The Time Keeper (The Guardians of Time Book 1) (6 page)

It wasn’t until the front door was closed behind him that Seb let out the breath he’d been holding.  He would never let her see it, but she terrified him.  Something had shifted between them in the last forty-eight hours and it was like she could look through his eyes and straight to his soul.  Somehow she knew he needed to protect her.

He shuddered.  No one else had ever been able to read him that well.  He needed to keep his guard up with her.

*

When Emilia opened the door, it was clear Justin meant business.  He was wearing a light grey suit with an open-necked sky blue shirt, which made his eyes look brighter and also happened to be Emilia’s favourite shirt of his.  His blonde hair was styled to just the perfect level of designer scruffiness, his jaw cleanly shaven – he was the epitome of young, rich and gorgeous. 

‘Here.’  He thrust a fancy box of chocolates at her.  ‘I thought you might like these.’

‘Thanks.’  She put the box on the hall table and stepped outside.

‘You look… nice.’  He was frowning and she knew it was because she was wearing trousers.  She always wore dresses and skirts when they went out, but tonight she’d opted for tailored dress pants with a sparkly deep blue top, which fit snugly around the bust and then flared out loosely over her hips.  Generally not a glass half empty kind of person, nonetheless she’d chosen it deliberately because it was an outfit that made her feel safe and also allowed her to move freely and easily – just in case.

Justin’s lips thinned but he didn’t say anything further.  He escorted her out to his car and opened the passenger door for her.  All very gentlemanly, which normally she would have appreciated, but tonight she was nervous around him, unsure of where she stood.

He took her to her favourite restaurant on the lake, where he’d booked a table by the windows so they could enjoy the view.  Emilia sat quietly while their waiter draped snowy white napkins across their laps and handed them menus and the wine list.

Justin shifted uncomfortably in his seat and kept shooting irritated glances at the waiter, who finally left them to peruse the menu.

‘I know I blew it at the party, Em, and I just wanted to say I’m really sorry and I hope you won’t hold it against me.’  He looked down at the table and seemed so contrite Emilia figured she’d better let him off the hook.  ‘It’s just you keep me dangling with very little to go on.  Surely you must have expected that eventually I’d snap.’

‘You think it was
my
fault?’ she demanded incredulously, her goodwill evaporating.

‘Not exactly.  It’s the sexual tension… it’s driving me crazy.  So you see the way I acted, it was
partly
your fault,’ he concluded, and she could see in his eyes he really believed that.  He was completely incapable of accepting what he’d done was wrong.

‘Wow!’  She stared out the window at the stunning view as the sun began to set over the lake.  She honestly didn’t know what to say to him.  Check that, she knew what she
wanted
to say, but she didn’t want to cause a scene in the restaurant.  She wished she was one of those girls who had a flair for the dramatic and the courage to pull it off.

‘But I really do want to make it up to you and so I thought we could –’

Emilia seethed inwardly and seriously considered getting up and walking out on him.  But then she reminded herself how lucky she was to be with Justin.  He wanted to be with her and it felt good to be wanted.  And while she had no intention of being mauled again, she supposed he did have a point.  Most of the girls her age were sleeping with their boyfriends, but Emilia was a bit old fashioned in that respect.  She wanted to be head over heels in love before she had sex.  And even though she cared a great deal about Justin, there was something holding her back from taking that irrevocable step with him.  She knew her reticence wasn’t easy on him, but for the most part he’d respected her principles.  He seemed to like that she hadn’t slept around, but that was probably because he planned to be her first at some point.

‘You know what?  I really don’t want to talk about this anymore, Justin,’ she said as serenely as possible.

The waiter came and took their orders and Emilia distracted Justin by asking him about his plans for the week.  All through their meal Emilia nodded and smiled in the right places or added the occasional supportive comment while he talked about himself.

‘I was thinking in the next couple of weeks we should take a trip to California and check out Stanford,’ he said enthusiastically at one point.  ‘You know, get a bit of a feel for the town before we move there.’

‘Yeah, about that… I’m not sure I’m going to be –,’ she started to say uneasily.

‘Ian and Brody are going to Stanford too,’ he interrupted.  ‘And Brody’s older brother has been there for a couple of years now, so we should be able to get into some good parties.’

Perhaps she should text Justin the news that she might not be going to Stanford with him; she probably had a better chance of him actually paying attention that way!

Emilia had been planning on choosing an action movie they would both enjoy, but when they arrived at the movie theatre Justin was still talking about everything
they
were going to be doing at Stanford.  So she decided on a little subtle revenge and picked a chick flick she knew he’d hate.  He stopped speaking long enough to give her a pained look.

‘You said I could choose anything I wanted,’ she reminded him, smiling sweetly.

He squared his shoulders and manned up.  ‘You’re right, I did.’

