Escape to Me (1NightStand #131)(8)
Author: Diane Alberts

Eleanor tightened her fingers around his, took a deep gulp of air, and faced him with a serious expression. “I have to return home. My family will be wondering about me, and they’ll expect to find me in bed with the illness I claimed to have.”

“Your family? I thought women like you lived alone.” It’s what his packet said, anyway.

He fought the panic rising over him, refusing to allow himself dismay at her leaving. Theirs was a one-night stand. It wasn’t supposed to be anything more. Why, then, did he yearn to throw her down and make love to her until she couldn’t leave out of sheer fatigue?

“No.” She bit down hard on her lower lip. “Not me.”

“Where do you live? I’ll walk you home.” He’d at least be able to think about seeing her again if he knew where to find her.

She jumped to her feet and removed his shirt. His mouth watered at the sight of her splendor laid bare, and he took the top from her out of sheer manners. She struggled to put on her underthings, as she said, “No, please. You can’t come with me. It wouldn’t be…right.”

She conquered the bottom part of her unmentionables and spun the top part around in her hands with a frown. She tossed it over her shoulder—a scowl on her face, while she muttered something under her breath—and shrugged into her blouse.

“Contrary to how I might have acted tonight, I’m a gentleman, and I insist upon seeing you home safely.”

As she stepped into her skirt, her shoulders were stiff and her knuckles white on the garment. “Fine. But give me a moment to get ready.”

She looked perfect to him.

Pleasure overcame Thomas as he dressed, making his heart light. He’d find out where she lived, mull it over a bit, and decide if he wanted to ask her to be his mistress. No need to rush into things.

He’d know where to find her.

Under the cover of her eyelashes, Eleanor saw him clothe himself. Oh, how she ached to throw herself into his arms and confess all. But if she told him who she was, he’d feel obligated to offer his formal suit. He’d seduced a viscount’s daughter. They might be poor, but she still had a title. And as such, he’d be duty-bound to make an honest woman of her.

There was no way she could do that to him. He’d never forgive her if she trapped him. And lies and anger did not make a happy marriage bed. Darn him for being so chivalrous and demanding he see her home. It made her exit a lot harder than she’d hoped for.

Reaching into her purse, she grabbed the cool metal of the time-traveling watch. She glanced over her shoulder and caught him watching her with a soft tenderness. If this had come in a different way, things might have ended differently. If he could care for her, she might open her mouth and confess all. Perhaps he could have even loved her, under different circumstances.

Instead, he could only see an illusion of her true self she had given him to hide her identity. She swallowed and sat beside him, cradling his cheek. Leaning in, she kissed him with all the love she could never express. She kept it soft and light. When he leaned in to deepen it, she pulled away and stroked his lip.

“I will never, ever forget this night. I hope you can remember me with fondness, as well.” Her voice broke on the last word. She tried to look away from him, but found herself hypnotized by his amber eyes. “I’ll miss you.”

Thomas brought her fingers to his lips. “You said I could walk you home. There will be time for good-byes.”

She tensed and blinked back tears. “It will do you no good to know where I live. I dwell far from here. In a place where no one ever sees me. You’ll be no different, even after tonight. But know this: I have always, and will always, love you. Now, more so than before. I wish you and your son all the luck in the world.”

His jaw dropped. “How could you…how do you know about my son?”

Eleanor knew as well as he did that he hadn’t mentioned the child tonight. “I’m sorry.”

She pulled out the device that would help her escape his accusing stare. When he saw what she held, he lunged for it. She jumped to her feet, did two fast turns counter clockwise, and closed her lids. Light flashed, and when she dared enough to peek, she stood in her bedroom, surrounded by all her familiar things.

Yet, in an unfair twist of fate, everything inside her had changed.

Epilogue

Countess Hastings’ Masquerade Ball

London, 1812

One week.

One week had passed since his mystery woman—was her name even Eleanor?—had disappeared in front of him, after letting him know her secret. After punching him in the gut by letting it slip she hailed from his time…and knew him. He’d seen her turn the dial two complete turns, which took her back two hundred years— right before her vanishing act. Thomas hadn’t stopped searching for her yet.

They had unfinished business, he and she.

How dare she lie to him? Make it seem as if she came from the future? Never mind the fact he’d sought to do the same. Somehow, her lies and secrets were different from his. He was a male, and she an innocent. And a woman.

Ladies didn’t go around throwing their virginity away at a moment’s notice. Then again, perhaps she wasn’t a lady at all. He’d made discreet inquiries all around town about any unmarried, gorgeous, twenty-six year old spinsters. He’d gotten lots of odd looks and plenty of rumors circulating, but no damn answers. No one claimed knowledge of any such paragon. All the spinsters were described as dull and boring. And plain.

Not his Eleanor.

I live far from here. In a place where no one ever sees me. You will be no different, even after tonight.

A chill racked his spine, and he gulped another glass of punch. They ought to serve better beverages at these crushes. Maybe then he’d come more often. In all reality, he was here for one reason—he hoped to catch her.

Once he found her, he’d either shake her until her teeth rattled or sweep her into his arms and run away with her until he could find a way to make her want to stay. To make her his in every way. Scotland, perhaps. He had a small estate there he’d been meaning to check on.

But first, he had to bloody find her.

Where would a woman who never got seen be hiding? In the shadows? He searched every corner of the room, but he didn’t see any swishing skirts next to him. Maybe it was as she’d said—she was a tavern wench.

But how would she know about his son? How would she have seen him enough to love him—as she claimed she did?

His instincts screamed no. If ever a true lady had existed, she was it. Why hadn’t he recognized her? He knew all the debutantes. He scanned the ballroom for what had to be the millionth time, searching amongst the flowing couples for a sign of her blonde curls…a tad on the short side. Or maybe a hint of periwinkle eyes crinkled in laughter at something her dance partner murmured in her ear.