The Bride of Time (33 page)

“A silver bullet could have killed you!”

“If it had hit a vital organ, yes, but it did not. All it did was drain my strength. If we can manage what Moraiva said we must, it will soon be healed.”

“What did she say?” Tessa begged him.

“That the corridors would save us. That needs must we access one that will take us back to a time before we were bitten, and cancel the curse.”

“And…the boy?”

“She has taken him and done the same,” said Giles. “He is Roma, so she will care for him, but we are not out of this until we find our corridor—and we must do that before the guards come or all is for naught.”

“This is what she told me also,” Tessa admitted. “But the corridors have not opened to you.”

“Moraiva said there is one that will. I have only to find it.”

Just then, Able came running with the horses.

“Why three?” Tessa queried, mounting.

Giles glanced about. “Foster!” he called, attracting the valet who stood transfixed by the fire that had destroyed his world. “Will you come with us?” He mounted, and so did Tessa.

“With you, sir?” Foster looked lightning-struck.

Giles nodded. “I do not know where the path will lead, but I want you to travel it with us.”

Shots rang out.

“Quickly, man, decide!” Giles thundered, trying to control the rambunctious mount beneath him.

Without another word, the valet swung himself up into the saddle of the third horse, and all three rode east, using the smoke as a blind with the Guards in close pursuit.

Chapter Twenty-seven

Pistol balls whizzed past Tessa’s ear as they rode hunched low in their saddles. Moraiva had tried to prepare her for this. What troubled Tessa, now that it was upon her, was that Giles had never been able to access the lay lines; they had always rejected him. Now it was vital he escape through the corridors, and she feared she would be accepted while he would not. That would mean sure and sudden death for him, and the thought of being without him…And then there was Foster, facing serious reprisal for complicity. Tessa shuddered at what was yet to occur.

“Where are we going, sir?” Foster asked. “Is it far? You look wretched, sir. Your shoulder is bleeding badly.”

“You will have to ask my lady wife,” Giles called over the wail of the wind that had risen since they set out. “She is going to find us one of the time corridors I told you about.”

“Oh, sir, I believe I’d think twice about that if I were you.”

Giles laughed. “What? Would you rather stay here and face the magistrates for complicity in the matter of Henry Forsythe’s murder?”

“Certainly not!” the valet replied. “It’s just that…these times suit me just right, you see.”

More shots rang out.

“They’re re-loading!” Giles cried, his voice raised in competition with the wind. “Or they’re toting blunderbusses. Still want to keep to your own time, Foster?”

“Now, I never said that, sir!” the valet replied hoarsely.

“We do not know what lies ahead, ’tis true,” Giles hollered, “but we know what we’ve left behind: sudden death for me and God alone knows what fate for you and Tessa…as she is.” She caught his sidelong glance. “Do you know how to get us where we’re going?” he asked. “The guards are gaining on us. Soon one of those pistol balls will hit its mark….”

Tessa’s mind was reeling with questions and fears. Giles was losing too much blood. He was as white as a ghost, and his lips were tinged with blue. He needed help soon, but they dared not stop. They were heading southwest, toward the moor where the little chaise had broken down what seemed a lifetime ago. All at once, it was as if a candle burst into flame in her brain. They were heading the wrong way.

“No!” she cried. “We have to go back! We are going in the wrong direction. We are approaching the place where I ran from you and accessed the corridor, but you could not follow. This isn’t the way.”

“We cannot go back, Tessa. That fire will have brought half the parish. The estate will be swarming with guards.”

“Not back to the Abbey. You must trust me, Giles. I think I know the corridor that will open to you. Follow me!”

She turned due west toward the hills, confusing the guards in pursuit momentarily, but only momentarily.
They soon turned and galloped after them, pistols blazing.

“Tessa, where are you going?” Giles demanded. “The hills are too open. We’re going to be sitting targets!”

“I know what I’m doing!” she called out. “We need to go back to the little hill where our wolves first met face to face. I think it’s this way.”

“Why?”

“Because the corridor there is the one I believe Moraiva wanted you to travel…the one that will admit you. Oh, Giles, if she was right, we can
do
this!”

