PHANTOM IN TIME (34 page)

She
lifted her fulminating gaze to his face. “No.”

“No?”
he repeated, his voice dangerously soft. “We need to settle this, Bella.”

“Not
in your bed, we don't. Take me home.”

She
might not have spoken, for all he took note. He climbed out of the carriage and
extended his hand, regarding her sternly. “Come, Bella.”

“No.”

Grabbing
her forearms, he pulled her out of the carriage into the rain. Yanking loose,
Bella attempted to flee, skidding on the stone banquette, but Jacques
skillfully blocked her escape route, maneuvering her against the town house
facade. Seething with frustration, her hair plastered to her head and neck,
Bella had no choice but to dash inside the courtyard through the gate, which
the embarrassed Luis had opened.

Inside
the enclosure, she looked around wildly for a path to freedom, but found
none—only high walls, plants, and endless slashing rain. Nonetheless, hearing
Jacques behind her, she ran across the slippery flagstones—

He
caught her beneath the eaves of the far courtyard wall, turned her around, and
pinned her against the cold stone.

“No!
No!” she cried, flailing at him.

“Stop
it, Bella.”

She
gasped as she felt his erection pressing into her. “
You
stop it! Let me
go!” she screamed, fighting her overwhelming desires as much as him.

“No,
I cannot,” he replied intensely, gripping her wet face in his hands. “Bella,
please stop fighting and talk to me for a moment.”

“Why
should I?”

“Because
I won't let you go until you do.”

“I
don't want to talk to you. I'm too angry.”

“Where
have you been, Bella?” he demanded, his voice cracking with emotion.

“I .
. . I think, under the circumstances, it's none of your business! Besides, I
tried to tell you and you wouldn't believe me.”

“Of
course I wouldn't believe you when you were talking crazy.”

“Talking
crazy? Who has just been
acting
like a madman?”

“Can
you blame me for being furious, not to mention worried sick?”

“Damn
it, I didn't mean to worry you!”

“Then
tell me where you went.”

Forced
to meet his probing stare, Bella was silent, still not knowing what she should
or shouldn't reveal to him. She was seething over his rough treatment of her,
and was perversely unwilling to share. Even though his nearness was making her
insane with wanting him!

For
a moment they hung at an impasse, both breathing hard as thunder boomed out and
rain flailed the patio beyond them. At Bella's continued resistance, Jacques
tried a new tack, his tone gentling as he brushed tears from her cheeks with
his thumbs. “You said you sang for me tonight, Bella. Is that true?”

“Yes,
I sang for you, Jacques,” she admitted in a breaking voice.

He
touched his lips to her brow. “Then why won't you kiss me now? I've missed you
so.”

Bella
was floundering. “Because—you dragged me out of the theater—”

“I
was insane with fear and jealousy—”

“And
you spanked me—”

“Only
to keep you from hurling yourself out of a moving carriage. Did I really hurt
you so badly?”

“You—hurt
my pride—”

“And
you did not hurt mine when you kissed another man?”

He crushed
her against him and nuzzled his warm lips against the corner of her mouth, his
hot breath scorching her. “Kiss
me,
darling Bella. Love
me.”

At
his stark, heartfelt plea, something snapped in Bella. With a cry of anguish,
she threw her arms around Jacques's neck and kissed him with all the pent up
emotion inside her. He ravished her mouth with a raw intensity that curled her
toes, and his hands roved over her everywhere. He tugged down her bodice and
sucked her tautened nipple inside his mouth. She gasped with pleasure, feeling
his mouth so hot and wet as the cold rain slashed at them, adding its rhythmic
tattoo to their lovemaking—

Bella
could feel the wild tension building in him, in them both, as powerful as the
thunder's roar. Jacques's mouth seized hers again, his tongue drowning her like
the rain. Impatiently he lifted her skirts and pulled down her panties, boldly
parting and stroking her. Feverishly she undid the buttons to his trousers and
slipped her fingers inside, gripping his vast hardness. Never had it felt so
right to be vulnerable to him, for she wanted him now with a fierceness that
was both palpable and painful.

