Emma flew alright, right off the bottom of the banister and onto the floor, where she rolled tail over-head until she bounced against the heavy set of double doors. Her head thunked with a loud sound echoing through the wide, dim foyer. Footsteps pounded closer until a man and woman came to a skidding halt at the same time Lucas made it down the curved, wide staircase.
“Emma!” Lucas was at her side first, his hands going to her face and tilting it up. He breathed a sigh of relief when the long, dark lashes lifted but were filled with immense confusion.
“That shouldn’t have hurt,” she mumbled testily, hands down on the floor to push herself up, only to have her sway and fall against Lucas. “Sorry…I think I’m a little wobbly…”
“Get some cold water and a cloth, Harris,” Lucas ordered, bending slightly and lifting her against him. “Lay still, Emma. Mrs. Neilson, send someone to town and see if the doctor can stop here. I should have ignored my father and had him here immediately,” he ground angrily, striding forcefully through the hall and into the dining area. “That chair with arms, bring it close to the table, please.” He waited until the young girl followed his instructions before he lowered Emma to the seat.
“It shouldn’t have hurt,” Emma repeated, blinking up at him as he dipped a cloth in water and held it to her temple. “Why does it hurt? Dreams do not hurt,” she said firmly, willing herself to believe it.
“Now will you please believe me when I tell you that you are not dreaming,” Lucas informed her with a harsh tone he rarely used. He scowled as he held the cool, damp cloth to her temple. “Bring out the brunch, Nancy. Thank you.”
“Yes, sir,” she answered, hurrying off to the kitchen.
“You’re all British. And the dress…their clothing…” she took the cloth from him and looked around the room. For the first time since bouncing out of bed naked as a jay bird, she studied his clothing, his manners.
No light bulbs, she noticed as her eyes went around the room, taking in the furniture and fixtures. No switches on the walls. A long buffet type cabinet. Extra chairs around the long, heavy table covered with lace and cloth. She looked over the younger girl carrying in a large tray and setting goblets filled with water to the table before arranging plates and silver. And their clothing. All dresses. Skirts that stopped just short of their ankles with big white aprons and a tiny pinned cap on her head.
Her head snapped around, eyes wide as she peered into the round lenses and the blue eyes that watched her cautiously. People don’t dress like that at home. Do they? Even in England…then she looked down at her own dress and bare toes.
“Oh, god…” her head started shaking. “No…oh, no…” she pushed out of the chair, backing away from Lucas.
“Emma…” He really didn’t like the frantic, rampant fear suddenly filling her eyes or the slight quivering of her lower lip. She was shaking her head back and forth, her chest rising and falling far too quickly.
“No! No, this isn’t…I didn’t ask for this!” She whispered in mounting agitation. She stared at him in disbelief. “It’s wrong. All wrong and…and impossible.”
“Please, sit down…” he took a step closer, stopping when she countered with another back toward the wall. There was a desperation in her voice, pleading in her words for him to understand.
“No…I wanted to die…” she whispered softly. “I prayed and wished…don’t you see? I don’t want this…I don’t want another life…to hurt all over again. I wanted peace. I wanted it over! I’m tired of being lonely and of having to lie and…and…I just wanted nothing!” She stopped and looked down at her palm, her thumb and fingers coming together. “The stone…I was holding the stone when I went to sleep…”
Lucas cursed loudly when she took off at a run, her dress gathered in her hands. He caught a glimpse of bare legs as he rounded the arched doorway to the hall. He heard her feet pounding on the stairs as he raced down the hall to the staircase. He was breathing heavily by the time he made it to the open doorway of her bedroom.
Blankets and pillows were thrown around as she shoved things off the large bed.
Moving across the room, Lucas quickly bound the bed curtains to the heavy frame of the bed corners. He waited, watching her search for something.
“Emma…please, speak to me…”
“It has to be here,” she mumbled. “I was holding it. I remember it in my hand…it’s the only explanation. This isn’t a dream…”
Emotion filled each word she whispered and hung in the air when she threw herself off the bed, backing away.
