Whispers from the Past (35 page)

His body shuddered beneath my hand. He understood the consequences, too.

“Miss Pratt, did you see Mr. Lewis on the day that his wife left your father’s employ?”

“Yes, I did. He and Susanna were in the woods near the edge of our yard.”

“What were they doing?”

“Talking.”

“They were not moving.”

“No.” She shook her head firmly. “I believe Mr. Lewis had just cut through her shackles.”

“Did you speak to them?”

“I asked Susanna what she was doing. She said she had to leave. She was not well and required the care of a physician.”

“Did she ask you to hide this decision?”

“Quite the opposite. She encouraged me to run immediately to the village and let my papa know.”

“Is that what you did?”

“Yes, but I was not the one to tell him. Deborah runs faster, so she told him instead.”

Mr. Pratt positioned himself directly before his daughter, hands on hips. “Did you see Mr. Lewis help Susanna run away?”

Her chin lifted. “I did not.”

I could not see his face, but the anger that rippled through his tall frame was clear to all present.

“Dorcas, tell the truth,” he said in the kind of voice that a father uses with a small child. “You witnessed Mr. Lewis aiding a runaway.”

“No, Papa. You are mistaken.” She turned away from his scrutiny to level her gaze on me. Her face retained its calm, almost amused expression. “I saw him cut off her shackles. It quite pleased me. I would have done so myself if I had been able. However, I did not see him help her run away.”

“I think we have heard enough,” Judge Reynolds said, clapping a hand on Mark’s shoulder. “There is no evidence of a crime here. He may be released.”

Mark staggered to his feet. I instantly slipped a hand into the crook of his arm and pressed into his body, steadying him.

Mr. Pratt moved into a wide, belligerent stance. “What of Mr. Lewis’s previous charge?”

The judge frowned. “What is that?”

“He owes a fine. If he cannot pay, he must be flogged.”

Mark wavered on his feet. I fought the urge to wrap him in my arms.

“What was the charge?” the judge asked.

Mark said, “I was fined for asking my wife about her health.”

Mr. Pratt scowled. “He did not have permission to trespass on my property.”

“Who gave this punishment?” the judge bit out.

We looked at Mr. Worth. His lips pursed, but he said nothing.

The judge eyed him with contempt. “Truly, sir? You sentenced a man for inquiring about another person’s health?”

Mr. Worth sneered. “He was trying to help her run away.”

“You determined yourself that she had not.” Judge Reynolds shook his head. “Mr. Worth, if you describe this judgment before the next session of court, you will become a laughingstock. Do you not wish to rescind?”

“Indeed,” Mr. Worth croaked, his bravado crumbling.

The judge gave a sharp nod. “Mr. Lewis, you are free to go.”

And with that one simple statement, the ordeal was over.

My brother left for Worthville soon thereafter, our profound gratitude ringing in his ears. Dorcas and Dr. Eton rode in a carriage sent by Mrs. Whitcomb, but Mark refused the offer, saying he preferred to walk.

We plodded across Union Square, arms linked. There would come a moment later in the day when the realization of what had almost happened would assail me. I would shake with reaction. Perhaps even cry. But for now, the joy of being in his presence held the painful feelings at bay.

“Did Mr. Pratt hurt you, Mark?”

A nod and a wince. “I was tied up in this nasty shack. Pratt managed to get past the guard. He punched me in the face and got in a couple of good kicks. Then Caleb showed up and pulled Pratt off of me. That part was fun to watch.” Mark snorted. “Remind me to never piss off your brother. He’s out to win.”

Once we reached my mistress’s home, and with her permission, I would spend the remainder of the day tending to his injuries. I was sorry this had happened. Caring for Mark, however, would be a joy.

As we rounded a corner, his steps slowed and then stopped. He looked in all directions and then nudged me into the shadows of the State House.

There was no more warning than that. Mark leaned against the brick building and wrapped me in his arms.

His gaze swept my face for a long moment. Then he lowered his lips to mine.

