The annoying buzz in Jaci’s head gave way to voices; fuzzy at first, but gradually becoming more distinct. Two men spoke, their accent more eastern than her slight Texas drawl. She focused on the more gentle of the two voices, the rhythm of his words reminding her of the soft cadence of the carousel.
Even as she listened, she couldn’t rouse herself enough to speak. She recalled weird dreams — children asking for kisses to wake princesses, a very handsome, but strange man, pretending to be someone from another century. She did recall falling on the carousel, and must have hit her head harder than she thought.
“MacAdoo keeps asking about her, though why he would ask about a stranger is beyond me,” a gruff voice commented.
Oh, dear. Mackey. Wondering how he fared, she opened her eyes, but wasn’t given the opportunity to speak.
“Ah, you’re awake. Now, if you will tell me your name and why you fell into Wildwood’s exercise ring with my prize thoroughbreds, my patience will be rewarded.” It was the swamp monster voice. Jaci couldn’t remember his name, but she did recall his brusque attitude from earlier.
“I fell on a carousel,” she softly replied, unable to raise her voice to match the anger she felt at this man’s highhandedness. In both their conversations, he had spoken as though she had invaded his precious space. “Why do you keep referring to State Fair Park as Wildwood?”
“We’ve had this conversation before.”
Listening to his voice, she finally recalled his name — Nicholas Westbrooke. She watched as another man, shorter and fair-haired, pulled Nicholas aside, the conversation now in muted tones she strained to hear.
“...late eighteen hundreds and modern advances of medicine, you would think you could find some way of getting the truth from her.”
“What time is it?” Her ear caught the numbers. She blinked several times as she tried to focus on the other man, who at this point appeared much friendlier. When she turned her head, however, intense pain shot up her neck to the base of her skull. She groaned.
“The time? Odd question, truly, but it is half past three in the afternoon.” This time, the younger man answered, his voice soothing and calm.
She was confused. “But didn’t he say it was six something?”
“I beg your pardon?” Nicholas answered, this time his harsh voice not matching the concern she saw in the soft silver of his eyes.
“You know, six o’clock — eighteen hundred hours?” Having flown all around the world at one time or the other, Jaci’s mind automatically switched from regular to international time.
“How odd a comment. The blow to your head must have spilled your wits.” Nicholas’s dark brows came together over assessing eyes.
She watched in fascination as his full lips moved in speech but she had a hard time understanding. Her ears rang and vision blurred, and she knew if she closed her eyes, she would wake up in her own bed. Immediately, she squeezed her eyes shut. It’s all a dream, she repeated to herself — all a dream.
“Nicholas, really. There’s no sense scaring her wits out of her,” the soft voiced man defended. “I’ve never heard of such a thing — hundreds of hours. My dear girl, 1874 is the year, not a time of day.”
Jaci’s eyes flew open to see his frown and note the concern in his gaze while his words assaulted her brain. Her own eyes blurred with tears while her logical, systematic mind shifted to overload and allowed her the only possible way out. She fainted.
Nicholas turned to Thomas, his friend and a practicing physician. “Why would she keep losing consciousness? She doesn’t appear to be that delicate.”
Thomas listened to the woman’s heartbeat, lifted an eyelid, and scrutinized her breathing. “This time she is only in a faint. The blow to her head, while leaving a nasty bump, is apparently creating a pain serious enough to cause her distress. I’ll leave laudanum for her. I have no doubt she’ll recover quickly.”
“Well, if you’re sure she’s out of danger, I’ll leave her in Mrs. Jeffrey’s capable hands and travel back to Philadelphia with you. I have several business transactions to conduct that I’ve been putting off.”
Thomas chuckled. “Business? I swear, Nicholas, you are the only man I know who would leave a beautiful woman alone in your bed to conduct business. I doubt there’s much hope for you.” Shaking his head in mock sadness, Thomas left the room, still chuckling.
Nicholas remained beside the bed staring down at the creature who had mysteriously appeared in his life. In their two short conversations, he had determined she had a strong will and stubborn streak, both of which were traits he admired.