He didn’t like it. She was still breathing way too quickly, her head still shaking. But this time when her eyes met his, they swam with unshed tears. He had to admit to preferring the fanciful, carefree Emma. He didn’t know how to make this better for her.
“I shouldn’t be here,” she told him adamantly when he moved closer, his hands up to grip her shoulders.
Lucas was relieved when she didn’t fight him although the lost look behind the unshed tears was tearing him to pieces.
“Emma…you’ve been through a considerable ordeal the last few days. You’ve struck your head several times and I’m uncertain of the type of drug your father used to subdue you…” he winced, thinking by the impossibly wide eyes that this might have been a bad time to bring up her father and his actions.
“This is not real,” came the fevered whisper, her eyes squeezing tightly shut. “It’s not real, it’s not real,” she continued to whisper in a soft mantra, vaguely aware of the strong arms that had pulled her against his chest and the single palm that stroked over the loosely woven braid.
“Come over here and sit,” Lucas tried turning her toward the chair and stopped only when she refused to move.
“No. I want to sleep. I need to sleep,” she told him anxiously, pushing against his chest and frowning when nothing moved. “Let me go. I don’t belong here. I wished…I don’t belong here,” she repeated, just a hint of anger in a tone that still sounded lost. “Let me go.”
“You need food. It’s been a few days since you’ve eaten, Emma,” he told her logically, keeping his fingers firmly on her shoulders. “Come back to the dining hall with me and have brunch. We can discuss where you belong over our meal.”
“You don’t understand,” she breathed, her head shaking. “I don’t belong here.”
“If you eat, I’ll let you lie down and take a nap,” he promised, his hands loosening slightly when she nodded slowly.
“Alright. Alright…brunch…” she walked with him, suddenly aware of all the unusual things around her. Unusual for the time she was accustomed to. “Eastbourne, England…but I’m not English. I don’t sound English.”
“You’re an American,” he said carefully, cautiously. He wasn’t certain what was going through her head or how badly she was hurt. But he knew the panic he saw in her eyes was something he wanted to make vanish.
“How did I get here?” It was impossible, her logical mind argued, holding to the railing of the stairs and thinking how very solid it felt beneath her fingers. How very firm and real. It was all real. She supped in several fast breaths and suddenly felt dizzy.
“Emma,” Lucas moved quickly, lifting her from the floor before she buckled to her knees and rolled down the stairs. He thought briefly about carrying her back to the bedroom and bringing the food to her but continued down the stairs instead.
“I’m alright…a little dizzy…maybe food would be good,” she admitted quietly, trying to wrap her brain around what she was seeing, what she was feeling and most of all, what she was…and where she wasn’t. “Tell me. Please. Tell me what happened. Tell me why I’m here. I have to know…I have to figure out…” she shook her head and exhaled slowly, forcing a calm into her that she couldn’t find.
Lucas settled her on her feet, his lips curling when he noticed the small, bare feet. “Sit and eat and we’ll talk,” he held the chair for her, adjusting it before taking his seat at the head of the table. He nodded to the young woman waiting patiently by the side arch.
“Who is that?” Emma watched the girl curtsey and hurry through the arch.
“Nancy. She’ll be assigned to you, if you like,” he said absently, frowning at her question.
“Assigned to me? For what?” Emma watched his actions, following them and shaking out the heavy napkin and laying it on her lap.
“Set the platters on the table, Nancy, it’s big enough,” Lucas waited while the various platters and containers were set around the table. “Coffee or tea, Emma?”
She shook her head. “Water is fine, thank you,” she felt her stomach growl in appreciation and sighed. Okay. It wasn’t a dream. It was turning rapidly into a nightmare. She reached and lifted a white cloth from a basket and found several fresh rolls and took one to her plate, pulling it open and inhaling the fresh smell. “It smells delicious,” she said before pulling a chunk free and popping it into her mouth.
