Belmary House 4 Page 3

  “Tell me, Dexter Jacobs. Tell me right now. I don’t give a single damn about your fabric of time theories. You tell me what you know.” He looked like he might throw up, he actually turned a shade of green she didn’t think possible for a person. Her own stomach turned over. “Do I have kids? Bloody hell, do I have three kids with Ashford?”

  A tear rolled down his cheek and he hastily brushed it away. He nodded miserably and sat back down, reaching for her hand. “We have to fix this.”

  Emma returned with several bags and grimaced at the heavy scene as she set them down in front of Tilly. The smell of greasy fried meat and chips should have had her descending on the bags like a vulture but her stomach was now in knots and the thought of food tormented her. She didn’t know how she could eat when she might have possibly ruined everything. She tried to imagine herself surrounded by mini Ashfords, running around the hilly Scotland estate, picturing them in tiny Regency garb while they bowed. Or curtsied? Dex apparently knew if she had sons or daughters or both, he knew a whole life she’d apparently had and now might never get. She felt as if she’d committed murder and bit her lower lip hard to keep from sobbing.

  “Do you know them?” she asked, needing to know for sure. “Are - are they good kids?”

  “Of course,” he said without hesitation. “They’re lovely children. I’m rather fond of them. Ariana’s a bit spoiled but that’s on Ashford, not you. I’m sure she’ll grow out of it. ”

  “I named my daughter Ariana?”

  “It’s a beautiful name,” Emma piped in, tentatively taking her hand. As a mother herself, she must have understood the true weight of the situation. It made Tilly feel sicker that she should have understood as well, but she didn’t yet, and might never get to.

  “I think you were trying to make up for our name shortcomings,” he said.

  “Wait, how do you know them? Do I let my children time travel? Maybe I’m not fit to be a mother if I do.”

  “Don’t say that,” Dex said harshly. “You’re a fine mum, truly. And no, I went back a couple times with Liam and your gran.”

  “I thought you didn’t seem too happy to see me after all this time.”

  “I saw you in December, idiot, it hasn’t been long at all for me. I don’t understand how this has happened. What did you do, exactly?” His tone was accusatory and she could tell he was trying hard not to blow up at her.

  “I’d been looking through Ashford’s book. It’s an old grimoire passed down from his mother’s side,” she explained at their questioning looks. “I’d tried a couple of the spells, and finally got one to work. I got carrots to grow overnight. I was so proud, and I guess I got a little big for my britches. There was some time travel stuff in there, and some of it related to the portals that the Glens made— that’s Ashford’s dad’s side, but way back— anyway, one of his ancestors had some theories on how to make them work better, be more reliable.”

  She paused, thinking about Ashford’s grin when she’d shown him the carrots. He’d been proud too, and just happy she was happy. Then everything got spoiled. The smell of the hamburger was too much for her and she finally unwrapped it and took a bite, feeling guilty that it was so heavenly. The dumb little things she missed about her own time could never replace the love she’d felt for Ashford. Still felt. God, she was an idiot. A tear fell onto the bun and she had trouble chewing and crying.

  “Then I got so mad at him I tried one of the incantations. There was a footnote saying no one had ever tried it before, so I figured it wouldn’t work, but I was so pissed I had to do something, and all I could think about was getting back home and getting drunk and crying to mom.”

  “Why didn’t you wait for Liam and your gran to visit?” Dex asked, still full of barely contained exasperation.

  “Did they come see us?” She gasped at his rude look. “But how was I supposed to know? I can’t see the future. Of course it’s easy for you to think how dumb I am, Mr. Hindsight.”

  “Tilly, you tried an untested spell on a dangerous portal. I don’t think it takes any hindsight to know that’s a dumb idea.”

  “That’s enough, you two,” Emma said, and her tone made Tilly shrink back into her chair. Could she ever speak with such calm authority to her own children? Would she ever have those children? She kept eating because she was near starvation from her time in the seventeenth, but it tasted like ash now.

