Glimpse Time Travel: Enemy Of Mine Part 5

It was while Will slowly strode by a window, reflecting her eighteenth-century image, that Erva realized why she'd gone crazy. She looked the part of a lady, like her mother had always wanted her to be. But it had been a beige h.e.l.l to live in-no colors, no fun, nothing real. Yet, when she looked at her reflection, saw her brown eyes shine out defiantly, and the man holding her looking all the prouder for it, her heart stuttered and fizzled sparkly energy throughout her limbs. She'd always wanted him, wanted a man who would want her just for being herself. She didn't have to earn his admiration. She didn't have to work hard to get his attention. She just was. And if felt freaking fantastic.

Something in her finally felt in place, as if a cog decisively fit, and she was operating the way she had been designed. She turned to Will, forcing him to release her, but he only adjusted his grip on her hands, still trying to hold her up. Oh G.o.d, he was good for her ego.

She didn't know how to convey what she wanted. The emotions filling her felt too big for words. The only thing she could say was a breathy, "Thank you."

He smiled down at her and shrugged. "It is nothing. I don't mind."

He probably a.s.sumed she was appreciative of the way he walked slowly with her, but it was so much more. She felt at that second...alive. Real. She wondered if she glowed from the realization.

Will had guided her into a library where four redcoated men bickered about the weather. She was distracted by a leather bound volume that looked as if it had something to do with inheritance law. G.o.d, it would be heaven to read that. Throw it against a wall when she got to the laws regarding women, but still, it was a wealth of information. All the books were.

As was the man before her.

She shook her head, wanting to express more, but couldn't think of the words needed. "Thank you," she repeated.

He silently chuckled. "Of course."

He wouldn't understand anyway that he'd broken free something that had been stuck within her for twenty years. So she did the only thing she could think to express her appreciation. Reaching up on her toes, she pecked his cheek.

She really, really didn't mean to linger. But she did. He smelled so d.a.m.ned good. Yes, men smelled pleasant, but there was something about Will's scent that drove her nuts. Maybe it was the clean smell mixed with the outdoors. It didn't matter, because whatever it was, was getting the better of her, getting to her inhibitions. She wanted to kiss him. On the lips.

"I tell you, there are tornadoes that reach up to Nova Scotia on this continent," a man yelled.

Odd argument to have, but it snapped Erva back to her slippered feet. She glanced up at Will. His eyes...o...b..ted into a stratosphere of blue she'd only seen in NASA pictures. His face was tight, but he slowly smiled.

"If that is the reward for walking slowly, then shall we take a turn even leisurelier?"

She giggled.

His smile widened. "How is your knee?"

"Better."

He frowned. "I'd hoped it would worsen, so we might leave soon."

She almost giggled again, but the voice that had been shouting about tornadoes, suddenly yelled, "Oh, there, General Hill! I didn't even notice you there, in the corner with your...friend."

Will's nostrils flared, but he plastered a fake smile into place and turned to the young man calling for him. He bowed low as the man advanced.

"Major Brighton, how nice to see you," Will said as he straightened.

The young man reciprocated a bow, then reached for Will's hand in an enthusiastic shake. Oh, Erva knew who this was. Well, in two more years, he'd turn into the Duke of Suffolk. For now he was a nineteen year-old that Erva had guessed his superiors put up with because of his high social rank. The gossip about this man was not just rumors. She'd read how he'd seen several doctors regarding catching syphilis while in America. His stint here would be short because of the venereal disease.

Something about knowing that, knowing he was not just a rake, but would later become infamous for his s.e.xually transmitted disease, made Erva take a step back, landing against Will's chest.

"And who is your friend, General?"

"This is my guest, Lady Ferguson," Will said stiffly.

The young man bowed, which reminded Erva to curtsy, but it hurt, and she wobbled even more into Will who caught her by her arm.

"Lady Ferguson," Major Brighton said, "are you all right? Has she had a bit of punch to drink?"

"No," Will growled.