He’d said it had been almost two days since she ate. Her gaze drifted to the large multi-paned window. But she’d had soup the night before. She remembered it. She remembered cooking the ramen noodles and…she didn’t know her name. She could see the apartment. Her kitchen, her bedroom…but not her name.
“What day is it?” She asked quietly, staring out at the sunshine and green shrubs and trees. “Is it summer?”
Lucas spooned some of the eggs to his plate and reached for the thick slices of ham.
“It’s Saturday, just half past eleven in the morning. It is the third of August, eighteen hundred and seventy-two,” he recited it all and watched her reaction. He was moving to pat her gently on the back when she waved him away, one palm up and her head shaking as she reached for the water goblet and drained half of it.
“I’m good…it’s alright,” she nodded, knowing all too well she was lying to him as well as to herself. “This is crazy. It’s just…impossible…so impossible,” she whispered to herself.
“Perhaps if you explained to me what you feel is impossible, I might be able to help with a logical explanation,” Lucas offered carefully.
“Oh, I don’t think…you’d put me in a home,” she murmured, her head shaking slowly. Hunger was quickly over-riding the impossibility of the entire day. She pushed a long breath between her lips and straightened her shoulders resolutely.
“I’m afraid I don’t grasp the context of your statement, Emma.”
“I don’t want you to believe I’m…unstable,” she selected her word carefully.
“Frightened, confused and perhaps extremely uninhibited,” Lucas chose his words with an offered smile at the flush of color to her cheeks. “But I’ve yet to view anything I’d consider as unstable, Emma.”
“Thank you…I think,” she sighed and studied her choices, the low rumbling in her stomach refusing to be held off any longer.
She looked at the platter of ham and forked a slice onto her plate, slicing off a nice piece of it and opening the crunchy roll. She slathered butter on the fluffy hot insides and added the ham before closing the roll and lifting it to take a hungry bite.
The ham was seasoned just right; the butter was sweet and she was so busy chewing her sandwich that she didn’t notice the stares from Nancy and Lucas. Not at first. She looked up from the bundle of taste in her fingers and shifted uncomfortably in her seat.
She lowered the sandwich to the plate and lifted her napkin, brushing it over her face but found nothing there.
“Is something wrong?” She asked very slowly, following their stare at her plate. “It’s called a sandwich. I’m sure they have sandwiches here. Bread with meat and cheese and maybe tomatoes and lettuce and pickles and more bread,” her explanation came to a slow stop. “Aright…well…to each their own.”
“As long as you eat, I’m not concerned for the style or method in which it happens,” Lucas said simply, nudging his glasses up his nose with one finger.
Emma reached for slices of apples and oranges, added some grapes and sighed in contentment. She knew they tried not to stare. She looked around at the other containers, the things she couldn’t quite identify and was honestly afraid to ask. She worked to pull every possible thing she knew from her memories about the period and fell very, very short of knowledge.
Okay, she drew in a long, slow breath in between bites of her newly created sandwich. This time she had added a few eggs, some salt and pepper and a thick slice of ham. So, she really didn’t know anything, but she could go back to sleep and wake up normal.
Yeah. Sure. That was a possibility since you have no earthly idea how you got here, how can you even begin to figure out how to get back? And what was there to get back to?
The last thought made the color fade from her cheeks.
Lucas watched a strange sadness enter her eyes and wished she would speak; wished she would tell him what was in her thoughts.
“Speak to me, Emma, please,” Lucas started to reach for her and stopped himself. His intentions had been clear. He had intended to send her back to her father and break the arrangement his father had made. Only son or not, he did not want a woman in his life. Especially a woman who was forced into a union with him.
“I don’t belong here,” she said quietly. “I don’t know how I got here. I don’t know why I’m here. I don’t even know who I am.” She forced a deep breath into her lungs and closed her eyes. “I’m sorry. You’ve been a very patient man.”
“Do you believe I blame you for the actions of your father?” He asked softly.