For reasons he didn’t have time to dissect, he felt drawn to her. Something in her green gaze held him spellbound; her speech, a slight drawl he couldn’t decipher, intrigued him. His brother, Cameron, would call this attraction fate, but Nicholas didn’t believe in fate, or luck.
“Cameron? Damn,” Nicholas swore, leaving the room and closing the door softly behind him.
As he gathered his things and called for his carriage, he thought about his younger sibling. Cameron was the main reason he must go to Philadelphia. It was time his brother took responsibility for his life and those who should be a part of it. While in the city, he would also do a little investigating into this woman’s strange comments about historical reenactments and carousels.
Nicholas and Thomas traveled in companionable silence in Nicholas’s carriage; Thomas’s horse tied to the rear. Even as he traveled away from Wildwood, he couldn’t keep his mind off the beautiful young woman he had left lying in a bed in his home. Why did she speak in so strange a manner? Where did she call home?
She dressed curiously, asked very intriguing questions, and had the most wondrous green eyes full of mystery. He wondered impulsively if her lips were as soft to the touch as they had looked when she nervously licked them before speaking. He was inexplicably drawn to her vulnerability and the fear she had tried to hide, and would have gladly stayed at her side if not for urgent business.
“Will you see Lycinda while in town?” Thomas questioned idly.
Guilt immediately gripped Nicholas as he thought of Lycinda Edwardson. “Yes, of course.” In silent atonement, he promised himself to call on her after he visited with her father, who also happened to be his banker.
* * *
Jaci didn’t know how long she had slept. She recalled her strange conversation with the even stranger man, and was determined to get dressed and go home. Her head felt much better, and she knew if she didn’t make a quick phone call, Mandy would probably have the police looking for her. She swung her legs over the side of the bed to get up when the little girl bounced into the room.
“Oh, I’m glad you are awake. Before he left, Uncle Nicholas forbid me to bother you, but you slept for days, and I thought you might never wake.”
The little girl still pretended to be something else, even though they were alone. She decided to get to the bottom of this, once and for all. “You’re from a reenactment village, right?”
“I don’t understand that word. I’m only five, you know.”
“You dress up and pretend to live in a different era, ah, time period.” She defined the word.
Amanda looked quite taken with the idea, as though she had never thought of it before. “I don’t know why someone would want to do that. I like it right here where I am.”
Jaci sighed, trying to convince her. “It’s just for fun. You know, pretend; make believe?”
Amanda shrugged, bounced off the bed and headed for the door. “Well, I suppose. Uncle Nicholas says sometimes people pretend to be what they’re not. Is that what you mean?” She never even waited for an answer, assuming Jaci would agree with her. “I’ll get Molly to bring you something to eat.”
Jaci finally relaxed, knowing she hadn’t flipped out. She had apparently hit her head pretty hard. The strange dreams must have been caused by her fall or from the medicine that man gave her to drink.
She turned toward the door when a petite young girl of about sixteen came in, carrying a tray laden with a silver coffee pot, cup, and a dish of toast and jellies. Considering the circumstances, Jaci didn’t think it at all strange for this girl to be wearing a long black dress, white apron, and a starched white cap set primly on top her head.
Her stomach growled at the thought of food, and she couldn’t remember the last time she had eaten. She would eat something so not to appear rude, before going home to see Mandy and get back to the normal humdrum of her life.
“Hello, there.” At the sound of Jaci’s voice, the maid clattered the tray to the small desk. Spinning around, her wide eyes flickered to Jaci then down to the floor. Her hands nervously twisted her apron.
“I brung — brought — you some coffee,miss.” The girl curtsied as she spoke, still not looking directly at Jaci.
“Thank you, but I’d much rather have my clothes.”
“Excuse me, Miss?”
“My clothes. That man — the one who thinks he’s in charge? He didn’t take them with him, did he?” She felt a moment of panic at not having her possessions.
“Goodness, no. Mister Westbrooke, he wouldn’t let us throw them away, strange though they be. Says your belongings are your belongings, and we was — were — not to bother them.” The maid curtsied again and scooted across the room to a large cupboard on one wall. “Here they be, Miss, right here in the wardrobe. Cleaned them up the best we could, considering you fell in the middle of the horse pens and all.” The girl almost smiled, thought better of it, and curtsied again.