"I'm fine." Erva tried to right herself, but Will wouldn't let go. "I-" she laughed, "-I hurt my knee earlier. But I'm fine."

The Major raised his blond brows a few times. "How did you hurt your knee? Is this a wicked story?"

"My carriage's axel broke while at a good cantor, and she fell on the floor. Nothing wicked about that." Will's voice lowered even more, and his aggravation was palpable. He pulled on her arm, forcing her closer, even when there was no more room for that. Major Brighton didn't seem to notice though.

He chuckled. "Of course."

Erva, wanting to calm Will, because she could tell he was about to snap, tried to reach behind to touch him, sooth him. Instead, she brushed against his thigh. The very top of his thigh.

Will sipped in a sharp breath.

Oh h.e.l.l, that had been really close to what lay between his thighs. Erva felt her cheeks turn pink-hot. She swallowed, trying to pretend she hadn't done anything, trying even harder to pretend her body hadn't suddenly ignited. Her nipples contracted. Hard. The apex of her legs felt like instant liquid. She held her breath.

Again, Major Brighton didn't take heed of any of it. "Lady Ferguson, has the General convinced you to part with your money or your men?"

Erva tried very hard to pay attention. "Pardon?" she asked, taking a line from Will.

"Oh, you know," the Major said, "to help with the war. For G.o.d, king, and country, yes?"

Erva was still confused, but so glad for it. The distraction helped to get her wits about her again.

"He's referring to the fact," Will said, his voice lower than ever and seemed to bounce down her spine, "that we officers attend many of these banquets, because we must ask for more recruits or more money from the loyalists."

Well, that had been as effective as if Will had doused her with cold water. He considered her a loyalist. Erva glanced around the library where more people spilled through the open doorways, talking, laughing, and drinking. They all probably thought she was a loyalist, and most of the people here doubtless were.

Of course being an American, the history of the revolution had been handed down to her in a neat package, tidy with patriotic forefathers and grand ideas. As an academic the revolution, she had come to learn, was nowhere near as sanitary as what she had been told. There were complications on top of complications. Often, it would make her prouder of the fact that she was an American. But sometimes she would anguish, especially at the use of the patriots calling the revolution a movement against feeling like slaves, when so many owned them. It was a hypocrisy that burned at her heart. Still, after reading Thomas Paine's essays, she was honored to call herself an American.

So what could she be now? In 1776? Short months after the Declaration of Independence was signed?

Quiet. That's what she could be.

They didn't need to know she had no loyalties to a king who would lose his mind in a few years' time. She batted her lashes, as her mother had taught her to, and forced a smile into place. Maybe something good would come out of all the years of her mother's pushing Erva to smile when she didn't want to. Right now, she was charming the socks off Major Brighton, and she hadn't even said a word.

"Major Brighton, as always it's been a remarkable time with you," Will said. "But you'll have to excuse us, since I promised The General an introduction to Lady Ferguson."

Will wrapped his arm around Erva's waist. In one move, she no longer felt the ground under her feet. He was carrying her in his one arm.

"Oh!" the Major bellowed. "Yes, I understand completely why General Howe wants to meet her. She's quite the beauty."

Will made a quiet growling noise as he rushed Erva from the library to a wide, luxuriously decorated parlor with burgundy molded walls and white marble floors, where more people sat or stood, and everyone had a gla.s.s of something to drink. Except for Will and herself, Erva observed. Had the accounts been wholly wrong about him being a lush?

He placed her back on solid ground with a slight huff.

"Sorry," she whispered. She was in awe he'd lifted her with only one arm. "I know I'm heavy."

He shook his head. "No, you're not. I'm just-I'm just angry he would talk so. If the man weren't going to be a duke, I'd break his jaw. Then he'd ask me for a duel. And the man has terrible aim. I'd have to kill him, and I just don't know whether I could live with myself after that, although the world might be a better place for it."

Noiselessly, Erva chuckled at Will's sarcasm. "You're quite funny."