  “I’m sorry.” Dexter leaned back in his own chair and gazed at the ceiling. “I shouldn’t be so harsh, but I really am quite fond of your children.”

  “What are my other kids’ names?” she asked. “How old are they?”

  He swallowed hard. “I’ve already told you too much, so don’t ask me any more questions, please.” Looking her over, he frowned once again. “So, where’s the book?”

  “I didn’t steal Ashford’s book,” she said.

  She’d tried the spell when she was in a fit of outrage. She hadn’t thought it would work, or if it did, she expected to be sent back to when she’d first departed, her own time. She hadn’t thought any of this would happen. She really hadn’t thought at all.

  Emma’s and Dex’s shoulders slumped in defeat that she hadn’t made off with an heirloom that didn’t belong to her. “What do we do now?” Emma asked.

  Dex shrugged. “Get this one some fresh clothes and a shower to start. Then we hope Ashford’s figuring something out on his end.”

  “I’ll call mom if you give me a phone. I really need to talk to her,” Tilly said, anxious to get out of her disgusting gown, but wanting to hear her mother’s voice more.

  “No,” Dex said, making both her and Emma start at his brusque tone. “You can’t call your mum, or my mum, or anyone else. They’ll go mad with worry if they know what you’ve done.” He put his hands on her shoulders at her stricken look and softened his tone. “They’re her grandchildren, Til. My parents feel much the same toward them. You can’t even go to their house as it’s papered with drawings you’ve made of them that I brought back.”

  She bit back a sob. As devastated as she was at the thought that she might have lost the chance for her and Ashford to have been happy, so brilliantly happy, she couldn’t help but feel a frisson of fear for her present life. What would become of her, adrift in time like this? She couldn’t stay here either, having stolen the futures of three children that everyone loved. She wouldn’t be welcomed, she would be shunned. A hidden prisoner in Dex’s flat until either they or Ashford could figure things out. If they could figure them out.

  She wondered if Ashford was still searching for her. He’d sent Thomas out after her, but that might have been due to his overdeveloped sense of responsibility. She’d acted such a fool, perhaps he didn’t want her anymore. Perhaps he’d be relieved to be rid of her so he could settle down with someone who played nice instead of trying to turn everything upside down. She turned away from her unfinished meal, feeling completely alone.

  Chapter 5

  Ashford cleared his desk and hauled the huge old book onto it. He looked at it with loathing for some time before cracking it open. He’d been a damn fool, letting Matilda look through it, but it had all seemed harmless enough, and she was so delighted when those damn carrots of hers sprouted up so quickly.

  He sat down and slowly turned the pages, marveling at how she’d managed to decipher any of the mumbo jumbo before him. But his Matilda was clever, too clever to expect her to sit around receiving visitors. Of course she couldn’t do any of her mad schemes like start a business.

  Start a business! He snorted at the thought, quickly sobering as he recalled how unpleasant he’d been about it. While she certainly couldn’t go into trade, he should have been more patient, taken the time to explain things to her. She wasn’t from this time after all, and he’d seen firsthand what went on in her time. It was no wonder she didn’t understand the rules in his. If he couldn’t make her understand, he should have tried to come up with some sort of alternative, a compromise, not bellowed at he
r that no wife of his would work.

  His heart ached, still hearing her shaky voice as she’d retorted that maybe she wouldn’t be his wife after all. He missed her so much he thought he might break everything he touched. His muscles were constantly tense, he was sure he was a fright to look at, unable to make his face into anything other than the most ruthless scowl. He might never be able to smile again if she didn’t return to him.

  He focused on the tiny handwriting and tried to decipher the different drawings and diagrams, wondering if he was really a part of his family after all. Camilla had taken to it like a fish to water, and the one time he saw his mother use the book, it had been as easy as looking up a recipe for bread. Had he been found alongside the road somewhere? He could only seem to do magic when Matilda was around, and since she was able to understand the damn book, maybe he’d just been syphoning off her in some odd way.