As the movie started he reached for her hand, which was rare for him but went a long way towards mollifying her.  And when he fell asleep against her shoulder halfway through, she couldn’t really blame him.  The plot was weak and the chemistry between the two leads was the only thing that saved it from being a complete dud.

‘Sorry about the movie,’ she said with a sideways glance on the way home.

He smiled ruefully.  ‘Not exactly your best choice ever.’

‘No.  You’re in charge next time.’

He reached over and squeezed her knee.  ‘Which is just the way I like it.’

Emilia rolled her eyes, safe in the concealing darkness.  He brought the car to a stop partway up her driveway and turned to face her, his fingers gently massaging her leg.

‘Is your Dad home tonight?’

‘Yes.’

‘So I guess I shouldn’t come in then?’ he asked hopefully.

Emilia shook her head.  ‘Best not to.  He’s a night owl.’

He sighed.  ‘Okay.’

For all his flaws, Justin was generally a real gentleman; one of his character traits Emilia found particularly endearing.  He came around the front of the car and opened the passenger door for her, before walking her to the front door.

He leaned forward and kissed her gently, his lips warm and soft, nothing like they’d been on Friday night.  ‘I’ll call you tomorrow,’ he whispered.

Emilia nodded and watched him walk back to his car, before she went inside and closed the door behind her.  Overall the evening had been a success, she decided as she prepared for bed.  Justin had been his usual self and a couple of times he’d been quite sweet, not even giving her a hard time about the bad movie choice.  And she’d felt safe, which reassured her that his behaviour at the party had been out of character and wasn’t likely to occur again.  Seb would be pleased.

At the thought of Seb, she remembered how protective he’d been and even though he probably hadn’t spared her a thought all evening, she figured it wouldn’t hurt to let him know she was okay.

She crawled into bed and sent him a quick text:
Home safe and sound.  Justin very well behaved.

Almost immediately she got a reply:
Good

She smiled ruefully.  He was brusque even in his text messages!

Her phone pinged again:
Thank you

Emilia laughed and turned off her bedside lamp.  But the laughter faded as she stared into the darkness.  She had a nagging feeling she’d let herself down tonight.  Around and around in her head she kept hearing Stace and Seb telling her she could do better.  She tried to ignore it, but couldn’t forget she’d let Justin get away with partly blaming her for his actions.  Was she turning into the doormat Stacey had accused her of being?  The thought bothered her, but then she remembered she was lucky to be wanted and pushed the negative thoughts firmly away.  Rolling over, she resolutely closed her eyes.

Chapter 7

Generally an early riser, Emilia spent the morning researching the Regency period of British history.  She’d gone through a faze a couple of years back where she’d immersed herself in all things Jane Austen, so this particular period was close to her heart.  She’d often wondered what it would really be like to live in a time where mothers plotted to catch a rich husband for their daughters and the daughters dreamed of a handsome gentleman sweeping them off their feet on the dance floor.  Now she’d get to witness it first hand.

Late morning, she changed into workout gear and went to the gym for a mixed martial arts class.  Unlike Cardio Box, which was choreographed to a certain extent, this class was much smaller and was all about mastering simple, but effective, boxing and kickboxing combinations.  It required a great deal of strength, fitness and agility – Emilia loved the sense of empowerment it gave her and attended regularly.

After the class she showered quickly and changed into comfortable black yoga pants and a purple halter-neck t-shirt, before stopping off at the bakery to buy fresh multi-grain rolls.

Once again, Seb was waiting in the kitchen when she got home.  Fortunately she’d bought enough rolls to feed him too.

He took in her attire with a swift glance.

‘Hmm, not even a lady-like sheen of perspiration,’ he observed in disgust.  ‘Let me guess – Pilates?’

‘Something like that.’ Emilia smiled sweetly.  It suited her to let him think she was soft and then one day, she was going to drop him straight on his tight little butt.  Then who’d have the last laugh?

‘Figures,’ he muttered.  He was wearing a tight white t-shirt and she couldn’t help but notice the size of his beautifully tanned biceps. Pilates didn’t feature in
his
workout routine, that was for sure.

‘Are you hungry?’ She dropped her workout bag on the floor at the end of the bench and went to raid the fridge. 

‘I’m twenty-one,’ he stated.

Emilia smiled.  ‘Point taken.’

He wandered over to the bench.  ‘Anything I can do to help?’

‘Sure.’  She tossed him a tomato and a capsicum.  ‘
Thinly
sliced please.’

‘Whatever Your Highness wishes.’  He pulled a knife from the block on the bench.  ‘But
only
if I get to wield the biggest blade.’

‘Talk about a tool being way oversized for the task.  Size doesn’t always matter, Seb.’

‘Never let me hear those words pass your lips again, Angel.’  He grinned wickedly.  ‘A big tool is a lot more… adaptable to the terrain it’s working on.’

