The Billionaire's Muse
I was still trying to figure out how to reply when she whirled around and walked away. I stayed where I was, watching her go. A few minutes later, I retreated to my own room, not wanting to risk running into anyone else.
Unsurprisingly, sleep didn't want to come. I couldn’t stop thinking of the many ways Gracen’s military venture would end badly, the different scenarios playing out in grotesque details in my mind. He definitely didn’t lack bravery, and he had killed that soldier when it came down to it, but I knew that the war would stretch out for years to come. Too much could happen before the end, and even if he survived, his world would be changed forever.
I contemplated running after him, stealing away in the dead of the night and finding my way to where he'd enlisted. I thought that maybe the details would be in the study somewhere, and if I was careful and quiet, I could learn where he was stationed and get him out of there before he got himself killed.
It was my fault, I finally admitted. That's why the guilt was eating me. His enlistment was my fault. We'd been at each other’s throats this morning, and now he was gone, off to join the Redcoats in a war they would lose. To spite me, because I'd told him not to do it.
If something happened to him, I'd never forgive myself. I had to find him.
I couldn’t just sit here and wait, going about my daily chores as if I didn't know what was coming. I stood up suddenly, making my way to the dresser and pulling out my uniform. I'd found the camouflage pants and shirt the other day, patches of blood still dried from my encounter with the Redcoats. They were clean now. All I needed to do was put them on, and I'd be ready to go.
As I started to pull my nightgown off, my father’s words raced back to the forefront of my thoughts. I could almost picture him standing in front of me, frowning in disapproval, warning me of how I was, yet again, letting my emotions get the better of me.
That if I was going to get home, I needed to stop worrying about Gracen and start using my head.
This was absurd. I couldn’t do this. I knew nothing of the world outside other than what little I’d read in my brother’s books, and even that hadn't been enough for the real thing. In theory, I knew the area, but I knew what it would be like in more than two centuries, not what it was like now.
Shit.
I stared out the small window above my bed into the starry night beyond. I was a stranger here. This wasn't my time, and I knew I'd only made it this far because of Gracen. I wanted to help him, but I didn't know where to start. If Ennis was here, he would've known enough to really help. Me? I read one book years ago. Everything else was what little I remembered from high school. It wasn't much. At least not enough to do what I needed to do.
I balled my fists, feeling my nails cutting into my palms. I hated that I had to acknowledge my helplessness, that I couldn't do this without help. I may have saved Gracen's life, but I couldn't deny that he'd saved mine as well.
Damn you, Gracen Lightwood.
I was angry at him all over again. I was angry at how he'd made me fall for him, how he'd taken my attention away from the more important matter of finding my way home. How he'd just up and left me behind without so much as a goodbye.
And I hated myself more for caring about any of it.
I sank back onto my bed, the anger draining as quickly as it came. I couldn't take any more of this. I might not know what I wanted to do about re-enlisting or about my idiot of a fiancé, but at least there, I had family, a place I knew.
I had to get home.
That was the only solution. I had to find some way back home. There was nothing for me here, not that there should be. Whatever delusions I momentarily had, whatever false opinions I'd used to shroud the truth, I couldn’t do it anymore. This wasn't my home, and it never would be. I shouldn’t be here.
I had to find my way back.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Why’s you lookin’ at me like dat?”
Dye stood completely still in the kitchen doorway, buckets in her hands, eyeing me suspiciously as I watched her. I shook my head slowly and then went back to what I was doing.
I wasn't entirely sure what I expected, but when I finally managed to fall asleep, my dreams had been full of flashes and chaotic images. The only thing I could remember when I woke, however, was that I needed to talk to Dye. She was my ticket out of here and back to where I belonged.
Now that Dye was actually there, I couldn’t think of how to even start explaining what I needed from her. Hell, I didn't entirely know what I needed. She'd always been a little curious about me, and I wasn’t completely certain that she hadn’t somehow figured out my secret. If she knew, then it was safe to assume she might also know how my time jump had occurred and might even know what I could do to reverse it, because if she understood traveling through time...