I sighed at the glorious taste of him. His mouth moved on mine with insistence. A wondrous kiss. It unlocked a hunger in me for more.

We had been apart too long. Weeks. Forever. I broke this kiss and pressed my lips to his jaw. “You found me,” I whispered as I trailed kisses down his neck.

“Did you doubt that for a second?” He pressed my chin up and continued his exploration of my mouth.

“Mark.” I smiled against his lips. “If someone walks this way, we will be seen.”

“Don’t care.” He pulled my cap off, dropped it to the ground, and laced his fingers through my hair, scattering the pins.

I laughed. “Truly, I cannot go about like this.”

“Men haven’t changed that much over the centuries. There isn’t a guy in the whole state who’s surprised that I’m touching you.”

I sighed and reached for him, resting my hands on his chest.

He gasped, moaned, and sagged into the wall.

“What did I do, Mark? Have I hurt you? Is it your ribs?”

He nodded, closing his eyes. “Just give me a moment.” When I tried to step away, though, he grasped my waist. “Don’t go, babe.”

I stood straight and still, waiting for him to recover. His breathing slowed, his smile returned, and soon I was back in the loose embrace of his arms.

“Where were we headed, by the way?” he asked.

“The home of Mrs. Whitcomb. She is Mrs. Eton’s sister. She has offered you a place to spend the night.”

He pushed away from the wall. “How far to her house?”

“Three blocks.” After twisting my hair into a semblance of modesty and replacing my cap, I linked my arm through his again. We left our place in the shadows to resume our slow, steady pace across the square.

People passed by, some staring, some smiling, a few even tipping their hats.

He gave a little laugh. “Does everyone think we’re married?”

I nodded. “Everyone who knows of me.”

“Why?”

“Because we have said so. You claimed me before Phoebe, Jedidiah, and my brother. I have claimed you as well.”

“That’s all it takes?”

“It is accepted.” I waited until we had crossed the lane to continue. “If we were from an upper-class family, it would be preferred that we post banns or acquire a license, but it is not a requirement. A marriage can be valid simply by saying and behaving as if it were so.”

I led him through the gate into Mrs. Whitcomb’s garden and headed for a maze near the back with its bench hidden from curious eyes. I helped him ease onto it.

He pulled me down beside him. “You are really Mrs. Lewis here?” he murmured, his face grave.

I nodded, unable to speak.

He lifted my hand and pressed a kiss to my fingers. “Fine with me.”

Several moments passed as we sat there, each drinking in the sight of the other. At last, he sighed heavily. “Why did you return to old Raleigh?”

“I had to rescue Dorcas.”

“You messed with history.”

It was a terrible risk, for me and now for him. I had broken a promise, but it made no sense to waste my thoughts on regret. “I would do it again if her life and happiness were at stake.”

“Susanna.” He shook his head. “You put yourself in danger.”

“I did.” I did not care to have this discussion in the garden, where our voices might rise in anger and provoke questions we could not answer. But neither did I wish to hold it inside. “You are angry with me.”

“Yes, dammit. What were you thinking?”

“I shall not apologize for my actions. Dorcas is safe, she will be married, and my name has been cleared. I cannot fault these outcomes.”

He frowned. “You don’t have to worry about Pratt? Ever again?”

I nodded. “My indenture has been reassigned to Mrs. Whitcomb.”

“For how long?”

“Mrs. Whitcomb has agreed to release me by June first.”

“How likely is it that she would let you go now?”

“Quite likely.” I would not, however, ask this favor of her. Until the threat of the tornado was past, I had to stay here. Before I could return to the future with a clear and easy conscience, I must complete my indenture and see Dorcas safe from harm. Yet I would not share these plans with Mark. I did not wish to spoil our precious day together.

“Great.” With a grunt of pain, he hauled me onto his lap and buried his face against my neck. “I’ve missed you, Susanna. So much.”

“I’ve missed you.”

“Can you even understand what it’s been like? The
not knowing
was awful.” He shuddered with remembered fear.