Emilia watched him clumsily wield the big knife.  The thin slices of tomato she’d been hoping for looked about the size of a meat patty.  ‘Not in your hands, it’s not, Sparky,’ she commented.

His head spun towards her, knife paused in mid-air.  ‘
Sparky?
’ he asked incredulously.

‘It just sort of popped out,’ she said defensively.  She swiftly chopped cucumber, lettuce and spring onions with a
normal
sized knife.  ‘But now that I think about it, I like it.  It kind of suits you.’

‘It does not!’ he grumbled.  ‘You call your dog, Sparky; not a man.’

Emilia pulled apart three rolls and stuffed in sliced turkey, a little grated cheese and the salad fixings.  She passed two to Seb and headed to the sunroom with hers.  ‘I have to put up with you calling me Angel,’ she pointed out over her shoulder.

Seb trailed behind her and dropped into one of the squishy chairs near the French doors.  Emilia settled onto the couch opposite him.  ‘That’s different.  “Angel” is perfect for you.’

‘How so?’

He shrugged casually.  ‘You’re poised, graceful, not to mention delicate and fragile… kind of almost ethereal, I guess.  At least that’s how you felt the other night when I was carrying you.’  He paused while he chewed a mouthful of roll, his forehead creased thoughtfully.  ‘It’s hard to explain but you’re soft and gentle, and you sort of glide through life like you expect it to go your way, which it usually does.’

‘Not always,’ she protested, thinking of her mother.  That certainly hadn’t gone anywhere near her way.

‘Face it, Em.  All you need is wings and you’d be a bone fide Angel.’

‘I don’t know how to feel about that.  You make me sound weak and… unreal.’

Seb shook his head.  ‘That’s not what I meant.  It’s more like you’re… you’re more soft-hearted than most of us,’ he said quietly, his eyes shadowed.

Emilia tilted her head to the side and studied him.  ‘How would you describe yourself, then?’

‘The guy from the wrong side of the tracks,’ he said flatly, his expression closed.  ‘Now, hit me with what you’ve got so far on the nightmare awaiting me.’

She wanted to pursue his comment but the look on his face didn’t encourage further discussion, so she went with the change of subject.  Now they were going to be spending more time together, there would be plenty of opportunities to learn more about him. 

‘Okay, so there are
lots
of rules of how one must conduct oneself during this particular time period, especially when it comes to interactions between unmarried girls and men.  So we have to get our back-story just right.  To be able to appear together we have two options – we can be a newly married young couple or brother and sister.  Personally, I’m favouring the latter as I want to be able to dance with other young men and soak up the whole debutante experience.  That’s going to be a little difficult if I’m married.’

Seb’s lips quirked in a small smile.  ‘That’s fine.  As long as I’m not expected to dance.’

‘The mothers eager to marry their daughters off to a good-looking gentleman will probably expect it…’ his brows slammed together in a dark frown.  ‘But you can probably pull a Mr Darcy and just look down your nose at everybody.  Either that or we can put it about that you’re poor as a church mouse – that should put off the vast majority of mamas keen to make a good match.’

Seb shuddered feelingly.  ‘It sounds like a meat market.’

‘It pretty much was,’ Emilia agreed ruefully.  ‘But it was a very
pretty
and exclusive meat market!’

‘So have you worked out how we’re going to get in?’  He swallowed the last bite of his second roll and dusted off his hands.  Emilia had been talking so much she’d barely made a dent in hers.

‘Sort of.  We’re going to be newly arrived on the boat from America to experience a season in England – that way we don’t have to try and pull off an English accent,’ she explained and it would also help them appear more authentic.  ‘We have distant relatives who have agreed to sponsor us into Society.  I’m still looking for a duke or an earl who was known to have been out of the country with his family during the period we’re going to be there.’

‘Clever,’ Seb approved.

‘We’re also going to need an invitation to get in.’  She waggled her fingers at him.  ‘Are you able to take care of that?’

Seb rolled his eyes at her finger waggle.  ‘I think I can manage that.  If you find me a picture of a particular invitation, I can reproduce it.  Same with the clothes and anything else we might require.’

‘I was wondering about the clothes.’  She brightened as she had another thought.  ‘Can you do things like change hair colour?’

‘Yes,’ he said warily.  ‘Why?’

‘I would love to be a redhead, like Emma Stone used to be,’ she said excitedly.

‘I like your hair the way it is,’ he said awkwardly.  He frowned, like he couldn’t quite believe he’d admitted that.  ‘So I don’t think I’ll be changing it.’

‘Not even for the ball?’ she asked, disappointed.

His eyes slewed away from hers.  ‘Maybe.  I’ll think about it.’

