I'd seen plenty of his type in my own time.
We came to an abrupt halt as Titus stepped in front of us.
“Where are you going?” He glared at me. “You aren't finished.”
“She is for tonight,” Dye snapped back.
“Mind your tongue, girl.”
To my surprise, she stepped around him, pulling me with her.
“Mind yourself, old man,” she said over her shoulder. “This girl is going to be sick from all that noise.”
I could barely hear the reply over the second round of applause that echoed from the dining room, and I swallowed hard as I hurriedly followed Dye into the kitchen and out into the cool night air. She didn't ask what happened, or what had triggered my illness, but I had no doubt those sharp eyes of hers had caught some of it. Hell, she probably understood it better than I did.
I couldn't be falling for Gracen. Aside from the fact that he was engaged and from a Loyalist family, saying that we were from different worlds was an understatement. In my time, Gracen had been dead for more than two centuries, and it was that time I needed to get back to.
I just didn't know how I could go about doing that.
My feelings for Gracen weren't real. They couldn't be. I barely knew him and I'd never been one who believed in the whole fairy tale thing. I could admit that I was physically attracted to him. He was a good looking man, but that didn't mean anything. I appreciated his good qualities, but that didn't necessarily mean that I felt anything for him aside from admiration and a bit of lust.
I certainly shouldn't feel anything remotely close to jealousy.
Dye took me into my room without asking questions, then gave me a hard look before vanishing back into the hall. The shadows swallowed her up, and I was alone with my thoughts.
Unsurprisingly, I didn’t sleep that night.
The last few days had taken their toll on me both mentally and physically, so it wasn't that I wasn't tired. I couldn’t feel my feet, and the small of my back ached. My muscles protested the slightest movement, promising me a new round of pain when I had to get up in the morning. I'd always prided myself on being in excellent physical shape, but I was using a whole different set of muscles here.
I tossed and turned, keeping my eyes shut as I tried to force myself to sleep. I attempted to count sheep, to count backwards, to make a list of mundane things that needed to be done, but none of those things were able to overcome the images and thoughts that kept popping up. I couldn’t stop my brain from working overdrive.
My mind kept returning to the image of Gracen walking into the dining room with Clara on his arm, the smile on his face like a slap in the face. I remembered the tightness in my chest at seeing them together, the pang of inexplicable jealousy that rushed through me. The guilt and shame that had followed when I'd remembered my own fiancé. Oddly enough, neither of those emotions were focused toward Bruce, but rather toward my own reaction, as if reminding me that I couldn't be upset with Gracen for his engagement since I had a fiancé of my own.
I shook my head in frustration. What the hell was I thinking? How could I feel this way towards a man I hardly knew, a person I had met only a week before? I couldn’t wrap my head around it. I knew Wilkins would tell me that it was some love at first sight kind of thing. Destiny or soulmates or some other garbage. I'd given up on all of those things being real long ago. What I had with Bruce might not have been exciting or perfect, but it was real.
I sat up and ran a hand through my hair, shaking it out as I tried to clear my head. The only light in the room was moonlight from a small window, and I walked over to it, threw it open and closed my eyes against the sweet rush of air against my face.
I had to get out of here. It was no longer a matter of making plans or waiting longer for my leg to be completely healed. My survival might not be at stake, but my sanity definitely was.
I sighed heavily as I paced the small quarters, my bare feet cold against the hardwood floor as I hugged myself. I should get dressed and leave right now, no looking back, no second thoughts.
Except I wasn't even having second thoughts. These were first thoughts. Ones that said I didn't really want to leave. That I should stay.
It was ridiculous, of course. This wasn’t my time, my life. There was nothing for me here except a job I didn't want, a war that I knew wouldn't end as quickly as Roston and his friends wanted it to. And a man who I couldn't have, no matter what my heart was beginning to say.
I reminded myself that I had a perfectly wonderful life back home. I had a family I loved, a fiancé I may or may not decide to keep and a future in medicine. A future that I'd worked hard to attain. For all I knew, whatever part of the universe that had brought me here in the first place would decide to fix its mistake and take me home tomorrow.
This time, this place, none of it was mine. Whatever happened to Roston, to Dye, to Gracen and Clara, it'd all been finished long before I was born. Their story was already written, and I had no place in it.
Chapter Fifteen
By the time dawn arrived, I was no closer to sleep and felt even worse than before. I couldn't stop thinking about Gracen and Clara, how perfect they'd looked together, how I was sure that if history played out the way it had originally the two of them would be married. And with that came the knowledge that to preserve history, I couldn't interfere, no matter how much I wanted to. Besides, I had my own time – and my own fiancé – I needed to get back to.
It was time to leave.
I knew that I had at least another hour before the household woke up and started their morning rituals, so if I slipped out now, I could be a decent distance away by the time anyone noticed I was gone. I looked about the room, gathering a few things in my pillowcase as I pushed the guilt aside. The Lightwood family was wealthy enough that they wouldn't miss any of this. I needed to move quickly so as not to lose my head start.
Or my nerve.