I lifted a light hand to his cheek and tried to shush the broken ramblings that tugged at my heart, but he would not stop.

“You planned this carefully.” He stared at me fiercely. “You wanted to fool us.”

“There was no other way.” His accusation burned uncomfortably within me. I felt no pride at my capacity to deceive. “An unannounced departure seemed best.”

“Best for you.” His gaze dropped to my mouth, to my eyes, and back again to my mouth. With a groan, he lowered his head and kissed me with a passion that left me gasping for breath. Gasping for more.

“I love you, Susanna,” he said, punctuating the statement with a tiny kiss. “Don’t ever put me through that again.”

“I love you too, Mark.” I said, humbled by the maddeningly sweet knowledge that he had risked much in his world and mine to find me. “There is nothing left to fear.”

C
HAPTER
F
ORTY
-T
WO

S
TILL
P
RETTY
H
OT

All throughout the evening, I had to watch Susanna and follow her lead. The rules were confusing. So I went where she led, ate when she nodded, and answered only when someone directed a specific question to me.

Susanna seemed calm, so I must not have screwed things up too much.

“Mr. Lewis?” Mrs. Whitcomb asked, her eyebrow arching politely.

“Yes, ma’am?” Beside me, Susanna stiffened.

“It has been a most enjoyable evening. However, I suspect you are ready to retire.”

What should I say?
Hell, yeah
was probably not appropriate. “Thank you, and thank you for the meal.”

Susanna gave a tiny nod.

When Mrs. Whitcomb stood, Susanna tapped my thigh under the table. I stood, too. It was only after the older lady had left the room that I looked down at Susanna. “What’s next?”

“We’ll go to your room.”

“
My
room?” I frowned. “It’s not yours, too?”

“Not under normal circumstances, but I shall share it with you tonight. It is the proper way to provide hospitality to a man and his wife.”

I followed her up the stairs and down a dim hallway. She hesitated before a door that stood ajar. When we entered the room, a maid looked up from a weirdly shaped metal tub, where she was pouring a kettle of steaming water. With a bob of her head, she set the kettle on a nearby hearth and then scurried from the room.

“What’s that?” I asked as I shut the door behind the maid.

“A hip bath.” Susanna stacked some white sheets on a chair by the tub and then tested the water. “Mrs. Whitcomb expects that you would wish to bathe before retiring.”

“She’s right, I would, although that thing doesn’t look very comfortable.”

“It will have to do. Perhaps you would like to proceed. The water won’t stay warm for long.”

I dropped onto a chair and tugged off my shoes. “Where will you be?”

“Here. I shall see to your wounds.” She blushed. “Dr. Eton told me to be especially tender with your chest, for he believes that two of your ribs are cracked.”

She would watch me take a bath? Goose bumps prickled along my skin as I pulled the shirt over my head. Her gaze skittered away when I undid the flap of the trousers and slid them off. She stared out the window, not moving, until I had eased into the tub. The water was still pretty hot.

She grabbed a cloth from a nearby table and then knelt at my side, her attention directed at the scrapes on my neck and shoulders.

“Are they painful?”

“Not much.”

She dipped the cloth in the bath water, wrung it out, and dabbed at a cut on my neck, her forehead creased with concentration.

This was seriously strange. In this world, she was a servant—and she was
serving
me. I didn’t want it. It was unnatural, yet she didn’t seem to notice that she’d just fallen into that role.

“Babe.” I reached out and cupped her cheek. “You don’t have to do this.”

Her gaze met mine. “I want to care for you, Mark. Truly.” She leaned in until her lips brushed mine.

That wasn’t enough. I could barely contain a moan as I slipped both hands into her hair and assaulted her mouth with kisses. When her fingers splayed across my wet chest, I hissed in pain.

She jerked back. “I am sorry.”

“It’s okay.” I took a deep breath and looked away. She resumed her gentle cleansing of my injuries, her attention focused on the part of me above the water. Which was a good thing.