It made my head hurt.
Yet now, in the kitchen with all the other women, with Dye casting suspicious looks in my direction, I found it hard to approach her. What could I even say? I had no idea where to start, especially if I was wrong and Dye knew nothing.
Maybe the girl was just extremely intuitive, and in reality had no idea what I had been through. It was clear I was out of place, that I didn’t belong here, but it didn’t take a genius to know that. Maybe Dye just had a knack for saying the right things at the right time. In some ways, she reminded me of the gypsy ladies during carnival season back home.
“If you gonna keep lookin’ at me dat way, I best be makin’ maself pretty,” Dye said, as she dried her hands. “You got somethin’ to tell me, Honor?”
I looked over her shoulder at the other women around us, noticing how some had edged their way closer to us and were eavesdropping on our conversation. I wondered how many were listening for anything they could pass along to Roston, and how many were looking for gossip about me and Gracen.
I made a decision. “Not here,” I said. “Outside at the well.” If she didn't know anything, then I'd be back at square one, but at least I'd know I was doing whatever possible to get home.
Dye smiled at me and pushed a bucket in my direction. “Good,” she said. “We got us a few more of dese to fill.”
I watched until we were standing at the well, buckets by our side, before I asked the only question that mattered. “What do you know about time travel?”
“Whatcha mean by time travel?” Dye pulled a blade of grass and chewed on the end of it as she leaned against the well.
“Moving through time.” I chose my words carefully. “Like going to the future...or the past.”
“Now why'd anyone wanna do dat?” she asked, regarding me shrewdly. “Past’s better left alone, and future’s comin’ whether we likes it or not.”
“That’s not what I meant.” I straightened and stretched the muscles in my back. Being active in the army meant I was in shape, but it didn't mean I wasn't feeling it. I struggled to find the words. “What if someone traveled in time without wanting to? Like they were forced into it, and they couldn’t do anything about it.”
She eyed me for a beat before she clicked her tongue and laughed, a rich, full sound. “You speakin’ nonsense, Honor,” she said. “The sun’s getting’ to ya.”
“I’m serious.” I refused to let it go. “What if someone wanted to go home? How would they do that?”
She spat and scratched her scalp, looking off at the extensive grounds of the estate as if looking for the answers around us. In that moment, she looked less like a young servant, and more like some sort of wise woman. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I was certain that she would have answers for me.
“You’s been chased from home, dat it?”
All the air rushed from my lungs, and my shoulders slumped in defeat. For some reason, I'd thought this would all be over soon. That Dye would have answers for me, and I'd just follow them. I'd be home in no time.
“Dat your explanation for actin’ strange all day?”
“I wasn’t chased from anywhere, Dye,” I said,
exasperated. I ran my hands through my hair. “I actually like my home, and I want to go back.”
Dye’s head snapped toward me, and she eyed me for what seemed like forever, as if trying to decide whether or not I'd completely lost my mind. Finally, she shook her head.
“You ain’t never made any sense, Honor,” she said. “I know dis all about Master Gracen runnin’ off to dem Redcoats?”
“This has nothing to do with Gracen,” I quickly argued.
“I ain't a fool,” Dye said. “I seen da two of you together. How he always be lookin' at you, even when he pretend he don't be. It’s a miracle Master Lightwood and little Miss Clara ain’t got a clue, or you be in some serious trouble.”
“Nothing is going on,” I said again.
She raised an eyebrow. “You’s sure about dat?”
“Positive.”
“Den must’ve been someone else I heard hollerin' in his room dat night.” She grinned at me.
I froze, my eyes wide as her words sank in, and I could immediately feel the heat rush to my cheeks. Shit. How the hell could I talk my way out of this one? Dye chuckled when she saw the look on my face and waved her hand at me.