I opened my bedroom door and peeked out, checking the landing for any sign of servants waking up early. When I was sure I was in the clear, I stepped out, taking care to keep my steps as soft as possible as I made my way downstairs.
As I descended the staircase, my mind tried to reason with me, tried to get me to go back upstairs and forget this whole thing. After all, I had no idea where I was going. This entire endeavor seemed as foolish as it was unplanned.
What was I going to do? Head back to the place where Gracen found me? Even if I could find it, I had no doubt that I'd run the risk of being caught by either army. While I was now dressed as a woman, the officer who'd interrogated me before might remember who I was. They might have old-fashioned notions about women, but that didn't mean they wouldn't hang me for killing their soldiers. If nothing else, it would've solidified the captain's suspicions that I was a spy.
I shook my head as I continued down the stairs. I’d worry about that once I was on the road. The one thing I knew for certain was that I couldn’t stay here. It would hurt too much, and I'd be far too tempted to try to change history.
I reached the ground floor and waited, listening for any unusual sounds. When I was satisfied that I was still the only one awake, I made my way down the small hallway to the kitchen. I moved quickly, keeping my eyes on my feet to avoid any missteps. I was pretty sure that women were required to dress like this so that running away would be more difficult.
As I made my way toward the back door, Dye's face suddenly came to mind. I hadn't made any friends here, but if I stayed, she could become one. Part of me wondered if I should have waited another day so I could tell her I was leaving, maybe even offer her a bit of insight into the future so she could protect herself. As noble as that sounded, I knew it was one more excuse to try to convince myself to stay.
I opened the back door and stopped cold when I saw Gracen standing in front of me. His eyes, which had looked half-asleep, widened in surprise, and I swore under my breath. In part, I was cursing my luck, but another part of me was cursing myself. While I, logi
cally, didn't want to see Gracen, my heart went off in a series of skips that made my face flush and my stomach twist.
“Honor.” His voice was hoarse. He cleared his throat as his eyes fell to the pillowcase I clutched, and he frowned. “Where are you going?”
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I stuttered something incomprehensible as I quickly tried to find an explanation that would both make sense and still hide my true plan.
Unfortunately, he came to the right conclusion before I could manage to speak again. “Are you leaving?”
Scowling, he reached for my sack, and I pulled it back. Technically, the things in it were his, but I needed at least some supplies, even if the only food I now possessed were a couple day-old rolls I'd grabbed on my way through the kitchen.
“It’s complicated,” I said finally. I could've told him that it was time for me to finish my journey to Canada, but I knew that he'd ask why I was sneaking out. I couldn't give him a reason for that.
Gracen’s frown deepened. “Complicated? You're sneaking out while everyone is still asleep.”
“I never meant to stay here for long,” I reminded him. “It was just supposed to be until my leg healed.”
“I know, but I expected at least the common courtesy of a goodbye. You’re sneaking out like a common thief.” His eyes darted to my bag again. “Is that the truth? Have you decided to rob my family after all we've done for you?”
I struggled to keep my temper. “I'm not a thief. I've worked for my room and board. All I have in here is some clothes and some bread.” I held out the pillowcase. “Take it.”
He shook his head, color staining his cheeks. “That's not necessary. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have accused you.” His eyes met mine, and a thrill ran down my spine. “It's not safe for you out there alone.”
His voice was soft, the concern on his face clear. I almost closed my eyes. I didn't want to see that he cared about my well-being because it would be easier to walk away if I could think that I was only a responsibility to him, nothing more. If I knew that he felt anything at all for me as a person, I wasn't sure I could leave.
Even now, I could feel it, the pull toward him, the inexplicable draw that I'd spent the last few days trying to ignore. I didn't understand it, and I was sure that I didn't like it. I knew that I wasn't supposed to like it. Not with Bruce's ring tucked safely away in my luggage somewhere in the future. I always took it off when I was overseas, not wanting to risk it being lost. Now, I wished I'd worn it onto the plane, if for no other reason than as a reminder of who held my heart.
Or, at least, who was supposed to.
I couldn't deny that I wasn't sure anymore.
All the more reason for me to get away before things got even more complicated.
“Please step aside,” I whispered. “I’d like to leave.”
“No.” Gracen practically growled the word. He took a step toward me and my heart thudded wildly against my ribs. “I won’t allow it.”
“We had an agreement,” I repeated. “I'm not a prisoner here, am I?”
“Of course not.”
“Then let me go.” I had to force the words out of me.
Every fiber of my being screamed at me to stay, to beg Gracen to keep me with him. The intensity of what I was feeling scared me, fueling my need to escape. I'd always prided myself on my independence, on my strength. I never felt like I needed Bruce. I wanted to marry him, and I hadn't liked being away from him, but I'd never felt this inexplicable need for him. Not like what I was feeling right now.
The worst part was, I knew it was dangerous, and a part of me didn't care.
Gracen shook his head in response to my request. “Go back to your room and think this through.” His eyes narrowed. “Is it because of my father’s friends? They’re Loyalists, but they’re harmless. And no one other than myself knows that your views aren't...similar.”