Satisfied he hadn’t completely closed the door on it, her mind darted off in another direction.  ‘Do you use magic to get inside our house all the time?’

‘No!’ he exclaimed in outrage.  ‘David gave me a key about a year ago so I could use his study whenever I need to.’

‘Oh.’  She glanced at him from beneath her lashes.  His jaw was taut and his lips pulled into a thin, unhappy line.  ‘Sorry if I offended you – I don’t mind you being in the house, I was just curious about how you get in.’

His face softened.  ‘I guess I never thought about how you’d feel coming home to a stranger in your house.’

‘You’re not a stranger,’ she said quietly.  ‘And you can come and go whenever you like.’

‘Thanks,’ he said gruffly.

She shrugged.  ‘You’re about the closest thing I’ve got to an older brother, so it’s only fair you get to hang around the house.’

Seb looked startled and a bit perturbed.  ‘Uh, so is there anything else I need to know at the moment?’

‘I don’t think so.  I’ve still got quite a few things to work on, so I guess I’ll continue to research,’ she responded glumly.  But in truth she was quite enjoying learning more about another era, especially knowing in a few days she was actually going to experience it for real.

Seb chuckled at her despondent expression.  ‘When we start going on missions I’ll be helping you with the research, but since you’re torturing me with my worst nightmare, you’re on your own in this one.’

‘Fair enough.’

He rose.  ‘How about we meet again on Wednesday afternoon?’

Emilia walked him to the door and couldn’t help but notice how gracefully he moved, despite his big body.  ‘That’s fine.’

He turned in the doorway.  ‘By then I’ll need to know what you want us to be wearing and all the details will need to be covered off.’

‘No problem.’

‘I’ll text you,’ he called over his shoulder, as he descended the porch steps.

*

By Wednesday morning, Emilia felt she had a handle on all the details of their trip to Regency England.  She had exhausted every relevant book in David’s study and spent hours pouring over the many resources available online.  The previous night she’d gone over the majority of her findings with David to make sure she hadn’t missed anything.  He’d been encouraging and had also pointed her in the direction of another couple of important areas of research, like the name of a ship from the Americas that docked at their time of arrival in London – a vital detail which might have tripped them up if she’d forgotten it.

After forty-eight hours of being cooped up inside, she was going stir-crazy.  So when Seb messaged to say he’d be around in the early afternoon, she text him back to suggest they meet at a café in town.  She needed to get out of the house.

When Justin rang at lunchtime wanting to see her, she agreed to meet him at the same café at four o’clock.  There was nothing like a good bit of time management.

*

When Emilia arrived at the café, Seb was already seated at an outside table, dark shades covering his eyes.  One ankle rested casually on his opposite knee, with what looked like a sketchbook balanced on his legs.  Looking up, he saw her approaching and hastily flipped the book closed, before shoving his glasses up on his head.

‘I’ve ordered coffees,’ he said as she slid onto the chair beside him.  ‘Did you want anything to eat?’

‘No, thanks.’  She breathed in deeply, enjoying the fresh air redolent with the scent of the jasmine plants in the garden behind them.  ‘Ahhh, perfect.  Thanks for meeting me here.  I wilt without the sun.’

He tugged a hank of her hair, which was hanging loosely down her back, fingering the silky strands.  ‘That explains the limp hair.’

‘Hey!’  She jerked away from him, self-consciously patting her hair to see if he was right.

Seb chuckled.  ‘I was teasing, Angel.  You look beautiful… as always.’

‘Uh, thanks,’ she said awkwardly.  That was twice now he’d told her she was beautiful and it was still as disconcerting as the first time.  She pulled a manila folder out of her bag and plonked it on the table.  ‘I’ve printed off some images of how we need to be dressed and also an invitation I found.’

A waiter delivered their coffees and Seb waited until he’d moved onto another table before opening the folder.  He fingered the pages, carefully examining the details, including the notes Emilia had written beside the images regarding fabric types.

‘You’re going to look fantastic,’ he said absently; then he turned to the next page.  He visibly blanched and swore colourfully.  ‘
I’m
going to look bloody ridiculous!’

Emilia bit back a smile, which she knew he wouldn’t appreciate.  ‘Have a little faith, Sparky.  You’ve got the height and the broad shoulders to really pull this off.’

Seb glowered darkly at her, whether because he didn’t agree or because she’d used her new nickname for him, she didn’t know.  He flicked hurriedly past the rest of the costume pages until he reached the page she’d printed off of an elaborate invitation she’d found on the Internet.

He studied it carefully.  ‘Shouldn’t be too difficult to reproduce.’

‘This was a real invitation to the weekend festivities put on by the Duke and Duchess of Ulbrey, to celebrate the betrothal of their eldest son, the Marquis of Dunbridge.  It was
the
event of the 1811 Season and these invitations were highly coveted.’