Jacques
pressed her high against the wall and surged into her. Bella sobbed with
pleasure, shuddering against him. She wrapped her legs around his waist and
sank herself onto him, eagerly absorbing his deep, powerful thrusts, taking all
the passion his teeming body could offer her. They kissed ravenously as he
brought them both to a quick, intense climax.

They
hung there together for a long moment, heedless of the rain, both stunned by
the storm of passion that had consumed them. Bella was all but limp as Jacques
carried her upstairs. Just inside the door, he set her down and lit a taper.
Placing it on a table, he eyed her drenched form with concern, especially when
she sneezed.

Stepping
toward her, he vigorously rubbed her wet arms with his hands. “You're
shivering, love. I'll never forgive myself if you become ill.”

Jacques
quickly peeled off Bella's soaked garments, then rubbed down her hair and body
with a towel. His gaze blazed at the sight of her nakedness. “Go get under the
covers—now,” he ordered hoarsely.

Bella
sprinted gratefully off to the bed. Beneath the heavy covers, her shivering was
soon transformed into shudders of longing as she watched Jacques strip off his
own clothing and towel himself dry, the light flickering over the hard, lean
lines of his magnificent body and aroused manhood—

Seconds
later, he slipped between the covers and pulled her on top of him, kissing her
chin, her lips.

Feeling
his hot body against hers was heavenly. “Oh, that feels so good,” she
whispered.

“Now,
to warm you . . .” he murmured. His hands clasped her waist, sliding her
downward until he penetrated her.

Bella
moaned. “I . . . thought you wanted to talk.”

“We
will, love. There's plenty of time for that later. You're not going anywhere,
in case you hadn't figured that out.”

Jacques's
hands roved up and down Bella's spine and bottom, kneading her flesh, warming
her exquisitely. When she caught a glimpse of his eyes, near-black with desire,
she knew there would be little talking between them for a long, long time . . .

Chapter Thirty-one

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“Curious
items, aren't they?”

An
hour later, Bella looked up to see Jacques standing over her, wearing just his
trousers and holding in one hand her lacy white bra, and in the other her
matching bikini panties. His expression was one of amusement mingled with
perplexity. She gulped, realizing that here at last was her opportunity to
level with him completely. Being wrenched away from him without warning—and
realizing she could be again—had convinced her that she needed to tell him the
truth about both her travels through time and his imminent murder—no matter
what consequences her revelations might bring.

She
sat up in bed, drawing the covers to her neck. “Jacques, there are some things
I've been meaning to tell you.”

Tossing
the lingerie onto the bed, he sat down beside her. “Yes,
chérie?”

She smiled.
“You find my underclothes strange.”

“I
do indeed.”

“They're
not from here.”

“So
I presume.”

“That's
because, well,
I'm
not from here. I'm not who I seem to be.”

He
frowned. “What do you mean?”

Bella
took a bracing breath. “I'm from far away.”

“How
far away?”

“Try
the year 1996.”

For
a moment Jacques regarded her in astonishment, then he burst out laughing.
“Don't be absurd! You're not going to start babbling about getting lost in time
again, are you?”

“But
it's true!” she protested. “I'm really from the year 1996.”

He
rolled his eyes. “Then how, pray tell, did you arrive here, a hundred years
removed in time?”

Bella
bit her underlip and carefully considered her words. “Because I was a member of
an opera troupe in 1996 that restaged
Kaleidoscope
at the St. Charles
Opera House.”

“You
must be jesting!”

She
gripped his hand. “No, Jacques, I'm not. Will you please hear me out before you
pass judgment?”

He
groaned. “Very well. Proceed.”

“I
was a member of the chorus in the year 1996, just as I am here.”

“So
you suffered from stage fright there as well?” he asked wryly.

Convinced
that he was giving little, if any, credence to her claims, Bella retained her
patience with an effort. “During rehearsals, I kept seeing a ghost—your ghost,
Jacques—especially during scene changes, when the kaleidoscope revolved.”