  His head throbbed and he longed for her to come in as she often did and knead the knots out of his shoulders before kissing the back of his neck. He wanted to turn in his chair and take her by the waist and pull her onto his lap, forgetting whatever work that had been before him. Only Matilda could take him away from himself like that.

  The door opened and he spun around, knocking his teacup to the floor with a clatter. He’d been so caught up in his fantasy that he thought for a moment she’d come back to him, or perhaps it had been a cruel nightmare from which he’d finally awoken. But it was only Kostya, and after his bitter disappointment dissipated he was glad to see him. He was truly magical stock and if the answer was in the book, he could surely find it.

  “Need some help?” he asked, kindly pretending Ashford hadn’t practically jumped out of his skin when he entered the room.

  “Yes, I most certainly do. This is worse than Latin to me, and I was terrible at Latin.”

  “I dare say some of it actually is in Latin, Ashford. Do you really know so little about your own heritage?”

  “I really do. That was all Camilla, as well you know. I was only just wondering if I’d been picked up somewhere, a stray of sorts.”

  Ashford moved his chair over so Kostya could pull one up beside him. The leatherbound monstrosity took up most of the desk and they could each comfortably sit and look at a page.

  “I wonder that Tilly could even lift this,” Kostya said.

  Ashford suspected he was trying to lighten his mood, but it didn’t work. “She’s strong,” he said, his voice cutting off. He took a breath. “I hope she’s safe. She can handle a lot, but still …”

  “You said Thomas managed to make it back. Perhaps it’s looping around through different years. If she keeps going into it, she’ll make it back as well.”

  “Yes, I did think of that, but Thomas left almost immediately after her. Which means if that’s correct, she should have been back already. So, it’s either not correct or she’s stopped trying. Which means—”

  “It doesn’t mean anything,” Kostya said. “We’re only speculating. We don’t know anything for certain. Turn the page, this is all rubbish for causing warts.”

  “You mean curing warts,” Ashford said, appalled.

  Kostya smiled crookedly as he shook his head. “I told you they weren’t all love spells.”

  ***

  Serena kissed her new husband, wishing he wouldn’t go back downstairs. She knew he had to offer his help to Ashford, and she truly wanted Tilly to be returned safely to them, but she didn’t like the idea of him messing about with that book one bit.

  She loved Kostya with a ferocity she’d never thought possible after years of pining after Ashford. She knew now that whatever unrequited feelings she’d had for him were nothing compared to the real passion she had for Kostya. She patted her belly, glad to be in a dressing gown at last. Their baby was the best possible surprise, and she wished Kostya would stay in the room with her and lay his head on her ever growing bump and speak nonsense to him like he often did. It made her laugh and feel ridiculously proud that she was going to be the mother to such an incredible man’s child. It made her blush at her silliness but she couldn’t help her feelings.

  Thinking about why he wasn’t with her right now made her mood darken and she pushed away her jealousy, another crazed symptom of pregnancy she couldn’t explain away. She was jealous of everything that took Kostya’s time away from her, but at home she knew he had to work, she knew he’d come home safely to her every evening after taking care of all that needed his attention at the vast estate he ran for Ashford.

  She wondered if they should have gone to her house to live after their marriage, or if they should have started fresh somewhere else, but the estate was like a second home to her, actually it felt more like home than where she’d actually been born. When she was in a rational frame of mind she knew with certainty that Ashford had no intention of living on the Scottish estate full time, and he would never put them out even if he did. He had no interest or capability to run the place. But she hadn’t felt rational lately.

  “It’s all your doing, wee sprite,” she said to her belly bulge.

