’Or. Then I did a little shopping.” I watched him straighten from the fireplace and turn to face me. I twirled for him. “It was nice to change out of my travel dress.”

“It’s lovely.” He paused, putting both his hands behind his back. “I’m sorry to have abandoned you all day. I realize it must be rather dull for you. Rather strange. Not your own time.”

“Dull? Not a bit. It’s like walking into a history book. The cathedral, all sandbagged. Everybody in uniform. All the signboards and things. It’s amazing. I…” The cheerfulness rang false. My gaze slid down to the unfinished floorboards beneath my shoes, to the corner of a threadbare rug fraying next to my toes.

I heard Julian’s feet shift, creaking the floor; his throat cleared into the silence. “Perhaps… would you perhaps like to have dinner? We might run down to the Chat, or else… I believe there’s another café, near the station…”

I looked back up at the meandering glow cast across his face from the candle on my bedside table. The electricity had gone out an hour ago, with abrupt finality. “We don’t need to go out. I’ve brought a few things back from the shops. Wine and cheese and bread. Unless you’d rather…”

“No, no. That sounds lovely. A sort of picnic.”

“Yes, exactly.” My hands came together in front of me, tangling at the tips.
Now. It must be now
. “Do you mind… do you mind if we talk for a moment first? There’s something more I want to tell you, and since I’ve been sitting here working up the courage, I might as well do it now.”

“Of course.”

The room had only one chair, skinny and wooden, its worn rush seat unraveling precariously. I motioned Julian into it, and then eased down on the edge of the bed. “Um, I’m not quite sure how to begin.”

He leaned forward in his chair, setting his forearms on his knees, clasping his hands together, and smiled. “Kate, I believe you.”

“I know. I know you do. But this involves you as well as me, and it’s… it may be hard for you to understand. To accept. You said…” The words jumbled together in my mouth. I closed my eyes and gathered myself, forced my thoughts into the logical train I’d spent the afternoon rehearsing. “You said you had the feeling we’ve met before. That’s not exactly true, but it’s not exactly false, either.”

“What do you mean? When did we meet?”

“You asked me my last name before. I told you I couldn’t tell you, because you wouldn’t believe me. Possibly you still won’t.”

“Why wouldn’t I believe
that
? After everything else?”

“Because my name is Kate Ashford. And I’m your wife.”

His face, so open and ardent, seemed to freeze in place like a death mask.

“Julian, listen to me. You’re not going to be killed in that raid tomorrow night. You’ll be transported through time, like I was, into the end of the twentieth century. Where you’ll meet me, eventually, in New York City.”

“You.” The word fell between us.

“Me.” I couldn’t stop the tears then: they welled around the edges of my eyeballs. “For some…
unfathomable
reason, you’ll fall in love with me, and I with you. And I never told you that. I never told you I loved you, because it frightened me; I somehow thought that would jinx it all, because you—your love—were all too good to be true. And because I couldn’t say it as well as you, couldn’t put the right words together. Which was so stupid of me, so cruel, when you were always so generous that way.”

I slid my thumbs under my eyes and gathered the ragged ends of my courage. “So I’ll tell you now. I’ll tell you everything. I love the sound of your voice and hearing you play the piano for me in the evenings. I love the silly little verses you write and leave on my pillow in the morning. I love your brilliance and your kindness, the way you can slaughter fools on Wall Street and then weep at the opera the same evening. I love those old moccasin slippers you wear around the house, when it’s just us. I love the way you hold me in your arms at night and call me your little minx, even though it’s probably really sexist somehow, and the expression on your face when you… when we…” My voice stumbled. I turned away, to the wall, where a small cheap painting of a Madonna regarded us beatifically from the faded wallpaper. “I know I’m nothing but a stranger to you now. But you’re everything to me. You’re my life. Just to have you near me, even the
you
that doesn’t know me, is like heaven to me.”

I heard his silence with dread, unable to move my eyes. The rapid heavy thump of footsteps broke into the stillness between us, crossing the hallway just outside the door before receding up the stairs.