“No!” he cried. “That hill is farther north. I know it well, and I will never forget our meeting there.”

“Lead us, then!” she begged. “Giles, you must. Are they still following? They’ve stopped shooting.”

“They are likely reloading, and they are gaining on us. I can hear their voices.”

Tessa could not hear them. Could it be his extraordinary hearing, a condition brought to bear by the wolf inside him? It didn’t matter. He had taken the lead. Though he still looked ghastly, he seemed charged with new life as he drove the horse beneath him relentlessly.

He seemed to be struggling, suddenly, and Tessa shouted, “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” he replied. “It’s the horse. It smells the wolf in me. It’s been that way each time I’ve mounted ever since Monty bit me.”

Tessa wasn’t having any such difficulty. Things of this nature were obviously subjective, and she was grateful for it, since she wasn’t a skilled horse woman. Though she had often been around horses, her skills were sorely lacking. Being servant class in London didn’t lend much time for equestrian pursuits.

The hills rose up before them, and cold chills riddled
Tessa’s spine as she took the lead from Giles. This had to be done just so, or they would go the wrong way in time, for the corridors worked in both directions. And the timing had to be precise if she was to implement her plan.

The bloodcurdling sound of pistol fire had resumed, and Foster’s voice sent fresh shivers over Tessa’s body. “Is it much farther?” he cried. “They are almost upon us! I felt the breeze from that last shot. I hope you know what you’re about!”

“Just follow me!” Tessa shrilled. “We must turn back toward London…
now!
”

All at once, she turned the horse sharply to the right, its heavy hooves flinging clumps of sodden turf into the air as she coaxed it eastward, wishing she had more riding experience, for it was all she could do to stay in the saddle. A silvery streak of what looked like metallic water shimmered in front of her: an avenue, a transparent ribbon stretching as far as the eye could see.

“It is! Oh,
it is!
” Tessa cried, riding right into it, with the others on her heels.

Suddenly, the flaming sky was gone. There was no sign of Longhollow Abbey. The bilious clouds had disappeared, and the wind had ceased to blow; a breathless mist had taken its place. It was no longer day. Stars twinkled in the indigo vault above, and a three-quarter moon shone down upon them.

Tessa’s eyes flashed to behind her, and her heart seemed to rise with the lump in her throat, for she did not see Giles straightaway. He was lost in mist, as was Foster.

“Giles!” she called, and held her breath until he emerged from the swirling fog with the valet. “Oh, Giles!” she cried, tears streaming down. “Your wound…it’s gone.”

Dazed, Giles gripped his shoulder, feeling for the wound that wasn’t there.

“And Foster!” Tessa cried. “The wound on your brow…it is gone as well.”

“W-why…so it is!” the valet observed, groping his forehead. “Where are we? Where is this place?”

Tessa ranged her mount alongside them. “Nowhere foreign,” she chirped, her euphoria spilling over. “We are in London…on the outskirts of Cheapside, in the year or Our Lord 1903—
my
year! I mean, the year I came to you from. Oh, Giles,” she sobbed. “Moraiva was right…this is your corridor. This is where you belong, where
we
belong.”

“How on earth can it be?” Foster said.

“Oh, it can—believe me, it can!” Tessa rejoiced. “Come! There is a public house with rooms to let close by.”

“What has happened to the guards?” Foster persisted, glancing behind.

“They have remained behind,” Tessa told him. “Do you not understand, Foster? We have escaped them. We have come where they cannot follow. The corridor is closed to them. We are free!”

“You knew this?” Giles said to Tessa.

She nodded. “I wanted to tell you,” she said. “I knew about the fire, I just didn’t know when it would occur. History has it that we died in the blaze. I was desperately trying to cancel that, since no remains were ever found.”

“Well, my love, evidently you have done,” Giles said, craning his neck for a view of their surroundings, denied them by the fog. “And I suppose I shall have a look at last at one of your horseless carriages?”

“
Horseless
carriages?” Foster echoed. “Impossible!”

Tessa laughed, as she hadn’t laughed since she
couldn’t remember when. “You may even drive one if you wish,” she tittered.

“We need to find lodgings,” Giles said.