“If I could count ‘ow many times white men sleep wid da help, I be countin’ 'til kingdom come.”
I grabbed the pump handle and started working it again so I wouldn’t have to respond. My night with Gracen couldn't have been like that. He wasn't like that. The fact that he'd freaked out so badly was an indication that he wasn't in the habit of sleeping with random women. But if anyone else knew about our night together, they'd assume I was just one in a long line of servants who warmed his bed.
I frowned. I didn't really care what anyone thought of me, but I hated the idea of anyone thinking poorly of Gracen. Then again, maybe sleeping with the staff would be something that Roston would consider manly. He seemed like he'd be that sort of chauvinistic asshole.
“So you be feelin’ guilty and wanna run away,” Dye continued as if her statement explained my question.
I shook my head, even though, deep down, I knew that Dye's words were probably truer than I wanted to admit. I didn't want to think about that though. I couldn't think about Gracen right now. I needed to focus on getting home.
“Is there magic that can send me home?” I asked, hating myself for the desperation in my voice.
“A horse can take you home, girl.” She smiled at me. “Ain’t need no magic for dat.”
I stopped what I was doing and looked up at her. “Dye, I’m serious.”
“I’s as serious as you, Honor,” she countered. “You ain’t need to go meddlin’ in things you know nothin’ ‘bout. Ain’t no magic gonna erase da past, and ain’t no magic gonna bring da future. You best be leavin’ it at dat.”
I sighed, trying to hold back my frustration, knowing I was getting nowhere with this conversation. I needed to try something else. Suddenly, I remembered the volumes of books lining the shelves in the study. Maybe I could find answers there. I just needed to find a way to get my hand on them without being noticed. I was pretty sure Master Lightwood wouldn't think too kindly of any of the help touching things that didn't belong to them.
I stifled the sudden and completely inappropriate laughter that wanted to come out. I'd definitely touched something that didn't belong to me.
“Finish up wid dem buckets,” Dye said, breaking through my thoughts. “I gonna take dese two in wid me.”
I nodded at her and continued pumping. With a new goal in mind, I could at least feel like I hadn't given up.
The next few days went by uneventfully as I settled back into a routine. Dye and I chatted, but I didn't bring up time travel again. There was clearly no point. I was, however, still looking into other possibilities. Fortunately for me, sneaking books out of the study and to my room proved to be a simple task. The reality was, no one even noticed anything was missing. I simply left cleaning the study to the very end of the day, polished it off and then escaped before Roston Lightwood and the rest of his Loyalist friends filed in. It was easy hiding a volume or two in my dress, and none of the men gave me a second look.
They were all too busy congratulating each other on the imminent downfall of the rebel colonists.
It was exhausting. I spent days working and stealing books, hours of the night occupied with reading. Well, technically skimming. I wasn't a slow reader, but it was a lot of reading. There was very little in regards to time traveling or the mystical, but the work helped keep my mind off Gracen as well as the ever-growing frustration of not being able to find a way back home.
It didn't keep me from thinking about Gracen, wondering how he was faring with the other soldiers. I didn't know anything about how the army worked in this time, especially not the British Army. Gracen had been gone less than a week. I didn't know if he would have had time to train, if he'd be put somewhere out of the way and safe, or if he'd be sent straight to an active unit, one that would be in the very middle of the danger.
I'd tried eavesdropping, but there was very little information on Gracen. The only mention of his name was accompanied by the pride Roston felt at his son's patriotism and loyalty. I was surprised at how well I controlled myself considering the anger I felt whenever I heard Roston bragging.
This wasn't my fight. Even the war itself wasn't my fight. It'd already been won. My priority was getting home to my family...and to my fiancé, of course.
Bruce.
Groan.
I was a little embarrassed to admit that I'd hardly thought about Bruce since I'd arrived here, and I had to keep reminding myself about him even as I looked for a way home. The man I was supposed to marry occupied very little of my thoughts despite the trouble I'd gone through with my family to fight for him. It was strange that it'd taken something as drastic as this to make me reevaluate my choices.
