Wild About The Witch Part 7

"A portal," Evie breathed, feeling weak at the word and what it might mean. "You walk into it and go to another time?" She grabbed Sam's hand and he looked concerned she might fall over. "I wonder if it's still there, if I poked around the inn ..."

"Don't you dare," Sam warned. "With your luck it would work and I'd never see you again."

His tone was light, but the heavy hand on her wrist told her he was deadly serious. She shivered, wondering how many people might have slipped into these odd portals like the unlucky Miss Burnet.

"I think it's trickier than just poking around," Catie said. "He stayed with me to help me get a rail ticket, but said something about having to spend a fortnight in 1875 to do it."

"b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l," Sam said. "Who is this bloke? A time traveling crime fighter?"

"More like time traveling bonehead," Evie said, still bitter that the man hadn't helped her rescue Piper. "He lost one woman in time, then brought the wrong one back when he didn't even remember what she looked like."

Catie giggled. "Well, we both have blonde hair," she said.

Evie sighed and got back to the list. "So far there's spells and portals. We used to think it was only the castle grounds, but it clearly works in London. Where were you again?"

"Belmary House. It's a grand house that still stands, but it's all closed up now."

Evie got on her phone and looked up Belmary House with shaking hands. It took two tries to type it in correctly and several old news items popped up. "Oh my gosh, an actress went missing there a few months ago." She looked at Catie, who stopped in her tracks.

"Elizabeth Burnet?" Catie asked, going pale.

"The very same."

The doorbell rang and Catie jumped, quickly handing Magnus over to Evie. "Ah, that'll be for me, sorry."

"How does anyone know you're here?" Evie asked incredulously.

Catie looked guilty and held up her phone. "I used the texting, if that's all right with ye? Shane's going to take me to lunch since he has the day off."

Evie marveled at how easily she picked up the technology of the day.

"Shane Brodie?" Sam stood up and glared in the direction of the front door.

"It's okay, he works at the estate," Evie told him, suppressing a smile at his protective nature.

"Aye, I know the lad, Evelyn. That's why I'm concerned." He turned to Catie. "Isn't he a bit old for you?"

"He's only two years older than me. I was about to be betrothed in my own time. I think going to lunch willna ruin me."

Evie clapped her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing at Sam's face after Catie's teenagerly retort. She'd never seen him go quite so red. He opened his mouth to say something more but Catie was already heading for the door, tossing her hair over her shoulder. She swung it open, her face turned radiantly pretty by the first smile Evie had seen on her.

The tall redhaired boy Evie sometimes saw around the estate waved at them and took Catie by the hand, leading her to his beat up old car. As soon as the front door closed, Evie and Sam raced down the hall, pressing their noses to the window to watch them drive toward the village.

"Is this okay? Should we have let her go?" Evie asked.

"Certainly she's old enough to make her own decisions," Sam said, nervously adding, "Isn't she?"

"I don't know," Evie wailed, pacing down the hall to the living room.

Sam followed, settling Magnus in his bouncy seat. He sank onto the comfy sofa and pulled her down next to him. Evie rested her head against his shoulder.

"So now we have a teenager living with us," Sam said. "How did that happen again?"

"She seemed so upset over there, and you know how I get when I'm pregnant."

"Aye, you're always pregnant these days," he teased, resting his hand on her still flat belly.

She sighed and covered his hand with her own. "Yes, how did this happen again, actually?" she mused.

He laughed. "Well, if you can't recall, perhaps I'm doing something wrong."

"You do all right," she told him, snuggling closer and making faces at Mags. "Having Catie around will be good practice for the future. Mags will always be an angel, I'm sure of it. But this second one will probably be our little demon child. Second children are notorious bad seeds."

He flicked her forehead, then dropped a kiss in the spot. "That's not cool. You know I'm second born, and I've never caused any trouble."

They sat watching Magnus gum the toys attached to his bouncer. She began to have second thoughts about the wisdom of inviting Catie to stay, and letting her leave with Shane didn't seem the best idea, either.

"Maybe we shouldn't have let her go with Shane," she said.

"How could we have stopped her?" he asked. "I'm sure it'll be fine. Fairly sure."

"Should we call Lachlan?"

Sam swallowed hard. "No," he said. "I don't think we should call Lachlan. I'm not overly fond of that kid. but I don't want to see his neck get broken."

Chapter 9.