Jaci rushed to the cupboard, relieved to see her faded jeans and sweatshirt. She grabbed them close and buried her face in the denim. It was a dream, after all.
“Mister Westbrooke; is he here?” She didn’t particularly want to see the man again, but felt she owed him thanks for taking care of her.
“No, Miss, he went to the city with Dr. Stillwell. Said he’d be back late today, perhaps.”
She assumed Dr. Stillwell was the other man who had faded in and out of her consciousness. She glanced out the window. Considering the lateness of the day, she dumped her clothes on the bed, anxious to get dressed and out of this very strange place.
When she noticed the maid coming over to help, she stopped unbuttoning the nightgown she wore. “I don’t need any help. You can go do whatever it is you normally do, but first—” Jaci hesitated. “First, can you tell me where the bathroom is?”
“Bathroom, Miss?”
“Yes, the bathroom. You know, to — ah —” She snapped her teeth together in frustration. In her mind, she formed a letter to the administrator of this place, suggesting the employees be a little more helpful and a little less authentic.
“Oh.” Recognition must have dawned on the maid, for she moved forward, this time bending over and removing a china chamber pot from beneath the bed. “There you be, Miss. I’ll leave you to your morning toilet.”
Jaci’s mouth dropped open as she stared. The maid curtsied yet again before leaving the room.
“This is too much,” she muttered as she jerked on her clothes. She splashed water on her face from the china bowl sitting on a commode. Boy, would she have a story for Mandy. She’d have to bring her sister back to the village; it was the kind of thing Mandy would like.
Leaving behind the frilly room and unbidden memories of the tall, handsome stranger, she descended a wide curved staircase to a marble foyer. The size of the house was impressive and Jaci certainly hoped the State Fair Board could recoup their money from this extravagance. She spied a boy dressed in knee breeches, shirt and vest near the door and assumed him to be part of the tour.
“Would you please call me a taxi?” She asked when she drew near. He screwed his face into a frown, apparently not understanding.
“You know — a taxi, a cab, a hack?”
“Oh, yes, Miss. I suppose that would be possible, but why would you want one?”
“To go home, of course.” She sighed; tired of this game everyone except her seemed to enjoy playing.
“But, ma’am. If I was to travel the sixteen miles to town to find you a hack, only to get him to travel the sixteen miles out here to collect you, wouldn’t it be easier if you took Mister Westbrooke’s carriage into town straight-away?” The boy eyed her strangely, as though she didn’t make sense but he did.
She thought she would laugh out loud at the absurdity of the situation, but from the boy’s look, he wouldn’t think it funny. Instead, she decided to play along.
“Okay, fine. We’ll take Mister Westbrooke’s carriage.”
“Well, I’m afraid you can’t do that.”
“Why not?” She screeched at the youngster, unable to suspend her anger at his stubborn insistence on playing his role.
The boy straightened to his full height, and Jaci realized even though he appeared years younger than her, he was definitely much larger.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s just that I must get home.”
“Yes, well, be that as it may, you still can’t take the carriage.”
“And the reason?” This was worse than playing twenty questions with Mandy.
“Mister Westbrooke took the carriage to Philadelphia, and besides, he doesn’t allow anyone to take it without his permission. What other reason might there be?” The boy gave his answer like she was the muddle-headed one. For a minute, Jaci actually considered she might still be under the influence of whatever drug they had given her earlier.
“This is ridiculous,” she muttered, jerking the door open on her own. “I can find a phone by myself.” The brightness of the late afternoon sun assailed her the minute she stepped through the door. She raised a hand to shade her eyes, squinting in all directions to gain her bearings.
Nothing appeared familiar. A paddock full of horses was visible off to the right, but the carousel had completely disappeared. She moved her gaze more slowly from place to place. She saw no phones or admission booth. There appeared to be no curio shop selling souvenirs of the recreation of history. All around her, leaves had turned bright yellow and red, where this morning — or was it yesterday? — they were still green, though fall hung heavy in the air.