Now
he appeared a bit more uncertain, a frown wrinkling his handsome brow. “You had
a kaleidoscope there, too?”

She
nodded soberly.

“And
you saw my ghost,
chérie?”

“Yes,
I did.”

“And
what would my ghost do, pray tell?”

Recognizing
that he was teasing her again, she nonetheless replied in a sober vein. “You
would sing to me, and ask me to come to you.”

He
playfully touched the tip of her nose. “Well, at least that part makes sense.
I'm sure that even as a ghost, if I spotted irresistible you, I'd promptly
seduce you.”

She
spoke through gritted teeth. “Will you be serious?”

He
chuckled, sitting back on the bed and lacing his fingers behind his neck. “But of
course I am serious, Bella. And besides, I mustn't miss a word of this
fascinating tale.”

Eyeing
him askance, she forged on. “Then one night, while the kaleidoscope was
revolving, I was whisked away here.”

“You
mean
here,
to the year 1896?”

“Yes.
One minute I was in the year 1996, leaving the stage right after 'Ride of the
Valkyries.' In the next moment I found myself here, standing amid the 1896
staging of
Carmen
.”

He
was silent, scowling deeply.

“You
do remember how I arrived, without warning, in the midst of your performance?”

“Oh,
yes. But what you are telling me makes no sense. Travel through time is not
possible.”

“It
is according to H. G. Wells,” she argued. “Surely
The Time Machine
as
well as Twain's
A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court
have been
published by now.”

He
waved a hand. “Bah! Pure fantasy and science fiction.”

“No,
it's true,” she insisted. “I think that with the restaging of
Kaleidoscope,
somehow time travel became possible, some sort of passageway was opened.
Perhaps it was the old-fashioned costumes, the historic theater, the
kaleidoscope itself, or the combined ambience of it all. But I traveled through
time—and I can prove it!”

He
gestured dismissively at her bra and panties. “How—with your bizarre
underclothes?”

“No.”
Bella hopped out of bed, crossed the room, and grabbed her dress, breathing a
sigh of relief when she found the Xerox copy still relatively dry, and folded
in her pocket.

Jacques
whistled.

Bella
whirled, her face hot. She realized she'd been so intent on convincing Jacques
she spoke the truth that she hadn't given any thought to the fact that she had
paraded before him, and bent over, stark naked. The hungry look in his eyes
confirmed that he
had
noticed, indeed! And the burning need reflected
there already had her nipples tingling with remembered ecstasy.

“Why
are you looking at me that way?” she asked breathlessly.

“Why
do you think?” he rejoined wickedly. “Let's cease this prattle. Come straddle
me and I'll answer your question.”

“You
rogue!” Tempted though she was, Bella came forward and batted his arm with the
folded paper. “Behave yourself.”

He
took the page with a frown. “What is this?”

“Read
it,” she directed, turning away, grabbing his dressing gown from a chair,
hastily putting it on, and tying the sash. “I think I was sent back in time to
save you, Jacques. For unless you change your ways, you're going to be murdered
in less than a week.”

He
shouted with laughter. “That's the most insane thing I've ever heard.”

“Is
it? Read what I gave you, then tell me it's crazy.”

Unfolding
the sheet of paper, Jacques remarked, “Why, this has the picture of me that
Etienne sent to the
Herald—”

“Just
read it.”

He
complied, his expression soon stunned. At last he glanced up at her. “My God,
Bella, this must be a joke. You—you somehow fabricated this.”

“No,
I didn't.”

“But
this can't be real—the article is dated 1985.”

“It
is
real, Jacques. You see, when I left you, I went back to the present for four
days.”

“You
did
what?”

“You
remember when I disappeared during one of the scene changes?”

“How
could I ever forget?”

“Well,
that was when I was whisked back to the present. One minute I was leaving the
stage following 'Three Little Maids—”

“And
the next?”

“I
somehow went through the kaleidoscope again and arrived back in the present in
the middle of a Mozart duet. I remained there for four days, and tried to
unearth more clues regarding your murder. Unfortunately, I was unable to
determine who intends to kill you, but I did bring this Xerox back with me.”