“And how will we pay for them?” Foster spoke up. “I saved some of your notes, sir, from the valuables chest in the study, but surely they are outdated if this is the year 1903.”

Tessa took out her pocket. “I still have some of my money left,” she said. “It isn’t much, but it will see us clothed, fed and housed until we can convert your notes into modern-day currency.”

Foster uttered a strangled sound. “The notes can be converted?” he breathed.

Tessa nodded. “At the banks on Threadneedle Street,” she said. “And they may well have appreciated in value. Collectors do it all the time. Giles Longworth, you may well be on the verge of becoming as rich as Croesus!”

Foster gasped. “And you didn’t want me to fetch them!” he scolded.

“I didn’t want you to burn to death,” Tessa replied. She glanced toward Giles, who turned his gaze to the partial moon above. “What is it?” she murmured. Ranging her mount closer, she laid her hand upon his arm, drawing his eyes.

“We won’t
really
know if we are free until the moon waxes full,” he said.

“Look at your wrist.”

He did as she bade and ran his hand thoughtfully over the unblemished flesh where the wound had been.

“And my lip?” Tessa said, calling his attention there.

He studied the place where the bruise had been, his brows knit in a frown. “I want to believe,” he said. “You do not know how I want to believe, but suppose the curse is stronger than time? Moraiva says such curses
are as old as eons. I will not rest easy until the moon waxes full again.”

“For now, my love, let us take this gift and make it our own.”

“What shall we do now?” Foster said.

“Come,” Tessa replied, leading them along the lane. “We are quite safe at this hour. None but the slags will be abroad now. I need to be certain what I have in mind is a viable plan.”

“Where are we going?” Giles asked.

“To the gallery,” Tessa responded. “Slowly now…I have just come from jail in this city, and I have no desire to return to it. If what I have in mind works, we shan’t be long in London.”

They passed St. Michael’s Church and several public houses. Tessa pointed out the Black Boar Inn as a likely place to seek lodgings. Lemon-colored light still puddled in the street from its windows, and a mews behind gave both access to the rear of the establishment and shelter for the horses.

Coming upon the gallery, Giles gasped. A light inside from a gas lamp on the wall illuminated a little alcove where a painting was highlighted.

“Yes!” Tessa cried, a little too loudly in spite of her resolve to keep silent.

“Sir!” Foster murmured. “It’s your painting! How is this possible?”

“It wasn’t a dream!” Tessa said. “Now I know what we must do.”

“What must we do?” Giles asked.

“Nothing to night, certainly,” Tessa admitted. “We cannot linger here. The bobbies patrol these streets all night. We will take rooms at the public house. Tomorrow is soon enough to do what needs must.”

Giles looked confused. “I thought you said a young couple from Yorkshire bought the paintings.”

“I did,” Tessa replied. “But I have brought you here before that sale took place. Tomorrow, my love,
we
are that couple.”

Giles had scarcely gotten Tessa inside their room at the Black Boar Inn when he stripped off her cloak and seized her in his arms like a man possessed, his hands roaming her body as though he were a starving beggar at a feast.

Unbuttoning his breeches, he freed his anxious member, raised her skirt and rushed her against the wall. A husky moan leaked from her throat as he cupped the soft globes of her buttocks in trembling hands. Raising her up, he urged her legs around his waist and took her. Loosing a groan that was more feral than human, he undulated against her, driving his sex deeper with every shuddering thrust.

How warm and welcoming she was. How their bodies fit together as if they were two halves of a whole. Her breasts were a feast for his eyes as he slid her frock down, exposing the creamy white skin and tawny nipples, so hard and tall, begging for his touch. She laced her fingers through his hair as he strummed the turgid buds with his thumbs, and he was undone. Taking her lips in a scorching kiss that drained his senses, he spiraled into the moist heat of her again and again as he tasted her deeply.

Her release was explosive, enveloping his sex, her whole body convulsed in palpating contractions that triggered his own climax. Giles groaned, and groaned again. It was a shuddering, heart-stopping eruption as he filled her with the warm rush of his seed.

Scooping her up in his arms, he staggered to the bed and fell upon her there, inhaling the fragrance of her hot, moist skin, drinking in the scent of violets from her hair that had long since lost its tortoiseshell pins.