She skirted the chairs on the porch and skipped down the steps, racing along the dirt road that ran parallel to the fence. Where was the asphalt? She strained her eyes to find some familiar landmark, but nothing was as it had been. Veering to the left, she ran faster, trees and scenery blurring as tears welled up and spilled over.
Her heart pounded in rhythm with her feet. The varied conversations of the people here echoed through her mind as she ran. She recalled the girl’s belief that she lived in this period of long dresses and formal manners; the doctor and Nicholas conversing about the date. What had they insisted — 1874 was the date, not a time?
“Dear God, please don’t do this to me,” she moaned aloud to the heavens, her footsteps never faltering as she flew down the tree-lined path. If what they said was true, she doubted she could run far enough or fast enough to get back where she belonged.
* * *
Nicholas remained frustrated and restless as Stephen drove him back to Wildwood. It had taken little time to conduct most of his business, but Cameron had gone to sea with the latest shipment to England, and now it would be months before he returned. What was Nicholas supposed to do with his niece, Amanda, since her governess had left?
His thoughts came to a jarring halt as the carriage swerved to the right then came rapidly to a stop, almost unseating him. He opened the door and stepped down as his driver jumped off the high box seat to come to his assistance.
“What on earth is the matter with you, Stephen?”
“Lordy, I’m sorry, sir, but the horses spooked when that...that person flew by.” His driver waved frantically past the back of the carriage and Nicholas turned to look.
“What?” He stared after the apparition running as though the very devil were on her tail.
“Wait here,” he instructed his driver, before taking off after the vanishing figure.
For two days this female had been constantly on his mind, even as he dined with Lycinda and her family in Philadelphia. As he had sat across from the demure and dainty Miss Edwardson, images of flashing green eyes had come to mind. A full, womanly figure beneath the muddy fabric of an overlarge shirt and men’s trousers had transcended his vision as Lycinda entertained at the piano after the lavish meal.
He had quickly conducted the most pressing of his business, had bid her and her father good-bye, and had rushed back to Wildwood. Why? He couldn’t say except he felt a sense of responsibility toward this strange woman and there had been an instant attraction impossible to deny.
Now he had to race like the wind to keep her from escaping before he could determine the cause of the attraction. Finally he slowed to a trot, coming up behind her as she bent over to catch her breath. A dozen or more questions played in his brain as he eyed her curved bottom in the strange blue trousers she wore.
“Why are you running away?” He voiced the first thought that came to mind.
She screeched, spinning around at the sound of his voice. He realized immediately she verged on hysteria, for her eyes were wide and wild, her breath coming in short gasps. Cautiously, he held out a hand, approaching her as quietly as he would a frightened filly.
Her reaction was immediate. Racing toward him, she pounded on his chest with her fists, tears streaming down her cheeks and sobs choking her with their intensity.
“Go away! I don’t want you; I don’t need you! I only want to go home, don’t you see?”
He curled his arms around her, hugging her close to stop her tantrum. With her arms trapped between them, she could no longer hit him, though the blows were hardly dangerous. Nicholas tried to soothe her, cooing soft words as he often did with Amanda, but she would have none of it.
“Let me go. I only tried to help Mackey. You have no right keeping me prisoner.” She leaned back as far as his circling arms would allow, the green fire of her gaze searing him. Even with her short blonde hair blowing wildly about her face, Nicholas thought her the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. As she ranted at him, he felt the blood stir in his veins. Her heaving breasts against his chest created sweet torture for him.
“I’ll let you go if you calm down.” He kept his voice pitched low and soft.
“I am calm!” she hollered.
He smiled at the contradiction and began to relax his grip when she brought her fists up and smacked him under the jaw. He fell back a step, his arms going completely slack. She twisted around and sprinted towards the trees.
“Stop it!” He grabbed the back of her pants and jerked her to a halt. She twisted around, but he didn’t give her a chance to hit him again. His strong arms tightened around her. She opened her mouth to scream, and Nicholas decided it was time to put an end to her tirade.