“It has nothing to do with the company you keep,” I said. Then I amended it, wanting to be honest with him about this. “Not entirely about them, anyway. This is your house, and I have no say over what happens within these walls.”
“I demand a proper explanation.” He crowded into my space, his eyes flashing. “I deserve that. After everything we’ve been through, I deserve an honest explanation.”
I looked out the kitchen window at the first signs of daylight and realized that if I didn’t leave now, I would have the entire staff to deal with.
“I don't have one,” I whispered. I needed to leave.
Now.
I tried to push past Gracen, but he grabbed my shoulders, stopping me from going more than a few steps. His fingers burned through my sleeves. I'd never before craved human touch so much.
“Let me go, Gracen,” I begged as desperation filled me. Tears burned my eyes, and I struggled not to cry. I couldn't let him know how much this hurt me. “Please, just let me go.”
His eyes locked on mine, and those impossible butterflies in my stomach fluttered. The room was suddenly too warm, the air too thick to breathe. His body was less than an inch from mine, and despite the layers of clothing between us, I imagined I could feel the heat of him.
“Gracen,” I murmured, unsure what I was asking him to do.
He decided for me as he bent his head and brushed his lips across mine. A shock went through me, and then his hands were sliding up my arms, one to linger on my neck, the other cupping the back of my head. He deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding across my bottom lip. As my lips parted, I leaned into him, feeling his hunger matching my own. I forgot where I was, what I was supposed to be doing. All that mattered was how right this felt.
Then, as suddenly as the kiss began, it was over. He pulled away, and I could see the confusion in his eyes as he stared down at me. This wasn't right, and we both knew it. Even though Gracen didn't know about Bruce, we both knew about Clara, and that alone was enough.
Still, I couldn't lie to myself any longer. No matter how many times I told myself that this was a bad idea, that I couldn't get involved. Hell, it didn't even matter that I'd never believed in the kind of connection I felt toward him. It was real.
And it could never happen.
He lowered his eyes even as his skin flushed a deep red. I wanted to comfort him, tell him it was okay, that it was just a spur of the moment reaction that meant nothing. But I couldn’t bring myself to say it, even if it hadn't meant anything to him. I knew, if he decided to kiss me again, I would welcome it and damn the consequences.
“I’m sorry,” Gracen muttered, his gaze flicking toward me, and then away again.
I nodded, still unable to find the words I needed to say. There was nothing, actually, that I could say. It was all just too complicated.
“I shouldn't have done that,” he said, rubbing the nape of his neck. “You’re right, Honor, you aren't a prisoner here. But, I beg of you, reconsider what you are doing. It isn’t safe out there. You’re safer here.”
“Gracen,” I began but stopped when he held up his hand.
“The choice is yours,” he continued, his eyes falling to my lips as our bodies seemed to want to pull together. He looked away. “Just know that if you decide to leave, I won't stop you, and I won't be able to protect you.”
With a shake of his head, he brushed past me, leaving me alone in the kitchen with the chaos in my mind.
Chapter Sixteen
I remembered my first kiss with Bruce clearly. I didn't know if it was because it was my first kiss ever, or the fact that I'd been terrified that my father would find out. Or because it was nothing like I'd expected.
Bruce and I had been unofficially dating on and off for a couple years, and while I'd accepted that he'd been too immature to be exclusive, my part of the deal had been that I wouldn't kiss him, or do anything else for that matter, until we were an official couple.
We were in his car, parked in front of my house but away from the living room window where my parents could easily look out and see us parked. A part of me
had been worried that one of my parents would draw it open and spot Bruce’s car. But they hadn't.
We'd gone to the movies, but I couldn't say what we'd watched. All I could remember was the fact that I'd finally been sitting in the movies with my boyfriend, holding his hand, my head resting on his shoulder as the colors from the big screen flashed across us.
It was one of those teenage things, the perfect first real date with my boyfriend. It didn’t matter that we'd actually gone out before, because those outings had been group dates or dances that Bruce hadn't had another date for. This was the first time we'd gone somewhere alone, as boyfriend and girlfriend, and the entire time I'd sat in the theater, I'd known that I would let him kiss me.
We'd gotten home well before my curfew, my father’s warning having been given with a smile. The look in his eyes, however, had said it all. He terrified Bruce, and although that had slowly grown old and less amusing over time, it had kept Bruce in check through high school.
It hadn't, however, kept me from getting my first kiss. I'd always imagined my first kiss to be something special, something that would make me shiver every time I thought about it.
Instead, I'd been disappointed.
I'd known, of course, that I wasn’t the first girl Bruce had kissed. Kathy O'Neill was all too happy to tell me that she'd received that honor back in seventh grade. In some ways, I'd expected that since he’d gotten in some practice, he'd at least be good at it.
I thought that until his lips touched mine, parted them, and instantly stuck his tongue in my mouth. The kiss was pushy and sloppy, and it took me by complete surprise. What I'd expected to be something soft and sweet, something to show the way we felt about each other, had clearly all been about him. The follow-up hadn’t been any better, and when Bruce’s hand had reached under the hem of my shirt, he'd been visibly disappointed at my resistance.