As June drew to an end, I still hadn't made any progress, and it was wearing on my nerves. The fact that I'd also heard nothing about Gracen only made matters worse. By the time the sun set on the last night in June, I was barely holding it together. I had no idea what I was doing, was no closer to answers, and was starting to think that the smartest thing I could do would be to head west, get as far away from the coming battles as I could. I knew enough about roughing it to survive, maybe even do well, in this time.
As I plopped down on my bed and stared up at the ceiling, I wondered if it was time to just accept that unless whatever had brought me here decided to send me home, I was stuck.
Either way, I couldn't stay here any longer. I needed to do something other than wait on the Lightwoods. So, when I was sure the entire household was asleep, I quickly gathered my things and shoved them into the pillowcase. It took less than a few minutes for me to change back into my uniform and head downstairs. This time, I knew I wouldn't turn back.
Gracen wasn't here to stop me.
I walked swiftly, leaving the Lightwood estate behind me. I’d give it one final try before I accepted that I was here to stay, and I knew that meant I had to go back to where it all began. As I made my way back toward Boston, I wasn't sure what to hope for. A way home, or a clear sign to stay.
Chapter Twenty-Four
I stayed close to the road, just within the tree line, yet far enough to avoid detection unless someone was looking very closely. The night was cooler than I remembered July nights to be, but that could've been because I was comparing it to Iraq – or because Boston was warmer in my time. The moon was almost full, allowing me enough light to make my way forward, which I appreciated since the territory wasn't familiar enough for me to move both quickly and stealthily. I measured my steps carefully, trying to make as little noise as possible while keeping my senses sharp for anything out of the ordinary.
I was grateful for the concentration, however. It kept me from worrying so much about Gracen. It was sad, and more than a little annoying, that my brain was more focused on where Gracen was and how he was doing than it was on getting home. I told myself it wa
s because time travel was a bit more mind-boggling than guy problems. My subconscious was trying to deny the impossibility of what happened to me.
Yeah, and I believed that bullshit as much as I believed in the tooth fairy.
Then again, I'd never believed in time travel until I'd found myself in 1775. Maybe I'd meet Santa Claus on my little trek.
On and on I went, one foot in front of the other. Not once did I consider returning to the Lightwood estate. After all, there wasn't anything for me there. Not anymore.
I had no idea how long I’d been walking before I finally stopped to rest, slumping down next to a large tree. My legs ached, and my feet hurt. I felt like I'd been going non-stop since I'd gotten here. One thing after the other, with barely any time to even breathe.
I took the time to breathe now, but I didn't find any peace from it. After so many months in the desert, the air smelled strange to me, the almost wet scent of trees and grass, but I knew that wasn't the only reason. The lack of the signs of humanity that I'd always associated with back home weren't here. Car exhaust. Lights. Pavement. Even overseas, I'd never been completely away from any of it.
Suddenly, I realized that I was hearing something other than the usual nighttime rustlings of forest animals.
Hooves. Coming this way, and fast.
I jumped up from my resting spot and hurried a few yards deeper into the woods. There, I crouched down and waited to see if it was friend or foe. If I could even tell such a thing. Now, I registered the sounds of wheels as the carriage came around the corner, and I hoped it meant I wasn't about to see British soldiers rounding the bend. A carriage most likely meant a civilian. At least, according to the minuscule bit of knowledge I'd gleaned from movies and TV shows over the years.
I ran through my options, wondering if this might be an easier way for me to get to my destination. Maybe a safer way. I had no idea who was inside the carriage, and there was no telling whether or not they would stop, much less allow me to join them. Still, it had to be better than walking the entire distance, and I was a little wary of what might happen if I got too close to an army camp. I might know the dates and outcomes of a few battles, but I didn't know troop placements or daily strategic operations.