Things looked brighter for Lizzie the next day. For one, it was literally a bright, sunny day outside, something she hadn't seen since they crossed the Scottish border almost a week earlier. After going to bed the night before heartsick and ashamed at Quinn dismissing her like she was little more than a booty call, she spent the morning in her borrowed gown, looking out her bed chamber window and forming a plan.

Of course, she had been silly to think one little moment (or big moment- she got distracted for a while remembering every delicious detail) of pa.s.sion would make Quinn forget her betrayal.

He didn't know she'd changed, that she'd fully decided the only life she wanted was one that included him. And he wasn't the sort of simpleton who would be fooled by s.e.x, either. She had to show him by other means that she loved him.

She sighed heavily and rested her head against the window pane. She did love him. During the frantic trip up here she'd been distracted with worry about their impending death at the hands of Solomon Wodge, but now that they were relatively safe, she knew nothing had changed.

Her fingers were sore from sewing up her torn dress, and it was nowhere near finished, but she'd refused the help of a maid, wanting to improve all the skills she would need to continue living in this time. Or Quinn's time, which was still technically in the past. How they had managed to jump only seven years forward, she didn't know, but it probably had to do with Oliver's lack of witchcraft skill and haste in casting the spell.

Oliver! Oh, goodness, she'd completely forgotten him. She jumped up, done mooning for the moment, her determination to win back Quinn's love and trust fully cemented, even if she didn't have a rock solid plan yet.

In the hallway, she looked left and right, not sure where Oliver would have ended up. She prayed they were nice to him last night. She knocked lightly on the door where Bella said she could be found and a girl opened it, her face flushed. She let Lizzie in, and Lizzie saw Bella looking even more frazzled than the maid.

"Come in," Bella said, rocking a toddler who was limp and sweaty. A moment later the boy let out a terrifying cough that wracked his little body, then he fell back into his mother's arms, screaming inconsolably as if he was in great pain. After the spasm pa.s.sed, Bella wiped away tears and looked at Lizzie. "This is Callum. He's been coughing all night, and burning with fever. It came on fast, and doesna want to break."

Lizzie took a step closer and placed the back of her hand on the boy's clammy forehead, pulling it away rapidly. That was what a fever felt like, and Lizzie felt a p.r.i.c.kle of fear for the baby.

"My husband is from your time, or thereabouts," Bella said, laying Callum on the bed and smoothing the damp strands of hair from his brow. "He has great faith in the medicine of your time. Ye dinna know anything about it, do ye?" she asked hopefully.

Lizzie shook her head. "No, I'm sorry. It could be pneumonia or bronchitis?"

She thought of something from a television show she'd seen when she was young and pulled up the light muslin shirt the baby wore. His belly and chest had a red, splotchy rash on it and her stomach lurched. Bella looked at the rash and gasped.

"That's new," she said, her voice cracking.

She told the maid to run for the physician as fast as she could, and the maid collided with Quinn on her way out the door. She squeaked past him, skidding in the hallway in her hurry.

"Pietro told me ye'd be with the lad," he said, looking straight past Lizzie to Bella. "Is he no better?"

"I fear he's worse," Bella said. "Please, can ye fetch Pietro for me. The physician will be up soon."

"I'll go with you," Lizzie said, following Quinn to the door, with an apologetic glance at Bella. "I have to find Oliver."

"The lovely English lad?" Bella asked. "I popped out for a trice earlier to grab a bite of breakfast and saw him in the dining hall."

Quinn walked fast and she had to trot to keep up with his long legs. He looked down at her when she reached his side and smiled quickly before looking away again. So, it was going to be like that? Fine. She took a silent deep breath, and grabbed his arm.

"I think Callum might be really ill," she said. "Something dangerous in this time."

He stopped and gave her his full attention. "What?"

"Well, of course I'm not sure, but I think the doctor will confirm it's scarlet fever."

He paled, then shook his head. "Ye say dangerous in this time. It isna dangerous in yours?"

"Well, I suppose it can be if it's left untreated," she said with a shrug. "But not usually. Not really."

He groaned, and rolled his shoulder. "We must pray ye're wrong and he doesna have it," he said, holding his elbow with his other hand.

"Oh, it's very likely I'm wrong," she a.s.sured him, hoping she was. "I only remember the symptoms from an old program on the telly." He looked at her blankly and she waved it off, reaching to pull aside his shirt to check his bandage. "Has anyone looked at this yet for you?"

He took a step away from her, eyes widening. "No, but it's fine. I checked it myself. Ah, in the mirror."

"Don't be daft, Quinn. Let me look at it."