His kiss demanded her total acquiescence, but once he began, he realized the mistake would cost him dearly, for he surrendered as well. She was soft and hot, her lips molding perfectly with his. As he tasted her sweetness, she melted against him. The heat and scent of her penetrated his senses and sent them reeling. He slid his hands down her back, pressing her to him.
Passion raged within Nicholas, but apparently the woman in his arms didn’t feel the same. She began wiggling to get away from him instead of closer to the fire he blamed her for starting. He cautiously raised his head, steeling himself for her outraged reaction.
Instead of hysteria this time, she took a calming breath and looked him straight in the eye. “Please. Take me home.”
Nicholas released her and took a step back, willing his body to cool down; hoping his ardor didn’t show too easily on his face. “My carriage is at your disposal, but since Philadelphia is over sixteen miles away and night is approaching, perhaps you would consider waiting until morning.”
“This is Dallas! I live in Dallas.” Her voice became softer, yet he could hear the rising note of despair. “1419 Tatum Drive — in Dallas.” When she looked at him, her eyes full of tears, his heart turned over. A woman’s tears had always been his weakness, but for some reason this particular woman’s anguish tore at his heart.
“You never have told me your name,” he whispered. It seemed vitally important to him at the moment; perhaps in fear she would disappear from his life and leave him no way to trace her.
“Jaci Eastman. Now, I thank you for your assistance, but I must get home.” She dismissed him quite effectively and turned down the road. Without a backward glance, she walked away from him, but he wasn’t about to let her out of his life that easily.
He signaled Toby, his young footman, who came running. “Watch her, but don’t let her know you are,” he whispered his orders, positive Jaci Eastman would return once she realized they were miles from nowhere and there weren’t any neighbors to help her out. Nicholas wanted to give her time alone to cool down, but he didn’t want her to be alone. He didn’t intend to hold her hostage, but neither did he want to let her go just yet.
It was well past the dinner hour when the front door quietly closed. He didn’t leave his chair by the fire in the library, but listened intently for signs of her passing. Not long after her footsteps faded, Toby popped his head around the partially opened door.
“She be home, now, sir.” The boy grinned, knowing he had done his job well.
“Thank you very much, for looking after her.” Nicholas flipped him a coin. “If you hurry to the kitchen, I believe Delta still has some dinner warming for you.”
Toby caught the coin, smiling his thanks before rushing off to feed his growing body. Nicholas sighed in relief; thankful the lady had returned unharmed and had not stayed out in the chill weather all night. He closed the book he had on his lap and extinguished the lamp, heading up the long flight of stairs to his room.
For whatever reason, Jaci Eastman had fallen into his life and now it was up to him to do something with her. As far as he could tell, she had no relation and no place to go. Her strange story about a home in some place called Dallas didn’t ring true, and he would send a message into the city and check it out. In the meantime, he would allow her to remain at Wildwood. As for himself, he would make sure he kept his distance, for she did strange things to his insides.
He stopped at the door to the guest room, tilting his head to the side. In the quiet of the night, he heard her crying. Without thinking about his actions, he opened the door. Moonlight washed the room in silvery light.
She had not undressed, though her strange shoes lay helter-skelter on the floor. She hadn’t even turned back the coverlet on the bed, but lay curled in the middle, weeping with such anguish Nicholas thought surely her heart was breaking.
He couldn’t fathom what possessed such a beautiful lady to ache so, but as a gentleman it fell to him to comfort her. Trying not to frighten her, he spoke softly as he sat on the edge of the bed. He reached out to touch her shoulder.
She didn’t push him away, but instead cried even harder. She wouldn’t answer his whispered questions and he soon gave up. His hand smoothed her hair away from her face; his thumb continued to wipe at the tears. Gradually she quieted, but he knew she didn’t sleep, for her body remained taut as a bowstring.
Much later, she spoke. “I can’t go home, can I? I’ll never go home again.”
Although she asked a question, the resignation in her voice implied she didn’t expect an answer. It seemed that speaking the words out loud had been answer enough, for almost immediately, she fell into a deep sleep.
Recalling Amanda’s initial statement about sleeping princesses, he thought maybe the child was right. Perhaps the strange and beautiful Jaci Eastman was theirs to keep.