Will glanced down at her, appearing as though he was holding back from grinning at the compliment. "You're not heavy." He repeated from before. Next he said softly, "I could carry you around all day and night."

Erva's b.r.e.a.s.t.s felt too heavy, begging for Will to touch them.

Oh my G.o.d, the man was getting to her.

"Lady Ferguson, Lady Ferguson, play us a song, play us a song."

It took a beat for Erva to realize that the small choral of too sweet voices was talking to her. She turned to Miss Winny and her two friends as they approached with their repeating whine. Winny grasped her hand and pulled her away from Will.

"Yes, you must. I've heard you're quite the musician."

Erva limped after the young, pretty girl, but looked over her shoulder at Will. His black brows furrowed, and he took a step closer.

"Oh, I do love music from a young lady," an older woman said as she fanned herself. "Who is this lovely creature?"

Winny pulled Erva toward the elderly lady and answered. "This is another lady, Lady Anne. Can you believe the English n.o.bility here in America?"

"Lady Ferguson?" Lady Anne asked. "Oh, yes! I think I know your mother."

Erva held in a giggle. "You might. You just might."

Lady Anne smiled widely and pulled Erva closer to inspect. "My, aren't you the rose of the party?"

At that Winny released her grip on Erva and frowned.

"I was just asking Lady Ferguson to play something for us," Winny droned.

"Oh, yes! Will you, my lady?" Lady Anne asked. "I'd like to hear something romantic, something utterly not military, since I seem to be surrounded by military men. Not that I mind. I've got a touch of red fever myself." She laughed.

Erva giggled too. She admired how the elderly woman was basically saying she was as enthusiastic about the soldiers around her as teenage girls in her time would be around Justin Beiber.

"Oh, but I want something utterly romantic to hear, please, Lady Ferguson?" Lady Anne asked again.

If it weren't for Lady Anne, Erva would have slapped Winny. Hey, this was her hallucination, was it not? She could smack the snarky girl for trying to force her to sing a song, right? But Lady Anne was the antidote to Erva's anger.

She glanced again at Will. He didn't smile. He looked beyond worried. He hadn't stepped very close after Winny had pulled her away from him, but he looked...well, he looked terrified. Odd, Erva thought.

She gave him a rea.s.suring smile and tried to walk, not limp, to the pianoforte. This was her illusion. And, yes, her mother had forced Erva to have piano and singing lessons, because no young lady should grow up without them, she'd been told with a shake of the finger. Erva had learned Italian through the songs she'd had to memorize, which had been beneficial. Then she'd studied German. All the while she'd secretly tried to learn music that she liked, music that resonated within her dark soul. That was what she would play for him, for all of them. Music of her age, yes, but with only piano to accompany it, it would sound far older.

When Winny forced her onto the bench with a ruthless giggle, Erva didn't feel threatened. She didn't feel much other than her heart pinged when she looked at Will again. He swallowed. His face drained of color. Was he scared for her?

He was such a sweet man. While thinking of him, of his death in just a few days, and her stupid body wanting him, and even worse, her heart beginning to care for him, she thought of a song. The perfect song for Will.

Chapter 7.

It was too reminiscent of another time. Will panicked while thinking of his past. He had to do something, yet he felt dreadfully paralyzed with fear. Erva sat gracefully at the piano, staring at the keys for a moment. Yes, he had to rescue her. This had happened before to his lovely but delicate wife, Julia. Some vicious brat of a girl had forced her to sing a song. Not thinking anything of it, he had merely waited for her to dazzle him, as had the mob of people surrounding Julia. He hadn't known how frightful she could become of crowds, how timid, how paranoid, nor did he have a clue of the damage it would cause to his wife's fragile mind.

d.a.m.nation, he wouldn't stand idly by this time!