She rested her hand on his shirt, feeling the electric rush of desire just from touching fabric that touched his body. She was a mess. When she looked at his face, she saw his eyes were shuttered and cold.

"The bandage can wait. I must find Pietro, and ye should find Oliver. We're going to try again today."

"Quinn, that's madness. You need to rest."

She spoke to his back. He was already halfway down the hall and turning to go downstairs. Her determination faltered when a tiny voice inside her whispered that maybe he was truly done with her. Maybe last night had meant less than nothing to him, and there was nothing she could do to convince him she loved him, because he no longer loved her. If that was the case, there was no reason to wait any longer to try the spell again.

Stiffening her spine, she told her self-defeating voice to stuff itself.

"Miss Bur- I mean, Lizzie." Oliver turned the corner from the stairwell. "I was looking for you, and Quinn said I might find you up here."

"h.e.l.lo, Oliver," she said, patting some color back into her cheeks. "Are they treating you well?"

He shook off her question to dive right into the heart of their problem. "Quinn said we're to try again today? Are they giving him quant.i.ties of whiskey as a painkiller?"

Lizzie laughed despite her self-pitying mood. "He's not drunk, I'm afraid. We have to find a way to get him to rest at least another day. I'd say we just refuse to go, but I think he'd leave us behind."

"He'd leave me behind, certainly. But I don't think he'd go without you."

She raised her eyebrow in blatant disbelief and when Oliver only smiled knowingly, she shook his arm and begged him to tell her why he thought that.

"Because he's a gentleman, and he said he would help me get home, no doubt," she said.

Oliver tucked her arm through his and led her toward the staircase, and she marveled at how he could be so adorable and yet so proper. He was like a cross between a kitten and a doting grandfather.

"That's part of it surely, as Quinn does what he says he's going to do." He waved his hand in front of his nose to prove his point. "But the way he talked about you during our journey, I think it has to be more than that."

He lapsed into silence as if that would be enough to satisfy her and they were at the bottom of the stairs before she made an impatient whistling noise.

"What did he say?" she asked. She stopped outside the dining hall, the smell of roasted meat tempting her, but not nearly as much as wanting to know what Quinn said about her. Oliver looked unsure. "Oliver, I know I did some terrible things while I was stuck in your time. To say that I feel awful isn't enough. It's really an insult to the people I wronged, so the only thing I can do now is try to be different, and better." She took his hand and pressed it between hers. "I'm so sorry for interfering. I do know Catie liked you. If there's anything I can do when we find her, I will."

He smiled, and she saw that he forgave her, the sweet person that he was. "It's all in the past, as you say." He laughed at his unintended joke. "It really is in the past, isn't it? This is so bizarre, what we're doing."

She nodded, relieved he didn't harbor any resentment. "Now, please tell me."

Inside the dining hall, she made herself a plate with what was left of the breakfast offering. She was delighted to find there was still plenty of good food for her, but she was so hungry, crusts of bread and ham rinds would have been acceptable to her.

"I don't want to disappoint you," he said, sitting beside her while she wolfed down her meal. "It wasn't anything in particular, but he did keep making up reasons to speak of you, and I could tell he was worried when you didn't show up. So I started making up reasons to speak of you, so that he could have the opportunity. And he always jumped at it."

"For being so worried about me, he sure didn't wait very long. Wodge and I followed you the whole journey and were never far behind."

"Ah, well, he was angry in the beginning," Oliver said. He leaned across the table and lowered his voice. "Wodge, you say? Who was that madman?"

"Just that," she answered, swallowing a large spoonful of parritch. It could have used raisins, cinnamon and about four teaspoons of sugar, but it filled her stomach quite nicely all the same. "A complete nutter."

"What was he after?" Oliver asked.

"To kill us, kill all people who travel through time." She leaned closer and whispered the last part, though only a few stragglers remained in the hall.

"At least we're well rid of him," Oliver said, swallowing hard at the reasoning behind Wodge's murderous intent. Lizzie understood how he felt.

"Are we, though?" she asked urgently, glad to have someone to share her fears with. "I'm fairly sure he was still alive when we left, and he can do it too."

Their noses were practically touching now, Oliver's eyes almost crossed with fear. "That's not completely hypocritical or anything," he said bitterly.

"I told you, he's bats. The only thing that would make me more scared of him is if we found out he was a cyborg." Oliver tilted his head to the side in confusion, and she shook her head briefly. "Never mind. He's plenty dangerous as he is."