  She lay back on the bed and tried to relax, but her mind was filled with fearful thoughts of what might come out of that foul book of Ashford’s, as if a malicious creature lived within its pages, just waiting to be freed. She shuddered and wished Kostya wasn’t from a long line of witches. It had been hard to accept, and she was ashamed that she’d once thought of running from him, finding a way to raise the baby alone. She’d hated every moment he was in Moldavia with his family, not knowing what was happening to him, afraid the entire time, especially after Ashford had spewed that her child was in danger if he didn’t take care of some mysterious something.

  When Kostya finally returned, exhausted both mentally and physically, he’d been tight-lipped, only saying everything was fine now. But it hadn’t been fine, that she could tell by looking at him. He’d been through a terrible ordeal, beginning from when he’d got a message from Ashford urging him to go to France at once. That was when he’d begun to look hollow about the eyes, as if something had been taken from him, and then she was completely shut out until he returned from Moldavia, months later.

  She pushed down the bitterness that he’d left her alone and still wouldn’t explain why. He’d begged her to trust him and of course she did, but she wanted that emptiness gone from his eyes. It sometimes left, when they were intimate or when he spoke to the baby so foolishly, but it always returned.

  “It’s the bloody magic,” she said aloud. “And you’re part of it, aren’t you, poor lamb?”

  Ashford claimed to have no abilities, though his sister and mother had them, so it was possible her child wouldn’t have it passed down to him. She started to say a prayer to that effect, but the words wouldn’t come. It was as if the wee thing wanted the powers, whether she wanted him to or not. “Already a hellion, are you?”

  She wanted to know what was going on so badly, it gnawed at her insides like hunger. As much as she wanted to believe Kostya was taking care of her and the baby, that everything was fine like he assured her, she wanted to know exactly why her child had been in danger, exactly what Kostya had done to make it fine.

  Perhaps that book has some answers, she thought, laughing at herself. As if she could understand a word of it, and also, hadn’t they said no one could touch it without Ashford’s express consent? She felt a little devil poking her. Ashford couldn’t say no to her if she asked to have a peek at it. She’d go down at once and act terribly casual, as if she only wanted tea, maybe look over their shoulders or listen in on them when they forgot she was in the room.

  She wrapped a shawl around herself and straightened her hair, on fire to learn something, anything, about what had taken her husband from her. Because though he was back from Moldavia in body, a piece of him hadn’t returned. And she wanted all of him. He was hers.

  “Darling, what is it? Are you unwell?” Kostya was as solicitous as ever when she found them in Ashford’s study. Ashford had a sour
face on, which she ignored.

  “I’m perfectly well, only needed some tea.”

  “You could have rung from your room,” Ashford grumbled.

  “And to spend time with my two favorite people in the world,” she added through clenched teeth.

  Ashford begrudgingly called for tea and then set about making awkward conversation with her.

  “Oh, don’t put yourselves out,” she told them, trying to see the book spread out over the desk, but they kept their shoulders squarely together and she could barely see a cracked leather corner. “I’ll sit here as quietly as a mouse while you go about your business.”

  They both raised their eyebrows infuriatingly, as if they saw right through her. With a knowing glance at Ashford, Kostya stood up and stretched.

  “Nonsense, my love, you’d only be bored. We were about done here for the night, weren’t we?”

  Ashford’s eyes flew wide and he looked like he could have strangled her, or Kostya, or both of them, but finally agreed that he was done for the night. She knew as soon as they went up to their room that he’d be back at it, but she wasn’t to be foiled so easily. Mustering her courage, she boldly asked, “May I look at the book?”

  “Certainly not,” they answered in unison.

  She scowled at them in turn and looked pointedly at Ashford, blinking a few times for good measure. He’d grown stronger against her wiles since he’d been with Tilly, but she thought he might still give in to her if she gave it her all.

  “Perhaps whatever Tilly was looking for will jump out at me,” she said. “Women’s intuition, you know. I want her back as much as you do,” she said.

  And it was true. The people in the village back home treaded carefully around her, were as kind as could be, but she didn’t have any true friends. Tilly had become a true friend to her, and if she could help while also getting what she wanted, then she was perfectly fine with that.