“I don’t know him, either. Obviously, I don’t mean much to him,” Emma looked over at him, delicately picking at the cheese she placed on her plate and that had appeared on the table. She lifted her sandwich and continued eating. “Tell me what happened. Your father and mine, you said…in a card game.”
“They game in London,” Lucas looked into her eyes this time but saw nothing of the panic that had been there an hour earlier. Now he saw determination and strength. He wondered if she saw the same thing when she peered into a mirror. Did she see the innocence and impishness that toyed behind her lashes? Somehow he doubted that.
“Is he simply a bad card player or was your father his target?” She saw surprise enter his eyes and shrugged. “It seems a logical question. Is it normal that games of chance include people as if they were belongings or slaves to be given to the victor without their knowledge or consent or is it just females who have no worth?”
Lucas leaned back in his chair. The anger that surged through her radiated vividly and he would swear she was glowing with the fury inside her.
“I have heard of such wagers in the gaming hells across England and the Continent,” Lucas admitted slowly. He pushed a long breath between his teeth, following her casual example and lifting a slice of cheese to bite into. “I am not proud of the way males treat females in this world. Suffice it to say, I do not adhere to those behaviors.”
“Why did your father take the wager?”
Lucas laughed but it was far from amused.
“My father has never been one to explain his actions or decisions. I know that my choices, my decisions, have upset him,” Lucas said thoughtfully. “Or at least, that is what I’m given to believe. If he were interested even the slightest in whether or not I had a wife, it would only be to get his hands on the dowry that was offered.”
“Society makes dictates and some people rush to conform. Others make their own path and ignore those looking down their noses at them,” Emma pushed her plate back and sighed. “I think I seriously needed that meal.”
“Then we should continue our talk in the library,” Lucas stood up and extended his palm to her.
This wasn’t a good idea. Even as she slid her palm into his, he realized she was so much smaller as it slid into the warmth.
She didn’t belong here. The words echoed in her head as he drew her to her feet. She didn’t know the woman she saw reflected in the lenses of his glasses.
“What do you know about me?”
“I was in London,” Lucas began as they walked along the hall, her palm tucked around his arm. “Perhaps a walk outside? I think you’ll find the grass cool beneath your feet.”
“Will you answer questions if we go outside?”
“What transpired embarrasses me, Emma. And angers me.”
“Not speaking of it doesn’t make it so. I need to know. Please,” she said softly, pausing with him in front of two large open doors. “The library?” She asked, slipping her hand free of his arm and walking into the large open room. There was a narrow second level and the room was lined with shelves filled with books of all sizes and shapes. “This isn’t your father’s house, is it?”
“No,” he was surprised at her question, her observation.
“Tell me about what happened, Lucas,” Emma walked to a large leather chair and sat down, waiting patiently.
Lucas glanced toward the wide open patio doors. “I bought this house over six years ago and have slowly, carefully renovated it. Changed it. Improved it.”
“From what I’ve seen, you’ve done a very fine job,” she grinned at him, hoping to coax a smile from him. “I especially like the banister.”
“That we will discuss another time,” he said, trying for stern and losing to the impish grin on her face. “Would you wait until tomorrow, Emma? I think perhaps you’re attempting to flood too much information back into your mind.”
“Excuse me,” Nancy stood in the doorway, looking at Lucas. “My lord…the physician is here. As you requested.”
“Show him in, please, Nancy,” Lucas walked to the large desk at the far end of the room, pacing back slowly.
“I don’t need a doctor, Lucas. I’m fine,” Emma shrugged. “I don’t even have a headache. Although…” she winced and shifted, quickly pulling her expression to nothing again when Lucas looked alarmed. “It’s nothing. Really. Let’s just say I know not to slide down the banister again…without a great many pillows at the bottom of the stairs.”
She was teasing and laughing up until the point when Lucas had his hands on her shoulders and was lifting her to her toes.
“You will not slide down the banister again, Emaline Carstairs,” Lucas put his face close to hers, his breath warm over her cheek. “Do you understand me?”
Long lashes flew wide, her head bobbing quickly because she really didn’t think her voice was working right now.