But before he could think of a distraction, Erva began to sing. Her voice was calm, steady, and thoroughly exquisite. After a few lines, Erva plucked the piano to accompany her elegant yet haunting song. The tune floated through many notes, always ending on a slightly sad tone. It was about a woman scared for a man, the man was her friend, and he had done something to enthrall a crowd, but the woman was nonetheless worried. Then the woman confessed how she felt about her friend. She loved him.

Will swallowed as Erva's flowing voice turned breakable, but not as his Julia's had. This was vulnerability for the song, the lyrics. Erva's voice reflected the sadness and fright of the words she sang. Not because she was forced to perform.

He'd never heard a more tender song. It reminded him of the dark ages, of medieval knights, of wanting to live in another time far from now. How Erva reminded of times of yore. How he wanted to be a knight for her. n.o.ble and strong. How he hoped she was singing about him and no other.

One day with the woman and he was utterly smitten.

He hadn't felt this way since...Julia.

No, as much as he'd been infatuated with his wife, this was different. He'd been so young when he'd met Julia, not necessarily thinking of mutual compatibilities, but attracted to her charismatic charms that only he was privy to. With Erva though, there was no need to protect her from the crowd. They hushed and watched reverently as she performed her haunting song. Lady Anne cried, and she wasn't the only one. People began to silently draw closer to Erva. Even perverted Major Brighton had come into the room and watched Erva with mouth ajar.

The song twisted into a piano solo for a couple minutes, and Will watched fascinated as Erva's body slightly rocked back and forth to the rhythm. Her lithe form, although he guessed she wasn't trying to be a seductress, cast the last of the die. He wanted her. He wanted her badly. His body felt tight, his solar plexus exploded with...desire. His groin contracted, yet what humbled him the most was how his heart ached.

She closed her eyes as she sang even louder, more confident, yet heartbreakingly sad. She sang that she worried she was not the one for her love. By G.o.d, but she was. It had been ten years since Julia's bitter death, and he'd a.s.sumed he'd never feel anything ever again. Her pa.s.sing had been too much. It had broken his heart and soul. But he could have sworn he saw from the corner of his eye, his wife's ghostly form reflected in a window, smiling at him, pointing at the strong woman behind the pianoforte. Only, when he checked the gla.s.s, there was nothing but reflected candlelight flickering.

Lord, his eyes stung with the thought that his wife wished him to watch Erva, to revel in her as the crowd around him was. He blinked and cleared his too tight throat. He'd forever love Julia, but couldn't help wonder if she had a hand in placing Erva before him.

Erva finished the song on an unforgettable note-sad, poignant, strong, and n.o.ble. The odd thought skittered through his mind that she was rescuing him. Erva was the knight. Her tactics had been effortless, but had pierced the dragon he'd carried with him for years. It might not be enough to kill the beast within, but it was a start he'd never seen coming. He'd had visions of dying soon, still heartbroken, still alone.

But now...

The crowd cheered as if Erva were the reputed prodigy Mozart himself. She stood slowly from the piano, curtsied, while blushing and smiling. The throng pushed toward her, enthusiastically talking. Through them, through her slow gait, she made her way back to him. He was so overcome, he couldn't say anything for several seconds. Holding her hands, he felt so proud of her.

"Beautiful," he could only whisper.

"Indeed," a quiet yet authoritative voice from the crowd concurred. Will turned to see his commander in chief, General William Howe, nearby.

Will bowed as did The General.

"Is this the Lady Ferguson I've heard so much about?" General Howe smiled at Erva.

She curtsied and offered her hand, then The General kissed her knuckles. Will was fairly certain the man lingered in his hold of her hand. Possessively, Will placed an arm around Erva's waist, thought briefly of social protocol, but then decided to be a beast and hold her as close as she'd let him. General Howe, as always the clever man, glanced from him to Erva with an all too knowing smile and released her.

"How on earth have you heard of me, General Howe?" Erva asked, a tad too excitedly for Will's heart to take.

General Howe gave a small smile. "Through General Hill's own men. The whole town is abuzz about the lady who shot faster than many of my own soldiers. I'll have to recruit you if you aren't careful."